Bellefonte, Pa., June 28, 1907. THF OTHER FELLOW'S JOB. The farmer looks discouraged, He hates the rake and hoe ; He wants to try the city, Where money seems to grow ; The other fellow gets the grain, And leaves for him the cob, So in his heart he covets The other feilow's job. The basiness man is worried, Both ends will scarcely meet ; Last month he lest a million Upon a dea! in wheat ; He looks with longing to the farm, And drops a tearful sob ; It seems to him like heaven— The other fellows job, The dector notes with envy The lawyer's oouncing roil, And wishes he had studied With Blackstone as h's goal ; The clerk is far from satisfied, He sees the artist's daub, And cries, “Oh, how much better!” The other fellows job. "Tis quite the style to grumble And sigh for other stars, To wish we were transported To somewhere, even Mars; And if we reach the Happy Land This thought the joy will rob, For some will surely covet The other fellow's job, — Commercial Telegraphers' Journal. KING WINTER'S SONG. Oh, 1 am the friends of the boys and girls ! I am the fellow they love, When there's plenty of frost on the earth below, And plenty of sunshine above, To me they look for the frozen pond, All ready for skate and slide ; To me they turn with their sleds so swift Fora coasting hill so wide. I deck the trees with « fringe so bright That they glisten in sun or shade ; And I scatter my snowflakes in the air Till they fill each valley and glade ; And, climbing up the mountain top, Each shrub and tree I crown, And I spread the whitest of covers o'er The ground so barren and brown. THE LOVE STORY OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE. In 1891, during a short visit which I made to Brussels, I became acquainted by chance with certain circamstances in Char- lotte Bronte’s life in that old capital, more than balf a century before. ey were trifles in themselves, but they gave mea totally new idea of the author of Jane Eyre, and made a flesh-and-blood woman out of the wire little creature who so magnetized and puzzled the world in the middle of the last century. The Bronte sisters’ perhaps, had more of the unreal, intangible quality than any other English writers. The public from the first, threw a mystery around them and they never yet have been brought out be- fore the world into honest daylight. Three lean, consumptive women living in a grave- yard in the middle of a damp, malarious moor, starved in body and mind, with a half-mad clergyman for a father, who vent- ed his silent rages by firing pistols out into the night, and a wholly mad brother, etanding on his feet ranting curses until he dropped dead—these were the material ont of which the newspaper critics and biog- raphers of the day made up their apprecia- tions of the new writers. The biographers of the Brontes all hint- ed, too, that they possessed the qualities of the characters in their books. Emily, a silent, wild-eyed girl, the solitary event in whose life was its long dyiug agony, is pop- ularly believed to bave hidden in her lean little body the ferocious passions with which she endowed her monstrous heroes and heroines in Wuthering Heights. Charlotte, even when she elected to fill the common- place role in the world of the wile of a very commonplace village curate, is still regard- ed askance by the public as a low-voiced, eoft-eyed monster—a Jave Eyre, a Roches- ter and a Rochester's mad wife all rolled into one. Genius two of these lonely,sickly women undoubtedly —the mysterions creative power which enabled them to cou- ceive abnormal aud inhuman goalities and to breathe them into their fictitious men and women with such force that the public received the men and women and gave them a permanent place in the world as if they had been living souls. But I doubt whether the Bronte sisters in astual fact were themselves one whit more ab- normal than are the lonely, sickly, un- married women of any Eovglish or Ameri- can village. The facts of Cbarlotte’s sojourn in Brus- ‘Bele, when they came to my knowledge, this prosaic convention on me. As I eaid, it was by accident that I earned this chapter of her history. Com- pg coe day with another American woman out of the cathedral we stopped on the steps to discuss the Miracle shown on the pictured windows inside. My readers will recollect the tradition that, in the fifteenth century, a Jew stole the Eucharist from the pyx on the altar, took it to his home in a miserable quarter of the city, put it into a caldron on the street and boiled it. The water, we are told, turned at once into blood and over. flowed, deluging the street. The Jew was torn ioto pieces by the mob. The city abased itself in penitence for the crime against the Host, and the five great sover- eigns of Enrope cansed the story of the sacrilege to be painted on five windows of the cathedral, and humbly offered them to appease the wrath of an insulted God. As we came out on the steps of the cathe- dral ope of us said that there must bea monument or other memorial of the event on the Plate where it bad cccurred, though we could find no mention of it in any guide-book. A pleasant-looking woman standing near us overheard the remark and said promptly: “Permit me, Madame. You will find a church bails on the site of the sent, Jn which the Host is elevated every sunrise to sunset, in token of the Divine forgiveness of the sacrilege.” aed ows Je street So us, er esting old honses Brussels not known to Beadeker or to Cook tourists, y one of us said that we intended to go to the Rue d’ Isabelle in search of the of M. Heger in which Charlotte Bronte had ta t, and Which she had made immortal in Til- ette, Our guide hesitated, coloring alittle,and then she said gayly: “No one can show yon that house so well as I. Itis conducted now isely as it was in Miss Bronte's time by my sister. We are the daughters of M. Heger.” Natarally we gave ap the afternoon to her and to the . What old church could have any associations which would mean as much to us as these of the class- rooms and the dusky garden paths in which the poor little English girl wore ont the best years of her life, in the futile passion which she afterward shrieked out for the whole world to bear? youngest Our guide, Madame P.,was the of the Heger children, the * whom Charlotte diseribes in Villette as an “affectionate, lisping petite,” and for whom she really seems to bave felt the natural, wholesome affection that every woman has for au innocent child. You will remember how very little there was in Charlotte Bronte’s nature that was whole- some or natural. “Georgette’”” had married a man of means and influence. The H family, I found, bad long held a well-established and honorable position in Brussels. Their standing among their fellow-citizens was not affected by the esclandre which follow- ed their connection with Miss Bronte, and which made them the subject of the world’s gossip. . was an able, excitable man of keen insight, who threw bimself with fiery enthusiasm and passionate belie! into one hobby after another. His hobbies were, as arale, high and pure in purposes, but us- ually wholly impracticable. He wus—we found —still living aod still exercised a supervision over the school controlled by his daughter. Many of the girls trained in this school were of high rank. Among them had been one of the royal princesses of Belgium. She was a classmate of one of M. Heger’s daughters, and the two girls contracted a colse friendship for each other which lasted into middle life. They kept up a close co ence for many years, in which the Princess wrote freely to her friend, of her most private affairs. Mademoiselle Heger died suddenly. ‘‘Before night,”” said her sister, ‘‘my papa made a package of all of the Princess’ etters, folded it in a white paper, sealed it with white wax, and sent it to her High- ness. He would not allow her to spend a Siugle wight in doubt and anxiety about em. The Hegers, in fact, appeared to be peo- ple who would promptly do the delicate 553 honorable thing in any such domestic crisis. Their feeling toward Charlotte was nat- urally extremely bitter. She bad un- doubtedly received constant and great kindness from their mother, and in return bad beld her up as ‘‘Madame Beck’ to the contempt of the world. Madam P. was apparently not sorry that she bad the opportunity to tell the true story of Charlotte Bronte to Americans. She offered her attentions and hospitality to us with a cordial and charming grace, welcomed us to her own home and took us to the pensionnat with which Villette bas made the world familiar. We found the classrooms unchanged; we sat on the very chair in which Lucy Snowe describes herself at work, now taming the huge, lazy Belgian girls by her dumb beats of fury, now ekilllully warding off her lover's outbursts of passion—frenzies of rage to-day and of love tomorrow. The followi account of Charlotte Bronte's connect with the pensionnat and the Heger family was given to me by Madam P. It is that which is believed now in Brussels. I see no reason to doubt it, although it differs in some particalars from the s'atement of Mrs. Gaskell in ber biography. It is as follows: Emil Bronte entered the school as a pupil, bat Charlotte as a nurs- ery-governess, Their means were eo limit- ed that this was the only way in which they could carry out their wish to spend six months ina school where French was spoken, in order that they wight acquire the language. Charlotte was engaged to take care of the Heger children und to teach them Evg- lish. But so great was her eagerness to learn French and #0 marvelous the ability which she showed, that Madame Heger's sympathy was aroused for the r little Eoglish woman, and shearranged that she thonld be partially relieved of her duties as nursery -maid and should receive lessons from M. Heger himself. This kindly plan was carried out by Madame Heger at the sacrifice of her own interests and at no little daily inconvenience. This Belgian scboolmistress, about whom there raged so long a whirlwind of ip, seems to have been, simply,an able, shrewd but generous woman, quite capable of sacrificing her own plans and comfort for a needy English girl, bat not at all likely to permit the English girl to impose upon her in the smallest degree. Madame P.’s statement of their rela- tions, as you see, corresponds exactly with Charlotte’s own account of Lucy Snowe's ition in Slagate Beck’s household. e tells us that she began as a nursery- maid, was promoted to the position of scholar, and, later, of teacher. She gives us the history of the love which grew up between the fiery little professor and his cold, sickly English pupil. There is no more real love story in our literature. We know, as we read, that it is the history of an actual occurrence; that somewhere this half-starved, avmemie, ugly girl did meet this brilliant, ill-tempered little man and poured ont on him all the boarded, fierce passion of her life. The account given in Brussels is that the infatuation of the little English teacher for M. Heger was soon apparent to all the school and was not long concealed from bis wife. Charlotte Bronte was suddenly sammunnd home by the death of her aunt. It bad 1 been her intention to open a echool in land ; her father was becom- ing blind, her brother was almost uncon- trollable from drink. Every circumstance and condition of her life made it necessary for her to remain in England. Bat she chose to turn her back on all home-duties and to return to Brussels, where she was offered a salary of only sixteen pounds per Jeum,refusiip one of filty pounds in Eng- Her English biegaaghens give no reason for this choice, but the French accounts bluntly ascribe it to her mad devotion to ber master, M. Heger. She remained in the school dispite the cold d ent of Madame Heger. She was at last dis- missed by her and sent back to England. From thence she constantly wrote passion. ate letters to M. Heger. Madame P. assured me that her father bad preserved these letters until within a few weeks of my visit to Brussels. Their literary value sade i geuiliing to de- stroy them. Both e apparent- Ir had at the mad infatuation of e oh : no longer young—and 80 1 80 gauche!” Poor Cha ! ‘The recital of the [little incidents of her daily life in the Rue 4’ Isabelle soon meade ber a very real person to me. It was plain that the lean silent little woman had burn- iog in ber that mysterious flame of genins which probably nobody about here recog- | nized bus M. Heger. Apart from that, she was precisely what the daughter of a pre- judiced, poor clergyman would be, brought up ou a lonely moor, ignorant of the every- day world and of social life, prejudiced, bigoted, and totally lacking in that most wholesome quality in any woman or man ~—COmmonsense, batever was in the world outside of Haworth was in ber opin- ion ignobie and contemptible. The worship and doctrines of the great Roman and Greek churches were diemissed as sly by this tamptions little person, e Belgian nation was swept aside contemp- tuously as ‘“‘nothing.’”’ In fact, the whole outside world counted as nothing to this self-centred English woman. The key to Charlotte Bronte's whole life, the one dominant motive that urged her on year after year, was a hunger to be loved. The desire to find ber feliow-soul-- her mate—which isa tender, obscure im- pulse in the character of most women, was erce as the clutching of starvation in Charlotte. It is the one motif of her writ- ing. In the time when, as a child, she was in love with the son of a neighboring York- shire farmer whose brutality and virile coarseness she bas immortalized in Roches- ter, in the days of her infatuation with the mild, blue-eyed young doctor whom she painted as 8t. Jobo, to the years spent in 3he little Shaner Where for Yom ] “ame 8 protege wit r at her homely face in the dingy mirror, and worshiped Paul Emanuel, she was torn by the same hunger to be loved—to be loved and wooed like fairer women. Near the end of ber life this unsatisfied passion drove her to marry a man whom she bad ouce beld up to ridicule in print, jeering at his commovnplace stupidity. A good, worthy soul, who loved and tended ber faithfully, but who was no more akin to her thao is the tallow of the candle to the flame which it feeds. When Miss Bronte returned to England she began at once to write and to put her own history and passions into print for the whold world to see. The Professor wes a sketch of M. Heger, which she afterward enlarged in the Paul Emanuel of Villette, This later book was, in fact, so accurate a description of her own life in the pension- nat thas it drew the attention of the whole reading world to the little school in Brus- sels. Poor Madame Heger to her amaze- ment, was held up to universal scorn and contempt. Her daughter, one day, led me up to the poricuis el & middle-aged woman witha fall of kind, noble meanings. “That is Maman,” she said. “Is she Madame Beck?" Villette, in which Charlotte Bronte laid bare her heart to the public, and took de- liberat revenge on the wife of the man whom she loved, was undoubtedly a work of genius. Bat surely the exposure and the revenge were ignoble and paltry. The novel, I learned iu Brussels, produe- ed great excitement in that community when it appeared—uot because the grave conventional burghers gave a moment's thought to Charlotte, her woes, or her brilliant powers, but becanse the book as- serted that flirtations with outeide lovers were possible to the jeunes demoiselles in the Heger pensionnaf, and that audacious gallants could smuggle love letters to their daughters under the very nose of Madame Heger. The school tottered to its founda- tions. Bat I was told “it was too securely groanded in the confidence of the gentry tofall. A paper was drawn up by many of the noble women in Belgium who bad been educated by Madame Heger, testily- ing to their profound confidence and faith in her aud io ber institation.” The public were shown that it wasa sheer impossibility to convey a billet-doux from the outside into the garden, end then Charlotte was dismissed asa malicions little gossip, and Brussels promptly forgot her and-—her book. It seemed to me that M. Heger, at that time a man of eighty, had a certain gratifi- cation in his notoriety. He was satisfied that Eugland never had produced a wom. au of genius so great as that of his 2, and he was equally confident that he alone had discovered the mystic fire in her, and bad nursed it to life. Whatever Charlotte Bronte had given to the world was, in his belief, due to M. Heger. While I was in Brussels he was passing through tbe Rued’ Isabelle one dark night aod ran into a group of English tourists, who were gazing anxiously at the walls of the ionnat, discussing eagerly the story of Villette and its hero. ‘Was he lost when the ship went down ?" they asked, arguing the matter to and fro. M. Heger climbed unseen to the top of the steps which lead down to the street. Then he tarned, facing them in the dark- ness, and Basing his lantern on his face cried : “Behold, I am Paul Emanuel !"'— and vanished, chuckling, into the night. It was precisely a thing which Lucy Sonowe's vain, hot-tempered little lover would have done, M. Heger died soon afterward. We may coodemn Charlotte Bronte as weak and underbred when she laid bare her ion to the world and painted for us the human, chivalric little man whom she loved. But what would we have lost if the had not done it. ! Surely the world is a better world because Paul Emanuel is in it !—-By Rebecca Harding Davis.—in the Saturday Evening Post. The Long~Talled Fowis of Japan. That the long-tailed fowl was early in Japan is credible from the legend, evident. ly of abysmal antiquity, of Ama Terasu, the Sun Goddess, who, baving retired into a cavern, to the intense discomfort of the world, was nearly enticed ont again by the crowing ol a long-tailed cock—to remind her, no doubt, that it was her usnal hour to appear. Another somewhat ghostly evi- dence of the antiquity of the breed has been cited in the ho-o bird, which was pictured in Japan as early as the eighth century. This fabulous bird resembled both t and peacock, but it has clearly the tail, and very luxuriant one, of the fowls of Tosa, in which every feather, as the ical Japa- nese remarks, resembles a leaf-blade of the mystical bamboo. It is known that in many kinds of birds certain feathers continue to grow until they are loss by molting, and in all birds it ha occasionally that a feather be mared af an} ding r time. Accordingly, BE a fon ps oN wast are ar in et us say, the tail feathers these will continue to grow longer for the reason that they have bad a I time in which to . aL er a car and breeding from those fowls in whioh the n certain molting season is suppressed A the body, it wenld be possible to obtain a variety in which the tail feathers would be muck longer than in other fowls, a —————— —"“Do you believe in signs?’ ‘“‘Sare, How else would people know what busi. ness yon were in ?"' | The Automobile of the »uture, | When a man takes bold of the knob of his office door he kuoows that year in and ear out, the knob will perform its proper { function. When the housewife sits down | to her sewiug-machioe she knows that bard- | ly once in a thousand times will it fail to | do its work, and do it well. Unreliable is | au indictment to which our cars mast too | often plead guilty. In America we have i done : lot Fo foolish things in motor-car | building, t we are approaching saver | methods and more ey lines. The car | of the fatare, either for business or pleas- | ure, bas vot yet been laid down. He won!d ‘bea bold, perhaps a rash, prophet who would undertake any detailed description of this car. Nevertheless, reasonivg a priori, thereare some features we may proguosticate. In the first place, it will be built of better steel than we have been ac | eustomed to use. lu the next place, the cars will become standardized, 22 when stand. ardizad they will be built by machinery in enormons quantities at an exceedingly low cost. The wheels will be large, built of wood and of the artillery type. Hard rubber or some enduring substance will take the place of the present high-priced unsatisfac- tory pneumatic tires. The car will be light, simple, stiong, and easily kept in repair. Mr. Edison once said the aatomob le will never be wholly practical until it is fool- proof and the ordinary repairs can be made on the highway by a darkey witha moukey- wrench. The present highly unsatisfactory system of chang-speed gears will he sup- planted by a variable-speed device. There are not wanting good jadges who believe that the problems will be solved by a system of bydraulic transmission. Tha fuel of the foture will be kerosene or grain alcohol. Thirty-five per cent. of the population of America are farmers. The farmer will be the chief automobile owner and user. The maximum epeed of his car may he only twenty miles per hour, hus this is twice as fast as his present mode of travel. The car will be an invaluable adjunct to his work on the farm. The adjustment of a belt, the turn of a crank, and the automo- bile engine furnishes power to thresh his grain, cat his wood, chop his feed, and pump his water. After being in constant use all the day, the caris ready to take the entire family to the social gathering iu the villiage at night, or to church services on Sunday worning. The farmer will use the aatomobile as will the butcher, the baker, and the storekeeper—when he can in no other way get the same amount of work done at so low a cost ;and when the business man can deliver his goods more quickly and more economically than he can by using the horse he will do so. There will always be .aotor care de luxe for the rich, but they will be merely the fringe of the garment of a great industry. The countless millions of tons of freight now slowly and painfully drawn over coun- try roads and through city streets by poor dumb brates will go spinning along, the motors of the heavily laden tracks hum- ming a tune of rich content, and all the thousand tongues of commerce will sing the praises of the motor car. Let me suggest a few practical things that the tireless horse of the future will ac- complish : 1. It will solve the problem of the over- congestion of traffic in our city streets. 2. It will free the horse from his bar- dens. A few years ago, in the city of New Orleans, an old darky came in from the conutry and for the first time saw the elec- tric street-car, which bad taken the place of the mule-drawn car. The old darky threw op his hands, and locking up to heaven, said, ‘‘Bress de Lord,de white man freed de nigger, now he done freed de mule.” 3. The antomobile will farnish relief to the tenement house districts. 4. It will stimulate the good-roads movelnent throughoat the United States. 5. It will save time and space and be. come iuvaiuable to the physician, to the fireman, and to many classes of citizens, 6. It will tend to break down class dis- tinction, because one touch of automobil- ism makes the whole world kiv.— Harper's Weekly. The Christ of the Andes. We are acoustomed to sneer at the belli- cose turhulent politics of South America. But Brazil, Argentina and Chile bave risen to a realization of their responsibilities and are guite as solicitous of peace preservation as are we of the United States. At the peace conference in New York a woman delegate from Argentina, Senorita Carolina Huldobro, spoke of a beautiful incident which received only passing comment in the newspapers at the time. Her speech in part is as follows : ~ The inanguration of the monument of Christ the Redeemer, on the Cordillera of the Audes—a monument of international peace (the first in history) between Chile and Argentina—has a grand significance at once political and social. The colossal statue upon that pinnacle, 14,450 feet above the sea, surrounded by Jenks of perpetual snow, dominating as it oes the two countries of Argentiva and Chile, whose people have been nurtured in the same cradle and whose history is one, long though they had been blinded by fool- ish antagonisms. Now they can look up the meusiain and fwlise She luson o peace that sa e law—'‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.” The Divine Master Jesns, the personification of concord and love, points ont to the two republics their fature path, aud the love which will make of humauity in the generations to come, one world-wide family,and the whole earth the home of peace ! The statue was dedicated in March,1904, The figure itsell is 26 feet in height, the statue, pedestal and base were carried across the 654 miles by rail to Mendoza, thence 80 miles to La Cueras, where the huge crates were transferred to gun car. riages, for the journey of many miles over mountain roads. Scldiers and sailors acted as guard to the precious burden. In many i fearing that il left to the mules to draw an accident might happen, those sturdy men took the ropes themselves and drew the heavy carriage over those Andean roads where a false step might mean in- evitable death. The statue cost $100,000 and was oid for by popular subscription, the working classes contributing liberally. Souly a bit vot Seatigast py. a smttional people, e skeptic; marks Doe i It marks an actual achievement. The statue had not been standing one year when Brazil and Bolivia settled the long-standing dispute over the rights to the Acre territory— giving back to Bolivia the whole of the territory together with $10,000,000 which Bolivia is spending in railroads. --—Remember, people will work the better because they work from love, not : merely doing their duty and obeying ina | blind way. i THE BREADFRUIT TREE. Many Ways In Which This Strange Asiatic Plant Is Utilized. The breadfruit tree is a native of southern Asia, the south Pacific islands and the Indian archipelago. In appear- ance it resembles somewhat the wild chestnut, It grows to the height of forty or fifty feet and has dark green leaves, many of them two feet In length, which are deeply divided into pointed lobes. Hidden among the great leaves the breadfruit grows. It is a sorosis, is nearly spherical, often four or more pounds and has a yellow rind. This fruit is the chief food of the south sea islanders. They seldom eat a meal without it. The eatable part lies between the rind and the core and when fully ripe is yellow and julecy. It is better for fruit before it has fully matured, and the natives gather it while the pulp is white. Before it is ready for table use it must be roasted, when It looks like wheat and bread and is both palatable and nutritious. Usually the fruit is cut Into three or four slices and roasted or baked in an oven. Frequently the people of a village join in making a huge oven, in which several hundred breadfruits may be baked at one time. Thus they are all supplied with bread without Its cost- ing any of them much labor. Prepared In this way, the bread will keep for weeks. The breadfruit is In season eight months of the year. When the season finally draws to a close, the last fruits are gathered and made Into a sour paste called “mahel.” This paste will keep good for and is made into balls, wrapped in leaves and bak- ed, just as needed. Bread is not the only product of the breadfruit tree. From it cement, cloth, tinder and lumber are also ob- tained. A glutinous, milky juice oozes from the trunk of the tree, which makes an excellent cement when boll ed with cocoanut oll. From the fibrous inner bark a kind of coarse cloth is made, and the big leaves make good towels. The lumber Is used for build- ing houses and many other purposes. Besides all this, the dried blossoms are used as tinder when fires are kindled. POINTED PARAGRAPHS. Bome people cry loudly for justice when mercy Is really what they want, There is never much kicking about the rules of the game by those who happen to win. A young person's kind of wit is usu- ally the kind that gives an old person nervous prostration. If a man tells a lle, which is pre- dominant—his remorse at having told it or his pride in having told one that passed for the truth? You may think you are lonesome, but you will never know what lonesome- ness is until you are on your death- bed aud realize that you are going alone. Every boy who plays around railroad yards and makes a practice of jumping on trains imagines he Is a great deal more clever than the one legged men of his acquaintance ever were.—Atchi- son Globe. On the Rack. The expression “putting a witness on the rack” has an ancient origin. The courts had an unpleasant way of putting a refractory or unsatisfactory witness on the rack, which was an open wooden frame, upon which was laid the victim. His wrists and ankles were tled to two rollers at opposite ends of the frame. The rollers were then moved with levers until the ten- sion caused the body to rise level with the frame, and then questions were addressed to the witness. If he still proved silent or if his memory needed refreshing, the rollers were moved slowly until the wretch's bones started from the sockets, Granite, the Bedrock of the Earth. Granite is the bedrock of the world. It is the lowest rock in the earth's crust and shows no signs of animal life. It is from two to ten times as thick as all the other layers of rocks combined. No evidences of life of el- ther animal or vegetable are apparent in granite. The presence of lime is due to animal life. Some scientists as- sert that all the lime in the world has at some time been a part of some ani- mal. This includes human beings. No Apology Needed. “I hope our running the graphophune last night didn't annoy you,” sald the renter of the third floor flat. “What?” responded the new renter of the fourth floor flat, producing an ear trumpet. “I say it's a fine morning!” bellowed the other into the trumpet.—Chicago Tribune. A Portrait of Wordsworth. One of Charles Lamb's friends said to him that he had never seen Words- worth. “Why, you've seen an old horse, haven't you?” asked Charles Lamb. “Yes, I suppose 80.” “Then you've seen Wordsworth."— Pall Mall Gazette. Her Dear Friend. Clara—1 wish I could believe what he says, but— Maud—What does say? Clara—Why, he says he ge, and he has known me only to ays. Maud-Well, perhaps that's the reason.—Philadelphia Inquirer, Hardly a Compiiment. Maid—A genfleman to see you, mad- am. Mistress—Is it, by change, my cousin the professor? Mald~No, he doesn’t look as clever as that. He looks more as though he might propese to you.—Fliegende Blatter, | “so she's twenty-five today. 1 FAMILY DISPUTES. How They Were Onze Settled by Falr Fight In Court. In some parts of Germany in days gone by when the relations of husband and wife became strained, so to speak —in other words, when each returning day gave birth to new squabbles and the man’s hand was as ready as the i woman's tongue—the couple were brought before the ma , who, after listening to recriminations, or dered them to prepare for the ordeal by battle. The man was plated in rask, which was then nearly filled rand, so that he was covered up to i waist. In some towns a pit was keg handy for the purpose, just as ducking stool was kept on Bgnkside, opposite St. Paul's. When he was thus half buried, the man received a short stick for his right hand, while his left hand was tied up across his chest. He was thus one armed and could only deliver his blows if his op- ponent came near enough. The lady put on a linen garment, the right sleeve of which was lengthened. In the end was tled up a stone. The sleeve projected about twelve inches beyond her hand. She had thus a for- mjdable weapon, but in order to use it she had to get close to her enemy. Now, observe the situation and the chances. If she succeeded in bringing the stone down upon her husband's head, she might knock him senseiess; she might even brain him, but in-order to do so she would expose herself to the full blow of his stick. The battle might, in fact, be settled by a single assault. But mark the craftiness of man. It was better to make a woman ridiculous than to knock her silly. The husband, therefore, if he was a philos- opher, did not try to hit his wife. He warded her blows with his stick. He tried to catch the sleeve upon his stick. Then the stone flew round and round, and the lady was caught. She could not move, and the victorious husband dragged her, unwilling, head first into his cask.—London Queen. TELESCOPE LENSES. of These Astonishing Sensitiveness Wonderful Glasses. With the exception of astronomers, few persons have any idea of the won- derful sensitiveness of the lens of a telescope. These marvelous artificial eyes can be produced only by the ex- ercise of the most scrupulous care in the selection of the glass itself, con- summate skill and inexhaustible pa- tience. The process of grinding and polishing often occupies several months. When the lens of a big telescope Is completed, it constitutes one of the greatest marvels wrought by man, An article in the Literary Digest de- scribes how the sensitiveness of a lens was illustrated by Alvan Clark, the greatest lensmaker America has pro- duced: Mr. Clark walked down to the lens and held his hand under it about two feet away. Instantaneously a marvei- ous spectacle burst into view. It seem- ed as if the great glass disk had be- come a living volcano, spurting forth jets of flame. The display was dazzling. Waving, leaping, dancing, the countless tongues of light gleamed and vibrated; then fit- fully, reluctantly, they died away, leav- ing the lens reflecting only a pure, un- troubled light. What is it? How do you account for the wonder? were the eager ques- tions. It is only the radiation of heat alternately expanding and contracting the glass. If the hand had been put upon the lens itself, the phenomenon would have been more violent. To a person ignorant of lenses the almost supernatural sensitiveness of a mass of glass weighing several hun- dred pounds is astonishing, but to the scientist it is an everyday matter, for he has instruments that will register with unfaltering nicety the approach of a person fifty or a hundred fee’ away. His Share. A gamekeeper found a boy fishing in his master’s private waters, “You mustn't fish here!” he exclaim- ed. “These waters belong to the Earl of A.” “Do ther? I didn’t know that,” re- plied the culprit, laying aside his rod. He then took up a book and come menced reading. The keeper departed, but on return- ing about an hour afterward found the same youth had started fishing again. “Do you understand that this wa belongs to the Earl of A.?" he “Why, you told me that an hour ago!” exclaimed the angler, in sup prise. “Surely the whole river doesn't belong to him? His share went by long ago!"—London Telegraph. No Hessians Need Apply. Aunt Sally Linnekin was looking ad- miringly at a collection of souvenir postal cards brought back from Europe by one of her summer boarders. “Now, this one,” said he, showing a handsome card, “is from Hesse, where those Hessian soldiers came from, you know.” Aunt Sally put down