— Deworeaiic atcha, Belletonte, Pa., November 10, 1916 —— THE PESSIMIST. He sat down by the wayside, To all who came along He raised his voice of scrrow And sang a dismal song. Its intent never varied, For, though long did he sing, Until the people mobbed him— It was the same old thing. “I'm tired of all the war talk, Of antis and of pros, Of trenches by siege taken, Of how the east front goes; I'm weary cf the Grecians And if they'll jein the war; ‘While problem of the U-boats My system gives a jar. “I'm tired of cost of living, Of little loaves of bread, And when there comes coal question I wish that I were dead. I'm worn out with the campaign, Of fuss that speakers bring; I'll no more read the papers— I'm tired of everything!” —Baltimore American. THE BALKING OF CHRISTOPHER. The spring was early that year. It was only the last of March, but the trees were filmed with green and pal- ing with promise of bloom; the front yards were showing new grass prick- ing through the old. It was high time to plow the south field and the garden, but Christopher sat in his rocking-chair beside the kitchen win- dow and gazed out, and did absolute- ly nothing about it. Myrtle Dodd, Christopher’s wife, washed the breakfast dishes, and later kneaded the bread, all the time glanc- ing furtively at her husband. She had a most old-fashioned deference with regard to Christopher. She was al- ways a little afraid of him. Some- times Christopher’s mother, Mrs. Cyrus Dodd, and his sister Abby, who had never married, reproached her for this attitude of mind. “You are en- tirely too much cowed down by Chris- topher,” Mrs. Dodd said. “I would never be urder the thumb of any man,” Abby said. “Have you ever seen Christopher in one of his spells?” Myrtle would ask. Then Mrs. Cyrus Dodd and Abby would look at each other. “It is all your fault, mother,” Abby weuld say. “You really ought not to have allowed your son to have his own head so much.” “You know perfectly well, Abby, what I had to contend against,” re- plied Mrs. Dodd, and Abby became speechless. Cyrus Dodd, now deceas- ed some twenty years, had never dur- ing his whcle life yielded to anything but birth and death. Before those two primary facts even his terrible will was powerless. He had come into the world without his consent being obtained; he had passed in like man- ner from it. But during his life he had ruled, a pelty monarch, but a most thorough one. He had spoiled Christopher, and his wife, although a woman of high spirit, knew of no appealing. “I could never go against your father, you know that,” said Mrs. Dodd, following up her advantage. “Then,” said Abby, “you ought to have warned poor Myrtle. It was a shame to let her marry a man as spoiled as Christopher.” “I would have married him, any- way,” declared Myrtle, with sudden defiance; and her mother-in-law re- garded her approvingly. “There are worse men than Chris- topher, and Myrtle knows it,” said she. “Yes, I do, mother,” agreed Myrtle. “Christopher hasn’t ons bad habit.” “I dor’t know what vou call a bad habit,” retorted Abby. “I call having your own way in spite of the world, the flesh, and the devil rather a bad habit. Christopher tramples on everything in his path, and he always has. He tramples on poor Myrtle.” At that Myrtle laughed. “I don’t think I look trampled on,” said she; and she certainly did not. Pink and white and plump was Myrtle, al- though she had, to discerning eye, an expression which denoted extreme nervousness. This morning of spring, when her husband sat doing nothing, she wore this nervous expression. Her blue eyes looked dark and keen; her fore- head was wrinkled; her rosy mouth was set. Myrtle and Christopher were not young people; they were a little past middle age, still far from old in look or ability. Myrtle hand kneaded the bread to rise for the last time before it was put into the oven, and had put on the meat to boil for dinner, before she dared address that silent figure which had about it something tragic. Then she spoke in a small voice. “Christo- pher,” said she. Christopher made no reply. “It is a good morning to plow, ain’t it?” said Myrtle. : Christopher wag silent. “Jim Mason got over real early; I suppose he thought you’d want to get at the south field. He’s been sitting there at the barn door for most two hours.” Then Christopher rose. Mpyrtle’s anxious face lightened. But to her wonder her husband went into the front entry and got his best hat. “He ain’t going to wear his best hat to plow,” thought Myrtle. For an awful moment it occurred to her that some- thing had suddenly gone wrong with her husband’s mind. Christopher brushed the hat carefully, adjusted it at the little looking-glass in the kitech- en, and went out. “Be you going to plow the south field 7” Myrtle said faintly. “No, I aint.” “Will you be back to dinner?” “I don’t know—you needn’t worry if I'm not.” Suddeniy Christopher did an unusuagl thing for him. He and Myrtle had lived together for years, and outward manifestations of affec- tion were rare between them. He put his arm around her and kissed her. After he had gone, Myrtle watched him out of sight down the road; then she sat down and wept. Jim Mason came slouching around from his sta- tion at the barn door. He surveyed Myrtle uneasily. “Mr. Dodd sick ?” said he, at length. “Not that I know of,” said Myrtle, in a weak quaver. She rose, and, keeping her tear-stained face aloof, i lifted the lid off the kettle on the , stove. “D’ve know am he going to plow to-day?” “He said he wasn’t.” Jim grunted, shifted his quid, and slouched out of the yard. Meantime Christopher Dodd went straight down the road to the minis- ter’s the Rev. Stephen Wheaton. When he came to the south field," which he was neglecting, he glanced at it turning emerald npon the gentle slopes. He set his face harder. Chris- ! topher Dodd’s face was in any case hard-set. Now it was tragic, to be: pitied, but warily, lest it turn fiercely upon the one whe pitied. Christopher was a handsome man, and his face ! had an almost classic turn of feature. His ferehead was noble; his eyes full of keen light. He was only a farmer, but in spite of Lis rude clothing he had the face of a man who followed one of the professions. He was in sore trouble of spirit, and he was going to consult the minsiter and ask | him for advice. Christopher had nev- | er done this before. He had a sort of ! incredulity now that he was about to: do it. He had always associated that | sort of thing with womankind, and. not with men like himself. And, morecver, Stephen Wheaton was a vounger man than himself. He was | unmarried, and had only been settled ; in the village for about a year. “He can’t think I’m coming to set my cap | at him, anyway,” Christopher reflect- | ed, with a sort ¢f grim humor, 1s he | drew near the parsonage. The minis- | ter was haunted hy marriageable la- | cies of the village. “Guess you are glad to see a man! comirg instead of a woman who has | doubts about some doctrine,” was the first thing Christopher said to the minister, when he had been admitted to his study. The study was a small room, lined with books, and only one picture hurg over the fireplace, the portrait of the minister's mother— Stephen was so like her that a ques- tion concerning it was futile. Stephen «olorea a little angrily at Christopher's remark—he was a hot- tempered man, although a clergyman; then he asked him to be seated. Christopher sat down opposite the minister. “I oughtn’t to have spoken so,” he apologized, “but what I am doing ain’t like me.” | “That’s all right,” said -Stephen. He was a short athletic man, with an ex- traordinary width of shoulders and a | strong-featured and ugly face, still | indicative of goodness and a strange | power of sympathy. Three little mon- | grel dogs were sprawled about the study. One, small and alert, came and rested his head on Christophers | knee. All animals liked him. Chris- | topher niechanically patted him. Pat- ting an apvealing arimal was as un- | conscious with the man as drawing his breath. But he did not even look | at the little dog while he stroked it! after the fashicn which pleased it | best. He kept his large, keen. melan- | choly eyes fixed upon the minister; at length he spoke. He did not speak ; with as much eagerness as he did | with force, bringing the whole power of his soul into his words, which were the words of a man in rebellion against the greatest odds on earth and in all creation—the odds of fate itself. : “I have come to say a good deal, Mr. Wheaton,” he began. “Then say it, Mr. Dodd,” replied | Stephen, without a smile. Christopher spoke. “I am going back to the very beginring of things,” said he, “and maybe you will think it blasphemy, but I don’t mean it for that. I mean it for the truth, and the truth which is too much for my com- prehension.” “I have heard men swear when it did not seem blasphemy to me,” said Stephen. “Thank the Lord, you ain’t so deep in your rut you can’t see the stars!” said Christopher. “But I guess you see them in a pretty black sky some- times. In the beginning, why did I have to come into the world without any choice?” “You must not ask a question of me which can only be answered by the Lord,” said Stephen. “I am asking the Lord,” said Chris- topher, with his sad, forceful voice.’ “I am asking the Lord, and T ask why ?” “You have no right to expect your question to be answered in your time,” said Stephen. “But here am I,” said Christopher, “and I was a question to the Lord from the first, and fifty years and more I have been on the earth.” “Fifty years ard more are nothing for the answer to such a question,” said Stephen. Christopher looked at him with mournful dissent; there was no anger about him. “There was time before time,” said he, “before the fifty years and more began. I don’t mean to blaspheme, Mr. Wheaton, but it is the truth. I came into the world whether I would or not; I was forced, and then I was told I was a free agent. For fifty years and more I have thought about it, and I have found out that, at least. I am a slave—a slave of life.” “For that matter,” said Stephen, looking curiously at him, “so am I. So are we all.” “That makes it worse,” agreed Christopher—“a whole world of slaves. I know I ain’t talking in ex- actly what you might call an ortho- dox strain. I have got to a point when it seems to me I shall go mad if I don’t talk to somebody. I know there is that awful why, and you can’t an- swer it; and no man living can. I'm willing to admit that sometime, in an- other world, that why will get an an- swer, but meantime it’s an awful thing to live in this world without it if a man has had the kind of life I have. My life has been harder for me than a harder life might be for another man who was different. That much I know. There is one thing I've got to be thankful for. I haver’t been the means of sending any more slaves in- to this world. . I am glad my wife and I haven’t any children to ask ‘why?’ ‘alive. | place where “Now, I’ve begun at the beginning; I'm going on. I have never had what men call luck. My folks were poor; father and mother were good, hard- working people, but they had nothing but trouble, sickness, and death, and losses by fire and flood. We lived near the river, and one spring our house went, and every stick we own- ed, and much as ever we all gct out Then lightning struck father’s new house, and the insurance compa- ny had failed, and we never got a dol- lar of insurance. Then my oldest brother died, just when he was get- ting started in business, and his wid- ow and two little children came on father to support. Then father got rheumatism, and was all twisted, and wasn’t good for much afterward; and my sister Sarah, who had been ex- pecting to get married, had to give it up and take in sewing and stay at home and take care of the rest. There was father and George’s widow—she was never good for much at work— and mother and Abby. She was mv voungest sister. As for me I had a liking for books and wanted to get an education; might just as well have . wanted to get a seat on a throne. I went to work in the grist-mill of the we used to live when I was only 2 boy. Then, before I was twenty, I saw that Sarah wasn’t going to hold out. She had grieved a cood deal, poor thing, snd worked too hard, so we sold out and came here and bought my farm, with the mort- gage hitching it, and I went to work for dear life. Then Sarah died, and then father. Along about then there was a girl I wanted to marry, but Lord, how could I even ask her? My farm started in as a failure, and it has kept it up ever since. When there wasn’t a drought there was so much rain everything mildewed. There was a hail-storm that cut everything to ' pieces, and there was the caterpillar vear. I just managed to pay the in- terest on the mortgage; as for paying the principal, I might as well have | tried to pay the national debt. (Concluded next week.) Carnegie’s New Summer Home His- toric. Concerning Mr. Carnegie’s new summer home, Shadow Brook, Lenox, Mass., the New York “Herald” says the purchase was completed by Mrs. Carnegie Saturday afterncon. Her trip followed that of her daughter, Miss Margaret Carnegie. Miss Car- engie was at the Aspinwall Hotel for several days early last month and looked over the property. Mr. Car- negie has not been in Lenox. Mrs. Carnegie intends to spend $100,000 or more in improvements. The only private residence in Amer- ica said to be larger than that of Shadow Brook is the Biltmore House of Mrs. George W. Vanderbilt, at Ashville, N. C. Shadow Brook, first named by Na- thaniel Hawthorne, is one of the show places of the Berkshire region. Early in 1890 the late Anson Phelps Stokes began buying farm, forest und mountain land on the west side of Mahkeenac Lake, and acquired a place comprising 900 acres. Half way up the side of the mountain, along the crest of which the estate runs for twe and one-half miles, Mr. Stokes built a mansion of old English architecture, the first story and towers being of quarry faced marble, the second and third stories of stucco and timber and the roof of red tile. There are be- tweer sixty and seventy rooms the house. The interior finish is chiefly old English oak. The Pompeiian entrance hall extending through the house is finished with white panels with Pom- peiian frieze. The room has a white marble fountain in the center. The property cost Mr. Stokes near- ly $2,000,000. In the summer of 189% when he was riding a spirited horse through a bridle path the animal be- came frightened and dashed against a tree, crushing one of Mr. Stokes’ legs so badly it had to be amputated. ! The next year the property was offer- ed for sale, and the house and 250 acres were bought by Mr. Shotter. The remainder of the estate is now owned by the Rev. Anson Phelps Stokes. The land bought by Mr. Car- negie (250 acres) has a quarter of a mile frontage cn Lake Mahkeenac, and the elevation of the house is 1,100 feet. Before its purchase by Mr. Shotter the house was occupied for several seasons by William A. Reed, of New York, and for two seasons it was leas- ed as a hotel. Last year Mrs. Alfred G. Vanderbilt had the place, which is one and three-fourths miles from Lenox Center and five miles from Stockbridge Center. Canadian Efficiency Meets War Problems. During the twc years following the opening of hostilities abroad, Canada raised an army of 340,250 men. This number was recruited from among the 1,250,000 subjects, eligible for service, out of a total population of about 8,075,000. It fitted these nen with the most modern equipment and established six large training camps in Ontario, Manitoba, Alberta, Brit- ish Columbia, and Quebec, where vol- unteers have been and are being rounded into shape. In July of this vear the various provinces had sent 190,000 trocps to the aid of the allies and were drilling the remainder of its forces. The Canadian soldier receives the highest wages of any engaged in the present conflict. Privates are paid at the rate of $1.10 a day, while the maximum for a commanding officer amounts to $25 a day. Thirty-three, thousand casualties have occurred among the 190,000 men sent overseas, in addition to a large number of maimed and permanently disabled fighters who have been returned. At the time of writing, Canada has raised $400,000,000 for carrying on the war and is understood to be on the verge of voting additional funds. The country has contributed liberally to relief funds; up to last April had sup- plied 48,000 herses for its own and England’s cavalry and artillery, and has sent nearly 10,000 physicians, sur- geons, and nurses to the front.—Fop- ular Mechanics. SSSR Plan for Shortening Misissippi River | Two Hundred Miles. | The levee system on the Mississip- pi River from Cairo to the Gulf of Mexico was intended to protect the cultivated lands adjacent to the river. | This system has resulted in building : up the bed of the river from year to year by reason of the fact that all of | the tributary streams running into ! the Mississippi River have greater ve- locity, and consequently sediment! river between Cairo and the Gulf. | This is the main cause of the flood line going higher each year with a given rainfall. Now, the most practical and cheap- est remedy for thisis to make a shorter outlet to the sea for this vast volume of silt-bearing water, and this outlet is via the Atchafalaya River, the source of which is near the mouth of the Red River where it empties into the Mississippi. The Atchafalaya River runs straight to the tidewater of the Gulf, a distance of about 100 miies, whereas, via the Mississippi River, the distance from the mouth of the Red River to the Gulf is 300 miles. The fall of the Mississippi River from the mouth of the Red River to the Gulf is about one-tenth of a foot per mile; of the Atchafalaya about three- tenths of a foot to the mile. The increase in velocity from the mouth of the Red River to the Gulf via the Atchafalaya would probably lower the grade line of high water to two-tenths of a foot per mile, which would reduce the high-water line for that point (mouth of Red River,) 20 feet or more. This reduction in high- water mark would probably extend as far north as Memphis, or even Cairo; thus it can be see that the levee as now built from Memphis to the Gulf would be of ample height and strength to give safety to the adjacent coun- Russia’s Arctic Ports. The recent activity of German sub- marines in waters to the north of Norway revives interest in Russia’s Arctic and White Sea ports, all save one of which will be closed to navi- gation until late next spring, when the ice blockade will be broken once more by that brief but most welcome visitor to North Russia, the warm summer sun, bulletin of the National Geographic dition to the White Sea metropolis of i Archangel, the Czar’s kingdom main- tains communication with the outside world in spite of the war-bound Baltic and the impenetrable Dardanelles. Of the half a score of fishing vil- lages that cling to the fringe of the Arctic Circle in European Russia, one of the most interesting is Yekaterina, or Catharine’s Harber, 175 miles within the Circle, yet having an ice- free port the year round, thanks to which sweeps around the North Cape of Norway. The Russian Government founded the town of Alexandrovsk here 20 years ago, but it has not grown as rapidly as might have been expected, considering its of ice-free water throughout the year. compared with Archangel’s six months of isolation. The harbor is screered from the ocean by a lofty island, which keeps the inner waters as calm as a lake while Arctic storms rage just bevond the perpendicular cliffs. The harbor than a mile long and from 400 to 600 of water. The greatest drawback to its development is the fact that the cliffs come to the water’s very edge, and practically no room is left for the construction of warehouses. The village of Kem 180 miles west of Archangel, has 2,000 people, most of whom are engaged in fishing for try for probably a hundred years or more. Would this improvement leave New Orleans an inland =ity? No. For the slowing down of the velocity of the water in the Mississippi from the mouth of the Red River to the Gulf via the old channels would result in all the sediment being carried to sea via the Atchafalaya, leaving the old channel a clear-water canal, which could be maintained at all times by a little dredging such as is necessary now at the jetties. The railroads en- tering New Orleans could then bridge the Mississippi River there and would profit in the long run, by obviating the flooding of the tracks. The jetties at the mouth of the Mississippi could be dredged to a depth of 40 to 50 feet and remain so, for no sediment would be going out that way to fill them up. The high- water line at New Orleans wold hardly exceed 10 feet above low wa- ter. The low-water line at New Orleans being only 1 foot above sea level. with a depth of 50 to 60 feet of water, it can be seen that nct only would New in | Orleans be secure from floods in the {future but that the largest vessels in | the world could enter its harbor. | The Mississippi River, fron the jet- | ties to the mouth of the Red River, would be a canal, navigable at all times, with a little dredging, per- haps, between Baton Rouge and the Red River; and all that rich country on either side of the river frem the mouth of the Red River to the Gulf would he absolutely secure from floods.—Popular Mechanics. New Steam Auto Possesses Remark- able Features. As a result of prolonged experi- ments, a Detroit inventor has devel- coved a steam-power automobile which seems to obviate most of the objec- tions usually presented by vehicles of its type. In a general way it embod- ies many of the best features of both gas and steam cars. By turning a switch and opening the throttle, the car is started almost instantly. There are no gears, levers, cor clutch to op- erate, while urlimited flexibility is af- forded. From a snail’s pace to a speed of 80 miles an hcur, the car is said to run practically without engine vibration. There is no noise, and nothing to watch but the road. So far as appearance is concerned, the ma- chine would ordinarily be mistaken for a gasoline car. Fourteen miles can be covered with a gallon of kero- sene. The steam is condensed, after being used, and saved. This makes it possible to travel from 1,300 to 2,000 miles without replenishing the water supply. The fuel is vaporized, mixed with air in a carburetor, heated, and burned in a specially designed com- bustion chamber. A small electric blower supplies the necessary volume of air, while the ignition is accom- plished electrically. The latter is the striking feature of the system, for it relieves the driver of the necessity of giving attention or labor to the mat- ter of firing the boiler. In case the car stands inactive for several days, about a minute and a half is required in starting it. If, however, it has merely beer idle over night, or during a corresuonding period, it starts at once.—Popular Mechanics Magazine. Amending Mother Goose. How would this go at this critical stage when to live or not live is the question? I call it “A mother Cow Melody:” Hey, diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped cver the moon; And the dairyman laughed To see such craft, And vowed: “We'll have higher milk soon.” —Ewes that are in good condition require little cr ro grain now, if they have planty of gcod roughage. About a month before lanbing time a little grain should be given them daily, so that they will be able to produce a good supply of milk and satisfactorily meet the other demands made upon them. Thin ewes will need grain all through the winter months, so that they will be able to pick up themselves and at the same time produce a good, strong lamb and a large crop of wool. SS S—— { ——For high class Job Work come herring, salmon and navago. The i shoals of herring in this portion of the White Sea often are so great that | fishermen allow their cars to rest on | the congested masses. The annual catch in five villages of this section amounts to 15,000,000 herring, and the average price for the fish, before they are smoked or salted, is from 25 cents to 75 cents a thousand. The navago is a species of fish which is not shipped, but is consumed by the villagers. It is so easily caught that this part of the fishing industry is given over to the children who use bate tied to a string, without hooks. The bated line is dropped through a diately by the ravenous navago. Fre- quently more than one fish makes a strike for the same bait and the dis- appointed one seizes the tail of the Thus two fish are Each bit of to the surface. landed at the same time. bait is used many times. The season for the salmon catch is from May to November, and the price for this species is 70 cents per hun- dred pounds. Several varieties of fish which are not considered edible by the inhabi- tants are caught in great quantities, dried in the sun and used as forage for cattle during the winter months. In this seemingly primitive region the sawmilis which do* the shores are practicelly all lighted by electricity. These mills, which furnish the timber for the shipbuilding operations of the long winter months, when fishing is impossible, have 81,000,000 acres of forest from which to secure their logs. One of the oddest customs of this region is the manner in which the na- tives have trained wila ducks to play the role of the American hen. The nests are robbed regularly for food and, acording to a Governor of the province, the olcer birds become so accustomed to this thet if, by a na- tive’s oversight, one of the eggs is left behind and eventually hatches, the unwelcome duckling is dragged from ‘the nest and drowned by the astonished mother bird. Not His Fault. It was the first case ever tried in Stony Gulch, and the jury had sat for hours arguing and disputing. At last they straggled back, and the foreman, a tall mountaineer, expressed the gen- eral opinion: “We don’t think he did it,” he said slowly, “for we allow he wa’'n’t there; but we think he would ef he’d had the chanst.” In Murder Trials. “It’s bound to come.” “What is?” “The time when the beautiful ac- tress, instead of telling the jury her life story, will have it shown to slow music as a film.” ——As an illustratior of the move- ment of Far Eastern markets toward the United States for their supply of metals, it is interesting to note that a firm in Hong-Kong,