Belletonte, Pa., February 11, 1916.
THE LITTLE WOMAN.
One of the Little Women, she came up to Heav-
en’s gate;
And seeing the throng was pressing, she sighed
that she fain would wait.
“For I was not great or noble,” she said, “I was
poor and plain;”’
And should I go boldly forward, I know it would
be in vain.”
She sat near the shining portal, and looked at
the surging crowd
Of them that were kings, and princes, of them
that were rich and proud;
And sudden she trembled greatly, for one with a
brow like flame
Came to her, and hailed her gladly, and spoke to
her her hame:
“Come, enter the jeweled gateway,” he said “for
the prize is thine;
The work that in life you rendered was work
that was fair and fine;
So, come, while the rest stand waiting, and enter
in here and now—
A crown of the life eternal is waiting to press
thy brow.”
Then trembled the Little Woman, and cried: “It
may not be I!
Here wait they that wrought with greatness, so
how may I pass them by?
I carved me no wondrous statues, I painted no
wondrous things.
1 spoke no tremendous sayings that rang in the
ears of kings.
“I toiled in my little cottage, Ispun and I baked
and swept;
Isewed and I patched and mended—oh, lowly
the house I kept!
I sang to my little children, I led them in worthy
ways,
And so I might not grow famour, I knew nought
but care-bound days.
“‘So was it by night and morning, so was it by
week and year;
1 worked with my weary fingers through days
that were bright or dregr:
And I have grown old and wrinkled, and I have
grown gray and bent;
I ask not for chants of glory, now that I have
found content.”
“‘Arise!” cried the waiting angel,
“Come first of the ones that wait,
For you are the voices singing, for you do we ope
the gate;
So great has been thy labor, so great shall be thy
reward!”
Then he gave the Little Woman the glory of the
Lord.
—Chicago Evening Post.
THE MAN AT WASHINGTON.
A STORY OF THE WAR.
“Tell us a story, Uncle Timothy.”
Old Timothy wasn’t really our uncle,
but we boys in Old Middleton called him
uncle.
“Lord! ha'n’t ye boys got y’r fill 0’ sto-
ries yet? D’you ’spose I ¢’'n think up a
story for ye every day?”
“Tell us a story about the war,” we
said.
A gleam shot into the gray eyes. Old
Timothy liked to talk about his soldier
days.
“We was pretty scared those first days,”
he said, with a reminiscent grin; “pretty
scared—some of us. The fellers that
turned out t’ be the bravest in the long
run was ’bout the most scared of any of
us, I guess. I wan’t as scared as some,”
he added, hastily, lest we should think
he boasted unduly, “but I was pretty
scared. Cap’n Tucker was scareder than
I was; an’ Cap'n Tucker was the bravest
soldier Old Middleton sent to the war.
‘Tim,’ says he to me, pale as a sheet the
mornin’ Bull Run was fought—‘Tim, I'm
goin’ home. 1 won’t stay here t’ be shot.
*Tain’t right—an’ Sunday too!’
“He stayed, though—Ilong’s the rest of
us; which wa'n’t long 'nough to brag
about.” The old eyes twinkled.
“So ye want a story ’bout the war?
Well, mebbe I ¢'n tell ye one. ‘Tain’t
much of a story’s I know of, an’ ’tain’t
reely ’bout the war, nuther.”
He was silent so long we began to
think he had forgotten he was to tell a
story. His jaws worked very slowly dur-
ing the pause, but finally spatting out his
tobacco cud, he said: “D’jer ever read
hist’ry, boys? Ef ye have, ye prob’bly
‘ve read ’bout Bull Run. As I said be-
fore, a good many of us got consid’rably
scared that Sunday, an’ Washin’ton look-
ed good to us. ’Long pretty early Mon-
day mornin’ some of us crossed Long
Bridge into the city. It hadn’t been
what you'd call a reel orderly retreat,
an’ when we got into the capital we
didn’t all keep together quite’s ye might
expect an army would. In fact, we was
consid’rably scattered. I did’t know jest
where the rest of my company was, an’
Ithought I might’s well look round a
bit before huntin’ ’em up. I hadn’t ever
been in Washinton, ’cept t’ jest march
through, an’ I'd al’ayvs wanted to see the
Capitol an’ White House, an’ some of the
other show places. Isaid to myself, Ef
I don’t see ’em now, mebbe I never’ll get
to see ’em, for like’s not the rebs ’ll be
here ina few days an’ burn the hull
blame town.’
“I'd been down to take a look at the
Washin’ton Monument—’twas only a
little stub of a monument then, though
it looked pretty sizable to me—an’ was
cuttin’ back ’cross lots, when I saw
a feller walkin’ ’long kind o’ dejected
like, an’ not payin’ tention to anything.
He an’ I was the only persons round
there, an’ I looked him over pretty sharp
‘cause he was kind o’ queer-lookin,” an’
kind o’ queer-actin’ too, it seemed t° me.
He was ’bout the lankiest feller I'd ever
set eyes on, an’ kind o’ teetered as he
walked, the way some old backwoods
fellers does. He had on some black
clo’es that didn’t fit him any better ’n
mine do me, which ain’t sayin’ much.
“I didn’t realize till I got up near what
a powerful tall man he was. He was
taller n’ Cap'n Tucker, an’ Tucker's six
feet three in his stockin’s.
“I saw him lookin’ at me, but he didn’t
see me.
thinkin’ mighty deep bout somethin’ an’
was lookin’ in on what he was thinkin’
‘bout, ’stead o’ out at what was goin’ on
round him. But after a minit he seem-
ed t’ kind o’ wake up. ‘Are you a sol-
dier?’ he asked, lookin’ at my clo’es. I
thought he. was jest inquis'tive an’
s’spposed he was prob’bly some feller in
visitin’ the capital—a minister, like’s not,
jedgin’ by his clo’es an’ his kind o’
sober, absorbed look.
“Ye know, boys, when I left Old Mid-
dleton for the war I was pretty proud o’
being a soldier. Some o' the fellers that
hed al’ays acted 's ef they thought they
was better’n the restof us hadn't 'nlisted;
What I mean is, he was busy | d
an’ we fellers c’'u’d hold our heads up
higher ’'n they c’'u’d those days. Well,
that mornin’ I wasn’t feelin’ quite so
proud, but when he spoke I cherked up
an’ answered kind o’ lofty, ‘Yes, I'm a
soldier.’
“ ‘On leave of absence?’ he asked, his
voice sort 0’ quiet.
“ ‘Well—temp'rary leave.” 1 said. Ef
he was a minister, I didn’t know’s he
had any right to know what kind o’
leave I was on.
“ ‘I reckon,’ he said, with what 'u’d ’a’
been a little chuckle ef his eyes
hadn’t been so powerful solemn—1I ‘ reck-
on you was in the battle yesterday, an’
got y'’r leave the same way some the oth-
er men did. Got it from the enemy,
didn’t you?’
“I clu’d see from his look, even ef he
didn’t smile, xcept underneath, an’ even
“I tell ye, boys, he put up a mighty
i pow’rful argument in defense o’ minis-
i ters, an’ I b’gan t’ feel a good ’eal asham-
ed of myself for what I'd said. But I
: hed t’ kind 0’ face it out, not bein’ one
; t’ back water in a hurry, so I said—an’
honest, boys, I felt ‘shamed myself when
: I was sayin’ it—I said: ‘Well, I don’t
, see’s you stayed home, 'r 'nlisted, either
.one.” I've always had a sharp tongue,
| boys, an’ I've always hated myself when-
: ever I've used it. But seem’s though the
devil getsinto me sometimes, an’ I have
to say things that I know are downright
mean an’ contempt’ble.. He didn’t get
; mad, but just answered ’ith a sort o’
' quiet dignity, ‘You mustn't jedge by
; ’pearances.’ :
“The way he said it made me see that
. somehow I'd jumped t’ the wrong con-
‘ clusion, though jest how I c’'u’dn’t make
ef he was a minister, that he c’'u’dtake a | out. Ef he wasn’t a minister, tourin’
joke, so I answered, ‘Well, yes, the rebs
did give me p’rmission to leave—temp-
rarily.’
“I hope,” he said, lookin’ solemner
than any one c’u’d imagine ’thout seein’
him—‘[ hope it’s only temp’rary. You
are goin’ back to y’r company ain’t you?’
* “You bet Iam,’ I said, ‘soon’s ’nough
of ’em gets together again t’ callit a
company.’
“‘Well,” he said, serious, back of his
queer smile, ‘the sooner you an’ some
the others get back, the sooner there’ll
be a company f’r you to get back to. I
wouldn’t loaf too long b’fore goin’ back,
ef I was you.’
“Then he asked, ‘Was it pretty bad up
front yesterday?’ I never seen a man
liven up so, when I b’gan t’ tell ’bout it. |
“ I guess,’ I said, ‘you'd thought ’twas
pretty bad ef you'd been there. How'd
you like t’ stand up an’ let a hundred ’r
thousan’ men shoot at you?’
“He shook his head, but didn’t say
nothin.” His sayin’ he wouldn't loaf too
long ef he was me had riled me some,
an’ made me a little peppery. Ministers
had made me kind o’ mad. They'd talk-
ed a hull lot bout the other feller’s duty
—how he oughter ’nlist an’ all that, but
I hadn’t seen many of ’em ’nlistin’ them-
selves; so I says, ‘Guess you wouldn't
liked it any better 'n we did. An’I
guess ef you'd been there, you’d ’a’ run
as fast as any us—faster, ’ith those long
legs o’ yourn!’
“‘Yes,’ he said, kind 0’ slow, an’ medi-
tatin,’” ‘I might ’a’ run; I don’t know. I
don’t b’lieve I sh’d stayed there alone
an’ fought ’em single-handed, Thats
what I’d had t’ done ef Id been there an’
hadn’t run, ain’t it?’
“That seemed ¢’ be sort o’ castin’ re-
flections on the army —leastwise the
part that was at Btll Run, so I didn’t
answer d’rect. ’'Stead I said, a leetle tes-
ty, ‘It's easy ’nough fr you fellers ’at
wan’t in it to laugh at us who was.’
“‘I wasn’t laughin’, he says, quiet an’
perfectly honest; ‘I feel much more like
cryin’ about it.’
“ “You're a preacher, ain’t ye?’ I asked.
“He looked at me kind o’ queer. ‘Why,
mebbe I have preached some,’ he said,
a 20d, ‘’Tain’t anything to be ’sham-
ed of.’
“‘No,’ I said, still thinkin’ ’bout some
those ministers back home, ‘preachin’
ain’t nothin’ to’ be ‘shamed of; but ef I
was a minister, an’ my country needed
me t’ fight for it, I b’lieve when the
Pres’dent called for volunteers I sh’d
‘nlist, ’stead o’ stayin’ back home an’
tellin’ the other fellers ‘twas their duty
to ’nlist.’
“F’r minit he seemed t’ be thinkin,’
deep like, an’ then he said: ‘I like the
patriotic sentiment in y’r speech, sir,’—
in his kind o’ melancholy manner was a
dignity that b’gan to impress me more
'n’ more—I like that; but I don’t like
y’r implied slur on ministers. I don’t
say ’tain’t natural you sh’d feel that way.
But ef you was to think it over a little, |
I'm sure you'd see it in a’ different light.
Now, I don’t b’lieve ministers are any
bigger cowards than merchants ’r nie-
chanics 'r any other men. Some min-
isters I've met was as brave as any men
I've ever known. As a class I don’t
b’lieve they’d be any more ’fraid o’ get-
ting shot than any other class. An’,
d’you know, ’twould take considerable
courage for a brave minister—I mean a
physically brave one who wa’n’t afraid o’
bein’ shot —to stay away from the war
an’ keep tellin’ other men they oughter
go. Ministers ain’t fools, an’ they'd
know how you an’ other volunteer men
‘wd be talkin’ about ’em. So I say ’tw’u’d
take a pretty high order o’ courage f'r a
physically brave man t’ stay home under
those conditions. But s’pose his con-
science told him t’ stay. S’pose he was
eager to go t’ the front as any one, but
duty held him back. S’pose he knew
there was wives an’ sweethearts left at
home w’u’d need all the strength an’
comfort religion c'u’d give ’em in their
loneliness, an’ in their dread—their awful
dread for the dear ones in the field.
Don’t you s’pose wives an’ sweethearts
back home—mebbe you've got a wife ’r
sweetheart y’rselfi—don’t you s’pose they
lie awake in the awful blackness of
night, ’ith eyes wet, thinkin’ of the hus-
band ’r lover hundreds of miles from
home, hungry, ’r cold, ’r mebbe sick, in
strange camps? Don’t you s’pose, when
day comes after sleepless nights, those
wimmen folks need all the strength and
comfort religion can give ’em? An’ don’t
you s’pose the ministers—brave, right-
minded ministers—know it?
“‘An,” my friend’—there was tears 'in
the big man’s eyes—‘some who was wives
yesterday are widows today, some who
had lovers yesterday are loverless today;
an’ the number of widows, an’ of maidens
made loverless, will grow an’ grow. For
I realize today, as never before, that this
is goin’ to be a dreadful war, an’ much
blood—very much blood—will be shed
before it is ended.” His voice sort o’
broke, an’ he stopped t’ blow his nose.
“‘Don’t you see, my friend,” he went
on, ‘that some the worst sufferin’ in the
hull war is bound to be back in the
homes the soldiers left, ’mong the wim-
men an’ children—poor little children?
An’ don’t you s’pose the ministers have
foreseen it all, an’ know the teachin’s o’
the Great Comforter ’Il be needed back
in those stricken homes? An’ who's to
give these bereaved an’ sorrowin’ ones
the solace of religion, ef the ministers
leave an’ go to the front? What 'u’d you
o, brave man as I've no doubt you are,
ef you was a minister, an’ saw y’r duty
as I've pointed it out? W’u’dn’t you be
brave enough to see t’ be a coward in
the eyes of the thoughtless, an’ stick
there at y’r post where duty pointed?
‘Course you would. Any man brave
'nough t’ volunteer, as you did, would.
“‘Then again’—his voice changed a
little—‘don’t you see he serves his coun-
try well ef he induces men to ’nlist that
otherwise wouldn't? S’pose he gets ten
men to ’nlist that w'u’dn’t hev ’nlisted
unless he'd made ’em see ’twas their
duty to. Hasn't he sent ten substitutes,
as 'twere, an’ ain't he fightin’ with the
strength of ten men?’
i round seein’ the sights, what was he?
| ‘Ye don’t b’long to the army, do ye?’ I
asked.
“‘Well,” he said, ‘I can’t say ’sI do,
an’ then he stopped as ef somethin’
new’d occurred to him, an’ ’ith a kind o’
whimsical, shaddery smile he added:
‘Why, yes I do, too. I'd most forgotten
when I answered. Yes, I b’long t’ the
{ army—an’ the navy, both.’
| “Well, boys, that stumped me! How
he c’'v’d b’long t’ the army an’ navy both
| was more’n I c’u’d see.’ But after thinkin’
' a minit, I concluded he might ’a’ ’inlisted
i as a minister,an’ didn’t know yet whether
| he’d be signed t’ duty on the land ’'r on
the water. ‘You must be a chaplain, I
; guess,’ I said.
| “°*No,” he said, quiet as ever; ‘when I
i told you I'd preached some, I prob’bly
| gave you a wrong 'impression. I'm not
, a minister. I'm a lawyer—or was till
lately. A man don’t have t’ be a min-
ister t' preach, you know. I reckon
there’s more preachin’ done outside the
pulpits than in.
“ ‘An’ now, my friend,’ he said, ‘ef I
was you, I'd go back to my company as
fast as my legs c’'u’d carry me. Soldiers
i ll be needed from now on, all we can get
of ’em. There's a long, hard war ahead
of us, an’ every man must do his duty,
an’ not shirk. We've got to save this
; Union, an’ we've got to fight to save it.
| We've got to fight hard, for there are
men down there’—pointin’ off ’cross the
i P’tomac—‘who are goin’ to fight hard to
| destroy it. We mustn’t let ’em; first for
j our own:Sakes, o’ course, but also for
theirs. Preservin’ it meansas much to
| them as to us in the long run; an’ some
{ day they’ll see it. They can’t now; we
c’'w’dn’t in their places, perhaps. But
some day they will; an’ in their hearts,
j or mebbe in their children’s hearts, they'll
| thank us for preservin’ it. For this gov-
‘ernment of the people by the people
| means as much to them as to us; an’ ef
| it perish, their liberties perish as surely
i as ours. An’so, my friend, go back to
the army an’ do y’r duty, an’ pray for
. me that Almighty God’ll give me the
; wisdom an’ the strength t' do mine!’
i “He took my hand in his great big fist,
| an’ shut it warm an’ hard, an’, boys, I
tell ye, I never felt solemner, n’r more
like wantin’ to be good an’ do what was
right an’ brave, than I did then, with
those melancholy, kind eyes lookin’ down
into mine.
“I gulped, an’ told him I was goin’ back
t’ my company ’s fast as ever I c’u’d, an’
he smiled an’ said, ‘That’s right!’
“Then off he walked, teeterin’ a little,
up towards the White House.”
“Who was the man, Uncle Timothy?”
we asked.
“Who was he?” The gray old eyes
dreamed deeply. “I dun’ no,” for certain,
{ who he was; but I know who I think it
was—an’ you oughter know.”—By James
Raymond Perry, in Harper's Weekly.
A Valentine Grab Bag.
A grab bag suitable for a valentine
party, instead of being made in the
! usual pillow case style, should resemble
i a postman’s bag, indeed, one may be bor-
{ rowed for the occasion, from some coun-
i try friend who is accustomed to sen? to
| the post office for his mail.
i Instead of suspending this from the
doorway and hitting at it blindfolded
| with a stick, have it carried by a boy,
dressed in postman attire, or as Cupid.
Let the guests form a big circle around
the postman and turning first one way,
then the other, stop at a ‘signal from
the postman. When the music stops the
person who is directly opposite the point
of Cupid's arrow, or the postman’s stick,
is handed a key and permitted to unlock
the bag and reach in for a prize.
These may be all sorts of cheap trin-
kets, valentines, crackers to pull, joking
verses and cheap jewelry.
When the drawing is finished and the
packages opened the music starts again
and the chain continues until the next
signal.
Oldest Valentine.
At no time since Charles, Duc d’Or-
leans, in 1415, wrote the earliest known
poetic valentine (it is now in the British
Museum) have valentines been so free
from objectionable features as they are
today. The hideous so-called comics of
some years since have been frowned out
of existence; fortunately, humanity has
cultivated a more subtle sense of humor.
Even the erstwhile favored postcard has
found a strong rival in the cards (some
show four pages) with envelepes. Some
of these new cards fold, too, and form
an envelope without any addition. Many
of these show additional attractions, such
as wedding rings, cigars, spoons and
other articles either directly connected
with Cupid’s little game or played upon
in some more or less relative fashion.
Now, as for greeting sent in an envelope,
one finds it comic or sentimental, ex-
pressive of any degree of affection,
though naturally on this day of days it
is likely to breathe of really, truly love.
First Steam Press.
On Nov. 29, 1814, a newspaper for
the first time was printed by steam.
Although the application of steam pow-
er to printing machinery had been
successfully experimented with some
years previously, the hostility of the
working printers rendered it unadvis-
able for the masters to introduce such
a startling innovation into their print.
ing houses. Toward the end of 1814,
however, the growing circulation of
the Times made a change of some kind
necessary, and in the face of fierce op-
position the second John Walter set
up a steam printing press. So on the
morning of Nov. 20 the leading article
of the Times announced to its readers
that they held in their hands that day
a copy of the first newspaper to be
printed by steam.—London Answers.
BULBS. IN A BOWL.
An Easy Way to Cultivate Miniature
Floating Gardens.
A novel way of growing bulbs, such
as crocuses. has been tried with good
success. After securing the bulbs the
next thing is to get one or two rather
large corks. Through these holes are
bored and the bulbs fitted into the
openings in such a way that the under
side, from which the roots spring, is
_nedr the lower part of the cork.
Now obtain a large shallow bowl and
fill this with pure water. Float the
corks, with the bulbs in place, on the
surface and set the whole thing aside
in a rather shady position for two ox
three weeks. At the end of this time
it will be noticed that the roots are
growing down into the water; thence-
forward a place in a sunny window
should be selected.
The upper shoots of the bulbs will
start to grow rapidly, and at this time
it is a good plan to arrange a little
moss to hide the upper surface of the
corks, or, if preferred, however. grass
or some other seed. such as cress, may
be sown to provide a green covering.
There is nothing to do but to keep
the bowl well supplied with water and
change this now and again. Iinally
the flowers emerge. and then the effect
is extremely pretty. The bulbs may be
planted in this way any time up to
early January. though naturally the
sooner they are started the earlier they
will bloom.—S. Leonard Bastin in St.
Nicholas.
VICTORIA’S LETTERS.
Royal Secrets That Are Stored Away
In Buckingham Palace.
“We may wonder if the world will
ever be allowed to see the private cor-
respondence amassed by the late Queen
Victoria,” says a writer. It is stored
away in a strong room built into the
walle of Buckingham palace, and the
queen shared her confidence with no
one.
So long as she was physically able to
do so she opened and closed the safe
herself and arranged its contents.
When she was too feeble to do this she
employed an old and trusted secretary.
but even he had to work under the
royal eye. He was never allowed to
keep the keys nor to read the letters
that he handled.
Queen Victoria was always a volumi-
nous letter writer, and she was in con-
stant communication with most of the
royalties in Europe. Every domestic
secret and privacy of royalty during
half a century is said to be represented
by the contents of this wonderful safe.
and it is easy to believe that the mod:
ern historian would find his hands full
if he were permitted to browse among
these letters. x
But probably he will have to wait a
few hundred years, and then his pop-
ular audience will be a languid one. It
is one of the ironies of life that we can
never have a thing when we want it.—
Pittsburgh Press.
A Royal Snake Slaughterer.
The “secretary bird” is one of the
most precious birds in South Africa.
It is royal game, and any person de-
stroying one is liable to a fine of £50.
Majestic looking birds, they stand
about three feet high and generally go
in pairs. They are of drab color, with
black, feathery legs, and are valued for
their propensity for killing snakes.
Where the secretary bird is seen there
are sure to be many reptiles about.
The bird beats down its adversary
first with one wing and then with the
other, at the same time trampling on
it with its feet until the snake is suffi-
ciently stunned to catch it by the head
with its claws. Then the bird rises far
up in the air and drops its victim to
the ground to be killed. By this means
thousands of venomous reptiles are de-
stroyéd.—London Scraps.
Silver Sword of Hawaii.
One of the most curious plants in
the world and one of the greatest in-
terest to all botanists is the silver
sword. This exceedingly rare plant.
with its magnificent silver spines and
nandsome crest, may still be found in
profusion in the upper part of Kaupo
gap, the southern outlet of the vast
extinct crater of Haleakala, on the
island of Maui. It flowers from July
to October and occurs hardly any-
where else in the world. Even stranger
Js the variety known as the green
sword, which occurs only in Haleakala
crater and is unknown to exist else-
where.—Honolulu Star Bulletin.
Prince Henry the Navigator.
The kingdom of Portugal counted in
its royal house one of the men who
hold first rank in scientific attainment
and practical application. He was the
son of John I. of Portugal and Queen
Philippa, whe “was an English princess.
He spent hiz life in sending out ships
on voyages of discovery, and it was
through this Prince Henry, called ‘the
Navigator,” that Columbus got his idea
of seeking for a new land across the
sea.
Carrots.
Carrots were first introduced into
England by Flemish gardeners in the
time of Elizabeth, and in the reign of
James I. they were still so uncommon
that ladies wore bunches of them on
their hats and on their sleeves instead
of feathers.
Much Entertained.
Said Cholly—I have just been look-
Ing over a volume of revised statutes.
Quoth Algy—Well?
Cholly—I had no idea there were so
many interesting ways of breaking the
law.—Louisville Courier-Journal.
The lessons of life are lost if they do
not impress us with the necessity of
making ample allowances for the im.
mature conclusions of others.
NTO
THE WHIP IN RIFLE BARRELS
It Is Caused by the Pressure of Mod
ern High Power Powder. |
The use of high power powder in My
fles has given rise to a phenomenon |
which did not exist in black powder:
days. This is known as “whip” and is |
due to the pressure and vibration set!
up by the powder. It is constant with |
given loads and is always in the same |
direction. i
Sights are aligned by the manufac |
turer to compensate for this whip in|
proportion to the powder charge used
In firing auxiliary cartridges it will of |
ten be found that the rifle shoots off
center. As a matter of fact the bullet
from the auxiliary is traveling in a
true line with the bore. and it is the:
sights that are wrong. The lighter:
charge of the auxiliary does not pro. |
duce the usual whip. with the result
that the line in prolongation of the
bore of the rifle along which the bullet
travels is not the line given by the!
alignment of the sights.
Two other rifle terms that must not
be confused are upsettage and keyhol
ing. Keyholing is the tendency of the
bullet to turn over in flight, while up
settage is the slight shortening of the!
major axis of the bullet due to the:
force of the charge. It was peculiar tc!
black powder fired behind lead bullets
and does not exist to any appreciable
extent in metal jacketed bullets with
smokeless powder. In the latter case
the charge burns more slowly and the
jacket stiffens the bullet against the
sudden blow from behind.—Outing. i
ORIGIN OF THE PERISCOPE
The Reflecting Spyglass Used at the
Siege of Sebastopol. |
Speaking of the origin of the peri. |
scope, the following extract from the'
writings of the well known inventor of ,
“Pepper’s Ghost” gives the credit tc,
the clerical profession. Pepper wrote!
soon after the Crimean war:
“During the siege of Sebastopol num: |
bers of our best artillerymen were con- |
tinually picked off by the enemy’s rifles
as well as by cannon shot, and in order
to put a stop to the foolhardiness and
incautiousness of the men, a very in|
genious contrivance was invented by
the Rev. William Taylor, the coadju !
tor of Mr. Denison in constructing the!
first ‘Big Ben’ bell. It was called the
reflecting spyglass, and by its simple |
construction rendered the exposure of |
the sailors and soldiers who would look |
over the parapet or other parts of the
works to observe the effect of their
shots perfectly unnecessary, while an-
other form was constructed for the
purpose of allowing the gunner to ‘lay
or aim his gun in safety.
“The instruments were shown tc)
Lord Panmure, who was so convinced
of the importance of the invention that
he immediately commissioned the Rev.
William Taylor to have a number of
these telescopes constructed, and it
the siege had not terminated just af
the time the invention was to have
been used no doubt a great saving of
the valuable lives of the skilled artil
lerymen would have been effected.”—
London Express.
!
|
i
i
Gam’s Dry Humor.
‘When the gallant Welsh captain, Da
vid Gam, was sent forward by Henry}
V. to reconnoiter the French army be
fore the battle of Agincourt he founc
that the enemy outnumbered the Eng
lish by about five to one. His report
to the king is historic:
“There are enough to be killed
enough to be taken prisoners anc
enough to run away.”
This quaint forecast of the result 01
the battle ai once spread through the
camp, and doubtless every yeoman
archer of the valiant company felt ar
inch taller. We know that it was al
most literally justified by the event
Poor Gam’s dry humor was equaleC
by his courage. He was killed while
in the act of saving the life of his
prince.—London Standard.
Distilled Water.
Distilled water after having been ex
posed to the air is one of the most sa
lubrious of drinks. Its daily use ir
measured quantities is helpful in cases
of dyspepsia and greatly assists the
general functions of the body. Every
large steamer carries a water distilling
apparatus by which sea water is made
fresh. In the days before steamers
primitive distilling apparatus was usec
on warships and vessels carrying pas-
sengers.
Well Fitted.
“Yes, grandma; I am to be married
next month.”
“But, my dear,” said grandma ear-
nestly, “you are very young. Do you
feel that you are fitted for married
life?”
“] am being fitted now, grandma,"
explained the prospective bride sweet
ly. “Seven gowns!”’—Kansas City Jour-
nal. ‘
More Than the Average.
Mrs. Wayup—How much sleep do |
need, doctor? Doctor—Well, the aver
age person needs about seven hours.
Mrs. Wayup—Then I shall take about
fourteen. I consider I am much above
the average.—Judge.
A Plain Heroine.
“This is refresaing. The author says
his heroine isn’t beautiful.”
“It will be refreshing to see the pic
tures of the heroine come up to the
print.”’—Louiaville Courier-Journal.
\ Many Sided Woman.
Man thinks he is going to solve ths
mystery kmewn as woman after he i»
married. ».nd then the plot thickens
—Toledo Rade.
It is bad to work loiteringly; it is
worse to loiter instead of beginning tc
work at all.
CURIOUS ORIGIN OF A LAW.
It Was Passed In England on Account
of Peter Thellusson’s Will.
The Thellusson law, once enacted by
the British government, was a law to
regulate the disposition of property
by will and to prevent the excessive
accumulation of estates. It bad a cu-
rious origin.
On the 27th of July, 1797, one Peter
| Thellusson, an English merchant of
French birth, died in London, leaving
a certain sum to his widow and chil-
dren and the remainder of his property,
then amounting to several hundred
thousand dollars, to trustees to ac-
cumulate during the lives of his chil-
dren. grandchildren and great-grand-
children living at dhe time of his death
and the survivors of them. The ac-
cumulation would have been enormous.
The will was contested, but was held
valid. In order. however, to prevent
such a disposition of property in the
| future. parliament passed what was
' called the Thellusson act, or accumula-
, tions act, regulating and limiting be-
quests in such a way as to make great
accumulations impossible.
When Peter Thellusson’s last sur-
viving grandson died, in 1856, a ques-
tion arose as to whether the eldest
male descendant or the male descend-
ant of the eldest son should inherit the
property, and this question was de-
cided on appeal by the house of lords
in June, 1859. The Thellusson will and
the legislation growing out of it were
a subject of much discussion by law-
yers.—Pittsburgh Press.
EPIGRAMS BY PRESIDENTS.
Not Many Deathless Sentences Have
Been Handed Down to Us.
How very few things which any of
our presidents said can anybody recall
offhand!
Washington's most frequently quoted
phrase is, “In time of peace prepare
for war.”
John Adams talked all day and wrote
diaries all night, but perhaps ‘Inde-
pendence forever’—his toast for the
very Fourth of July on which he died—
is more widely known than any other
one thought.
“Few die and none resign,” heads
Jefferson’s list of deathless sentences,
although parts of the Declaration of
Independence are known to millions.
The doctrine keeps Monroe's name
forever to the front, but his state pa-
pers, speeches and letters, like those
of Madison. John Quincy Adams, Mec-
Kinley, Taft and many other men
long and honorably in public life, are
devoid of handles—nothing to take
' hold of.
Rutherford B. Hayes gave us one
very fine thought, “He serves his party
best who serves the country best.”
Jackson was forever saying “By the
eternal!” but what else?
“With malice toward none” and *“‘a
government of the people,” etc., are
Lincoln’s master strokes. However, his
letters and papers are full of unique
thoughts and would afford a present
day cartoonist enormous opportunities.
—Philadelphia Ledger.
Preparation of Parchment.
Parchment is the skin of sheep or
other animals prepared in sheets tec
render them fit for being written upon.
The heavier parchment, used for drum-
heads, is made from the skins of asses.
older calves, wolves and goats. All
these are similarly prepared. The skin,
being freed from the hair, is placed in
a liwe pit to cleanse it from fat. The
peit is then stretched upon a frame.
care being taken that the surface is
free from wrinkles. The flesh is pared
off with a circular knife, after which it
is moistened and whiting spread over
it. Then the workman, with a large
pumice stone, rubs the skin. He next
goes over it with an iron instrument
and rubs it carefully with pumice stone
without chalk. Finally the skin is
gradually dried, tightening being occa-
sionally required.
To Lengthen Life of Necktie.
A good many people who are users of
four-in-hand ties are more or less both-
| ered by the tie’s becoming useless after
it has been worn a few times.
Take the wide end of the tie with
seam up and lay it flat upon a table.
Then thrust in the finger and seize the
lining. Take the silk cover in the other
hand and pull it over the lining, about
half of its length. A hot iron is then
run over the lining to straighten it out.
—Popular Science Monthly.
Home Grown Oats Best.
The Maine agricultural experizaent
station has by its wide studies of in-
heritance in oats proved the idea cur-
rent among farmers that foreign grown
seed is better than home grown to have
little basis. As the Journal of Hered-
ity notes, a variety frequeutly behaves
much better after it has been acclima-
tized for a year or two.
Steam Power.
The power of steam was known to
the ancients, a mechanical contrivance
in which it was used being noted by
Hero of Alexandria about 130 B. C,
but nothing came of it, and it was
not till the seventeenth century that
is power was agaia recognized.
A Dead One.
“He is a dead one” is not slang. It
occurs in Longfellow’s “Spanish Stu-
dent.” The clown Chispa says, “I have
a father, too, but he is a dead one.”
Much Harder.
“There is ncthing harder than get-
ting out of a kad habit.”
“Yes, there is—getting into a good
one.”—Boston Transcript.
Our duty is to be useful, not accord-
ing to our desires, but according to our
powers.—Amiel.