-
Bellefonte, Pa., March 20, 1908.
OPEN THE DOOR.
Open the door, let in the sun ;
He hath a smile for every one ;
his morning's mail, a task he never trusted
to bis secretary. Before him lay the usual
pile of terse, typewritten communications,
and io his band be held a sheet of paper
closely covered with the fine, delicate
handwriting belonging to the old school.
Perhaps, he found the shaded,
capitals and long 8's of the old-fash
chirography bard to decipher, for he scowl-
ed as he read, and swore audibly as he re-
turned it to ite envelope and put it in bis
He hath made of the raindrops gold and gems, | pock
He may change our tears to diadems—
Open the door !
Open the door of the soul ; let in
Strong, pure thoughts which will banis» sin ;
They will grow and bloom with a grace divine,
And their fruit shall be sweeter than that of
the vine —
Open the door;
Open the door of the heart ; let in
Spmpatnhy sweet for stranger and kin ;
It will make the halls of the heart so fair
That angels may enter unaware—
Open the door !
— British Weekly,
YOUR PLACE.
Where duty ealls in life's conflict,
There is your place !
Where you may think you are useless,
Hide not your face,
God placed you here for a purpose,
Whate'er it be ;
Know He has chosen you for it ;
Work loyally.
Gird on your armor ! Be faithful
At toll, or rest,
Whiche'er it be, never doubting,
God's way is best,
Whether waiting or working,
Stand firm and true ;
Do the work well that your Master
: Gives you to do,
— Helen M. Richardson, in The Churchman,
THE AUTOCRAT OF THE SWIVEL
CHAIR,
The chair itself had an opulent and con-
sequential air. It was far more obtrusive
than the large mahogavy desk that oocn-
pied the centre of the room and before
which it was placed. Indeed, it seemed
that the desk was merely an adjunct of the
chair, so thoroughly had the latter become
imbued with the persovality of the man
who sat in it every day.
Other chairs there were, of course. Some
soft and luxurious, for [favored visitors;
others, for unwelcome suppliants, tightly
upholstered in red leather and presenting
slippery surfaces that made tbe bodies of
the occupants appear as ill at ease as their
minde. There was also another, humbly
retreating behind the desk in a manner
befitting a paid dependent. This was the
stenographer’s chair, and it seemed to
shrink from ite large and prosperous neigh-
bor in moch the same manner the stenog-
rapher herself shravk from the man who
owned them all.
For he did own them, body and soul, and
they knew aud resented it accordingly.
The Autocrat was aware he employed a
certain nnmber of clerks; he used them
until they were worn-out, then replaced
them by others. They, in turo, knew they
were cogs in the wheels of a great corpora
tion aod necessary for its proper manipa-
lation, but the knowledge brought them no
personal bevefit.
The junior hookkeeper used to sit upon
bis high stool and calenlate how well he
could live if he had one-eighth of one per
cent. of the anouoal profits of she cor
poration, until, afrer a while, he decided
to become a part of the corporation itself.
1% was an easy transition from junior book-
keeper to junior partuer, and he made it at
one fell swoop.
Or he would imagine himself roshing be-
tween the Autocrat and a would-be assas-
sin aud wodestly disclanning the ensuing
reward. He went xo far sometimes as to
fill in checks for large sums payable to
himself and signed by Peter R. Rutherford,
until the latter geatleman himsell would
bave hesitated to deny the signature.
“My boy''—he could even hear the
tremor of the Autocrat’s voice—'‘you bave
saved my life. Allow me to offer you this
slight token of my gratitude.”
Meanwhile, bis books refused to balance,
and gradually enc day he lived a little
more in excess of his salary.
“Hang it all,” be would protest, ‘‘a
man must live like a gentleman; what can
you expect on fifteen dollar= per?’
And fifteen dollmis it remained, for ad-
vancement was earved only by assiduous
application, and, though the junior book-
keeper's manners were irreproachable, ap-
plication was not his strong point.
The stenographer liked him. He would
open the door or pick up a paper for her
with as muoh alaciity as thougn they were
in a parlor, and, being a woman as well
as the motive power of a machine, these
things helped to sofren existence.
One day. after filling in a check fora
small amount, he cashed is, instead of tear-
in it apart as usual. It was wll ridion-
lousiy easy and helped to tide over an
emergency. When the next emergency
arose, however, the check he cashed was
much larger.
“For,” he argued, ‘one might as well
be hang for a cheep as a lamb, and, aoy-
how, he'll never know the difference.”
Bat the Autocrat had formed she babis
of comparing returned checks with the
stabs in his hook. Consequently, one
morning, the janior bookkeeper’s high
stool was empty, and his ill-kept ledger
closed.
“Bat,” remarked the clerk just above
him, when the first flurry of excitement
had subsided, ‘how did Arnold know just
when to make himself scarce? Who warn-
ed him not toshow ap here to-day? That's
what 1 want to ow Shs
eyes question stenographer,
but che Ao her head.
“I didn’t know about it,’’ she said; ‘‘the
letter to the bank wae only written this
moroing.”’
“Otherwise, you would have told him,
eb, Miss Emory?”
“Yes,” she returned, ‘‘I'd have given
him a chance. He was always nice to
me.
She placed a sheet of paper in her ma-
chine and struck the keys mechanically.
“I'm glad he got away—very,
ad,’ she said. ‘‘Bat he has ruined bh
ile, of consre—nothing can alter that.
did he do is, Mr. Carter?”
r. Carter, who always saved a third of
his earnings, smiled the smile of conscious
rectitude.
“Dabbling in stocks, theatres, suppers
snd —things yon don’t understand, Miss
Emory. Oh, he's ruined bis life, all right!
Old Peter R. won't rest easy till the law
grips him good and hard. And serve him
#, t00; man should live within his in-
come.”
Thus spoke Mr. Carter, whose books
always balanced toa cent, and whose in-
come was not subject to calls.
Meanwhile, the Autoorat looked over
et.
Late that afternoon he drew it forth and
dictated a reply:
My dear Madam:
Relerring to your letter of the 8th in-
stant io regard to your son, Richard Ar-
nold, lately employed by me
I regret to inform you that I am unable
to comply with your request not to insti-
sate legal proceedings in the matter of the
forged checks. In my opinion, to condone
a felony is to put a premiom upon dishon-
esty and encourage vice. The young man
deliberately chose to commit she erime and
must endure the penalty.
I beg to assure you that further appeal
in the premises will be useless. The law
must take ite course.
I am, my dear Madam,
Yours very truly,
PETER R. RUTHERFORD.
The Autocrat swung his swivel-chair
around, and faced his desk.
“That's all, Miss Emory. There's ne
harry; it can wait till to-morrow.”
The clerk: bad gone when Miss Emory
retorned to the outer room, and as she
paused at her own desk she glanced toward
the corner onee occupied by the junior
hookkeeper. Was it imagination to cause
her to see a fignre ina well-known gray
coat upon the high stool? She rubbed her
eves and went closer; is was Arnold him-
self. His arms were crossed upon the desk
and his head was bowed on them ina
characteristically picturesque abandon of
misery.
Miss Emory glanced fearfully at the
room she had just quitted, as she advanced
and touched his shonlder.
“Mr. Arnold’ —she spoke in a whisper
~*‘is this prudent?”
The boy raised his bead in response.
Youth bad deserted him during the night,
ani be looked at her out of hollow, des-
pairing eyes.
*‘Hush!” she said, and immediately sup-
plemented the warning by a question:
“What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know.” He spoke dully and
without intelligence.
“You don’t know?”
‘I think I came for something in my
desk, and’’—he paused uocertainly—'‘and
—well, to see you. It was awfully good
in you to «end shat telegram; I don’t know
how to thauk youn.”
“I sent no telegram.’
He drew a crumpled bit of yellow paper
from his pocket and stared at it inoredu-
lousy.
“Then, who—""
“Idon’t koow’—Miss Emory’s voice
was rather breathless—‘‘but you mustn't
stay bere. Mr. Rutherford is in his office.”
“My mother wrote to him,”” Arnold
spoke with an effort; ‘‘she thinks, perbaps,
he won't prosecute if we promise to make
good.”
“Oh, hut be will. He has just written
to hei—a cruel letter. You wuss go as
onoe.”’
A gleam of hope that had sprung to his
eyes died away as he gos off the stool.
“I'm going.”
Where?"
“I don’t know.”
The girl came a step closer.
“I'm sorry I dido’s send the telegram,’
she said. *'I would bave liked to be the
one to help yon, Mr. Arnold.”
A nmiovemens in she inver room caused
her to pause,
“Oh, go—go!”’ she exclaimed “I'll
stay Liere and top him with somp question
if he comes out. But be guick.”
He disappeared throogh the door lead-
ing to the street and Mise Emory noticed
the droop of his shoulders and heaviness of
his step. She looked toward the inver room,
and thought of the man in the swivel-chair
who held the boy’s destiny in the hollow
of his hand, A man, bard, implacable,
and relentless in bie demand for the pound
of flesh. His stenographer knew him well.
*‘A few paltry dollars,” she murmured;
“what are they to him?”
Then suddenly the girl rebelled against
the irony of Fate, and ber heart was filled
with the hitter helplessness that sometimes
ovewhelms those who toil.
“Oh,” sbe cried aloud, ‘‘it isn’t fair—it
isn’t fair that he should bave so much and
and we so little.”
The Autocrat stepped from his motor at
the doos of hiv club, and told the chavnflear
not to wait. He watched the machine dis-
appear around she corver, then bailed a
passing bansom and gave an address,
The winter's day was closing in and the
street lamps gieamed through the early
dusk as the cab rattled over schblestones
aud turned mavy corners. Little by little
be left the baunts of the wealthy and peve-
trated into the region where prosperity bad
perhaps begun to dawn, bat life is still
strenuous. Another turn or two and he
reached a waste of genteel poverty where
the very cleanliness of front steps and win-
dows seemed to protest mutely against the
price of soap.
Before she six-story apartment in the
centre of the block the cab stopped. The
lust apartment on the top floor consisted of
three rooms : a kitchen, a bedroom, and an
indefinite room where a couch against the
wall suggested the idea that at night ite
shabby cover was removed and is stood
confessed a bed.
On the wall, strangely incongruous, hung
portraits of a richly-dressed man and wom-
an who seemed contemptuous of their sur-
roundings, even as the woman by the win-
dow was oblivious to them. She was pre-
matarely aged and careworn, but bad once
been of the Dresden-china type, and recall-
ed rose leaves and lavender, in spite of the
fact thas, like everything the room contain-
ed, she was worn and faded. Her delicate,
blue veined bands were folded in her lap,
and she gazed with uneeeing eyes ous into
the forests of chimneys stretobing into the
horizon. She was so absorbed, indeed, thas
a knock was twice repeated before she
heard it, and her eyes were filled with fear
when she responded.
The Autociat entered uninvited, and
olored the door.
“Your hell is out of order,” he rematk-
ed, rather as though it were a personal
affront.
She did not reply, but stood tense and
Ppright, waiting until he shoald disclose
his errand
“It is Peter Rutherford,” he said.
“I thought so,’ she replied, ‘‘but I was
Bo} ute, — igi
© com can was a
large man and the obair creaked
a warn-
ing. She into silence and again he
took the initiative.
“I got your letter.”
“And you came instead of writing ?
That was very kind.”
“I bave written also ; you will get the
letter tomorrow afternoon.’
“And it says ?"’
““That I can do nothing. The law must
take its course.”
Her face went a shade paler aod there
was an involautary flutter of her hand to
her breast, but her voice did not tremble
as she spoke.
“Then I will detain you no longer. I
am sorry to have troubled youn.”
He knew himself dismissed, but contin.
ued his calm survey of the room and its
contents. His eyes traveled from floor to
ceiling and from wall to wall, appreciating
the sordid details and aware of each pisifl
makeshift.
“So it is yon,” he said at last— ‘‘you—
Sallie Dangerfield.”
“Mrs. Arnold,” she corrected ; only my
friends need remember Sallie Dangerfield.”
**You bave many friends, of course ?"’
“I bad at ope time; they grow fewer
every day.”
The Autoorat moved uneasily and the
chair instantly announced his indisoretion.
He glanced toward the bedroom and also
into the little kitchen, whose door stood
hospitably open.
“Where is he ?"’
“I would nos tell you if I knew.’
“I could hardly expect you todo #0.”
He paused a moment, then resumed re-
flectively,
“It is unlucky the boy should inherit
his father’s tendencies. I believe Mr. Ar-
nold also—"’
“The dead,’ she interrupted, '‘are be-
yond oriticism.”’
“They are fortunate, Mrs. Arnold, and
often to be envied."
For some minutes they sat in silence ;
then the man spoke as though the words
broke from him against his will.
““The young fool,’ be cried —'‘the young
fool! How could he be so stupid ?"’
‘‘He was poor, you know,’’ the mother
made the statement calmly ; “*besaw things
and wanted them. And he was headstrong
and self-willed ; he would not be advised.”
The Autocrat smiled rather grimly.
*‘A Dangerfield oharaoteristio,’’ he said ;
“I once knew a girl who would not be ad-
vised, Well, she made her own bed.”
‘*And has lain in is without complaint,”
supplemented Mrs. Arnold.
He was looking at the portraits now.
“They are both dead,” be said ; *‘had
you heard 2’
“I know."
“Your brother’’—he hesitated a moment
—*‘Your brother Richard lives on the old
place. He never married.”
“I know,” she said again.
‘*He wants you to come home—he told
me so. He is willing to forges. He said
he had looked for you.”
“I did not want to be found. We man-
aged to live—the hoy and 1.”
‘Yes, with his salary. Bas now ?”’
He rose aod approached her, but she
shrank instinctively.
“Yeu 7"
“Don’t go ; I want to talk to you. I'd
like to thank you, but I can’t. It’s too
hig—too vital a thing for me to talk about.
I had steeled myself to hear it all as I bad
done onoe before—the disgrace, the pover-
ty, the blighting of his life. Ab, he is so
young, so pitifally young! I think I
went down into hell last night before I
wrote to you, and drained the dregs of his.
terness, as you realized. And now—
Ob, Peter, I'd like to thank vou. I'd like
to thank you. . I'd like to ask you to for-
give me for the injustice I've done you --
for the past as well as the presens. On,
the past! the past! And the days and
cudless nights |
‘Don’t’ he interrupted, ‘‘don’t.”” Bat
Mrs. Arnold had more to say.
‘‘It was you who sent that unsigned tel-
egram yesterday ?'’
“Yes.”
“Did you know then who he was?’
“No.”
“Then why did you send it?”
He fingered his bat-brim with a guilty
air, obviously ill at ease.
“I don't know,’ he said ; ‘‘do you ?”’
She laid her hand in his. It was a little
hand, finely shaped and delicate, though it
was wrinkled now, and showed its years of
nsefalness. It trembled a listle as it lay
there, and his heavy eyebrows met with
the contraction of bis forehead as he watch
ed it,
“Ah, yes,” she said, “I know. After
sixty years, at lass I know you, Peter
Rutherford. Yon sent that telegram be
cause ——
“‘Sallie,” be interrupted, ‘‘you’d better
begin to pack np. Yoor brother will be
here tonight; I talked to him over the long-
distance today. Thie is no sort of a place
for a Dangerfield to live.”
Miss Emory laid her finished letters upon
the desk and touched the top one in mute
interrogation,
“Well ?” inguired the Autocrat.
‘“This one,’ she said, ‘‘this letter to Mrs.
Arnold. Will you send it?"
“Why not ?"’
“I thought, perhaps’ —she hesitated,
uncertain how to proceed —'‘perhaps after
thinking it over, you might decide nos to
send is.”
“I think my letters over before I write
them Miss Emory.”
He dipped his pen in the ink and she
watched the formation of the firm, legible
signature in silence. It almost seemed to
her as thoogh she, too, were in some way
at fanlt—as though she were respovsible
for the words she bad written with such
anwilling fingers, The muscles of her
throat tightened and a sense of her own
impotence clutched her like a vice. The
Autoorat, glancing at her, read her opin-
ion in her eyes.
‘‘I have no sympathy for criminals,’ he
remarked, as he hlotted the paper. ‘‘Please
see that this is mailed at once.” —By Ella
Middleton Tyhout in Saturday Evening
‘Ob, I know you don’t like me,” he | Post
said ; “you never did, for that matter ;
and, to do you justive, you never conoeal-
ed bow you felt. Many other people seem to
feel the same way. Believe me, I sympa-
thize with you—that letter yesterday was
robably the bitterest moment of your life.
understood.”
“One of them,’ she said. “I have had
many bitter moments, Peter.”
Not many people called the Autocrat hy
bis Christian name, but it fell quite sim-
ply from ber lips ; she was, indeed, voa-
ware she bad used is.
The room had grown dark, and be took
a silver case from his pockes, selected a
match, and struck it with the precision
that characterized his smallest aot.
“Allow me,” he remarked, and lighted
the vas.
Mrs. Arnold turned her head aside, as
thoogh preferring the shadow, and spoke
slowly.
**You are married ?”’
“Yes.”
“You have a son, perhaps 2’
“*No ; he died in childhood.”
““Tuen I am, after all, richer than you,
for my boy lived.” -
She spoke as though this son were still
an enviable possession, and he looked at
her with incredulous wonder. Even a
great fivancier can scarcely comprehend the
depth of mother-love.
“I wrote to you and asked you to be
merciful,” she said, ‘‘although he sold me
you vever forgave an injury. Bat still I
wrote, hecause, you see, be did nos know
very much about the past. I pever told
him how weil we knew each other years
ago. I thought, perhaps, when you knew
he was my son—all I have left to make life
endurahle—you might —"’
For the first time her voice trembled,
aud she paused abraptly.
“Mr. Rutherford,” she resumed with
quiet digmity, “since you have chosen to
disregard my appeal, may I ask why you
are here tonight 2”
The Autocrat took an envelope from his
pocket and laid it on the table.
“I came to bring the boy his ticket
West,” he said.
“His—ticket— West ?"’
“Certainly. 1 koow he is still in town,
because’’—the corners of his mouth switch-
ed a little—*'the young idiot came back to
the uffice this afternoon. I saw him talk
ing to my stenographer : no doubt they re-
viled me together.”
“I don’t understand.” .
“I will sry and explain. Idid not know
be was your son until I got your lester ;
but I bad noticed him at his desk. He
was an abominably poor olerk, and I bave
often been on the point of having him dis-
missed. I did not understand why I kept
him, but now I know.”
She was listeni intently, her hands
clasped until the veins stood out like cords.
*‘After this, of course, he must go; I
cannot keep him longer in my office. Youn
could nos expeot is.”’
**No,'’ she acquiesced, *‘I could nos.”
“So I wrote to you as an objeot-lesson to
the rest of the force. I kpew they would
bear of the letter.”
“Ba,” she began, ‘why should you
‘‘Wait,"” he interrupted, ‘‘there are cer-
tain conditions to be met. If, as seems to
be 4s oase, the boy bas ieiuted his fath-
er’s propensity—I am sorry, but I must
speak Plainly.
“Go on.”
*““Then the oity is no place for him. Bat
if, baving stumbled once, he will be care-
ful to walk straight in future—well, I have
Muking of National Forests,
There will be one measure hefore the
Sixtieth Cougress providing for an expen:
diture that will uot be an expense, for na-
tionalization that will have in it no ele-
ment of political danger, for the doing hy
the Nation of a profitable business withont
a bint of wocialism. We refer, of course,
to the project for creating National forests
in the Southern Appalachians and White
mountains. The new hill has been care-
fully prepared by officers of the Govern-
mens, in consultation with those best in-
informed of the real conditions in the two
cections, It calls for an expenditare of
$5,000 000—§3.500,000 in the South and
$1,500,000 in New Hampshire and Maine.
Aun able and comprehensive report from
the secretary of agricalture has been made
to Congress and justifies every phase of the
measnre as a well-defined pablio need.
This expenditure will not be an expense
hecause experience has shown that govern-
ment holdings of forest lands, managed by
an efficient forest service, such as the Umit-
ed States now has, soon become paying
propositions. Moreover, the property this
bill aims to preserve isa valuable one
which is rapidly deteriorating because there
if no one in a position to maintain is, We
build ba‘tleships and fortifications at enor-
mous expense, whioh is a real burden upon
the people, to gnaid against loss in a prob-
lematical war. Why shounld we not spend
freely to protect our valuable property
against the heavy losses to our National do-
main incident to ‘‘the savage wars of
peace 2’ There is in this no trespass npon
State or personal rights. The laws and
rules governing the National forests ade-
guately protect the State in its jorisdio-
tion and even in its taxing interest,
The great issue before this counsry for
the next quarter century, although ex-
ternal political indications may not show
it, is to be the conservation of natural re-
sources. This is true because our natural
rexouroes have heer shamefnlly wasted and
we are now feeling this and beginning to
realize the unhappy possibilities which the
future may have in store for ue it waste is
not checked. Upon these resonrces and
their wise management the prosperity of a
people absolntely depends. No amount of
economic science can finance a desert.
Therelore if our country is to remain great
and strong we must husband and perpetuate
the sonrees of our prosperity, and among
the chief of these are the forests.
Life's Autumn,
In Autamn there ie a gradual withdraw-
ing of the vital forces of nature. The sap
ceases to flow, the leaves wither and fall,
the grass dies. In wan’s physical nature
there is a corresponding loss of vitality in
the autumn of life. As about fifty years,
man’s vitality is low and there is need to
re-inforoe Nature if health and strength are
to he retained. I Here's Golden Medi.
cal Discovery is to the body what sap is to
the tree ; it contains and combines the vital
elements ous of which Natare builds her
fabric of beauty. Strengthened by this
great medioine, their blood inoreased in
quantity and in riohness, men Will ps
across life's autumn landscape with th
step and keen enjoyment of a season whic
is in itself beautiful to the healthy man or
woman.
Whenever a laxative is needed, use Dr.
Piee's Pleasant Pellets. They are sure
gE
How to Protect Seeds.
A) nsedly hal rake, mide of birds esteem
effectually protected by coating
Nr,
the seed in a vessel considerably
Hadi
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The word was scarcely audi-
Last Stand for Game Birds Dying Breeds
to be Defended Throughout the
Las need,
NEw Yorg, March 18.—Until all the
mating birds of spring may fly from their
winter homes to the north to rear their
young, safe from she pot shots of unsports-
manlike and market hunters, a national
campaign against spring shooting will be
carried from state to state, it was announe-
ed here today. Acting on the protests of
sportsmen and the warning of the Depart.
ment of Agriculture, the Nasional Associa-
tion of Audubon Societies bas undertaken
to make a last stand for the existence of
the dying races of American game birds in
every state in which shooting daring the
bréeding season is not forbidden by law.
In Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New
Jersey and Oklahoma a determined fighs is
today beiug carried on against the com-
mercial interests which are orgauvized to
fight the movement.
That the most desperate measures have
been taken hy the men who butcher birds
for the market to prevens protective legis.
lation in these states as well as the twensy
others in which the law still leaves the game
birds easy prey while breeding, is known
today. Although this market lobby has
always been active in opposing laws which
threatened to ourtail sheir gains in any
particular state, the possibility of such a
general protection throughout the country
has aroused them to finance a widespread
and onsernpulous fight. To pit against
this rich and selfish interest, the Audubon
workers bave simply the moral sapport of
sportsmen aod the general noselfish desire
of the people to save she game birds from
extinction.
From Jannary first on to a reasonable
open season in the fall is the period in
which proteotiom is to be asked for the
mativg birds and their young. In fifteen
states and nine Canadian provinces the
game hirde are already shielded by law
during this crocial time. Unless such
measures are taken at onoe by the remain-
ing states the government authorities have
agreed that game shooting in this country
will soon cease to exist and every species
hecome extinct,
On the legislatures in the Dakotas, Wy-
oming, Iowa, Nebraska, New Mexico,
Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, Texas,
Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas aod all the
sonthern states will depend the life or
death of American game when this matter
is brought before them this year or next.
In each of these states all the money and
influence of the commercial bird killers
is already at work for their short-sighted
policy of exterminating slaughter for to-
morrow’s table.
*‘Every real true sportsman is behind ns
in the fight for the dying game birds of
thie country,” said William Dutoher, pres-
ident of the association at its headquarters,
141 Broadway, to-day. “We will wake
our stand for these game species just as
faithfully as we have worked for the pro-
tection of the non-game hirds. If every
putriotic citizen will take his place with
us to defend the birds againet rapid extine-
tion, we shall be equipped to oppose all
the selfish interest thas money oan buy
and the gruesome story of the wild pigeon,
the heath hen, the Eskimo curlew and the
Carolina paroquet species, exterminated
by the wasteful greed of man, will not be
repeated.’
Pits of Death,
In the last seventeen years 22,840 wen
have given up their lives in the mines of
this country, and one half of these deaths
have occurred ip the last six years. The
number of fatal accidents each year is now
double that of the year 1895. In 1906,
6,861 men were killed or njared in she
mines, the killed being 2,061. - The num-
ber of accidents caused direotly or indirect.
ly by mine explosions has been steadily
increasing. A statement wade up by
Joseph A. Holmes, Chief of the Teckno-
logical Branch of the Interior Department
gives the foregoing facts in a bulletin issued
December 18, on *'Coal Mine Accidents;
Their Causes and Preventions.” He says
the increase of accidents caused by mine
explosions is in part due to the lack of
proper and enforceable mine regulation; in
part to want of information about the ex-
plosives and how they can be used safely
in the presence of the gas and dust; in part
hecause the number of miners increases
and many areas from which coal is taken
are either deeper or further from the
entrance, where good ventilation is more
difficult, and dangerons accumulations of
explosive gas are more frequent.
In al! European coal-producing localities
the output of coal has inoreaved greatly in
the last ten years, but the number of deaths
per thousand miners has greatly decreased.
This is due to mining legislation made
sible by government action in establishing
testing stations for she stody of problems
relative to «safety iu mining avd the use of
explosives. Where every other conntry is
showing a decrease the United States is
showing an inorease in regard to the num-
ber of deaths per thousand men emploved
in regard to deaths per million tons of coal
mined. A most awfa! illustration of this
terrible sitoation has tortured the sensibil.
ities of the country daring several weeks.
Since the last sentence was written two
hundred more have bean blown out of the
world leaving broken hearted parenis,
wives widowed, and children dazed.
— Christian Advocate Jan. 16th.
The Old Lady was Willing.
The delinquent subacriber who had been
“‘donned’’ heyond all endurance wrote the
assistant editor : ’
“Do let me know when I kin ketch yer
editor-in-chief in his office. Every time I
stop thar they tell me he’s out. What I
want to do in to heat hell onten him 1”?
The assistant editor replied :
“Come right away. Hie wile says he's
got both the devil and the other place in
bim, and she wants you to keep your word
and beat ’em out of him. Come oa.”
i
Helped Him,
A physician out west was sent for to at-
Bip who was ill. He lefta
preseri t away.
pootivtive a Hoi fb later, he found the
better.
“tho Sh dus Le a hi oe a at
on ma w .
I left it a, where he could hold it
in hie band most of the time, and he can
almost read it now. You didn’t mean for
him to swallow the paper, did youn, doo.
tor?’
How tt was Done,
Mother (examining school report) —How
did you come to have such good marks in
arithmetic this week ?
Tommy—Well, Jou ses, ivuanibie deny:
We had ten examples a day, and I
teacher to help me to do five, Erio
Jones got her to help him on the other five,
Then we swapped helps, see?
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN,
DAILY THOUGHT.
Man fails to make his place good in the world
unless he adds something to common wealth, —
Emerson.
It is not difficult to select a blood mak-
ing diet, but it must be closely followed.
Certain medicines are helpfal in this di-
rection, iron being probably the moss valau-
able, but this must be prescrined by a phy-
sician.
Among the foods recommended are un-
derdone meats, hee! blood and raw beef
sandwiches, To make the sandwiches
grate the round steak. This makesa
which is seasoned only with salt. This
mixtare may then be spread either on very
thin or on salted crackers, as one
chooser. They may be eaten at any time
duriog the day.
Beef blood is extracted from the round.
A piece is pus into a frying pan and seared
for about three seconds, first on one side
and then on the other. The object is mere-
ly to heat the meat, not to cook. It is then
moved from the pan and put into a squeex-
er of some sort, treating it then as you
would a lemon when extracting the juice.
The blood thos fixed is salted and drunk
clear, or on bread if one wishes. Two
tablespoonfals of this blood might be taken
twice a day.
Underdone mutton, lamb, roast beef and
steak should be eaten freely.
Claret, even the inexpensive domestio
brands, is fall of iron and so is highly
beneficial in blood making. Is may be
taken with lancheon sud dinner.
Raw eggs are blood makers and may be
taken in any way one wishes. The sim-
plest method of getting them down is to
take a shallow wine glass, pus in a drop of
clear lemon juice oy then break the
in this, taking care not to injure the hy
Over this put about four drops of lemon,
scattered, to make the egy go down easily
with ove swallow. This is readily acoom-
plished if the head is held back and the
contents of the glass tossed into the back
of the mouth. Eight eggs a day are none
too much when one is trying to recuperate.
Better than anything I bave told yon of
ie fresh heef blood. This may be secured
from a slaughter house. Two or three cup-
fuls should be taken every day.
Few persons are willing to do this, how-
ever,
Certain green vegetables have properties
tbat are valuable. For instance, spinach,
squash, string beans, onions, cauliflower,
egg plant and others having no starch and
little or no sugar will suit a blood making
regimen.
The occupation you are taking up is one
of the most healthful, and by selecting the
diet given I think you will find shat
the strength will come to you. *
Do You Koow.—That our finest white
bread contains little else but starch, so
does not deserve the name of “‘staff of life.’’
That flour of good quality clings to the
band, and when pressed lightly remaios in
shape ; it ia of a cream tint.
at a warm cuphoard and damp pantry
fhe squaily bad places in which to keep
That a large earthenware orock with a
lid is best for that purpose.
That bread loses one-sixth of its weight
in the baking.
That if bread is covered when bot the
ernst will not be crisp.
A woman whose trade is to keep the
woman of social affairs bright and fresh for
her evening fonctions has a rigid ses of
tules which she requires her patrons to
follow. ‘ .
“I require my patrons to take a warm
bath at night, after coming home,” she
says, ‘‘and to drink a cap of cool but not
iced water. That will insure sound re y
and we all know that a good night's sleep
is necessary to bright eyes.
“I have a special hath prescription for
the woman who comes home at4 p. m.,
tired to death with dancing and all dazed
with the lights. It is a clover and laven-
der bath.”
‘‘A little bag containing a bandfnl of
dried clover tops and lavander flowers is
thrown into the tub and the hot water is
turned on. As the water cools the scent
of the lavander and clover comes out and
the bath becomes medicated and perfumed.
It ie a sare cure for insomnia.
Lemon and Fish.—Lemon juice will
bring out the flavor of fish better than any-
thing else can.
The new hat has a high, high crown and
a narrow brim.
Thie brim is drooping, perkey, straight,
Marcelled—anything.
The crown suggests the hat of a bigh-
way man of 1820.
It is known officially as a ‘‘jampot.”’
It is very ohio, provided you look well
in is,
But not one woman in a hundred does.
One of the new effects on straw hats is a
pongee covering. |
For example, the brim may be straw, the
the crown of tightly drawn pougee and
vice versa.
Poogee covered buckles and pongee
scarfs are also introduced.
They way be trimmed otherwise with
feathers, wings or flowers.
If a mass of aigreste, lyre or rare feather
is used the “‘jampot’’ can be made to cost
a hundred or so.
The newest and most becoming sieeve of
the present season ie that set in deep tucks
from shoulder to wries, or from Ider
to just below the elbow. These tuoks are
quite wide at the shoulder—twoand a
half or thiee inches—but they graduate
slightly as they go down the arm. Io fine
cream or corn lace sleeves of this kind are
exceedingly effective when worn under a
little pinafore, sleeveless, bodice of black
crepe de chine, or other soft material.
Naturally the sleeves would have to be
attached to a lace guimpe, but the latter
should be left plain ; t is to say, not
tuoked, and inset with motifs of handsome
lace.
It ie necessary that these tucked sleeves
which are of the novelties of she season,
should be made of thin material,
otherwise they will the arm look
bi In Spokied net, mounted on a
tight lining chiffon, they are entirely
, and when made three-quarter
length they should be finished off with a
coff to matoh the lace with which the
goimpe is inset.
Conversation Party.—Unless a hostess
falls back on dancing or cards she is often
at her wits’ end to know just what to do
to amnse her guests, especially if the ma-
Jority. of them a8 HAE TE 49 one. auother.
inking i Bhonsle
ence seems on
re and the feat of * the
ioe"’ ies indeed a most difficult thing.
oy Case