EG sameti (A ELLE cr BR MA WOR FS I 4
sR
RE BAAR ee
1 A SONG FOR THE TWENTIETH CENTURY.
We tread a better earth to-day
Than that the fathers knew;
A broader sky line rounds away
To realms of deeper blue.
More ample is the human right,
More true the human ken;
The law of God has been a light
To lead the lives of men.
He led our generation on
In mist of smoldering fire:
To more than all the centuries gone
The marching years aspire.
Across the onward sweep of time
We strain our vision dim,
‘And all the ages roll and climb
To lose themselves in Him.
‘We gaze upon the sons past—
And slowly,
The water seems to heave
A blind and tumbling surge,
from the weltering vast
Behold a low emerge.
and sway
In chaos undenied,
Yet not a foam fiake goes astray,
For He was wind and tide.
Oh, Purpose of the stumbling years,
Oh, Wistful Need and Hope.
Whereby in all the woven spheres
The atoms yearn and grope
Flow through the w andering w ill of man
A tide of slow. decree,
And merge our strivings in the plan
That draws the world to Thee.
—(Chicago Standard.
ESTHER'S OPINION.
By HELEN FORREST EN FORREST GRAVES.
3
i.
Mr. Martin had just come in to tea.
It was one of those sultry summer
evenings when the leaves hang stir-
dessly on the trees, and dull electric
fires blaze along the east, foreboders
of a storm.
It had been very hot all day, the
farm-hands had lagged at their work
on the lowland meadow, and all the
world’s wheels seemed to revolve as if
they were weighted. Mr. Martin was
very tired, and withal, a little cross.
Perhaps Mrs. Martin was tired, too.
She, poor soul, had been up since four
o'clock in the morning. She had
washed, taken care of four cows’ bilk,
prepared three meals for the hungry
farmhands, been up in the quarry
woods to search for a family of ad-
venturous young turkey-chicks, sooth-
ed the sorrows of a teething baby,
and mended up the suit of clothes
which Betsey Blim, the tailoress, had
Peclared ‘not worth a needleful 0’
thread!” because Thomas, her hus-
band, bad said that “willful waste was
woeful want,” and that there was a
deal of wear in the suit yet, if only
that was a stitch taken here and there.
But her cheeks were pink and her
eyes sparkling when Thomas came in,
for all the heaviness of her heart and
the dull pain in her back, for little
Esther had come home from boarding
school.
Esther, the youngest sister of all,
the darling of the family-circle from
which Mrs. Martin came, the pet for
whom they all had scraped and pinch-
ed so that she, at least, might have a
“Boston education.”
And Esther sat in the window-seat,
grown into a blooming young woman,
with Dbronze-brown hair lying in
fluffy masses over her fair forehead,
porcelain-blue eyes, and a dress all
trimmed with ribbon bows.
“Look, Thomas!” cried Mrs. Martin,
excitedly, “it’s Essie! Essie come home
two days before we expected her!”
“Yes, I see,” said Hr. Martin, in the
cold, measured tones which always
dampened his wife's enthusiasm like
so many drops of freezing water.
“How do you do, Esther? Ruth, what
are you putting cold chicken on the
table for? Corned-beef is plenty I
am sure. You had a great deal bet-
ter save the chicken for the men’s
breakfast. Working folks have hearty
oppetites.”’
“Bsther is fond of cold chicken,”
whispered Mrs. Martin.
“No one need want anything better
than good corned-beef,” judicially pro-
pounced Mr. Martin. “Put the chicken
back into the pantry, and the apple
jelly with it. Good stewed gooseber-
ries are relish enough for anybody.
We must economize in little things as
well as large ones if we don’t want
io end our days in the poor-house.”
And Mrs. Martin sorrowfully obeyed,
while Essie watched her brother-in-
law with large, grave eyes betokening
inward surprise.
At the end of a week, Mr. Martin
addressed his sister-in-law with seri-
ous purpose.
“Well, Esther,” said he,
been here a week now.’
“Yes,” said Essie, “I’ve been “here a
week.”
“A week is a good long visit,”
marked Mr. Martin.
“It’s long enough for some things,’
said Essie.
“Mrs. Martin thinks she would like
to have you stay,” went on Mr. Mar-
tion, after a puzzled glance at the blue,
shining eyes. “And although, of
“you've
s
29%%%%%
TEe- |
course every one adds to the expense |
in a family like this, I've no objection
to giving you a home, provided you
are willing to earn it by hard work.”
“Stop!” cried Essie, jumping up. “I
he. “Of course
haven't asked you for a home yet.
And I don’t mean to.
only making me the offer
And you are |t
because |
Doctor Dorian says Ruth will break |
down unless she has a strong maid-
servant to help her with the house-
work. But there is no money that
would hire me to make myself such a
drudge poor Ruth is.”
“Hoity-toity!” said Mr. Martin.
“Young woman, you don’t consider
whom you are talking to.”
“Yes, I do,” said Essie, with emnp-
phasis. “To a Biuebeard, to a stock,
a stone, a man who is grinding his
wife's life out on the pitiless wheel of
money-making. No, 1 wouldn't live
as Ruth does, not if you would put me
in a palace!”
«“Humph!” said he. “Fine ideas you
have got at this fashionable boarding
school of yours. Well, if you don’t
like my offer, you're not obliged to ac- | fit
cept it. Be a fine lady, if you please,
and see where it will land you.”
By way of answer, Esie marched out
of the room with all the dignity of 2
royal princess. She only topped in
the kitchen long encugh to s Ruth,
who was in the midst of a baking.
«pgor darling,’ said she,
“how I |
|
fortably.
{
|
|
|
swish I could carry you off with me. |
For stay, I won't!”
L Soon
“Life is hard work, Essie, said Mrs.
Martin, beginning ta cry, in spite of
herself; “and it's a woman’s duty to
help her husband.”
“And I mean to help mine—when I
have one,” said Essie, blushing bright-
ly. “But not by wearing myself out.”
Mr. Martin shook his head.
“If Stephen Smith is foolish enough
to marry that saucy gipsy, shell lead
kim a pretty life,” said he. “1 wonder
if she expects to sit on a satin sofa
all her days, with a rose in her hand,
and her hair frizzled, in that prepos-
terous fashion, all over her eyes? But
I warn ’em, they need never come to
me for help! Esther has treated me
with too much insolence for me ever
to receive her again.”
“l am sure she did not mean any-
thing,” said Mrs. Martin, apologetical-
ly.
“Well, then, her words belied her
meaning,” remarked Thom~s Martin,
grimly compressing his lips.
But Stephen Smith was apparently
undaunted by the possibilities of ruin
predicted by Farmer Martin, for he
married Esther and went to the city
to live, within three months.
“I’ll give ’em a year to come back
here and eat humble pie,” said Martin
vindictively.
“Oh, Thomas, don't talk so!” said
his wife. “One would think you would
be glad to have some evil befall
them!”
“And so I should,” said Martin,
viciously grinding his teeth together.
“That girl needs a lot of humbling
and I hope she’ll get it.”
Three years afterward there came
one of those terrible droughts that un-
do a farmer's life-work in a season,
and swept away his prospects as an
autumn wind sweeps a sere forest.
The cattle died, a pestilence broke out
among the flock of sheep, which Thos.
Martin had just brought a high wind
blew his best barn over, and diaster
stared him in the face on every side.
“It’s no use talking,” he said. “I
can’t meet this year's interest on the
mortgage.
“Oh, Thomas!” groaned Mrs.
tin, who, poor soul, now lay all day
on a hard wooden lounge, and groaned
to see how woefully she was needed at
the hel
“l can’t help iH? said
“Everything is against me.”
“It’s only five hundred dollars
Mrs. Martin. “You might borrow it.”
“Who'd lend to me, I'd like to
know?’ said Martin, remembering
with a sigh how he had hardened his
Martin.
face against every humble suppliant in |
the golden days of his prosperity.
“There's Esther's husband,” sug-
gested Ruth. “I've neard that he is
doing well in Bosten. And, after ali,
Esther's my own sister.”
Mr. Martin's features contracted in-
to a hideous grimace. Of all the bit-
ter cups which circumstances had held |.
to his dips of late this was the bitter- |
est.
Bat it had to be
was no nelp for it.
“I didn’t suppose
as genteel as this,”
swallowed. There
Smith's folks lived
said he to himself,
as a neat maid led him across an oc- |
vestibule, flcored ith black- |
tagenal
and-red marble, and fragran with
| lowers, under the gnlden ih] of an
antique portiere, into a. large, twa
fuliy-furnished room, where the sing-
a sigh, how was Stephen to know all
that had come and gone?
Essie’s light step, on the passage-
way, sounded at this instant; and she
came in, dressed in a picturesque
brown linen blouse; her hair still
shading her forehead, like a fringe of
floss silk, after the old, graceful fash-
ion. f
“Yes,” she said, brightly, when her
brother-in-law’s errand was stated to
her; “of course you shall have it. 1
owe you as much as that, I think,
Thomas, were it only to erase from
vour memory that last scene of our
parting. How defiant and insolent it
was to be sure!” and she laughed the
sweetest of mellow laughter. “But I
insist upon it, still, that my theory was
correct; a woman can work, without
becoming a drudge.”
“Perhaps she can,” slowly and un-
willingly admitted Thomas Martin—
“perhaps she can! But it didn’t use to
be so, in my mother’s days.”
And he sighed to think of poor Ruth,
broken down in the meridian of her
days, by the cruel necessities that drive
the wife of an American farmer to her
doom. Was it his own fault? Per-
haps it was.
Essie’s thousand dollar loan was the
straw which saved him from figura-
tive drowning. He paid the interest,
bought a new flock of merino sheep,
and weathered the storm.
And the next year when Essie came
to the farm to assist her sister, for
the first time she found Ruth sitting
on the piazza, and watching the little
lambs play in the sunshine with list-
less, heavy eyes.
“Yes,” said Ruth, “I can’t work any
more. But Thomas is very kind. He
don’t grudge the hired girl's wages,
and he is always saying he wished he
had taken more care of me in the old
times. But it's tco late now. You
were right, Essie, when you said you
wouldn’t stay on here, and help with
the housework.”
“Yes,” said Essie, fondling the thin
hand which lay on the arm of the
rocking-chair, “I think I was right”
—New York Weekly.
QUAINT AND CURIOUS.
The propellers of the fast auto boats
revolve 1250 times a minute, giving a
speed of 25 miles an hour.
Of all the money transactions in the
country, 27 percent are carried through
by check; only 3 percent by notes or
gold.
Every fire station in Berlin is equip-
ped with an oxygen apparatus for re
viving persons overcome by smoke
and heat.
The place will have to go.” |
Mar- |
,’ said
Radium is the most remarkable sub-
stance on earth. The energy that a
| gram will give out hefore it is entire-
| 13 dissipated would raise 500 tons cne
mile high.
ydicals published in Germany, more
ran 27 percent are in other languages
n German, 9 percent being in Eng-
ish alone.
1
!
| Of the 12,7¢3 newspapers and peri-
i
{
Smith of Clinton, N. Y., is
st living college graduate in
He celebrated his 100th
A German statistician states that ev-
r year the dentists use about $500,-
00 worth of gold and that the richest
| gold mines in a few centuries will be
graveyards and cemeteries.
There are upward of 80,000 inhab-
itants on the slopes and skirts of
Vesuvius. If it were pot for the fer-
tilizing effect of the volcanic products
not more than one-tenth of that num-
er would be able to find means of
subsistence there.
Walnut is only empicyed in France
in cabinet and carpenter's work. In
9(2 the imports of wainut were 24.2
and ‘exports 5623 ‘tons. During
t four years the imports have
declined, while exports have
sed from 3640 tons im 1899 to
s in 1902.
EI Cafetal,a coffee trade journal pub-
ing birds, the open piano, the low sat- > 3 :
ar > 2 “> | lished in New York, is authority for
in sofa all betokened no lack of} ¢ i 43 tie of
Socrey ] | the statement that the guantity of cof-
wa ; . | fee yearly bought and sold in the
Yes—Mr. Smith was at home. He rld’s trade is worth $255,000,000,
had not yet gone to the store, and | which probably corresponds to a net
presently he came in, waving welcom-
ings to the man who had married Es- |
ther's sister.
“lend you a thousand dollars?’ said
we can lend you a
and dollars. What is money for
to help each other with. Ch
thous
if not
ves. We've a snug little sum la
{ up in the bank, and we live very com-
business? Yes, it's tol-
got us all these
My
erable, but it never
things,” glancing at the soft arabes-
gues of the carpet, the graceful folds
of the crimson silk curtains, and the
easel filled with proof engravings.
“That is my wife's doing.”
“Eh?’ sald Mr. Martin,
around him.
> said Smi with a
quiet satisfaction. “Essie is an
tist, you know—a designer. She in-
re the paper-hangers
They are glad to
rs a week.”
week!” exclaimed |
that’s more—
s, I mean—than poor
by all her poultry for a
1 never!”
ca
life
fifty dollars
Ruth ma
Wel 211,
] he had never respect-
s her respected her now.
money laid up,” Ste-
“And i 1e’s the woman
won’t grudge it to
in a
said
=
I
1
help her cister’s husba
her
1
think she
pinch.”
11 and bitterne
with
~ Marti
iarun,
1 and bitter | of
coffee
|
yield frem c¢ er 1,8(0,000,660
| trees in full bearing.
A jeweler in Turin has made a tiny
of a single pearl. The hull is
ly shaped, and might serve as a
iel for a racing sloop, the sail is
of beaten gold, studded with diamonds,
and the binnacle light is a perfect
An emerald serves as its rudder
5 stand is a slab of ivory. Its
ss than an ounce, and it is
to have cost $5000.
It is difficult in Germany for a
professional rogue to enter a family
servant. There every
aracter book, in which
nust enter the dates of
| the coming and leaving of the servant,
| with her character while in the ser-
vice. This the girl is obliged to take to
| the nearest police station and have it
| dated with the official stamp, thus pre-
venting the manufacture cf bogus rec-
gImendsaens
stic
| >
}
Being the Mark.
send his letters
you?’ asked the blonde
the * bru tte,
“But not
them all. They will make
id book, 2nd 1 have a lovely
ttem aiready—“The Letters
.azy Lover.”—Cincinnati Times-
“So you're going to
3 Sey
with
until I
replied
cr eyes.
TORPEDOES IN WARFARE
THEIR SUCCESS IN CHILI, BRAZIL,
CHINA AND JAPAN.
Low Cost of the Destroyer Devices
by Which Battleships Hope to Es-
cape Destruction by the Swift Ma-
chine.
The Whitehead automobile torpedo
may be, regarded as the parent of al-
most ail the automobile torpedoes
which are now in use in the navies of
the world, writes Sir William Laird
Clouse in the London Telegraph.
Our own service torpedoes, which are
made at Woolwich, at Portland, and at
Leeds; the French service torpedoes,
many of which are made at Toulon;
the Russian service torpedoes, which
are made in Russia; the German ser-
vice torpedoes, which are made in Ger-
many—all owe their existence to the
original inention of Mr. Whitehead,
L an invention now more than a genera-
tion old; and although each national
type differs somewhat from every oth-
er, each still bears a strong cousinly
resemblance to the service torpedo
which the firm of Whitehead makes to-
day at Flume, on the Adriatic, for
such powers as have no torpedo manu-
facturing plant of their own. Among
these powers is Japan.
It is true that the original White-
head was a weapon that traveled on
the surface of the water only, while the
modern automobile torpedo is essen-
tially a submarine engine. Many
vears, nevertheless, have now elapsed
since the marvellous weapon, by steady
evolution, became extraordinarily per-
fect and formidable, although it is but
right to add that its improvement has
been continuing from first to last, and
is not yet at a standstill. Strange to
say, however the significance of the
automobile torpedo as a factor in naval
warfare is only now beginning to re-
ceive adequate recognition. The
weapon has always had its enthusiastic
champions of course, although until
quite recently they have been the few,
while its detractors have been in the
majority. According to some, the tor-
pedo was little better than a bogey;
according to others, it was suitable
for use only against vessels at anchor,
or vessels, with incompetent, if not
criminally careless, crews on board;
according to yet others, it could never
be employed with advantage against
ships of the civilized and well-disci-
plined races, especially if such ships
chanced to be under way.
It was admitted that the automobile
torpedo had won success during the
civil war in Chili, during the revolu-
tionary fighting in Brazil, and during
the conflict between Japan and China;
“but,” said the wiseacres, “wait until
one of the leading
concerned, and then you will see
although the torvedo may he all
well against South Americans or
low Men, it won’t work against
ilized Europeans.”
In spite of tiis sort of discourage-
ment, which reached them from within
the various services as well as from
without, torpedo officers have never
ceased to study and develop their fa-
vorite weapon. They increased its
speed from 10 to 12 to upwards of 30
miles an hour; they increased its range
from 300 cr 400 to a couple of thousand
yards or more; they increased its ex-
plosive-carrying capacity from 30 to
nearly 200 pounds; and they increases
the accuracy of its submarine flight,
both literal and vertical, until, even
in a cross-running tideway, its pre-
cision could be depended upon. By
means of a device which is now being
perfected in America the speed cf the
weapon can be increased to some 40
miles an hcur up to 2000 yards. The
process employed is a mere superheat-
ing of the compressed air as it is fed
from the ‘“flash,” or reservoir, to the
driving machinery; and it involves
that
very
Yel-
civ-
little additional expense. We know
now what the Japanese, acting not
against careless and ignorant Celes-
tials, but against the finest officers and
best ships of a leading European navy,
engine of destruction.
ever again decry the power of the tor-
yedo.
And
most highly developed form,
about £400.
anything from a million to a million
and a half sterling; yet, as events
have shown, it may easily fall victim
to its small and absurdly cheap foe.
this’ terrible tcrpedo, in its
costs only
outlay of, say £400 is likely to be the
pling of a 13,000-ton Czarevitch.
torpedo, if used at sea, must be dis-
charged from a vessel ef some sort,
by men who must inevitably run some
risk. But the craft which are usually
employed on torpedo work are smail,
costing, it may be, no more than frecm
£15,000 to £60,000 apiece, and having
but smail crews. Thus, there may be
terial and 15 and 20 lives, and on the
other a ship worth £1, 200,000, with
750 people on board: and, as we have
seen the cheap little Leat may spoil
the career of the splendid machine.
Even if the big ship do her worst in
such a case, she can do nothing ade-
quate. Let her sirk half a dozen of
her twopenny-halfpenny opponents and
drown all their crews, she must still
have run awful risks—risks which are
quite out of proportion to the objects
to be gained.
Is there, then, it will be asked, no
way of safety for the big ship? Un-
doubtedly there is. The nose of the
modern torpedo is furnished with a
“cutter” which will shear a way
through any ordinary steel net that
ray be hung round a ship for her pro-
but there are nets—and our
| possesses them—which are cut-
i ter-proof. and, moreover, these nets, al-
| thcugh at much inconvenience, can
naval powers is |
« A big battleship costs | 3 :
es p | on by the moderate use of sedatives,
Of course, I do not mean that the mere |
| ed unconsciousness
sole expenditure involved in the crip- |
The |!
has been able to do with this perfected
No one will |
| conscicus
| should
| the appearance of
hanging round the threaten
vessel, even while she is moving ot iow
speed through the water. Such de-
vices, combined with the keeping of a
good lookout by means of fast scouts,
the cultivation of coolness and accura-
cy at gun practice by night as well as
by day, a proper knowledge of the
uses and limitations of the searchlights
with which every modern vessel is
provided, and the maintenance of per-
fect discipline in all circumstances,
should deprive the torpedo and the tor-
pedo boat of some of their terrors.
Nevertheless, the menace must always
be a very serious one indeed.
It may be worth while to add that
the Japanese are understood to be in
possession of a few automobile torpe-
does of altogether exceptional size—
having a diameter that is of as much
as 24 inches, or six inches more than
the biggest service torpedo of other
nations. Whether any of these were
with the fleet off Port Arthur is, how-
ever, doubtful.
It will also be useful to add that at
the opening of hostilities Russia may
have had about 20 destroyers and 12 or
15 serviceable seagoing torpedo boats
at or near the scene of action. At the
same period Japan had at her disposal
not fewer than 20 destroyers and 60
torpedo boats of various classes, all fit
for work. Some of these can scarcely
fail to play an important part later
in the campaign.
test
BRAIN REST.
kept
Medical Disquisition cn the Curative
Properties of Prolorged Sleeps
As long ago as 1883 Dr. J. Leonard
Corning of New York brought Ee
this plan of managing functional nerv-
ous disorders in a monograph entitled
“Brain Rest, a Disquisition on the
Curative Properties of Prolonged
Sleep,” and in a subsequent edition,
published in 1885, the whole matter
of practical management was elaborat-
ed to the last detail, says the Medical
Record. Dr. Corning observes that
“as applied to the brain, rest implies
something totally different from that
which is described by the term when
used in connection with the muscle,
joint or spinal cord. This radical dif-
ference is chiefly owing to the fact
that the brain being an organ, of the
intellectual processes, rest in so far
as it concerns that organ, means noth-
ing less than a cessation of mentali-
zation, with all thereby implied. It is
impossible by a mere fiat of the will
to cause cessation of thought; the
very idea embedies a contradiction,
for the will as physiologically under-
stood is itself a product of very com-
plicated intellection, and cannot, there-
fore, be regarded as a thing sui gen-
eris—a something without the pale
of other psychical processes.” Only
during sleep is the ideal repose of
the cerebral faculties realized. But
while a physiological amount of sleep
is sufficient to achieve this in health,
the period of unconscious repose must
be greatly augmented when by over-
taxation or inordinate mental strain
the nerve ceil has become devitalized,
and is no longer able to hoard up a
sufficient store of energy during the
usual period of unconsciousness. It
is in such cases that prolonged sleep,
a sleep continued for 10, 15; or even
20 hours at a time, achieves the most
striking results.
“As a rule,” observes Dr. Cerning
“1 am in the habit of secluding the
subject in a darkened room, eventual-
ly for from 10 to 15 hours at a time,
according to the amount of sleep it
is desired shouid be had during the
24 hours. I do not, however, attempt
great things in the way of sleep at
first; but, on the contrary, the dura-
tion of the period of unconsciousness
is progressively increased by the
utilization or habit, hydrotherapy, ap-
propriate feed, and, in urgent cases,
medepate medication.” In extreme
cases the period of sleep is prclonged
te as much as 20 hours at a time, the
patient being awakened and given
small quantities of nourishment and
then allowed to sleep again. He
warns, moreover, against the evils ac-
cruing from artempts to keep in bed
nervous, irritable persens while in a
condition. Such individuals
told to lie down oniy on
drowsiness, which
may be brought
be
in intractable cascs,
during the latter part of the day, and
exceptionally by the exhibiticn of hyp-
notics before retiring. Recumbency,
then, is purely incidental, the prolong-
is ¢gll. In thus
strenuously insisting on the radical
difference between cerebral and or-
| dinary ccrporeal rest, Dr. Cerning has
rendered a substantial and practical
| service.
on one side but £25,000 worth of ma-
be |
t
Living for Ideals.
That was a wise cold ciler
urged his brethren not to admit young
men to the ministry unless they were
evidently mere bread minded ard en-
thusiastic in their faith than their el-
ders. “We must allow,” he said, “for
tke inevitable shrinkage.” The same
allowance is necessary in every life for
the sure closing in of the real upon
the ideals of youth, the unaveid-
able narrowing of hors and aim that
must come with middle age. The
more idealism we start with, the more
certain to receive, the more joyous life
will turn out to be as we go on living.
The dreariness of the middle-aged
view of life springs largely from the
fact that its ideals are so shrunken as
to be no longer a source of vitality,
of renewal. long as we believe
, and in love, and in friendship,
and in heroism, and in other ideal pos-
sibilities, life is worth living, and we
> strong to take our part in Liv-
yman who
and
As
ing for i 5 is happy and cou eous
living. ng without them is “tae
dull gray life and apathetic end.”—
Harper's Bazar.
Demoralization in the Army and Navy
of the Sultan.
It is said that the Turkish soldiery
is becoming demoralized to the point
where displays of cowardice are com-
mon, says the Chicago News. Some
extraordinary instances of this are re-
lated by a recent traveller there, who
declares that the Turkish troops have
displayed their lack of nerve many
times in recent encounters with insur-
gents. When actual fighting is to be
done many of the soldiers seek seclu-
sion in adjacent fields or escape the
observation of their commanders by
getting into streams and pcnds and
immersing themselves in water up to
the neck. It was near Uskub that a
resort to this method of avoiding
trouble was actually observed. An
engineer corps had been summened
hastily to the nearest bridge over the
Vardar, where bombs had just been
thrown, and found the guard especial-
ly placed there to protect the bridge
conspicucusly absent. It tock the of-
ficers a considerable time to find what
had become of their missing men.
Apparently the demoralization of
Turkey’s fighting forces extends also
to its naval vesels. There is a guard-
ship at Salonika, a fairly modern look-
ing small cruiser, lying year in, year
out, peacefully at anchor in the bay.
One day an order came to the com-
mander to take a cruise, and the con-
sternation of that gallant officer was
great, because no screw steamer can
move without a shaft, and that had
been sold some time ago. But he was
ed | TURKS LOSING NERVE.
w | my
made of wood, praying that it would
break within the first few minutes.
The wooden shaft held by some mira-
cle, and as the cruiser slowly steamed
out of the gulf the captain’s heart
sunk, for he had no desire to go to
sea with a shaft that must break
sooner or later. So he sent belcw and
had the shaft sawn half way through.
A little extra steam and the desired
result was accomplished, and the
guardship was towed back ‘‘disabled.”
Some of the Albanians whose insur-
rectionary operations have been an
occasion for concern both to Turkey
and to the powers which are trying to
compel reform in that region are cu-
riously ignorant as to the conditions
in the outer world. A writer who vis-
ited an Albanian monastery says:
“The fact that I write impressed these
worthy friars greatly, and Padre
Gloacchino, politician as are all Alba-
nians, made a wonderful suggestion.
‘Write a long article, my son,” ha ex-
claimed enthusiastically. ‘Thou know-
est us and the bravery of my nation.
Suggest an alliance against Europe
that will assuredly destroy the bal-
ance of the powers.’ The alliance
which the padre expected to overturn
the balance of power was to consist
of England, Italy—and Albania.”
Greeks and Romans Used Shorthand.
The existence of stenography
among the Greeks and the Romans is
certain. The shorthand that they used
was a form of writing in which each
word was represented by a special
sign. The letters of the alphabet,
with modifications, connected so as to
admit of great rapidity of execution,
formed the elements of these charac-
ters. They date at least from the first
century before Christ.
In the second century A. D. is found
the term semeiograph (stenographic
character) in the Greek crator, Flavi-
us Philostratus.
Origen of Alexandria (185-254 A. D.)
notes his sermons down in shorthand,
and Socrates, the ecclesiastical histo-
rian of the fourth century, savs that
part of the sermons of St. John Chrys
ostom wes preserved by the same
process. In the first century B. C. a
discourse of Cato Uticensis, according
to Plutarch, was taken down by short-
hand reporters.
| The development of shorthand was
due especially to Marcus Tullius Tiro.
Born in Latium in 103 B. C., Tiro, who
was a slave, was brought up . with
| Cicero, who was some years his jun-
jor. Freed, he became Cicero's sec-
retary, and in this capacity aided him
greatly. In the famous trial of Cati-
line (63 B. C.) the stenographic rapid-
ity of Tiro was at its height.—Chicago
Tribuae.
' How Qil Pipe is Cleaned.
The long pipes that carry crude pe-
troleum from the oil wells to the re.
fineries many miles distant are clean-
ed by an ingenious device. As the oil
flows through these underground con-
duits some of the paraffin in the fuid
incrusts the sides of the pipes, and
proves a serious hindrance to the iree
passage of the oil. The device that is
used to remedy thisevil is a knife
about two feet in length, with a sharp
edge, constructed like the thread of a
screw; indeed, the knife resembles a
huge headless screw. It is, of course,
slightly smaller than the pipe, tarough
which it is to ‘When the thicik-
ness of the crust of paraffin rend
cleansing necessary, this instrument is
inserted in the pipe at the oil fields.
The pressure of the stream of oil hur-
ries along, and scrapes the channel
clean. 1t turns and twists and cleanses
in this manner throughout its whole
journey, and finally drops from the
pipes in the midst of the vast stream
of petroleum that empvties into the re-
ceiving tanks. Its edges are duller
than when it set out on its journey,
but otherwise it is in perfect condition.
It is at cnce shipped back to the oil
wells, where it is sharpened and laid
away until jts services are again
needed.
pass.
ers a
The authorities in ch
telephone service in Japan h
ed to employ only girls,
and night duty, at
changes.
of the
ve decid-
both for day
the various ex-
a man of resources, and had a shaft -
ER
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ness and
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