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