Bowral fati
Bellefonte, Pa., June 26. 1908.
HUMAN NATURE.
If all that hate would love us and all our loves
were true,
The stars that swing above us would brighten in
the blue;
If cruel words were kisses and every scowl a
smile,
A better world than this is, would hardly be worth
while,
If purses would untighten to meet a brother's
need,
The load we bear would lighten above the grave
of greed.
If those who whine would whistle and those who
languish, laugh,
The rose would rout the thistle, the grain outrun
the chaff,
If hearts were only jolly, if grieving were for-
got,
And tears and melancholy were things that now
are Dot
Then Love would kneel to duty and all the world
would seem
A bridal bower of beauty, a dream within a
dream,
w= Unidentified.
MOTHERHOOD.
It is now ten years since the five oil drill.
ers left Pennsylvania for Mbaog Island, on
the Burman cone, and little Shweyma (she
gold maid) is eight Jeare old bappy,
which shows that she was born under a
lucky star.
Old George wae not really a driller, for
be was a refioer, skilled in the uses of
sulphuric acid and bleaching sodas, and his
part of the toil was to turn the black pe-
trolenm into water-white kerosene when
the drillers bad woo it from the shale
dephia of Mhaog Island.
t was September when the little pars
of white men landed from a steam laanoc!
on Mbang. The long rainy season bad
ceased, and ite fastening moisture had
clothed the giaunttel trees, and the pin-
gadoes,and the banyans, and the uds
notil they stood a wall of green verdure
that was the jungle.
Burmese workmen bad built a» loag
bungalow on the sandy beach of Beogal
Ba The bungalow stood on high posts,
and the incoming tide lapped at the wooden
leas of the structare, and beat against she
low wall of rocks that held the land side
of the bamboo house. The vegetations
breath of Mbaog carried the deadly
of jungle lever, and the Burra Sahib, who
was an Arglo-Indian, bad conceived an
idea that the waters of the ocean would
keep this evil from the dwellers in the
house above the brine swept sands.
There were no other Europeans on the
island, and the five men toiled through the
daye of fierce heat and sat in big Hindoo
chairs on the broad veranda at night. In
Diam, or stripped to thin ootton-ganze
nisps, they sat acd smoked strong Bur-
mese cheroots, and looked out across the
mounlis ocean toward the land that held
their wives and their mothers, and talked
of the beyond; of the time that had gone,
with ite slight recoupense, and of the time
that was to come with its rich reward ; of
the land that lay golden-hued ander the
sun that bad sunk behind the arched back
of the ocean, a huge blistering ball of fire.
Always of the beyond they spoke; of time
to come, or of space in which was not the
accursed island of desolation, Mhang. But
to the endeavor of toil they stuck steadfast;
for three years they had come to labor for
their masters, and they were men—men
phosen because of their keeping of faith,
chosen from mwaong many.
The fever stole like a soft-padded panther
—a8 silently down out of the jungle, and
bit at their blood —it hurued it to acid ; the
everlasting sameness of the food cloyed
their desire sill it was but an automatic
replenishing of streugth. Sometimes let-
ters came to them,and sometimes for weeks
there was udthing but toil and the heat
and the warfare of quinine against malaria,
and the hours of waiting for oblivion in
sleep on the veranda, heneath which the
wash of the Indian Ocean sonnded like the
weeping of past centuries.
One day a dozen ironwood posts stood
Sromily had led together a hundred yards
rom the hig bungalow. In a week a roof,
thatched by the sword like leaves of the
toddy palm, topped the ironwood poate;
then a split bamboo wall hid them, and it
was a hungalow —a tov house for animate
dolls. The next day the end room in the
bungalow on the sande wae empty, and
Sowmere ate his curry and rice in the toy
house
“1 knowed as how it was comin’,”’ old
George said to Billy. *‘I've been a watch.
in’ thas peg fly long ernough. Dave Som-
mers 'e’s took ap wi’ a ’eathen. My
word ! I knows the little yeller pagan—
Yetso they calls ’er. She's from the vil-
a over the "ill."
Id George had been born at Spitalfields
in England, and across seas to America, and
care ol ie tats 2
e language of the toilers elde,
aud would be buried in it, please God, he
said. He was tall and gaunt and massive;
hie binge feet and bands and head bad sug-
gested to the natives a desoriptive name of
anim ble applicability. and he bad
shouldered it with large good hamor, ‘The
Hathi Sahib” —the Elepbant Sahib—he
was to them.
The four that still eat on the veranda
drew their obaire oloser in the moonlight
after the going of Sommers. It was as if
the jungle bad orept down nearer to the
bungalow, and the sensuous Burmese night
air weighed heavier on their hearts.
Then the native workmen who had built
the doll’s house for Sommers brought more
ironwood posts from the jungle and roofed
them. And when the last bamboo mat
bad been laid on the floor, Stanton’s ser-
vant carried his eabib’s trunk and his bed
the three silent men. At last Billy
from his room and
on poete, like a bird's cage, and with him
lived Syngee, who was the daughter of the
village myook.
“Gawd ! Billy, I can’t eat,” Old George
said, shoving the curry from bim with
beavy band; “‘it’s orful ! The jungle reeks
wi’ the fever—the sea stinks of it. Come
out an’ let's smoke, boy. If me ol’ oman
an’ the kide was ’ere—no, it's a Gawd’s
blessin’ they ain’s. "Tain’s fis for no white
man—it's a nigger land, an’ just fis for the
black ope. If I was as big a fool as I've
seen in my time, I'd lush into the drink
tonighs, Billy. Bat there's tomorrer to be
thoughts on, an’ even the ’eathen ’ere
knows better’t to take to the drink.”
In the morning the Hathi Sabib was
hroken. Some evil night spirit of the
jungle bad poured bot sand in bis joints ;
fever had melted the fine temper of his
sinews until they were flabby and of no
avail. A eanllen fire burned in the massive
citadel of his mind; erratically his thought
traversed many pathe, always at a tangent.
“They’re a-’ammerin’ my neck, Billy—
‘ere at the back of me ’ead,’”’ he cried
Deportes
nighe, og from ung .
devils; ’it ‘em, boy—'it 'em wi’ a club an
drive 'em ous.”
For hours Billy kept wet, cool cloths on
the long, gaunt neck, and piled all the
blankets in the bungalow on top of the
Hathi Sahib, aud when the perspiration
stood ous on the broad forehead, and washed
it white from the red fever stain, the sick
man’s eyelide drooped heavily, the ng
breath slid into a longer cadence, and sleep
bushed the tongue that bad babbled inoes-
santly for hours of the ‘‘ol' 'oman at ‘ome
io Titusville, and the hig glass pitcher that
stood on his dioner table filled alter-
nately ».:h iced lemonade, and cool lager,
and sweet milk, aod epriog water—and not
. Por is votk Billy Bo h le i
or & wee t the jungle im
that bomed in oak ie grb] ge, on
then the Elephant Sahib stood up on weak,
groggy legs, and cursed the nigger country,
and the imbeoility tbat bad broughs him to
it, and prayed for to go baok to his
work, for she bungalow was purgatory.
Day iv and day out the sun scorched the
island from a flats blue sky with never a
cloud; the leaves died and fell from the
bleached trees, till they stood white, ghost.
like skeletons risen fiom a forest graveyard ;
the grass browned, burned to brittleness,
and broke away from the roots. Of living
things all but those of toil and torment
seemed to have fled before the anger of the
sun. The humans, toiling, woke at day-
break with the rasping treble of the tree-
locusts in their ears, and until the gray
skirte of evening blurred she fierce shim-
mer of the glassed sea, the undraped jingle
rang with a sibilant note. Sometimes a die-
cordant-voiced bornbill, screeching petu.
lantly, fluffed on weak, insufficient wing,
from the hare limbs of a padouk tree to the
arme of a peepul. Even the snakes had
burrowed io the earth.
In June the southwest monecons drove
weeping clouds up out of the west; the
1ains came, and the dry earth dravk to sa-
tiety, and when ite thiret was quenched the
vomited waters tore down in torrents (rom
between the hills, and where the yellow
stubble had needled rice fields was now a
myriad of little equaie lakes.
These things rounded out one year, and
there were yet two written in the contracts
of the five men.
Loug dreary evenings the two, Billy and
George, who were antitheses in age and
scheme of physical architecture, and tui-
tion, and temperament, sat on the veranda,
and related verbal dreams that were imag-
ived out of the future; the past seemed so
far away tbat it was like something dead,
and the ogi e-headed present was a totem to
drape out of its ugliness with the purple
and fine linen of a fusarity in God’s own
country —the land that lay beyond the mil-
lion-etarred night curtain that balked their
eyes as they sat with their faces forever to
the weat.
Sometimes the moonlight turned to sil-
ver the waters that broke %ver the long,
low-lying coral reef, and the hoy, Billy,
would ory out in ecstasy that 1t was beaati-
ful, and Old George would answer:
‘‘Gawd’s truth, Billy ! there ain’s nothink
beautiful an’ good in this blarsted ’eathen
land. The poison of it has got into me eyes
an’ I don’t see nothink bus bellery—rank,
bloomin’ sin.”
One day a rope broke and the merciless
iron pulley crushed two fingers of Billy's
band, and when the steam launch came,
thiee days later, he was taken to Phrang
where was a civil surgeon. Billy was gone
a month, and when he came back to the is-
land a new solemnity bad thrown ite shad-
ow over the Hathi Sahib.
As the two tramped side hy side up from
the little lauding, Billy asked : **What'e
that new buogalow--has another sahib come
to ae?"
‘f expect as ow some blarsted fool built
it,”’ Old George replied, and shen he spoke
othe injured band that still rested in a
sling.
a to dinner time the hig man aud the
little man sat in the old seats on the veran-
da; and George, olearing bin throat, said :
“Billy, I don’t know 'ow yoa'll make ont
eatin’ alone.”
“Why-—are you sick, George—won's you
have dinner with me?’
“Billy —'ere, give us yer’ ‘acd while I
tells yer romethink. [t's worritin’ me—
yer comin’ back 'as worrit me orfal, But
ou wuatn’s think "ard of Old George, Bil-
y. Gawd, lad, I got that lonesome a-sithin’
‘ere fightin’ ekeeters, an’ smokin’, smokin’
—I got to 'earin’ voices, Billy, Ouve night
I 'ears some ove callin’ oat on the reef. I
gets a dugout, an’ paddles out to em ‘ere
breakers; an’ there was nothink, I'd lieon
my hed there tossin’ about an’ I'd ’ear
bloomin’ voices talkin’ under the bunga-
low; 4 yo dows, habia fie: Bub it was
nothin n. I tells yer, ,» I was go-
in’ off me ’ead. All ‘ammerin’ there
in the sun, drivin’ the lazy soors of Bur-
mans, an’ then sit ’ere all alone for hours
waitin’ to get leaps, an’ all the time wider
awake nor ever, I could ‘a, read some-
think; but I never got no chanst of schoolin’
at ome. It was all right when you was
‘ere, Billy—wos wi’ she readin’ you did,
an’ me a-listenin’, an’ wos wi’ yer monkey
trioks; but I was alone wi’ the bloomin’
thinkin’ sill my ‘ead got queer.’
“That's your bungalow, the new one, is
it, George?’ Billy asked, when the big
gaunt sahib launched into silence.
“I's a blarsted fool’s 'ouse, Billy. Gawd!
I wishs I was ‘ome. What'll my ol’ 'oman
say? Why, ain’s is right fer a man to slit
'is own throat when 'e’s woree’n hein’ no
comes
caws
a-sayin’: ‘You ol’ fool ol’ swine.
Leastwise I'ears em that Vay, Billy. An’
Nimbah, she’s ol i 's & memsa-
Hl a en wr of emia
8 up, an
a ee the new honor ae is come to the
fambly. Wi’ 'em it's a ; Nimbah's
'eathen it seems all right—il s man
one wife er #ix, don’t make no differ-
ence, But wot about me, as olaimes to be a
Christian? An’ wos about the ol’ oman at
‘ome? When the jungle fever keels me
over again, Billy, you just les is
I ain’s 6s so live, I ain’s.”
At the end of the two years a little dangh-
ter came to Nimhah and Old Sennge;
then-~bus bow can one describe
:
i
i
:
Shongin that
little Sbweyma would bind she white man
was wakened hy a key turning ios
The door opeved ; bis wife came
Sbe kissed him on the massive fore.
so’ thought,
an’ worrit over wot you've done, 'usbhand,
an’ I've prayed, too. An’ I don’t know
wots come over me, but I ain’t asgry no
more. When you was out in that ’eatben
land I just used to ask God to send you
back alive, an’ I didn’s care for money nor
pothink, just as long as you'd come your-
sell. An’ I'm glad you told me, George,
'eanse there ain’t never been nothink 'id
between us all our lives. Bat we can’s
pever be ’
wot’s your child, George, an’ of the same
{ blood —part though it be—as oar children,
lives there an’ up a 'eathen. You've
got to send for she listle thing, George, an’
bring 'er "ome ’ere. I conldn’: stand to
think of one of 'em ’eathen mothers bring-
in’ up a child a= wae of the same blood of
my children. You've got to send for little
Seweyma, George, an’ I'll he ’er mother,
an’ won's never speak of that ’eathen
country again as loug as we live.”
to ber. It was pleasant to have the nice | The man reached down and kissed the
bungalow, and food without stint, and the
rolled goldleaf earrings that bad been part |
Je toaloliivy of eternity, and the men who
thirsted in their souls for the western
rim of the sea that laved the shores of
Mbaog Island still toiled on at the win-
ning of the oil that now held the allure. | Prospect
ment of discovery.
A white painted pillar of teakwood bigh
up on the hill stood sentinel, throwing a
black shadow across a deep grave wherein
rested Sommers. And over bis going from
the islana of desolation to the land of con-
jecture hung a shadow blacker, more im-
penetrable, than the sun-obliterated trans.
verse of the teakwood monument. It was
whispered in the Madrassi coolie lines that
the sahib had been given datura by Yetso,
because he had talked of going to the land
of his own people, and thas now he came in
spirits and talked with Yetso, and sat with
her, and would so long as she lived. Bat
Old George and the others said the san and
the poisoned breath of the jungle bad killed
Sommers. .
For two years more George the Refiner
waited with his huge iron still for the green
black flood of oil that he was to cleanse
water-white. Then Fate drew aside the cur-
tin and she Burra Sahih read failure in large
letters on the wall. The juogle laughed
when the sabibs went down for the last
time over the pink ribbon of road they had
ous into its heart, and the elephant keeper
thrust a long strong arm across the path as
their heels. The steam launch bore the
beaten toilers back to Phrang, and the ie-
and was left to the growers of rice and
plantains, even as is had been before the
coming of the sabibs.
Old George lefs with the Deputy Com-
missioner in Phrang sufficient rupees to
feed and cloth Nimbah until she married
again (which surely woald not be long)
aod for listle Shweyma until she came of
age. Is was not a large enm, for rice is
cheap and the clothing of great simplioi-
ty.
Y Then he and Billy and the others jour-
neyed ak to Atierie and reclamation
from their paganish lapse.
At the door of Titusville George said to
Billy: “You come 'ome wi’ me, lad, for
it’s got to be all told; shere ain't nothiok
pever been 'id 'twixt me an’ my o' 'om-
an.”
“I can’s do it, George,” Billy avswered;
‘‘a man aud his wile can settle such mat-
ters better between themselves.””
‘‘You come 'ome with me, lad,” George
reiterated, resting a huge hand on the oth-
et’s shoulder; ‘‘come an’ testerly as 'ow I
forgot I was a Christian, an’ tell my ol’
‘oman of the Gawd forsaken lonesomeness
of thas ’eathen ole. You've "ad book larn.
in’, Billy, and you can word it. I can see
it wi’ me eyes shat, but I can’t tell it as
it’s writ in books. You come wi’ me, lad.
The ol’ 'oman’ll ave a Jeg o' mutton for
dinner—she knows wot George likes—an’
I’ve been an’ sent ’er a telegram as ‘ow I
was a-comin’. An’ when the youngsters is
put to bed we'll tell the wife about sittin’
there on the veranda night in an’ night out
a-listenin® to the ory of em waves agin the
coral reel, an’ the pie fever 'ammerin’
at the back of our ’eads until we was pugla
(toolish."")
So Billy, dreading the dramatic, fearing
the anger of a woman hetrayed, crept at
the side of the giant to the little cottage
that waited, draped in expectancy, for the
home coming of its lord and master. And,
leaning on the slighter man's mentality,
she huge sinner walked with leaden fees.
“Why do you not pus it off for a little
time?’ Billy asked.
The big man shook hie massive head.
“‘Gawd’s truth, I counldn’s do thas, Billy;
it’d be worse than sittin’ there a-watohin
the empty waters a-bringin’ nothink but
themselves to the shore. I counldn’s stand
it—I'd drink; there's never been nothink
%id, I tells you, lad—I'd talk in my sleep—
1'd forget an’ call one of the kids Shweyma.
It "as got to be did, an’ 'ave it hover with.
My ol’ oman she'll look on that 'ere pagan
life just ae [ did when I wens there fust;
but when she ’ears you tell on it, Billy,
some’at ahout 'ow the others went on, an’
'ow it ain't agin the Burman law to ‘ave J
more’n ove wile, it'll ’elp. An’ when you
goes away to-night I'll sell "er the rath,
an’ I'll feel better. Gawd don’t stand fer
a deceitful man nohow, Billy; it’s the
worstest kind of a sin."
With a shiver in his heart Billy sat in
his friend’s cottage home thas night, and
looked out of eyes of apprehension upon a
soene that was like something out of a
Christmas story by Dickens.
For an hour, with strong of
color, Billy painted the dead life of that
island of solitude; the setlanting , lap,
lap of the Indian Ocean against the
bw, where Old George had lived
the eyes of the red-oheeked
into the night.
When children bad to their
a a res be
saying over over,
a ohild of slow wit : *‘I coulda’ ’elp it,
.wife; Gawd’s truth, I was that lonesome
I was ! orazy. I'd sit there on that
an’ the servant 'd come sayin’ as
‘ow I'd called ’im, as ‘ow I'd told 'im to
put more sulphuric in the oil. You see,
wife, T was refinin’ in my mind. I was
they | sin’ loony. It I'd ad a cat or anythink
a8 was alive to talk to, bat I 'adn’s.”
The woman without a
turned away from her husband. | went
inewibes iowa rats and logit tie Gout.
dining-room ill midn
knooked on the looked door and called :
“Wife! for Gawd’s sake, come out an’
speak to me I”
the looked
But there was no anewer ;
At midnight he threw bimeelf upon a
door, and beyond —silence.
. ofa and slept fitfully till morning.
t-bearted woman op the eyes, and ran
gaunt band over her hrown hair with
the gentle caress of a lover.—~By W. A.
into the incom. | Fraser, in Collier's.
Weed Pulp from Saw Dast.
A puolpmill with every sawmill is the
from a new idea that is being
worked out in Canada. A company with
$1,000,000 capital hae been incorporated
for operations near Vancouver, British Co-
lumbia, and the work of building a plant
has begun. The company already has a
small mill that is rf to he making
pulp for . and the method is to be
merely applied on a larger scale, to nse up
some 3,000 tons of sawdust that is made in
that vicinity each month. The company
is building its plant where there is plenty
of water power and water to nse for cleans-
ing the pulp. The process is somewhat
different for making palp from sawdust,
and there is more to do than is required to
make paper of spruce selected for the pur-
pose, bus the work can be done cheaper
where there is plenty of water and power.
It makes little difference what kind of tim-
ber the dust is from, and thas suggests the
possibility of making paper out of anything
which bas a fiber or can be made to pro-
duce a fiber hy chemical process. As the
large lumber companies are now baroing
their sawdust at more expense than it is
worth for fuel, the making of paper from
it promises an economy that should be of
interest all over the world. The Vancouver
company bas laid plans to sell its paper,
made from the sawdust palp, in the United
States and Australia, which gives an im-
Previn that it is to make a great deal.
e prospectus olaims that it will make
360 tons of paper a week, 200 tons of is be-
ing for newspaper print and 160 tons ma-
pila or wavpiie paper.
Millions of tons of sawdust are practical.
3 wasted in the United States annually,
ough it is tarned into commercial prod-
ucts now munch more than in the past.
There are various by-products to look after,
a8 the different kinds of wood make combi-
nations, and a sweet substance will be one
of them. The prospects are that pa-
per for news print will be made within the
year of other materials than the fresh spruce
and other evergreen trees of the forest. The
flax straw that has been burned for years is
good for that pu , 88 is also the waste
from other materials, and the fibers of the
tropics are being experimented upon for the
same purpose. But sawdust has evidently
made a strong stars for the leading place in
this important economy. Congress may
yet be asked to adjust a tariff duty on saw-
dust to protect a new American industry
against Cavadian hustle.
Titled Workers.
Many princess and other ladies of the
royal houses of Europe would be capable of
earning good incomes as skilled workers
were they suddenly deprived of their titles,
rack and accompanying possessions. Prin:
cess Hermine of Renss, for example, a sis-
ter of the reigning Prince Henry XXIV,
is a skilled watchmaker who has frequens-
ly shown her work at various German ex-
hibitions. Princess Arnulf of Bavaria, when
still Princess Therese of Liechtenstein, was
one of the stanchest patrons of charis,
bazaars in Vienna. The beautiful lace
which she then made is still often seen in
the Austrian capital, and the Kaiserin’s
favorite collar, a birthday present from
Prinvess Arnulf, is a beautiful piece of
work, which took the royal lacemaker,
three and a balf years to complete.
The Arobdnchess Fried of Austria,
who wae born Princess Isabelle of Croy,
has a remarkable hobby—the making of
beautifully scented wax candl which
she moulds and prepares with her own
fingers. Quite a storm ina teacup wae
recently raised in Austrian court circles by
the Princess characterizing as ‘‘preposter-
ous extravagance’’ a time-honored custom
observed in all Austrian palaces, that a
candle which has been once extinguished
may nos, under any circumstances, be re-
lighted. As the Arohduchess Friedrich is
greatly admired by the Emperor Fravois
, her pronouncement on the subject
of this extravagance in candles resulted in
an order going forth that the ocustom—at
all events where the handiwork of the
Arohduchess was concerned—should be
forthwith abandoned.
The Duchess of Guise (who was Princess
Isabel of Bourbon Orleans) is a skilful
milliner and maker of 1 flowers.
The Duchess, who is considered one of the
best dressed women in Europe, invariably
has ber dresses trimmed with her own
bandiwork. Princess Carl of Sweden, a
daoghter of King Frederick VIIL of Den-
mark, bas since her early days been an
extremely olever maker of children’s toys.
In the Swedish capital Princess Inge 's
pame is synonymous in this conn
with skilled workmanship. Finally, the
Duchess Philip of Wartem who is one
of the most lar gen
many’s ou Indies, bas she curious bobby
pany.—
The robbing of hives by foreign bees
serious matter. Il a
gIEEEice
Ho
alr
fos
hi
if that Jistle one, Shweyma, |.
WHEN 1 HAVE
When | have time, so many things I'll do
To make life happier and more fair
For those whose lives are crowded now
with care ;
I'll help to lift them from their low despair,
When I have time.
When I have iime, the friend I love so well
Shall know no more the many tolling days ;
III lead her feet in pleasant paths always,
And cheer her heart with words of sweetest
praise,
When I have time,
TIME.
When you have time, the friend you hold so
dear
May be beyond the reach of all your sweet
intent ;
Msy vever know that you so kindly mean
To fill her life with sweet content,
When you have time.
Now isthe time. Ah, friend, no longer wait
To scatter loving smiles and words of cheer
To those around whose lives are now so
drear;
They may not meet you in the coming
year.
Now i« the time,
Symbolism of Creation,
After our brief consideration of the Gar-
den of Eden, vou exacted the ise that
I should briefly explain the spiritual mean-
ing of the days of creation, as told in Gene-
sis, and if you are still of the same desire I
shall now fulfill my pledge.
Thus prelaciog hie introduction to the
subject, Herr 8. continued :
**Fruitfal as the discoveries of astronomy
are, in soggestions calonlated to awaken
adoration, gratitude and humility, we can-
nos conceal from ourselves thas they take
us to countemplations of spaces and dis-
tances, quite inconsistent with the age of
the universe, as drawn from the literal ao-
count in Genesis. Astronomy teaches ue
that many of the heavenly bodies are so
distant that it would require bundreds of
thousands of yeare for light to come from
them to us. The light from these distant
spheres has indeed reached us, else we
could not see them, and because of this
Shey mast have existed for so long a time,
therefore did nos begin to exist on the
fourth day of a week some 6,000 years ago.
This is the first fact, my son, I desire you
not to forget.
“‘Geology, also has been found to teach
lessons widening our conce| of the
Creator's grandear. Bat with this sister
science we are equally anable to be recon.
oiled with the first chapter of Genesis, con-
sidered as an exact divine account of natu-
ral creation. :
“‘Geology, my son, shows that the crust
of the earth for several miles, has been the
accumulation of plan and animals, which
have lived sud died, and left their remains,
as a proof of their existence, in ages long
gone by. Beds of rocks lie one over anoth-
er, with immense masses of shells, which
show the ocean lay long there; then with
remains of plants indicating dry land and
periods of coutinued growth; again come
masses of sea remains avd these followed
by immense layers of land growth; and
thus in succession to such a number and
amount, that the time to form them ocan-
not bave been less than millions of years.
‘““And, wy son, do you not see that dar-
ing all these periods the sun must have ex-
isted, as without its heat the water would
have been all ice, and fish could neither
move, nor live in it? Plants could not
grow without heas, nor lighs, nor air, and,
therefore, the same general laws of vature
which prevail now, must have prevailed
then, daring the enormous peri hetore
any traces of man announce that he bad
been created.
‘‘Even though I cannot consider tonight
this sublime theme as it deserves, permit
me, my son, to speak of that long live of
animal races whioh bave left remains and
whioh kave heen restored pars to part and
from complete skeleton frames, with eyes
sod every portion of the animal constitu.
tion, indicating thas light existed, and in
face, that all these wise arrangements,
which infinite goodness and unerring wie-
dom sustain now for human happiness,
were sustained then—in those far-off ages,
when the earth was being prepared by a
loving and all wise Provider, for she resi-
dence, after millions of years, of beings in
Y | the full image of Himself, with all the re.
quirements of civilized lite. These prepara.
tions, in the remote ages of the world’s
youth, of these incaloulable forests, which
afterward became our coal fields, of those
accumulated remains of shells, which afser-
ward formed our mountains of limestone,
marble and chalk, in all their varieties—
these all speak of laws producing then, as
now, beneficent results, of wisdom framing
and directing the laws of love, from which
such wisdom flowed. Is this, then, not all
irreconcilable with Genesis in its ordinary
interpretation ?
“My son, tue reasor why the divine
narrative in Genesis is not a ly ao-
curate desoription of natural creation is,
that it wae never intended to be so uuder-
stood. It is written in the divine style,
and is a description of a spiritual creation,
as it took place in the earliest ages of man’s
existence. This divine style is peculiar to
the word of God and underlies it every-
where. As [ have reminded you before,
the outer universe is a grand symbol of an
inner universe in the minds of men. Each
mind is a heaven and earth in miniature.
The development of the principles which
oonduoce to the perfection of the soul is sh
actly portrayed by the creation of a world.
Creation is the symbol of regeneration.
When the restoration of a heavenly state is
the subjeot of prophecy, it is spoken of as
the formation of a new universe. Such is
the divine style ; she outer world is the
of the inner one. The ruin of a
arch, or of a soul, is represented by the
wreok of a a, i restoration of io
telligenoce, order, teousnees, purity an
peace are symbolized by a new creation.”
ad A. WARREN, in the Pittsburg
New Treatment of Consumption.
‘Are women fond of jokes, I won.
der.”
““They must be.”
- “Why ”
“Just look at the sort of man some of
them marry."
—Son—"Fasher, what fs the rest of
the quotation ‘Man and—'"
Father (sadly )—"Woman seldom re-
fuses.’
Race of Great Violin Makers,
tis oo ce oy ed within
com a bho y years.
They ope their woods from a few great
timbers felled in she South Tyrol, and
floated down in rafts, pine aud maple, syo-
amore, pear and ash. They examined
these to find wreaks and veine and freckles,
valuable superficially when out by
varnishing. They learned to tell she den-
sity of the pieces of wood by touching them;
they weighed them; they struck, and
listened to judge how fast, or how slow, or
bow resovantly they would vibrate in
answer 10 strings.
Some portions of the wood must he por-
ous and soft, some of close fiber. Juss the
right beam was bard to find. When it was
found, it can be traced all through the vio-
line of some great master, and after his
death in those of bis pupils.
The piece of wood was taken home and
seasoned, dried in the hot Brescia and
Cremona sun. The house of Stradiva-
rine, the great master of all, is described as
baving been as hot as an oven. One was
soaked through and through with sunshine.
In thie great bess the oils thinned and sim-
mered slowly, and penetrated far into the
wood, until! the varnishes became a part of
the wood iwelf.
The old violin makers were acoustomed
to ave every bit of the wood when they
bad found what they liked, to mend and
patch and inlay wish is. So vibrant and
#0 resonant is the wood of good old violins
that they murmur and echo avd sing in an-
swer to any sound when a number of them
hang together on the wall, just as if they
were rehearsing the old music that onoe
they knew.
It was doubtless owing to this fact that
when the le could not account for Pa-
ganini’s wonderful playing, they declared
that be bad a human soul imprisoned in hie
violin: for his violin sang and whispered
ever when the strings were off.
There bave been experiments made with
all sorts of woode by the varions makers.
An Earl of Pembroke had one made of the
wood of the cedars of Lebanon, but the
wond was so dense that vibration was
deadened and the violin was a poor one.
The Demand for Trained Men.
The demand for efficient men trained at
our best agricultural colleges exceeds the
supply. Organizations of breeders, dairy-
men, frait growers and others in many of
our States solicit special investigation to be
andertaken by station scientists. There is
public demand for official tests of foods,
animal feeding stoffs and commercial fer-
tilizers. There is continuoal increase in the
number of high schools shat give instroo-
tion 1 agriculture and which necesearily
find need of agricultural scientists as capa-
ble teachers. There are also many farms
employing Sgticuivamal college graduates
as superin ents,
The salaries paid to such men exceed
those paid to scientists of similar rank in
other lines, because there are not enough
men to do the work. Our agricultural
colleges canuot compete in the matter of
salary with commercial concerns that need
men trained in agriculture. An illustra:
tion is found in the instance of our i
cultural college in Penneylvania. Within
the last year or two one member of the
faculsy of this school of agriculture has
withdrawn to accept a position with a com-
mercial concern producing high grade
milk, and he is now getting five thousand
dollars a year. A scientist in the Depart-
ment of Animal Husbandry has been se-
cared by China at a salary three times as
great as the Pennsylvania School of Agri-
culture was ahle to pay him. He leaves
for Mukden, Manchuria, the last of June
to assist in establishing an experiment
station there. Another member of the
agricultural faculty, Prof. John W. Gil-
more, has heen chosen President of the
College of Hawaii at Houoluln, and the
salary paid him will he nearly douhle that
weich be has heen receiving at State Col-
lege. Another young man in this faculty
left to become a farm manager at $1600 a
year.
At middle life a man should he at his
beat physically avd mentally. He would
if he followed ‘‘houest nature's rule’ and
lived a more even life, Middle life sees
the average man prematurely old. He is
gray or bald, his face wrinkled, his eyes
blarred, his hands tremulous. He bas
overdrawn his account with Nature and
she is staving off the total hankruptoy of
the body as long as she can. How long
she can do this depends upon the man
himself. He can aid Nature greatly. The
best aid to Nature is the use of Dr. Pierce's
Golden Medical Discovery. It supplies
the material by which the physicial defi-
ciencies can be made good. It increases
she quantity of the blood avd purifies it.
The use of the ‘‘Discovery’” with proper
attention to general hygine will insure a
sturdy old age.
——He pocketed the bard boiled egg
gratefally.
“Ah, madam,” be eaid, ‘‘believe me, I
would not be begging my bread from door
to door if it were possible for me to jravgse
work io my chosen calling. Bat the day
will come—""
“Poor fellow,” said the woman, ‘‘what
is your calling, anyhow ?"’
“I,” he answered, proudly, ‘am an
able-bodied aeroplane sailor.”
——Mother (in a very low voice)—
“Tommy, your grandfather is very sick.
Can’t you say something nice to cheer him
up a his ?"’
Tommy (in an earnest voice) —'‘Grand-
father, wouldn't you like to bave soldiers
at your funeral ?"’
——“The poor old miser has passed
away. He hated to go.”
**Was be afraid to die ?"’
“Nos that eo much, bus he did bate to
pay the debt of nature.”
ans isa wan of high ideals."
“I shought so.
“Did you, indeed ? Why ?"
“I noticed that he did not appear to
have mach money."
pti ei told to cast our bread upon
waters, a young wife.
‘Bat don’s you do is,” replied her bue-
band. ‘‘A vessel might run against it and
get wrecked.”
——Knicker—A man olsims to bave a
formula for making diamonds.
OT That's nothing. Can he make
a pitcher?
‘He's engaged to a widow.”
“‘How did he meet her?”
“He didn’t meet her; .she overtook
him.”
—When the bair on the horse drops out
in patohes wash with tar soap, then appl
a of she dips or disinfectants ns