ALL FOR THE LOVE OF MAN. She thought that love was only this— A little smile, a little kiss, A promise given, a freedom lost, And years to come to count the cost. She laughed aloud at Cupid's dart, And said; "Twill never pierce my heart; For lover's smile I ne'er would sigh; For lover's kiss I would not die.” But that was yestere'en Before the dance began, But lo! this morn she sighs, forlorn, All for the love of man. “All else,” she says, "is vain!’ Oh, pity her who can; Her heart is rent with discontens And all for the love of man. She used to say that love was made For foolish maids who were afraid To fage alone the rials of life That meet us in this world of strife: And freedom, so she loudly cried, Was lost when maid became a bride. Said she, “A slave I ne'er will ba: It goes against my theory.’ But that was vestere'en Before the dance began, But lo! this morn she sighs, All for the love of man “All else,” Oh, pity her who can: she cries, “is vain!” Her heart is rent with dise mitent, And ali for the love of man THE LApy's COMPANION, »M PETE SANDERS" TRIOTIPH. | BY ARCHIBALD H¢ IBSON. So Smithville to he was 1 A PT to the ** bigeer'n all creatior smoke chimbley a i eighty odd feet high. Giles was in a po lie had seen the plans with ‘his own eyes. He was a bricklayer, and the contractor had agreed to employ him on the work. It was an all sum- mer’s job. Now Giles had a boy, Peter: and it cannot be denied, had no affection for work. The neighbor- hood called him a lazy good for noth- ing. The other t ‘knamed him ‘*‘ Pretty Pete,” irony of homeliness. Even his very little good to say of him. mother alone, with the faith hope that mothers have. God stoutly maintained that Peter a good And ras richt. Peter was the kin people, e pe ple find it He was differen any « ' be di to be hund to know f ion re reier, YS n vs ni very his had His and bless father hearted boy ne was to head was retiring trying to thoughts to himself. he knew a rood deal mo ple gave him credit for. But he hated work. generally happened that was i | £3 ] pile { hoe l'eter The \NCes were orf was i he was off huntin or gatherin 1i8 buttertly If not. then he was p back in the corner of that he appropriated hammering away on some n tion of his for using up l1mnl nails. And it was like pullir to draw him away. He was always making something. But as the products of his ingenuity were seldom anything practical his father thought all this tinkering and experimenting was time thrown away or worse. Bat this roving and tinker- ing bent was the Pete's wickedness. There was nothing mor- ally bad about him. He was simply inctured with the irresponsibility of ius, perhaps Work went along on the machine factory steadily all summer Gradually the walls arose one, two, three. four stories; then the roof was put on. By August the carpenters were at work on the inside. and some of the machinery, even, began to ar- rive, The last of the masonry to be fin- ished was the great brick smokestack, a hundred and eighty-five feet high. This was a very important piece of work. On ucecount of its great height it had to be built with extraordinary care in every particular. As tier after tier of bricks was ad- ded and the huge shaft rose higher and higher in the air it became to the country round a matter of growing | interest. It could be seen miles away, and before it was yet finished ‘the Smithville stack” was a landmark that half of Smith County had seen and tiia other half had heard all about. The chimney tapered zradually in ns it progressed upward, till, by the time it was a hundred feet high there was only room enough on the little scaffolding for one mason to work to advantage. And the man selected to complete the job was Giles Sanders: for he was, beyond question, the best workman in the neighborhood. Finally the last tier of bricks was laid and the chimney finished, all but setting in place the capstone that was to protect the top from the ac- tion of the weather. The setting of this capstone was made the oceasion for a sort of voluntary celebration by the good people of Smithville. The new factory was their factory, they felt, and they had good reason to re- oice at its successful completion, lieir chimney was the highest chim- ney in all that pt of the State, and it was a thing for every man, woman and child in the town to be proud of. So it became nolsed abroad that on Saturday Giles Sanders would set the capstone. Saturday wav the day that extent of sewing all the farmers went to town, and those of the women folks that got wind of the doings contrived to have business in Smithville that day and went along. In short, as Giles San- ders. proud man that he was, made his final trip to the top of the chim- nev that bright September afternoon, and looked down around him, he might almost have taken a census of Smith township by counting the number of heads he saw There lay the capstone at the foot of the chimney, jacked up on twa timbers. It wus a great, ponderous, flat stone, with a hole cut out of it, just the right size to fit the chimney. More than a quarter of a ton it weighed, the stonecutters said. No wind we=tld ever blow the top off that chimney, it was certain. The whole thing would go first. A strong derrick had been specially rigged up on the top of the chimney. A great beam had been strongly lashed in place, so as to project out over the edge, with a fastened atthe end; and the capstane was to be hauled up by a wire cable with two yoke of oxen at the end. It always takes longer than pected to make ready for such an operation. The erowd began to grow impatient. Giles Sanders, howev 50 tackle block 0X. he ¢h ney, was in no hurry to have the was bound to ba the obiect of all It was the greatest day and hour of his life. At length testing, every! Word wis gi whipped up his oxen lows strained at the yok he et izhtened and slowly ightened and slowly after much toagzlin hing was pronounced ven, the driver the sturdy { thie fe ii om heavy capstone rose place into the air. stes workmen upward, as if it A shout « the crowd, again while Massive block There was Gile over the watchi steadily rising and then wen ore lookin 1g ney. he too UP-——now there. capstone will Uniy imphant in ‘ Lr down? shaft ne p the Ie, nang on, sibility of the night, unsteady and fal sibility is frightfu fellows puzzie their heads for some 1 rescue the unfortunate one, up your Some one, Ingenious 2 shirt into stripe.’ ah and tie and let down the en fasten a rope em toeether, f, and then we'l on for you.” And (riles sets to work ripping and tear- ing and cutting. with fingers and teeth and pocket knife, Then he ties the lengths together, but na. they're not long enough : little more than half way down The case seems hopeless, must stay on the chimney until next night at least, without Giles the relief, and now the men set to work earnest to rebuild the seaffolding “Where's that good Pete? '’ someone inquired off shootin’ squirrels. He's ‘round when anything's the matter,” answerad another. “No.” ventured his mother, as she overheard the re- mark. ‘‘he was here this afternoon in “Sure enough, here he across the fields,” . 2 jut what'a the hoy got? It looks like alkite comes just like him. I don’t believe thinks as much of his father as he Mrs. Sanders put her apron to her eyes and walked over to meet Peter, who had meantime come running up. “What in the world do you mean, Peter, by foolin' with your kite at such a time as this?’ she asked. ‘Just you walt, mother.” answered Pete, softly as he adjusted the tall and guidestrings of the kite. Meantime the waiting crowd. had begun to gather around Peter, out of curiosity to see what he was about. “What you think you're tryin’ to do, Pretty?’ inquired one; and the une timely banter was greeted by an un- timely laugh. But Peter kept un. ruffled as he went on making his kite ready. There was just a soft evening breeze stirring out of the south. | “Take her and hold her up good,” | said Pete to another boy standing near, a8 he placed the kite in hi i hands. Then. having unwound som: string, ha told the boy to let go, an in a moment the kite rose gentl: into tho air, sailing steadily upwar with an easy grace that told she wa perfectly mae, Then it da vned upon the bystand ers that there was method in Pete’ madness, and now no one dared ban ter him, Steadily rose the kite oi the breeze. {oon it was as hizh a the chimney. Then Pete paid out th string deftly and shifted about til the kite was directly over where hi father was standing, Now his father seizes the string impatiently, as if he thought t { climb down on it out of that fearfu trap. Now Pete ties to the end o the string a clothes line that he ha { brought with him, ** Now pull, father,’’ says he wit the of a man thoroughl sure of what he is doing. His father pulls up the string hand over-hand, and with it the line. Now the boy fastens to the en: tof the line the tackle block that fel from the derrick, and th father druws it up to the top Noy all is plain. Another trip with th line and this time a strong rope i taken up. Giles Sanders runs the end through the pulley, now securely coolness clothe broken arms; strong and pay the under the willing rope witl dangling downward ; i y hands below out caution ; (riles ng one $ : ne i ’ tice about the Just a8 SOON § th ent @ C “r drop through best way he barrel partly is a great { They brick in the { barrel and pour in just bottom of the enough water to come leve! with the of this. The first rat wh tumbles of course climbs on the brick to out of the water. As soon as another victim arrives there iv a fight for possession of the only dry spot. The noise attracts other | rodents, so by morning a dozen or more may be swimming and squeals ing and fighting for dear life. in op it th in get A Newsboy's Gratitude. A well known London doetor was | recently astonished at having a cop- | per refused by one of the Fleet street hideous with their cries. On asking the reason, the urchin recalled the fact that at | hospitals the doctor had attended him and saved his life, But more was to follow, as the doe. tor found un evening paper mysteri. ously left on his doorstep every { night, until he himself stopped it, | thinking that the debt of gratitude had been more than paid by the very thought of making any return at all. A Unique Club House. In Santos, Brazil, the English resi. dents have a cricket club, and the club has what is probably the most unique elub house in the world. A storm Inst year wus followed by an excessively high tide, which landed a iarge bark far upon the cricket club’s lawn, and It was purchased for a small sum, sheered up and made into a club house and grand stand. By a wy Mua of Schtar J ouriste ean go from Constantinople, Turkey, to Alex 4 andria, Egypt, in fifty hours, se FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. THE TREE. Hark to the sound of the summer wind sighing, Singing a lullaby, baby, to thee; While it is singing, gently I'm swing- LULLABY ing, —— Swinging thee up in tree, the lullaby Under its spreading arms lambkins are resting Sale from all danger harm; While in soft nests there, birdlings all rest there Up in the branches, sheltered warm, safo from all and flowers on the tree-top are blooming; All the green leaves have a silvery Heit Balmy airs glowing blowing keep Glowing like moonbeams through- ont the still night And as the n whisper ght wind to them They ulways reply with dreamy niga soft Marx On a stump it 13 Adiror nl of + av inact Q Ee OL One aay ast and out of loomed as ydack was twilight ncertain light utlines of the tree in the valley, ind of Ampersand Mountain in the distance, kiy I saw the shadow of a moving figure, which I made out to be that of a fox. How stealthily the sly fellow crept along! He made no noise, not a twig broke beneath his cat-like tread. As he turned for the first time he noticed me. He looked at me and I looked at him. Then Reynard re- vealed the cuaning of his kind. Still keeping eye on me, he sidled away until he reached the dark shades and recesses, when he disap- peared in an instant. I knew Reynard was out on his nightly foraging expedition. Perhaps he was looking for a wild rabbit or a fat partridge. or, perhaps he to rob some farmer of his choicest fowls. The traveler; he makes his journey after dark, finds his dinner, and retires always before the break of day. \ 1 summer t the dim. u the Ji 1 iis CAGING LD A writerin Little Folks, who paid a visit to Jamrach’'s wild beast es. in London, has this to Ww BEASTS, say : Now there aro at the moment I am writing two beautiful cubs in one of the cages. are old enough to be dangerous, so if I tell you the way I saw them put into the cage they now inhabit you will know alittle of how wild animals are transferred from one place of confinement to another. The boxes that tigers and lions come tn are not very big--just big enough to allow the inmates to lie comfortably. This, beside saving freight, prevents the animal from using his full strength, and perhaps in case of fright or frenzy from bursting the box. a | Well, the box with the tiger cubs | wus placed in front of and partially in the open cage. A sliding door in the box was then lifted and the cubs darted forward at the meat that was lying in the far corner of the cage to tempt them. Meanwhile the box was quickly withdrawn and the barred gate of the cage as quickly shut. It is easy, however, to transfer an animal from a confined box to a large He is going then from captiv- ity to comparative liberty. It is not 80 easy—indeed it is extremely diffi- -—to get him to go through the to walk from a large If there be time he wde to do it quietly cage, cuit reverse Process cage into a box. always be m1 snout can him no food in the large cage but put itin th He muy ) hold out for days; hunger, how- will prove in the i stronger and he will with a make a dash for the joints » trap will be closed against isn t always poss ble for } Per- aps the animal is wanted to-morrow got the order or iy with (rive ¢ large box ever en than his fears 0 make him submit tad 1 ha il the depler nas train afternoon. must catch the in the 316 Now superior FOREIGN CHEESES. Delicate Processes of Their Manu-~ facture Described. soping off As he curd this shrinks gaineq han ii d end They are then molds, sprinkled the mats for from where t the cheese has nt consistency to of the mold, which is at the of the second day. taken out ef the with and left three or four days, are removed in shaiiow wooden boxes to the drying room. Here they are arranged on frames and ex- to a free circalation of air regulated by swinging shutters, for twenty or twenty-five days, accord- ing to the wedther. After which they are removed to the ensling cellar, where the circulation of the air is muen increased At this time the fermentation in the cheese begins to throw off moisture and they are re. moved to the finishing cellar, where they remain a month or less as the ripening progresses slowly or rapidly. At the end of the term the cheeses are complete and they are packed in paper and sent in wicker baskets to imnarket. . th ile be salt on hey posed Toe Measure Tima What is termed a photochronograph lias been devised by a French scientist for measuring minate intervals of time, especially for experimental work in physigs in the laboratory. The instrument comprises a metallic | disk turning freely on an axis passing through its center, while the free end (of a spring carries a needle point { which bears against the disk. This | spring is timed to give HOO vibrations per second. Such a rats is deter mined by so turning the spring that it vibrates between known vibrations of 408 and 522 vibrations per second. Any want of extreme aecuracy in the determination of the intermediate point is not of great importance, as it ean be shown that the difference only affects the fifth place of decimals of a single second. Of course, any vibration in speed of the disk does not influence the number of vibra- tions of the spring. By means of a magnesium light traces of the path i, spring are left upon a sensitive plate mognted on the disk. A FORGOTTEN CITY. Mysterious Remains in the Pinoy Woods of Georgia. To the careless traveler, on hig way through the long reach of pine- barren that covers about one-third of the Btate of Georgia, known as the "piney woods,” there is very little to excite interest or attention. jut there are many points to attraes careful observers, especially along the courses of the rivers whose slugs gish currents wander nimlessly viirotgh Lhe somber sw Hinps. About ten miles north of the busy little { on the town of Voldosta banks of the Ocklacoochee, is the site of an ancient ail trace of which has Away save some long in parallel rows about thirty feet apart for near- ly a mile. Each town, passed of onks, t pines ged ancient street thus about forty feet at regular inter- ier streets, the town havi been apparently nearly a miles juare. Ihe trees tower above all the you marked wid! ith, vals by otl was in intersected ror ng no i hd er undergrowth. their wide-spreading boughs hung with gray moss, Young- grown a dense ts hava ’ : FAYE forming ancient the foot ich has ices of hing on a semi- i= fe sout thworks, cting wield- ght headed iY as other that of business of the to travel the danger ted much demand for his services among people who wished to lay off tracts of wild land for their own future use. But what- ever he did, and wherever he went, he had to be sieeplessiy on the watch for his Indian foes, When he and his fellows tilled the stump dotted fields of corn, one or more of the party were always on guard, with rifle at the ready, for fear of lurking savages. When he went to the House of Bur- he carried his long rifle, and traversed roads not a mile of which was {ree from the danger of Indian attacks. The settlements in the early years depended exclusively upon game for their meat, and Boone was the mightiest of all the hunters, so that upon him devolved the task of keep= ing his people supplied. He killed many buffaloes, and pickled the but- falo beef for use in winter. He killed great numbers of black bears and made bacon of them, precisely as if they had been hogs. The common game was deer and elk. At that time no Kentucky hunter would waste a shot on anything so small as a prairie chicken or wild duck; but they sometimes killed geese and swans when they came south in winter and lit on the rivers, His mai surveyor, for was wiledge country and through it of Indians orp » i S808 8 decided by the Supreme Court in Philadelphia recently related to a peculiar case of bribery. An electric road in Schuyl- kill County obtained certain rights in the township of Rahn by the con- sent of the Supervisor of the town, one Coll, and these rights were given in a conwideration of an agreement to provide Coll with employment for the balance of his natural life. This, the Supreme Court says, was a ‘‘very plain case of bribing a public officer. A consent so obtained, if otherwise valid, could confer no rights on those whe bought it. The contract which was given for it was as worthless as the consent.”’
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers