THEY ARE SIXTY-SEVEN. I met a little Mormon girl; She was just eighteen, she said, Her hair was dressed with one big curt That dangled from her head. She had a simple way, and bland; Her speec h was soft and cool, And in her honest, widespread hand She bore a milking stool. “How many children, little maid, Are in your family?’ “How many? Sixty-seven And shyly looked at me. she said, Her hazel eyes to mine she raised, And then she cast them down. * “1 did not ask,” I said, amazed, ‘The census of your town. “How many children ‘round your. door Disport in childish glee?” “Just sixty-seven,” she s said, once more, And smiled again at me. — “Forty of us at Provo dwell; At Ogden there are nine; The good ship Jane, they sail her w ell— Twelve brothers, ' dear, of mine. “7 see at last. Your meaning’s clear,” Said I, with laughter merry; “1s it an or phanage, my dear, Or a female seminary?’ “My father kind is drawing near, » The little maid replied; «He's been to roam; he’s bringing home Another brand new bride. “With father dear we dwell at peace; Our mothers are eleven; rl Round every door ther And we are sixty-seven. "00m for more And then I left in dumb dismay The maid with eyes like heaven; But as I left I heard her say, “And I'm the oldest, by the way, Of all the sixty-seven.” — Council Bluffs (Iowa) Nonpareil. ¢ | While Breakfast Waited. | $ $ he * By Otho B. Senga. $ 3 “ They sat at the extreme ends of the garden seat. The man glared resent- fully at the girl; the girl gazed se- renely off into “the "distance. “Isn’t this a deuce of an awkward position?” he begat, ntoodily. “Pardon me, I am sitting as grace- fully as I know how.” “It isn’t that—you. know what I mean-—you. know what is expected , of us.” “I could hardly help knowing,” wear- ily. “I’ve heard nothing élse for the last six years.” “That's right; we may as well bé perfectly honest. No One need be sur- prised if I say I’ve hated you all that time, even though I haven't seen you.” “Well, I haven’t loved you,” tartly. “No, I suppose not; I dare say it has been as bad for you as for me. “Oh, worse; infinitely worse!” “I don’t know why worse—" defen- sively. “Oh, everything is always worse for a woman. A girl always has her ideals 2 “And, I don’t in the least corre- spond—'* tentatively, with evident afx- iety. 4 “Not in the least,” promptly. “What is the matter with me, I'd like to know?’ slightly aggressive. “Well, since you'd ‘like to know,’ you are too conceited.” “Conceited? Me? Well, I like that! You're talking frank, to say the least.” “I can afford to be—I'm not trying to captivate you.” “I can readily believe that. thing else?” “You are not tall enough.” I measure five feet eleven inches—” hotly. ‘My ideal,” calmly, “is six feet two. Then you are too fat—you don’t take exercise 2 “Great Scott! ing the landscape. a prize fighter!” “I am glad you do,” patronizingly. “you would be actually obese if you didn’t.” The man fairly gasped with rage. “It was you, I believe, who suggest- ed being perfectly honest,” she re- marked. A long silence. The girl scanned the hazy blue of the New Hampshire hill; the man watched her face, noting the beauty of the curve from ear to chin, and the fine, preud poise of the head. “Do you know,” he said suddenly, “if 1 had met you anywhere else, not knowing you are Helene Hunter whose lands join mine—I am sick of hearing about these lands—I should have fallen in love with you?” “1 would expect you to,” indifferent- Any- Hear her!” address- “And I train like ly. “You would?” “Certainly; I consider that I am well worth falling in love with.” “Oho! Nothing conceited about her, now is there?” appealing to the land- scape. “And yet,” continuing medi- tatively, “you aren't at all like the girl I've always imagined 4d “Tell me about her,” imperiously. “She is dainty and petite.” Miss Hunter, being five feet nine, looked her contempt. “A most bewitching blonde.” Miss Hunter's dark head moved a trifle higher. “She has the most exquisite complexion I ever saw— By the way, I wish you’d turn that par- asol a little; that green lining makes you look positively ghastly.” “1 know that,” hastily. “That is the reason I brought it.” The olive cheek flushed and the crimson lip quivered. “But beautiful as she is personally,” with increasing enthusiasm, “it is her disposition that I most admire.” The parasol was slowly and cautiously low- ered to the ground. She is SO sweet and patient and gentle “A modern female Moses, I dare say!” «And never indulges in sarcasm,” “and is always anxious to e others— Oh, well,” leaving the ¢t with seeming reluctance, ‘this never do. It's understood that I cought to propose to you—" inquiring- ly. “Of course, it is expacted of you. But consolingly, “you know g to refuse.’ as to that.” mas “you may do as you like. mercy——> have to she animously, I’m at your “rd speech,” cried “whether I wanted to ¢ «I suppose all the m will be noring her blaze of VV LTV TV LTVRVLVIVOD refuse, after that planned ever since ildren. Every letter I've Aunt Polly has filled w ttering descriy of you you | have improved some,’ ’ judicially crit- ical, “in the last six years. Helene,” suddenly, ‘““do you remember the "day vou fell off the“ bridge at Stony Brook, and cut your head, and came SO near . drowning?” - 5 “I remember,’ very iy “I must have drowned but for you. And you | carried me home in your arms, a full mile.” ; “1 believe 1 aid.” Aha’ you had terri- bly long legs—"’ reminiscently. “I’ve got enough ‘to stand on now, she retorted * with ‘spirit, “which is more than ‘you will have,” with the relatives, if you don’t propose pretty. soon!” “Well, I'm ohic to. You don’ t feel a bit like falling in love—" enxiously. “Not with you. Do you feel any symptoms of anything of the kind?” “Nary symp. Well, here goeés—I suppose we may as well get the awk- ward job” over with. Helene, Miss Hunter—ahem—ahem—— “It must be very painful,” with pre-: tended concern. ‘Perhaps you had better wait a while. You know you only reached home last night. We might be forgiven if we failed to un- derstand why we were sent out to take a walk in the garden before break- fast.” “No, it will have to be done sooner or later, and it may as well be now. Hold your parasol back of you, will you? I'm positive Aunt Polly is look- ing out of the south window.” “you said the lining was unbecom- ing——" “And you said you didn’t care “Well, any woman wants to look her best when receiving a proposal. Of course, I haven't the exquisite com- plexion of your divinity » “Who said I had any divinity? I didn’t. I haven't even thought of any other woman since we—while you —you with your six-feet-two ideal, your Adonis, who isn’t fat > “Don’t get excited. I can see a pair of field-glasses leveled from the vines on our worth piazza, and I have no doubt Aunt Moilie is behind them.” “They've spoiled everything for us, Helene, the aunts and the uncles on both sides. If they'd let°us alone, as we were six years ago; but they con- cocted this scheme of joining the lands —and us—and this is the result! You hate me——" «Aunt Kitty is waving her handker- chief, Philip. We must go in. Are you going to finish that proposal or not?” “yes, I am,” with grim determina- tion. “Helene Hunter, will you be my wife?” “No, I will not. There, that’s done with Aunt Molly is expecting you to breakfast with us, Phil.” “And Aunt Polly is expecting you at our house. Don’t hurry, Helene. 1 say, Helene, it’s an awful pity we couldn’t like one another 2 “It does seem so,” sighing and Sinlke ing back upon the seat again. «It wiil be a dreadful disappointment to all these old people,” regretfully. “You see, we being orphans, and own- ing all these lands—isn’t the air sweet with the roses, Helene?—and such friends as we were in childhood, they really had a right to expect; “1 know. Isn't it terrible? 1 really dread to meet Aunt Mollie and Aunt Kitty, and as for poor Uncle Charlie—" “Uncle Ben will grieve himself sick, and Aunt Polly will be furious > “Heavens, ves; I'll be actually afraid to go near your house again. I won’t dare let any of them know that I re- fused you.” “1°11 tell you, Helene,” soothingly, “if you think it will make matters any easier for you, you can propose to me, and I'll refuse ? “Philip Parkhurst, you are perfectly odious! “Not at all,” argumentatively. “It’s like this: 1 propose to you—you re- fuse; you propose to me—I decline. Nong of the relatives can attach any blame to either of us.” “That does sound plan— ‘Good! Why, With enthusiasm. Put the parasol ‘behi Aunt Mollie and Aunt Kitty on the piazza now.” “Never mind; that’s tation of interest. 33 of . like a good »» simply great!” y go ahead.” you, then. are both it’s 2 ly a manifes- Aunt Polly is still .gazing from uth window. However I'll take wrasol if you 5, do; my back your Aunt Polly, but I bel others could see what I am sé 7 have the field-glasses.” The parasol is “Is the green 1 ing, Helene?” ing, carefully a “How As if that made any difference man! “Gh, well, on an occasion like this, you know— Now, all ready!” “I wish you'd close your eyes, Phil. This is very embarrassing, I never pro- posed to any one before, you know—" “Oh, didn’t you?” tinocently. “Philip Parkhurst, how dare you!” “Excuse me, excuse me—of course not. 1 was thinking of something else——"" “Right in the midst of a plomaisit” “It wasn’t exactly in the midst, Hel- ene; just on the verge, so to speak. I was wondering if it would be polite for me to refuse—er-coming from a lady, you see—] hardly know—is there any authority a sure you'll refuse, “You are very Phil * “Very sure. 1 wouldnt, thaugh,” opening his eyes sudenly, and speak- ing with force and decision, “if it weren't for that infernal bean-pole ideal of yours— “And I would never have refused you, only for that blonde dwarf with the amiable disposition.” “Go on, Helene,” he said, chokingly “Close your eyes again. Now—" A long pause. “My” goodness! isn’t it awful? I don’t believe 4° woman would let a ‘man flounder around and not lend a helping hand.” “Impossible, Helene; -it fakes, both .hands to hold- the parasol. Unless you'd like me to put that down 2 “No, no, don’t. They.are.all on the Piazza. now— Uncle Charlie and all; and,’ * glancing fearfully over her shoul- der, “oh, Phil, your Aunt Polly is fair- ly flattening her rose ers the south wihdow.” A prodigious forced yawn is the only reply. : ie ‘“Are you sure your eyes are tightly closed, Phil?” “Glued, actually glued, Helene.” “Well,” hesitatingly, lier breath com- ing short and fast, “Philip Parkhérst, ‘will you marry me?’ The parasol went flying through the air, and the man caught the girl in a quick embrace. “Sure thing, Helene! Never was so glad before in all my life!” “Oh, looking: “Of course they are; but you don’t care—now we're engaged, do you, Hel- ene?’ “Phil,” reproachfully, “do you think that was fair?” “Well, you needn’t have grown up to be so bewilderingly beautiful—" “I wanted to,” laughing joyously. “I was so afraid I wouldn't be pretty when you came back.? I knew you'd think of me as you saw me last.” “Helene, you do love me, don’t you?” “A little “That's enough—it’ll grow; I'll see to that. Dearest, haven't you known all these years that I loved you?” “Yes” shyly, “I knew by my own feelings.” “You adorable “Don’t, Phil; ing the bell.” “Just a second. engaged ?”’ “Very sure, Phil dear.” “And you love me? Say it, Hel- ene.” “And I love you, Phil.” He drew her hand through his arm, tenderly. “All right, sweetheart; now we’ll have breakfast.”—Woman’s Home Companion. ” don’t, don’t, Phil. They're all 3 3 Aunt Kitty is ring- Are you sure we're QUAINT AND CURIOUS. In Mexico the family of a dead duel- ist can claim support from the per- son who shot him. The Ainu women in Japan tattco their faces to give them the appear- ance of men with whiskers. In the course of a murder trial at Cape Town recently the defendant, an aged Malay trader, admitted that he had 27 wives. In the schools of Rhenish, Prussia, a change of stockings and shoes is pro- vided for the use in school of chil- dren who arrive with wet feet. The wives of Siamese noblemen have their hair cut in pompadour style. It is usually about one and a half inches in length and sticks up straight, like the hairs in a blacking brush. The most expensive fur is that of the of the black fox of Kamschatka, the skin of which, when dressed, becomes a very attractive blue. A single skin is worth as much as $1000. Ohio has come to the front with a new injunction. It was granted to a man to prevent his wife from going on a strike, and now she has got to do all the housework or be in contempt of court. Dusseldorff newspapers announce the death of an armless painter named Siepen, who became quite noted for his genre pictures. He painted with his left foot. Many of his pictures are in gland. Cat That Summoned Maid to Open Door. A wonderful cat attracted the tion of every one who yesterday pass- ed up or down Eighth street on the west side between Locust and Spruce. Pussy was pure white. She was stand- ing upon the step railing of a h which was just high enough to enable her to reach the electric button with her paw. She manipulated this so vigorously that the door was scon ened by a servant, who picl sy up, took her in her arms, entered the house and closed the door. It was the sentiment of the trick that M: e might be, Philadelphia Evening ’ atten- se a lami... 1 PN P aan NEUMONIA SUPREME. HAS SUCCEEDED SED CONSUMPT ICN AS WINTER'S DEADLY DISEASE. It 1s Now Generally Believed to Be More Walking Were Indulged in Bronchial Trouble Would Not Be So Prevalent. Among the pulmonary diseases, pneumonia for. some years has been achieving a deadly supremacy, espe- cially in the large cities. Tuberculosis of the lungs no longer causes SO many deaths in New York, for example, as pneumonia, which works with a terri- ble rapidity upon riuch the same tis- sues. We are now in the midst of a pneumonia - season; and people -in this northeast section of the country are in the heart of the penumonia belt. Until April, or the last of March, the danger from .this disease will be constantly lurking about us, and wise people will, so far as possible, be on, their guard. Infectious—If In the two largest American cities last .week the death rate from pneu- monia broke the municipal records. In Chicago there were 139 deaths and in New York 172. The mortality in New" York the present week, from this one ill, is expected to go higher still.- It is significant that while in New York the general death rate the past- year has been the lowest in a century, the rate - for pneumonia, influenza and “consumption” has shown no. decline, pneumonia alone carrying off nearly 9000, persons. . That this disease, too, appears to be particularly deadly among persons. of ady anced years is a matter of common observation; ‘and’ there is some scientific confirmation for this view in the fact that in New York the past year the only increase in the number of deaths has been among people in age 65 years or more. If pneumonia’ is an infections dis- ease, as is now generally believed, its ravages in great centres of population may have been increased and extended on account of the modern system of rapid transit. This, at any rate, is be- ing advanced as a hypothesis to ac- count for the marked increase of the mortality from pneumonia at this sea- son of the year, in places like Chicago and New York, where millions of peo- ple ride daily in the closed cars of the surface and elevated railroads. These cars also contain many persons with “colds,” the cars are often badly ven- tilated, with polluted air, and some- times they are damp and low in tem- perature. The complaint in New York is that the cars are not warm enough and that people become ill because they have been chilled. Yet even warm cars are not the healthiest places to be in for any length of time at this season of the year, especially when they are crowd- ed. The man who persists in riding on the platform, where the air is fairly fresh, even if it is cold, may have 2 fine method of seeming madness. It is surely not very conducive to health to bake over a hot-air register in a trolley car for half an hour and then suddenly pass out into the open, where the temperature is well below freezing. if every one walked as in the good old days, it is probable that pneu- monia and bronchial troubles would not show such an alarming increase; and this may be said without throwing the blame for the conditions com- plained of upon the trolley. City peo- ple now walk far too litle at any sea- son of the year. A nickel is a small sum, and the temptation to ride has settled into a confirmed habit. It is little realized, however, how much good the habit of walking in winter does for the physique in toughening it to exposure, and thus warding off colds, bronchial and pulmonary trou- bles. Great numbers of city people who live in the harsh winters of the north temperate zone have actually become strangers to their own climate. Instead of ‘cultivating it,” so to speak, as their anrestors were obliged to, they have in a real sense deacclima- tized themselves. The most of their time, day and night, is spent within an area of artificial heat. Their houses are always kept at an average temperature of 75 degrees to 80 de- grees; when they start out to busi- ness or go shopping they allow them- selves but a few minutes in the cold, bracing open air, taking the inevita- ble car, and then passing the rest of the time in hot offices and stores. It is literally true that hundreds of thousands of well-to-do people in our cities live indoors during our winters at least 22 out of the 24 hours. And there they sit and steam and wonder where they have caught such dreadful colds. It is a significant fact that pneumonia rages among all classes, the rich and comfortable as well as the poor. It is a real eye-opener to some of us, after find when the winter and our Joie g ath the coal famine, to that | we was over live in this cli- forget to Been on HH we mate we nn are going to 1st not und Tout € human lif tions which other extreme. zed in front and } 1 heir anci 'S , and the wea in having g to live In «« may be des vere ribed as too otter em of open wood cer ones had a peril- Bu ous life journey. are going to the opposite limit of e yinacy.. It} the polar bear 1aved off ve on the ic a $12 ove is here of fur and tried to li in a muf filer and imate rcoat. v the ¢C EEE a "with her f frozen in back | a at “braving the elements”; for they are really kind to one whq values a certain intimacy with them. The mere habit of turning up one’s coat collar against the cold air has probably killed off thousands of people since civilization came in, for a throat may become deli- cate in no time because of superfluous covering. The fundamental problem for a well man or woman is to keep up the gen- eral health; special conditions, of course, always apply to those who lack natural vigor or have been en- febled by disease. To keep up the gen- eral health is to keep such diseases as pneumonia, colds and coughs at a distance. But when you take every means to deacclimatize yourself -by forever evading contact with the rough embraces of our wintry weather. Keep on good terms, if possible, with the climate. It will pay you weil.—Spring- field Republican. INDIAN LEGEND. How the Chief’s Squaw Found a New Dish. “One morning ,the mighty hunter, Wolssis, bade his wife cook for his dinner a choice bit of moose meat, and have it ready when the tail stick which he stuck in the snow-drift should throw its shadow to a certain point. Moqua was a meek wife, so she prom- ised to obey, and well did she know her fate in case of failure. After her lord departed she hewed off the meat sharpest stone knife, and filling an earthen pot, er kokh, «with snow for melting, she hung it over the fire. “Then she sat down to her embroid- ery. It was her pride that Woksis, her lordly husband, should sport the gayest moccasins in the tribe, and many hours did she spend every day in working with bright colored porcu- pine quills. For no brave in all that country was so warlike as Woksis, no squaw so skiiled in embroidery as Moqua. As she worked on the moc- casins hours passed as minutes. She took no note of time, so busy was she in her labor of love. Suddenly she heard a startling noise, the bark string that held the kokh suspended was burned off, and a quenching, scattering explosion followed the overthrow of the pot. “What could she do? There was no water, the melted snow was gone, and she must boil the moose meat. before her lord's return. It was growing late, there was no time to melt more snow, so seizing a birch bucket of maple water that was always tapped in the spring for its sweet flavor, she filled the kokh anew and hung it over the mended fire. Into it she pounded corn to bake on the slab before the fire. Then she resumed her embroidery, in which the quills were both needle and thread. She was working the totem of her race, the bear, so different from the wolves, eagles and turtles of other tribes. “Dreaming of her husband’s future success in hunt and battle, the hours passed away by; the shadow crept past the mark; the fire burned low; the once juicy meat was a shirveled morsel in a mixture of gummy dark liquid. When she saw this the fright- ened squaw ran into the bushes and hid herself from the rage of her com- ing lord. After a long and silent wait- ing she carefully drew near the camp once more, and what did she see? There was Woksis devouring the mor- sel of moose meat, and her wonder was great when he deliberately broke the earthen pot and carefully licked out the last vestige of her spoiled cook- ing. “She forgot her fears and cried out in surprise. When discovering her Woksis said, ‘Oh, Moqua, my Wwise squaw, who taught thee such a marvel of cooking? Was the Great Spirit thy instructor? With great joy he embraced her, and in his sticky kiss she tasted the first maple sugar.”— Pittsburg Gazette. Russia and the Supply of Flax. Russia produces 80 percent of the flax crop of the world, and the pro- duction of that country practically con- trols the market in America and all other countries. Samuel Gerstle, who is engaged in the importation of linen, said: “Russia is the fountain head of the world’s linen supply, and flax is rais- ed there quite cheaply. It cannot be produced successfully in America, and the country’s supply is imported. If it were not for the import duty the material would be cheaper than cotton, and the market for the latter product in America is preserved only by the duty which must be paid. The war will not have any effect upon the market, in my opinion, but what will effect it is the fact that Russia is con- templating levying an export tax on the commodity, and that will be a heavy drawback if carried out. The product now leaves Russia duty free —Louisville Courier-Journal. —— eo We Are All Just Folks. “My boy,” said a ma of Texas to his son, W out n of the state 10 was starting for a career in n eastern city, let me tell yuu something may be of help to you. You get there and you may see a heap of le who have got more mo 7 than 1 have; a heap of people 10 have more brains than you have, and succe Some of them may be better looking than you are. 't you worry bone hat, and don’t rou be scared of any y. Whenever neet a man who. eliows he’s your r, you just look at him and say ourself, ‘After ay you're just You want to remember for fg, te just folk as long arour ill come to see that | t folks. knockex as PANTOMIME FAIRIES. How They Learn the Difficult Task of Ballet Dancing. ’ Nobody has the least idea of what training for pantomime means until a visit has been paid to Mme. Lan- ner’s school of ballet dancing, says the London Daily Mail. There dancers ranging in age from sweet faced tiny mites of 6 to beautiful women whose age one will not be ungallant enough to think about, daily and patiently go through a course of training, acquiring steps and deportment that later on will be seen at the Garrick, Vaude~ ville, Bmpire, Alhambra and else- where. : Mme. Morris, one of Mme. Lanner’s teadhers, - told the writer .that a fin- ished dancer is the product of many years strenuous work. A child of 6 can learn to dance well in a few months, but to acquire the grace and agility of the finest of the Spanish dancers now performing .n London re- quires twenty years of unremitting practice. There are very few ro ever train- ed as pantomime dancers. The reason is that the male sex is awkward, their joints are hopelessly stiff, and they can never hope to aspire to anything of a higher grade than step dancing. It is one of the prettiest sights on earth to watch a score or so of’little girls assemble in the dim- ly lit room where Mme: Lanner’s class- es are held. .Huge mirrors are arranged round the walls, a piano stahdg: in a corner, but seldom gets played, because for a long time the novice has to practice nothing but ‘steps to a monotonous one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, hop!” spoken by the teacher. “All ze girls please togazier!” com- mands madame, and promptly tiny tots of 6, and graceful young women of 16 or so, all garbed to a girl in short, white muslin skirts, pink sashes, and ghts, grip with one hand a rail fix- ed to the wall, extend the other arm on a level with their shoulders and deftly kick their hands. 'seven times in succession. Watch the children and one sees that they thoroughly enjoy the train- ing. Every movement of the first, second, third, and fourth positions, under which headings the various steps are grouped, has been studied by the lit- tle ones, and each member of ‘the class en&eay ors to give to her individ- ual rendering harmonious movement of the whole body. Many of the little dancers can stand on their toes and pirouette like tops, and then, with modesty, ele- gance and ease, go down until their knees almost touch the ground, rising up again with a graceful wave of the hand and a sunny smile. To give suppleness to the limbs a series of exercises are gone through with first one leg, while the whole weight of the body rests on the other. The positions are reversed every few minutes, and in this manner both limbs receive equal attention and ob- tain equal suppleness. A watering-can plays a prominent part in a ballet class room. It would seem that the thousands of steps in- dulged in have a tendency to raise the dust and bring about an epidemic of coughing. Therefore, a little judicious sprinkling at intervals has the effect of allaying this. Safety in the Philippines. A white man taroughout the Philip- pines is as safe in traveling or living as in Arizona or Colorado or Montana. He may go about with perfect freedom. Not only that, but the people are ready and anxious to show him hos- pitality. The Filipino from whom he asks a night's lodging feels highly honored, and gives him of his best. The men salute him as he passes, and the children cry “Buenas dias,” and are very proud if their salutation is returned. Among the wild people, the situation is much the same, although here it is better to send notice of one’s coming in advance, and to bear some sort of credentials. To ilustrate the situation, the work of the provincial treasurers is instanc- ed. Each of these (they are all Am- ericans) is required by his business to visit every pueblo of his province, and such a trip may involve hundreds of miles of travel overland on horseback or by carromata. So far as known, no treasurer has ever been molested, although he often carries much monev about him. The provincial supervis- ors, also Americans, are obliged to travel everywhere, as are many other civil officers of the government. At the present time, Americar all ns are over the islands on one errand cv an- other, public or private. No ore thinks of danger or -proviles against iit.—Henry Gannett, in the National Geographic Magazine. The Saltness of the Dead Sea. What makes the Dead Sea salt is a question that has been discussed for centuries, and the most recent explan- ation is that advanced by William Ack- royd, who assigns as the most impor- tant cause the atmospheric transporta- tion of salt from the Mediterranean Sea. Previously it has been assumed that the saltness of this historic body of water was due to the soil and rocks, which, it is now thought, would not be able to furnish the amount required, and that the Dead Sea was once a p part of the Red Sea, which had been cutoc by the rising of Palestine and concen- trated by evaporation, a hypothesis which is not supported by facts. Ac- cord to Ackroyd’s theory the winds blowing from the Mec ranean would bring rain charged with salt, in proof is it is stated that the proportion of chlorin to bromin is the same in the i the Mediterrane- wl y AR pl pdt Cad Pel bed ed MN ID a amit pp
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers