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
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