6 &.OVE IS NO? BLIND. WMV* I* not blind, but *ees through all dls- Cttlae, And that Is why we hear from day today odd engagements causing much sur prise, And weddings passing strange in •very vray. ••"What fan she see In him!" the critics say; &av« ia not blind, but sees through all dis guise; those who cannot use his Roentgen ray At whom I>ove laughs and leaves them to surmise. "t flr.d ia y»Ti what all true lovers prize; Tou find In me all I was meant to be; X»y n>® e now," Barbara said gently. And Carl seemed satisfied, dropping Into a condition of stupor which the doctor who called an hour later re garded with grave attention. While the doctor was attending to •Carl and Mrs. Ward was anxiously standing by him, Barbara slipped down In to the dining-room, and found Bia.tters In confusion as she had ex pected. The breakfast dishes were -still on the table, the kitchen fire bad gone out, and all the rooms downstairs were in disorder. She quickly set to work to restore order; and, when the doctor had gone and Mrs. Ward had come down, Barbara haul cleaned up the dishes and the dining-room, and had begun to set the kitchen to rights. Mrs. Ward stepped out into the kitchen; and, as Barbara was mov ing into the dining-room for some thing, she suddenly threw her arms about her, and cried: "You don't know what it means to me to have jrou back again. We have had three miserable days. Carl is a very sick child. lam all worn out!" She then •at down and cried nervously. Barbara felt embarrassed at first In the role of comforter. But she was quick to see how dependent Mrs. "Ward had become. It was, after all, as woman to woman that they were related now in their common anxiety for Carl. And Barbara tried to cheer the mother by every word of eneour agement she could think of while she ■busied herself with the necessary de rails of the kitchen work. In the afternoon she went over to 'her mother's and told her what her decision was. Mrs. Clark sadly con sented, and did not make so strong «a objection as Barbara had feared, fioi the little trunk was carried again to the old room, and Barbara real ized that, her career had received a tirvr beginning in some sense, she hardly knew how. One thing she felt ♦cry strongly, however. And that was that under the stress of need at the Wards' she was doing exactly the cigbt thing ingoing back to her life of service there. Whatever the days might have for her of opportunity In the future for large service in the greater problem, it was to her mind very clear that her immediate duty lay within (he circle of this one fam ily that needed lier. She realized this more and more •cfrongly as the next few days brought to her and the family a new and sad experience. As Carl's con dition grew worse, she spent more •ad more of her time with him. Mrs. Ward secured a good nurse, but Carl cried in his delirium for Barbara, and ehe sat with him many hours of every day. She was with him when the end came which they had all come to know was inevitable. It will always be one of the comforting thoughts of Barbara's life that she won and held the love of this child. All that came to her long after. But, as this little life slowly breathed itself out in the early gray of that morning, with the weeping father and mother and the two boys as they gathered around the bed, she felt a tender sympathy for them all as if she, too, had been one of the members of the Cain/ily. Carl had insisted to the very lajst on clinging to his mother and to •Barbara. Each woman held a hand •>* the child's soul went out of the frail body to God who gave it. Mi. Morton, who had been a fre quent visitor at the house during the trouble that had come upon it, was sitting by Mr. Ward that morning. When the end finally came, he (kneeled down by Mr. Ward's side, .and Barbara was conscious that the minister's strong, right hand was laid in compassion on the bereaved fa ther's band as he prayed for conso lation. "O our Father," he cried, and his voice brought a relief even in that moment of sharp sorrow to the fam ily, "mercifully reveal to us the hap piness of the soul Thou hast just caught upintoThy bosom. We know he is safe in Thy arms. Comfort us with the comfort which earth does not. have to give; take us also into the embrace of u love which gave an only begotten Son for a dying and mourn ing world. The God of comfort bless this household. In the name of Christ, Amen." Two days later, after the funeral service, at which Mr. Morton was present as pastor and friend, Mrs. Ward broke down completely and went to bed, leaving the care of the house and the family upon Barbara. The girl bore up under the respon sibility bravely. She was conscious of the fact that she was necessary to the comfort of a home. The bonds of her service rested lightly on her, because she knew she was of use in the kingdom of God. The relation between Mrs. Ward and Barbara during those days of grief became very close and affectionate. Through all the older woman's nerv ous and even irritable illness Barbara nursed and attended her with ad mirable patience, giving her the best possible care and trying to relieve her of every possible anxiety as to the affairs of the house itself. "You have been like a daughter to me, Barbara," Mrs. Ward said to her one day three weeks after Carl's death. "I do not know what would have become of us if you had not come back." Barbara was arranging her pillow; and, as she stooped down over her, Mrs. Ward put an arm about Barbara's neck, drew her down, and kissed her. When Barbara raised her head, the tears shone on her face. "Service lias been very sweet to me, Mrs. Ward, since I returned. I have liked to believe that I have been needed." "You have been a wonderful com fort to us. You ari< like one of the family since Carl's leaving us. We shall never forget how he loved you." "It will always be a very tender memory to me," Barbara replied, and the tears of the two women flowed to gether, tears that brought comfort to them and at the same time united their sympahy for each other. That evening, when Mr. Ward came tip after his supper with Lewis (for Alfred had gone back to college), Mrs. Ward said, after expressing her thanks that she was recovering strength rapidly: "Kiehard, we owe Barbara a great deal for all she has done for us in our trouble. Isn't there something we can do to show it?" "We certainly feel grateful to her," Mr. Ward said, with thoughtful eager ness. "What do you think we can do?" "There's that money Aunt Wallace left you in trust two years ago to edu cate Carl when he should be ready to enter college." Mrs. Ward's voice faltered. "By the terms of the trust the money can now be used for any benevolent or philanthropic purpose. I have heard Barbara mention a plan that might succeed if it were wisely carried out. She thinks that if a building were put up in Crawford and dedicated to the training of young women for domestic service, prepar ing thein for competent cooks and housekeepers, that a great deal might be done to elevate the labor of the kitchen and bring intelligent Amer ican girls into it. What do you think?" "I think it is highly probable. At any rate, anj-thing is preferable to the condition of things we endured before Barbara came. Anything is worth trying that will by any possibility tend to help matters." "How much is Ailnt Wallace's leg acy?" "It amounts to about $1,500 now. That would not go far toward such a building as Barbara probably has in mind." "No, but it would be a beginning, and I think I know where I could get more togo with it." Mrs. Ward was growing very interested, and Mr. Ward was obliged to caution her against excitement; so the matter was dropped there. But in a few days Mrs. Ward brought up again in Barbara's presence. "I think something could be done with a properly equipped building," Barbara said in answer to a question put by Mrs. Ward. They had discussed the matter several times before Mrs. Vane's invitation to Barbara to come to her evening gathering. Mrs. Ward had not yet hinted at any means for realizing such a project. "How much do you suppose such a building would cost?" Mrs. Ward asked, noting Barbara's growing in terest. "O, I've no real idea. Almost any amount. It would cost a good deal to maintain it, also. The greatest diffi culty would be to secure a proper per son for superintendent." "And then the next thing would be to get the girls to attend the house keeping school." "I think we could find plenty of girls." "I'm not so sanguine as you are, Bar bara," Mrs. Ward answered, slowly. "But Mr. Ward and 1 are willing to show our faith in such an attempt by given $2,000 towards the erection of such a building." She explained to Barbara Aunt Wal lace's legacy, and added that Mr. Ward hud offered to put SSOO more with it to make it $2,000. "I think Mrs. Vane and some of the other ladies in our church and society will give something, so that we can begin with a pretty good building and have enough to equip and run it. Sup pose you go over and see Mrs. Vane some day this week and have a talk with her about it." "I will," said Barbara, tingling with eagerness. Something real and tan gible seemed about to come to pass in CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1901. her career. She grew excited as she thought of possibilities. A building of the kind she had dreamed of w-as not by u»iy means an answer to the servant girl problem, but it was at least a real thing, and if the idea was properly worked out it might result in great things. So she talked with herself as she sung at her work that afternoon and resolved togo over to Mrs. Vane's at once, and yet even in the midst of her growing excitement and her genuine interest in her careef, Barbara was not altogether free from a depression that had its origin in the best felling she had ever known. This fe'liiig was her love for the young minister, Mr. Morton. Barbara no longer tried to conceal from herself that he had become a real part of her life. The trouble in the Ward household had all tended indirectly to increase her ad miration for him. With the tenderest sympathy he had entered into the family's grief. It was only natural that in the weeks that followed Carl's death Mr. Morton should call fre quently at the house where he had become such a familiar guest in col lege days. Scarcely a day passed when he did not drop in for a meal, or to spend part of an evening. In one way and another Barbara met him a good deal. He was always the same earnest, gentlemanly, kindly speaker and listener. Gradually in little moments of conversation when Mrs. Ward was not able to comedown, and Mr. Ward and Morton had lin gered over a little talk on social ques tions after tea, Barbara had iks and teachers and lots of help in every way. The thing will have to be endowed like a college. I see great possibilities in it. But I have never believed in scattering ef fort. What is the reason this build ing for the training of competent servants cannot be a part of the so cial settlement connected with the Marble Square church? It is right in line with the rest of the things you propose, isn't it, Mr. Morton?" [To Re Continued.] LAST STROKE OF MISERY. The Cilninx of MiNfortnne Heaped 1 |)»u a l'oor Heroine by mi Antlior. Lady Anne Barnard, whose life and letters have just been edited by W. W. Wilkins, was the author of the well known Scotch ballad, "Auld Robin Gray." Her story of the composition of this ballad, as related to Sir Walter Scott, is worth retelling. There was an ancient Scotch melody, she said, of which dad was passion ately fond. , who lived before your day, used to sing it to us at lial carres. She did not object to its hav ing improper words, although I did. I longed to sing old Sophy's air to dif ferent words and give to its plaintive tones some little history of virtuous distress in humble life, such as might suit it. While attempting to effect this in my closet, I called to my little sis ter, who was the only person near me: "I have been writing a ballad, my dear. I am oppressing my heroine with many misfortunes. I have al ready sent her Jamie to sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her mother fall sick, and given her auld Robin Gray for a lover; but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow within the four lines, poor thing! Help me to one." My sister thought a moment, and then, the elimax of misfortunes com ing to her, called out: "Steal the cow, Sister Annie!" The cow was immediately "lifted" by me, and the song completed. The Appeal to Eipcrlenee. Some of the inmates of a York shire asylum were engaged in sawing wood, and an attendant thought that one old fellow, who appeared to be working as hard as anybody, had not much to show for his labor. Approaching him, the attendant soon discovered the cause of this. The old man had turned his saw up side down, with the teeth in the air, and was working away with the back of the tool. "Here, I say, J—," remarked the attendant, "what are you doing? You'll never cut the wood in that fashion. Turn the saw over!" The old man paused and stared con temptuously at the attendant. "Did ta iver try a saw this way?" he asked. "Well, no," replied the attendant. "Of course I havent." "Then hod thy noise, mon," was the instant rejoiner. "I've tried both ways, I hev, and"—impressively— "this is t' easiest." —London Spare Moments. IVltlt an Kye to llusi IICRM. The old man was smoking his pipe on the front porch as the young man left the house. "Things have changed since I was a lad." suggested the old man. "How so?" demanded the young man. "In my day when we went courting we didn't burn one gas jet, let alone two." "Possibly," suggested the young man pointedly, "if you had fallen heir to some gas trust stock about that time it would have made a difference." Thereupon the old man went in the house and told his daughter that when it came to a question of getting a real good business man in the family she could have his consent at any time.— Chicago Post. A llad lircitk. "What's the matter with Rod and Mi.ss Culpepper?" "They're mad, I believe. You know Rod is a hunting enthusiast, and he got in a dreamy mood the other night, and asked Mi.ss Culpepper if she used smokeless powder." lndianapolis Sun. A Necessary llacUKriiiind, "Pessimistsare all right." "What do you meaa?" "If it were not for pessimists op timists wouldn't cut any ice at all."— Detroit Free Press. IBSEN'S WHISKERS. Am American (icnllfnun'i Eipe rlence In KntorUininK the _ Well-Known "Mnater." One enthusiastic Ibsenite, while still rabid, will content himself in future with admiring' the "master" through his works, writes Henry Dick, in New Lippincott. Officially called upon to reside in Norway for a season, he, after meeting the playwright on several oc casions, invited him to pay him a visit, lie found Ibsen a most difficult guest, lie was extremely sensitive and senti mental and his feelings were con stantly being hurt. The morning after his arrival the guest did not appear at breakfast. Instead a message arrived that he wished to see the eldest son of the house. As the eldest son was not present, the puzzled host went to see what the difficulty might be. It MISS MAY PALMER. " (fsk. \\ rC T*L Senator Chauncey M. Depew has announced that his marriage to Miss May Palmer will take place at Paris at a date not yet set. Miss Palmer Is a daughter of Mrs. Henry Palmer, who was one of the three Herman sisters of New Orleans, famous for their beauty. Her family Is an old one in New York, but owing to her having lived much abroad she is little Known at home. She was educated abroad, speaks French, German and Italian fluently, and is a cultured musician. Tho portrait Is from a photograph taken in London and reproduced in the New York Herald. The bride-to-be is 25 years of at:e. seemed that Ibsen desired the eldest j son to act as a barber, that being the j custom of the country. His host ex- j plained that, in the first place, the eld est son was absent, and, in the second, j that had he been present the operation would have been fraught with peril, for the eldest son was conspicuously un skilled. Ibsen was advised, therefore, to seek professional assistance. As there was nothing else to do, Ibsen, weeping, departed and had his upper lip attended to professionally. LESSONS BY PHONOGRAPH. A New Device in Teaching? Correct I'rimu nclii t lon in Fureiitn TonKiei. Teaching modern languages by means of the phonograph is a new ; device. It is employed by some of ! the many correspondence schools J GREAT ROCKING STONE OF TANDIL. ' v ** ' / alllisllik 111 The largest rocking stone known is that of Tandil. near Buenos Ayres, in Ar gentine. It weighs about 700,000 pounds and has been rocking for centuries. Its pendulous movement, however, is so slow as to be imperceptible to the eye, but If a bottle be placed under it near the point of support the ponderous mass soon crushes it. Science maintains that the rocking is due to the unequal heating of the stone by the sun, causing unequal expansion of the different parts. This "piedra enobediza," as the natives call it, is one of the greatest curiosities of the Argentine republic. that have sprung up all over the country in l»ie last year or two. At the headquarters of the school the teacher speaks the lesson into the funnel of the machine. These records are then mailed to the stu dent, who may live a thousand mles away, together with a phonograph and several blank records. In his own home the student sets the phonograph going and listens while it repeats as pure German, Italian or French as the teacher knows how to speak. Having learned the lesson he repeats it to the talk ing machine and sends the record back to the school, where the teach er criticises it for his benefit. Printed lessons are sent out also, but from the phonograph it is ns eerted the pupil learns correct pro nunciation as ha never could from books, and almost as well as he would from the instructor at first hand.: MONGOOSE AND SNAKEBITE. Dlootl of thr Animal Contain* an Aa> titoxln Which la Uritrurtlv* to the Polaou. There is probably no casualty more appalling than snakebite, by reason of the usually fatal result which follow# the injury when the snake is of a high ly venomous species, says the Lonron Chronicle. Even a minute quantity of the virus inj-'oted into the blood will prove death dealing within a very short period of time. Remedies for snakebite have hitherto been limited to attempts made to prevent the spread of the poison through the sys tem and to the fortifying of the pa tient against collapse. Hut till within very recent times nothing in the way of antidote or specific cure for snake bite was known. True, there have been "snake stones' 4 —still used in the east —which have been vaunted as specifics, but from an examination of specimens one finds them to be either pieces of ordinary mineral or bits of bone or pieces of plant roots. It is fairly safe to say that if any case of snakebite is said to be cured by the application of a "snake stone" the bite was not that of a poisonous species. Also it has been said that the immunity of the mon goose, the renowned snake killer, was due to the animal eating some herb or other which counterbalanced the ef fect of the bite. Nobody, however, has ever been able to discover this herb, and it happens that a much more sci entific explanation of the power of the mongoose to resist the virus of the ser pent is forthcoming. That explanation rests on the fact that the blood of the animal contains a principle (or "anti toxin," as it may be named) which is destructive to the poison of the snake, or which, at any rate, renders the body of the mongoose resistant to the action of the venom. Flowing of Metnla, It is, perhaps, not generally known that one of the most important prop erties of metals employed in striking coins and medals, and stamping and shaping articles of jewelry, is that of liowing under pressure. Standard sil ver is remarkable for this property, which precisely resembles the flowing of a viscous fluid. The flow takes place when the metal is subjected to rolling, stamping or hammering, and the par ticles of the metal are thus carried into the sunken parts of the die with out fracturing, and a perfect impres sion is produced. Virwinin'M Educated Xe»roe». Virginia has more educated ne groes than any other state in iluvsouth in which disfranchisement for race rea« sons has been adopted or proposed.