VOL. 33
TRUE FRIENDS.
Mary Ann stood on the back porch
Churning. Her dress was neatly
tucke<l away from the contact of
splashing buttermilk, and her eyes
rested on the blue flecks of sky, show
ing through the leaves of a Virginia
creeper which covered the lattice; but
her thoughts were remote enough front
flecks of sky. green leaves or splash
ing buttermilk.
Inside the dim sitting room her
mother nodded to the musical rythm
of the churn, and the buzzing of two
flies, high on the window pane. The
needle, stuck half way through the
cross stitches in the heel of Mary
Ann's stocking, was held perilously
close to the gray head bending over
it, and bobbing up again at regular
intervals. The warm, languorous June
day courted sleep, the churn dasher
outside rose and fell monotonously,
and its cadence mingled with Mrs.
Smitlier's dreams.
Presently there came a rap of bony
knuckles at the front door. Mrs.
Siuithers's head give a final jerk up
ward and her eyes blinked open. She
rose and hastened to the door, the
stocking still in her hand. "Oh, is it
you, Liza?" she said. "Conic right
in. I was half asleep when you
knocked—these long summer days
make one so drowsy."
Liza gave her . *ts a shake.
"It's awful hard . jt people to keep
clean in Kansas," she complained,
"with the wind blowin' the dust all
over creation." She seated herself
and glanced smilingly about her. "It's
nice in here, though," she added, "and
I'm mighty glad 1 found you at home,
because I came on special business."
"I hope you diiiln't come beggin' for
the church," said Mrs. Smithers.
"There ain't a red cent in the house,
and won't be until Mary Ann finishes
the churnin' and sells the butter."
"That's her churnin' now, ain't It?"
asked Liza.
"Yes. Why?"
"I've got sometliln' to say I don't
want her to hear, that's all." She took
off her mittens and smoothed them
out across her lap.
"Sarah," she began solemn]*', after
an awkward pause, "I've always been
a good friend to you, haven't 1?"
"'Bout as good as any friend I've
got," unswered Mrs. Smithers. with a
curious Intonatiou Which was lost on
Liza, so intent was she upon the sub
ject in hand.
"Well, I've come to do yon a friend's
turn now." Here she paused again,
and Mrs. Smithers, drawing her nee
dle through, held it suspended, waiting
to hear. "Sometimes," Liza went on,
"people's own kinfolks Is the very last
ones to hear things that's goin' on—
ta-lk, 1 mean—and that ain't right. If
there's talk goin' on the ones nearest
of kin ought to be the first to hear It.
Leastways that's my opiuion. Ain't
it yours, Sarah?"
"It depends," said Sarah dryly.
Liza rolled the mittens neatly to
gether and turned the hem of one over
both.
"Now, supposin'," She said, at a
slight loss for words for once, "that I
had a girl like Mary Ann—"
Mrs. Smithers involuntarily started.
For a second she shook as If with a
chill.
"And people was goin' roun' talkin'
about her? Wouldn't it be your duty
to come and tell me?"
Mrs. Smithers did not reply. Her
wrinkled face had turned a palish yel
low under tho tan of the Kansas
winds. The stocking had fallen into
her lap.
"Of course it would," continued
Liza, "and so I'm goiu' to tell you
this, because I think you ought to
know it."
She coughed twice behind her hand
before she began again.
"As near as I can make out." she
said, "it was this way: Jake Saun
ders was comiu' along the road from
Mulvane Saturday night—l think it
was; yes, I'm sure it was Saturday
night—and be saw two young people
driving towards him in a lmggy in the
shadow of the trees. It was bright
moonlight, you know, and when they
came out from under the shadow the
young follow throw his arms around
the girl's neck and kissed her! Kissed
her right there in the moonlight where
Jake Saunders could see, where any
body could 'er seen what had a mind
to look! Why, in the name of common
sense didn't he kiss her when they
were In the shadow of the trees?
That's what I'd like to know. Sarah,
thill young fellow was Charlie Sulli
van. and the girl—well, the girl was-
Mary Ann!"
Mrs. Smithers had mechanically
taken up her work and was slowly
running the long needle tliroug|i the
heel of Mary Ann's stocking. She
pressed the threads down with her
thumb na.il and snipped off n stray end
with her scissors. Her face was" emo
tionless. as if carved in stone, hut the
fingers flint held the scissors trembled
a very little.
"You know Jake Saunders," Liza
went on. "He can't keep nothin'. Thai
was Saturday night, and before moru
la' the whole town was alive with It.
Everybody knew It, even the little
Children. Such things go like wild
fire, once they get started, and the
Cimtmbian.
worst of it is they keep add in" and
addiu'. You wouldn't 'er known the
story by Sunday, they'd put so mauy
frills and furbelows to it."
She looked hard at Mrs. Smithers,
searching in her stony features for
some slight encouragement to proceed,
but, finding none, Sim proceeded any
way.
"Now. sec In' I'm your best friend,
Sarah. I thought *♦ would be a kind
ness lo come and tell you what they
were say in'. It seemed sort of pitiful
like to hear everybody talkin' about
Mary Ann. and you siuiliu' arouud
unbeknownst—em 111 o' maybe at the
very people what was doin' the worst
talkin'."
She fidgeted a moment, while the
sound of the churn filled up the si
lence.
"As I said to .Tane Hawkins," she
wound up lamely, "it wasn't right.
If nobody else would come and tell
you, I said, I would."
Mrs. Smithers cleared her throat.
"I see by the mornln" paper," she
said, "that's wheat's gone up. That'll
lie a good tiling for Kansas—that is,
if the railroads don't charge mor'n it's
worth to haul It away. This ought
to lie a good year for Kansas with
such big wheat crops and the corn so
line."
"Yes; the corn's line enough right
now," retorted Liza, "hut there's no
telling what it'll lie before the sea
son's over. Like as not the hot winds
will kill it, or the chiuch bugs'll eat
it all up."
She flipped a speck of dust from
her sleeve and took up the old sub
ject where she had left off.
"If I was -a lone widder with one
daughter, and people was talkin'
about her, I'd thank somebody to come
and tell me. That's what I would
do."
"I try not to think of the chinch
bugs," said Mrs. Smithers. "If they
come, let 'em come. Any way, half a
crop in Kansas is better fliau a whole
crop in any other state. That's what
the matter with Kansas. Her own
people run her down."
Liza suddenly left her chair and
stood erect, her starched skirts rust
ling with indignation.
"You're a queer creature, Sarah
Smithers," she said. "You never were
like other people, and you never will
be, I guess. When n friend comes to
do you a kindness you ain't got a civil
word in your head for her. This is the
last time I'll go out of my way to ac
commodate you—the very last time!"
Mrs. Smithers remained seated.
"Y'ou'll excuse me not goin' to the
door with you, I hope." said she, with
out offering any special reason for not
doing so; and her visitor flaunted out
of the house and down the walk alone,
heedlessly brushing against the inof
fensive rows of phlox and sweet Wil
liams as she went.
When the gate hiul closed upon hef
with a loud click, Mrs. Smithers rais
ed her head and listened for the sound
of the churn. It had ceased.
"Mary Ann!" she called softly.
"Ma'am," answered Mary Ann from
the pantry where slid stood, moulding
a shining pat of butter.
"Come here a minute."
Mary Ann printed a clover leaf on
the butter, laid it on a plate, and ap
peared in the doorway, holding it out
upon the palm of her hand.
"Look at this," she said, "ain't it
yellow as gold?"
"Yes," smiled her mother, "but put
it down and come here."
She put the plate on tho table and
approached her mother, her face
flushed with the exercise of her work.
She knelt down by her.
"There's something I want to tell
you," she said, clasping the olil wo
man's waist with her strong young
arms, and throwing back her sunny
head with an estatie gesture, her eyes
aglow.
"Walt," said Mrs. Smithers. "Maybe
1 can guess what it is. Let me see!"
She pondered, her finger on her lip.
"Saturday night you and Charley Sul
livan were out driving along In the
shadow of the trees. You were driv
ing towards Mulvane. He asked you
to be his wife and yon said you would.
What a naughty girl, to promise with
out her mother's consent! Just then
you drove out of the shadow Into the
moonljght, and lie threw his arms
around you—and kissed you!"
The girl smiled and dimpled.
"Why, mother!" she cried. "How did
you know?"
"I'm a mind reader," Mrs. Smithers
answered; then, seeing the puzzled
look on Mary Ana's face, she added:
"No, dear, I'm not a mind reader, hut
I've got so many friends—good, true
friends who come and tell me things
they think I ought to know."
"I hear one of them coming now,"
said Mary Ann, rising from her knees.
"You go to the door, mother. My
face burns so."
Mrs. Smithers put down her work
and went to the door. She half op
ened it and looked out
Entering the gate was a middle
aged woman of ample proportions. As
S(he approached the house her wide
skirts filled up the narrow walk,
bending the slender stalks of the bow
ers to the right and to the left. She
BLOOM SB URG, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1898.
! panted as she ellmbea me steps, a
broad smile further expanding liet
face across which the skin was
stretched, drum like, to its utmost ten
sion.
"How pretty your flowers always are,
Mrs. Smithers," she gasped. "How
do you over get tliem to grow like that
In Kansas?"
"I suppose stayin' at home and
tendln' to 'cm has sometliln' to dc
with It," answered Mrs. Sin tillers
grimly. At tho same time she fast
ened the hook on the inside of the
screen door.
Mrs. Hawkins stood outside, like a
book agent, meekly waiting to be ad
mitted.
"Ain't you goin' to let me in?" she
asked.
Mrs. Smithers answered the ques
tion with another.
"Are you one of my friends?"
"Yes."
"Have you come to tell mo some
thing you think 1 ought to know?"
"Yes." answered Jane Hawkins.
"Well, then, I'm not at home," said
Mrs. Smithers. and she slammed the
| door, drew the bolt and went hack lo
her darning—Peterson's Magazine.
ETIQUETTE OF THE TOILET.
Peculiar Method of the Russians In Ar
ruitglnK tlio Hair.
"The etiquette of the toilet varies
j iu different countries." says a contrlb
i utor of Onssell's Magazine. "I can re-
I member reaching a khan in Armenia
j onh\ accompanied by a big party of
fellow travellers. Our party had wan
| dered about for miles, and lost our
i way. and it was so late that we were
I too sleepy to eat. We were ushered
into a long, low room, with beds on
the ground about a yard from each
other. I was the lirst to be awakened
the next morning by a sunbeam danc
ins en my face, and ou looking up,
found that the occupants of the lied
next to mine consisted of a man and
his wife and a little girl of about
three, who had apparently gone to
lied In their clothes. In this instance
the husband simply got up, shook
himself and put ou his boots; the lady
braided her linir and put on her boots
and the little child had gone to bed in
its boots. They proved to be native
(Christians, who have a rooted hatred
for soap and water, more Intense even
than that of Itusslan pilgrims, whom
I remember on board a vessel going
from Constantinople to Joippa. On
fine days a barrel of water was
brought up to that portion of the deck
roped off for the accommodation of the
Itusslan Pilgrims, who occupied them
selves in singing hymns and making
tea In a samovar, a utensil much be
loved by an old aunt of mine, who in
formed me. in all seriousness, that she
much preferred tea a la Kusse, 'in a
semaphore,' althongh she did not ex
plain how she was going to get It
there. The Russian pilgrim's toilet re
sembles the way in which the Chinese
laundrymen dampen linen, for they
would approach the barrel, suck up a
mouthful of water, and carefully blow
It over the head of some companion
whose hair they were arranging."
A\ Incoimln'M Fuiront Dnughter.
J Miss Elizabeth Stephenson, who was
selected to christen the battleship
Wisconsin at San Francisco, is one
MISS ELIZABETH STEPHENSON',
of the fairest daughters of the Badger
state. She is the child of ex-Oongress
man Isaac Stephenson of Marinette,
and is just 21 years old. The Wiscon
sin sponsor was born in Marinette anil
was educated at Milwaukee-Dower
College and LaSalie College, near
Boston. Sit,, was graduated from the
latter institution wl-tn nigh honors.
Miss Stephenson is a magnificent spec
imen of young womanhood. She is al
most six feet -tall and slender. She
has dark eyes and a bright, attractive
face. Her father i* Quite wealtbv.
Deacrvfid H Credit.
"Tommy," said the teacher to a
pupil in the juvenile class, "what is
syntax?"
"I guess it must be a tax on whis
key," replied Tommy. And the teach
er thought he was entitled to a credit
of 100 per cent.—Etica Press.
It has been calculated that ordinary
gunpowder, on exploding, expands
about nine thousand times, or fills a
space this much larger as a gas than
I when in solid form. _
HOMESICKNESS IN THE ARMY. ~
The Cause of a Number Deaths In the
Civil War.
| Illustrative of how nostalgia becomes
1 a serious matter the following instances
are related:
One man from the colored troops on
! the lighting line who came with the
til st detachment was not wounded,
hut only stunned by the explosion of
a shell which had fallen near him.
There was nothing the matter with
liiui but the shock to his nerves and
j homesickness. He spoke to no one.
He would take no food, and he sat
[ huddled together on his cot, looking
j out front the open flies of the hospital
tent with a face full of unspeakable
loneliness. Every morning when she
came to the hospital Mrs. Marsh
would bring him some little thing
which she had prepared for him at
•home; little by little she wakened Ills
interest and finally he was dismissed
from the hospital happy and well. One
of the doctors and the writer were
speaking of this case—Ward his name
was—when a physician offered an il
lustration of homesickness.
"When I was assistant surgeon in
the army during the last war," he
said, with an amused nod to the young
assistant listening, "I had an idea that
I knew more than the surgeon major.
I suppose all assistants think so at
j one time or another, but I believe that
|in this .case it was true. Our major
j was a hard man and there was one
1 case in camp that he hud no patience
with. It was a poor c-hap who was
simply dying of homesickness. I
stopped by him one day where he was
sitting with his face in his hands, and
I put my hand on his shoulder and
spoke a word or two, and he looked
up, and I shall never forget ills look
as he said: "You're the ttrst one that
has spoken a kind word to me since I
came.' I told the surgeon about it af
terwards ami he said it was all non
sense, aud that the man was simply
too lazy to work. I said, 'He's not
lazy; he's sick.' But the major had
his mind made up. and he hunted the
poor chap out and set him to loading
stuff in the commissary department.
That afternoon I came across him
sitting on a sack of grain with ills
head down, and I noticed the way he'd
sluni|>ed forward. I laid hold of him
and found that he was dead. Plenty
of them died that way—of homesick
ness."
There was an odd look on the faces
of some of the men on the cots when
the doctor had told his story, as if the
brief service in Santiago had already
taught them what that sickness meant.
—I-'rank Leslie's Weekly.
Winnie Dutl. 1 I.eft Hnnd Work.
Apropos of the death of Winnie Da
vis. there is a story told of her by a
resident of Philadelphia, which shows
why she was held so dear by the vet
erans of the Confederate army. The
man who tells it was a colonel under
the stars and liars, and is now a rich
man. "But live years ago 1 wasn't."
he says. "I'd lost every penny I had
before the war and 1 had not made
many since. A h;g slump in tiie West
had done for ni.n and I pur up at a
New York hotel with just enough to
pay my ldll and no more. My nerves
gave way and I was taken !!1. The
doctor said 1 must have a log rest
and a complete change of scene. I
said 1 might rest in the grace and
change this scene for that of the next
world, but that i had no money or
friends and would new leave the city
any way hut feet first. Well. Miss
Davis was stopping at 'that iioud. She
knew I wouldn't accept money from
her. so she got the doctor to pretend
he was lending liie his own. I went
abroad and came home cured and al
ready on the way to health. It was
only then that 1 found out whom I
owed my life to. You know her book.
'The Veiled Doctor?' Well, for me
there is an equivocal significance in
that name."—Philadelphia Press.
Somn fVAtcli HlntN.
"It is a had practice to be eontlnu
ally setting a watch by the stem set
ter." observed a watch repairer, "for
it lias a tendency to wear out the
baud that attaches the hands to the
pinion. The hands are tightened to
the pinion as firmly as they can lie.
and every setting liaisons them some
what. There is a class of persons who
set their watches every day rather
than give a little attention to the mat
ter of regulating thorn. They find
that the watch gains or loses a min
ute or a few minutes In each twenty
four hours, and instead of curing this
by the regulator, which is put In the
watch for that express purpose, and
no other, they force back or forward
tho hands by the stem setter or-by a
key.
"If the hand pinion wears out.
which It frequently does, it is con
eidernble of a joli to put in a new one
or plnee new bands on it. and the work
necessarily costs something, for watch
repairers have to charge for t licit
work. If a person knows that a watch
gains or loses a certain amount i;i
each day. it is better to calculate ! ::•!:
qr forward lhan to bo continually set
ting It. A little study of the regulator
will do the work much better. with
out the rask of wearing out anything."
—Washington Star.
HAKE UP
YOUR HIND
To Buy Your
Suit,
Overcoat,
Storm Coat,
Reefer,
Hats,
Underwear,
Gloves,
Sweaters,
and
Boots and
Shoes
isrow
While the assort=
mentis large. This
stock must be
cleaned outentire=
ly in a very short
time.
Gidding & Co.
LONG-DISTANCE FIGHTING.
Impossible to Tell Infantry from Cavalry
at 2,004) YurdN.
"Unless they have hart experience,"
remarked an urmy officer, "people are
very liable to have a very imperfect
Idea as to distances In army held op
erations, and as a result they get
things terribly mixed. When they read
that armies are eugaging with each
other at 2,000 yards between them,
they may think that they can see each
other, but the reality is far different.
At that distance, to the naked eye,
a man or a horse does not look any
thing larger than a speck. It is im
possible to distinguish at that distance
between a man and a horse, and at
boo yards less, 1,200 yards, especially
where there is any dust, it requires
the best kind of eyes to tell infantry
from cavalry. At 000 yards the move
ments become clearer, though it is not
until they get within 750 yards of
each other that the heads of the col
umns can be made out with anything
like certainty.
"Infantry can be seen in the sun
light much easier-than cavalry or ar
tillery for the reason that less dust
is raised. Besides that, infantry can
be distinguished by the glitter ox their
muskets. At 2,000 yards, however. <v
erythlng is unsatisfactory, even with
the aid of field glasses, for a march
ing column In dry weather raises a
great deal of dust. At our recent en
gagements at Santiago the heavy rains
of course kept down the dust, but the
falling rain shut out from view the op
posing forces as effectually us would
tin* dust. Even a glass would not
penetrate it.
"There is no doubt that the rifles of
the present day do service at a much
greater distance than those formerly
used, but no general is going to waste
ammunition at a greater distance than
his men can see to properly use It.
Any first class arm will shoot and
do good service at a greater distance
than men can clearly see, but the
chances are that no battles will be
fought at such distances. —Washing-
ton Star.
A STRANGE LAKE OF DARK FLUID.
California's Mont Unnatural Natural
Curiosity.
Without doubt the moso remarkable
body of water in the world lies in the
vicinity of the Colorado river, In south
ern California. In this region of ugly
volcanoes, desolate wastes and slimy
swamps, the strangest phenonemou of
all is what the naturalists call a "lake
of Ink." No other description fits so
well. _
NO. 47
j. u,^srningo^t)inc^iiui(rimxe^i W ..'
| the lake boars no resemblance to wa
; tor. Tt must some day have been a
I "hike of tire," and even now It tallies
exactly with the familiar description
of the infernal regions. Thick and
vicious and foul smelling, it seems al
! together unfit that it should deface
the surface of the earth.
| The pool of ink is situated about half
a mile from a volcano. It Is about an
acre m area. The surface is coated
with gray ashes from the volcanoes
to Hie thickness of about six inches,
thus concealing its real nature. A
traveler not prepared to avoid its
treacherous depths might easily walk
Into it.
I Experiment has proved that the
black fluid of the lake is not poison
ous. It acts as a dye, and cotton goods
soaked in It keep their color for
months, even when exposed to the
suu. They also acquire a stiffness
similar to that produced by weak
starch. The fluid has been analyzed,
but its component pnrts have not been
[ made known. As to the nature of the
supply of flic lake nothing definite has
been ascertained. It is undoubtedly
of volcanic origin, but nothing more
definite is known.—Salt I.ake Herald.
CHRONOGRAPH WATCHES,
. Thoy Are lined by Nurset* an Well us
IKportftiueii anil Ar About Perfect,
The properly equipped trained nurse,
whether at the seat of war wearing the
1 badge of the Red Cross or waiting
| upon the afflicted at home, carries a
chronograph watch; not the large,
split-second timing piece associated
with the sports of the turf and field,
but a handsome little single chrono
. graph, cased like other gold watches
designed for women's use. These
watches are especially made to enable
, trained nurses to take accurately the
pulse of their patients. The moment
. the pulse has boon taken the large
sweep second hand can be Instantly
stopped by a slight pressure upon the
, stem of the watch; If there Is fluetu
j ation In the pulse, the second hand
I enn be thrown quickly back to the
I starting point and the pulse taken
over again without in any way inter
fering with the other mechanism of
the watch. So much depends upon ac
curate knowledge of the pulse that
these chronographs are an invaluable
auxiliary In the work of the sickroom.
I While these watches are an entirely
[ recent idea, many physicians and sur-
I geons carry regular chronographs for
j the the same purpose. The watch**
j for nurses sell at $5O; those for ph*A
clans range from $lOO upward.—-;ew
York Sun.