———
the superintendent had found for him: while and had come home. We
John | get any of your things later, but just
had wandered about this formula, and ; for tonight I should like to have
Buca
Bellefonte, Pa., August 11, 1916.
LOST.
“What? Lost your temper, did you say?
Well, dear, I wouldn't mind it.
It isn’t such a dreadful loss—
Pray, do not try to find it.
"T'was not the gentlest, sweetest one,
As all can well remember
Who have endured its every whim
From New Year's till December.
It drove the dimples all away,
And wrinkled up your forehead,
And changed a pretty, smiling face
To one—well, simply horrid.
It put to flight the cheery words,
The laughter, and the singing;
And clouds upon a shining sky
It woul persist in bringing.
And it is gone! Then do, my dear,
Make it your best endeavor
To quickly find a better one,
And lose it—never, never!
—*“Harper’s Young People.”
THE LADY BEHIND THE IRON
FENCE.
* On a valuable piece of property
stands the Home, the kind that begins
with a capital, has a big, clean-shaved
lawn that isn’t to be walked on, many
stockings swinging from a creaking
wire line in the back, and a large par-
lor and visiting day in front, where if
you are a lucky “half-orphan,” either
a mother or a father comes unexpect-
edly the day you forget to wash be-
hind your ears. But if you are a
whole orphan nobody comes at all—
nobody, that is, that you belong to.
John Landon went into the Home
when he was three years old. In those
days he was so sure every visitor had
something for him! When he was
old enough to understand in what a
mysterious way God moves he had,
concerning Visitors, hopes other than
candy and safe jackknives. Often a
lady in black would come in an auto-
mobile and afterward there would be
Someone missing at the long tables.
And Someone would have long rides,
real school where you don’t have to
walk all the way in line, and clothes
that look like you. But usually Some-
one was about two years old and very
pretty and almost always a girl. John
began early to think hard of God be-
cause he had happened to be a boy.
There is some hope, even if you are
a boy, until you get to be about seven.
Then some of your teeth are out; of
course girls’ teeth fall out, too, but
their curls bob so that you have to
look at them instead. At seven, too,
you begin to drop your fork and stum-
ble over chairs, and your hands chap.
This matter seems not to be remedied
by time—at least such time as you
stay in the Home. For on the morn-
ing you are fifteen you are a man and
you do up your clothes in a bundle
and go out to earn your living.
Across the street from the Home is
a great stone house behind an iron
fence. There are gardens, too, won-
derful flowers and blossoming trees,
and a fountain with a little marble
boy holding an umbrella over his
head. There is also a lady—a lady
-such as one reads about in fairy tales
—a lady with golden hair and a shawl
like white mist falling down over her
dress, blue like the sky.
John’s earliest remembrance, which
had to do with his coming up the
steps of the Home, was connected
with the lady—for he saw her before
he saw the matron, and wished—oh,
how he wished!—that whoever
brought him had taken him over there
instead! She seemed, this golden-
haired lady, to like children. She often
gave them flowers through the fence
and asked them about school and let
them touch her fluffy cat. But when
you are nine, and your middle upper
“teeth are too large, you stop looking
through iron railings at ladies in gar-
dens.
And now the inevitable was upon
him. John would be fifteen tomor-
row. He knew he must “begin at the
bottom;” the superintendent said so.
But just the particular place to put
his foot on and say, “Stand over!
Give me room!”—that he did not
know. Perhaps he would tomorrow,
when he was fifteen. For, when you
come to think of it, being fifteen is a
thing you cannot put off.
The day before you are to be a man
you think over your childhood and
youth. Vaguely, in some far crypt of
his mind, John realized that he was
going to lose his youth in the deal;
but he had childhood left. This he
viewed as he packed his other suit
and a few bocks and trinkets into a
bundle. His remembrance of that
time was for the most part of want-
Ing a coat with plaits and a belt; of
not wanting oatmeal fashioned pre-
sumably out of glue—it stuck so
queerly to the spoon—out of a grayish
white bird’s bathtub; remembrance of
a great wish that the large-bosomed
woman who was paid to keep order in
and epidemics out would put her arms
around him and hold him—so—for
just an instant, and a harrowing fear
(later) that she would; of a long
Ning of bony-armed little
Ing into a never quite warm enough
Saurcay tub; and of a long sting os
little boys foilowing a long string of
Ie gris Into a school house or a
church where you *
aren you are always “one of
From his place in the long line he
had often seen pale-faced: happy-
eyed women wheeling berambulators
containing pink-and-white or blue- | h
and-white bundles,
pale-faced,
and say words not in Engli i
kisses of lips, kisses of I
doring
tion he had seen lean just s
blue-and-white bundle in hee ae
gy. Had he ever been covered with
Sacting Dink and white or blue and
/ ? and any wom i
mms How did it feet? Sherckive)
ohn went out of the Home with hi
bundle. Though he had not been 15s
ticularly happy behind
aboard a car on his way to the place
boys div-:
thos i
walls, he felt a bit lonely as be es b
“a safe place for a young boy.”
now suddenly in the crowded, jolting,
dusty car—he knew. He did not
know that the size of his other fea-
tures had long since caught up with
those two large teeth and that now he
was more than an ordinarily good-
looking boy. He did not know why
the salamander-gowned girls across
the aisle looked at him with such
bold, eager eyes. But he was con-
scious of a new interest in his tie;
he would get a new one when he got
his first money at that business place
where the superintendent assured him
there was an “opening.” He liked to
have the girls look at him. At first
shy, he soon began occasionally to
look at them.
Once, when traffic was stopped by a
policeman’s whistle,” John saw outside
the window a big car, and in it fath-
er and son joking together. John
looked at them curiously. The street
car moved on with new passengers—
mother and child, a very little child
wrapped in a blue-and-white blanket.
Fascinated, John watched them, and
it was as though an old, long-healed
wound had begun to ache anew. ‘He
stirred uncomfortably and cleared his
throat and would not look when the
girls coughed their subtle invitation.
Then all at once—at the instant he
pushed back his hat from his high
white forehead—he was a cynic. Life
had cheated him. Something was
wrong. He got up and stepped down
into the street with his fist hardened
against Someone, the Cause, ‘the
Thing to Blame.
The girls were at his elbow. They
plucked him by the sleeve; the wind
blew their hair against his coat.
“Meet us,” they said, “tonight at the
show here on the corner. Will you ?”
He hesitated; what after all would
he do tonight? No one else wanted
him. These girls wanted him—may-
be he would; yes, maybe he would—
and with that he left them. He found
the Safe Place, where a slatternly
shrew was mopping down the stairs |ed
and the air was prophetic of cabbage
and onion. He had left his bundle in
a room that faced the alley, then went
out and found the Opening. There, in
that office of finance, in the few mo-
ments when he was learning his du-
ties, he heard profanity that he would
never forget. Then he went out on
the street.
What should he do tonight? He had
time on his hands, time and no one to
inquire into its spending. He was
alone; he was free. He thought with
nausea that was a sickness of the
spirit rather than of the body, of the
Safe Place and the hag on the stairs.
A wave of homesickness swept over-
him for the home he had never had.
The little child craves home love,
craves the clinging arms, the shelter
of the body. The boy who will be a
man tomorrow craves it with reason
and realization of irremediable loss.
He found himself turning toward
the Home. It was not, had never been
a home; but it was where during all
the life that he could remember he
had lain down to sleep at night, sat
down to eat, put on his clothes; it was
all he had.
Getting off the car’ in the neigh-
borhood, he walked toward the Home.
He had no place there now; another
already had his iron bed. But how
natural and protected, how “safe”
must go in once more—once more be-
fore he became a man tomorrow. This
was his birthnight;
his birthday and he was afraid.
Then -he remembered an old
watch fob far back on the shelf.
grocer boy had once given it to John.
you
come just as you are. We have din-
ner at seven, you know. When I
come to the door I want to know that
you are my son.
The boy read the letter over and
over again. -He passed his fingers
across the last words as though they
must be warm to the touch. He looked
around in the place where he no long-
er belonged. He wanted to go some-
i where all by himself alone, just for a
minute—away from the
clatter of
voices, the rattle of heavy plates. He
went out around back of the Home
where hung, in the gravel areaway,
two creaking lines of black stock-
ings. He stood between them and,
sheltered so, looked once more at the !
miracle.
On the table shining with satin
damask and silver, places were laid
for three. There were roses in a
crystal bowl. The Lady walked rest-
lessly about, looking at the little jew-
eled watch on her wrist. “Almost
seven John!” she said huskily. “I—
I believe I’m just a bit nervous.”
“No regrets?”
“Regrets? No. Fear that he might
not come.”
“It is a bit strange, I suppose—this
way of getting a son, Alice.”
|
can
i
{together a half cupful
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
— |
DAILY THOUGHT I
A man may, if he knows not how to save
as he gets, keeps his nose to the grindstone all
his life and die not worth a groat at last.— :
Benjamin Franklin. !
Home-Made Soap.—Home made
hard soap that you know is sweet and |
clean is easily made, costs but a few
cents and saves several dollors’ worth
of the purchaser article. Put into a
crock one can of lye, pour on it a quart
of water. Let cool. Add a half cup-
ful of borax in water to dissolve, mix
each of am-
monia and kerosene. Have five pounds
of clean grease warmed in a granite
pan, pour in the cold lye, then the
ammonia and oil and the borax, stir-
ring with a clean stick until all is well |
blended. Pour into a strong box and '
in twenty-four hours cut in bars.
Separate Skirts.—The separate
skirt is with us once again and this
season’s models are lovelier than any
that have gone before.
broad stripes of pale green.
Another is of French pique, finely
ribbed in soft rose ‘and white. i
| ‘Taffeta skirts are much worn with
“Getting a son is always a strange ' separate blouses, and of mohair skirts
thing, John.
morning—a boy.”
“Yes, you're right; this is not
stranger than that.” He walked rest-
lessly about; sometimes he cleared his
throat nervously. “You know, Alice,
that court’ business the other day got
on my nerves.
that stole lead pipe, I was telling you
about, were at least three years old-
er than they looked in size. They were
stunted physically and they
wiser in sin than I am; they
just eighteen. They had left an orph-
an asylum three years before, Alice,
and what happened to them in those
three years you couldn’t believe. I
thought then, Alice, what a protect-
life—our—boy—wili
his youth.”
Four minutes before seven!
Lady waited at the door, listening.
Three minutes—how long minutes
can be!
“Minna waited a long tin-e,”
Alice, turning toward the inner room,
tonly to find her husband at her shoul-
der. They clasped hands as cold as
it been
looked. It seemed to him that he | sists of model wa
tomorrow was | nomical
i
ice.
Two minutes—and a step on the
porch, a quick step, then a hesitance.
Then out of silence a ring, and at the
instant an open door.
The Lady stretched out both hands
to his. Then they looked at each other
in silence a moment. Thev leaned
nearer and nearer, and then, some-
how, she felt his arms gently close
about her and he knew her kiss.
warm, tender, like a benediction.
A strong voice from just beyond
was saying “Well, son!” and the boy
knew he need not be a man tomorrow.
—By Helen Baker Parker, in the
“Ladies’ Heme Journal.”
College Fair Exhibit.
In connection with the county fajr
exhibit to be sent out by The
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The ' ses on
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said | difficult to remove,
i tion of both acid and alkali. They are
Minna’s baby came this | there is no end. But the latter are as
mohair as any-
thing that can be imagined, being, in- |
little like the old stiff
stead, soft and silky.
gathered to give fullness and are or- |
{namented with pockets and pearl but- |
Those two youngsters : tons.
stains can be removed
many ways.
Grass in
Soaking them in
alcohol
of ammonia and water are sufficient
to remove it. "If the stain is on deli-
cately-colored clothes,
spread on the stain (or spread molas-
it;) leave for two or three
hours, then wash.
Perspiration stains are often very
being a combina-
particularly trying to handle when on
colored silks, and for these one might
try a mixture of alcohol, ether and
ammonia. In applying this several
should be put under the stained place
to prevent a ring forming, which
{ might remain when the fabric was dry.
The proportions are one part ammo-
nia and three parts each of alcohol
and ether. i
Perspiration stains on white goods,
woolen, silk or cotton are easier to re-
move; but it should be borne in mind
that the perspiration under the arms
is different from that of any other
part of the body, and requires an acid,
such as a weak solution of muriatic
acid. Warm water and ammonia, ap-
plied by sponge and pressed out be-
fore it becomes dry, are often suffi-
cient to remove them. Soaking the
Penn- ; stains in cold water, washing with
sylvania State College School of Agri- ; borax and exposing the garments to
culture and Experiment Station,
cial home economics features
included.
age disposal plant for the farm home.
The model represents the most eco-
drains.
The other feature is a set of
He would ask permission to go to the ' children’s garments designed to meet
place where he had slept four thou-
sand nights and he would get that
talisman.
“You have a letter,” ‘said the ma-
tron busy with the napkin under the
chin of the littlest; “it is on the shelf
by the clock.” :
John could not remember ever hav-
ing had a letter. He opened the
square, pure white envelope with its
faint perfume of flowers. “Dear Boy,”
he read. Perhaps it was not for him!
He looked again. Yes, it was for
him. He read on: e
Dear Boy: I am the woman behind
the iron fence. You will think this a
strange letter, but then life is strange
from first to last and all things in it.
For twelve years I have loved you. I;
have seen you come and go. I have
known when you lost a tooth—when a
new one came in. I have known when
you were outgrowing your suits. I
have known when you had new ones.
You used to look at me when you went
by; but now you never do. Why not,
John? Today I have missed you, I
wonder where you are. So many,
many times, years ago, I used to say
to myself “I vant him! I must have
him for mine!” But it is a thing one
puts off somehow—and the years fly
by! And always I was waiting to see
if I should have one of my own. But
more than anything else I was putting
it off for another reason: I was so
afraid that it was the little, little
child I wanted, the tiny soft thing to
hold and dress up in embroidered
white things and wrap in a-blue-and-
white blanket. I was afraid that
‘when you got to be a big, awkward
boy I might not love you, might not
xnow what to do with you, might re- |,
gret—— Now you are a big boy, but
you are not awkward; to me you are
fine and strong, and I love you more
than I used to when you were a little
boy. You seem like my own child. I
think my loving you all these years
has made. you mine.
Will you forgive me for the years I
ave waited? Now I know. And you
will always be sure that I know. We
both want you. His name is John too.
We know all about you, although I
think that makes no difference with
g |me. We will give you the love we
would give our own—and all that goes
with that love. I shall tell the ma-
tron things you will want to know
about us. Do you think you could
grow to love me? Perhaps not just
first, but after awhile? I have been
getting your room ready. It has a
blue-and-white quilt on the bed, made
of dresses I had when I was as old as
you are now.
I wanted to say all this in a letter,
ecause when you come I want ii to
e without explanations—just as
though you had been out for a little
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and energy.
i
the hygienic needs of the child and
the economic limitations of the famil
budget. The patterns used are suc
as to make it possible for the busy
mother to construct the garments
with the least expenditure of time
Fabrics that are durable
and suited to the needs of the child
have been chosen for this exhibit.
eps stone
The Source of Amber.
This somewhat popular material for
making jewels of various kinds was
for a long time simply the result of
“fishing” for it on the shores of the
Baltic Sea. After long storms quan-
tities of amber were found thrown up.
on the beach and fishermen were
somewhat successful in collecting it.
The largest piece ever thus found
weighed eighteen pounds and was
worth many thousands of dollars. At
the present time, however, mines of
amber are found in the district of
Palmnicken, Germany. The exploita-
tion of these mines and the prepara-
tion and use of the amber subsequent-
ly is a government monopoly, enfore-
ed with great rigidity, so that prac-
tically no one ever dares to sell am-
ber except to government officials.
Swat Hessian Fly.
Pointers from the Missouri College
of Agriculture:
Plow early.
Bury the fly.
Destroy all volunteer wheat.
- Sow on or soon after fly-free date,
Use oats or rye as fall pasture.
The fly can’t eat oats and it cares little
or rye.
Deep plowing of wheat stubble
buries the fly and a good harrowing
makes it harder for him to escape.
Starve the fly till about the middle
of October, then sow and you’ll have
no Hessian fly next year if all your
neighbors do the same. If one of
them sows early or lets volunteer
wheat stand, his fly crop will probably
get your wheat next year. :
Uncle Sam to Doctor Paralyzed Ohio
Bees.
An epidemic resembling paralysis
has broken out among the Ohio bee
colonies and threatens to reduce ma-
terially the State’s output of honey,
according to N. E. Shaw, State bee in-
spector.
The Federal Government is sending
Dr. E. F. Phillips, its chief bee ex-
pert, to the State to investigate the
case.
Bees attacked by the disease quit
work, go off to a corner of the hive
and lie there until they die, says
Shaw.—Reformatory Record.
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i tion.
spe- | sunshine is an indorsed method. Wash-
have | ing the stains in one part of Javelle
One of these con- | Water to four parts of hot water, and
ter system and sew- | rinsing well, is also advised.
If we are to wear bouffant skirts we
arrangement of pipes and ! are probably in for a period of starch-
Approximate costs for the |iness.
tin | various types of water systems are
A | given.
Organdie, one of the fashion-
able summer fabrics, is most certainly
a fabric that bears out this supposi-
Yet many housekeepers, maids
of all work and even laundresses, have
forgotten all they ever knew about the
gentle art of starching.
There was a day when everything was
starched, and some housekeepers even
had a bit of starch put in the table
linen, just a trace to give it glossiness
and a suggestion of stiffness. Table
linen, of course, should always be ex- |
empt from. starching. It should gain’
glossiness and stiffness from ironing
when it is very damp.
For simple evening or afternoon
frocks a famous Parisian dressmaker
is making sashes’of long lengths of i
ribbons in three different colors, i
These ribbons are about two inches :
wide, and the portion of the sash
which circles the waist is invisibly '
tacked, here and there, to keep the
ribbons in place. But the full loops |
and ends are left loose with the most
pleasing results. Sashes of this order |
are made of peach pink, lilac and egg- |
blue ribbons; also in an effective com- '
bination of pearl gray, heliotrope and
dull rose. :
For a half mourning summer frock f
nothing could be more dainty than a
full one-piece garment made of white
muslin dotted with black pin points,
and a picturesque sash in black and
white taffeta ribbon. The border of
the full skirt might be arranged in
hemstitched tucks and a large Puritan
collar; also hemstitching would give
Us ‘cape effect which is now so pop-
ular.
To Brighten Carpets.—Six quarts
of rain water, one cake of good white
soap, two ounces of borax, two ounces
of salsoda, and one handful of salt
will be needed to make a soap which
will clean a dingy looking carpet. Al-
low this to come to the boiling point
and add one ounce of glycerine. Re-
move from the fire, let cool and add
two ounces of aqua ammonia. Dis-
solve one cup of soap in one quart of
boiling water. Apply to carpet with
a scrub brush, sponge off with sponge
or cloth wrung from clean warm
water.
Picnic Pointers.—Here are direc-
tions for making some tasty sand-
wiches:
Chop one-half pound of ham very
fine, together with two chopped pick-
les, salt and pepper to taste. Beat six
ounces of butter to a cream, add the
choppe! ham and mix well. Cut thin
slices of bread, spread with the mix-
ture, press together, cut into diamonds
and garnish with parsley.
A delicious filling is made by mix-
ing a cupful of finely-cut celery into
the chopped whites and pounded yolks
of two hard-boiled eggs. Stir all well
For instance, !
{one of heavy cream-colored silk with
All of these skirts are pleated or!
One of the easiest is to
were | saturate the spot with kerosene and :
were | launder as usual.
is quite effective at times.
When the stain is fresh, applications
make a paste:
have during | of white soap and baking soda and
=
together and moisten the mixture with
two table-spoonfuls of mayonnaise !
dressing. :
Cheap Transportation Has
Built National Prosperity
This is a big American freight engine.
It is an achievement of AMERICAN INVENTIVE GENIUS.
+ It is built to HAUL LONG TRAINS loaded with the products of Amer-
fcan industry from the mines, farms, mills and factories to the markets
of the country,
In all the
and to the seaboard for shipment across the seas.
wonderful history of American industrial progress NO
PIECE OF MACHINERY HAS PERFORMED SUCH SERVICE AS THE
- BIG FREIGHT LOCOMOTIVE.
Freight is carried on our railroads at the LOWEST EATES IN THE
WORLD, while we pay our railroad workers the HIGHEST WAGES
IN THE WORLD. A TON OF FREIGHT IN THE EAST IS CARRIED
THREE MILES FOR THE COST OF A TWO-CENT POSTAGE STAMP,
Cheap transportation is one of the biggest builders of our prosperity.
The big freight engine with its enormous tractive power, the big steel
freight car with its great carrying capacity, and the heavy rails and
rock-ballasted
roadbed to support the weight of the great engines and
- heavy trains—these are the achievements of American industrial genius
which have given us low freight rates and broad markets, and have
enabled us to put our
with foreign manufacturers.
products in the markets of the world in competition
But now come well-mesning but short-sighted leaders of American
railroad workers who say to the railroad managers:
“SHORTEN YOUR FREIGHT
TRAINS so that the enginemen and
trainmen can haul the tonnage faster over the roads,
and so make as many
miles pay in eight hours as they now do in ten hours.”
To the State Legislatures these same spokesmen for the railroad work-
ers say:
“Pass laws LIMITING THE LENGTH OF FREIGHT TRAINS—we
oppose big tonnage trains.”
To the Farmers, Manufacturers,
and Merchants they say:
“With shorter freight trains railroads can move your products faster
to the markets.”
To the American Public that
they say:
“All that the railroads have to
wages is to shorten their trains,
the penalty of overtime wages.”
pays every dollar of the railroad bill
‘(and 44 cents of every dollar paid for transportation is for wages),
{ thicknesses of white blotting paper ’
do to meet our demands for higher
move the freight more rapidly and escape
What would be the result of taking these leaders of the 350,000 train
Increasing the number of trains
employes at their word—shorten freight trains so that they can be rum
‘at higher speed? :
to handle the same tonnage would
call for more employes to do the same work, more tracks, larger yards and
terminals, more supervision,
gestion of traffic and greater hazards
and it is plain that there would be more con-
in train operation. Hundreds of mil-
lions a year would have to be spent by the railroads to increase their facili-
ties and to operate the bigger plant.
IT WOULD BE AKIN TO
FIVE-TON STEAM. DREDGES
USING HAND SHOVELS INSTEAD OF
TO DIG A PANAMA CANAL.
American railroads have spent enormous amounts in reducing grades,
cutting down mountains and
power of locomotives and the
filling up valleys; in increasing the hauling
carrying capacity of cars; in putting down
rock ballast and heavy rails—all for one purpose, to lower the cost of
operation.
It is the public that has reaped the benefit—in better and cheaper
railroad service.
If the railroads moved their tonnage in shorter trains at higher speeds,
the public, it is seen, would have to shoulder a great burden in the in-
creased cost of transportation.
Would the
public get value received for its money ?
Of the tonnage on the roads east of Chicago 60 per cent. consists of
coal, coke, ores,
consequence whether this freight is
stone and other mine products.
To the public it is of no
a few hours longer on the road, so
long as there is a continuous and regular stream of it coming to the
markets.
FOUR-FIFTHS OF ALL THE TONNAGE MOVING IN THE EAST
IS MADE UP OF LOW GRADE,
AT THE LOWEST RATES IN THE
SLOW MOVING FREIGHT, CARRIED
WORLD.
To abandon the big freight trains on American railroads in order to
increase the speed at which the bulk of
enable the train employes to earn higher
place a great burden on
any tangible benefit.
——
American
the traffic moves, and thereby
wages in shorter hours, would
industry without giving the publie
LONG HOURS A RARITY.
Only Once In Five Years Does Average
Trainman Exceed Legal Limit. |
That long hours in train service have
been reduced to a minimum is shown
by a report issued by the Interstate
Commerce Commission. Only one em-
ploye in five on the average last year !
was compelled to remain on duty more
than sixteen hours during any one day
in the whole year. Stated in another .
way, the chance of an engineman or
trainman remaining on duty beyond
this prescribed limit was reduced to |
once in five years.
The total number of cases of excess !
service from all causes reported to the
commission was only 61,247 during the
year ending June 30, 1915, as com-
pared with 137,439 in 1914 and 270,827
in 1913, and with rare exceptions these
represented cases recognized as due to
unavoidable causes.
\ Statistics on this subject are collected
by the Interstate Commerce Commis-
sion under the national hours-of-service
law. Every time a train is so de-
layed by a blizzard, washout or oth-
er cause that any part of the train
crew is on duty longer than sixteen
hours the railroad company must re-
port the occurrence to the commission,
giving the names of the itdividual em-
ployes concerned and a full statement
of the cause for the excess service.
For several years the railroads and
the Interstate Commerce Commission
have been co-operating in efforts to
prevent the keeping of employes on
duty for long periods. The reduction
of nearly 80 per rant. in such cases
which has been brought about in three
years shows that the working of men
for long stretches of continuous service
has practically disappeared except in
rare cases of unavoidable delay.
RAILWAY MAIL PAY.
Congress Directs Interstate Commerce
Commission to Investigate Subject.
Washington.—The annual Post Of-
fice appropriation bill recently passed
by Congress contains a clause directing
| the Interstate Commerce Commission
to take up for investigation, report and
the fixing of rates the system of pay-
ment to the railroads for carrying mail.
The Commission is authorized to test
the relative merits of payment b
weight and by space. :
The railroads have long contended
that they were underpaid for this serv-
ice and that they were losing millions
of dollars a year under the system of
payment now in effect. It was felt
that the Interstate Commerce Com-
mission, on account of the information
at its command regarding all phases
of railroad operation, is in the best po-
sition to determine the merits of the
case.
Cpe o>
GOVERNMENT SHOULD
REGULATE WAGES.
If a set of conditions have
arisen which oblige the govern-
ment to regulate rates, then it
is equally obliged, on the basis
of economic analysis, to regulate
wages ‘accordingly. Having tak-
en one step, it must take the
other. The logic of events is
forcing this dilemma on the gov-
ernment. It is the public which
sooner or later must pay for the .
increased expenses of transpor-
tation.—Professor J. Laurence
Laughlin, University of Chicago.
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