® THE MAN WHO BELIEVES HE WILL WIN This life is a race,—so the sages declare, and I judge that the sages a1e right— And we are the jockeys to handle, with care, the horses we speed in their ight; And Fate is the starter who bids us to go, and we dare not that fiat defy; If our horses be fast or our horses be slow, for a place in the race we must try. Somewhere up above sits the Judge, and He knows the speed of each horse that we ride, And if we are doing our best as it goes, or lagging, and little beside. And this [ have noticed while watching the race and hearing its turmoil and din: The man that is likely to win the first place is the man who believes he will win. “All ready!” The starter is calling us now, and we look to the bridle and girth Ere we leap to the saddle and steadfastly vow we will win of the prizes of earth. Then “Go!” is the word, and away we all speed, each hoping a trophy to gain; And some, who at first show the power to lead, fall back, lacking will to attain; And others there be who join in the fray undismayed by the ones in their van. Content in the end if the .Judge shall but say: “He did what he could, like a man.” Ah, stern is the struggle. and many are passed, while others do scarcely begin; But the man that is winner, be sure, at the last, is the man who believes he will win. No hope of attainment have they who lack trust, for doubt holds a wavering rein; In the spirit’s low voice. as it whispers “I must!” is the promise of all we attain. Are you worn in the struggle? Press on, and press on! Thus only a prize shall be won; And the Judge, who well knew that vour spirit grew wan, shall whisper, “Well done, yes, well done.” i Oh, many a man, on faltering steed, has ridden it straight to success, feet. that grow weary, and stumble and bleed, may summits of happiness press; For my soul did proclaim. as I ran in the race, with its turmoil and clamor and din: man that is certain to win the first place is the man who believes he will And The Teessseeseesessssssenssan 3 & BIT OF > i PARISH : ¢ HISTORY ) y By David “H. Taimadge. : PS SPUN HERE was a preacher once whose health was bad—bad as the state of his spiritual being was good, which was very bad. And, although he labored strenuously to perform his duty, ‘as the Scriptures admonished and his congregation scemed to desire, he lost heart and became exceedingly like the proverbial reed. No man of thin blood and writhing nerves should expect to preach sound and healthy sermons. The thought had occurred to him that he might use a vacation if he had one; but, as the Board of Trustees dic not suggest it, and as he felt that to mention it himself would be to deprive himself of Lis job, he struggled along as best he could, awaiting the inevit- able end, and smiling strongly through his weakness. He prayed for his lost strength, at times he wept for it. And then—poor, almost exhausted fellow!—he tumbled Héad over heels in love with the dea- con’s daughter, lately returned from school, and his cup was full to over- flowing. Then he was in more trouble. No man can reveal the Scriptures suc- cessfully unless they hold first place in his mind. So, as might have been expected, and the congregation, while it enjoyed the change, looked upon him as one in whom the lamp of intellect was burning low, and shook its heads and sighed—inside. And the choir took to practicing popular songs and the President of the Board of Trustees bought a race horse, and altogether the outlook in that parish was pretty glum, The deacon who, strangely enough, was wise in a worldly way, saw how things were going. He knew his daughter. He knew she was soft on the preacher as the preacher was soft on her, although perhaps she did not show so plainly. He knew that a wed- ding was inevitable. And he knew that unless he stirred his stumps—to use his own elegant expression—the girl would be married to a pulpitless preacher of poor health without a cent between them and starvation. So while the preacher prayed the deacon stirred his stumps. He reasoned, the deacon, that the first step was to restore the preacher's health. In good health the preacher was perfectly satisfactory to the con- gregation. “He is a corker,” said the deacon, quoting from saint no one in particular, “when he is in trim.” Which was true. The deacon, being a practical man, consulted a doctor. And the doctor, also a practical man, wasted no words. “He must have rest,” declared the doctor. “The Board of Trustees won't listen to it,” returned the deacon. “They would if they were convinced that be was independent of ’em,” said the doctor, ‘there ism’t one preacher in a hundred. of his excellence, who'd preach for his salary. Tell ’em he’s got a fortune in his own right, and prove it to ’em. It'll be chancing your fu- ture salvation of course, but it'll work.” ; “I believe it will,” agreed the dea- con, after a brief period of delibera- tion. “But we'll have to make the preacher believe if, too, he's so—so deuced conscientious. Then we'll draw a ten-year contract and get it signed, and then I'll give him five hundred of his fortune and send him away for a few months.” } “It'll work,” repeated the doctor. #1f I was in your 8x I'd do it with out hesitation.” So the deacon went to a certain city | seventy -| planted in the fall was protected by several | perfectly. and was closeted for the better part of three hours with a lawyer, and for the better part of an hour with an ex- pert in genealogy, as a result of which journey the preacher received papers stating that a distant relative in a foreign land had died, and that a more or less vast estate was being parceled out to innocent and unsuspecting vie- tims. And the preacher helieved, for he was without guile, and the check for $500 was before his eyes. And he hied him away to get his shattered- ness together agin. And the deacon labored with the Board of Trustees to the end that the ten-year contract was signed and sealed. At the end of the allotted time the preacher returned and was wedded to the deacon’s daughter. He seemed another man. His eyes were bright! his shoulders had lost their stoop; he was his old time hearty self, and col- lectiens at the church increased much. “See,” said he, “what prayer will accomplish!” “See,” said the deacon’s daughter, “the wondrous power of woman's love!” “See,” said the deacon, “what com- mon sense will do! A heap of good your prayers and love would have done if it hadn't been for me and Doc. and that smashed commandment, Lord, forgive me!” And it was all so. Beautiful thoughts dropped from the preacher’s lips like unto sparks of fire. The congregation came to look upon him as one inspired. And one day there came from a large city church a call. “We have heard of you,” said they of the large city church, “and we offer you a salary and an annual vacation.” And the preacher waxed exceeding glad, and accepted the good offer. Then was the deacon saddened. “I am to lose my only daughter,” he sighed, “and by own fault. The ten- year contract holds not under these conditions. We'll be lonely here with Maggie gone.” But he put his finger piously to one side of his nose, and bore himself bravely.—New York News. The Fortune of Cecil Rhodes. It was from the De Beers Consoli- dated Mines that from first to last that Cecil Rhodes derived tbe bulk of his income and his fortune, and what this meant will be realized when it is mentioned that for last year, apart from the dividends received on his holding of shares, the sum of £316,593 was paid to the three remaining life governors, of whom Mr. Rhodes was one, the other two being Julius Wern- her and Alfred Beit. Thus this income as a life governor was over £105,000 for 1900-01, and for the current year, under the new agreement by which the Diamond Syndicate shares its profits with the De Beers Company, it would probably have been a still larger sum. The same writer calculates, on a distinctly conservative basis, that Rhodes’s holding in De Beers alone must be $10,000,600. Looking at other interests, he says: “It is idle work guessing at the fortune of a man with such widely-spread interests as those of the late Mr. Cecil Rhodes, for he had very extensive landed property in the Cape Colony and clsewhere, as well as his shareholdings. But #£3,- 000,000 is generally regarded as a modest estimate of the value of his estate.” This indeed seems to be a very mod- est estimate of the fortune of a man in these days of multimillionaires, who is said to have worked so much by the power of wealth, but it must be re- membered that Rhodes wielded the influence of the wealth of his asso- ciates. In every concern in which he was interested he seemed to be the dominant factor, whether his asso- ciates were wealthier than himself or not. Barney Barnato said Rhodes was a “great man, because he beat me at my own game.”’—New York Sun. Great Britain as a Reservoir. There ought never to be anything of the nature of a water famine in our highly favorzad isle, if only we utilized the annual rainfall as we ought to, and distributed water with due regard to the requirements of the population. According to Mr. E. Bailey Denton: “The total quantity of rain which falls on an average in a year over the whole of England and Wales amounts to about {iwenty-seven billicn nineteen thousand six hundred and thirty-two million gallons. These figures prove that each acre of surface receives as rain nearly eighty times as much water as an average member of the population requires. Famine’s our own fault.” In order fairly and effectively to utilize this great flood we ought not to allow one city after another to an- nex the various water-sheds of the country, but Parliament should deal with the subject from a national point of view.—London News. The Value of Simplicity. I suppose one comes to like plain lit erature as he comes to like plain clothes, plain manners; simple living. What grows with us is the taste for the genuine, the real. ' The less‘ a writer's style takes thought of itself, the better we like it. The less his dress, hiz equipage, his house, concern themselves about appearances, the more we are pleased with them. Let the purpecse be entirely serious, and let the seriousness be pushed till it suggests the heroic; that is what we crave as we grow older and tire of the vanities and shams of the world.—Johnp Burroughs in the Century. Alaska Agricultural Stations. Three Government agricultural sta. tions have been established in Alaska, and from all come more favorable re- ports than were looked for. Though the temperature last winter heached degrees below zero, rye snow and feet of matured 1 |THE RUSES OF THE QUAIL ' BIRD’S WONDERFUL ART OF HID. INC FRCM ITS FOES. An Indian Can Trail a Deer Where a White Man Can See Only Unmarked Ground, But He Cannot Detect a Hid- ing Quail. Any man who has shot quail steadily will have noted the bird's tricks and manners in hiding. It is the quails instinet to trust first and last to its protective coloration. Bevies which have not been much shot at will take wing more readily than others. because their members have not learned that they are least safe when in the air. In well-hunted fields quail will lie until the dog’s nose or the man's foot is within a yard of them. There is no doubt that however thick the cover and skilfully chosen the hiding place the dog often sees them hefore they flush, but the man seldom does. It is easy enough for the man to tell when the dog does see as well as scent his quarry. The animal's eyes show it plainly. Then, if he chooses, the man may stand motionless and search the ground and cover again and again, but the chances are much against his distin- guishing any bird forms. This is the more singular, as he knows exactly the size, shape and color of the quail and ought to be able to pick it out. Probably the human eye takes in too much territory at once and has an in- disposition to focus itself upon a small space. Indians are by inheritance and con- stant practice the best trailers in the world. They will see a deer’s track, or the slight impression of the wolf's paws, where a white man can see only unmarked ground, but an Indian can- not see a hiding quail any better than another human. This has been tried often. Indeed, Indian youths on the Western reserva- tions pursue quail viciously with bows and arrows and kill many, but they shoot them when perched in high trees. They do not make ground shots often. The best hand at this kind of sport the country has ever known was the late Maurice Thompson, who was much of a toxophilite and sang and wrote the praises of the bow. He used the old-fashioned weapon for two reasons: There was a good deal of the poet in him, and he was a born poacher. The latter was the stronger reason. The bow makes no noise, and the farmer in his field a quarter mile away did not know that a city dweller was murdering his birds within, call. Nothing so delighted Thompson as the sight of a weather-beaten sign. showing dimly: “No Shotin on This Premis.” A That was the ‘‘premis” he wanted to shoot on. The farmer could get even with him only by finding his bicycle hidden somewhere * near the road and breaking out ‘its spokes. In hunting quail with ‘the bow Thompson displayed great: ‘patience and knowledge cof the: habits .ef the birds. He knew where they vere to be found and moved slowly and gently. Often he would hear them running and cheeping before he saw them. He would drive them thus for 100 or 200 yards, keeping near ‘them, cau- tious not to frighten them into fiight. When one of them crossed an open space or stopped in an open space to look for the remainder of the bevy, he let drive. : Nearly all of his quail were killed while running. If they flushed he marked them down and followed them as before. Often he would kill a half dozen from one bevy before they be- came so scattered that he could not find them. He did not attempt to dis- cover them once they had taken te hiding separately, because he knew that he could net do it. Through thousands of years of effort to protect itself from its many foes the quail has developed a back, wing and neck covering which blends per- fectly with any brown objects of woods or fields—earth-clods, cornstalks, fod- der, dead or half dead grasses, fallen leaves, underbrush, twigs, old logs and so forth. The males have never lost the Dbe- traying stripe of white over the eye, and it seems singular that this traitor stripe remains. As the preservation. of females is more important than that cf males the eye-stripe of the females is brown. Le! The breast feathers of the quail are of no assistance at all, being distine- tive. In hiding the bird covers ‘every one of these feathers. The belly :and breast are pressed to the ground, the short tail is depres8ed, concealing the, light underfeathers, the head is drawn down upon the shoulders, the wings are jamized tightly against.the body. Jnly the telltale white stripe remains and in order io conceal that as much as possible the quail will squat with its back to its pursuer. It prefers a slight depression, and if it can find ore in time it squats with its back fiush with the surface of the ground. It is then absolutely indistinguishable save for the stripe. A man who wishes cock quail in form must look solely for the stripe. If he fixes iis appearance in his mind and lets his eye search solely for it he may find his bird. though the chances are largely against him. But for the ability of the quaii to conceal its breast and belly feath- ers they would have turned brown long ago. ings and chances of escape as well as the man does. Sometimes it is impos- sible to dislodge it from a favorite bit of cover.” * This is generally a thicket so dense that accurate shooting is not to be tlushk a dozen times just in front of the ¥ . RRR Gee RSS TERR to discover a | The quail understands its surround- | FEET rm. EE aren dog, going not more than a dozen yards to right or left and dropping suddenly, immediatey running for twenty or thir- ty yards. A gunner has often fol- lowed one quail in this way for half a day, expended a lot of shells and never got a feather. On snow the bird realizes that its hue is no protection at all, and runs fast, flushes at long distances and flies far. Waking in the morning to find the white mantle over everything, it knows that a dangerous time is ahead of it and it is constantly on the alert. The ruffer grouse is scare wilder. There is quite a shade of difference in the color of quail which feed and roost in open fields and those which have woods for a habitat. The woods birds are always darker; they are al- ways of stronger and more erratic flight and are generally larger. This variation is sometimes so marked as to lead people into believing that the country contains a dozen varieties of the Bob White. The quail when wounded or closely pressed occasionally makes use of queer hiding places. Hunting once over country thinly settled with cac- tus Du Val West, of San Antonio, Texas, flushed a single bird which he missed with both barrels. The quail pitched not more than 200 yards off. Again his faithful dog found it and again two cartridges were wasted. The quail was marked down once more and the dog came to a point. Going forward West saw a hole in the bare ground some six inches in dia- meter: its ‘bottom was out of sight. The dog was pointing the hole, its Anxious to see the end of it West called “Seek dead! Seek dead!” The dog plunged its head into the hole, grabbed the quail and dragged it out by the tail. Once above ground the bird wrenched itself free, leaving all of its tail feath- ers in the dog’s mouth, and buzzed away in very erratic flight. West missed again. Quail will take refuge in snake holes, in hollow logs and in hollow trees, going headlong into places which are pitch dark. They have been known to pitch in a farmer's front yard and run under the house among the chickens. If the snow is a foot deep and loose enough they will pitch upon it head downward and bury themselves. Of- ten the leose snow falls together at the point of entrance and then the quail is securely hidden, as its scent will not come to the surface. Often, however, the snow shows where the bird has plunged. In the South and West there are many men who habitually hunt quail without dogs and make fair bags. They possess, of course. an intimate knewl- edge of the ground and know where the: birds are to be found at any hour of the day. No human being, however, is a good quail retriever. and these men lose all winged birds as well as a good many of those killed in air.—New York Sun. Berkshire Sweethearts. ‘Here is a conversation between a pair of Berkshire sweethearis: John,” quoth she, “why doesn’t ‘ee say summat?”’ John reflected. ‘Cause I ha'n’t got nothen to say,” Le replied. Again there was silence, and once more it was the woman who took the initiative: “John,” she inquired, tenderly, “why doesn’t “ee tell me that ‘ee loves ma?” “’Cause I've telled ’ee that afoor,” answered John, who evidently disap- proved of vain repetitions. . But the lady was tenacious of her privileges and not easily daunted. “John,” she asked, for the third time, “why doesn’t ‘ee gimma a Kiss?” ‘The tardy wooer pondered long. “I be gwine to, presen’ly,” he said, i at length.—Cripple Creek Times. Penologiecal Philosophy. “Inmates of the penitentiary have a way of making remarks and asking questions that are sometimes start ling,” remarked a prison official. “Give me a sample?’ replied the Ob server. ‘The other day two of the men were tajking over plans for.the future after their respective terms had expired. One of them exclaimed: ‘When I get out of here I intend to go so far away that it will take $9 to send a postal card to reach me.’ ** ‘And how do xou ‘spect to get dere vousef? inquired a colored man, who knew that finances were not fiusn among the inmates of the hig prison. The conversation ceased at that point, for the negro had plumped out a poser.”—Columbus Dispatch. The Inquisitive Yankee Abroad. A curious American arrived in Lon- don yesterday morning. Here are a few of the questions he asked in the ‘evening: Why do butchers wear blue aprons which will not show dirt, while assistants in boot sheps wear immacu- late white aprons? Why is footwear “boots,” while the boy who polishes them is a *‘shoe’” black? Why is there no direct bus from London Bridge station to Waterloo? Why is the poste resiante in the largest city in the world not open all night? Why do many women wear straw hats in the winter? Why can’t you get breakfast in a res- taurant within reasonable time after “sun-up?’ When is “sun-up” any- how “— London Chronicle. Sheep Raising in New Mexico. New Mexico is a great sheep coun- i {ry. There is, but one other State or Territory which excels it in sheep raising. That is Utah, where there are 8,000,000 or 9,000,000 sheep. New Mexico has about 6,000,000. The in- dusiry was lever So prosperous as at present. : thought of. “So placed, the quail will! In Russia factories are usually near forests, wood being still the chief fuel, flaring nostrils within two inches of it. |. ERY Rt TneWesTERN AMESBURY LINE. Surreys, Buggies, Road Spring Wagons If he does not handle our line, write us. We will furnish you with the name and address of a nearby dealer who does. ; Look at one of our jobs and compare it with other makes, the price the same, but our work is twice as good. Every job guaranteed. We want a wide awake Dealer in unoccupied territory. Designers and Buiiders of HIGH GRADE VEHICLES PONTIAC BUGGY CO., Pontiac, Mich. Have you time to think? It will pay you well to think of the HARVARD PIANO when you are ready to buy The Highest Possible Value for the price charged Touch, Tone and Finish Unexcclied : If not sold by your local dealer, write us for special price. Catalogue for the asking, 8. E. Cor. Fourth and Elm Streets THE HARVARD PIANO CO. Cincinnpati, Ohio MYSTERIOUS IN ITS ACTIONS! UICK IN AFFORDING RELIEF! IMMEDIATE IN ITS BENEFICIAL RESULTS! Unexcelled as a BLOOD PURIFIER ! Marvelous asan ALTERATIVE in its stimulant effect on a TORPID LIVER. A sovereign cure for DYSPEPSIA; INDIGESTION, OPPRESSION AND WANT OF APPETITE. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers