0' 1 112 Nan's 112 Wooing By TAYLOR WHITE I Copyright, ISMI, by P. C. Eastmeul 6 ■ =c? "I simply must make that train," said Nan. "I must get home." Bert looked at his mother. She made a helpless gesture. "I don't see how it can be done, my dear Nan," she said weakly. "Both of the horses have gone lame, the liv ery has no horse In, and the express man cannot come for your trunk until this afternoon." "Can't we beg, borrow or buy a rig?" she demanded briskly. "Surely every horse and cart In Fleasantvllle is not engaged." "I guess you'll have to stay over un til tomorrow." said Bert blandly. "I can get a hsrse by then." "I'm going to get one right away," she said decidedly. "I promised Nell Taylor when we were at school that I would be her bridesmaid and I'm go ing to." Mrs. Montrose stared. "My dear Nan," she said coldly, "1 hope you will do nothing to excite comment." Nan stared. She had told them a week ago that she must leave on Thursday, and they had made no move toward looking after her departure. No v thit she had l>een forced to taka the mutter Into her own hands this placid remark Irritated her. "I ntt going to get that trunk to the train If I have to hire a circus parade," she Rai l spiritedly as she darted out of the <!oo". Mr?. Montrose held up her hands In placid horror. "My dear Bert," she »a!"it Is almost fortunate that the girl will not have you." "Nothing of the sort," was the brutal response, "t need the money, and you know I do. If you hadn't made that row about her riding Dwlght's horse It would have been all right. I was hop ing if I forgot about the baggage she might stay on.and I could patch It up." "Well, let us hope that the girl does not entirely disgrace us," was the wall ing rejoinder as Mrs. Montrose went Into the parlor, where she could com mand a view of the street. Nan T'dell had been a thorn In her fleph ever since she had come from the "I FANCY YOU SHOCKED MUS MONTROSE, SHE IS SO EMINENTLY PBOJPEK." west for a visit. Her father and the late John Montrose had been mining partners In the early days. Each had made his strik<\ and when Nan and Bert were born It was agreed that they were to marry when they should be old enough. Nan had come visiting J with the Implied understanding that] they were to wed, but Bert had soon disgusted her, while there had been numerous conflicts between herself and Mrs. Montrose, who was perpetually shocked at her breezy western manner. She administered the last shock when she presently drove up to the house on the seat of an express wagon, talking spiritedly to the driver. She sprang to the ground before he could descend nnd : assist her n.id : n up the steps. "All right!" she cried as she threw ' open the door. "Please let John help the man with the trunks." "But how are you going to get into town?" objected Mrs. Montrose. "I'll ride with the man," laughed Nan. "He said I might. It won't be \ the flrst time. Goodby, Mrs. Montrose j I'm sorry I was such a trouble to you. J I'll wire when I get home and write I and tell you all about the wedding ! Goodby, Bert." She turned and flew down the steps ; after the man and with a spring was back on the seat beside him. "If you're in a hurry." she said con- j tentedly as he touched the team with the whip, "the only way Is to do a thing yourself." "Yon seem quite capable of looking after things yourself," he laughed. "I fancy you shocked Mrs. Montrose. She Is so eminently proper!" "I'm sorry." she said penitently, "but I Just had to get home, and they knew it. I'm glad I found you." "8o am I," he laughed. "You ought to lie out west," she said, with a comprehensive gaze that was not Impertinent because It was so frank. "You're more the type of west ern man. They don't haven lot of men of your type here." The driver flushed. "We have them." he said quietly, "but I guess they don't travel in the Pleasantville set." He laughed as he thought of the snobbish social circle of the little suburb where even the trolley was barred. Nan read I his thoughts ntid laughed In sympathy, j Her visit had not been pleasant. She chatted on as they sped along. The uian was singularly intelligent for a workman, and she enjoyed his chat as much as she did the presence of a real man after six weeks with the pale youths who constituted the male ele ment of Fleasantvllle society. She was almost sorry when they reached the town and drove up to the station. The driver ushered her into the wait- j fng room, purcnasea ner ttcket ana sleeper, checked her trunks and finally came toward her. "Here Is what I had to pay out," he said, offering a neat memorandum. "This Is the change." She glanced at the coins and smiled. "That's the last of mv greenbacks," she laughed. "Now I'll get gold again. I like It lots better." "We don't take to it on here," be smiled. "But I've got to give you one." she •aid. "I have no more bills," Bhe held out a five dollar gold piece. «nd after a pause his hand closed over "Tbaak you." ht» said "But yrrn 1 would have been welcome to my serv ices. I hope you have a pleasant trip." "That's a real goodby." she said Im pulsively, remembering the frigid fare well at the house. "Will you shake hands?" His hand closed over hers with a pressure that almost crushed It: then, with a bow. he turne 1 and left the room, while she settled herself for the hour wait. Naii was in time to be a bridesmaid, and when she had written a long ac count to Mrs. Montrose she sought to put thoughts of Pleas.mtvllle out of her mind. It was easy enough to forget Mrs. Montrose and the colorless Bert, but somehow the expressman would crop up In her memory. She assured herself over and over ngain that she did not care for any t man who was content to drive an ex press wag in, and yet all the time she kuew that she did care, and when a few weeks later she entered the Crorn wells' ballroom and at the far end saw a face she thought familiar her heart gave a bound. It could not be the expressman, she assured herself. The Cromwells were most exclusive, and yet'*— lie came toward her with his hostess on his arm. "Mr. Newhall has been asking about you, my dear," smiled the old lady. "It seems that you met back east." i"I do not flatter myself that Miss Udell recalls me," he smiled. "But I had the good fortune to be of some I slight service at her departure." I "Well, you can recall it to her," said j Mrs. Cromwell placidly. "I must go and look after that Templeton girl. ; Look after Paul, my dear." j "I suppose you are surprised to see ime here," she smiled. "May I ex- I plain ? The conservatory Is very handy." Nan bowed, and he led the way. "You see," he began when they had found a palm screened nook, "uiy fa ther has some old fashioned ideas about work. He says that a man who j commands must first be able to obey, and he put me on with the men on pre i cisely the same footing. He even dock | ed me h:ilf a day's pay forgoing to town without permission and chuckled when I told him I was still $2 to the good." "Then you are not a regular express man ?" "That was the mill wagon. It had express painted on it when we bought it, and we did not take the trouble to paint it out." "What did you think of me?" she gaßped. "I thought that a girl with your ca j pacity was worth knowing," he said promptly. "So I made a note of your name and address, which were on your trunks, remembered that Mrs. Crom well was a school chum of my moth er's and came out to see her." "I suppose she feels highly compli mented," suggested Nan. i "Oh, I told her why I came." he said calmly. "She quite Indorses my opin ion and my quest." "When do you return?" asked Nan, to change the topic. "As soon as you have promised to marry me." he said promptly. "It's 1 i a brief wooing. Nan, but I can't wait Will you give me encouragement, dear?" "Yes." said Nan, "I—l—do like you." He slipped a ring on her finger. "I am going to have that five dollar piece made into the wedding ring," he said. "That was why I took It that day." "You loved ine then?" she asked, sur prised. "Yes." he declared. "That's funny." said Nan musingly. "I guess I did too." FLY FISHING. Th» Expert Angler Explains Why It Is a humane Sport. "Well," said Chichester, "if it comes : to suffering I doubt whether the fish j are conscious of any such thing as we means by it. But even If they are they j suffer twice as much and a thousand times as long shut up in this hot, nasty i pool as they would in being caught in ] j proper style." "But think of the hook!" "Hurts about as much as a pin prick." "But think of the fearful struggle and the long, gasping agony on the ; shore!" "There's no fear in the struggle. It's Just u trial of strength and skill, liko a game of football. A fish isn't afraid 112 of death; he doesn't know anything; , about it. And there is no gasping on the shore, but a quick rap on the head with a stick, and it's all over." "But why should he be killed at all?" "Well," said he, smiling, "there are reasons of taste. You eat salmon, don't you?" "Ye-e-es." she answered a little j doubtfully, then with more assurance, i "but remember what Wilbur Short | says in that louely chapter on 'Com i munion With the Catfish'—l want them , brought to the table in the simplest I and most painless way." I"And that is angling with the fly," said he, still more decidedly. "The fly Is not swallowed like a bait. It sticks in the skin of the lip, where there Is least feeling. There Is no j torture in the play of a salmon. It's ' just a fair fight with an unknown op ponent. Compare it with the other ways of bringing a fish to the table. < If he's caught in a net, he hangs there for hours, slowly strangled. If he's, speared, half the time the spear slips,) < j and he struggles off badly wounded,! I and if the spear goes through him he | < Is flung out on the bank to bleed to ! death. Even If he escapes he is sure I to come to a pitiful end some day— 1 perish by starvation when he gets too ; old to catch his food or be. torn to 1 pieces by a seal, an otter or a fish- < hawk. Fly fishing really offers him"— j "Never mind that," said Ethel, j "What »loes It offer you?" \ gentleman's spurt, I suppose," he i answered rather slowly.—Henry van ' Dyke in S< ribner's. I nr Thninh The radical difference between the ! i hand of man and of the monkey lies in the thnmh. In the human hand the thumb has the •'opposing power," | •which means that tin* thumb can be made to touch the tip of each or any , of the other timer* on the same hand. ! The monkey's thumb is nonopposable 1 j —Pittsburg I Mspatch j I Hi,* Money. "Say." tillered old Wedderly, "why ; don't you get married?" j I "Because" replied young Singleton, I "I'm too poor." 112 "Huh!" rejoined the old man. "When ! I was your age 1 was so poor I had to » j marry "—Chicago News. I Th«) Mm I Mke It. l "Does this powder really kill th« cockroaches?" asked the housekeeper ! ! «t the grocery. "Why. certainly not!" replied the gro- ' cer 'lf i: we wouldn't sell n third 1 of the quail'it;." | The Girl From! j the West j I By OTHO D. SENGA j Paul Alger looked firmly into Mrs. i Elliott's face. "You don't realize what you're ask ing, Aunt Ruth." irritatedly. "I'm not asking," calmly. "I'm sim ply telling you what I expect of you. The girl will be here tomorrow. My will is made with these plans in view. I If you don't fall in with them, you're disinherited absolutely; that's all." Alger rose. "Aunt IJuth, you've been more than a mother to uie, and I'd like to do ev erything I can to please you, but this is expecting too much. I must reserve the right to select my own wife." Mrs. Elliott was stubbornly silent, and after moment the young fellow said earnestly. "Aunt Huth, give the money to the girl if you want to, but don't let her come between you and me!" "Don't talk to me. Paul." impatiently. "I shall give it to you two—together or not at till!" "Who is this girl," Alger demanded with heat, "that she should lie thrust upon me in this style?" "She is the daughter of my husband's brother. When this girl and my Fred erick were little children the brothers promised each other that the children should marry when they were old euougli. Frederick died, and after your mother's death I adopted you. You have taken Frederick's place in every thing else. You must in this. Promise, Paul!" "It is utterly impossible!" firmly. "Paul," temptingly, "she is very pretty." • Alger smiled and shook his head. "And. Paul." | laying her trump card, "she is musical." Music was Alger's passion. "Yes ?" Ind i fferently. "Yes," emphatically. "She plays the violin." "What insufferable presumption!" im patiently. "A girl from the wild west, brought up on a cattle ranch, you said. Doubtless she can ride a broncho or lasso a steer, but she shouldn't meddle with the violin. She probably never heard of Bach fir Mendelssohn and wouldn't know a sonata from a sand wich. Aunt. I can fancy her bringing her violin in her ; -ins and playing for the delectation of the other passengers in the Pullman. Ugh!" "You refuse, then?" "Most decidedly." "Very well." icily. "I accept your de cision as final." The next day Alger from his desk in the library s iw the girl as she entered the adjoin :i- r room, where Mrs. Elliott waited to greet her. She was tall and graceful, wii'i a high bred air of ease that surprsi 1 him. Her voice was clear an well modulated "T'pon my vord." lie muttered, "1 ex pected her ti anner of speech to be a cross between a cowboy's yell and an Indian vrarwhoop." lie saw the servant come in with a violin case. "Will madam have this in the music room or"— "Oh, no; here" And Vera held out her hand =. "You brought tins yourself, Vera?" Mrs. Elliott's tone held the slightest suggestion of annoyance. "In my arms literally." laughed Vera. Alger in Lis dim corner smiled. Vera geutly placed the case on the floor and lifted out the instrument as tenderly as a mother lifts her babe from Its cradle. "Oh. Aunt Ruth," fervently, "when you see it you will understand—my beautiful violin!" She clasped It to her bosom with a gesture of tenderness. The beauty of the girl, the unaffected grace of her pose and her evident artistic apprecia tion stirred Alger t > instant admira tion. He met the girl at dinner. She gave him one long, earnest look that he felt at once an inquiry and a challenge, and then she directed her conversation to Mrs. Elliott. Alger was piqued. He was accus tomed to more attention from young women. She related some of the inci dents of her '*ip "We had a concert each evening. There were three girls in our Pullman coming to Boston to study music. They j sang well." "And you played, I suppose, Miss Elliott?" Alger could not forbear the question. She turned her rlnnce noon him ! briefly. "Oh, I scraped my little best," j coolly. Alger felt the rebuff, but ho shot a triumphant glance at his aunt. As the evening progressed Alger be- i gan to wish that lie could win some i pleasant look or word from the girl I and to deeply resent his inability to do j so. "Will you play for Miss Elliott?" j he asked. >. <>re humbly than was his habit. She ma> about to decline, but Mrs. Elliott added qui -l ly: "For me. Vera, dear. I am so anxious to hear you." The Instrument with which Vera re ! turne 1 to the room caught Alger's dis j criminating eye at once. "Where d'd you get (his. Miss Elli- • ott?" almo-t abruptly as he recognized its rarity :;nd v.ilr.e. "It is a gift from my master. He j had owned it for many years. He has also a Ouarnerius :md an Amati. But this was his 'swee!heart.' lie always ; called It s<>." "A mastfr of the violin d <«<s p'>* m'o I mt the instrument he loves best—a /adivarius almost beyond price—to a g»upil who merely 'scrapes,' " thought Alger. "Did he have many pupils, Miss El liott?" experimentally. "No one but myself. He is old and can no longer play. Age has stiffened his fingers. But lie played once—oh, | how lie could play! He taught me from a little child, and when I could play— to please him—he gave me this." "Your teacher was a German? - ' ten- : tativel.v. "A Uelgiau," quietly. "Now you shall j hear the voice of the Stradivarius." j She tuned the strings and played, j There was certainty of chord fingering. ; a strength, an almost manliness, com bined with emotional warmth about her interpretation <>t' the difficult Bach sonata that amazed Al < r "Bach's I) .Minor S pi i; >t for 1 amateurs," he said g: • his aunt j "Miss Elliott's gift b.>y id «|U« '"ti ! She would rank with the great vi Ists of the present day." "I think John poss<---<•.! some musical ability." replied Mrs Elliott serenely. The girl raised her bow with an in describable gesture oi reverence. "My mother." proudly, "v a De Beri >t. My master is my father. I did not wish 11 see in I > brad He Is Francl3 Augusre ae Henot.- '•And this from the cattle ranch!" thought Alger. As the days went by he found him self desperately In love with the girl and unable to win from her anything more than the most chilling courtesy. He had not even the satisfaction of confiding in Mrs. Elliott. Once when lie tried to speak of Vera, meaning to confess his love for the girl, his aunt interrupted him coldly: "Say no more, Paul. 1 accepted your decision as final, yon will remember, and a later will leaves all I possess to the Home For Aged Men." She swept angrily from the room. Alger stood for a moment as If stun ned; then he laughed aloud. "That's good news! Now there's no money In the way, and I'll move heaven and earth to win the loveliest girl that ever"— "'Came out of the west,'" quoted a merry voice, and the portiers parted and Vera stepped from the window seat into the room. Alger sprang forward hastily. "Vera," eagerly, "you've known all the while that I love you"— "A girl from the west, brought up on a cattle ranch?" she questioned, hold ing him back with her hand on his breast. "I don't care where you're from, or anything else, if you'll only say you love me. Vera," pleadingly. "A g rl who doesn't know a sonata from a sandwich?" mischievously. "Vera, forgive me for that and say you love me." "Paul," seriously, "I've loved you ever since 1 was a little girl. See!" She drew a locket from her bosom and pressed back the cover. Alger gazed in bewilderment. It was his own face that looked up Jit bim. "Aunt Ruth sent that to my father. I claimed it as mine and have worn it always." "Vera," with bis arms about her, "why have you been so crusl to me when I've tried so hard"— "I feared you might propose to mo to please Aunt Ruth and—and because of the money." "Here, here! What's all this about?" Aunt Ruth's voice sounded harshly at the door. They turned toward her together. "Vera has promised to marry me, Aunt Ruth." "And my latest will"— She fairly hurled the words rt them. "We don't mind!" they cried togeth er rapturously. —"was never signed," added Aunt Ruth In a changed voice, and they heard her laughing as she softly closed the door and left them to their hap piness. TESSIE THE WAITRESS. Tlie Reason Tlint Faithful Vo. 12 Took a Day Otf. Like the fated duchess in Brown ing's poem, Tessie smiled upon all men. No matter how intricate the order or how many times you sent things back, the never grumbled. There was al ways a struggle to get a seat at her table. "The boys" who regularly gath ered in the downtown restaurant at half past 12 would wait fifteen min utes for the privilege of being served by Tessie. They joked her a good deal and always were rewarded by a flash ing smile and a twinkle of the eye, a bit of repartee or perhaps a little ex tra attention to their order. But nev er did oue of them pre wane upon her friendliness and bon camaraderie to overstep the very certain iine which she had drawn between herself and those whom she served. She was young, piquant and pretty, but she "mothered" them all, and. no matter h >w tenderly she might ask if the egu.-» were just rl'-'ht or the coffee hit, they knew that it was useless to misinter pret that "mothering." Tessie stayed in the downtown lunch room just three years. From the day she came the manager's discerning eye discovered a prize in her. and from the ladies' table she was promoted to one where masculinity and tips were more frequent. If a waitress were absent, Tessie was always given the "extra" table to serve, and she never complain ed. Tessie was never tardy, never too ill to work, never distrait or care less. Tirelessly she went up and down with her arms full of dishes and food."The boys" used to speculate sometimes upon Tessie's matrimonial possibilities and hazard guesses as to what they would do when some fellow carried her off t > wait on himself ex clusively. But in time she became stich a fixture that they ceased wonder ing why such a pretty girl was forced to work In a quick lunch room and gave up the thought that she would ever marry at all. That is why they were very much surprised one day when they arrived to find no Tessie. Another waitress tried to take her place, but nobody got what he wanted, and nothing went right. They had been so used to de pending upon Tessie's suggestions and lier memory that the new waitress had a hard time of It. Finally in a fit of the grouch one of the boys called the manager over. "Say," be demanded, "where's Tes sie?" The manager lifted his eyebrows po litely. "Tessie?" he began. "Oh, you mean No. 12. She will be back tomorrow." The next morning Tessie appeared as usual. The crowd of young clerks greeted her with a whoop. "Where have you been?" they de manded. Tessie looked at them for a moment. Her fingers gripped the edge of tlie table, and two big tears rose to her eyes. "I—l stayed home yesterday," she said chokingly, "to—to goto my hus band's funeral." The clerks looked at one another blankly. "Your husband!" exclaimed some body. "Yes," said Tessie simply. "He's dead. He bad been ill three years consumption." And then she hurried away to the kitchen to give her orders and wipe her tear stained face. —New York Press. LADYLIKE GEOMETRY. Figures of the same shape don't al ways have the same style. Figures of the same size never con sider themselves equivalent. A straight line is the shortest dis tance between two millinery openings. A j 1;i11 1.. ire is one all points of v.bit 1. hii\c be«»n neglected by the dressnnker. A mis I line is a line composing the recej ii 'iiniltee of a club's presi d'"dial candidate. Is i j ie i-. a series of succes si> I'iii i •n-ribed by a worn ill" 1 !!' ; troin a .street car. A mi .tight line determined by two bargain tables is considered as prolong ed both ways until the store closes. Women equal to the same thing are not always equal to each other.—Nellie Parker J >in - in Chicago Itcoard-Hor akl PLAYUQ CARDS. Peculiarities of Those Used by tha Different Nations. "O • of the most interesting collec tions of foreign loot that I've seen ret e illy," said a man ordinarily too bu-. ! > make the trip over the seas {iii - if, "is an assortment of playing cards from various parts of the world. "l'i every country the owner of tlie collection visited—and he went to a good many picked tip cards of local manufacture and so representative ot the nation "Th' 1 iii; ;i cards are perhaps the most 11 ':e faces of tlie kings an i (ju. i 'i ■ different in each suit, iiit -.iling tl" i < il elements that go tot :i;po> e ihe empire. "(•ii ihe Creel, curls classical heroes and heroine-, up- i 'presented. Nestor, for e::at. is t' e king of hearts and o,c e. i!. kua> • Agamemnon Is the kit..' of - Hercules the jack of spades a i in-•« and Dauae the king and .< t.f diamonds. The Greek pack i i a cheap one and scarce ly ,:•»< ; iion >r to the celebrities por trayed. "Cadiz is a center for card manufac turing. The idea of the Spanish card maker seems to be to get as much color on the cards as possible. The royal robes are of unusual magnificence. The clubs are big bludgeons in green anti i I. a.. 1 til- kaave of clubs, gayly caputis cautl <a a prancing horse, re minds you in itly of .lack the Giant Killer. The >oriues are ugly little dag ger. and for hearts and diamonds i!it • are i i us nnil dice cups. The car ia 'ine of the Spanish packs are very thin a.id have a capital spring. "The .Madeira cards come from Lis* bon. The figures are more convention al in design than on the Spanish. Thd ace cards are adorned with typlca* Portuguese scenes. "A peculiarity of the pack bought in Constantinople is that the ace cards- In addition to the sing'e spade, dia mond, dub or heart in the center of each, have diminutive aces at the up per left hand and lower right hand corners. "The Italian face cards portray de cidedly gloomy personages. Each on« of the face cards, by the way, carrieU in small print the name and address of the maker. There are tiny packs, an inch and a quarter by an inch and three-quarters in size, which can be bought on the streets of Naples for a soldo. These resemble the Spanish cards to some extent, although the royalties are more dignified. "Cairo is a great card emporium, and Mousky street offers rich returns to the card hunter. Fortune telling cards must be in demand there, to judge from the samples I saw in the collec tion. The Cairo playing cards come mostly from Germany. They are bril liant in their coloring. The aces carry scenes from lands both we«t and east. "The gem of all the packs comes from Switzerland. The cards are small, tine and three-quarters by two and a half inches in size, and the back design is the edelweiss. The kings, queens and jacks are delightful studies in Swiss costume, and the purchaser certainly gets his money's worth, for each face card has two half figures quite unlike. On the aces are Swiss scenes and objects of interest, also two to a card, the subjects including the castle of Clilllon, tlie Matterhorn, the bridge at Lucerne and the Lion of Lu cerne."—lndianapolis Star. Silvering Mirrors. Mirrors are usual]} silvered by coat ing the glass with amalgam. For this purpose a large, perfectly flat stone Is provided, and upon it Is evenly spread a sheet of tin foil without crack or flaw. This is covered to the depth of one eighth of an Inch with clean mer cury. The plate of glass, perfectly cleaned from all grease and Impurity, Is floated onto the mercury by sliding, so as to exclude all air bubbles. It is then pressed down by loading It with weights in order to press out all the mercury wl.lc'i remains fluid. This is received in a gutter around the stone. After about twenty-four hours it is gently raised upon its edge, and in a few weeks it is ready to frame. His Perseverance. Henry Arthur Jones, the noted Eng lish playwright, was giving the stu dents of Yale an address 011 the drama. "Your American vernacular Is pictur esque," he said, "and it should help your playwrights to build strong, racy plays. But neither vernacular nor any thing else is of moment if persever ance is lacking. No playwright eau succeed who is like a man I know. I said to this man one New Year's day. Do you keep a diary, Philip?' 'Yes,' he answered. 'l've kept one for the first !wo weeks in January for the last seven years.'" inuminatea. Benedick—That luminous paint is a splendid thing. Singleton—What do you use it for? Benedick—We palnl the baby's face, so we can give him a drink In the night without lighting the gas. jp.. —B— P I ■MM——— 3 ksllthecouch [and CURE the lungs I WTH Or. King's to Discovery .... SUMPTION Price UUGHS and 50c & SI.OO - I I LES, or MONEY BACK. '-% a rr: ' t * B HE W J A Holla bio TIN SHOP ror all kind of Tin Roofing Spoutlne and Central Job Work. Stoves. Heaters, Rang**, Furnaces. «to. PKICKX THE LOWEST! QUILITY TIIE BEST! JOHN IIIXSON NO. lie E. i'RONT ST. iTHE HUMAN MACHINE I I MAN'S BODY AND ITS WONDERS OF MECHANICAL DEVICES. i Many of the Inventions of tlie Day An' Infringements on the Clever 1 and Ingenious Helices Registered [ In Nature's Patent Ofliee. So fearfully and wonderfully Is the toman body made that scientists are beginning to realize that many of the Inventions of the day are infringe monts on nature's patent office. > t ! good deal of trouble anil worry in th» ; p ist could have been avoided hail in- j <en tors made a careful study of the ! j Jevitvs empljyed in making these hu man bodies of ours the useful things t: iey are. The principles of the block »»a! pulley or the tackle could have be- n discovered ages before had the fill s of nature's patent office been ran sa<f >r there are several complete j pulleys in the body, notably the one j ! which moves the eyeball inward to- j I ward the nose. Engineers made exhaustive tests and j ! e:iperiment.i before they discovered ; ■ that a hollow shaft or rod of iron or | steel Is about twice as strong as a j j soli 1 one. Vet nature had patented : this device in our bones since the birth j of Adam and Eve, and every impor- J taut bone is practically constructed on this principle. The ball and socket of the hip bones were the forerunners of the modern ball bearings, and li was the first automatic oiling machine used In the world. The value of air pres sure and a vacuum was unknown to man until the last century, but every ' oue of us carried the secret In the air ! tight hip joint which nature had as signed to lessen the muscular effort to j hold our legs upright In position, j Engineers have made wonderful \ progress in developing compound sue- ' tlon and circular pumps, but all of the ] principles contained in them are found In the heart, and this little pumping j machine is still without a rival in ihe mechanical world. The principles of the safety valve j ! for steam engines are not so new as { they seem, our human bodies carry ; with them the first automatic safety j I valves ever designed. There are up- ' ward of 2,50<M)00 of them. We call j them by ihe common name of sweat j glands. Each such little gland has a J safety valve which lets off heat from the body when it «ets beyond a safe temperature. We cannot stand a rise J ot more than s to 10 degrees of tem , pefature and live. If therefore the ! 2.0uu,u00 safety valves were closed for j twenty-four hours, death would super- j ; veue. j Adam's apple was the tirst storage i cistern ever built, and It works with automatic regularity through health and sickness. It is a most Important ! 1 organ of th<» body, although for cen- j turles it was considered a superfluous j attachment. It regulates the flow of , blood between the heart and the brain. When It ceases to operate, somebody I dies of apoplexy or a rush of blood to ■ the brain. When the heart sends up ( too much blood to the head, the Adam's j apple steps into check the flow and ] store It up for future emergencies. If ! the heart Is temporarily weakened or j put out of good running order, the ! blood stored in this cistern is given up i and sent to the brain. The nerfect ' working of this little device Is appar i ent when we consider how compara- > tlvely few die of rush of blood to the j brain or from a deficiency of supply. The eye has a score of small Inven tions worthy of recording, the ear j nearly as many more and the vital 1 organs an equal number. There Is the liver with its quarantine station. Let any poisons enter our systems with 1 food and they are immediately tield up at this quarantine station and destroy |ed by a secret process. It is only I when poisons enter In large quantities that the station cannot handle them But the stomach co-operates with the liver and intercepts some of the poi sons. There are small machines there which manufacture minute quantities of hydrochloric acid from the salts I eaten. This acid is made in exact pro- J port! >ll to the amount of food consum- | ed :"!<! cull "u t , iv the mVrobea of Danville. j Of course you read I i \\ ~ ljar ~ ~ if i | j THE nEOPLE.S 1 KOPULAR I A PER. I I Everybody Rj, ds It. j I I j i ■ Pub'isheo Every Mornir; Except Sunday * No. nE. Main ng St. j Subscription o • Kr Week. i which wo swallow, But there i« evea n third quarantine station located Ln the mouth. Millions of microbes are destroyed in the mouth dally by the Juice* elaborated there for this very purpose. If it was not for these three quarantine stations working continu ously night and day, we should be kill ed off by microbes within an hour aft er eating a meal. lu the ear there is a little device which might havel <en the original of our modern compressed air Inventions. The delicate drum of the ear must have an equal pressure from the outside and i insid * to receive and transmit the [ sound vibrations. To make this pos j sible the eustachian tube was devised, j Its function Is to regulate the air pre»- i sure inside the ear. Let It fall to work, and one becomes stone deaf. In the bones of the head there are many little channels hollowed out which are call I the semicircular ca nals. These canals are tilled with fluid lymph. For centuries no one could un derstand their meaning. Some phy | sicians considered them of no ÜBe. | This tendency to belittle organs lu the l human body whose functions could not be explained has characterized more i than one generation of savants. Now these peculiar semicircular canals are ! known to be wonderful little devices to ; assist us in keeping our balance. They act a good deal as the ballast does on ' a ship, o: more properly speaking, like the fluid In i spirit level. The brain keeps an eye on this spirit level and Is made conscious of the body's relative position. The fluid flows back and forth in t!:.' canals, and when we get it at a dangerous angle the brain Snows It.—Now York Tribune. A Pointed Grayer. Aunt Dinah had come to see her old mistress, who had just recovered from an illness. i "Yes, Miss l.ila, I sho'ly done prayed i fer yer to git well all de time, and now | yer see how it done turned out." "Then you believe that your prayers 1 are always answered, Dinah?" "Sho'ly, sho'ly!" Then, with a sly I glance: "Yer see, I neber tempts de | Lord, 'case I don't pray fer nothln' dat I don't know I'll git. Dr. John, he I done tol' me he tort yer was on de re j covery road." After a pause she went ] on: "Say, Miss Lila. yer know what I | prayed fer last night?" "No." "Why. I Just p'lntedly begged de Lord ter put it into yer heart ter give me dat brown si Ik dress yer done out growed." I.rooklyn Eagle. \ l n/» it'll Anthor, VV!i . .Vlpi!oii~e Daudet brought out 'Sai-phu" au American publishing house that Issued religious books, not | knowing it< character, offered M. Dau det a large sum for advance sheets of the work. He accepted the offer, and the advauce sheets were sent. When the publishers received them they de cided that they could not Issue the book, and they cabled to the author, j " 'Sappho' will not do.' This dispatch puzzled Daudet. He consulted with I numbers of friends, and this was the j conclusion at which they eventually arrived: "Sappho" in French is spelled with one "p"—"Sapho," after the Greek fashion. In English It is spelled with two. An unusually acute friend point ed this out to Daudet, which much re lieved the novelist, aud he cabled back | to the publishers, "Spell It with two ' p's." It is needless to state that the , publishers were more astonished at Daudet's reply than he had been at their cable dispatch. lifr Ilintl Wait Hut. Lady Dorothy Nevill ln her remi niscences tells this story of the two Misses Walpole. her cousins: "On one occasion, when both of the two were well over ninety. Miss Fanny, the younger, who had tl at day been rather ill, only joined her sister in the sitting i room just before dinner On her ar rival downstairs the I met IMb < "b::r lotte by name) remarks r ,;iy, I jam going t• ie ili too I!.• ' > hoi ; about the h-, It t,".i*t b.* v..•• .y ; 'Nothing of th? -ai!:' e:;cl.i ;- . - j Fanny. n- ; r . r.,« •« -it . I head. "Vct. • •i I- .j I lng to p::t .i <• :.' AI, j b:\.;.- ' old thing tii" B.IVI IKL ffe wait to io all Ms of Printing tfnr it IT! M. IIM FIB. LI'S Ml! | A. well tasty, Bill or ' e \( I ter Head, Post * h)m Ticket, Circnlw Program, Sta'u ment or Card (y ) an advert iserr.cn foryom business, a satisfaction to \ ou New Type, New Presses, x ,, Best Pajer, M. SBllei Wert, A Promptness \ll you can ask. A trial wili mate you our customei We respectfully asl that trial. - No. ii R. Mahoning St.. IST IST IP A
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers