R—————
ms
a...
Bellefonte, Pa., November i5, 1907.
THE DOCTOR'S DREAM
[By request |
Last evening 1 was talking
With a doctor aged and gray.
Who told me of a dream he had,
I think ‘twas Christmas day,
While snoosing in his office
The vision came to view,
For he saw an aogel enter,
Dressed in garments white and new,
Said the angel, “I'm from heaven,
The Lord just sent me down
To bring you up to glory
And put on your golden crown.
“You've been a friend to everyone,
And worked hard night and day;
You have doctored many thousands,
And from few received your pay;
“80 we want you up in glory,
For you have labored hard,
And the good Lord is preparing
Your eternal, just reward.”
Then the angel and the doctor
Started up toward glory's gate,
But when passing close to Hades,
The angel murmured, “Wait—
“1 have got a place to show you,
It's the hottest place in hell,
Where the one's who never paid you
In torment always dwell.”
And behold, the doctor saw there
His old patients by the score,
And grabbing up a chair and fan,
He wanted nothing more;
But was bound to sit and wateh them
As they'd sizsle, singe and burn,
And his eyes would rest on debtors,
Whichever way he'd turn.
Said the angel, “Come on, doctor,
There's the pearly gates | see;
But the doctor only muttered,
“This is heaven enough for me."
He refused to go on further,
But preferred to sit and gaze,
At the crowd of rank old dead-heads
As they lay there in the blaze.
But just then the doctor's office clock
Cuckooed the hour of seven,
And he awoke to find himself
In neither hell nor heaven.
— Woodyard Kindling.
THE UNRETURNING,
The bride’s right shoe pinched intoler-
ably, and her head ached, and her muscles
pined for relaxation. The country made
traveling dress, pulled down too
tightly io the back, forbade her comfort-
able middle-aged sewi-stoop, and com-
pelled an unnatural erectness, To sit up
straight all day in new clothes, to smile
perpetually, to wear one’s self ous sight-
seeing, to eat unwholesome boliday things
at strange and irregular hours—this, she
sold herself, was Suvagh to wake anybody
feel cross and wretched. Bat in ber heart
she knew that her trouble lay deeper.
They bad finished she luncheon for
which they bad returned to the hotel, and
loitered now in one of the ornate reception-
rooms; in which, as in the rest of the es-
tablishment, she had already praised every-
thing until sbe bad hegon to bate every-
thing—mirrors, roge, pictures, furniture—
accessories all, she dimly fels, in the pro.
longed torture of forced conversation. Oh,
to be silent, sullen, solitary ! But ready
ji epared with his eternal acquniescent smile,
he was banging, as is were, upon her lips.
If be just wonldu’s be so polite, so defer-
+ntial, so eager to agree with her on every
possible and impossible point—in a word,
= absolutely ard determinedly the
In the full merciless afternoon light she
looked at him, 10 his unbecoming, insist
ently new suit-~bridal in every hard line
and crease, as bridal as the gallantry which
would not suffer her to speak without in-
stant, unreasoning assent, or to step across
a straw io her path withoat the assistance
of hie hand elevating her elbow--and noted
with resentment the depth of the crow’s
feet around Lis pale blue eyes, the deep
lines in his brow, the thinness of the griz-
zled hair about his temples; above all, the
unvarying vague smile creasing his meagre
cheeks, betokening the joyfulvess of the
occasion, and compelling something of re-
sponse in kind from her.
Fartively she looked at him. Bat it
was of the room she spoke. ‘Things look
s0 different in a real good lighs,*’ she said.
‘*Just see those on thas table, and
how the furniture is beginning to fade.”
He assented warmly; and etlessly she
les the subject drop. How tiresome it was
for him to be always agreeing, and how uc-
interesting he was !
Somehow the kind neighbor, the valued
friend, in his new role of bridegroom irri
tated her to an extent at which, in the
depth of her good womanly hears, she
marvelled. He frested her as one would he
fretted in fever by stale, choking,
terously, unappealing cake--when
soul was crying ont for water.
She wonldn’s go out any more that day,
she told him; her head ached; bat he must,
No--positively he must not stay with her.
She preferred, she preferred that be should
go. And with bis usual docility he yield.
ed--with manifest scruples.
. And 80 “- hott or two she would have
or her own e very sanctuary her
mind seemed not free from invasion when
he was by. But now--what was to hinder
ber sounding the depths of that pain to
whioh her secret discontents and irritations
bad been but as the surface bubbles of a
great sea ?
“Oh, Jim, Jim, Jim !"’ she sobbed.
‘‘How could I--could I—"’
The sense of loss, even in the first hour
of loss, bad scarcely been so keen, the
yearning ‘for bim ly so intolerable.
Bus how blessed a thing were tears alter
inky Leki iin
rom ng presence |
‘‘He's good, he's kind, he’s well off and
looked up to; there aren't any children to
make trouble, and I was ail aione. Its did
seem like it was the right thing to do. Bas
oh, Jim, Jim I" she said—‘‘to think of
him in your place !"’
She did not know that she bad eried ber-
sell to sleep, like a miserable child, until
she opened her eyes and saw her husband
sitting by the window in the clear pallor
Ssoneding sauset—his bead resting upon
With the placidity of sleep yet npon ber
she looked at him without word or move-
mient to show that she was awake, her heart
vaguely smiting ber—he seemed so old, so
tired, so unaccounsably bowed and shrunk.
en
“80 you've come hack ?’ she said, with
whatever of sprightliness and »nggestion of
welcome she could infuse into her tone.
With a start he turned, obviously tryi
to summoo his accustomed smile. **
came hack an hour ago—may be two bours,”’
be said. He looked as his watch. ‘Nearer
three,” he amended. ‘I ought to bave
known by the sun. Bat I wasn't notio-
i J»
at hope you've heen resting—like I've
been,’’ she said. . Bigs weing is mighty
pice, but toc much it at a time don’t
suis settled people like us.”
“No, it don’t,”” he agreed. ‘I didn’t
think I'd do any more of it today, except
what youn could do riding up and down on
the street cars. After all, New York isa
bigger sight than anything in it.”
“That was a good idea,’’ she said —"'jast
to ride up and down on the cars. You
didn’t get out at all ?”’
To ber languid wonder a deep red mount-
ed to the very line of bis thin hair. *‘I—
I didn’t intend to.”’ he stammered, *‘but
we were passing a place where they make
tomb-tones—"’
She broke into a laugh, the spontaneity
of which surprised hersell. ‘‘Were you
thinking of getting one for yourself—or
me?" she queried. Aud then she crim-
soned in sudden comprehension.
An awkward sileuce fell upon them—
which she seemed as powerless to break as
he, who made no pretensions to the gift of
ready speech. And, indeed, it was he who
ended it.
“I would like to get a better one for my
~—for Maria,” be said.
He turned bis tense face toward ber, with
a curious mingling of apology, appeal,
wistfulness, and something which savored
of doggedness.
“She was a good womwan,’’ he said.
“So people say,”’ she answered, vaguely.
She struggled from the bog of speechiess-
pess into which shey had again sunk by aid
of the first straw which presented itself.
“Did you find anything that soited
you?" she inquired. ‘‘If you didn’t and
you'd like for me to go along with you and
help yon to pick out one—"'
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to
bother you abont it.”
“It wouldn't be bother—it would be io-
teresting,’’ she urged, sensible of missing
the note she intended.
Even before he spoke there was repudia-
tion of her ion so instinctive and
complete in the slight contractile movement
of his shoulders that she reddened with a
feeling of rebuke.
“No, I thank you,’’ he said, with final.
ity. ‘‘But you must see the stores,”’ be
ded, after a moment—‘‘and buy some
little things to take back with youn.”
The uncomfortable blood mantled again
in her comely middle-aged face. “I
baven’t the craze about shopping some peo-
ple have,” she said. ‘‘I never did care
about buying things just to be buying.”
“Of course not,”’ he said, mechanically.
He did not see her chagrin, it was evi-
dent, or really note her attempted demur-
rer to his misunderstanding. For the time
unmistakably his thoughts were not upon
her. She had longed,during the past week,
for some such interval in his oonremitting
attention —so, she would say to herself, that
she might call her soul her own! The
wall of abstraction beyond which be bad
withdrawn left her free and solitary. And
they sat in silence while the twilight fell,
be seeming to sosn the street scene below,
she with a yesterday's newspaper outspread
apon her lap.
With something of a guilty atart he re-
covered himself at last. ‘'Let me turn on
the light so that you can see,’’ he said, ris-
ing with the stiffness of overwearied mus-
cles and the hurry of ossiduity.
*~pon’t the dark come on soon?’ she
said, to say something. ‘‘I always feel
when November begins that I'm going into
a long gloomy tuonel—with nothing be.
yond is. It sort 0’ seems that everything
is over and done with—""
His assent was ohviously wore than
formal. ‘‘Bui.’’ be said, lamely, ‘it ain’s
really so. Avd-—and it won't do for me to
abuse November,”’ he added—"‘after what
it’s broughs !"’
She flushed a little at the somewhat gal-
vanic gallansry. *‘Don’s bother about
saying things like that,’’ she said.
He stared at her 10 a blankness which
banished words.
“I koow,’’ she said, ‘‘that you don’t
really feel like saying them."
He opened his mouth—and shut it. He
had no talent for deception.
His distress awoke in her an ohscure
spasm of amusement which sought no vent
in smiles nor disturbed her essential grav-
ity.
‘‘How long bas is been,’ she asked, with
out preamble, ‘‘since she died ?"’
An overcome reluctance spoke in the
Sune of his response. ‘‘Ten years—next
April.
The very pause which followed held the
theme in suspeusion before them—to his
distaste, as was evident in a certain restiesa-
ness of movement. But conversationally
he was always belpless.
“Ten years ia right long to wais,’’ she
commented. ‘I seppose you didn’t really
intend to marry at all ?”
*‘No,’’ he answered.
Unmistakably the fataously proper thing
to say rose nebulously before bis mind and
was dismissed —in view, perhaps, of her
Fobbision; dismissed with symptoms of
relief.
“No,” be said, again.
‘‘I reckon it was with you like it was
with me,*’ she said. ‘‘You just did what
seemed right when the time came. It
looked like a pity for you to be all alone
in your house, and for me to be all alone,
or the same as alove, in mine, when we
might be sitting by the same fire and belp-
ing each other ous.”
He murmured inarticulate assent.
‘“‘You were always helping me out, auy-
way,’’ she continned—'‘abous what to do
with the little I bad to live on—and every-
thing else—from ting my garden to
getting up my well-bucket when it drop-
ped to the bottom. There wasn’t much I
sould do for you, but—"’
“It’s been a great thing for me,” he
said, to bave you to sit with alter supper
and—"’
“A long evening with nobody to talk so
is mighty lonesome,’’ she agreed.
‘Is was a sober-sided courtship—if you
can call it a ocourtship—wasn’t it?" she
said, breaking the long pause.
He assented, manifestly casting aboot
for some form of apology. ‘You know I
pever was much of a band at talking,”” he
stombled.
“I don’t see that you can’t say every-
thing you want to say,” she rejoined.
“And what a person don’t want to say
isn’t worth saying. Don’t think I wasn’t
satisfied,” she went on. “Didn’t I say
Yes, when if anybody had toid me, when
Jim died—"'
Two large sudden tears coursed down her
cheeks. She wiped them away.
‘Don’t old times onme back to yon rome
times 2? she said, parenthetically. * "Twas
like I wanted it so be,”’ ghe harried on,
“the only way for it to he, with two peo-
ple like von and me—having what we have
to remember—though I didn’t know then
what I do now about wifat she was to
you—"'
He looked past ber, a great wistlnlness
upon hie face. ‘‘She was a good woman,”
be said.
“And I reckon she was pretty,” she
said, ‘when she was young ?'’
He waited to commaud bis voice. ‘‘She
always was pretty—to me,”” he auswered.
Desire to ohange the subject clearly
struggled within bim with impulse to con-
tinge it.
“She was as pretty as a picture,” be
said —‘‘white and pink aod slim in the
waist,and with dimples in her cheeks when
she laughed. People who just saw her after
ber health broke down didn’t know what
she was. It was her luogs. I wonder,
sometimes, il I'd taken her to Florida or
Arizona ov somewhere, whether she
mightn’t bave fought it off. But the doe-
tor didn’t tell me. Mayhe they didn’t
think so much of those things in those dsys,
or he might have thought I was too poor,
and it wasn't any use. I was poor in those
days—she never was anything but poor all
the time she was married to me—but I'd
have got the money somehow, if 1'd bad to
sell the roof over my head and the coat off
my back, and live on bread and water the
rest of my life. Idon’t know why I didn’t
thiok of it myself, unless it was that she
always made so light of heing sick that I
just couldn’s realize—God knows it wasn’t
that I grudged her anything—"’
She averted her eyes from the pang upon
his face. ““You can’t realize—some thiugs,”’
she said. ‘‘Is seems like they couldn’s
bappen. ’'Twas that way about Jim. I
never dreamed that he’d be the one. I
used to laugh at him about how quick he'd
marry after I died, and try to make him
promise me not todo is— Bat he never did,”
she added, hurriedly.
He rumioated. *‘I reckon I would have
promised,” he said, ‘if my wile bad ever
asked me. I never denied her anything
that I koow of, and that wouldn't have
been a thiug I would have stuck as.”’
‘‘But you never were a tease like Jim,’
she said. “There never was any better hus-
band than he was, but it wasn’t in him pot
to tease. Is wouldn’s have been Jim if he
badn’t—'twounld bave been like bread with-
out any salt. Bat nobody would have been
any slower than be’d bave been to put any-
body in my place—"’
Their eyes met, and wandered apart in
acute embarrassment.
‘Not,"" she aid, quickly, ‘‘that it really
would have been putting anyhody in my
Place--eit he had married again.’ Twonldo’t
ave been that he'd forgotten me ; ’twould
just have been doing the best he could,
with me gone. And ’¢wouldn’t bave done
me any good, when I was bappy in hea:
ven, to look down and eee him lonesome
aod uncomfortable—"’ :
He passed his hand aocrose bis furrowed
brow. ‘‘I reckon we look at most things
differently,’”” he said, ‘‘when we get up
there.”
“We know then,” she said, ‘‘how to
make allowances. Jim would have prom-
ised as soon as anybody,’ she resumed, *‘if
there’d been any use in promising. Bat it
was a silly thing for me to ask. He was
just as tender-hearted as a woman—and
tenderer-hearted. There wasn’t a thiog in
this world he woualdn’t do for you if he
loved you—'"'
“Twas just that way with my wile,”
be said. ‘‘To the very last, almost, she
wanted to he waiting on me, and—"’
He could not go on for a while.
*‘I don’t kuow what she saw in me,’’ he
saud, with a poor attempt at a smile.
“Love,” she said, “is something youn
oan’s explain.”
The unflattering implication of her words
occurred to ber, bus pot, apparently, to
bim. Or he did not care—absorbed in
other thoughts.
Busied with separate memories, they sat
silens, and yet nos, as heretolore, apart.
An indefinable domesticity of air had taken
the place of formality constraint. Al-
most one might have fancied, to see their
faces, that into the cold electric glare had
orept something of the glow of firelight-- -
they bad so softened and brightened with
the falling of balm upon aching loyalties.
“Some things don’t come in life hut
once,’’ she said at last. She pat ber band
upon his koee, and he laid his owa opon
it. ‘‘But, thank God,’ she added, ‘‘bap-
inesa isn’t one of them !''—By Annie
Ge Winston, in Harper's Bazar.
Sensickness and Equilibration of the
Eyes,
Many people have no doubt noticed
when traveling by sea, that the motion of
the ship could be scen very distinctly, even
when there were no banging lamps, dra-
peries, or fixed points, such as the horizon
or clouds, within range of t.
Some may think that ug she motion
in this way is due to the imagination re-
ceiving its suggestions from the motion of
the internal organs, and especially the
stomach, for I am here supposing the body
to be held perfeotly rigid.
From observations which I have recentiy
made it seems evident to me that the cause
for seeing the motion is entirely different. | Parson
In she first place, you can always see the
motion a fraction of a before you
begin to feel it. In the second place, you
cannot see a perfeotly horizontal motion
or a gentle vertioal (heaving) motion. In
the third place, watching a fixed point
close to youn, such as a pattern on a carpes,
when the ship is pitohing and rolling, is
far more tiring to the eye-sight than when
the ship is motionless or running perfectly
steadily. All this points to the appearance
being due to a true relative motion of she
eyes to the ship.
The eyes are suspended in their muscular
settings, much io the same way as are
ships’ compasses in their bionaocles. The
eyes are, furthermore, balanced,
80 as to make their muscular d ts
as litsle tiring as possible. In their normal
tion, the pull of gravity is exerted
at ra at wa wen:
cular mechanism is compensated for grav-
il -
a oy angular change of will die-
place the eyes just as it d thestom-
ashy that she eyes, being a great
deal more sensitively suspended, will ne"
ter the displacements more quickly. It is
not, Bowavsr, Sue sokiv of 83% wiih
strains eyesight, bat aot of resisting
this motion.
It, with your eyes shut, you attempt to
fix the mental representation of a point,
which a moment previously you were
watching with eyes wide open, you will
find that, alter one or two motions of the
ship, the bodily feeling will precede any
visual sensation whioh your imagination
oan saujuie op. The imaginary point is no
longer fixed, but follows the eyes a« they
let themselves go to the motions of the ship.
No strain of the eyesight is cansed hy a
musoular resistance, and the displacemen
while felt, oan no longer he seen. —Allr
Sang in Nature.
~ Never esteem anything of value unto
thee that shall make thee break thy word
or lose thy self-respect.
Slavery and Tobacco in Old Virginia.
A distinguished writer has averred that
“a true bistory of tobacco would be the
bistory of English and American liberty.”
Perbaps it would not be a greater exaggera-
tion to say that it had something also todo
in popularizing African slavery in America
2 Suough the peculiar institution was not
from on ip the early days in seotions
where tobacco culture was not followed.
Everybody knows that the first Negro
slaves of the thirteen original colonies were
landed and sold at Jamestown, and bas
Rolle’s statement pat: ‘‘To begin with,
this year, 1619, about the last of August,
eame ina Dateh man-of-war, that sold
ne twenty negars.’’
It is a fact, however, that an Englishman
who was once governor of Virginia was a
party to the sale of these ‘‘negars.” 1
qnote from the work of a prominent and
painstaking historian of the Old Dominion:
“In August, 1619, the Treasure, a shi
belonging to Captain Argall, and a Dat
man-of war, which had been engaged to-
gether in robbing the Spanish plantations
in West Indies, arrived with some stolen
Negro slaves, twenty of whom they sold
to the people of Jamestown. This was she
beginning of slavery in the United
States.”
*“The planters readily purchased them to
cultivate tobacco,’ says Cooke; ‘they were
scattered among the plantations; and from
this small nocleus widened, year hy year,
the great African shadow, ont of which
were to issue the lightning and thunder of
the tatore.”” The number of slaves in the
United States in 1756, the generation before
the Revolution, was 292,000, scattered
throngh the provinces from New Eogland
to Georgia; hut the inorease was at first
slow. By the census of Jamestown in 1625
there were only three Negroes there, two
of them women. After the passing of four-
score yeas there were not more than two
thousand slaves in all Virginia, according
to Cooke, bus probably as many as six
thousand, estimates Fiske. It is declared
that about 1617 tobacco was worth in Eng-
land about, in our present money, twelve
dollars aud fifsy ceats a pound! It is bard-
ly to be wondered at that—when such men
as Jonathan Edwards owned slaves, as is
shown by a bill of sale still in existence,
aud Geor, e Whitefield purchased a planta-
tiou and slaves with it to support his
Orphan House, with no one advocating
openly the rights of slaves in America but
Samuel Bewell in Lis Selling of Joseph—
everybody almost in Virginia turoed at-
tention to growing ‘‘the weed’ with the
sheapest aud most suitable labor that could
be procured.
It was a resident of Jamestown, John
Rolfe, who, in 1612, began the systematio
sale of tobacco. When Argall became gov-
ernor five years later he found she vacant
lots, squares and gardens of the village
planted in tobacco, all other industries be-
ing allowed to languish. With she first
s3poriatiou from Jamestown to Europe of
this ‘‘powerful vegetable,’ as Queen Ehiza-
beth designated it American commerce be-
gan.
Bat other things came cut of the culture
of the plant experimented with by the
Jamestown celebrity besides the populariz-
ing of slavery.
In 1616 King James poblished a book
against is. In The Couuterblast to Tobao-
co he characterized it as a ‘‘precious stink,”’
and smoking as ‘‘a onstom loathsome to
the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the
brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the
black «tinking fume thereof nearess re.
sembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the
pit that is bottomless.” ‘‘Is it not the
greatest sin of all,”’ he exclaimed through
bis pages, ‘that you should disable your-
self to this shameful imbecility, that yon
are not able to ride or walk the journey of
a Jew’s Sabbath, but you must havea
reeky coal brought you from the next pot-
honese, to kindle pd tobacco with!"
Pope Urban VIII issued a bull against
it—with no ptible result, but the
preachers of Virginia received their salaries
in tobacoco, clinging so tenaciously to it as
to compel the famous ‘‘Parson’s Cause.”
This ‘‘oause’ was an obscure lawsuit, but
has now assumed the proportious of a his-
toric event. It not only made Patrick
Henry's first reputation as an orator, bus
bis temerity on that occasion emboldened
the people to proteet against the king’s
tyranny, no matter if that protest was re-
garded as ‘‘treason.’’ In a year of failure
in the tobacco crop the Business had enacs-
ed that all debts payable in that commodity
might be paid in money at the rate of two
pence per pound. It was a blow to the
olergy whose legal salary of 16,000 pounds
of tobacco was worth about six pence a
pound. They contended that they were
entitled to their tobacco or its value at six
pence.
John Camm, of William and Mary, was
ove of the contending clergymen—and
thereby bangs a tale which I must digrese
somewhat to relate. Among those who
bad listened to his preaching was Miss
Betsy Hansford. A young friend who had
wooed her without success persuaded
Camm to aid him with his eloquence. The
quoted Scripture to her to prove
the duty of matrimony, and ul her to
ve her baud to his friend. hereupon
iss Betsy, being somewhat acquainted
with the Bible Ny suggested that if he
would go home and look at Second Samuel
12. 7, he would understand the reason of
her obduracy. He accordingly looked and
read : “And Nathan said to David, Thou
art the man !' Bo the Virginia Gazette
shortly afterward annouced the marriage
of John Camm and Miss Bestsy—The
Southern Priscilla.
Bowling Green, Ky.
~——Dr. Wiley, the obief chemist of the
ent of Agricaltare, is endeavori
to learn the wholesomeness of so-call
“soft drinks.” The inquiry is the result
of a request from the War ens for
information ing the d t varie-
ties of aerated drinks that are sold at army
canteens. Dr. Wiley will slosh alage 00
young men upon w will experi-
ment with the drinks usnally sold at soda
fountains and in ‘‘pop” bottles to deter.
mine the efiect, whether deleterious or oth-
erwise. A soda fountain will be installed
at the Department of Agriculture to fur-
nish the requisite fizz water for the olass,
whioh will n next month with the free
soda water. result of the exyeriments
will be turned over to the War Depart-
ment and will also be made the subject of
a by Dr. Wiley to the Secretary of
ag Wiley y
—Feiend—Hello, old man, I hear I
Were bela up and robbed by footpads last
0
hs Magnate—I was.
Friend =Antully unpleasant exper-
Oil Magoate—Ol, I don’t know. It
had iss good points. They didn’t complain
that my money was tainted.
—A man went to Atlantio City last
summer for a change and rest. The hotel
got the change and the porters got the rest.
Forestry Applied 10 the Farm.
Through a revival of interest in forestry
among farmers, inducing them to de-
vote a pars of sbeir land to iree plaosing,
the State Board of Foressry of Indiana in
time to find a solution of the rap-
idly-d pg-timber pioblem. The
number of manufacturing concerns iv
iana bave because of the for-
merly abundant timber supply, but they
are now facing an embartasing situation
in their inability to get a supply adequate
to meet their needs. Railroads are having
difficulty in finding lomber for their own
use ; lnmber for building material is roarce
and high and the fuel scarcity from a tim-
ber staud point has become acute,
The forestry board advocates that each
farmer set aside a pars of bis farm for tim-
ber growing, to he planted according to
the timber needs 10 varions localities. At
present the farmer who has disposed of all
the timber ou his farm is compelled to buy
at high prices for his own buildiug and fence
needs. Thus, the board argues, he is the
loser. Secretary Wm. Freeman, of the
State Board of Forestry, says !
The idea is frequently advanced that
when all timber is gone there will be sub-
stitutes that will answer the different pur-
poses. Also many say there will be plen-
Ny of timber as loug a= they live aud alter
that they do not care. It will be found
impossible to substitute in the majority of
uses. There is a quality about wood that
is indispensable, and because it cannot be
manafsctured, but must grow, the fature
supply cau only be hoped for through for-
estry. Puttiog to the most wise oue the
present supply and growing new forests is
the only and absolute way to bave timber
in the fnture.
It is frequently asked what proportion
of the farm should be devoted to forestry.
In the best agricuitural district a fair
fractioual estimate would be from one-
twelfth to ope-sixteenth of the land, and
where not well suited to faring the area
devoted to forestry should be larger. As
broken land is far better and wore profita-
ble when devoted to forest and fruit grow-
ing, ao estimate of from one-ball so one-
sixth would not be too large.
The wood lot in Indiana can be planted
in no better kinds of trees thao those nat-
ural to the woadlacds tbroughout the
State. No more valuable trees could be
introduced, viewed from every standpoins,
thao the white, burr and red oaks, Ameri-
can ash, black walnut, shellbark hickory,
yellow poplar, wild cherry, American elm,
sycamore, maple and linden. For fencing-
posts cross-ties, telegrapb and telephone
poles, the American chestnut, black locust,
catalpa speciosa, osage oravge, mulberry,
Kentucky coffee tree and red cedar are the
best. The woodlot should contain a mix-
ture of these two olasses of trees, as the
problem, especially with she farmer, is
amber for fecciog, building and wood for
fuel. The farm forest should be free from
worthless species, and trees of experiment
should be given no room and time. Let
the experimental stations develop all such
doubtful points as growing trees, the obar-
aoter and quality of which in thie section
are unknown and doubtfal.
A Scrap of History.
| While reading of the descendants from
| Guat) William MeAlevy of Revolution-
ary fame in the Herald Dr. W. H. Flenner,
| of Tyrone, shougut that she following
soraps of history as be learned it from the
MocAlveys in an early day might be inter-
esting at this time.
General McAlevy, the old pioneer from
whom MeAlevy’s Fort, in Jackson town-
ship, Huntingdon ocounoty, received its
name, was a native of Camberland vailey.
He conceived that be could wee as sharply
and run as fleetly as any Indian. He bad
many conflicts with the red men, which
proved his strength and bravery, for be was
generally the victor. On one occasion
when hunting, after taking an elevated po-
sition on a stump to look for game, he saw
an old man ronning burriedly al the
path a short distance from him. He learn-
ed that the man bad been severely wound-
ed by Indians, and tbat they were still in
pursait ; he advised she man to go ahead
and conceal himself. Soon there followed
five stalwart savages ; the general took
steady aim at the largest and fired ; the
report of the rifle and the yell of the war-
rior echoed together—there was one Indian
less. Bing, bang, bang, whizzed the bul-
lets olose to the general’s head ; he think-
ing ail bad shot, retreated from his hiding
Place, when whil, whizzed another bullet
nto the geneml’s leg. Bleeding and
pained, he managed to reach hie fort.
This fort stood near where MeAlevy's
Fort now stande, and was rudely construot-
ed of logs laid compactly, had a puncheon
floor and clap-board roof ; is was built
daring the general's first ng,
after which he cleared a small patch in
which be planted corn and sowed other
seeds ; then he madea canoe. The tree
was found, the axe was laid upon it ; the
proj length wae taken, but the general
could not get is to the stream and it was
abandoned. Farther up the stream another
tree was seleoted whioh filled the purpose.
The canoe was made, other arrangements
were pared, then General MoAlevy
rowed off for bis family. Down the bub-
ling oreek of Stone into sparkling Juniata,
he glided along
*O'er the waters so bine ;
Like a feather he floated
In his pine tree canoe.”
On to the fascinating valley of the Cuamber-
land. Then iv the same canoe, and back
over the same waters he rowed his family
to the, then, wilds of Huntingdon county.
This old veteran rests in the -MoAlevy’s
Fort cemetery. — Tyrone Daily Herald.
The Ground-Hog Sleeps,
The woodohuck’s is & ourious shift, a
oase of nature ontdoing herself. Winter
spreads far and fuss, ard Woodohuok, in
order to keep ahead out of danger, woald
peed wings. But he wasn't given any.
Must he perish then ? Winter spreads far
but does not go dee own only about
four feet ; and Woodohuok, if he cannot es-
cape overland, oan, jethapu, under land.
So down be goes through the winter, down
into a mild and even temperature, five long
feet away—bat as far away from the snow
and cold as Bobolink among the reeds of
the distant Orinoco. Indeed, Woodohook’s
ie a farther journey and even more won-
derful shan ink’s for these five feet
carry him beyond the hounds of Sime and
space into the mysterious realm of sieep,
of suspended life, to the very gates of
death, That he will return with Boho-
link, thas he will come up alive with the
spring out of this dark way, is very
strange.—[ Dallas Sharp, io the Ootober
Atlantic.
—— Armour, the pork packer, began life
On a newspaper; be made all his money by
the ‘‘pen.”
——The postmaster on Pike's Peak bas
the highest office in the United Biates,
in New Japan.
Father-love is presty much the same Eas
or West, avd fortunately for the race we
find beautiful out-croppings of jatentsl
A Japanese
selfeacrifice in all lands.
monthly affords this instance:
Talk of a jinrikisha-man and the mind at
once revolts against bis trade and associ-
ates with him a life eked out in misery
and a family steeped in depravity and ig-
norance. Rat with the will, even a jin-
rikisha-man can be respectable and noble
in heart and bis children exemplary, more
+0 than average folks.
Motojiro Naruse lives at No, 20 Tausu-
machi, Yotsuya, with his mother avd only
daughter of sixteen named Ko, whose
mother deserted her father when Ko ean
was a baby. For years the man bas earned
a living from bis solitary vehicle, bus
failed to save one yen a month to pay the
school fee for his daughter.
Ko on her part well understood and ap-
preciated the kindness of hee father in thus
giviog ber an education in spite of his hard
circumstances, and for eight years has never
bad a mark of ahsence put against her
name in the school, each year coming out
at the head of herolass. At the end of the
school year just ciosed ehe graduated from
No. 1 ward School of Yotsuya as a scholar
of high excellence ou all subjects and con-
duoot, aud was awarded as a prize a writing
desk and a dictionary. Tbe principal of
the school is proud that his institution bas
sent forth his model girl. The pride should
be fully shared by her father.
Antographs and Holographs.
*‘An autograph,’’ said an antiqoary, ‘‘is
worth nothing, while a holograph may be
worth $1,000 or more. An au ph ofa
man is his simple signature. His bolo-
graph i= one of his signed letters, and its
value depends oo its interest.
‘Some men are such fools that they
think autographs valuable and holographs
worthlesss,
*‘I know a man who found in his grand-
father’s chest a lot of important letters of
Franklin, Washington, Aaron Burr, Hami}-
ton, Audre and Jefferson. He read these
letters; then he hurned them, first cutting
out the signatures,
“For the signatures he got fifty cents
apiece or thereabouts. For the letters in
their entirety he would have got ten from
$100 to $500 apiece.
“By this loss of about $24,000 the wan
learned the difference hetween an auto-
graph and a bolograph.”’—Philadelphia
Bulletin.
A Libel.
‘‘I see by the county paper,’”’ said the
visitor, ‘‘that Jovas Jones, the prosperous
droggist of your town, is sojounrning—"’
“I eaw that, too, and it’s a libel,” ex-
claimed the native, with some heat.
“Why, isn’t be your druggist?"
‘“Yes, hut this town’s too healthy for
him to be prosperous.”
~— ‘1 want to tell you, old man,” said
Krotchets, ‘‘how thoroughly ashamed I am
of the temper I displayed last night. Your
wife and sister must have thought me
orazy."
“No, they didn’s,”’ replied Brightly, *‘1
fixed shat all right.”
“Ah, so good of yon, old man.”
“Yes, I told them yon were drunk.”
Country Doctor.—Thet’s the worst case
of wryneck I ever see, Peleg. How'd you
get it? Peleg—Drivin’ thet new mare o'
mine an’ everlastin’ly lookin’ hehind ¢’ see
il an auto was comin.’
pitcher; he has been defeated only twice
this season.”
Visitor--*‘How many games has he play-
ed ¥
Farmer--"*Tomorrow will be the third
one.”
—*'‘] can’t understand how that young
lawyer lives. I've never heard of him
baving a client.”
“You haven’st ¥ Why, be is one of the
Jesple who helped to break old Biggerson's
will. He doesn’t need clients.”
——He~—Let's go into the conservatory.
She—Oh, dear, no.
He—Why not?
Bhe—Amiong all those rubber plants?
Not much!
==*‘Oh, w ; what makes this glove
80 tight,”’ oried she ;
“I really cannot understand.’’
“I'd be intoxicated, too,’’ said he,
‘Were I a glove upon that band.”
~—Pop—When I was a boy I used to
go to bed with the chickens.
Tommie—Did the chickens used to sleep
in he house, or did you go out to the coop,
pop
— Mamma why do so many ladies
ory at a wedding?’
' most of them are married
themselves.’
~The scheme for cutting a cana! be-
tween New York and Boston is stated soon
to be taken in hand.
—— He issufficiently learned that knows
how to do well and bas power enough to
refrain from evil.
——A girl generally playe with a man’s
heart just about as carefully as a baby toys
with a watoh.
——A married couple who had eighteen
children called the last one ‘‘Anovymons.”’
——A carriage oleaner has so sponge for
a living.
I —
Do Indians travel on socalped siok-
ota ?
A steamer noticed a sailing vessel flying
sigoale of distress and bore down on her.
ben she was within hail she asked what
was the master. ‘‘Water!” came the
answer from oracked lips and parching
throats ‘“‘Give us water, for we are dying
of thirst.” Pointing to the surrounding
water, the steamer’s captain oried *‘Let
down your buckets shen and drink.” Un.
koewn so she thirsty crew they were sail.
ing in the mouth of the mighty Amazon
and the water around them was river wa.
ter pouring out to meet the sea. Many a
woman is orying for help from sickness
and suffering when help lies right at her
door. There is hardly a town or a hamlet
where Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription is
not obtainable, and the use of thie medi-
cine will oure the disorders liar to
women in almost every case. If you are
suffering from inflammation, ulceration or
female weakness, get a bottle of “Favorite
Prescription’’ and begin your cure.