Palestine may some day become a great raining field. One of our consuls there reports that immense deposits of phosphates have been recently discov ered on each side of the river Jordan. A California inventor has a now device for directly utilizing solar heat. In the event of its success economists will regard the waste of energy during the summer of 1901 as little else than a tragedy. The fellc w who stole $280,000 worth of gold from a California smelter ex plains that he wanted the money to enable him to invent a flying machine. It would probably have done him more food if he had invented his flying ma chine first. M. Santos Dumont ha 3 demonstrated that as a means of sport the airship possesses are social advantage of being much more dangerous than the auto mobile. Still, it lacks the element ol menace to the innocent and plodding pedestrian. That human muscles can propel a *'heel over good country roads a dis tance of 750 miles in a little over two days, or at a rate, including all stops, of more than 14 miles per hour, is certainly a wonderful feat and indi cates that the wheel as a racing ma chine has been brought close to per lection. Compositors have something to be thankful lor. Here is a specimen of a real German word: "Donaudampf scli iffsfahr t:sgescll sell aftsoberdireet ion bursauvorstelier." In English it means, "Manager of the chief director's office of the Danube Steam Navigation com pany." No wonder there is trouble sometimes in the printing trade in tho Fatherland. The skeleton spectre of famine again stalks abroad in parts of Russia and of Asia. Again the east will cry out to the west to give bread to millions ol' starving mouths. Even with all the progress of modern civilization, hunger seems to torment as vast mul titudes as in the days of the Caesars. Times are sadly out of joint in broad legions of the earth. A monument is to be erected in Chi cago to the memory of David Kenni ion, who died in that city in 1852, at ;he age of more than 115 years. Ken cison was the last survivor of the 'Boston Tea Party." He fought through the War of the Revolution in :he Continental Army, and at the opening of the War of 1812 was on garrison duty at Fort Dearborn, which ihen marked the spot where Chicago now stands. He returned to Chicago in 1846. His grave lies in Lincoln Park, not far from the Lincoln statute. Philadelphia oculists tell us that there is something more in the brassy eye than mere slang. It is a disease and one which affects motormen and conductors on electric railways. Its symptoms are an excessive flow of tears and a dread of light. According to the oculists this is caused by ver digris conveyed by the hand to the eye, and its scientific name is chalkitis. The motormen and conductors whoso hands are on brass rods and the liko a good part of the time while they aro on duty rub the verdigris into their eyes and then the trouble begins, if taken hold of in time no permanent harm results, but if neglected the vis ion may be seriously impaired; and while it lasts a motorman is not whol ly responsible for an accident because everything before his eyes is more or less blurred and he cannot see clearly. The St. Paul eccentric recluse who provided in his will that all his cash, amounting to some $50,000, should be burned by his administrators "in the presence of witnesses till nothing but ashes are left," was illogical, not to say luny. If he had wished to escapo the disgrace of dying rich, and to make sure that his hoarded money did nobody any good he should have burned it himself. Of all the ways of proving that one has money to burn this is perhaps the most novel. It has one advantage over the usual method of brainless spenders, which is to burn money in dissipation or foolish ex travagance. The post-mortem confla gration, if carried out, will at least not harm the owner and will leave the government so much richer. The in cident is another of the little ironies of life that crop out daily in the news. Think of the work and self-denial re quired to accumulate this considera ble miser's hoard, the bitter disap pointments in realizing at last that there are no pockets in the shroud, and the haired of kin and kind displayed In the instruction to burn it—and yon have answered before asking it the question. "Was it worth while?" ob eirvcs the New York World. Among Glasgow's municipal Insti tutions are wash houses, where house wives get the use of a washing stall and clean appliances as well as of a drying stove, all lor four cents an hour. Americans do not monopolize the practice of keeping the courts busy. It is published that in 1599 there were more than 1,125,000 actions started in England, making litigants of over 4 percent of the population. The New York World says that we can smile at British jealousy of Amer ican trade triumphs, but when John Bull intimates that American ladles can't dance he'd better look out. There is such a thing as going too far. Dr. Mary Wooley, president of Mt. Holyoke college, says that "gentle woman" should be a synonym of "col lege woman," and adds that "the sac rifice of gracious womanhood is far too great for knowledge and is not required." Professor Ludwig Marienburger of Chicago announces that the earth draws closer to the sun each succeed ing summer and recedes farther away each winter. Though the exact meas urements are not at hand, this condi tion of affairs has been suspected. One of the bills of importance to workmen which are before the Gali cian diet proposes that every town of 10,000 inhabitants and upward should be obliged in the course ol the next three or six years at the latest, to open an office for those who are in want of work. It must be free of charge, subject to government in spection and its statutes are to be rat ted by the governor of Galicia. The state geologist of Texas has dis covered sources of mineral wealth in that state that are astounding. He says that in one county alone —Chero- kee —there are 600.000,000 tons of rich iron ore in sight, and that In the whole of eastern Texas there are 3,- 300,000,000 tons. By the side of this ore lies all the coal necessary to work it into shape. "No country in the world," says the scientist, "has cheap er material for smelting iron than eastern Texas." Cresceus' record breaking perform ance at the Brighton Beach track marked him as the king of all trotters. The fastest two heats and the fastest heat ever troted in a race are achieve ments either of which would have sufficed to make the event at Brighton beach memorable in the history of the sport. Cresceus' record for the two heats (4.09 1-2) betters that made by Anx on Sept. 17. 1894, by two seconds, and his first heat, trotted in 2.03 1-4, has never been equaled in a race. Great is Cresceus, and may he remain true to his name by ever increasing his honors. The landlady who presides over the manners and edibles of the American boarding house comes in for a great deal of jocular criticisip and some times for a very little praise. Any oc casion to add to her scant praise is therefore welcome. A Chicago land lady has just earned distinction for an act of beneficence. One of her boarders is a salesman who lived for 31 days upon distilled water. At tho end of that period he broke his fast because his landlady insisted that he should. She was imperious, but she hail ner way. Now, any landlady whe stops one of these freak fasting ex hibitions is entitled to the gratitude of all bored observers. But what was her motive? Surely this must have been a profitable boarder, if he paid regular rates. It is probable that her motive was that of self-defense; she didn't wish to risk the possible ex pense of a funeral, remarks the New York Mail and Express. School savings banks are increasing rapidly in number in the Unitec States. Last year the system was ii practice in 732 schools of 99 cities ir 18 states. During that year the depos its reached a total of $876,229. Of thif amount $540,701 was withdrawn, leav ing on deposit Jan. 1, 1901, $335,528 In the same year 300 stations of the Penny Provident fund in 16 states re ceived deposits from 79,010 childrer. amounting to $94,110. Of this amoun l $93,735 wa3 withdrawn. Dayton, O. leads among the cities inthenumbero: these banks, having 316 in 22 schools each classroom' where the savings ol the children are collected constitutinf a bank. Dos Angeles ranks next, witi 392 banks in 54 schools; then Chicago with 250 banks in 123 schools; Kansa; City, Mo.. 219 banks in 46 schools. Pittsburg, Penn., 220 banks in 21 schools; Dong Island City, where th< system was inaugurated in Marih. 1885. 210 banks in 17 schools. HOW MARLOW COT HIS THIEF. \ "It's not only the money he has tak en," Mr. Ritchie was saying, "but it's the thought that 1 trussed him and that he has cheated me. 1 liked him. I liked him the first time I saw him, and I've trusted everything to him al most from the first week he came —and that is over a year ago. Now, it mad dens me —the thought that he was a thief, after all. Only catch him and naif the £IOOO he has taken shall be yours. Put him in the dock. I don t ?are what it costs me. Let me see him punished. Let me see him caught. Gor for him for ail you're worth. Mr. Marlow, and the very day he is charged I'll give you a check for £500!" The detective's thin face flushed. He was young and unknown, and so far had never had a chance. Now it had come; and he might not only make his reputation but £SOO as well, and that last would give him all that was best in the world to him —the girl he loved for wife; and without it it might be years before he could afford to marry. He turned eagerly and gathered up his papers and notcboook "I'll lose no time," he said. "I'll do my best." But all the same it seemed m almost hopeless task. Fred Ember son, the thief, had had a good 12 hours' start. He had gone at 4 o'clock the day before to the bank to pay money in and to cash a check as usual ready for paying the men's wages on the morrow, and be had never returned. The check had been cashed, the money never paid in, and Fred Emberson had vanished. Mr. Ritchie was a hard and bitter man. He had been soured five years before by the disappearance of his only daughter. She had met, at the house of some friends she had been visiting, a man with whom she bad fallen in love. He had been ineli gible in every way—a poor man with no prospects, with apparently nothing to recommend him —but that made no difference to her. Mr. Ritchie bad stormed and raged, had refused emphatically to see him. and had forbidden her ever to mention him again. She had refused. She had tried for some months to induce the two men to meet, she had persist ed in sticking to the man she loved, and then she had run away and mar ried him. Mr. Ritchie never forgave her — never would. He had returned all her letters unopened. He washed bis hands of her and settled down, bitter and soured, to live out the remainder of his life in hard work Now to find that he had been de ceived again seemed to make him more bitter than ever. At first he could not believe that his trusted clerk had really done anything wrong —he would turn up and explain, he thought, and he waited until the morning before he sent for a detective. Now the last ;loubt seemed removed. Fred Ember son had not been seen at his lodgings since the morning before, and from bis desk at bis oflice had gone every paper except those bearing directly on the business of the firm. Mr. Ritchie looked up at the detec tive. "He's arranged it all, of course," he said, angrily. "He meant to go. He always goes to the bank on Fridays to draw the money ready to pay the nren on Saturday morning, and he thought he'd seize the opportunity, of course. You see, he's left nothing be hind in his desk —not a scrap of paper to betray him. Not a thing! Every thing was arranged." The detective nodded. "I must see what there is at his lodgings," he said. "A criminal al ways gives himself away somewhere. He can't help it. If it wasn't for that the world would be a dangerous place for honest men. But they always leave something undone, and very often it is the cleverest thieves who are the easiest to catch in the end. They're too clever sometimes." Mr. Ritchie nooded. Detective Mar low pocketed his papers and went out from the oflice into the noisy streets of the busy Midland town. He sent his men to the station to make inquiries, and then made his way towarus the rooms in which Fred Emerson had lodged during the year he had been with Mr. Ritchie. He went up to them, questioning the land lady as he went, and getting no infor mation. except that she had not seen Emerson since be had left for his office the morning before. Upstairs Marlow found everything in order. The rooms were just as Em berson had left them. He might be coming back in half an hour. The chest of drawers was full of clothes and littered with knick-knacks—pipes and pouches and tobacco. There were boots arranged underneath, carefully polished; brushes and combs lay on the dressing table, and a writing desk stood close at band. But in it Detec tive Marlow could find not a single scrap of paper, not a letter or an en velop or a bill. Emberson had arranged everything. There was nothing to be tray him —not even an ink mark on the blotting paper. Marlow looked round in some dismay when he had finished. He couldn't find ft single clew, not a thread to start ft search, not a thing togo upon, and he made a close search, too, for the thought of the £SOO reward made him strain overy nerve. He was almost giving up at last when suddenly a tiny scrap of cardboard fallen between the mantel-piece and the wall caucbt his eye. He took his penknife and began forcing it lip. It might be nothiug, of course, but he had turned over every scrap of paper and every book in the room, and he would miss no chance. The cardboard came up slowly. It was wedged in firmly between the mantel-pioce and the wall, but he loosened it at last and held it up to the light When he saw it he gave a little ges ture of disappointment. It was the photograph of a child. That it be longed to Emberson seemed the last thing likely. He called up the landlady and held it out to her. She shook her lieaa over it. She had never seen it before, but it must have belonged to Mr. Ember son she said, for her own daughter had occupied the room before he had had it, and the photograph was of no child they knew. Marlow looked at it again and made a note of the photographer's name, which was printed on the back. It bore the address of a small town, and he frowned a little as he looked at it. What had Fred Emberson, a thier, to do with a little child? He shut his pocketbook with a snap and gave a final look around. He was just turning away when his man came back from the station with the information that Emberson had been seen taking a ticket —not to Lon don. as they had expected, but to a little place called Staybridge, half way down the line. It was a trick, of course. He would goon to Euston and pa> excess fare, and be lost at once in the London crowd. Still Marlow sent his man to tele graph to the station at. Staybridge, and waited, still impatiently, search ing the room, for the reply. it came promptly. Only one person had come by that train on the day be fore, and that was a mechanic in a working suit apparently on the look out for work. Evidently it was not Emberson. and Marlow decided that his only chance now was togo to Topping, where the photograph had been taken. He started immediately, sending his man onto London to try to get some information there, and meaning to wait for him at Topping. He got out at a little, quiet country station. The town lay behind it—a sleepy market town full of sheep and cattle and farm ers' gigs, and bright with the spring sunshine. He found the photographer easily enough, and there a copy of the pho tograph he had brought from Ember son's rooms. It had been taken just about a year ago. The photographer remembered it distinctly, because the woman who brought the child broke down, crying at the finish for no rea son at all that he could make out. "1 suppose you know nothing of her, do you?" asked the detective, and the photographer shook his head. "No; but she came from a place not far from here," he said. "At any rate, I sent the proofs there—to a place called Staybridge, about five miles away." Detective Marlow started a little. Staybridge! He was on the road at last, surely! Staybridge was the place to which Fred Emberson had booked —the place at which the workingman bad got out! Detective Marlow's pulse quickened, and ten minutes lat er he was walking away from Topping toward the distant village. It was a hot walk that day. The roads were dusty, and he was tired when he reached it at last. He made bis way slowly through the straggling houses and quiet shops toward an inn. He would have to stop, of course; perhaps for some days, certainly for one night. He went in and had some tea, and then set out to look around. He was all impatience. The thought of the £s(io stirred him. He was remembering with a beating heart the girl he meant to marry— thinking that it would not be long now —when a bend in the road brought him suddenly upon a small cottage. It lay close to the road, a low wall hemming in its little square patch of garden, and a little wooden gate lead ing to the flaggftd path, bordered with wallflowers and lupins and lavender. He looked up half carelessly, won dering if Emberson was living in a cottage like that —if he was in Stay bridge at all—when the sight of a little child sitting on the wall brought him to a standstill. Something about her was familiar. At first lie could not tell what, and then he remembered the braid on her frock and the braid on the child in the pho tograph. It was the same dress, the same child, only now she was older —• and prettier. He stopped and went toward her. She was such a little, thin child, and her face was pale and delicate in spite of the country air. She looked up at him with bright eyes and smiled, and somehow he felt oddly uncomfortable before her. He hesitated before he spoke, and then his question came with a gruff, sharp jerk. "What is your name?" he asked. Her round eyes searched his face. It looked stern enough just then, but it dd not frighten her. She slipped down from the wall and held out her hand. "It's Slay," she said. "And —wbfit is your father's name?" In spite of himself Marlow hesi tated. "Father's called 'F'd darling.' " she replied. " 'Cos mother said so. An' he's been way such a long time, and I don't fink he d ever come back." The detective looked down at her. "Fred, darling!" "When did he come back?" he asked, abruptly. The child, all unconscious, took her father another step nearer prison. "Only the day before this day," she said, "and I was s'prised. "I just couldn't flnk who it was. Hut mother knew, and she cried, and it made her iller, and the doctor was very ang'y." "Where is your father?" asked Mar low. The child's eyes dilated a little. "He mustn't be 'sturbed,' sue said "He's wif mother and mother's drefful ill. "That's why he came back all in such a hurry." She stopped, looking up at the detec tive with eyes that almost unnerved him. Perhaps something in his face began at last to impress itself upon her baby mind, for a sudden droop came to her lip. "I 'spects father's very bovered," she said, slowly. At tha£ instant the cottage door was flung open and a man looked out. When he saw Marlow he made a half-move ment backward and then altered his mind and stood still. Marlow looked at him and recog nized his man. This was Fred Em berson, the thief; this was the man he had come to catch —this was the man whose capture meant £SOO. And between them stood a child whose mother was very ill. She turned delightedly. "Why, there's father." she cried. Detective Marlow took a step for ward and Emberson, suddenly making up his mind, came down the little flagged path. "I know who you are." he said hoarsely, "and 1 know why you've come. I suppose it's all up; but I couldn't help it, and perhaps— after ward —the old man will forgive her." He jerked his head backward. "Have you guessed who she is?" he asked. "Did Mr. Ritchie guess? Per haps he'll take care of her when — when I'm shut up. But T never meant to take the money—l shouldn't have dreamt of it if she hadn't been so ill. They say she—she's almost dying, and we had hard work to live on the sal ary Mr. Ritchie gave me —and I couldn't help it. It's saved her per haps. I got down last night, and I got her everything I could —all the luxuries I could; but she doesn't know I stole the money. She mustn't know till she's well again. The neighbors will look after her, and I want you to take me quietly, so that nobody will see. I admit everything, I'll ad mit everything to Mr. Ritchie, but 1 did it for her, and perhaps when he knows she's his daughter he'll forgive her and take the child. I can go. I'll promise never to trouble them again, but it was the thought of her dying that made me do it." He broke off abruptly and turned back to the cottage. "Let me wish her goodby," he said huskily. "You'd better come in." He pushed open the cottage door with a weary air. "It's the end of everything," Em berson went on. "Mr. Ritchie trusted me for a year—l served him faithfully and perhaps he will remember that, for her sake. I went to him on pur pose—my wife and I arranged to try to get his forgiveness in that way if we could. It seemed the only way. and it might have been all right if I had not been mad at the last, but 1 had a telegram saying how ill she was and I could not help it. I —I —did not stop to think. "I went to him a year ago, for the child's sake. My name isn't Ember son. of course, but I couldn't go in my right name lest he should recog nize it. We wanted to win his for giveness first. It hasn't answered. But he'll take care of her—and the child. Oh, God knows, he surely couldn't refuse to take care of her and the child." He faced round eagerly to the de tective. and Marlow, suddenly, euri ously weak, held out his hand, and made a bewildering remark. "I'm hanged if I'll take the £soo.'' he said. » • * * He has said since that he is not of the stuff of which a detective should be made, for he did not arrest the thief after all. Instead, he waited till the morning, and then -they dressed the child in her Sunday best, and he caught the first train back and took her to see her grandfather. What he said to him I do not know. How he went to work I cannot tell, but when he went back to Staybridge the old man went with him. And when Fred met them at the cottage door Ritchie had the child in his arms. He looked into Fred's face and then held out his hand. "It's half my fault," he said. "If I hadn't refused to see you at first five years ago, when my daughter wanted me to—you wouldn't have had the temptation. I see now how cruel I have been." * « • * Detective Marlow got married a few weeks later. Mr. Ritchie said he had caught the thief, and persisted in gl;< ing him the £SOO after all.—Tit-Bits Tli« Nol«e of Animal*. The roar of a lion can be heard far ther than the sound of any other liv ing creature. Next, comes the cry ol a hyena, and then the hoot of an owl. After these the panther and the jack al. The donkey can be heard bO times farther thar. the horse and the cat 10 times farther than the dog. Strang? as it mav seem, the cry of a hare can be heard farther than that of either the cat or the dog. When Victoria became Queen ol England in 1837, one-sixth of all the land in the world was under her juris diction. Today King Edward reigns over nearly one-fourth. TIE GREAT DESTROYER SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. An Experiment That Will He Watcliftl With Intercut by All Who Are Con cerned About the Growth of (he Kuluou Ktll— Why Mm Drink. Recently, a preacher shocked his hear rs by saying that if lie could command Mr. Carneigie's fortune lie would not waste it on libraries, but would use it to establish saloons in all the cities. Be qualified this proposition by the statement that he would have no intoxicating beverages sold at his bars. Ilis idea that men will not give up drinking until something else shall be provided in its place Ims been ad vanced by many intelligent observers, no tably by Arthur Helps. Indeed, experi ments in a small way have been made on the lines indicated by the preachers, and usually with some measure of success. It will be interestine. and perhaps profitable, to note the result of an undertaking of this kind on a large scale in Russia, where vodka, a particularly ferocious beverage, is of ouite general use and abuse. There could hardly be a better field for a severe test of the opinion that men drink chiefly because of the social opportunities afford ed by the drinking place, and not because of the drink itself. The experiment at St. Petersburg is un der the direction of the Government, and is aimed rnainlv at the reform of the in temperate working people. The substi tute for the saloon is a place of general amusement and refreshment. In a large building are a theatre, capable of sealing 2noo persons, and several restaurants. The performances are entertaining and instructive, and the price of admission is =tbout five cents. In the restaurants meals are served at correspondingly low prices. The hall was crowded at the opening, and the people were apparently delir-hted with the drama, which will be varied with pop ular concerts and other entertainments. That the people will swarm to the hall on every occasion is a foregone conclusion, but how far the resort will disnlace the dram shop' can be determined only after a considerable experience. American specialists have declared that lrunkenness is a disease, and should be treated as such. This idea does not. how ?ver. bar moral treatment, which has been found to be efficacious in dealing with many distinct maladies. While the con dition of the confirmed drunkard may be pathological, there is no doubt that in a vast number of instances it depends on the man's environment whether he shall become a victim of the disease inebriety. This is the teaching of everyday experi ence. The lot of the Russian toiler is particularly gloomy, and there is no sen timent among his fellows against resort ing to the stupefying national drink. It is reasonable to assume that if his life can be brightened by what is offered in place of drink there will be less induce ment for him to squander his money in liquor. In all countries, including our own, it might be well to try the effect of a popular meeting place, where without being expected to drink intoxicants the workers could find helpful entertainment at prices well within their means.—Phila delphia Record. Antl-Treatlng. The action of the Catholic Total Ab stinence Union at their national gathering in Hartford in condemning the silly and dangerous practice of "treating" cannot be too highly commended. As the reso lution justly says, seven-eighths of the drunkenness of the day is caused by an ob servance of this vicious custom. While movements against treating have been started before yet they have never amounted to anything. Now that a pow erful organization, backed by a great body of Christians, has seriously taken cogniz ance of the evil it is to be hoped that all members of the Catholic Church will act upon the suggestion. Really, treating is silly and superfluous. The custom of each inijn paying for his own drink prevails throughout Europe and the rest of the world, and it is only in America that, in order to show "good fellowship" a man must pay for liquor he neither wants him self nor do his associates. The resolution urging co-operation with non-Catholic bodies in fighting for the cause of temperance is very timely, and all those who desire to further the good work will do well to avail themselves of the opportunity of united effort. Too much time has been wasted in the past in following out lines of sectarianism. Tem perance is a universal ideal and knows no religious boundary lines. It is taught by the seven great religions of the world, only one of which is Christian. We congratulate the Abstinence Union on its sound sense, and trust that the next convention shall show that the ideas pro mulgated in Hartford have been productive oi good works.—Bridgeport Post. Boy*, H<lp VouriclfM. I once saw an auction sign and (being ft woman) crossed the street to investigate what manner of bargains were there to be obtained. I was not tempted togo in, for it proved to be a fire sale of cigars and to bacco. Rut I did stand for many minutes looking through the big plate-glass win dow at a large dry goods box in the centre of the room, into which had been thrown promiscuously all broken packages of to bacco and cigars. Above the box was a card which bore the inscription, "Boys under fourteen help yourselves." Anil the proprietor was walking back and forth, smiling and rubbing his hands and saying, "Help yourselves, boys, help your selves; put some in your pockets." Anil fifteen or twenty boys all well dressed and just out of a neighboring school, were following his suggestion. Some were try ing to smoke, some only trying to fill their pockets, all in a shame-faced way that showed them to be "new at the business. And the dealer was well satisfied —he knew that he was planting good seed, and lie knew that his harvest was sure. —Chris- tian Observer. Drnukenness In England. If I were asked to say in one word what was the matter with England, I should reply. "Drunkenness." \\ hat causes this drunkenness? I will not venture to de clare. but from it springs practically all the ills to which the British social organ ism is heir. —London Interview with Mi a McDowell, of Chicago. Force of Example. The examples of numberless abstainers who enjoy the most perfect health and the brightest spirits, without ever touching alcohol, is in itself an efficacious argu ment. They furnish an obvious and incon' testable proof that strong drink is abso lutely needless for health, for strength, for happiness or for longevity. The Crusmle In Brief. Metal beer pipes are corroded and soor> eaten through with the poisonous acids iu beer. One of Neal Don 's grandmothers was named Hate Evil Hall. He inherited the sentiment. Many a poor drunkard knows the truth o f this word from Daniel Deronda: "That is the bitterest of all--to wear the yoke of our own wrongdoing." Dr. N. C. Bennett testifies that he has investigated the vessels and tubes through which oeer passes in a number of saloons He finds them infested with colonies ol mold and bacteria.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers