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 <he cards and
rose up in intense indignation.
“Land sakes!” she exclaimed in hor
ror. “Did you go there?’
No Secret.
“Well, well,” exclaimed Miss
vol peroTiee er IE T Soi ET
er
y hér
thé same age.”
“ob, no,” replied Miss Knox; “she
knows that, of course.”
“She knows that I'm twenty-five?”
“No; that ou were."—Philadeiphin
Press.
Diligence increaseth the fruit of toil,
A dilatory man wrestles with 103808 =
Heslod.