Our mines are yielding products worth over a billion dollars a year and over a half of that grand total represents iron anj coal. It is a pity that Marconi's wirelesft telegraph experiments were, of neces sity, attended with so much publicity. It would have made a fine surprise for a world that has been so often disap pointed that it has grown skeptical. In 1900 there were in the United States 373 boiler explosions, by which 268 persons were killed and 520 wounded. In Great Britain, during t..e same period, only 24 persons were killed and 65 wounded by boiler ex plosions. It may be that in time no seagoing vessel will be considered equipped un been provided with wireless telegraph instrumnts. and that the duties of the operators on board shit shall be as constant in times of fog or darkness as are those of the deck officer in times of storm. Every now and then some writer calls attention to the fact that the Latin quarter in Paris is not as merry and picturesque as it is represented in romance. It has been a matter of note that none of its inhabitants ever yet objected to getting rich enough to move away from it. Over 600 children were burned ta death in London last year, as there- , suit of the vicious practice of parents i to leave their young offspring in charge ! of premises containing open fires, j lamps and matches. An attempt will ' be made to pass a law at the next ses- i sion of parliament making the prac- ; (ice a criminal offense and holding the j parents or guardians responsible for i death or injury in the event of a fire. j The fire losses in the United States ' «re beyond reason. The United States \ should adopt some measures to check I these ravages. England. France and I Germany are now far ahead of this republic in the precautions taken to prevent the raising of thin walled fire- j traps and in the restriction of super- i heated rivalry among the insurance j companies. The companies should get j together and have a better under- j standing among taemselves. In our I principal cities the fire departments do a great deal of vigorous and even heroic work in fignting the flames after they have got a start, but the underwriters ought to put insuperable ; difficulties in the way of owners who seek immoderate insurance, while they expose their buildings and ! stocks to danger, states the New York j Tribune. An echo of the Spanish-American j war is the plan for a pelota court in ' New York City. This graceful Spanish game is a variety of hand ball, requiring of its players great agility and considerable exercise of strength. The pelota building could easily be arranged so that other ball games o* the Latin countries could be played in it. Italian pallome. for ex ample, is particularly worthy of in troduction in the United States. The combination of strength and agility which it demanus, the superb poses into which the body must fall if the I eavy ball is to be fairly met on the arm piece—all these make it easily Hie most beautiful of games played with a ball. It allows no opportunity for the and the needless crawls which too often discredit so fine a game as baseball. Towing has long been one of the more important industries of the Great Lakes, and long lines of barges, usu ally with stump-line masts, and often with none at all, dragging along in the trail of a tug or steam barge, have been among the most familiar sights to wanderers on these waters. Year by year, in the race so far as possible to increase capacities and to reduce dead-loads, the size of the towed barges has been increased. Now. how ever, the limits of economy have been reached, and the increase in size of the barges carried so far that the owners are confronted by new costs. The boats are so large as to be un wieldly in harbors or narrow channels, while during heavy storms, and espe cially when towed light, they present bo broad a surface to the wind that often the towing cables are snapped or the towing steamer dragged toward lee shores. In the past season an unusual number of such accidents has happened. Vesselmen generally have come to favor the self-propelled .steamer, a3 safer, more easily and more expeditiously handled. Many barge owners/ have decided to convert their craft, though at a cost of $40,000 "or $50,00Q each. Not a barge, it is said, is now building on the lakes, and the experts believe the system of towing great distances doomed to disappear, anco within five years. The daughter ot the Apache chiol Geronimo is to marry one of the wealthiest men in Texas. L«t us cheer up. America may soon have an aristocracy of its own. In a Dublin paper some time since was a biographical notice of Robes pierre, which concluded as follows: "This extraordinary man left no chil dren behind him, except one broth er, who was killed at the same time." The electric railroad to be built be tween Brighton and London is to be equipped with Pullman cars, and the 47 miles between the popular wat-;r ing place and the British metropolis are to be covered in 30 minutes. This may be counted as another American triumph. The world has never seen such a rapid accumulation of vast fortune? as are amassed in the United States every year. It is a shame and a dis grace that, in the mid3t of all this ex cessive opulence, any worthy person should suffer from proverty, exclaims the Kansas City Star. There seems to be no danger that the world's supply of diamonds will fail for a long time to come. The Dc Beers Mining company of South Af rica is now marketing diamonds tc the value of $3,500,000 annually, and states that, with its present holdings it can maintain this output for 144 years. The Railway and Locomotive En gineering Journal is of the opinion that perfection has about been reached in the mechanical appliances used tc insure safety of railway travel, anJ that it is now time to turn to the hu mane part of the problem. This papei asserts that "in the past two years two-thirds of the accidents that have occurred on the big roads were due t.r> overworking the men." In working to stamp out duelling in Germany there is no doubt that Km peror William will have trouble. Tin German officer seems to cling to the custom. The moral courage required to frown at a rule of centuries is as yet not prevalent in army circles. The selfish pride, the superciliousness anc the ignorance wnich aid in cultivating the present day duel will have to be overcome before the Emperor can abolish the pernicious and ruinous practice. The difficulties of the English lan guage are proverbial. Here is an apt illustration. An eminent German pianist had, with williug good nature given half a dozen pieces at a private entertainment, but his hostess, wit.l) that lack of consideration for tlw physical comforts of performers which is not at all uncommon, wanted mote The herr professor wa3 too tired, so with a polite bow to the lady, he said: | "Madam, der ghost is ready, but dei | meat is feeble." He meant, "The ' spirit is willing, but the llesh is weaU It is only a question of time wher ! woman will be freed from much o! j the drudgery of the household, ami i this will allow ner more time in whiei to pursue her multiple interests. Th< women of Longwood, a fashionable suburb of Chicago, have establishes a co-operative home and achieved tli-; record of 40,000 meals for SSOOO. Th« co-operative society owns a clufc house, where the families assemble fot meals. So satisfactory has been the enterprise that a garden has been worked with a saving on vegetable; of S3OO a year. Each family has its own table and its own silverware. Not only has the woman member escaped household drudgery and responsibility but there has been a great saving in the cost of living. This last item is bound to lead to a wider adoption ct the system, thinks the Philadelphia Record. The New York state railroad com missioners' report shows 2345 acci dents on the railroads of the state foi the year that ended June 30, 1901, ia which no fewer than 795 persons were killed outright and 1555 were injured This was a death list longer by 124 names than that of the preceding year. The fact is worth noting that oi the 795 persons killed on New York railroads in the year covered by this last report only 16 were pas sengers. This accords with the latest report covering the whole country, which states the total number of lives lost in the yeai at 7865, of whom only 249 were pas sengers. As the total number of pas sengers carried on United States rail roads for the same year was nearly 577,000,000, it is a nerve-quieting de duction that the chance of death by railroad accident winch every person takes who boards a train is one Li 2,308,000. On the whole, about the eafest place for a person is on an American railroad train. I THE CONTRARINESS OF MARY. J 6 By Elizabeth McCracken. S "Have you decided yet, dear, wheth er you will goto California with ua, or out to the farm with Aunt Rachel? We won't urge either course, but you must decide something before Satur day." Mary's mother stood in the doorwav, buttoning her gloves. She looked anx iously at Mary, who sat on the lowest step, holding three o'.en letters that she evidently was eager to read. "Well, mother dear, here is my last 'complete and unconditional' deci sion." "Really, Mary? You aren't going to have another before night?" "No, mother, I've wavered long enough." "You certainly have." "Don't be 'sarcastical' to, your one and only Mary," said the one aad only Mary, with an embrace that almost ruined her mother's chiffon ruehings. "You see, mother, if I goto Aunt Rachel's, I shall get so bored that Aunt Rachel will regret she ever asked me, and forget that she had ever labeled me a 'sunny presence.' Of course it would be near enough for Cousin Burney to come out and stir us up; but Burney is so absorbed in his summer hospital that he can talk of nothing else but slum children with the measles. Burney is a perfect bore —at times —since he got his M. D." "My dear —" "Now don't be shocked with your own Mary. 1 don't mean anything dreadful, but I'm not interested in measles and germs. Now if I go with you I'll have a lovely time, and Aunt Rachel will be none the worse in the end. So I am going with you. Are you glad?" she asked, with a wheed lesotr.e smile. "Of course 1 want you myself, dear; but Aunt Raehel does need the 'sunny presence'. She is so lonely! If you should change your mind again, re member that Aunt Rachel will enjoy having as many of your friends visit you as the house will hold," said her mother. "Ye-es, I know: but 1 shall not change my mind now. In fact, I don't want togo to Aunt Rachel's, mother. I don't like farms, and —I would rather go with you." A little shadow came over her mother's face; but she merely said; "Then it is decided that you go With us." "Aren't you glad?" "I am always glad to have you with me. Your father and I would be quite desolate indeed without you; but., dear, I wish you would ltarn to be more interested —" "In uninteresting people? Perhaps I shall some time, but I am so tired of them now! Burney doesn't know any other kind; and really, mother, 1 couldn't stand a whole summer filled with a farm —and—and Burney's in evitable enthusiasm over dirty little children —aside from Aunt Rachel, who is always urging me to help Burney. No. it's dreadful! But I don't believe in Burney'3 giving up his sum mer to keeping children alive who have nothing to live for." "We won't discuss that again." her mother said, gravely. "I must go now. Good-by, dear." Mary returned to her seat on the steps. "Mother doesn't understand," she thought, wistfully. "1 never want ed Burney to study medicine; and to give his time to saving lives that are better ended, when he might at least save valuable ones, it is too much. 1 simply won't stay near him all cum mer and listen to him! It will teach him a lesson," she concluded virtuous ly. She had never wholly forgiven her cousin because he had, against her advice, studied medicine with the in tention of devoting himself to the fre. wards of the city hospitals for chil dren. "Why don't you do something that will benefit humanity, Burney." she had repeatedly said, "instead of keep ing children alive who have no past no present and no future but misery?" "You don't understand," Burney as repeatedly had said, "that I am reliev ing their misery for the moment. You don't know what they may have to live for. They are little human chil dren and have a right to their lives; they want them, and I shall help them keep them." "You are very foolish and sentimen tal," Mary said; but possibly she re spected his foolishness and sentimen tality more than she admitted. "I think Burney might at least con sider his family and come to Califor nia, instead of setting up a summer Fresh Air Hospital," she said plain tively to herself, as she unfolded h?r first letter. It was from Aunt Rachel; and it said, in part, "1 hope tiiat you will spend the summer with me, dearie. I am getting to be an old woman, and won t ~Ave many more summers. You may fill the house I with 'pretty maids all in a row,' if you like. . . Do be kind to Burney. He is doing a noble work. Let him tell you about it." "As if he didn't, day and night!" ejaculated Mary. " 'Do—be —kind to Burney.' I'm not unkind to him, and he is chasing a shadow." She began to read her second letter. It was from a distant friend, who said in it: "Father says your cousin, D,\ Burney Harriston, is doing such a fine piece of work this summer, with his Fresh Air Hospital for poor children. Do tell me about it and let me help if 1 can. I suppose you are absorbed in , it. What kind of children are they— I Irish or Italian? How much it will mean to them! And how unselfish of your cousin! I remember seaing him ones at college. Is he as nice as he used to be?" Mary sat, with her chin in her hands gazing into spate. '"'Absorbed in it!' I've never even seen it.l suppose I shall have to or, Grace will think 1 am a heartless wretch. Perhaps I am; but—Burney is so exasperating!" Her third letter had i'ailen to the floor. She sa\agely pulled it from its envelope. It was, as she knew, from her cousin, Dr. Burney Harriston — who was so exasperating. "My dear Mistres3 Mary (quite con trary)." (Burney is getting more hor rid every day," commented Mistress Mary.) "Won't you come down and see my garden grow," before you go away? I know you will see how val uable all lives are if you will just see and know some that are different from yours. You judge too much in the light of your own theories." ("The audacity of the boy!" exclaimed the theorist.) "You don't realize that the poorest, smallest human life is a part of the plan of the world, anil can't be disregarded or forgotten. "You'll come down on Thursday, won't you? Picase do. When are you going to California?" Mary slowly put the letter in the en velope. Perhaps I haven't been very nice to Burney. He is trying to do good, but lie is carried away by enthusiasm. 1 don't know much about slum people, but I do know how they live. They are just like animals; they have no j higher natures. They don't have any j ideals." Mary pulled out Burney's letter and 1 read it for the second time, "I'll go Thursday. I might as well: | and Grace wants to heir about it." She went upstairs to her room and I wrote a note to Burney. In the pos>t- j script, she said, "1 am not yet abso- | lutely certain that 1 shall goto Cal: ternia. If I do it will be next week." Dr. Burney Harriston's Fresh Air Hospital for < hildren was merely a large house, very near the sea and not far from the city, and it had room for twenty children. Interested and gen erous friends had provided Burney with funds for the work, and five or six nurses, who expected no summn employment hud volunteered their services. "Why, Burney!" excla'med Mary on Thursday morning, as they approach ed the hospital. "It looks like an or dinary house." It is an ordinary house —only with more children in it than most houses have." "What kind of children are they— Irish?" asked Mary, mindful of her friend's questions. "Some of them. There are all kinds. They aren't very ill, most of them. They merely need a little special as sistance and good food and fresh air. Some of them would have died without it." "O Burney, wouldn't it have been better lor them if they had?" asked —ary. "Mary, how can you ask that?" said the young doctor reproachfully. "It seems better to me. Burney. But don't look so shocked. Show me your hospital. It is very much like a hos pital inside, except that the rooms haven't so many beds; and there are so many windows that its like behig outdoors." "That's the important part of it," said Burnc-y, eager to explain. "You see tho children need principally ah' and they get a lot this way; and it does them so much good!" Burney fell into Mary's habit of italicizing, and Mary smiled at him more ap provingly. "Now, Mary, I have togo arouud and see the patients. Will you come or will you wander about as you like?" "I'll wander, thank you," said Mary. "It will be more interesting." She felt out of her element with the nurses; they evidently looked upon her as superfluous, and Mary was not accustomed to being viewed in any such light. She peeped into the dining-room, smiled at the queer kitchen, examined with interest the cots on the broad piazza, and finally went into one of the cool rooms, through the door of which she saw four little white beds. The little children in the beds were asleep, and Mary would have left the rooru had her attention not been at tracted by a man who sat beside the bed in the corner, with his heavy eyes fixed upon the small yellow head rest ing on the i illow. He was, to all ap pearances, a commonplace Irish lab orer, but something in his utter ab sorption in the child aroused Mary's curiosity. She stepped lightly across the room and looked at the smail, white face, with its pathetic mouth and droll, little turned up nose. "What a cunning little girl!" she said to the man, resolving to scold Burney for failing to tell her the chil dren in the hospital were so dear. "Sure, miss, an' it's thot she is. She's me only wan, and she's the amidge of her mother. She's homely, but she's real cute." "Why, she's pretty!" said Mary, ar gumentatively. "An' do you think so, miss? Well an' I've seen wuss-lookin' wans." He carefully smothed the coverlet with his coarse red hand. "She isn't very ill, is she?" Mary asked. "Where is her mother?" she added suddenly remembering that the mar: had mentioned her. "Ah, miss, a'ue's dead; an' me little gur-rl would ha* linen dead, too, but lor Docthor Hariilton. An' do you know Docthnr Harriston ■"•'-g''" "Oh, yes, he is my cousin. 1 know him very well," said Mary. "t;uru ii. t, a ~aa ye bo knowin'; and it's proud ye must be to be haviu' him for a cousin." Mary had never happened to take this view of Burney, and she made no reply. After awhile she said, "is your iittlo girl very ill?" Her theories with re gard to the value of such a child's life began to tremble somewhat. "No, an' she's gettin' well now; but miss, it was sick she was. Ah, but Docthor Harriston worked, miss, for me gur-rl I It was near to dyiu' she was, mic3, when he took her in here, an' now she's gettin' weil!" Mary's eyes were large with wonder and interest. "The idea of Burney's never telling rue anything like this!" she thought fiercely. The man cared for this little girl exactly as other men cared for their little girls; and Burney—perhaps she hadn't encouraged Burney to tell her. "And if she hadn't got well," she said to the man, "would it —it would have been dreadfully hard, wouldn't —" "Hard? Ah, miss, I can see as yo don't knew now a mon feels wid his gur-rl. She's all the loife of me is for, miss. If she'd died, it's nothin' I'd had left to mo. It's the most them that's pore has, their children." He gently touched the child's yellow hair, not noticing Mary was silent. "It's next wake she's to lave here, miss, and it's hard it'll be for her be fore she's strong, wid me gone all day,"he said musingly. Mary no longer hesitated. Let her come and spend a week with me after she leaves here. Please do! I'm go- I ing to stay all summer on my aunt's I farm, and I'm going next week. It is I only ten miles out to it, and you can easily come out when Aunt Rachel sends in for groceries; and I am Dr. Harriston's cousin," said Mary with a suspicious break In her voice. "Oh. it's glad I'd be, miss, and it ,,! : I yourself I'll be askin' the saints to ! bless, together with Docthor Harris ten." He took Mistress Mary's patrician little hand In his hard red one, and j pressed it with a fevor that made her ' i wince. "Sure, ye have Dr. Harriston's own 1 way wid ye." Mary's chin went up slightly; then ; she laughed sofily at herself, and asked the little girl's name and ad dress. "I must say good-by now and find Dr. Harriston," she said. "He will arrange everything with you." She went swiftly to the hall, where her cousin stood talking earnestly to ' one of the nurses. "Burney, come here this moment!" ! she commanded, "What do you mean by not telling me the truth about the people in this hospital?" "Why, Mary—" "You never told me the children were sweet, and that their fathers and mothers wcro fond of them." "Why, 1 should think you would have known that," he began, but Mmy interrupted. "You needn't begin to make ex fuses, Burney Harriston! I'm going [ home now. It doesn't matter whether : you can go now or not; I can go alone | —but you'll hear from me about this, ! Burney Harriston!" I Poor Burney was kept in suspense ! for three days. Mary had suddenly ' gone to spend two days with Aunt Rachel, and Burney could get no hint i of the revenge that she was contem j plating. "Mary always has been contrary," | her mother said, and Burney did not j see the laugnter in her eyes. Finally he did "hear" from Mary.— lonIon twelve pages of her best monogram j paper,—and these are the words tie j read in the concluding paragraphs: "Aunt Rachel says the house w'll I hold ten children at a time. You can j send them for ten days each as soon ' as they are well. Grace is coming t) I stay all summer, and so are two of the | other girls, so we can easily take care | of them. The money father gave me ! in place of my tickets to and from j California will be enough to pay for I the things they need. First of ai!, i though, Burney Harriston, you will I just explain, if you can, why, in the hours you have talked about your slum children, you never happened to men tion that they were sweet, and that they made as much difference to theii lathers and mother's as any children, i —Youth's Companion Clllnnxf lloiu-ilv. As for the honesty of these peopK I appeal to every English merchant 1 or banker, from Pekin to Hongkong, to answer if he ever heard of a dis honest Chinese merchant or banker. So far from that, not only has every English bank two Chinamen to re ceive and hand out money, but every bank in Japan lias the same. The English will tell you, half in jest, that | the Japanese is an Oriental Yankee, i and does not trust his own people; 1 and they will tell you, half in earnest. ! that the English bankers employ ; Chinese to handle their money be | cause they never make mistakes. | These people of China have never had anything like a bankrupt law. if a man cannot pay his debts, or some one does; not secretly come forward and pay them, at the end of each year, he has "lost his face." and so he dies by his own hand. Yet. with ; all their piteous poverty, they have S no such words as "hard times," for j everything must be settled up at tho i end of the year. There can be no ex- I tension of time. Confucius forbade it. i —Joaquin Miller, in the North AaierJ : can Review. THE GREAT DESTROYER SOME BTARTLINC FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. I'oem: FUok Off Your ratters—Thank* tc tli« Louk ami Uarueit Crusade th« Consumption of Spirit* in Thli Coun try aruwi Lom and Leii, Brothers, awaken! Intemperance is arm ing; House all your energies, quickly prepare; Though our great enemy s hosts are alarm ing, Fear not, determine to do and dare. ILouse yo! No longer be dreaming and doz ing; - Roll up your sleeves, there is work to be done; Gird on your amor, no weak points ex posing; Onward, the victory yet may be won! Truly, intemperance needeth opposing, Countless it# crimes and its cruoltias are; Tear off the mask, all its eviis exposing, Publish its deeds and its doing afar. Hundreds ou hundreds are listlessly lying Helpless in ruin's lap, oh, what a sight! Hundreds and hundreds in darkness are dying. liouse them and bring them to life and to light. Forward! Oh, forward! on Ood's help re lying- Waver not, falter not, earnestly on! Onward! still onward! defeat still defying, Rest not till you have the victory won. Oh, ye enslaved ones! friendless, forsaken, Save by the few who would gain your re lease. From the indifference that wraps you awaken. Sign ye the pledge and our numbers in crease. Longer remain not inert and inactive; Liberty lingers yet, let her not flee. Wear not the tyrant's yoke, trembling and tractive; Fling off your fetters and dare to be free. Some Comparative Statements. A writer in the Fortnightly Review, Mu. John Holt Schooling, has presented somi comparative statements concerning drink in the United States. England, France and Germany. These statements, which are based upon a careful study of available sta tistics, will do much to dissipate current errors on this question. They yield the following results: In France the total con sumption of beer, spirits and wine for drink in the year 1000 was 330 gallons for every ten of the population; in the United Kingdom, 332 gallons; in Germany. 309 gallons, and in tho United States, 147 gal lons for every ten inhabitants. The great difference in the drinking hab its of these nations is seen in their respec tive consumption of spirits and fermented liquors. A further analysis of tho statis tics shows that the consumption of wine in France was 204 gallons to every ten inhab itants, of beer 02 gallons and of spirits 20 gallons. In Germany the account stands: Fifteen gallons of wine, 275 of beer and 19 of spirits. In the United Kingdom: Four gallons of wine. 317 of beer and 11 of spir its. In the United States: Three gallons of wine, 133 of beer and 11 of spirits for every ten inhabitants. The figures show that while the French consume more wine and spirits than any of the three other nations, much the lowest drinking consumption is in the United States. The American total is less than half the consumption per head of the other three countries. Formerly the French used to sneer at their English neighbors as drunken savages, but now the tables are turned. Gin drinking has declined in Eng land, : nd consumption of the vicious an sir.the has terribly increased in Franco. It is suggested that the superior sobriety of American workmen gives them a great ad vantage over European workmen who are muddled with beer or unnerved by absinthe. l?ut the superiority of the American peo • pie "in this respect is what accounts for a great deal more. I Tho American people applying (heir in telligence to this matter are finding out J that the drinking habit is not good for them. In France, since 1000, some impor- I tant temperance reforms have been ef | fected, not by coercive legislation, but bv j abolishing the octroi or municipal tax of l Paris on wine, and by other measures for I discouraging the consumption of absinthe and brandy. A New Way to Reform. T?. F. Stcvick, of Council Bluffs, Towx has caused to be published in all news papers of that city this notice addressed to the saloonkeepers: "My downfall aud domestic troubles are ! all caused by drinkiug. 1 have said sev- I eral times that I would quit, but I never ) did quit. Now my wife has filed suit for ' divorce, and I realize what a fool I have I been. I have notified alt saloonkeepers i not to sell me liquor, and have told them I would prosecute them afterward if they t did so. When my friends ask me to drink j tlu- bartender will refuse to serve me. My ! wife has consented to withdraw her suit | aud I intend to brace up. The saloons j that sell me liquor will have a damage suit I ou tliair hands." Tlif Cost ot Crime. I Mr. Eugene Smith, an authority on orirfi- I inal statistics, in a paper rently read before I the National Prison' Association at Cleve land, presented an array of figures that should certainly arrest the attention of every sincere patriot. He declared the first cost of crime in taxes upon city, town and county for mere policing criminals is about $200,000,000 an nually in this country. Besides there is the cost of 250.000 professionals in crime who reap an average gain by their profession of jlCOi' each year, or $100,000,000, a loss to the community. This makes a total of $600,000,000, exceeding the entire value ot the cotton or wheat crop of the United States. We Cun Abolish It. It is nonsense to say that we cannot abolish the liquor traffic. The American people can do what they will, and if every man who has been disgusted with and is to-day personally in rebellion against the saloon's infamy, spoke his mind and did hi< will, the traißc would be abolished in a