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.