So
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SmI
§Bellefonte, Pa., January I5, 1909,
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THERES A RACE OF MEN.
There's a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
Bat they're always tired of the things thatare,
And they want the strange and new.
—Robert W. Service, in The Spell of the Yukon
(Edward Stern & Co.)
———————
SEVENTEEN CANDLES.
In my studio there are many candle-
sticks, brass, iron, silver, yes! even a gold
one. They bave histories, these candle-
sticks, histories tbat some day I may re-
eouns to you. My studio is an ideal place
for candlelight : is is pillared and raftered,
and mysterious shadows bang over its en-
srances and the lissle windows in the eaves.
. « And at night, when I light she long
waxen tapers, the ghosts of ideas knock at
she door of my imagination and clamor to
be imprisoned upon fair, white paper.
Bat when the prima doona comes I do
not light candles. Then the studio bas
only the great red glare of the fireplace,
and I pile on more wood that she may for-
ges there 18 other light needed.
The prima donna does not like candles.
She tells me they remind her of the dead.
And that her golden voice may rise t¢ my
eaves, I forego my cherished tapers.
Tounighs she told me the truth.
I did not expect her. She was to have
sung Marguerite to Bassani’s Faust, but it
that a touch of bronchitis made
impossible. I was lonely and maybe
a little sad when she ascended from her
studio below; and she found me playing
““Praumerei’”’ very softly on my flute. She
enters when she wills, for my servant hus
his orders. [ did nos know of her
until my studio slowly darkened behind
me; and, as the last note of my “Tran-
merei’’ lost itself in the shadows, a light
breath over my shoulders extinguished the
candles on the music rack.
“You would not have lighted them had | a lot of tangled black hair thas shook into
you known I was to be here,” she said,and
shen she told me of the bronchitis, but re- |
sumed immediately after the subject of the |
candles. I hate them, dear poet. It is a
story—why. Bat il I tell yon, yon must
not write a poem about is. It is trae, this
story. and poetry should bave no trush in
it. Truth is ugly—don’s you find it so?”
“Since you are trash, madame, no,” I
With her wild, dark beauty she brings
me always the atmosphere of a barbarian
court over which she rules,and 1 am tempt-
ed to be stately and courtierlike. Bat it
was her night for speech, since she did not
heed me, but ran on with what she had to
say; and so I learned of the seventeen can-
dles and the girl she called Christine.
“Why I bate candles—I told you they
reminded me of the dead. Baus also of this
story. Aud that is the same thing, for
there are dead people in this, too. Janet
aod Marjory and Aunt Mary—all dead !
And Christine, %00, of whom ouly a part
died. Bat such a great part, poet !
“They were all of one family, the—
Wioklows, shall I say ? Yes, that is near
enough.
“Perhaps you do nos wish to hear this
story, but I shall tell you anyhow, since
r music has made me sad. There should
a very stern law forbidding sad music.
I would sing joyful, eprightly things that
would make them glad. There is not
enough gladness in the world. But Mas-
trini—my teacher—
“Do yoa know all of that, pret? How
he took me from the chorus of a burlesque
and for five years— ! Perhaps you do, for I
an too much of a chatterhox, I'm afraid,
“But where was I?
“Oh ! is was of Massrini, yea! H: said
I bad the soul that had suffered and that
understood, and that the great musio of the
masters was written for such as I, since
greatness is only achieved when happivess
is lost. Do you find that so ?
*But—the Wicklows—and why I do not
tike candles ! Is was of them the ‘Traa-
merei’ made me think.
“Poet, you have known of very poor
people who bore a t name and were
proud—Merciful Mother ! so prood ! That
was the way wish the Wicklows.
“You see, they had been the great
ple of the conutryside,and their family had
lived at Wicklow Hall—[or so mauy years
1 caunot remember ! But it was cards and
horses and drink and not understanding buo-
siness+—and now that last of the Wickiows
lived in the house that had once been the
Jodge-keeper’s. It was tiny ! And around
it wae a little plot of ground—maybe an
acre or xo—and there they raised cabbages
and beets and potatoes and had a grape
arbor and some strawberry beds and shree
cows--and no servants !
“They were very poor, these Wicklows,
and there were so many of them. Father
and Marjory and Jauet aud lissle Lovejoy
and Cecil—and—of conise, Christine. She
was the only one that was not sickly : the
yonngest girl, seventeen at the time [am
telling you about. And the two hove were
younger than she. The mother died when
listle Cecil was horn, and Christine unly
remembered her as very weak and white
and shrivking when father bad terrible fits
of rage because he was poor and the Man-
pingaalts had Wicklow Hall.
“Father Wicklow despised these Man.
ningaults because shey had made their
money from leather tanning. OI conse
their name was not Mauningault—nothing
hall #0 distinguished. Manningaanlt is a
name I took from an Eoglish novel Iam
reading. Do yon like it? Bat about
“They hated father too, because he would
not let them bave the chapel. The Man-
ningauits wanted the chapel and the huiy-
ing ground horribly, hu: father—that 1s,
the Wickiows’ father,you know —said that
the bones of no leather tanner should dis.
sarb the rest of his ancestors, He said it
juss like that, for he was a gentleman of
the old school—isn't that what you call
them ?—and perhaps what you mighs call
florid, too. Bus terribly in earuess !
“Is was very, very foolish of him not to
sell the chapel, because we—the Wicklows
—were 80 terribly poor, and the Man-
ningaults would have given sucha lot of
mouey for it. Bat no one could talk to
father ! Aod now that I have told you
AU6RE she Elune] I will speak of the can-
“It was a custom—a very old onsiom—
in the Wicklow family thas when one of
them died and had been placed in the vault
peo- | her meet this princely
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if
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a
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se
sEEsE
each living
the chapel wil
praying
And when one came out, another
So the whole night was spent
ed one was pot lonely. Does i
straoge to you? Baus that was
tom.
“When little Marjory died —thas is,
pot mean she was litle, because she
older than— than Christine. Not little
cause she was so young, but because
was lame and very pitifal to look at dead.
This story is really about Christine, so I
should tell you how Christine cried and
cried as she knelt belore the twenty-one
candles in that dim, damp, creepy chapel
and prayed for poor, lonely Marjory, and
thought how much dimmer and damper
and oreepier it was in shat horrible vault—
she was just twenty-one, Marjory, and
that was why they burned twenty-one can-
dles ! It was typhoid shat killed her, and
Shen she had been always frail and siok-
Y Toey were all that, I think I told you,
except Christine ! She was young
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healthy, acd she loved life and did not
care a the dead and gone Wicklows
and their glory as the others did.
““Pheir pride and their poverty made the
rest of them very unhappy, They did vot
bave any talent for anything, poor dears !
Bas they were so proud that hey looked
down on all the new wealthy people who
came to the valley. Butthe old families
came to see them and sens their servants to
buy the Wicklows’ garden truck and milk,
and so they just managed to live. Aud
sometimes the new wealthy families did,
too. Poor father—Wicklow--did not know
that often he despised those who were help-
ing him to live.
“And then Aunt Mary died ! She was
very old, and they burned fifty-two can-
dles for her. It was so expensive, for fath-
er would not have any but the best wax--
the kind they burn in churohes—but it was
their custom ! Oh! I must harry with
the deaths and get over them. Janes died,
too. She was not dear like Marjory. She
was very cross and ill-tempered. Bat then
she was the housekeeper and bad so much
to worry ber.
‘“There were nineteen candles for poor
Jauet.
““Then only Christine was left of the
girls. Christine was not a true Wicklow.
They were thin-featured and blond-baired
and cold ! Bat she was like a gipsy. Stch
an untidy mass over her brown cheeks, and
very brown eyes thas seemed black, too,
and a scarlet mouth, And soglad to be
alive that she skipped and sang all day and
never hothered about anything. She loved
to ride bareback, avd when she couldn’t
get a horse she wonld ride one of the three
cows—anything just to be riding.
**And singing! There was ap old bas-
tered spinet in the house, and she could
really make music from it. And she would
sing queer little songs that some spirit put
into her head about princes and castles and
love-making in rose gardens and—but they
did not care for that—the Wicklows. They
thought only about being the last of their
live and being buried in the chapel where
po Mauninganlt could lie.
“But Christine loved life and all things
that lived, and she loved to wander off
among the daisies on the hills and the pop-
pies horsting into crimeon bloom. Then
she would twist her little gipay self into
queer dancing shapes and sing as loudly as
she wished, for there would be no one to
complain. Apd when she bad sung and
danced until she wae tired she would throw
herself down amid the grass and the sweet-
smelling olover and thank God for a beaun-
tifal werld,
“It was one day when she sang and
picked blackberries,dancing trom one bush
to another, that she met the blue-eyed boy.
| Christine had never seen a boy like that.
He was so clean, and his collar was so
white and his nails so nice, and he took off
his cap to her with so grand a flonrish !
‘‘He was very little older than Christine.
Bat he had been to boarding school and
had spent his holidays in the great city be-
youd ; and sat in restaurants where famous
people ate their meals, and seen all she
great actors and singers and even knew
some to speak to. And as he told her of
all these things, Christine's gipsy eyes
grew big and ber scarlet month opened
wide, and he said she was his beautiful
wild flower and caught her in his arms and
kissed ber.
+A nd Christine went home, her eyes still
big at the great new happiness thas had
come into her life.
“Bat the boy was & Manninganlt, and
she knew she must be careful and never
let her father know, or he would not let
oang lover. Bus
every day she slipped even if for a very
short while, and met him in the woods.
And now she grew to be a different Chbris-
tine. She made hersell very neat and wore
white collars that she washed and ironed
herself, and ar ber taugled black
bair into ringlets and tied them with red
ribhon. Aud out there in the woods she
sang for lim, and told him of her queer
fancies, and he listened very solemnly and
told her she was wonderful. Ard then he
would recount to her more of the great
singers be had seen and about whom she
was never tired of listening. And he would
compare his love for her with the great love
stories of the operas aud the plays, and,
wicked boy ! I am afraid that many of the
heantifal things he said to her were stolen
from those same love stories.
**And so it went on for more than two
months, and both were very happy. Bat
at the end of that time his father decided
to send him to school in Germany, where
he would remain two years and not come
hank for hi« holidays.
“Two years ! Can yon imagine swo years
of separation froru the one person in all the
world that you love? Christine couldn’s.
She had heen prepared for the months that
muss pass until the Christmas holidays.
Bat two years—!
*‘And the days dragged themselves on
until it was finally the last one before he
was to go. And then Christine had a won-
derfal thought. He was going alone to the
city. There would be no one to see him
aboard ship. His fasher cculd not go ; his
mother was ill. There would be only a
servant. And so she spoke of it. And he
glimpsed a glorions twenty-four hours
alone with her in the great city. And
maybe he was a little selfish and nnthink-
ing. Bat he imagined no one would know.
And together they prepared a story to ex-
plain her absence to her people. It was
neither ingenious nor interesting. Bat to
their young minds it appeared credible.
*‘She was only seventeen, the little
Christine !
“Dear poet, you must not think her a
bad girl. She an Jon young, with a gips
soul, and she | the beaatifal boy
thought only of being alone with him for a
glorions twenty-fonr houre—a memory that
would keep green duriog his long absence.
she was to wait
and | the train for home.
what his
i
8
3
him !
**No doubt he meant it all, poet. He
was a clean boy, a good boy, 4 boy go.
lieve the future would make no alteration
in their great love for one another—their
pagan, oak-grove, natare-worshiping love !
Merciful Mother ! life is very sweet when
one is yonng and in love!
“Bat of their going—
“They went early on a starlit morning
—the morning express from the north.
They thoughts themselves quite clever ! His
father accompanied nim to the station, and
the boy did not appear to know Christine !
She was hooded and cloaked, and she slip-
ped on like a little gray sprite!
““Then began the twenty-four glorious
hours, and they did not end until early the
next morning, when she stood on the dock
and waved him a tear-stained handkerchief
until the great steamer faded from sight.
“And then, with her ticket, she hoarded
Bas she did not know,
poor little Christine, that there had been
those who had seen her meet the beantifnl
boy in the forest, and one of them a person
who had seen both take that train in the
early morning; one malicious, who bore the
old fasher a grudge, and who carried
im a tale that by homoling that pride
would even his score.
“The home-coming ! Dear poet,youn shall
soon know why it is I hate candles. And
perhaps you will never play sad masio
again when I am here—
“It was dark that night,and frosty; dim
blue above and white under feet, with the
stars little frozen eyes and the bare hlack
trees like skeletons. Aud when she came
to the base of she hill, she saw lights in the
chapel.
“Lights !
“That could meav but one thing—can-
dles for thedead ! For the moment she
wes as frozen as the ground. Someone
dead ! Then she axked herself how that
might be. One conld not die and be buried
and have candles baroing for him all in
twenty-four hours ! .
‘The tears were very warm on her cold
face, poet, when she thought thas while
she had been so happy another of those
poor, sad ones in the lodge keeper's house
bad gone into thas great gloomy vault with-
out even a look from her. She would re-
main in the chapel all night and pray, pray
for forgiveness.
“And who, who could it be ?
“Bas she remembered that by the num-
ber of candles she would know; and so she
pushed open the door of the chapel very
softly, for she kuew the custom and ex-
pected that someone would be kneeling
there praying for the poor, lonely ove in
the vaals.
“It was all dark and shadowy within,
save for the flickering candles before the
Merciful Mother at the shrine. And no
one knelt to pray for the soul that was
gone !
*‘She did not understand.
“Never before had there been a Wicklow
to die without those to pray belore the can
dles. Aud at first she was afraid, thinking
of evil spirits. Then slowly she tiptoed to
the shrine.
“Phere were not many candles. Her
father still lived, then. There were too
many for little Lovejoy, who was only
pine. Could it be Cecil ?
“She closed her eyes. She did not want
to know at once. And her face was warm
with a gush of tears as she prayed for for-
giveness. Somehow, her happiness seem-
ed a crime—a terrible thing to have been
hers, when one of her kin bad gone the sad
way of the hopeless.
“‘And when she bad prayed, she opened
her eyes and conated. And the tears seem-
ed to freeze upon ber face.
““There were seventeen candles !
“‘She did not understand how it had bap-
pened, but she knew that ehe might never
return to her home ! She might not argue,
por plead, vor lie. She was a Wicklow,
and, because of the custom. candles had
been burned for her roul. Bot it was a lost
sou! and po one had come to pray for it.
“Poet, she was ouly a child.
“Perhaps it was a long time before she
understood the brutal finality of those
seventeen white tapers with the golden
tongues waving above them. Bat, under-
standing, she remembered herselt a Wick-
low, remembered that none before had died
who had not had prayers #aid for the soul.
And since Christine was dead, she.a Wick-
low, knelt and prayed for the poor woul
that the ushers had believed lost and had
lefs to the stern justice of the merciless God
they worshiped.
“And when she had prayed for an hour,
as was the onstom, she wens ont of the
chapel, leaving the seventeen candles barn.
ing for the child Christine that was dead
behind her; and a woman new-horn, turn-
ed her face to the city.
“And so, dear poet, Ido not like can-
dies—and I would not have yon play your
“Traumerei’ again. God and the masters
have said I shall sing sad mosio—but my
friends shall make me gay. And that I
may forget the long ago, and the child
Christine, dead hack there in the chapel —
play me the ‘Fanst’ ballet music, and then
[ will sing you a little laughing song be-
fore I say good night.” —By George Broo-
son Howard in the Smart Set.
Out of Doors in Japan.
As for the country, I wouldn’t dare to
attempt a description. Sometimes I joss
ache with the beauty of itall! Frem my
window I can wee in one group banava,
pomegranite, persimmon and fig trees all
loaded with fruit. The roses are still in
full bloom, and color, color everywhere.
Across the river, the banks are lined with
picturesque houses that look out from a
mass of green, and ahove them are tea-
houses, and temples and shrines so old that
even the moss is gray, aud time bas worn
away the dates upon the stones.
It was a perfect day. The plum trees
were white with blossoms, the spice bushes
heavy with fragrance, the river dancing for
joy, and the whole earth springing into
pew, tender life. A saunoy little bird sat
on an old stone lantern, and sang straight
at me. Hetold me | was a whiney young
person ; that it was lots more fan to cateh
worms, and fly around in the sunshine
than it was to «it in the house and mope.
— [The Lady of she Decoration.
— Harry—It I bad known the elestric
light was out aod the car would
he in darkness I would bave snatched a
kiss.
Sae—Heavens! I thought you did. Any-
how, somebody did.
—— Doctor—To the best of my judgment
yon are suffering from gastritis,
Patient—I know is. I got it in the cel-
lar fooling with the gas-meter.
ow
| The Christ of the Andes.
The first anviversary, Match 13, 1905, of
the og of the colossal statne of Chriss
on Andean border hetween Chile and
the Argentine Republic, 14,000 feet above
the sea, has recalled the unique and im-
pressive events which led to the erection of
tuis remarkable peace monument. The
ng . | story of this series of events is substantial.
scious of the joy of living, and apt to be-
ly as follows:
Five years ago these two prosperous and
high-spirited republics of Soath America
were on the verge of war. They were in-
creasing their armaments to the utmost of
their abilisv. They had each swo gigantic
warships of she latest pattern building in
the shipyards of Europe. They were spend-
ing incredible sums of mooey upon these
preparations for war, mmonoting, as was
reported at the time, to five dollars aonnu-
ally per capita of their population.
What brought them so near to conflict
was the revival of an old dispute which
had caused much trouble and expense in
the past, about the houndary between
them ou the Andes, a controversy involv.
ing the question of the title toahous eighty
shousand square miles of territory, The
dispate had neen rendered more acute by
the discovery that in the Patagonia section
the houndary was not continuously mark-
ed by monntain crests, and that there were
valuable rivers in the region sending their
waters through she bills so the sea on the
Chileav side. This discovery bad cansed
Chile to put forward unexpected claims to
certain part of the region.
The British Ministers residing at Boenos
Ayres and Santiago used their good offices
with the two governments to prevent the
calamity of war and to secure a peaceful
settlement of the dispute. This effort to
prevent hostilities was powerlally sapport-
| ed by Dr. Marcolino Benavente, Bishop of
Sau Joan de Cayo. Argentine, aod Dr.
Ramon Angel Jara, Bishop of San Carlos
de Ancud, Chile. On Easter Sunday, 1900,
during the festival of the Catholic Church
at Buenos Ayres, Bishop Bevavente made
a fervent appeal in behalf of peace, and
proposed that some day a statoe of Christ
should be plac-d on the Andean border be-
tween the two countries, where it might
be seen by all comers and goers, and pre-
vent, if possible any recurrence of animos-
ity and strife besween the two republics.
The two hishops traveled throngh their |
countries addressing crowds of men in the
towns and villages. Toney were sustained
by the local elergy and hy the women, who
labored enthusiastically for the policy of
peace. Petitions were sent to the legisla-
tures, and through these the executives
were reached.
The result was that a treaty was entered
into by the two governments, sabmitting
the controversy to the arbitration of the
King of England. He entrusted the case
to eminent jurists and expert geographers,
who examined it caretally, and io due
time submitted their decision, awarding a
pars of the disputed territory to one of the
republics and a pars to the other. The de:
cision was cheerfully accepted by hoth.
Much gratified with the ontcome of the
arbitration, aud orged forward by a power-
ful popular movement, the two goveru-
ments then went further, and in June,
1903, concluded a treaty by she terms of
which shey pledged themselves for a period
of five years to submit all controversies
arising between them to arbitration, the
first general arbitration sreaty ever consiud-
ed. Ina further treaty they agreed to
reduce their armies to the proportions of
police forces, to stop the building of the
great battleships then under construction,
ai Jo dimivish he Armaments
whioh they already .
The provisions of these treaties, which
have now been in force nearly two years,
were carried out as fast as practicable. The
land foroes have been reduced, the heavy
ordnance taken off the war vessels, and
several of the vessels of the marine turned
over to commercial fleets. Work on the
foar great warships was immediately ar-
rested, and some of them bave been sold.
One or two of them, unfortunately, went
into the Japanese fleet off Port Arthar, in
spite of the fact that both governments had,
in the treaty, pledged themselves not to
sell any ships to nations engaged in war.
The vessels were boaght under disguise by
a firm in New York, and then tarned over
to Japan; after which neither of the wov-
ernments would sell any vessels to either
Russia or Japan.
The results of this disarmament—for it
is a real disarmament—have been most re:
markable. With the money saved by the
lessening of military and naval expenses,
internal and coast improvements have heen
made. Good roads bave heen constructed.
Chile has surned an arsenal into a school
for manual training. She is boildinga
much needed breakwater in the harbor of
Valparaiso, and has commenced systemati-
cally the improvement of ber commercial
facilities along the coast One or two of
Argentine’s previous war vessels have gone
into her commercial fleet and are vow ply-
ing back and forth across the Atlantic in
honorable and lucrative business. The
great trans Audean railway through the
hears of the monntaine, which will bring
Buenos Ayres and Santiago within eighteen
hours of each other and bind them together
in the most intimate relations of trade aud
travei, will he completed the year.
But more significant than any of these
material results has been the change in the
attitade of the Argentines and Chileans
toward each other. All the old “bitterness
and distrast have passed awav, and the
most cordial good feeling avd confidence
bave taken their place.
The suggestion of Bishop Bevavente as
to she erection of a statue of Christ on the
houndary ot Puente del Inca was quickly
carried into exeontion. As early as 1901,
on the initiative of Senora de Costa, presi-
dent of the Christian Mothers’ Association
of Baenns Ayres, one of the largest wom-
en's organizations in the world, the women
of Boenos Avres, who had already mani-
fested the deepest interest in the new move-
mens, undertook the task of securing fonds
aod having a statue created. The work
was entrusted to the young Argentine
sculptor, Mateo Alonso. When his design
was completed and aocepted, the statue
was cast at the arsenal of Buenos Ayres
from old cannon taken from the ancient
fortress outside of the city.
It was more than a vear from the time
that 1t was cast until it was placed in ite
destined position. On May 21, 1903, the
Chilean representatives, bearing the trea-
ties for final ratification, came by sea to
Buenos Ayres. They were met down the
river and escorted to the city by a large
flees of gaily decked steamers. For a week
there was a round of festivities. When the
treaties were finally signed on the 28th of
May, Senora de Costa invited all the
dignitaries present—oabivet officials, for.
eign ministers, bishops, newspaper men,
generals, admirals, eto.—to inspect the
statue of Christ in the courtyard of the col-
lege, and standing at its foot with the dis-
tinguished audience about her she pleaded
that is might be on the highest ac-
cessible point of the Andes between the
two countries.
|
|
It was pot till in February, 1904, that
the final steps were taken for ite erection.
It was carried by rail in buge crates
from Buence Ayres to Mendoza, then on
gun carriages up the mountains, the sol-
i ave To wn
ropes in , where was
danger of the mules stumbling. Hundreds
ot petsotss hud count up the night before
encamped on the ground to be present
at the ceremony. The Argentines ranged
themselves on she soil of Chile and the
Chileans on the Argentine side. There
was music and the booming of gons, whose
echoes resonnded through the mountains.
The moment of unveiling, after the parts
bad heen placed in position, was one of
solemn silence. The statue was then ded-
icated to the whole world as a practical
lesson of peace and goodwill. The cere-
movies of the day, March 13, 1904, were
closed, as the san went down, witha
prayer that love and kindness wight pene-
trate the hearts of men everywhere. *
The base of the statue is in granite. On
this is a granite sphere, weighing some
fourteen tons, on which the outlines of the
world are sketched, resting upon a granite
column twenty-two fees high. The fgare
of Christ above, in brovze, is twenty-six
feet in height. The cross ssupported in his
lefs hand is five feet higher. The right
hand is stretched out in blessing. On the
granite base ure two bronze tablets, one of
them ginen by the Workingmen’s Union
of Baenos Ayres, the other by the Work-
ing Women. Ooe of them gives the record
of the creation and erection of the statue;
on the other are inscribed the words:
“Sooner shall these mountains crumble into
dust than Argentines and Chileans break the
peace to which they have pledged themselves at
the feet of Christ the Redeemer.”
It is not easy to compare events and say
which is the greatest. But taking it all
inali, the long quarrel of seventy years
which it closed, the arbitration of the
boundary dispute, the general treaty of
arbitration end the practical disarmament
which preceded it, the remarkable trans-
formation of public opinion expressed in
its consummation, and the sublime proph-
eoy of peace for the future which it gives
not only for Chile and Argentine bat for
the whole world, the erection of the Christ
of the Andes stands without parallel among
the events of recent years.
How Perfumes are Made,
Glass sheets held by frames a few inches
apart are smeared rather shickly with lard
aud between these sheets the freshly picked
blossoms are scattered, touching the frames
hut not being pressed by them. In one
day the oil of the flowers exudes, and the
lard ahsorbs the precious drops. If the
flowers are plentiful they may be changed
as often as every six hours, and in the case
of jonquils thirty times; jasmine is usually
changed eighty times before the layers of
lard are entirely saturated. When the
lard has absorbed as much oil as possible
from the flowers, it is melted and dissolved
in purified alcohol made from grain. When
shis mixture is filtered, the concentrated
extract may be redissolved in spirits, dilot-
ed, or mixed with other oils according to
the strength or quality desired.
Attar of roses aud veroly, the base of ean
de cologue,are made by a different method.
The perfame may be extracted by an ordi-
vary process of distillation if a very even
heat is maintained, but the asoal method
is the bain marie. A large kettle of lard ie
immersed in a tub of water at the boiling
poius until the grease reaches a unniform
temperature and ie entirely melted. Into
this warm lard the petals of orange blos-
soms or of roses are thrown. The petals
remain a day or less in this bath, then
the inodorous wilted flowers are removed
and fresh ones submerged until the mix-
ture attains the desired strength. The
women beat the mizture into a cream.
After the pomade is made, the oil may be
shipped in this state, or distilled and sold
in its concentrated form as attar of roses
or neroly, or diluted to the strength of
“‘perfame’’ or eau de cologne.
Twenty thousand pounds of rose petals
are required to make one pound of attar
of roses, valued at about $200. A thous-
and pounds approximately ol the petals of
the flower of the hitter orange are neces:
sary to make a pound of neroly, valued at
$20 on an average.—The World Today, lor
Javuary.
Modeling in Snow.
Daring the cold winter months one often.
longs for something to doous of doors on
such days as the weather permits spending
the time in the open air. Ol coarse, there
is skating and coasting, and, if one is iv-
slined to photograph, and has a camera,
there are all kinds of winter tcenes that
will make good subjects. There are: enow-
laden weeds that in their old-uew condi-
sion are truly beautiful ; then there is the
history of a struggle for existence among
the feathered or fur covered tribes. May-
be it is a battle, or perhaps is is only the
tracks left in she snow by some animal
bunting a meal.
Bat did you ever try modeling snow ?
asks R. L. Walker, in Sabarban Life. It
is an interesting pastime. [do not wean
the makivg of an ordinary snow-man, such
as the boys form hy putting ove large
snowball oc another, with a coople of
pieces of coal for eyes. I mean downright
serious work. Just as good modeling can
he done in snow as in clay. In Berlin,
Germany, nearly every winter, many
prominent artists go to one of the parks,
where they reprodnce all kinds of things in
snow ; and when the work is complete the
public is invited to attend the exhibition,
a amalll fee being charged, and the pro-
ceeds given to a charitable institution.
Snow modeling is an occupation which
auy one, old or young, will enjoy. Few
tools are necessarv—a shovel to pile the
snow together, and a stick or dull kuife
with which to shape the object.
—————
Don't Butcher Your Trees
Writing in Suburban Life for December
J. Horace McFarland, president of the
American Civio Association savas: ‘There
i* a prevalent idea that sbade trees need
trimming. It is a wrong idea, based, prob-
ably, on the fact that certain froic trees
bear better if judiciously and skillfally
trimmed. Fruit trees, in the modern
sense, are purely artificial in their produc.
tion, and the trimming i* a part of the di-
version of energy from natare’s plan of
frait, merely to carry seed, to man's plan
of frais for food.
In the case of shade trees, no sush diver- |
sion is vecessary or desirable. To have
naturally heautiful trees, each kind of its
own beanty, allow nature to make those
trees in her own way. It is more than
foolish—it is wicked —to allow an iguo-
rant wood butcher to say what the form of
God’s trees shall be.”
——————————
——Rode Walker—I say, Sam, what do
yu want done with your hody when yon
€
Appetite Sam—Same as I'd like to have
done with it now. Stuffed.
How the United States Acquired
Alaska,
Editor Watchman :
If you will look at any map of North
America, nos less thao fifty years old, you
will observe that the conutry now called
Alaska, was then called Raossian America,
becanse it then belonged to Russia.
Sometime ago I met a man who had just
returned from Alaska. He told me many
new and strange things about that far dis-
tant country.
Io the conrse of our conversation, the
question arose : How did we get shat coun-
try ? Neither of us knew, and I asked sev-
eral men who claim to be well informed,
but pone of them koew any more about
the matter than myself. I then betook
myself to encyclopedias and other works of
reference, and to the Lile of William H.
Seward, and on a somewhat careful ran-
sacking, learned substantially as follows:
During Buchanan's administration, and
more especially the latter part of is, our
war ships were gent far away, and scatter-
ed here and there.
There was a purpose in this. The South
was getting ready for war. This ‘‘pur-
pose” was to leave the southern ports open
for blockade ronvers to come and go as
they pleased, and at the same time leave
the northern ports open for war vessels of
any foreign country that mighs feel dispos-
ed to come and assist the South.
Io that dark time in our country’s trial,
our old time friend, Russia, came to our
aid, by sending a fleet of war vessels, which
laid off the coass of Maine for a long time.
When all danger was past—avd not be-
lore—that fleet was called home.
It ie a matter of history, that it was not,
and is not now generally known that a
powerful friend wae lying close at hand,
aod virtually in hidiog.
After the war was over, Russia asked to
be paid for ber outlay. We bad nothing
to pay with. Our war debt had piled
moontain high. Roesia did nos like to
talk out loud abont the claims, but she
was ‘hard up’ for money. Her states-
men, sort of ‘under the hat'’ entered into
an arrangement with William H. Seward,
who was Secretary of State, for the pur-
ohase of Russ’an America, which Russia
wanted to get off her hands. Finally a
dicker was made, for a consideration of
seven million two hundred thousand dol-
lars, and all talk ceased about paying the
debt or claim for sending the war ships to
aid us in case of need.
Thus have I given your readers an item
of history not generally known, and which
I bave gleaned from authentic sources.
I desire in conclusion to say, that while
I was searching authorities for above facts,
that I read of some of the distinguished
services in behalf of his country, by Penn-
sylvania’s great War Governor, when he
was Minister to Russia.
Respectfully,
DANIEL MeBRIDE.
Omaba. Neb., Dec. 14, "0€.
[Nore—The statement mada by onr correspond-
ent that the American Navy had been purposely
scattered to leave our own ports open to blockade
running and at the mercy of other Nations, is a
purely political myth, It was circulated by thoss
who had brought on, and were to a
peaterul settlement of the difficulties immediate.
after the bombardment of Fort Sumpter, for
the purpose of discrediting the Buchanan admin.
istration and intensifying the bitterness between
the North and the South.—[Ep. Warcnmax.]
Free. Dr. Pieroe’s Common Sense Med-
ical Adviser, containing 1008 pages, is sent
free on request. This great work discusses
questions of vital interest to every one,
married or single. It is sent absolutely
free on receipt of stamps to pay expense of
mailing only. Send 21 one-cent stamps for
er covered book or 31 stamps for the
al on in strong and handsome cloth
So . Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo,
M. H. Peters, M. D., of No. 124 East
120th Street, New York, N. Y., a physi-
cian who has had forty years praotioe,
writes of the Medical Adviser as follows :
¢ consider it a valoable work for the use
of all the young. It is so explicit that
voung men or women who have not bad
the opportunity of being educated will
readily comprehend and glean from its con-
tents gems to proteot their health; and
may, as age comes on, refer to it with
gladness. The young mother will also
learn lessons to assist her. So many
young mothers are ignorant in every de-
tail as to the care of their offspring.”
————
——John and Mary had been sharing
ane chair all the evening. John sas on the
chair, and Mary on John.
After about three hours of this, Mary
suddenly exclaimed: “Oh, Joho, aren’t
yon tired®"’
John smiled a brave patient smile.
“Not now,” he said gently. ‘‘No, not
now. I was abont an hour ago, but now
I'm only paralyzed!”
——**My dear friend, I must ask you to
lend me at once a dollar; [ bave left my
purse at home, and haven’t a cent in my
pockes. ’
I can’t lend you a dollar jast now, but
can put vou iu the way of getting the
woney at once.”
“You are extremely kind.”
‘‘Here’s a nickel; ride bome co the oar
and get your purse.”
Pimples
Ate looked upon generally only as an
annoying disfigurement, something to be
got rid of in some way as speedily as possi.
ble. Bat the pimple is only a symptom,
and though the symptom be suppressed the
disease is anaffected. Pimples, blotches,
eruptions, are the sigue of bad blood. Make
she hlood pure and the pimples will go
away and the skin become clear and
smooth. The blood can be cleansed per-
f-otly hy the use of Dr. Pierce's Golden
Medical Discovery. It pushes out of the
body the waste matter which corrupts the
blood. It increases'the blood supply, and
enriches every vein with a fall flow of rich,
purs blood. When the blood 18 pure the
skin diseases, which are caused by impure
blvd, are natueally and permanently
cared.
——The Wife—John, you're intoxioat-
ed. How did you find your way home?
. The Husband—My darliog, your t
‘eyes would light me home if I were §
j ns fall sam Dow.