Bellefonte, Pa., August 21, 1908.
THE SONG OF THE ROVING SONS
Just beyond the sunset’s barriers just across
the Farthest Sea,
Lies the Land of Lost Illusions, lies the Isle of
Used to Be.
Lies the harbor that we sailed from when the
world was all atane
To the key of Life's full flower, in the Sym-
phony ot June.
How they begged that we should tarry ere we
launched our daring bark, ’
Setting sail from Southern sunlight to the
realms of winter dark!
How they pleaded we should never brave the
breakers and the foam,
But should bide beside the heart stone and
should live a life at home!
“No,” we answered, “we must hurry, for the
Roving Sons are we;
We must make the great adventure; we must
sail the Seventh Sea;
We have done with sloth and safety and the
Little People's ways:
Better bitterness than languor; better Life than
length of days!’
And we sailed—and still
neath a starless sky,
Over wastes of waves uncharted, where we
know not how nor why;
Certain only we can never more recross the
Farthest Sea
To the Land of Lost lilusions, to the Isle of
Used to Be, —R.W, Kauftman.
SS
IN AUGUST.
Weston toiled ap the long stairs of the
boaiding-bhouse through halls whose dingy
twilight seemed like benevolence after the
torrid street. Several open doors gave
limpees of gay, untidy rooms ; past these
‘eston cautiously, morosely skulked. He
was afraid of being bailed in to rest and
cheer, and he bad no stomach for the indif-
ferent, kindly pity of strange actors—aotors
who bad work, actresses who were
and well and not married to unsocoessful,
worthless husbands. When he reached the
threshold of that fourth floor-hack where
his wife would be smiling to bim from the
sofa, he stopped outside the door, got his
breath, wiped his face, and called upa
nervous, aneonvincing cheeriness of aspect.
But she was, alter all, asleep. He as
sured himeelf of this by a second glance ;
noticing that the sun from the open win-
dow was beating on her face, he crossed the
room and palled the blind a little lower
before he dropped into a chair, aud sat star-
ing at her as if she had heen incarnate fate.
It seemed to him that she looked pot so
much ill as thoroughly and absolately tired
of the world. This fatigue, this indifler-
ence, made him almost afraid of her. He
told himself shat she had no grasp of life,
that she would let it slip from hetween
her fingers with as listle interest as she had
the open letter which bad fallen beside her
loange. He felt bimesell shiver in the hot
room ; then he felt she fever, the stifled
threatening of the day, more appallingly
than before. Iu a passsion ol uureason he
cursed the house and the inhuman orea-
tures in it who bad let her lie there so
near the window in the streaming heat ;
his glance strayed from the d letter
to the envelope which lay farther along the
carpet in front of the door ; he thought
that probably a breeze had blown away the
envelope as it closed she door, and he cars:
ed them that they bad let her lie there in
a draft. The whole miserable universe was
conspiring to take her from him!
He had heen all dav at the agencies. His
conscience, sinoe they had heguo to owe
the landlady, had made rather a point of
his not heing at home for lanch ; bat he
bad forgotten his appetite, at any rate, in
that search for work. He had heen search
ing for itso long ! He bad worn out the
whole summer climbing those stairs, hang-
ing in those doorways. trying to orack jokes
across the damnable wire fences behind
which sat enthroned those oracles of life
and death who held close behind their com-
placens lips the secrets and the favors of
the managerial gods. He had been prowl
ing there in the early spring when the
gaily dressed crowds were threaded every
now and then by brisk celebrities ; he had
seen the crowds melt and vanish in the
summer heat, gone to Europe after clothes
to farmhouses to economize, to summer
stock companies, not one of whiob wanted
Weston though they seemed to want plenty
of other people a good deal liké bim, ex-
cept that they were apt to be less oom-
petent and could not be had so cheap. He
saw the time when, during the long faint-
ing days, almost nobody came into the of.
and he was lefs face to face with the
relaxed awefulness of the agents, who took
to cigars and newspapers or to tasting, ac:
cording to their sex. And now the time
had come when the crowds were back again
and once more the managers threw their
handkerchiefs,and once more Weston stood
unchosen in the mob. It was the last stage
aod the worst. He had been welcome for
his company in July's SHIA oifives where,
as he told his wile, he consistently
practiced that engaging motto for the shy :
‘Assume ap easy and familiar maoner, es-
pecially with ladies.” But pow with the
advance of the autumn business, the rush
and sug of managers who wanted actors
aod aotors who were wanted, Weston was
forgotten ; when he endeavored to recall
himself he became something of a bore. In
the twentieth century even oracles must
eas, and, though you may have the friend-
liest wishes toward bim, there is no profi
to anybody in sending a man to see mana-
gers whom managers do not want to eee |
He and Grace had not foreseen quite
such a future when, five years ago, she had
flown in the face of Providence and mar-
ried him. It was ber father (who had kept
a candy store in Milwaukee, nexs doortoa
theatrical boarding-house) who bad shown
himself astonishingly alive to the sitna-
tion, and had acourately and enthusi-
astioally pointed out to her the disad-
van of marrying an actor. What!
one of that idle, extravagant, shiftiesss los,
a man who would lie in bed late and want
his breakfast brought up to him, who
would bring beer into the house in a pitoh-
er and play pinooble for ! Had he
anything to support a wifeon? Now that
Soy TR Tle
» y not
around out of work half she time ot Ban
pect ber to support him, yes, or take her
money, as like as not, and spend is on oth-
er women ! At least wait till she
are salling under-
that did for you on the stage !
e tired figure gave a twitoh;
he seemed to feel his son’s little body
crowding on his heart, the bits of fingers
creeping and searching over his face. They
had had to send the child back to Grace's
family when sypboid had ravaged the
mother in the winter that was past ; Wes-
ton could not bat suppose that it would
have found ber a less easy victim if she
bad ever been really well since she haby
came. Her e bad been very kind
shout the baby ; they could wot blame
Weston for the necessity of partiog him
from his mother since other persons beside
married actresses are subject to typhoid ;
at the same time it all seemed to them
only another mesh in thas web of dreari-
ness and failore in whiob they felt he bad
entangled her. Up to the very present
Weston had never failed to send back a lis-
tle money for the boy's expenses, but that
was no longer po-sible. The child was al-
most nothing to him as yet, ip comparison
with she mother, but be could not have
known for nearly two years that helpless
life of bis first son and vot feel the sting of
ceasing to be its provider. Justly or
unjustly, be saw himsell with she eyes of
men who could at least pay their families’
board bills ; he thought of one fellow in
particular who used to bang around Grace
in Milwankee, but who had married since
then and whoee wife, from her new auto-
mobile, had nodded condescendingly to
Grace the lass time they bad met. He
wondered if Grace sometimes remembered
whose automobile that might have been ;
he bimsell remembered very well how he
used to guy the fellow toher !| His heart
sank now with shame,and yes with a tench
of the old stupid jealousy, and he had such
a sense of batefulness in himsell that there
seemed no distance great enongh to divide
bim from her. He moved his chair a little
closer to the conch.
The band of the dollar clock on the
mantelpiece pointed to five. Tomorrow
would be Saturday, and most of she offices
would close at noon. Practically another
week was gone, and at this time of year
that meant another week nearer to the
gull. He went over to himself the mava-
gers he had seen lately : Fellows, the
romantic «tar who had thought Weaton too
tall to play with him ; Hopkins, who had
really wanted him for ‘Captain Bryce’ if
only he bad been large enough for a guards-
man; Lorenzo, who saw him in reference to
the juvenile with Mrs. Erskine, but who
had confided to a friend that he would
make her look like his grandmother ; the
Einalers, who had been favorably impress-
ed with him, but who bad hedged on hear-
ing bim ask a small salary and feared to
trust him with the part : and Phillips, whe
had sent for him, bus who, baviog employ-
ed him when he first went on the stage, re-
fased with indignation to pay him any-
thing beyond she meagre salary of that
time. He had gone hack to Phillips the
next day, but the part was filled. He
would never have les the miserable chance
slip in the fires pias: if he bad not been fill-
ed with hope of Ted Chesney’s negotiations
with Joseph Lemuel, if Ches had nut en-
couraged him by the wild fantasia of get-
ting him a job in shese exalted regions.
“If be comes to my terms,’ Ches had de-
olared, *‘I shall have cbaige of the whole
show, of every pail they drive on this side
of the footlights. It’s that for me or noth-
iog.”” What a fool he had been to suppose
that a good fellow like Chesney would ever
get any such terms, that Fellows would
endure tall men about him, that Hopkins
would prefer art to weight in the presenta-
tion of a goardeman ! Chesney’s contingent
offer bad been his dearest hope; he took ont
of his pooket, reread and tore into bits yes
terday’s note which told him thas the deal
with Lemuel was off. Well, one thing
was olear, chance after chance, they had all
slipped ont of his hands like water. It
was all very well to make exonses for each
individual instance, but if he dared look in
the fave the testimony of the whole sam
mer one thing was certain ; whatever elee
he was, he was not desirable.
But why ? That was what he oould vot
help tormenting himself with—why?
What was it? He pas acide at once all
question of bis ability. He did nos doubt
himself, and if be did be bad only to ob-
serve the work of other men in higher
places to know that it was not their abili-
sy which put thew there. Was there some-
thing wiong with him shen, personally ?
Was there something distasteful in his ap
pearance, iu his manper, differentiating
him from acceptable heroes aud lovers?
For a long time now he had eearohed his
face, observed his carriage, hated his own
smile, his own voice, suspected in every
stirring of his personality some peculiar
and invidious distinction. And yet if that
were 80 it was ove in which Grace also
shared. She too, when she was able to go
ous, bad looked for work and uvavailingly
—ghe who was sweet $0 see and of so
pealing a delicacy and charm ! Or had he
grown incapable of judging her, and was
she, 100, mysteriously marked for failare ?
Were they cat off from the rest of man-
kind, they two, and left standing upon
some mysterious plague-splt? He told
himself thas shis was a deliriom of weari-
ness, but the delirium remained.
The strangeness of it was not so much
that they could get nothing good to do as
thas they could get nothing at all. It bad
not always been so, and yet they did nos
ask for so much now as they used to do;
their fine spirit about not taking engage-
ments exoept in the same cowpany bad
been broken, and be remembered old sora-
ples, fastidious standards of independence
or loyalty which had sometimes stood in
their way and which now seemed to him
like silly, sentimental dreams. He remem-
bered a big chance which he bad once given
up because she star he was shen playing
th would not release him. She had bad
no contract to hold him br and now be
moved bie lips in a sick derision of that
honesty. In the future, if there were such
a thing, he and Grace would take what
they could get and bang ou to is like other
people. If there came to be something lost
ween them in a mutual faith and pride,
at least they would know where their next
meal was coming from. He sold himself,
looking, looking dryly with his hot
upon the thinness is wile's hat
he was willing to pay any price, then
he saw that he was already payiog all he
bad. He realized witha sickness
than before that in his desperate determi-
nations he was no more powerful than a
child determining to be a pirate, and that
whatever he might do he was no more able
to buy a little ease, a breath of peace for
her shan to go back and leave her ou the
pleasavt path where he bad found her. He
started up with a restless shadder, and
going over to the farther window leaned
frowning down into the dreary litter
of the far-away backyards.
He asked himeell if be were an admitted
failore iu this business ; come now, what
was the next move ? Was there any other
business shat he knew, any trade which he
understood, any chance which, if it were
offered him, he would know how to take
Somewhere in the neighborhood peopl
thrift and foresight were getting in coal
Would anybody truss him to drive a ocoal-
wagon ? His whole soul sickened after
manual success, and cried out against gen-
~Re-e
gr
teeler accomplishments, the stmagly art
of pleasing—in which, he must suddenly
remember, he bad wholly failed to please.
But along middling lives shen, in shops
sod offices, was he capable of nothing?
Well, fairly capable of a good deal—per-
haps, with a listle time, a little opportuni-
ty and direction, all the things most lack-
ing io shie crisis. Bat to put out his band
securely and seize somethiog—no, nothing
in the world. The world, be saw, was t00
hig and bard for him and Grace, for life or
death they did not count init. The gorg-
ing, struggling wasses of success, the whole
blind, opulent, and crushing earth rolled
down apon them, rolled over them, and he
had no strength at all to shield her.
He had now for some time heen absently
gazing at she letter which had dropped
from Grace's haod, but it was only at this
moment that be perceived it to be a single
sheet of paper with some kind of business
heading. ith an agonizing pang of hope
he picked it ap. *‘The Elmeide Dairy—21
quts..”’—It was the milk bill, and it bad
vot been paid for three weeks ! He recall-
ed the dootor’s words : ‘At least a quart
a day, Mrs. Weston, il you are to gain as
we wish.” Three weeks! A dollar and
sixty-eight cents ! He had still four dol
lars from hie watob, which was the last
thing they had bad to pawn. A dollar and
sixiy-eight cents out of four dollare—he
would have tc stop she milk! Bat that
was impossible ! She needed is. Was it
really tine that she, Grace, could not have
what she needed when it cost only fifty-six
cents a week, and that rich concern was
dealing it away day after day. to multi-
tudes? It was quite true. They had cut
out their evening oar ndes a long while
ago ; last week shey bad decided to indulge
in no more breaths of air on the ferry—he
caught sight of her last hottle of medicine
on the washstand ; it had cost sixty cents
only a few days ago, and it was almost
gone! Weston felts himsell beginning to
grapple with a mingled fright and anger at
the absurdity of their affairs. Why, she
must give up everything ; alter all that he
had contrived for her she must slip back
again and get worse, and this time nothing
could be done to help her, though she
should actually suffer! It seemed nobe-
lievable. He had pitied such things often
enough when he bad heard them about
other people vaguely called ‘‘the poor,”
but about themselves it was a thing that
stopped his breath. He saw clearly, for
the first time, to the actual end of bis four
dollars, and realized that sum to he all that
remained between them and want. Not
another penny in the world—What were
they to do then ? My God! What wae to
become of them ? The blank horizon gaped
at him.
Ou the instant he was shaken by one of
those waves of panio which summer in the
city sends upon human nerves to break and
drown them. His spirit was ground and
beaten to pieces in that fierce rush of hor-
ror ; his sense cf common life deserted
him ; he was blind with fear ; sick and
shaking, his whole being one shrieking
pandemonium of hysteria, he sat staring
at his wife and knocking with bis knuckles
on his open mouth. “‘Oh! oh! ob!" kept
on the alternate pound aod flutter of his
heart, ‘‘what is to hecome of us ? What
is to become of us? What shall I do?
What shall I tell her? When the time
comes that the money is all gone what «hall
I say to her? Where shall we gc? What
will they do with us?’ Strugzle as he
would there was no way out, nothing that
he could see between them and a misery
beyond death. Death, indeed, bow easily
people talked about that,as if it were quick
and reliable and mes with overnight! It
was not death he feared, but the length of
its approach which was—impraocticable.
There muss be something to be done—
something—there must be—other people
did things mponey was made—but oh,bow,
how ? What to try ? Where to turn? What
next? His heart was gasping open and
shat like the gills of a dying fish, hut she
dollar clock ticked on, indifferent, like
fate, and no other answer sonuded through
the frenzied whimper of his brain. He
hegan to crave some sigral of human near-
ness, he felt as if he must go mad indeed if
some one did not speak to him and prove
him still capable at least of communication
with his kind. And suddenly he wonder-
ed at Grace's sleeping so soundly #0 long.
He bad heen at home wow for some time,
and she had not moved ; it seemed to him
as if she bad not breathed. All she jang-
ling nerves in him were stricken quiet by
a single fear. If she—He put out bis band
and touched her ; her skin was moist and
warm, she sighed and stirred a little. And
as that he ios all grip opon bappiness or
unhappiness, submerged in a kind of ter-
rible relief. He remained bent forward,
shuddering, and after a time, when he be-
gan to recover consciousness, to rise to the
surface, be found himself holding desperate-
ly to some idea, some plank of safety.
This idea turned out to be that he bad
been making a fool of himeell for nothing,
that no matter what happened Grace was
provided for, thas she could alwaye go back
to her people. It wasan abhorrent thought,
bus he clung to is, still quakiog, it was
true, but reassuring, quieting himself.
Why, what a fuss he bad been making !
What was all this deathly fear he bad been
drowning in? She was not going to die,
she was not going & want, whas bad he
been thinking of? She was not going to
sink here with him, vo, no ; she could go
home to decency, security. He began to
breathe evenly, he sat up and wiped his
face and head that were all cold and drench-
ed with the sweat of nightmare. Why,
thas was it, that was the way | He would
write to-night to Grace's lather and ask for
money for ber ticket home, and as soon as
she wae gone he would give np the room.
A man alone could always manage some-
how uatil—Well, he would try; there
might be something somewhere that he
could do. He got slowly to his feet and
to walk up and down gravely and
with judicial calm, sobered from having
touched the d God knew it would
be hard to tell her thas she must 60 boms,
That was a thing she had always kept out
of her mind. Poor Grace! poor girl!
They would give her enough to eat and a
giace 30 stay in in the bustling, strident
ittle but they would her very
un . He knew the family oirole well,
its its sound, comfortless comtort, ite
their sentiments about him so Grace she
would still hear them confiding in the
neighborhood, and she would have to go to
them for car fare, for posiays His
ohild, soo, and his ! No er peo-
e were contemptuous of him. Contempt
bimself had long Leen in him likea
poison and yet within him, too, Soetiing
rose to combat that contem He
done his best. he would do bests still.
She would understand. He looked long
at her pale face and told himeell shat he
had loved ber ae faithfully and given her
as true a joy as if he had been able to serve
her better. He took a little comfort, bus
Lie was too tired and too sad for hope. He
saw her whole nature shrink from she bit-
ter which was growing in his
hears, and he said aloud, “‘I can’t help
you.” Ashe spoke his glance fell agein
upon the envelope which lay face down.
ward oo she floor, and shis time be saw
that it was nos au eavelope only, but an
unopened letter,
He read the signature first, and then in a
kind of apathy the whole note, from which
presently particular phrases began to stab
through him in flashes of great joy—'‘As
the eleventh hoar. ali O. BK. . .
Lemuel perfectly agreeahle. to sign
contracts. . office ten to-morrow. . .
Chesney.”
The twilighs 4d ned and deepened in
the qoiet room. eston sat down oon the
floor heside the sofa and nestled a» hand
among the folds of his wife's dress.
She stirred again, opened her eyes, and
smiled drowsily down at bim. With a
long, light hreath she moved her band io a
little gesture of welcome, and reassured hy
his presence she let her lashes droop again.
He continued to sit there in the soft even-
ing silently waiting to give her his news
when he shoanld wake her, and rested his
cheek against her ekirt—By Virginia Tracy,
in Collier's
Playing = Poor Hand,
To every emall-«alaried man or wage-
earner th-re comes a fighting chance ; not
one whiob has to he waited for darirg long
years, or which involves tireless struggle
against competitors, hut a fighsing chance
which comes every week—uvay, every day—
which may. every day, shew ite victory.
It is a =mall and homely chauvoe, hut it
calls for a fight as bard, often, as the tight
for greater things ; a fights which, heng
won, leaves the man bigger and stronger
and better fitted for larger chances ; which,
heing lost, leaver him weaker, smaller in
his own opinion and less confident.
Read what one hundred dollars did for
one small-salaried wan. He was a olerk
in a hig corporation office and had worked
for six years without gesting a dollar shead.
In fact, he said on one occasion : ‘‘There
never was a moment in those first years
when | was not in debt for my week's pay
hefore it was earned.’
One day he received fiom his chief a
scathing lecture for some poor work, and
the terms need were such as to show him
that he was considered of no value to him-
self or to any one. He was told that be
was just a poor ten dollar mao, and would
never be anything else. Bitterly mortified
and humiliated, he was unable to assert
himeell by an immediate resignation. He
hadn't a dollar ahead—indeed, he was
owing for a week's hoard and several other
emall debts. In his disgust at himself he
formed the resolution to get his feet upon
solid ground. He clung to every cent of
his wages with a pertinacity as determined
as his former improvidence had been. It
was springtime, snd he rented a small
camp in some woods two miles from the
works, where he cooked his own meals at
an expense which did not average one dol-
lar per week. At the end of the summer
he was one hondred dollars ahead, and had
a chance, by paying that sum down, to
porshase a neat cottage on the outekirts.
mall cottages were exceedingly scarce in
that factory town, and he easily found a
young couple as tenants for his house, who
agreed to board bim for the rent. This
was equivalent to $22 per month for a cos-
tage which he bad bought for $1700.
Four years later he had cleared his title,
sold his cottage for $2100 and, getting
married himself, paid that amount toward
a $3400 two-tenement house. In addition
to this excellent financial start he had
gained the respect of his fellow-clerke and
his chief and won a promotion which,
under his old course, would undoubtedly
have gone to some one else.
The other case: an old railroad olerk
once informed his chief that he was going
to stop work and Jive upon his savings.
The chief was somewhat surprised, since
the salary had never been higher than six:
teen dollars a week, and a family had been
raised.
‘‘Have youn got enough?’’ he inquired.
“Well,” answered the old pen-driver
witha laugh, ‘‘I guess I can worry through.
I've got rents coming io that total up to
over a month.
“Is began twenty-six years when I
was married. I was gesting twelve dollars
a week then, and both my wife aud I bad
mighty little show for ever owning a home,
but we put adollar into a hank. In four
years we'd got $200, and then my ohanoe
came. Out near Sixteenth Strees the rail-
road company bad decided to double the
tracks, and hed to buy an extra strip of
of land. There were a few houses to be
torn down or moved, and I got a fairly
good six-roomed cottage for $150. I bought
a nearby lot for $600, on which I paid $25,
and gos my honse moved and set on cedar
posts for the balance of my cash and anoth-
er hundred, which I borrowed. When I
moved in I owed just $675 on a cottage
much better than the one I had been pay-
ing $18 a month for. It didn’t take long
to clear that, and shen I repeated the ope-
ratios when I bad the chance, sometimes
borrowing a little on mortgage to carry the
trade through. There are always houses
$0 be moved in this town. Now I own
twelve—large and small.”’— Saturday Even-
ing Post.
The March of Mexico.
Was it not in Constantinople, long ago,
that the grand vizier formed bie judgment
of the popularity of the government's
measures by counting ap how many bakers
had been ne over night?
By some means the attitude of a people
toward their government must express
itself. A small insurrection in Mexico
calls attention to the exceeding rarity, in
later years, of such events in a country
where they were once a staple occurrence
—publishable in set form, like the base-
ball scores and receipts of wheat at Chica-
That Diaz's thirty-year rule—albeit
not patterned to our taste—is satisfactory
39 dhe bagy of his subjects seems a fair con-
In government revenue aud foreign trade
ee es tS
e is two- .
Jureige more miles: of railway and sele-
than Italy.
is important industrial position is al-
most altogether a creation of Diaz's gov-
ernment. Under his beneficent regime,
our merchandise trade with Mexico has in-
creased elevenfold
The United States’ trade with Mexico is
a8 great as with China and Japan combined ;
sixty per cent. as great as with Canada;
very nearly as great as with France; five
times as great as with Spain. Excepting
England, Germany and France, there is no
country with which we bave as
» trade as with Mexico.
bow far Mexicans have ad vanced
toward liberty under Diaz ie a diffionlt
question. That he has pnt their hoose in
order and vastly inoreased material pros:
pusiey are patent and not unimportant
—8aturday Evening Post.
— "‘Flattery is like a fairy tale. Even
though one doee not believe it, one listens
willingly to it.”
Where Brides are dold at Auction,
The mercenary side of matrimony has
supplied numerous novelists with themes
for sensational fission. Ouvee again, how-
ever, it is possible to assert that ‘‘trush is
stranger than fiotion.’’ Witness the follow-
ing account a Russian correspondent gives
of the state of affairs prevailing in outlying
parts of his dismal and disordered ocoan-
try. ‘
The anunal marriage avctions are, he
says, now being held in the towns of
Guchatsk and Lystcheffka. The first
vamed town is the more wm t place,
and possesses a onthedral. More than 300
would-be brides have arrived there from
the surrounding country oo sleighs., Most
of them are accompanied by their parents
and relatives. At 9 o'clock sharp ‘‘the
bride show’’ is hell in frovt of the cathe
dral. The girls are diawn upina line
reaching from that haildiog to the city
hall. All are dressed up specially for the
ocoasion, wearing their best olothes, the
picturesque head-dresses, necklaces, ear-
| rings and other jewel and ornaments
which it is the greatest desire of Russian
girls to amass, They have all taken & hot
bath in preparation for this great occasion,
aod consequently they look much prettier
{and more attractive than at ordinary
times,
| The men paes along the line, examining
| the buman goods with interest and vary-
ing degrees of emotion. The middle aged
and well-to-do customers usually regard
the girle with critical aod business-like
attention, while some of the young fellows
exhibit considerable bashlaluess.
The carelul customer looke all along the
line before he begins to pay any astention
to individoals. Then be stops before an
article that bas taken hie fancy and exam.
ines her points thoroughly. He runs his
fingers through her hair, to see if it is her
own, of good quantity, and well kept. He
opens her mouth and looks at her teeth.
e taps her chest to see if it is firm and
solid. He looks carefully at her limbs to
see if they are straight and strong, and
capable of doing the extremely bard work
he will reqnire of her on his farm.
Having satisfied himself regarding all
these points, be mentions to the girl the
rice he 18 willing to pay. This will vary
rom 5 rubles ($250) up 10200 rubles
($100), or even more. Jt is scarcely neces-
saiy to say that one does not get a very
showy bride for $2.50. If the price is not
high enough the girl shakes her bead and
the man may offer more or pass on in search
of something cheaper. Il the price is
satisfactory she consulte with her brother,
who is her particular goardiav, or with
some other member of her family. The
money paid goes to the family, but when
they are good-natured they give it to the
bride to belp her start housekeeping. Some-
times there is & lively competition between
swo oi more men who aie seeking the same
attractive bride. It then becomes praotio-
ally an auction.
The marriage market 18 likely to last as
long as a week. Daring this time there is
a good deal of merrymaking, cften degener-
ating into debanches, in the course of
which the prospective brides sustain more
or less damage. Those who are left at the
end of the marriage fair are mostly un.
attractive, and bring nexs ro nothing.
When the Roesian countryman has se-
cured a wife be carries her away to his
lonely house in the thinly-peopled ocoun-
try. It isa mere hus, if he is a peasant.
There she has to labor as hard as a mau, or
even harder, rising at dawn, milking the
oows, carrying wood to the hoase and doing
all the hardest kind of work. It her hus-
band is too poor to afford a horse she may
be harnessed to a oars or plow with a big
dog or donkey,
But before this stage of domesticity is
reached there is 8 wedding, which is ove
of the most gorgeous and picturesque fea:
tures of Rus«ian lite.
The betrothal ceremony takes place a
week and a day before the marriage oere-
mony. Daring shese days the bride muss
weep and wail and lament loudly over her
cowivg marriage and separation from her
parents, although really she desires these
events more anxiously than anything else
in the world.
In Russia, as in China, the bride's girl
friends devote themselves to consoling and
cheering her during these days of lamenta-
tion. They recite stories to her and sing
songs, and the harden of each song aod of
every story is the joy and bappiness of
matrimony. On the day before her mar-
she unbraide ber long plait of bair
divides Sopp bet maiden comrades
the flowers and ri that escape from
her loosened tresses. Then they lead her
to the bath. As she bathes they sing to
her. They spend hours dressing and re-
dressing her long hair, and while they
brush and twist they sing to her songe of
love and happiness.
Upon the wedding day the bridegroom
comes to her parents’ house and olaims his
bride. Then comes a touching bit of cere-
mony. The maiden kneels before her par-
ents and aske them to pardon her for soy
offense of which she may have been guilty.
They lift ber up and kiss her. Then they
offer her bread acd salt, which signifies
shat while they live they will notsee her
lack the necessaries cf life. When she leaves
the house its door is left open, to sigvily
that she may return when she will—that
her girlhood home is still hers,
The Russian people have many interest-
ing proverbs about women, one of whiob is
that “There is one soul only between 10
women.’ —Baltimore Sun.
Orrin spete.
There are some women who have “‘ory-
ing spells,” whiob seem $0 be entirely un-
scoountable, and are generally attributed
in a vague way to ‘‘nerves.’”’ A man hates
to see a woman ory under any oiroumstan-
hii he gi
listle sym o him. ey wou
ie fg fh weakness and misery
that lie behind she tears. Dr. Pierce's
Favorite gl has brightened many
a home, given smiles for tears to many a
woman just because it removes the cause
of these nervous outbreaks. Disease of
the delicate womaniy organs will surely
affect the entire nervous system.’ ‘“‘Fa-
vorite Presori " cures these d
and builds up a condition of sound health.
For nervous, b women there is no
medicine to compare with ‘‘Favorite Pre-
soription.”
i — De you find great wealth a bur-
en
“Sometimes,”’ answered Mr. Comrox.
“There's never any telling when mother
and the girle are going to invest in a tour-
ing oar or a steam yacht or a foreign noble-
man or some such form of worriment and
responsibility.”
——'‘Yee, he makes a big bit with her.
He has a green automobile, and it matohes
her dress.”
“Well, why don't you take ber driv.
"mm
“I ain’t gos no green borse.”
Mind in Brutes.
““The elepbant is the mechanical en-
giveer among avimals,” said Dr. Frank
Baker, superintendent of the Washington
Zoo. ‘No other mewber of the brute orea-
t100 possesses any such mechanical dexter-
ity. One is almost tempted to say dexter-
isy of manipulation, inasmuch as the
trunk is used like a band. An slephans
will learn not only to carry lumber (a par-
pose for which the pachyderm is frequently
employed in the Orient), bat to do man
things shat require delicacy of touch, i A
a+ untying koots I bave known ove of
these animals to spend many hours night
after night iu trying to remove the holding-
pin from bis shackle.
‘‘Here is one point wherein the ‘ntelli-
gence of the elephants differs strikingly
from that of a monkey. He is extraordin-
arily persistent, purening a single idea with
a patient determination rarely found even
in homan beings. The monkey, on the
other hand, is always the brute described
by Kipling, with no continuity of thought
or purpose. His special aed unequaled
accomplishment is that of an equilibrist.
Respecting the quality of his thinking we
do not really know very moch, many of
his actions that seem most intelligent and
human like being mere imitation.
‘It bas been asserted by a recent writer
that domestication causes the braine of
animals to deteriorate. In support of
which statement it is arged thas horses
which have ran wild in Australia have be-
come remarkably intelligent through being
ohliged to think for themeelves and get a
liviog for themselves, though what they
gain in this way is acquired at the expense
of beauty and other qualities which make
hoiees valuable to man. Horses that give
up thinking aod submit to their masters’
orders, it is argued, are the most useful,
and therefore most likely to be encouraged
to perpetuate their species under condi.
tions of domestication.
*‘All of this may he true, but I confess
that my own observation does not indorse
it. The dog undeniably is much more in-
telligent than the wolf from which it
sprang. As for the horse, ite mind seems
rather to he developed than otherwise
through intimate contact with man, its
ideas and interests heing modified thereby.
I have seen, at the Zoological Park in New
York, the famous wild horses from the
steppes of Western Mongolia, and it did
not strike me that they were partiounlarly
olever. Yet these horses have never been
domesticated hitherto, the first ones known
to civilization heing captured, fifty-two in
pamber, by Khiigiz rough riders, and
forwarded, in 1900, to Hamburg, where
twenty-three of them were delivered alive.
“Unquestionably, however. domesti-
cation does affect unfavorably the intelli-
gence of some animals—notahly that of
birds. The farmyard goose is a stupid
oreature compared with the wild goore,
which i* a noble fowl, and hardly to be
recognized as the same creature.’ —Safur-
day Evening Post.
Sparing the Rod.
‘“Take him home and thrash him sound-
ly. What most bad boys need nowadays
is to he licked as we were when we were
hoys.”” So a judge sapiently conoseled the
father of a fifteen-year old ‘“‘incvrrigible.””
But the judge forgot, or had never learn-
ed, that this fifteen-year-old delingnent ie
not at all the hoy that he was ut fifteen,
when he robbed the neighbors orchard and
meekly suffered she retributive trank-
strap.
This boy is filty years older as the clock
marke time, and mach more than that in
the march of civilization. There is no
more intelligence in punishing a fifteen.
vear-old as such lads were punished fifty
and a hendred years ago than there would
he in punishing a fifty. vear-old as men
were then ponished.
The boy no less than the man bad ab-
sorbed the feeling of hie own time. Tom
Jones, as we recollect it, was considerably
more than fifteen when he was hoisted to
the butler’s back and virtuonsly fostigated
hy the tutor. He submitted himself—
though with many mental reservations—to
the band of Established Order operating in
that conventional manner. A male person
of Tom's years and inches nowadays who
would take a heating from hie tutor with-
out putting up the beat fight there was in
him would bardly serve ar a model fora
young gentleman of high spirit.
The world’s view of cudgels has chang-
ed. A fifteen-year-old hoy isa citizen of
the world even as a sixty-year-old man.
Or even more 80.—Saturday Evening Post.
Only a Mask.
Many are not being beuefited by the
summer vacation as they should be. Now,
notwithstanding much outdoor life, they
are little if any stronger than they were.
The tan on their faces is darker and makes
them look healthier, bus it is only a mask.
They are still nervous, easily tired, upset
by trifies, and they do not eat nor sleep
well. Wiis Shey need is what tones tae
nerves, perfects digestion, oreates appetite,
and makes sleep refreshing, and that is
Hood's Sarsaparilla. Pupils and teachers
generally will find the ohief purpose of the
vacation best suhserved by this great
medicine which, as we know, ‘‘builds up
the whole system."
Almost every home bas a dictionary in
whioh the meaning of words can be found.
It is far more important for every home to
have a reference book in which the mean-
ing of symptoms of ill health is explained.
Dr. Pierce's Common Sense Medical Ad-
viser is a dictionary of the body. It
answers the questions which are ed in
every family concerning health and disease.
Other diotionaries are costly. This is sens
Jree on receipt of stamps to pay expense of
mailing only. Send 21 ope-cent stamps
for the book bound in paper, or 31 stamps
for cloth binding, to Dr. R. V. Pierce,
Buffalo, N. Y.
—Politician—*‘You said in your last
issue that I wasn’t fis so sleep with the
hoge. I want you to retract it.”
Editor—*'Very well Jimmy, put in our
next issue that Mr. Smith is fis to sleep
with the hogs.”
— Don't try to take up all the room in
the middle of the road. fe are nom-
erous travelers on the highway who need
a little room themselves.
The story of Tantalus mooked by the
food he could lt fui She dauptaio be
could nos taste, story of every dys-
ptio. Life to him must be ao endless
Sp ceaseless mortification of the flesh.
Dy» oan be cured. It is being cured
olay ay by the use of Dr. Pierce's Gold-
en Medical Discovery. Cases of the most
complicated character and of long standing
have yielded to this medicine, when every
other means had been tried in vain.
“Golden Medical " cures 98 per
cent, of all those who give ita fair and
faithiul trial.