EE a
on
— es
Bellefonte, Pa., July 3. 1908.
IN THE GARDEN.
“A garden is a heavenly spot,
God made the first I" [ koow itall ;
Yet envy not your red-rose plot,
Clear pool and silver lillies tall,
“And it was in a garden, too,
That God walked softly to and fro,
At sunset—when a cool wind blew-""
1 know, dear child ; I know, I know,
“And in a garden, hushed and love,
In the dim breaking of the day,
An angel sat upon a stone—
A stone which he had rolled away."
Oh, had that angel but been shown
One instant to my human eyes—
Could I but kiss that hallowed stone—
Your garden would be Paradise.
~Vida Briss, in the Sunday Magazine,
RUTH'S HUNT MEHITABLE.
[By Anne Heilman.)
Hetty Peters sat gazing out of her
window across the closely cropped
lawn, past the garden of many hued
roses and away to the woods, all white
with dogwood and purple with violets.
She held a letter in her hand. Not in
many a long year had Hetty's face
worn such an expression of woe.
“If you please, ma'am,” awakened
her from the trance, She turned to
the cook and gave her orders for the
day. Then, with a sigh, she opened
the letter and reread it:
Dear Aunt Mehitable—Papa and Jessie
Miller will be married Tuesday morning
and sail for Europe the same day on an
extended trip. So I shall leave college
and go home to look after you.
The Stirlings are here for the wedding.
You know they are related to Jessie.
Fred looks as ol as his father. They
have made a mint of money mining in
Colorado and intend to buy back their es-
tate and settle down as our nearest
neighbors again. No place like the south,
they declare. Papa invited them to make
our house their home while negotiations
are pending. Business will detain Mr.
Stirling In Boston for a few weeks, but
Fred will come to town with me. Expect
us on Thursday. Your loving RUTH.
“Jessie's a dear soui. 1 hope they'll
be very happy,” Hetty murmured to
herself, “but I never thought John
would marry again. And Ruth coming
back a year before I expected! This'll
never seem like home to me any more.”
Hetty Peters was single. She bad
never had a lover, had never looked
for one and, incredible as it may seem,
had never wished for one. She had
been altogether too busy, first, in look-
ing after a younger sister and brother,
and, second, in caring for her delicate
mother, to consider her matrimonial
prospects. ‘The brother and sister had
grown up, warried aad moved north.
Her mother's death had left her alone.
When her elder bro her's wife died
she had gone to live with him, and for
several years her existence had been
happy if monotonously uneventful
Now came the disquieting news of
John's second marriage and of her
niece's unexpected return.
Ruth had a decided predilectign for
managing everyiling aud everybody
she caine in contact with. Her aunt
had always tresnbied before her. Ruth
was the only vue who remembered her
baptismal name, and Hetty detested it,
but Ruth persisted in calling her Aunt
Mehitable.
“Perhaps she intends to marry
Fred!” Hetty reflected hopefully. “If
she does, of course he'll have to give
in. He was a nice looking boy when he
Jeft. 1 remember I kissed him goodby,
he seemed such a boy, and he is a year
older than I am.”
On Thursday Miss Peters was at the
station when the northern train ar-
rived. Whiie she was watching the
outcoming passengers from one car a
hand touched swiftly her arm, and a
nleasant voice exclaimed, “Hetty, you
have not changed a bit since we part:
ed.”
“I've grown fifteen years older,” she
answered, giving her hand to a tall,
bronzed, handsome man, whose dark
eyes were scrutinizing her admiringly.
“I know it.” he replied. “So have I"—
“Fred, loosen that checkrein. Aunt
Mehitable, how could you drive this
horse in such a eondition? You really
need some one to look after you!”
And Hetty realized, with a pang, that
Ruth had come back to her own.
“No tea for me,” she commanded at
the dinner table. “Aunt Mehitable, I'm
surprised at you! Any doctor will tell
you that tannic acid is a rank poison.
It's positively criminal to use ten or
coffee when one can have fresh milk.”
The next morning Rath's sway be-
gan,
“Just up?’ she called out as Hetty
made her appearance at 7 o'clock.
“I've been up for hours. 1 shall move
the breakfast time an hour earlier, and
you must come for a walk every morn.
ing before breakfast. It will do you a
world of good.” And Aunt Hetty, real-
izing the futility of argument where
Ruth was concerned, miserably acqui-
esced.
“Is it possible you sleep on a feather
bed?’ exclaimed Ruth that evening,
unexpectedly invading her aunt's room.
“Don’t you know that feathers are not
sanitary? You need some one to look
after you, Aunt Mehitable.”
“I'm not so old as that” protested
Hetty.
“It isn't altogether a matter of age;
it's temperament. You take life like a
grasshopper. You really do need some
one. Of course you'll have me until”—
“Until you marry?" Hetty.
“I have been thinking of it,” Ruth
admitted complacently. “By the way,
g
i
5
his father a good hus-
“1 do not remember Fred's gnother.
She died when 1 was very young. But
1 always understood they were very
happy.”
“1 met Mr. Stirling frequently at
Jessie's,” said Ruth. “He came to
Boston on business, If Fred is like his
father I'm sure he'll make a good hus
band. We were talking about yon
this afternoon. He thinks you look
younger than I do, and he thinks, as |
do, that you need some one to take
care of you. He really takes a great
interest in you, Aunt Mehitable.”
“He takes a great interest In you ap-
parently, which is more to the point.”
ejaculated her exasperated aunt. “Do
you mean to pretend that you don't
want Fred to be fond of you?”
“Why, of course,” asserted Ruth as
she rose to leave the room. “Of course
1 hope Fred is going to be fond of me.
I shall have that feather bed taken up
to the garret tomorrow morning, Aunt
Mehitable.”
In the days that followed Hetty
found herself taken in hand and “look-
ed after” with a thoroughness that re-
duced her to the verge of melancholia.
All her actions and movements were
regulated by her energetic niece, who
decided what she should eat, what she
should drink and wherewithal she
should be clothed. .
“Ruth Is so systematic,” said Hetty
loyally when Fred awkwardly attempt-
ed to condole with her. “She has such
executive ability. She's really wonder-
ful."
“She is, indeed,” Fred assented.
“She Is a perfect example of what the
higher education can do for a woman.
But, joking aside, I don’t think she's
an awfully good sort, and I'm fonder
of her than any other girl I know.
This is a very pleasant day. Can't you
come for a row on the river, Hetty?"
“N-no. I have some work that must
be attended to,” she faltered.
“You haven't given me any of your
attention since I've been here,” he
complained. “You're not treating me
right, Hetty.”
“But—Ruth”— Hetty began in sur-
prise.
Fred rose to his feet.
“Hetty,” he said, “I want you to
know something. When I left for the
west, you kissed me goodby. Oh, I
know you felt nothing but friendship
for your old playfellow, and it sounds
gilly to say, but it's true, I've never
kissed another woman. I meant to tell
vou some day, and now that”— He
paused. “I promised not to say any-
thing until Ruth told you, but"—
“I understand,” said Hetty softly.
“Did she tell you?’ he asked.
“Not in so many words, but I think
she meant me to understand. I am so
glad.”
“It began last winter,” said Fred.
“I'm glad too. I think we're all going
to he very happy.”
“Aunt Mehitable,” broke in Ruth's
erisp voice, “here's a telegram from
Mr. Stirling. He will arrive this even-
ing.”
The interruption was welcome to
Hetty. She felt that she could not
have endured another word.
Hetty spent the remainder of the
day In her room.
waved their hands gayly when she
drove off to the station to meet Mr.
Stirling. How well they
gether, she thought. Something in the
sight stirred a strain of sadness in
her. She seemed to realize for the first
time that she had been cheated out of
her girthood,
Absorbed in her sad musings, she
abszentmindadly took a turning which
made her drive longer by half a mile.
When she reached the station Mr.
Stirling had already started for the
Pines,
Hetty drove back slowly. The full
moon arose and the air was sweet
with the scent of roses, but Hetty had
no thoughts for the beauty of the
night.
She threw the reins to the stable
boy and took a short cut for the
house. She was in no mood to join
the family party and intended to go
quietly to her room.
As she pussed the rose garden she
caught sight of Ruth's white dress in
the shrubbery. Ruth's face was up-
turned to her companion, and—yes, he
had taken her in his arms. It was
Ruth's kiss Fred would remember
now,
Hetty sat down on a rustic seat un-
der a live oak. The meaning of it all
swept over her. She was thirty-four,
and there had never been moonlight
or a rose garden for her. She had al-
ways left love out of her plans for
herself, and now it was Fred, Ruth's
Fred, out there in the rose garden,
and she was alone with the emptiness
of thirty-four unlived years—alone and
old. Her eyes filled with scalding
tears, and she sobbed aloud.
“Why, Hetty, what on earth are you
crying about?’
Fred sat down beside her and gath-
ered her in his arms,
“Don’t cry, dearest,” he implored.
“Tell me what the trouble is. Don't
you want dad to have Ruth? Why.
I"
“Your father!” gasped Hetty.
that who she's with?"
“Why, of course,” said Fred. “I told
you all about it.”
Hetty sprang up in astonishment.
“I expected her to marry you,” she
eried.
He laughed softly.
“1 didn't. She knew all along that I
“Is
Fred and Ruth |
| ing jollied!
looked to- |
Do You Remember?
And the other fishing days when you
got up before dawn and stole down-
stairs to the dim kitchen—a drink of
milk, a doughnut and a triangle of pie,
then you stole out quietly to the harn
and got the spading fork; then the
search, armed with fork and tomato
can, under the broad leaves of the rhu-
barb bed, back of the henhouse and
down by the cow barn until you had
enough worms for the day's sport
Then of course you left the fork stick-
ing in the ground—you never would
learn to put things away—and started
off; through the garden and orchard.
stopping long enough for a handful of
currants and a pocketful of sopsavines
—over the pasture bars, eating a hand-
ful of huckleberries or low bush black-
berries here and there; into the wood
road—very dark and still in the dawn
~where you stepped along very quietly
so as not to disturb the bears (you
knew perfectly well there were no
bears, but you rather enjoyed the
creepy sensation); then out through
the deep wet meadow grass to the riv-
er, where the sun was now beginning
to burn away the wisps of mist and
the red winged blackbirds were mak-
ing a tremendous fuss over their house-
keeping. You reached the river bank
at the pout hole or the big rock or the
old willow (of course you know the ex-
act place), and then you started fish-
ing.—Atlantic.
Suction.
People often speak of chimneys
“drawing.” We also speak of the suc-
tion of a pump. There is not so much
harm in these expressions, except that
they are liable to lead us away from
the true state affairs. But in truth
there is no such thing as suction. Suc-
tion is merely partial or entire absence
of pressure in one place which enables
the greater pressure of air or fluid in
another place to rush in. In the case
of the chimney the heated air In it
does not weigh so much as an equal
volume of cold air, and if the air in
the chimney, the air in the room and
the outside air were all the same tem-
perature there would be no tendency
to any motion. But when the air in
the chimney is hot it does not press
downword so much as the colder sur-
rounding air presses upward. Conse-
quently an upward current is started
and will continue if the air in the
chimney is kept hot.—A. 8. 8. Ackerman
in London Express.
Changed the Name.
He had given up town life, with its
cares and dissipation, and was living
in the country.
“What a charming cottage!” exclaim-
ed a dainty lady visitor from London.
“What have you called it?”
“I have called it the Nutshell,” he
told her, and she exclaimed:
“Oh, how delightful!”
After tea and cakes she took the
train back to London, where she re-
mained for six months. Then she “ran
down” to see him again.
“As sweet as ever!” she told him.
“But you have changed the name’
Why is it now Chez Nous?"
“Why? he responded, with some
warmth. “Pecause 1 was tired of be-
Because 1 was tired of
being kidded! There isn’t a boy for a
mile round who hasn't stopped and
—_—
rung the doorbell every time he passed |
to ask if the colone! was in!"—London
Telegraph,
A Surprise Coming.
A horse was standing along Chestnut
street the other day anchored by an
iron weight.
what else to do to pass away the time,
was industriously chewing the strap.
A newsboy happened along, and after
watching the animal for awhile he
| grinned a cluster of grins and turned
to a man who was standing near.
“Don’t say a word,” he gleefully re-
marked. “Old Umpire here is going to
have the surprise of his life in a few
minutes.”
“What is the matter with him?’ ask-
! ed the man, glancing first at the kid
and then at the horse.
“Nothin' is the matter with him,”
was the happy rejoinder of the news-
boy. “He may eat the strap all right,
but when he gets down to that weight
he will think he has struck a boardin’
house.”—Philadelphia Telegraph.
A “Washing” Mission.
The visiting housekeeper recently de-
scribed in the New York Sun must be
4 stout armed angel or she would never
have lived to write the entry in her
daybook quoted below:
“Washed the sick woman in bed,
washed and dressed four children, did
the washing, scrubbed two floors,
washed the dishes, washed the win-
dows.”
A discriminating glance at this en-
try will disclose the fact that she
washed about everything in the house.
How the head of the family escaped
the wash rag Is not stated. Perhaps
there was no head.
Smugglers’ Philanthropy.
At Broadmoor and Perth, England,
the criminal lunatics have a free sup-
ply of the most exquisite pipe tobacco,
cigars and cigarettes. In fact, they
smoke far finer stuff than the average
rich man. Yet all this good tobacco
costs the government nothing. The
pay for the
that England fills the tobacco boxes of
Perth and Broadmoor.
Not Her Abode.
“My income is small,” said a rather
dilatory lover, “and perhaps it is cruel
of me to take you from your father’
roof.”
“But I don’t live on the roof,”
the prompt reply.
According to Chinese law, a
who 1s too talkative may be div
. L
The horse, not knowing
Finding a Horseshoe.
There 1s a man who has a very poor
{dea of the horseshoe as a bringer of
good luck.
“1 found one in the road some time
ago,” he remarked. “As a matter of
fact, another old gentleman found it
also about the same time. We both
wanted it, and there was a tussle for
it.
“1 got the shoe, a black eye, a torn
finger from a rusty nail In the shoe
and a summons for assault and bat-
tery.
“It wasn't a very good start, but |
thought I'd give it a fair trial. Of
course in nailing the shoe up above the
front door 1 managed to smash my
thumb and fall from the stepladder.
“Then 1 sat down and waited for
the luck to begin. That shoe seemed
to be endowed with the power to at-
tract trouble in every form.
“Duns, bailiffs, the landlord, measles
and poverty were rarely out of the
house, and my faith was shaken,
“Then one day, when the rate col-
lector was standing on the top step,
that shoe came down with a crash”—
“Ah!” interrupted the sympathizer.
“Luck at last!"
“Not a bit of it.” sighed the unlucky
one. “It missed him by a foot."—Lon-
don Answers.
The Way of Womankind.
Women are indefatigable in their
analysis of conduct. A man accepts
a white ray of light for what it is; a
woman passes it through a prism and
resolves it into its component rays. If
I pass Mrs. A. In the street without
saluting her she conjectures a dozen
painful motives to account for my ab-
sentmindedness, If she passes me |
conclude that she is shortsighted or ab-
sentminded.
If 1 say to my niece Molly that 2 and
2 make 4 she consents, but is uncon-
vinced. But if I show her this little
formula—11%6+%+1% + 1%4=4-she Is at
once all alive with Interest and sits
down to work it out and proclaim in
triumph that it is so. From a hard
and dull statement of the fact it has
become a problem and an intrigue, and
here she is in her element.
That is the way of womankind in ail
relations to life.—“Comments of Bag-
shot.”
This Makes It Very Plain.
The meaning of the word “swastika”
is “It is well,” or good luck. The mean-
ing of the symbol is more complex.
Some folks trace it to the sun.
“The emblem is the sun in motion,”
argued Proressor Max Muller, “A
wheel with spokes was actually re-
placed by what we now call swastika.
The swastika is, in fact, an abbreviat-
ed emblem of the solar wheel with
spokes in it, ‘the tire and the move-
ment being indicated by the eramprus.
“It is the summary in a few lines of
the whole work of creation,” said Mme.
Blavatsky; “is evolution, as one should
say, from cosmotheogony down to an-
thropogeny, from the indivisible un-
known to materialistic science, whose
genesis is as unknown to that science
as that of the all Deity itself.
swastika is found heading the religious
symbols of every old nation.”
The Defect In His Dressing.
The professor of surgery in one of
England's universities has the reputa-
tion of being one of the most painstak-
ing aad delicate operators in Britain,
thoughtful of the patient and careful
in the clinic. One day in the course of
a clinical demonstration he turned to
a student who had just commenced his
studies with the question:
“Now, sir, can you tell me what is
wrong with my dressing?’
The ingenuous youth turned red and
preserved a discreet silence. The pro-
fessor, however, was not to be put
off and repeated the question. After a
long pause the youth stammered out
in a fit of desperation:
“Well, sir, if you insist on my telling
you, I should say your tie is not quite
straight.” —London Globe.
The Son's Answer.
After his son's great success with
the “Dame aux Camelias” Alexandre
Dumas wrote to him as though a stran-
ger, congratulating him on the book
and expressing a desire to make the
author's acquaintance. “I myself am a
literary man,” said he in conclusion,
“and you may have heard my name as
the author of ‘Monte Cristo." "”
Dumas fils was equal to the occasion.
He wrote immediately In reply, ex-
pressing the great pleasure he would
have in making his correspondent’s ac-
quaintance, principally on account of
the high terms in which he had always
heard his father speak of the author of
“Monte Cristo.”
Before Going Elsewhere.
“Good morning, Mr. Highprice!”
greeted the friend, entering Mr. High
price’s furniture store. “I saw your
ad. In the newspaper saying that you
would be pleased to have your friends
call in on you before going elsewhere
to buy, so I thought I'd call.”
“Very good!” returned the apprecia-
tive Mr. Highprice, rubbing his hands.
“Now, what can I sell you?’ :
“Nothing. 1 told you I was going
elsewhere.” —Pearson’s.
A Forgetmenot.
Citiman—You ought to know some-
thing about flora and that sort of thing.
me, what is a “forgetmenot?”
Jubs—Why, it's a plece of string
t your wife ties around your finger
{ vhen you go in town on an errand.—
+ Philadelphia Press.
Conceded Fitner-.
“This ‘Gates Ajar' derigu is n haud-
some one,” said the tombstone mun.
“It is just what I want,” sald the
widow. “He never shut a door in all
aur married life without being told.”
Indianapolis Journal.
The |
| covering
| studying a few moments she dipped
So ——
Slecpwalking.
Women and children are more apt to
suffer from somnambulism than men,
possibly because their brain is more
delicately poised and therefore more
easily influenced by dreams. A som-
nambulist nearly always walks with
"lis eyes wide open, the rupils being
teh dilated. He is a dreamer able to
act his dreams, and in this state the
tiziid become fearless, the weak strong
and the stupid brilliant. Their som-
nembulistic condition presents many
curious anomalies. The somnambulist’s
sease of hearing is not often suspend-
ed. for, generally speaking, he will an-
swer questions even If whispered. but
often the same ear is deaf to loud
noises. The sense of smel! is frequent-
ly altered. Brimstone and phosphorus
are said to be pleasant scents to the
somnambulist, and many cannot tell
wine from water, as the sense of taste
becomes perverted or entirely suspend-
ed. Some people walk periodically in
their sleep, while others do it spasmod-
ically. One German doctor goes to the
extreme of asserting that somnam-
bulists are attracted by the moon, and
thus they walk on roofs of houses and
at great heights because they derive a
peculiar pleasure from contemplating
the moon.
A Tiny Death Dealer.
A most agonizing death is caused by
an insect half the size of a pea—a
small black spider. It lives in Peru,
in South America, but a few speci
mens have reached Europe in ship-
loads of timber. Not long ago a dock
laborer was unlucky enough to come
upon one in the Victoria docks while
unloading a bark. The tiny death deal-
er dropped upon the back of his hand
and dug its fangs into his flesh. The
bite itself was nothing, but as soon as
the poison began to work the man
fainted with pain. Soon afterward he
came to and lived three days before
the end came. This spider's venom
scorches up the blood vessels and
spreads through all the tissues, caus-
ing the most fearful agony a human
being can have to bear. The worst of
it is that the victim lives at least two
days, enduring unthinkable anguish
the whole time. This spider is luckily
not common, It is known as the
“specky,” and when a man who knows
what the bite means is bitten he gen-
erally blows out his brains.—London
Chronicle.
Extreme Obedience.
The Youngs had unexpectedly drop-
ped in on the Baileys just as dinner
was about to be served. The hostess,
considerably disturbed, called her little
daughter Helen aside and explained
that there would not be enough oysters
to go around and added, “Now, you
and I will just have some of the broth,
and please do not make any fuss about
it at the table.”
Little Helen promised to remember
and say nothing. But when the oys-
ters were served Helen discovered a
small oyster in her plate which had ac-
cidentally been ladled up with the
broth. This puzzled the little girl, as
slie could not recall any instructions |
this contingency. After
the oyster up with her spoon and, hoid-
ing it up as high as she could, piped
out, “Mamma, mamma, shouldn't Mrs.
Young have this oyster too?"—Chris-
tian Register.
Countess Hertford's Bell.
Edward Seymour, earl of Hertford,
in the days of Queen Elizabeth married
as his third wife a beautiful young
widow who had been engaged to Sir
George Rodney. but whom she jilted
for Lord Hertford. Sir George Rodney
traveled to Amesbury and, putting up
at the inn, awaited the homecoming of
the earl and countess, who were ex-
pected to arrive the next day. The in-
fatuated man wrote a dying ode to his
fickle love, using his blood as ink, and
upon the arrival of the bridal party he
went out to meet them. Lady Hert-
ford was agitated and terrified at the
appearance of her old lover, and be-
fore Sir George could be prevented he
drew his sword and, falling on it, ex-
pired at Lady Hertford’'s feet. The
countess presented a bell to Amesbury
church perhaps as a slight penance for
her fickleness. The inscription runs:
Be strong in faythe, prayes God well,
Frances, Countess Hertford's bell.
Stars That Qutshine the Sun.
One of the government astronomers, |
referring to stars that are so distant
that they have no measurable parallax,
asserts that one of these, the brilliant
Canopus, can be said with confidence
to be thousands of times brighter than
our sun. Whether we should say 20,
0U0, 10.000 or 5,000 no one can decide.
The first magnitude stars, Rigel and
Speca, also are at an immeasurable
distance and must, in view of their ac
tual brightness, enormously outshine
the sun. r
The 'Anged and Un'anged.
An American actor was once seeing
London from the top of a bus. As
they swung down the Strand he asked
the driver tc point out the places of
interest. “1.ight you are, sir! agreed
the driver, touching his hat. “There's
Luggit ’ill, where they ’ang ’'em.” A
little later, “There's parliment 'ouses.
where they make the laws wot does it,
across the way. An’ there's Westmin-
ster habbe~, where they buried the
good 'uns wot didn't get 'anged!”
His Only Chance.
“Why did you shake your fist at the
speaker?”
“Well,” replied the congressman, “I
didn’t wap. the whole session to slip
ly without my having made a motion
sf so:ne kind.”—Philadeiphia Ledger.
Calmness under contradiction is de-
monstrative of great stupidity or |
strong intellect.—Zimmerman.
‘at Newfoundland May 3, 1808, and
rT y
®.
ig &
i Eee
¢ ® -
The small boy's mother was the onl)
one who sat unmoved, while the smalf>
boy himself—most unwelcome additios
to the informal afternoon tea—gleefuk
SE
ly galloped around the circular table’
daintily spread with silver and chinas
and towered over by a a
“I's a squircus pony!” tl
fant joyously as he tossed his
locks and twinkled his besocked
with ever increasing speed. ib
“Mercy! He'll have the lamp over?
shivered a nervous young woman
the human gyroscope stumbled over
edge of a rug, clawed at the table
support, then triumphantly contin
circling. Conversation froze on
lips as they sat awaiting the in
ble crash. Only the voice of the s 7
boy's mother rippled along serenely. ©
hd
—_—
ae
The nervous young woman could
stand it no longer. In sheer des ir’
she ventured, “Mrs. Archibald—e! a
don me—your dear little boy" LJ
-The lady addressed stared blankly,»
then grasped the situation. “Malcolm,?
A
5
she said sweetly—“Malcolm, dear, run
around In the opposite direction, dar’
ling. Miss Vinton’s afraid you'll make
yourself giddy.”—Woman’s Home Com-
panion. ;
: Making It Simple.
In the course of his sermon a preach-
er in a rural district used the worl)
phenomenon. This word caused one
the members some trouble, for he
unable to attach any meaning *
Finally he determined to seek :
planation from the minister and
close of the service approached |
the subject.
’ at did yer mear
long word yer in
he began,
“Oh, 1 see you do not know what a
phenomenon is,” replied the minister.
“Well, have you ever seen a Cow graz-
ing in a field in which thistles were
growing?” ;
“Yes; many a time.” a
“That is not a phenomenon. And noe
doubt you have often listened to a lark
singing merrily away up in the
clouds.”
“Yes.”
“That, again, is not a phenomenon:
But if you saw that cow sitting on &
thistle singing like a lark that would
be a phenomenon.” — Liverpool Mer-
cury.
yer sermon?’
Kadiak leland’s Queer Climate.
Of the abnormal climate of Kadiak
island, Alaska, a writer says: “In spite
of its situation in such high latitudes
we find here what may well be de-
scribed as ‘the parting of the ways’ be-
tween the arctic and more temperate
regions. For, thanks to the moderating
influence of the Japanese current
which flows along its southern coasts,
Kadiak is favored with climatic eondi-
tions such as are unknown even I~
places a few miles north or east of i
on the mainland of Alaska. So pro
pounced is the demarcation line that
even on the island itself a traveler in
summer will suddenly emerge from
amid forests and vegetation of almosgy
tropical luxuriance into a barren, ghes-
olate land of silence, where lofty snow
capped mountains tower aloft, brood-
ing. as it were, over the past terrors of
an arctic winter, which will soon de
scend once more, enveloping them
its icy grip.”
ionic em
The English Channel:
One of the most famous bits of Giver
in the world is the English channel,
which separates and yet unites the sis
ter countries of England and France
and has been the scene of so much of
their history. It extends on the Eng:
lish side from dLand's End to Dover
and on the French side from the island
of Ushant to Calais. Its entrance from
the German ocean is the strait of Do-
ver, twenty-one miles wide, while at
the other extremity, where it joins the
Atlantic, it is 100 miles from shore to
shore. The greatest width midway is
150 miles. Owing to the strong current
setting in from the westward, the high
winds which frequently prevail and
the configuration of the shores it has
a roughness which has become prover
bial and few cross it without seasick-
ness.
It Would Flatter Man.
Few men have deserved and few
have won higher praise in an epitaph
than the following, which was written
by Lord Byron on the tomb
Newfoundland: +A
“Near this spot are
mains of one who possessed.
without vanity, strength withou
lence, courage without ferocity
the virtues of man without his
This praise, which would be
ashes, is but a just tribute tot
ory of Boatswain, a dog, who was
at Newstead abbey Nov. 18, 1808."
banquet.” + +o Lan
“Why, he didn’t have a Wor
“Well, that's being perfec
for him."—Houston Post.
RT
Attractive Young Lady—
“The Wide, Wide World.” Chivas
Bookseller—Were ‘it mine, mis
would willingly give it to you.—Pa
by that “tuere L
\
ar