v\- VVWAVWiI
FROM THE
GALLERY
By Constance D'Ariy Mackay %
They sat iu llit* first row of the ga!
lery. Now tliat the tumult of the rush
was over the girl had time to take off
jior hat and smooth her rumpled hair,
hlie was still breathless, aud her cheeks
were glowing, The man beside her
turned and looked back triumphantly.
"We did pretty well to get this far
frout," he said. There's a wbole lot
of people k there standing up. It's
always a packed lioiise for an all star
show."
"Yes," ii-seuted the girl vaguely.
"You see, it's all so—so new aud so
strange. I've only been u> the theater
once ' 112 >:c iu my life. That was when
Uncle Ik a took me to see 'Shore Acres.'
Oh, that vv us so reul! 1 could almost
believe it was true Will this be like
Shore Acres," do you think?"
The man spread his programme out
on his knee. "Well, no, not exactly,"
he answered. "This Is 'Romeo and
Juliet.' 1 ain't strong on Shakespeare
myself, but 1 thought you mighr like
to see It, Esther."
•'Thank you, Mr. Stubbius," said the
girl, with a grateful glance.
She was a pretty girl, fair haired and
fragile—"peaked looking" was the way
the people In her aunt's dingy east
side boarding house described her when
they spoke of her at all, for as errand
girl, dish washer and general drudge
Esther whs not used to much consld
eratlon.
The boarders seldom noticed her.
True, there had beeu the gawky art
studeut who used to take delight in
drawing her thin, delicate profile, and
who always murmured "splrltuelle"
when she passed him the pickles, but
until Mr. Stubbins came no one ever
had given her so much as a kind word.
He spoke to her when they met in the
hall, and once he hod taken her to
walk in the park. It was after that
that he had asked hor togo to the
theater.
When tlrs piece of news spread
among the boarders they exchanged
significant glances, but wheu the play
turned out to be "Romeo and Juliet" It
"■BTT," HE BEGAN, "l AIJi'T MUCH AT
LOVEMAKHtd."
•eerned as If the climax had been
reached. One of the married women
sniffed reminlsceiitly. "I remember me
and Jim went years ago, wheu we
were flr.-d engaged, and we held hands
all during the last act."
"If you marry Mr. Stubbins you
won't have to work so hard," said an
other of the boarders kindly.
Esther opened her brown eyes wide
In an astonished glance. She had not
thought of Mr. Stubbins as a means of
escape He was not an Ideal lover. He
was red faced and puffy, with abnor
mally large hands aud feet. Still, as
Esther acknowledged to herself, he
was kind, kinder than any one else had
ever been in all her life.
As for the play, the words of "Romeo
and Juliet" meant nothing to her. She
had never heard of that Immortal trag
edy of youth and love. But the thought
of going to the theater was a wonder
ful rift in the gray of her existence.
When the great night arrived her fin
gers trembled so that she could hardly
fasten her simple gown. Her aunt,
kindled Into kindness by the unexpect
edness of the situation, helped her
dress. "It will be a great thing for
you, Esty," she said. "If Mr. Stubbins
should ask you to marry him. Besides,
I've got enough to do to look after my
self without taking care of you. I hope
you'll always remember how kind I've
been to you, Esty, and l»w I've let you
work for your board aud given you a
home. Now, don't sit staring, like a
bump on a log. wheu he's talking to
you, and don't have that faraway look
In your eyes that you've got there this
minute."
"Yes. aunt," said Esther, tbiuking
more of the theater than of Mr Stub
bins
Aud no*. at last she was there—ln
side the theater. The lights, the mu
•lc, the sense of waiting for one knew
uot what ii 11 were intoxicating She
hardly saw the hurrying ushers, the
people taking their places At length
came the magic Instant when the over
ture died to a whisper, the footlights
shone luminously In the darkness and
the great curtain rose slowly, giving
to view a scene iu Verona
When it fell there was a thunder of
applause, of which Esther seemed to
hear only the echo. "A ah!" she
breathed, with a little shiver, and in
spite of her aunt's instructions that
was the only word she spoke all the
evening Mr Stubbins gave up all ef
forts at conversation and contented
himself with gazing about the house or
watchlug the flushed, rapt face of the
girl beside him.
At length the finnl curtain fell. Mr.
Stubbins smiled at Esther "Pretty
good show that was." lie observed gen
lully.
His voice awakened Esther from her
dream of romance to the actual pres
rut of boarding houses and drudgery.
"Yes oh. yes, Mr. Stubbins!" she said
The flush had left her cheek, and she
was very pale.
They spoke little ou the way home.
Esther was thinking of what she had
seen Mr Stubbins was wondering
which was th<* easiest and quickest
way to propose.
On the steps of her aunt's boarding
house they paused. The street was
very 11. The ugly rows of houses
opposite were touched by moonlight—
such nioonlltrht as slivered. tli£ stieyts
of Verona long ago Mr. Stubbins
cleared his throat. "Esty." he began.
"I ain't much at lovemaking, like that
Borneo fellow we saw this evening, but
my business is doing well, and I'm
thinking of settling down You'd make ,
a fine little housekeeper. I took to you
from the first—you must have seen that
and—and 1 w ant you to marry me"
As Esther listened she had a fleet
ing vision of Romeo. How gracefully
he had stood beneath that flower hung
balcony, while Mr Stubbins, red from
the unwonteduess of lovemaking. look
ed more awkward and florid than ever.
She nave a little casp of pleasure, Mr
Stubbins thought He smiled benef
icently. "Of course you're surprised."
he said, "and it's only natural. But I
mean what 1 say You're lonely and
I'm lonely. I'll give you a good home,
and you'll never be sorry for marrying
me."
Esther made n quick, despairing ges
ture 'Wait, Mr. Stubbins!" she cried.
"I haven't said that I'd marry you. !
And I can't say It, because I don't love |
you. Oh, I know you can't understand,
but there are things a girl wants more
than a home a thousand times more!
1 hope you're not angry with me, Mr.
Stubbins, for you've always been so
kind, aud I'll never forget your taking
me to see a play that showed me what
love really means."
She vanished Into the house, leaving
the astonished Mr. Stubbins agape on j
the doorsteps. "Well," he ejaculated,
"that beats all! A man spends his
good money to take a girl to a show,
and then she goes and acts like that!
I thought seeing Romeo would fix mat
ters. but you never can depend on a
woman, anyhow."
THE. NAME "JOHN BULL."
It Was Hie intention of tbr Satirical
Dr. Arbnthaot.
John Bull, the mythical personage
supposed to represent the English peo
ple, was the invention of Dr. Arbuthnot
In one of his satirical sketches ridicul
ing the great Duke of Marlborough. In
the opluion of Dr. Johnson, Arbuthnot
was"the first man among eminent writ
ers in (jueen Anne's time." He drew
John Bull as the typical Englishman
it stout, red faced old farmer, far too
corpulent for comfort, choleric, but
withal an honest aud well meaning fel
|tw. He clothed him In leather breeches
and top boots, put a stout oaken cudgel
In bis hand and a bulldog at his heels
and set him up for all time to serve as
the representative Englishman
1 He may have been not so bad a cari
cature In the days of Queen Anne, but
today certainly there is much force In
an English critic's remark that "he
completely hides the Englishman of
real life." The average Englishman of
today Is physically no stouter certainly
than—probably not so stout as—the av
j erage American, and the stout cudgel
and the bulldog are no longer apt sym
bols of the modern Britisher's disposi
tion. lie has lost the excessive pugnaci
ty of his forefathers and Is. above all,
anxious to keep the peace with his Un
■ pie Samuel.—London Standard.
SILVER MINES.
The Way .Nature Forms These Depos
its of Precious Metal.
The process by which nature forms
her silver mines Is very interesting. It
must be remembered that the earth's i
crust Is full of water, which percolates
everywhere through the rocks, making
solutions of elements obtained from
them. These solutions take up small
particles of precious metal which they
find here and there.
Sometimes the solutions in question
are hot, the water having got so far
down as to be set boiling by the inter
nal heat of the globe. Then they rush
upward, picking up the bits of metal as
they go. Naturally heat assists th»
performance of this operation.
Now and then the streams thus form
ed, perpetually flowing hither and
thither below the ground, pass through
cracks or cavities in the rocks, where
they deposit their lodes of sliver. This
Is kept up for a great length of time
perhaps thousands of years—until the
pocket It filled up.
Crannies permeating the stony mass i
in every direction may become filled
with the precious metal or occasionally j
a chamber may be stored full of It as I
If 1,000,Q»H) hands were fetching the
treasures from all sides and hiding j
away a mine for some lucky prospector !
to discover In another ago.
SPECKLED TOBACCO.
Mot* the Little Yellow Spots Are
Formed on the leaf.
"Little yellow specks on the wrapper
are positive Indications of a cigar's ex
cellence. Choose a speckled cigar, and
you can't go wrong."
The speaker was a skate salesman.
The tobacco salesman laughed at him.
"Are you a victim of that error, too?"
he said. "Listen and I'll tell you all
about those little yellow specks.
"We are In Cuba. In mile long rows
grow the tobacco plants In a blinding
sunlight. Suddenly the sky Is overcast,
a shadow falls. Then the clouds disap
pear and the suu shines again upon
plants dotted her? and there with Im
mense raindrops raindrops peculiar to
Cuba, as large as the largest pearls.
"These drops become burniug glasses
In the sunlight. The same as real
lenses they concentrate the sun's heat,
and ou the leaf beneath them the little
specks that you venerate are burned.
These little yellow specks Indicate the
tobacco's quality no more than freckles
on a man's face Indicate his ability.
"To choose cigars by Jielr specks is
as foolish as It would be to choose
salesmen by their freckles."—Chicago
Chronicle.
tVlint ••llftinlr*' Meant.
Though the Scottish guard of France
had long lost its natural character, it
Jealously retained until the crash of
ITS'.t all its curious old privileges,
which, though ihey led to constant
wrangles with other regiments, had
beeu litl.v all me | by Louis XIV. He
was actually obliged to lutervene at
his own wedding to compose a dispute
us to the precedence of the Scots
gaard and the Cent gentilshommes.
"Proud a-- a Scotchman" was an old
proverb in France, and their successors
In the b t lyguard did their best to jus
tify it. But the most curious survival.
lon, after a word of Scotch had been
hen ill in the corps, was the practice of
answering *'lihinlr"' <a corruption for"I
am here"i when the roll was called,
which was religiously maintained, at
all events, down to the revolution.—
Macmillan's Magazine.
••Carat" »> A|>plle<l to Diamonds.
Although the term "carat" Is applied
to diamonds as well as to gold. It does
not mean the Ratne thing Used with
regard to the metal It expresses quality
or fineness, 2-\ carat, being pure gold
and "2 carat equal to coined gold But
applied to the diamond carat means ac
tual weight, and by this measure 115*4
carats are equal to an ounce troy. Th«
value of a diamond is not merely so
much per carat, Irrespective of size,
but increases in an increasing ratio
with the weight of the stone
Ladu Moon
HD A. M. DAVIKS ogdp.N
jl ' ui'HlUJht. I."y. Itu Ituhu /
Outside the stately old mansion the
press of carriages was growing almost
unmanageable. Within the tipple of
soft laughter aud waving of many fans,
the glitter and glow of diamonds be
spoke the fact that Lady Cheyneuiore
had thrown open Little Barrington
House for the celebrated tableaux of
which all London had been talking for
the week past.
The greatest beauties of the season
were to pose, well known artists had
consented to arrange and drape their
1 lovely models, and "everybody" was
I there.
Near the door, a little out of the
i crush, Nigel Anstruther stood and
i looked about him with the eyes of
! the man to whom Loudon sights have
been strange for the last six years.
He was a little amused and a little
I bored. Society fuuctlous were not
much in his line. Just back from In
| dia on leave, he had ruu up to town to
I see one or two old frleuds, aud Ilono
! ria Derwentwater, having no spare
j moment to grant liiui from her other
guests, had suggested his coming onto
j Lady Cheynemore's.
It was rather a nuisance, but he
i wanted to get back lo the country next
morning if possible. And, after all,
the i- dor, the lights, the pretty women,
were not so bad. Presently he must
in, . Ilonoria ;;ud ask the question that
this : 112 term ton's crowd had rendered
impossible to put. It was expected of
him, he supposed. His people had al
ways hoped tor it. And then ali at
once, by u sudden freak of the imag
ination, as he glanced about for the
fair English face there rose before him
the laughing, mischievous eyes of the
little American girl who had teased,
bewildered aud thoroughly enchanted
him duriug those few brief weeks in
Simla. Where was she now'/
Involuntarily his thoughts wandered
back to the day wheu he had seen her
first, dainty and sweet lu fluffy white,
sitting under a marquee at the vice
roy's reception. She seemed such a lit
tle thing that he started in surprise
wheu she complained of being unable
to secure a really good riding horse.
The hands she held out for Inspection
were absurdly small. Still doubtful, he
had yet managed to get for her the
best woman's mount to be had In Sim
la. But the first minute she was up his
misgivings vanished. She certainly
could ride.
After that every day they were out
together exploring the bills, trotting
gayly over the smooth, hard roads.
Mrs. Wharton, ouly too glad that Ethel
had found some one togo with her,
consenting willingly. And every day
Anstruther's admiration deepened. If
there w-as one thlug he approved most
It was a good seat.
The girl's father was dead, and she
and her mother, a frail but ludomita
ble spirited woman, were leisurely see
lug the world. After stilling in Bom
bay, they had run up to Simla for the
breezes and lingered ou, pleased with
the queer little town and the Anglo-
Indian life. It was quite gay at that
season. Simla was full, and every day
there were dinners, luncheons, teas and
picnics
Would Anstruther ever forget the
moonlight picnic he gave? The night
bad been glorious. U: der the soft glow
of an Indian moon the hills lay mistily
radiant, every leaf on the deodars
seeming to stand out with vivid life.
Ethel Wharton aud Anstruther with
i several others had gone on horseback,
the rest of the party in rickshaws with
I coolies to carry the provisions. The pic
nic had been a great success. And then
came the ride home. By a mutual
though unspoken impulse Anstruther
and Ethel had dropped back of the
others. Both were conscious of a cer
: tain exaltation of mood, a vague ex
clteinent due to the influence of the
| moon—perhaps. Gradually their talk,
j at first animated and quick, sluckened
I to monosyllables and at last died
i away
For several moments they rode on hi
j silence; then, as If oppressed by the
1 stillness, the girl began to sing. To
! music of her own she had set some
J words by George Mac Donald: "Lady
1 Moon, Lady Moon, where are you rov
' lng? Over the sea. Lady Moon, Lady
| Moou, whom are you loving? All who
love me."
Anstruther, listening, was aware of a
sudden pang. Wus she going over the
sea? Would she be going home?
"Lady Moon," he began unsteadily.
"Ah, that Is you so white, so fair, so
perfect! And you, too, will pass from
us! What shall we do without your
light?"
The girl glanced at him quickly.
"Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are
you loving?" she hummed. Anstruther,
his heart suddenly tteating fast, leaned
forward.
"Do you mean that?" he demanded
tensely. "Do you love those who love
you? For you know that I, Ethel"—
as something In the girl's face made
his pulses leap. But, the great crimson
waves flooding up over brow and
cheek, she touched her horse smartly.
"Come," she said breathlessly, "I'll
race you home.
went back that night to
his quarters, a glad exultation tingling
through every vein She eared, he was
sure she cared
And then tiie sight of a long official
looking envelope on Ills table for a mo
ment drove every other thought from
his mind His orders were to report
at once. There had been a sharp up
rising 111 the bills He must take his
reg ••nt out without delay, nor could
he tell how long his absence might be.
With li- rely time to fling a few neces
saries into his kit bag aud scratch a
hasty note to Miss \\ barton lie was off.
Three weeks later, returning, tired,
bronzed aud eager, the first thing to
meet his eyes was the note still lying
where the forgetful boy had left It.
And Miss Wharton and her mother
were gone. Ten days ago they bad
left, he was told. There was no clew
by which to follow them; no one knew
whither they had departed.
Anstruther, torturing himself with
vain imaginings as to what she must
lave thought of him. nearly went mad.
lie could hardly sleep. The man grew
liervous, irritable, until even the colo
nel noticed it aud recommended a trip
home. As a consequence Anstruther
now stood In Lady Cheynemore's draw
ing room anii indifferent to what be
came of hlin, vva:ted to ask lionorla
Derwentwater lo he his wife. After
ali he had always known Ilonoria.
Probably they would get on as well as
most married couples \nd the dad
would be pleased.
There was a sudden ripple of talk at
his side. "Here Is the next. What,
you have not met her yet? My dear,
ahs_ ls_ the beauty this season, Jtuit
wail atld V nil H ill see."
An>n uili'T listened with his tolerant
smile. He must into reach Ilonorla.
Hut us he > 1 IIT« ■«I :ill ai once the lights
were lowered, ami he. perforce, halted.
Well, lie could wait until the tableau
was over. \ faint curiosity, too, was
awakened b\ what lit- caught from his
neighbors. Who was this new beauty?
And then he started violently. From
' the piano came a few bars of prelude
; oddly familiar. The curtain rose, and
! the picture stood revealed. In the
Quick murmur of applause Anstruther s
- ! sharp exclamation escaped unnoticed.
I There. infolded ill long. clinging dra
peries, her lovely hair unbound, one
I arm thrown negligently up behind the
I small head, re-ted his lady, a huge sll
• ver crescent seeming to bear her
. j through limitless space. Her face was
I lifted. Her eyes gazed wistfully into
t \ the distance.
"Lady Moon. Lady Moon, where are
you roving?" sung the famous soprano,
, but Anstrutlier hardly heard. Ills
i breath was ruining with difficulty; his
neart was pounding. S > she had not
forgotten! La ly Moon, oh. Lady Moon!
As the curtain dropped he turned to
the man next him, whom luckily he
; chanced to have met.
"It—it is Miss Wharton, is it not?"
be asked, and as the other nodded a
! quick gratitude welled up within him.
Thank heaven, he was not too late!
I "Won't you take me back?" lie de
, matuled. "It Is all right," in answer to
a look of surprise. "We—we are old
friends. 1 ustd to know her In India,
and—and there is something 1 ought to
tell her."
ihe Diplomat to Clerk.
"Henry, you haven't a room left,
have you?" Inquired a New York drum
mer of his friend of many years' stand
ing on the other side of the counter of
; • the Chicago hotel.
"Not one," replied llenry. "but I'll
' look over the ruck again and see if 1
can't thai i ..u a place somewhere."
"All right." siti.l the New Yorker
while h;> friend gave the slips his anx
ious atteuLou I.ight broke over his
face i i a moment, and he came back.
"A man in on the parlor floor gave
up h;s loom about an hour ago, but he
didn't export to leave it quite so soon.
11l mnJ up an I -«■ if I can't hurr.v
j him a little."
The l oner's hell was rung, a whis
pered colloquy tooi; place between Hen
i ry and th.it blue shirted functionary,
and in tifteeu minutes the man from
| New Yotk was rejoicing in one of"the
; best rooms in the house."
liut the clerk omitted t > inform him
that the previous occupant had given
up his roJin at the precise moment
) when he had given up his life
HIDDEN GOLD.
The Hoard of IVecloim Metal That I*
Seer«-t«-»l In Imlia.
It would be an immense benefit to al.
mankind if the stores of gold held b}
individuals in India could be made
I available for general use. Ever since
j the dawn of history that country has
been gathering gold and hiding It away
Treasures of almost incalrulable value
ure possessed by many Indian princes
When the niaharajah of Burdwan died
the stock of goid and silver left by him
was so large that no member of the
family could make an accurate esti
| mate of it. A report made to the Brit
lsh government by a secret agent stat
. eil that on the estate of the defunct po
tentate were a number of treasure
! houses, one of them containing thre«
j rooms. The largest of these three
j rooms was forty eight feet long and
j was tilled with ornaments of gold and
i silver, plates and cups, washing bowls.
I Jugs and so forth all of precious met
I als. The other two rooms were full of
j bags and boxes of gold mohurs and
! silver rupees. '1 he door of this and
other treasure houses had been bricked
up for nobody knows how long.
These valuables, according to an un
dent custom, were in the custody of
the niaharajah's wife, the vaults being
attached to her apartments, but none
of them was allowed to be opened save
lu the presence of the master. One
vault was tilled with ornaments belong
ing to different gods of the family. Tha
natives of India commonly bury their
hoards, and among the poorer classes
a favorite hiding place Is a hole dug
beneath the bed. Disused welis ara
sometimes employed for the same pur
pose. It Is undoubtedly a fact that
very many hoards thus deposited are
lost forever Gold is also valued on re
ligious grounds. The gods take up
great quantities of gold, sliver and
precious stones. The temples contain
vast amounts «.f the yellow and white
metals The habit of hoarding seems
to have been induced by ages of mis-
I government, during which oppression
and violence were rife. No feeling of
safety existing, It was natural that the
native® should adopt the practice of re
ducing their wealth to a concentrated
shape and hiding It Brooklyn Eagle.
POINTED PARAGRAPHS.
The day after you meet the average
man he asks you to take sides.
Flattery has a prettj bad name, but
It gets belter returns than disagree
able candor.
Of this you may be sure--that the
black sheep in every family was once
the most petted lamb.
When a baby cries lu its father's
arms he discovers that it is crying be
cause it wants togo to you.
A man never knows until he has
fallen into a hole how many paths he
might have taken to avoid it.
When two men get their pencils
mixed, ever notice how jealously the
owner of the longer pencil insists on
getting his own back?
Time tiies so rapidly that It seems
only a few mouths from the time a
boy Is crying for a jumping jack until
ho is paying for it Atchison Globe.
SYMPATHETIC LISTENERS
Tin- Help The) May \lYord t« Slow
itiitl Indifferent Til I kern.
At no time more than when a thouglit
is struggling toward expression should
u friend bear with a friend's infirmi
ties. A deep sympathy should be pour
ed out with lavish affection about the
one who is seriously striving to say
some real thing In this atmosphere ot
patient, sympathetic intelligence tha
inept word, the crude phrase, the whol
ly Inadequate expression will lie en
ablet i to do their work, and the thought
transference will be effected; the
thought will be safely lodged in the
mind of the other, slightly bruised in
transit, but intact and intelligible.
With an I Know what you mean,"
"Exactly." or "Goon; 1 understand,"
much help may be rendered, and at
last when the thinker of the thought
has pi. teed h's friend in possession and
by i >.a >n of this effort has entered In
to full,'i , •< i of it himself, the
con\ei ■ n a way to begin.
Thru 1 i i i a tie- elaboration of the
tliorgiit all the beauties that can be
WOM a O;l of words precision, bal
ance. mush but let us, dear lovers of
langn ig •, remember to be discreetly
gentle HI, I I i n with averted glance
while tiie thought Is still in negligee.
A VENERABLE FICTION.
The ( ereiuon 112 of ('arryliiy the I'urte
In llie Itmifto ot l.ordM.
When the lord chancellor enters the
bouse of lords to preside over its de
liberation- lie i accompanied by his
"purse bearer." This functionary, how
ever, dues not carry the purse of the
lord rhancellor, which would be a
weighty responsibility, as his lordship
draws it salary of iIh.IMMI a year. The
purse tiie "purse bearer" solemnly car
vies as, arrayed in court dress, he pre
cedes tli*- I >hl rliauci llor to and from
ihe holism of lords is it gorgeous satchel
embroidered with the royal arms and
other heraldir devices in white and
gold and lined with the richest silk.
It 1- suppost d t i contain the great seal.
As it ma tin* of fact, that emblem of a
mighty sovereignty is never in the
satchel. If it were, the responsibility
of the "purse bearer" would be great—
much greater indeed than if he had to
bear a purse that carried a salary of
£lo,<»a year.
The ceremony of carrying the purse
lu the house of lords is but one of the
many venerable lictious which play a
picturesque part In the parliamentary
procedure. The purse is placed on the :
woolsack. It indicates that the lord ;
chancellor is in possession of the great (
seal and therefore entitled to perform
his duties as speaker of the house of
lords.—London Globe.
THREE WAYS TO SUBDUE. '
A Story of iluddlia and tlie Trainer
of Klepliaiitw.
From Hindoo tales that have come i
through the Chinese, who give us most i
of our Indian records—the rtshls were
dreamers and not recorders—we have !
this story of Buddha:
The lord demanded one day of an
elephant trainer what were the means j
he employed to subdue his beasts.
"Three." said tlie mahout. "One ap
| plies to the mouth a hook of iron,
| which he attaches to breast clasp, and
i the elephant rannot lift his neclC. Then
j one gives less and less food till thin
■ and weak and finally heats."
J "And what does one accomplish by
; these means?" asked he-of-the-yellow
| light.
"The crochet de for serves to over
come the resistance of the head; the
I deprivation of food and drink, the vio
lence of the body; the stick subdues the
sjiirit. After lliis, all Is easy."
The niuibused-bronze-one said:
"I aiso have three ways to subdue. I
First, by perfect sincerity I control
what goes forth from the mouth; by ,
affection and charity I harmonize the
irregularities ( >f the body; by Inward
vibration of thought I calm the spirit.
Did you ever think of trying these ou
the elephant?" Everybody's Magazine.
FAMILY HISTORY.
I nlvernnl Intercut In l\ no win K W hat
Our I orefutherN Hid.
"Why doi. i jon trace your family
history?' The common reply to this
question is summed up in the words,
"If I knew h »w togo about it I should
enjoy doing so." For few are the indi
viduals who do not at times feel a
longing to open the book of the past
and read the records of their ancestors.
Edward Everett felt that longing when
he wrote There is no man of any
culture who does not lake some inter
est In what >vas done by his forefa
thers." The desire to trace the descent
of ones family and to transmit the
record to one's successors Is as old as
life a strand in the binding cord of
filial love.
So prevalent has the desire been
among all nations to which either his
tory or tradition extends that it has
been regarded by many writers as an
instinct in human nature. Observing
its universality, the historian Hume
began hi- history of England with
these lin- - •The cur isitv entertained
by all uutfons of inquiry into the ex
ploits and adventures of their ances
tors commonly excites a regret that j
the history of the ages should be in- j
volved in obscurity, uncertainty and
tradition." New England Magazine
Ihe Cronuiuy of Burning Smalt Coal.
It i common delusion that a small
fuel must necessarily be of low calorific i
value, and accordingly of doubtful eco
nomic value even if it can be burned.
As it matter of fact, many small fuels
are of exrellent calorific value, and
when burned with suitable appliances
will show a phenomenal saving. Agaiu
and again have I seen an evaporation ,
| of ten pounds of water per pound of
fuel obtained with slack from Welsh
.sir;,in ;t| rusting from 5 to •! shillings
1 r am less than t'.e large coal. Slack
I from a good Welsh steam coal is really •
| remarkable value for money as com- ;
pared with the large coal from which j
! It Is separated. Generally speaking, '
twenty tons of such slack will evapo- j
| rate fully as much water as nineteen j
I tons of the large coal, and assuming
! their respective costs per ton to be 15
j shillings and lit» shillings the saving to
1 the steam user will be the difference
I in cost between twenty tons at 13
| shillings per ton and nineteen tons at
! i! 0 shillings per ton. say £4.— W. F.
j Goodrich In Engineering Magazine.
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NO. 116 E. FRONT BT.
ODORS !N THERAPEUTICS.
|*er fit ine*» Mini 'I Kielr I h«* In tli#» l'rar
liee i»f Medicine.
Odor-, whether agreeable or dis
agree.-;! le. ure not muses .«f disease in
the sense gem-rally taken. They may
disorder certain healthy functions by !
Impal ing n< rvotis energy, by diminish
ing wholesome respiration ami thus
creating a predisposit ion to attack by
' disease
Severe fa"!»I tie-- is sometimes observ
ed i i on-; i iic persons upon their en
trance I:. ,t room in which tuberoses
in kept ! 1 cadarhe is often produced
l.y iie 0.l - en, >uuting front the hon
eysii, ,|. . pi eof Sharon or carna
tion i . ■ 11or of betouy in flower is
lid to I ;ve caused intoxication in
tho • ho gather it The making of
j lin > r i ijeci el ions and the tri titrating of •
i'i . j ; . walnuts or colocynlh are
> ! ' •' :panics! by attacks of syn
l ■ i ban- been made to utilize
o in thrrapriit irs. The odors of
v. t a.- I heliotrope tire credited with
-ooihing influence over
person ; . erteil to attacks of nerv
ihe use of toilet water in
i tlie form >o ,i -pray will often restore
j those ex is. te.| with 'he cares of busl
i ness, s i-i.il t.r domestic dtiiies. In the
• t 1! ■ use of perfume is considered
I t!s • im!i we look upon it mere
ly :■■■• a luxury. It is asserted that those I
1 who are employed in laboratories!
, wlt'-re perl' .uies are made or among
growing (lowers are healthy to an ex
i tent cxceeii ng those not so employed.—
' Medical It
MUSIC'S MIGHTY REALM, j
111 If There In lull fl SIIIKIC HAD 1 UI -
M-IMI S|>e«*eli.
"In the mighty realm of music there
:is but one single speech." Music forms
the uuivcrs.il language which, when all
other languages were confounded, the '
confusion of Habel left uncoil founded, j
The white man and the black mau, the I
red man and t,u* yellow man. can slug '
together, hov ever difficult they may !
find it to be to talk to each other. And '
both sexes and :• 11 :nr«s may thus ex j
press their emoi ms simultaneously. !
for in virtue oft: e power of the ear to |
distinguish side by side those differing
but concordant notes which make up ;
harmony there is not only room, but
demand, for nil tiie qualities of voice
which childhood, adolescence, maturity
and old age supply. Tims a love of
| music is much more frequent than a
love of painting or sculpture, and you
will reach the hearts and touch the
feelings of the majority of mankind
more <)iiickh by singing them a song !
than by showing them a picture. In j
truth, tiie sensitiveness of the ear to
melody and to harmony is so great that
we not only seek to gratify it when
bent upon recreation, but even in the |
midst of the hardest labor we gratify j
it if we can London Catholic Time«
The I fllns-. i.f tlordpHiix.
The cobwebs will seem to an impres
sionable visitor the noblest things in ;
the I!ordealix cellars Some of them I
look lil.e thick pile curtains, somber ill
hue. of i 'iirsc but famously suggestive
of \ ritilh And with even only a'
ii era' isi.i ua t ion one may goto!
.- • d I > tie- barrels fancying the
pendent e- overhead are dusky
s'.alattl: - -lead of the airy next to
no ii ; ng as i!;e\ real!\ are. If you hold
your candle high enough you may
•Is iia f' w yards of the fabric. Hut j
ili ,' were trui.v a allocking deed of I
vandalism, for, though no layman can.
uni left and why this dismal tapestry
is reverenced as it is. his Ignorance will I
not Ise held sufficient excuse for .als ;
eriuie.—< 'hambers' Journal.
v. h> \o<r
Mrs. Frederi' '. SchofT. president of
the National Mothers' t'ongress. 1s en
thusiastic about a delightful flve-year
old girl she met in Salt Lake City.
"Jane was out driving with her fa
ther." said Mrs. Schotl'. "and noticed |
! that her father simply slashed the whip I
through the air to make the horse 1
! quicken his pace
"'Papa.' s-iid Ih<» little one. "why
don't you v.V;> its <•: '•]• u tl, t way?"' I
—Woman's n .tne Companion.
I
i
The Home Paper
of Danville.
Of course you read
—■r"
J I. ■ MI
1! |'
il i
J! THE nEOPLES |
KQPULAR
I APER.
i
| I j
Everybody Reads It.
I | I
Ptibli.shcil f;verv Morning Except
"
Sunday at
j
No. ii E. Ma ho ng St.
i
Subscription 6 cents IVr Week. j
A HEARTY LAUGH
ft 1* 11 'I I* Im llctli'i «»f a Son*
H 111 11% Soul,
Tlie coiil. chilling atmosphere which
sometimes pervades a reception or oth
er s> nl gathering 1- often entirely
1 ili<sip.ii«i liy the hearty. ringing luugb
ic of some simple, genuine soul who
is bubbling over with fun. The stilT- j
in ■» and constraint which a minute
In-fore em liarrasseil the wliole cotn
paliv are relieved as if by magic.
There is something In genuine, spon
taneous humor which removes nil re- j
straint, -■ -alters cm Warrassinent, re- .
lie\es r ii-mi ami welds sou In together |
as no iiiMMueiloii or conversation can. j
11 pills llie shy ai ease, dissipates prej
| lulice. givt < contideilcc to itie timid and
natures tin- shrinking soul. The
-!ii-i<ry siu i- or iln* spontaneous laugb
awakens sympathy mi'l arouses feel
ings nf friemliiness. It seems to melt
' all barriers.
oil. whi.t riches live in a sunny soul! !
Whin a blesseil heritage is a sunny
face, to In- :iliie to fling out sunshine
wherever om goes, to lie able to seat*
; ti-r Hie shadows and to lighten sorrow
laden lu-arts. ;<i have power to send
cheer iuio despairing souls through a
sunny and a radiant heart! And if,
haply, ihis heritage is eoinbined with
a superb manner and exquisite per-
I soiialily, no money wealth can com
pare with its value.
Ibis blessing is not very difiicult of
acquisition, lor a sunny face is but a
reflection of a warm, generous heart.
The sunshine does not appear flrst
Upon the face, but in the soul. Th»
glad smile thai makes tin- face radiant
is but a glimpse of the soul's sunshine,
—O. S. Harden in .Success Magazine.
FIRE AND AIR.
; Tli» AnrlfNla lii-rojnlrnt tlie liitl-
Ilel«llon» ll<*( rr.-fu Thru.
Tbi l intimate relation between fire
j snd sir was early recognized, seeing
j that experience soon taught that air
| was necessary for fiie The i»]iperi
j meut of burning a candle In a closed
i vessel, now so familiar to every school
boy. is a very old one. aud the influ-
I ence of a blast of air oti a furnace had
] oeen probabli noticed from a very re
ue-le period. My -toe It was affirmed
iO be the food of lire, while by others
the same belief . , embodied In the
1 phrase Air nourishes flr>."
Aii.ii i.ii w us lonic ago übserveil that
niter, a substam-e well known to the
lh"flllenI pl»:losojilicrs of the past, could
produce inter; •- gnltlon. It was hence
Inferred thai, since niter possessed this
property, it necessarily followed that
the two substances resembled each oth
erin co:-ipo iiion. According to Hob
ert Itoyle, tin* air contained "volatile
niter," while Lord Kacon held that air
contained a "volatile, crude and windy
spirit." and thunder and lightning
Were suppose 1 to be due to the pres
ence nf minute particles of this niter
j diffused through air.
"ilie* important bearing of such obser
j vations is due to the fact that oxygen
gas. \ I-.ich i- one of the chief constitu
ents of jt.r and tite one to whirti it
owes its power of supporting combus
tion. also forte-. the largest elementary
constituent of niter and Is likewise the
source of the power possessed by that
] body of supporting combustion.
| The action of beat on metals in raus
j lug them to lose their metallic luster
had also not escaped notice, and Car
! dan. a philosopher who lived during
I the sixteenth century, in noticing the
j increase in weight that lead undergoes
| when heated in air. attributed It to the
gas In the air, which feeds flsme and
' which rekindle* « body presenting an
\ ignited point
A « nnt I nil* *«•»«.
A Scotsman went to an Knglish race
meeting and boldly staked a sovereign.
; Strangely enough, the horse he bucked
: proved a winner, and he went to the
! "bookie" to claim his winnings The
j sporting man hegrudglngly banded htm
5 sovereigns lie looked at each one
• very carefully before placing it In his
pocketbook. "Well,'" said the "bookie,"
with a snarl, "are you afraid they're
bad?"
j "Oh, no," said the Scotsman, "but I
was just iooktu' to tnak' sure the bad
1 111 I
;miL
!e want to do all
kinds af PrintiM
4——4.
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for your business, a
satisfaction to you
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