Bellefonte, Pa., November 27, 1908.
THE LITTLE SHAWL.
Just a little half-wors shawl, —
That was ail!
With stitches slipped and meshes torn,
But dearer far to me than all
The gifts that earth could bring.
She left it lying there, just where
She'd find it when the morning came,
But morning found her there asleep,
With on her lips a quiet smile,
As tho’ her rest were sweet and deep.
A little breeze came blowing through,
And om the air a scent | knew,
A faint, elusive fragrance grew,
Old-tim-y things seemed blossoming :
Those violets that used to bloom
Beneath a nest of leafage green
And send abroad a wide perfume ;
Rose-petals gathered long, and kept
Within a wide and covered jar ;
Sweet olives—each a tiny star
Upon a gray and dusty screen ;
Slender stalks of lavender,
And spicy pinks that used to grow
In life's first gardens, row on row.
All seemed the very soul of her,
And brought to me a message clear.
Upon my knees, I clasped and kissed
The little shawl the wind had blown ;
It seemed against my own, her cheek ;
Her patient lips so pure, so meek,
That knew ne word of worldly guile ;
Her precious body frail and weak,
With loving service wasted, worn,
All seemed to be again my own,
For human care and cherishiog,
O Love! what wonders in thy name,
When with a blossom’s balmy breath
Our souls have bridged from life to death:
we=Julia Neely Finch in New Orleans Times-Demo
erat,
THE MAGIC OF SOURNESS,
“If dot old stork efer brings a leetle ba-
by to my house, two things I'll bet dot poy
will bave,”” said Spiegel, bis gray eyes
bulging a challenge to the musicians about
him. *‘First of dem things’’—with a stern
look at Timmins, the drummer who was
always teasing him, ‘‘is manners—bolite-
mess mit dem vot is smarter und
older und besser als yourself. Und der
second ’’—with a withering glance at those
members of the Albambra Orchestra who
bore the ignominy of American birth—*‘is
temperament. Yes; I'll bet dot boy bas
dot Cherman moosical temperament, py
ohiminey !"’
‘‘Vot if he is a girl, meppe #0?" ventur-
ed Klug, a second fiddle.
“Und dey say girls don’t got much tem-
perature,” added Meyer, the oboe, who
sometimes mixed his English.
Spiegel scornfully dismissed the proba-
bility of its being of an inferior sex.
‘“‘He won’s get bis temperament from
your side of the house, Spiegel,’’ comment-
ed Timmins, with an exasperating smile.
Spiegel placed his cornes across his knees
and pushed and tumbled his thick white
bair about his great dome-shaped head. It
was the gesture which invariably preceded
the uncorking of his vials of wrath. He
was accustomed to boom forth his assertive-
nees in those impromptu discussions and
argaments which always occurred during
the noisy half hour of tuning and prepara-
tion preceding the performance. It mat-
tered not what the subject was, nor the side
he happened to espouse; his massive per-
sonality usually bore everything AR -
bly before it. Even Stoess, the conductor,
cared little to run counter to his keen old
tongue. To Clayton enly he made ohei-
sance—Clay ton, who for twelve years had
managed the organization, procuring its
engagements, paying its salaries, and plan-
sing its latare.
hen the old cornetist had tufted his
white locks iu a chevauz-de frise about his
bulgiug temples, he turned to Timmins as
a lion to a mouse.
“Temperament !" he groaned, a commis.
erating smiie fastening upon his broad fea-
taren. ‘‘Ach, Gott! What you Americans
know apoud temperament! Yon haf is
not, und you nefer will bat it. It is chuost
you'vegot! Yah! yah! Mey-
er is right afier all—ohust temperature.
Temperature is der right word. Hot, red
hot for money, und dot tells der whole
story. Where are your gread moosicians ?
Hein ! Und dese emart alecky lestle Amer-
ican kits, they don’t got no—''
Spiegel stopped. Stoess had just made
his appearance, and the jargon of voices
i Signing reeds aud horns ceased.
0 all the years he bad heen playin
with the Alhambra Orchestra, ot Spies
gel bad never missed a performance; so the
appearance of his substitute oue afternoon
some months later caused great conjecture.
The next day, however, he was on hand
again, dropping into his chair flurried and
puffing just as Stoess raised his baton for
the i selection.
inarily he read his score with passa-
ble accuracy, but now his capricious little
instrument ous grotesque capers, blurring
rane and cracking wildly on dissonant
“What the devil’s wrong with you?”
demanded Stoess when the ns
was over.
a ih big face was whimsically ten-
“pre a leetle poy—only so long,” he
said happily, measurin :
Bi nsrumeot. g on his arm with
e men gathered about him .
“‘A poy?” inquired Klug. Susy
‘Und so leetle,” said Spiegel, measur-
ag again,
ein!" growled Stoess, to whom fath-
erhood bad become a rather monotonous re-
iteration. ‘‘Vot you expect? A poy mit
mustache, und a pipe, und a union card,
und a chob mit der Schutzen-Park Band
alreny ”
ut it was not Spiegel’s day for bein
teased, When the men had crowded —
him and congratulated him, he smiled be-
nignly, and opeuved a box of big black ei-
gars he had brought with him.
“We've called him Fritz,” he said
proudly, “‘mit my fader’s name.”
He did not loiter with them, as was his
custom, bat harried homeward.
Spiegel had been well past fifty when he
married pretty Lucy oy bo was half
his age. The girl was alone and poor, and
Spiegel bad long since tired of bachelor-
hood. That was three years and their
marriage hdd more happiness a unicu
of that sort uesally does. Indeed, with
the coming of *‘Fritzy" the old German's
cap of joy fairly brimmed. The little,
woman with the baby at her side was, he
though, the wom i ey sight he bad
n. Immediately he to pl
a career for his boy. ye hese own
‘We'll maig of him a gread pianist,” be
pn, ‘‘mit long hair und a private car, und
der ladies going grazy ofer him und der
newspapers telling what he eats and drinks
und wears. Yes, we maig of him a gread
pianies. Paderewski gets so high as two
bundred +ousand dollars der season !"
The last was added for the benefit of Mrs,
1, who was plainly lacking in what
eyer called ‘‘temperature.’
Everything was bent toward the end
that Fritzy should become a great pianist.
Nothing was omitted from his baby regime
that might have a beneficent musical infla-
ence in the years to come,
When be was big enough to sit alone,
Spiegel wouid prop a piece of musie up on
the floor, and sprawlivg down beside him,
would toot away most industriously.
“‘It sraine his leetle ears,” he said wise-
y
Ounce, during a ‘training’ period, some-
thing happened which exnited she soul of
the father, and seemed to presage remarka-
ble preencity for Fritzy.
““Leibchen you must learn der names of
sounds. Now papa plays dot B.” He
blew softly. ‘‘Dot note is B. Say B. Say
B, Leibchen.”’
*““Ba—bha,”’ gurgled Fritzy, who had
never as yet given an intelligible utter-
ance.
“Gread!’’ cried Spiegel. ‘“‘He says it in
Cherman! he says it in Cherman! Lucy
coom here! Leikehen is naming der notes
in Chermao !"*
Mrs, Spiegel hastened in from the kitch-
en.
‘‘He knows B alreaty,” crowed Spiegel;
“and now I try bim on G, und I won't
even tell him der name.” Again be blew
softly. ‘‘Was ist, Leibchen?'’ he demand-
ed, his big eyes popping confidently.
Mrs. Spiegel had left the kitohen door
open, and in consequence there was a
slight draft oo the floor.
Fritzy sorewed up his red mouth, and
Be listle pug nose began to twitch exocited-
y.
“‘Chee!"” he sneezed with quick finality.
“Gott I" oried Spiegel in amazement,
‘“‘be spiks in English too—uund such an ear!
Ach, mein leetle Mozart !"’
Later, when be began to crawl, his fath-
er found kim one morning on the flat of
his back beside the open cornes-case, em-
bracing the instrument by a sort of com-
munity-ol-interests-plan which included
his mouth, his stomach, his fingers, and
bis toes.
The big German was delighted.
“S8—h !I”” he cautioned his wile. ‘‘He
wants to egsecate a solo!”
Mrs, Spiegel lacked her husband’s imag-
ination. ‘‘It’s bis bottle he wants to exe-
cunte,’’ she said dryly; but Spiegel’s opin-
ion was in no wise changed.
“Ach, dot poy takes moosic chust so
easy as he takes his milk !"’ he boasted oue
day to his colleagues. Fritzy was shen
scarcely eighteen mouths old.
‘Is bis mother musical, too?'’ inquired
Stoess with kindly interest.
A shadow crossed Spiegel’s hroad face.
He bad baen asked the question bafore,
and it always worried bim momentarily.
What if the child bad inherited his moth-
er’s complete lack of musical talents! Bat
his trepidation was osually short-lived.
*‘No,’” he replied langhing; “tus don’t
I got enough to go arount?’”’,
However, there came a time of tremen-
dous disappointment to him—a time when
he was poignantly aware that his boasted
talent, despite ite being ‘‘big enough to go
arount,”’ bad nos fallen in the slightest de-
gree to Fritzy. Nature had tricked the lad
out of all that had distinguished his fore-
bears in a small way.
At six, his absolute unmusicality had
carried despair to the most hopeful teach-
ers. Bat still Spiegel persisted. Strange
things bad happened to t musicians in
their youth, he contended. Wagner bad
failed utterly as a student of the piano.
The thing to do was to keep the boy at it.
In time he might grow unmusical enough
to compose, he declared grimly.
Bat after ten long years he gave up the
musical ghost. He felt then that he had
done his duty by his son.
“I'm nos so sare of thas,” remarked his
wife. ‘It seems to me that we've only
been putting a terrible burden upon him,”’
an attitnde which was, of course, clearly
beyond Spiegel’s understanding.
**Aren’s you glad, dear, not to have to
study the stupid stoff any more?’’ she asked
her boy one day.
The listle fellow looked up at her rue-
fully. *‘Oh, I don’t know,’’ be replied,
to her vast surpriee; and then added, ‘Is
gave papa something to talk to me about,
aod now be hardly ever says anything to
me."
She told Spiegel what the boy had said,
and the big fellow, ashamed of his uncon-
scions indifference, tried heroically for a
few days to make up forit. Bot it was as
evident as it had been all along that a hond
of mutual interest was missing.
Fritzy was a stordy little fellow, with
his mother’s face and ber pative shrewd-
ness, He bad a natural acuteness of obser-
vation that astonished even his artistic
father. There were other qualities of mind
and heart, too, that would bave satisfied
any parent who was notso hlindsd by the
blandishments of art.
Aside from his music, he was a boy who
did things. He liked base-ball, he had a
paper route, be was an expert bicycle-rider,
he conld swim farther than any other boy
in the neighhorhood, and he got into more
fights than all the rest of the community
put together. But be had neither musical
talent nor temperament.
“He's ohust a plain Yankee kit,’ de-
clared Spiegel, gloomily. ‘In afew years
he'll be a butcher und own a business
block, und go into bolitics. Une he'll like
dot ‘Waltz Me Arount, Willie,”’ besser als
Beethoven. Ach Gott!”
“Yes, he takes very much after the
woman you married,” retorted Mrs. Spie-
gel, giimly, her son’s eternal defender.
It was up at Lake Vance, where the Al-
hambra spent its summers that Fritzy
gaived respite trom the things that bored
him—school, his father’s usual nagging at-
titude, and his own shortcomings.
The Alhambra bad become one of the
permanent attractions of the place, whioh
boasted a Chautauqua and other means,
mostly intellectual, of passing what some
people call a profitable summer.
The lake lay mirrored among a maze of
wooded hills, with cot and the moss
entrancing tente scattered all about. There
was a big pavilion where concerts and vari-
ous other entertainments were given almost
every afternoon. A little steamer dodder-
ed lazily about the lake. Fritzy and his
mother often spent a whole day aboard is.
They were the greatest comrades, those
two. Of forenoons, when he was not play-
ing, Spiegel sometimes went with them, but
there was a lack of understanding between
him and the boy.
No one knew better than Fritzy where
the whole trouble lay. It seemed to him
there was not a day when his musical me-
diocrity did not abtrude itself. There was
the time, for instance, when Kiug’s son,
stupid little Berny Klug, sat beside his
father and played second with the non-
chalance of the oldest performer. How
Spiegel had talked of that, with what terri-
4 pl m he bad held it ap belore his
“I wish I bad learned to play,” Fritzy
sometimes said to his mother ; “Bas I
couldn’. I'm simply not snere when is
comes to music, and papa and everybody
else knows it. Ican’s keep time, and I
can’t strike the right notes, and hen I
start to practice, my mind flies clear away,
and the first thing I know I'm pilivg upa
bunch of errors. But 1 wish I could bave
—just for papa.”
" His mother never failed bim at such
times. ‘‘Don’t you worry, dear. It isn’s
your fault, but mine. It will come out ali
righs,’’ she would say, and put her arms
about him.
Ope day Spiegel’s cbair in the pavilion
was vacant and Fritzy took word to Stoess
that bis father was sick.
Clayton was standing near when the boy
delivered his message. Across his face
there flashed a look which the lad, in an
instant of acute intuition, caught avd in.
terpreted.
He left the pavilion and sauntered down
to the lake. He was worried by a vague
portent of somethiog which bad no more
foundation, he knew, than the fact that the
manager bad of late assumed a not altogeth-
er pleasant attitude toward his father. He
bad heard his parents speak often of it, and
his quick eyes had not failed to note the
look of anxiety that accompanied the dis-
cussion.
He idled about the heach fora while,
finally going home for his fishing-tackle.
He came back immediately to the pier, and
climbed into the snpporting trestle-work
directly under the floor, where he wrapped
himself ahout a brace and began to fish
desaltorily.
The concert came to an end, and the
audience harried from she pavilion, and
dispersed over the grounds.
Clayton and Stoess, talking earnestly,
went down to the beach. Stoess was ges-
tioniating emphatically.
They took a seat remote from the rest of
the pier loiterers, and just above where
Fritzy was ensconoed.
At first the hoy paid little beed to the
voices. It was the protesting tones of
Stoess which finally canght his attention.
‘‘If you're going to do anything mit der
old man, do it square,’’ he growled. ‘‘He's
old? So. Bus he’s Chonny On Der Spot.
He is no soloist, meppe, und who cares for
der cornet solos, anyway ? Bah ! Bat if you
don’t want bim any longer, tell him go,
and give him blenty time."
**We need new blood in the band,’ came
down to Fritzy’s eager ears. ‘‘Some of the
old men will have to go. There’s an Italian
here now—one of the defunct third regi-
ment’s men, He ’s stranded, and I can
olose with him for a year for almost noth-
ing. He has great execution and lots of
catohy tricks ; was up in my room for a
while this morning. I want you to try
him out at rehearsal tomorrow, and put
him on for a solo in the afternoon. Since
80 many factory people have begun to come
here, the crowd don’t wantany more Wag-
ner; we must give them ragtime and lots
of fireworks. We might as well shant
some of the old boys right now, and Spie-
gel’s being sick gives me a good excuse.
Besides, his contract ends with the month.”
When they departed, Fritzy hurried
home, miserable. He found Klug talking
to bis father. The old second fiddler bad
got an inkling of the Italian’s presence in
Clayton’s room that morning, and, with
his usual obtuseness as so results, was pour-
ing the news into the sick man’s ests.
Spiegel lay back io his obair, pallid and
distressed
“I know I'm gesting old,” Klug rattled
on volubly, ‘and I'll soon quis alreaty,
anyhow. Bat there ’s my Berny; he blays
chuss so good a second fiddle as me.”
‘“Yes; you bat a son dot can step your
shoes in,” replied Spiegel, bitterly ; “but
my son knows notting but—"’
‘“There, now, Lonis,”” interrupted Mrs.
Spiegel, peremptorily, while Fritzy slipped
out the door. It seemed to him that he
never hated roybody or anything as as that
moment he hated Berny Klug.
The alternoon concert program was al-
Nags poste} at the door of she pavilion,
and usually just after morning rehearsal.
The next morning Fritzy bung about the
place expeoting by some good stroke that
the Italian’s name was not to appear. But
when the bastily printed poster was di«-
played, Signor Ernani was prominently
featured in the first part.
He felt then that, so far as his father was
concerned, it was but the begiuning of the
end. All sort of wild schemes haurtled
throagh his little brain. He thoaghs of
every preventive plan from the burning of
the pavilion to the assassination of Clay-
ton.
Then there was the real cauve of it all—
the signor. Was there no way to reach
him ?
Suddenly lis face brightened. Oat of
all the mass of reminiscence which be had
heard his father relate, one story stood out
with remarkable clearness—the story of
how a first trumpet, dismivsed from his
Majesty's band, of which Spiegel in his
youth had been a member, played even
with his enemies.
“Is 's a lemon the dago 'll get sure
enough,” he declared, and straightway
began bis preparations to deal with the
cornet virtuoso.
II
The Signor Ernani lefs his seat in the band
and took his place beside the conductor.
He was a large man for an Italian, aod
there was a certain grand air of aggression
about his mustachios that was exceedingly
depressing to Fritzy Spiegel, who was sit
ting directly in front of him, his nose—
along with a row of other juvenile noses—
almost touching the orchestra platform.
Bo this was the fellow who was to depose
his gray-baired old father, this big, strong,
bull-necked man—his father,who had miss-
ed only one rehearsal in all the years. Such
was Clayton's reward of merit! Well, he
would see.
Stoess waved his baton, and the band
burst into the prelude. The signor, cast-
ing nonchalant black eyes over his andi-
ence, twiddled the keys of an instrument
which cost many times more than Spiegel’s
battered old affair.
And while the fiddles squeaked and the
basses boomed and the bassoons groaned,
Fritzy sat tight and fixed with eagle eye
the man whose debut he had planned to
ruin.
At last there was that ominous change in
the music which told him the prelude was
800m to degenerate into a mere acoompani-
ment. The signor twiddled his fingers
faster than ever, and for an instant fitted
the mouthpiece to his lips.
‘“‘Now, the boy told himself, was the
ar a oo, v2 Jeucion
tly for squarely on
the edge of the J Ring y
He bad planned carefully. He knew
that Stoess would have his back to the audi-
ence, and that the brass section, sitting far
in the rear, would not be disturbed by his
He knew, too, that the st
at right es to him, were not
likely to see him. they did, it mattered
little; they all lcved his father.
His blue eyes lib\ed and caught the black
ones of the solaiss, fa
Then he raised tu his mouth a big lemon,
bis savagely into the sop of it, and adwmin-
istered a prodigious suck.
The black eyes surveyed him in resent-
fal surprise.
“Rummy tum tum, rummy tum tum,’ the
prelude sounded anticipatingly.
With a grand flourish, the signor pot the
instrument to bis lips. Six beats more,
avd he was to take high C, prolong it so
the astonishment of all ordinary laongs,and
then cut capers in chromatics that would
make a steam siren sound cheap.
Oaly six beats more of largo tranquillo!
He drew his cheeks in scowlingly, rolling
them between his jaws.
Fritzy saw the peculiar movement, and
redoubled his sacking. The magic of sour-
ness was beginning to work.
Ernani tried to moisten his lips. The
embounchure, that listle conical bundle of
wuscles which forms in the middie of the
apper lip of all born-players, and which
is responsible for parity of intonation, was
like an unwieldy lump of putty.
Four beats more !
His dark face hroke into sweat, but his
mouth was as dry as a mommy's. He felt
that puckering strings were attached to
every muscle of his lips, and that all were
pulling the wrong way. He olosed his
black eves, hut the baleful vision of the
lemon and the hoy remained in them,
Twe! Ove! Stoess nodded him the
cue, and desperately the Italian forced his
dry embouchare into the mouthpiece.
In the gunick diminuendo of the other in-
strument there sounded a noise like the fiz.
zle of a bad fire-oracker.
Again it sounded and again.
was ghastly.
Stoess turned upon him in a fury.
“Sitzen, you tam fool !I'’ he hissed. *‘Sit-
zen Sie!”
Aud, obeying, the signor tottered back
and sat down.
The men were quietly directed to the
next number, and almost hefore the audi-
ence had began to wonder what had hap-
pened, the following program-fignre was
displayed, and the concert proceeded.
Fritzv, pushing the remains of the lem-
on deep into his pocket, slipped along the
aisle and out of the door.
III
Spiegel was feeling much hetter. On the
table heside his chair was the signed oon-
tract for another year with the Alhambra.
Ahout him were Klug, Meyer, Stoess, and
halt a dozen other members of the band.
Mrs. Spiegel, rosy and triumphant, was
passing the wine. Fritzy was helping her.
*‘I ohust told Clayton dos if he hired a
soloist mit nerves like an old woman's dot
£0 to pieces when a houseful of beoples is
aronnt, den he could let me go, too,” ex-
plained Stoess for the twelfth time. ‘‘Und
Clayton he say it is not a case of perves,
but dot some poy in der front row sucks a
lemon nod blays der tefil mit der dago’s
lip. But I says, ‘No. A leetle lemon do
a thing like dot!” Then he says, ‘All
right: we won't quarrel alreaty yes.’ So
he hires again Spiegel.”
The old conductor leaned back, winked
at Fritzy, and chuckled softly.
Everybody had been toasted except
Fritzy. Suoddenly Spiegel motioned the
boy to him, and pulliog him down $c hie
knee, lifted a glass.
“To mein leetie Yankee kit,”” he boom-
ed, “mit a temperature like red hot, py
chimineys !"
Then, his Ridwe still held high, he hent
and kissed his son resoundingly.—By Wil.
liam Chester Estabrook, in the Century
Magazine.
Uttlize the Poster Bed.
Those who have a collection of old-fash-
ioned farniture are lucky if they possess a
four-posted bedstead. There are varioos
forms of the four-poster, some with head
and foot-hoards. Others with only a head-
board. Reproductions which have been
made to supply the demand bave an advan-
tage over the antigue in being fitted with
box springs and hair mattresses. There
are many, however, who will not use four-
posters, claiming that draped beds are un.
sanitary, and exclude air. If the four-
poster is dressed simply in washable ma.
terial, which is laundered frequently, there
is no reason why it should nos be sanitary,
There is nothing prettier than all white for
a bed. Dimity may be used for the val-
ance, curtains (if they are not objected to,)
and ruffles. Loop the ourtains with white
bands of she same material, or with cotton
cord and tassels. Have a white dimisy
spread with ball fringe, and the curtaine at
your windows can be of the same material.
It one prefers a listle color, an effective
scheme is to drape the bed in flowered ma-
terial to match the bavgings at the win-
dows, which may he identical in pattern
with the wall paper. The material should
be such that it will withstand frequent
laundering, and be fastened in such a man.
ner as to be removed with little tronble.
The valance around the foot of the bed in
olden times was usually fastened by a tape
that was run through a bem at the top; but
the best way is to use pioture wire or a
amall brass rod.
Many of the old poster-beds were fitted
with linen sheets, patchwork quilts, and
heavy blue and white cobnterpanes. The
spread should be very large in order to hang
well over the frame of the bedstead. Be-
sides dimity, Marseilles and cretonnes are
used. The prettiest and newest are of
embroidered linen, with pillow and bolster
slips to matoh.—Shop Talk.
The Founding of the Red Cross
The signor
Henry Dunant, a Geneva philanthropist
who witnessed the battie of Solferino,
fought in 1859 hetween the allied French
and Saidiniane and the Austrians (one of
the most savguivary ccnfliots of modern
times), deemed that the woanded, and not
the soldiers who met instant death, were
the real unfortanates. The military hospi-
tals, overburdened, proved inadequate;
moet of the wounded were left in agony.
Thousands who might bave been saved by
timely help died upon the batslefield.
The Swiss philanthropist and other volun-
teers, says a writer in the current Harper's
Weekly, did all they could to relieve the
suffering, but that was com tively little.
The Genevan asked h whas could be
Sons 10 mi ie¥be Jerome o a. He
ev m ought to em, un-
til, finally, he was able to a plan
of action; this he set 1 ina pam-
phiet aalied A Souvenir of Solferino.
Dunant advocased an international so-
ciety composed of volunteer nurses, who
should hold themselves in readiness to
follow armies and aid the wounded of any
nation, to be protected by &ll nations as
pentrals and non-combatants engaged in
works of meroy. The conference that or-
ized the society was held in Geneva in
Sotaber A 1663: and by the end of Sse tol.
year thirteen governments
officially approved the sooiety’s purpose.
— Ma says that you can never tell
what a man is going to be like after he's
married any more than you can tell if a
dress is going to fit until you wear it.
Sherman and Boyd.
William Tecumseh Sherman was not
loved in the South, but there was a time
when he bad good standing in Louisiana.
When the war between the states opened,
or was about to open, W. T. Sherman was
in charge of the Lonisiana State University,
at Baton Rouge, and among those connect-
ed with him in the mavagement of the
school was David Fleming Boyd, a native
of Wytheville, Va. These men, who bad
been good friends, were separated by the
war, bus the kindly feeling for eash other
was never entirely destroyed. Boyd joined
the Confederates and rose to the rank of
major ; while Sherman, as we all know,
rose much higher on the Federal side.
During the war Boyd, with his command,
was captured by Sherman, who treated him
in a royal way, or tried to doso; but
Boyd declined to be treated except asa
prisoner. *‘‘I want to stay with my men
who were captured with me,” was his re-
ply to the entreaties of his captor. ‘‘Don’t
be a fool, Dave,” said the general ; “and if
you will not accept the best room at bead-
quarters and the choice of servants, yon
must copseut to dive with me often.”
Dave gto to this arrangement, but more
he would not do ; and Sherman, knowing
his business, knew that he would not.
“Make yourself perfectly at home,” said
the general. ‘I will not watch you or
have yon watched, as I know you will not
leave until you are regulatly ex ed.”
It was not long before Sherman needed one
of his officers who was held by the Confed-
erates, and he sent Boyd through the lines
to he exchanged for him.
When the terrible war ended, Boyd was
laced in charge of the school which had
po resided over by Sherman. The old-
time feeling of friendship cansed him to in-
vite the geveral to visit him at Baton
Rouge. He accepted and spent several
days at the school. He was advised by
men who bad not been in either army that
he was risking his life in going to Baton
Rouge. ‘*They will kil! you, general,” is
what they said ; but he simply laughed and
told them they had better keep away.
When Sherman's wife died, Boyd wrote
him a warm letter of sympathy, and re-
ceived a reply filled with tenderness for the
dead wife and of love for bis living friend,
David F. Boyd. The Sherman letter was
shown to me by Bogd. There are men who
are wide apart in their political and reli-
gious views, but who are personal friends.
When Arthur was President and Vest sena-
tor, they were close together in their friend-
ship. Arthar, in plaoning a houting or
fishing trip, would always consuls she con-
venience of Vest. He would postpone the
trip until Vest announced himself ready.
In Tennessee there were two remarkable
men who frequently exchanged courtisies.
These were Isham G. Harris and William
G. Brownlow. Harris, as war governor,
was kind to Brownlow, and even after the
war kept a soo of the ‘‘parson’’ in a good
ition for many years in Washington.
is he did despite the strenuous work of
Republicans and Demoorats to displace
Brownlow. Politically, Isham G. Harris
and William G. Brownlow had nothing in
common ; but this did not interfere with
their personal relationa.—[John W. Pau-
lett, in Nashville Christian Advocate.)
Care of Oriental Rugs.
The originai rog muss be guarded against
the attacks of moths and other insects, and
there are various ways of doing this. It
is better to leave rugs on the floor all
through the summer, cleaning them often,
and frequently exposing them to the son-
light. Bat if the house is to be closed for
any length of time there must be one of the
several excellent means employed to pre-
serve the rugs from insect attacks. One
very good method is to wrap up pieces of
camphor gum in tissue paper scatter
them over the rugs, thas are then piled one
above another with several layers of news-
paper wrapped about each rug. Another
way is to put the rugs in a oloses with an
uncorked quart bottle of chluroform, and,
closing the door, stuff paper ipto the key-
hole and cracks to make she closet air-tight.
When they are to he removed from the
oloset, the windows in the room should
first be opened.
A foolish, becanse dangerous, practice is
to cover the rugs with cloths, wet in naph-
tha. This method has caused damaging
fires and loss of life.
A rug should never be hung over a
olothesline; for, heing exceedingly heavy,
ita own weight, if it is suspended improper-
ly, will hreak the cords here and there in
the woof, letting the knote slip and »
apart. It is very important thas the long
cord, forming the selvedge, does not break.
If it does, the welt (threads that run cross.
wise) spreads, and the rog becomes so orook-
ed that it will nos lie smoothly upon the
floor; and often a three-cornered piece has
to he out out and the cut edges sewn to-
gether. This, of conrse, damages the ap-
pearance of the rug very much.— Good
Housekeeping.
First lilustrated Postage Stamp.
It is not generally known thas the idea
of printing illustrated stamps originated in
Philadelpbia. The distinction of baviog
fires ested the illustrated stamps is
be by James C. McCurdy, a railing
olerk, of 911 West Susquehanna Avenue.
Mr. McCurdy outlined bis ideas to the
Post Office Department as early as 1887. A
few years later the Columbian series of
illustrated stamps was issued and found
such favor that many other series bave fol-
lowed to commemorate important national
events. The originator of the idea treas-
ures a lester from President Cleveland's
private secretary, who acknowledged the
receipt of a copy of the original d for
illustrated postage stamps and informed
the designer that hia suggestions bad been
referred to the postmaster-general, who
later acted on them.— Philadelphia Record.
The Largest Steam Engine,
The 25,000 horse-power rolling-mill en-
gine installed in the Sharon (Pa.) plant of
the Carnegie Steel Company is the largest
steam engine in the world and weighs 550
tons without foundation plates and fly-
wheel. It operates at a speed of from 150
to 200 revolutions per minute. Being used
to operate the rolls in a steel mill, it has
to be quickly reversed at the end of each
run, and for this purpose the reversing
mechanism is run by a small independent
engine. Another small engine is used in
operating she steam throttle valves, ali of
these unite being under control of the one
engineer.— Chicago Journal.
——Gossip (noun) —talented individual
who discovers facts that aren’t so.
——Italy leads the nations of the world
in the matter of theatres.
—— A man without a smiling face must
not open a shop.
nishes butter.
The White-Talled Gnu.
This is a new animal in two senses of
the word ; is being a recent arrival at the
Washington Zoo. It is one of many ani-
mals which the keeper does not care to go
into the cage or yard with, as it does not
lose its wild inssinet, and its horns are
terrible weapons, being very sharp and
strong.
This specimen is a male about four years
old, and is four feet high at the shoulders.
The body and tail are quite like those of a
ny. e color is sooty hlack, but the
emales are lighter, and have horns like
their mates. The tufted, yellowish-gray
mane is bordered with a deep brown, and
the tail in white, with the under part of a
blackish color. The legs are very neat and
slender, and the hoofs are like those of a
deer. The borns are very large and mas-
sive at the base, where they nearly come
together in front. The nose is very broad
and flat, and the lips are supplied with
coarse, white hairs. A few bristly, white
hairs also hang just below the eyes. The
long, black hair on the nose, dewlap and
chest gives the animal a very peculiar ap-
peaniace, and looks as if the ‘‘ocropping”’
been overlooked in those places.
The gnu makes a barking snort like a
large, angry dog, and often stands almost
upright, pawing the air as he swings about
on bis hind legs—jost for amusement, I
suppose. When wild they wheel in a circle
once or twice when alarmed, before setting
off. This may be a signal of alarm, also to
ascertain if all the rest of the herd is aware
of the danger.
Io his oative bauuts his food is the same
as that of she wild borse; in Sopiviey be is,
$d in about the rame way as the domestio
orse.
Hin native home is the open country of
South Africa, where herds of from ten to
fitty are found, often associated with quag-
ga. The old males separate from the herd
in summer and lead a solitary life, lying in
a sort of lair during the day, where they
are frequently shot by the natives. The
gnu is a very wary animal, of great
and endurance. Its hide ie an article of
export in Natal.—From ‘‘Nature and
Science” in December St. Nicholas.
Tons of Beet Sugar,
One of the most important of the indus.
tries developed in recens years is the pro-
duction of sugar from sugar beets, ore
or less desultory work was done on sugar
beets as far back as 1867. In 1892 only
six factories were in operation in this coun-
try, the combined output of which was a
little more shan 27,000,000 pounds of sugar.
According to the National Magazine, there
are now no less than 64 factories in opera-
tion, with a combined output of approxi.
mately 500,000 short tors of sugar manu-
factured from beets, with o factory value of
$45,000,000.
One most important factor has been the
production of a high-grade sugar beet seed.
For many years American growers have
been dependent almost exclusively on for-
eign countries for our sugar beet seed, bus
for three or tour years past the Department
of Agriculture has been encoaraging the
successful growth of sugar beet seed in this
country. It has shown that the seed can
be greatly improved by breeding, tests of
beets from American grown seed running
as high as 17, 18 and sometimes 20 per
oent. sugar.
The Department ie also continuing in.
vestigations to determine the hest localities
for sugar beet produnotion. When we re-
member that less than one. filth of the sugar
consamed in this conuntry is produced in
the States, it is plaiu that there is abund-
ant opportunity for development, and it is
certain that wherever a sugar factory is lo-
cated labor is immediately in demand at
higher wages and the value of farm lands
increased from 25 to 50 per cent.
‘‘My face is my fortune, sir, she said.”
The old rhyme rings true io that line. The
woman who has a fair face bas a fortune
which many a man of wealth is glad to wed
for. It is a shame, therefore, to squander
the fortune provided by the fairy god.
mother, Nature. Yet, we see girls fair as
the budding roses, suddenly lose their
beauty and fade, as the rose fades when
the worm is at ite heart. Face lotions,
tonics, nervine, aud other things are tried,
bat the face grows thin and bollow. Fortu-
pate is such a young woman if some friend
should tell her of the intimate relation of
the health of the womanly organs to the
general health, and poins her to that al-
mest unfailing oure lor feminine diseases,
pread | Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Presoription. This
medicine works wondera for women in the
restoration of lost fairness. Itis a true
beantifier, restoring the womanly health,
and with health are restored the curves and
dimples, the bright eye and smooth skin
which are the charms of beauty.
—— Queen Wilkeliniva of Holland is one
of the busiest monarchs of Europe, and
never happier than when attending to af-
fairs of state. Even asa child she was
fond of asserting her anthority. One day
she sent for a certain minister and announe-
ed that she had quarreled with and dis-
missed her governess. The minister grave-
ly asked: “When does your majesty wish
her to be beheaded? Yon know it is the
custom in Holland so behead all those who
are officially disgraced. Is will be neces-
sary for your majesty to be present at the
execution, and—’'' Here the child queen
abruptly ieft the apartment and the gov-
erness was reinstated at once, — Argonaut.
Abnored Technicalities.
“Your Hour," said the lawyer, *‘I ask
the dismissal of my client on the ground
that the warrant fails to state that he hit
Bill Jones with malicious intents.”
‘‘This court,"’ replied the country jus-
tice, ‘ain't a graduate of wone of your
technical schools. I don’t care what he
i him with. The p’int is, did he hit
im?
——Gunner—Did your uncle reach a
green old
Guyer—I should say so.
He bronght a
green hat.
~——ADy man may make a mistake.
None but a fool will stick to it. Second
thoughts are best, as the proverb says.
——Clara—Stella is awfully timid, don’t
you think so ? Maude--Yes ; why, I be-
lieve she would jump at a proposal.
~The annual wear and tear on the
world’s currency is estimated at two tons
of gold and 100 tous of silver.
—We d the Chinese to show that
they inven the aeroplane 6,832 years
ago.
—— When night hath set her silver lamp
on high, then is the time for study.
—— Imitation is the sincerest flattery.
— Ready money works great cures.