> “only ‘mohody knows it.
sipped his wine before he continued),
“ “I thought perhaps if I disappeared
My letters will be forwarded from the
another better, I
prised, but——"
a
OBSCURITY.
There's a song for the man who is
lucky and bold,
For the man who
side;
There are cheers for the folk that are
jingling the gold
And are dr ifting : along with the tide.
But the man who is striy ying to get to
the land
And facing the hungry wave’s crest,
We quite ov erlook, for we don’t under-
stand
The fellow that’s doing his best.
has fate on his
But he has his rewards when the story
is done,
Though we
way.
For his own self-etteem is the prize he
has won,
As obscur ely he’s stood in the fray.
And he knows the affection of home
and of friends
And the pleasures of honest-earned
rest;
There are peace and good will, as the
twilight descends,
For the fellow that’s doing his best.
— Washington Sta
smile as he plods on his
haa EN SSC nar diy
{A Change of Heart. 3
4 By Lurana W. Sheldon. )
VYvevvovevev wre
The stage coach—a weekly event—
: Bert Dcmaldson of
. — Fifth avenue, New York, rose
from the mat upon which he had been
lying just under the ramada
ranchhouse, and
attention. The man who had
seated before the coachero
been
half
of the
gave it his undivided |
climbed and half fell to the ground. |
As he began rubbing his cramped limbs
vigorously, Donaldson tapped him cn
the shoulder.
“Well, of all things!” Al Van Alden
made the remark with a tangible in-
flection of incredulity, then he added:
“¥ou here!” and held out his hand cor-
dially.
“Been here a week,” Donaldson
plained as he led the way into
ex-
the
ranchhouse, stopping just inside tho
patio to introduce him tc “Sierra Jim,”
the owner.
Then the two went on to the enclos-
ure between four adobe walls, where a
criada sour visaged, but attentive, sup-
plied them with refreshment.
“I supposed .you knew my where-
abouts;” Donaldson said frankly. “Ev- |
eryone else in New York did. I gave
Doc Turkingtcn a ‘ten spot’ for sug- |
gesting it before the boys one night at |
Be <iub, He weil, too! i
nally, and Doc |
eyed me ith that serious look of hi
‘Better take my advice, Donaldscn,’ he
did it
said solemnly. . Of course, the whole
‘push’ became intere at once and |
demanded explanations. ‘It’s nothing,’ |
I said, ‘only Doc here thinks I am a
sensitive plant, you know.” Doc inter-
rupted, and he did it beautifully! There
wasn’t a tremor as he said with enipha-
sis: ‘Such things should not be ne-
glected. A month in the Sierras would
remove all danger. That settled it. I
was pestered to death, the boys all
warning me to think it over before I
quitted the ranks voluntarily. That's
why I thought you knew. They all
advised me to ‘come, and I am receiv-
ing letters daily
“But what was it all about?” Van Al-
den. got” the question in edgewise.
“Were ycu really ill?”
= Data: bit of it!”
t«“¥¥ad’ yous been ill?”
“Worse! You're my friend, Van. 1
been: jilted.”
m4; yan Alden held out his
“1
“the same tréuble; old man;
“You see” (he
mystericusly she might think I was.
dead ‘and feel remorseful. Then, again,
she might learn through the uncertain-
ty of my whereabouts that she really
did love me, and send me to come back.
club. Williams will not betray me——"
<1 thought of that, too, her sending
for me to come back, I mean,” Donald-
son made the admissicn with a curious
expression in his eyes, “but meanwhile;
old man, I am enjoying it here. There
are two beautiful girls on the place,
sisters, they tell me. Dusky skins—
pomegranate- lips—eyé¢s like sloes——"’
“Hold on—you are drawing on mod-
ern fiction 12
“But I can prove it. These girls are
here—sloe eyes, dusk and ali!”
“Are they—ahem—mulattoes?”’
aldson rcared.
“Not a bit ‘of it! Spanish—and as
pure as you please. They sing divinely
and strum guita nder the ramada.’
“Then I can forgive myself for risk-
ing my life and beauty in that
erous old stage!” Van Alden
plated his uncreased trousers
more complacency than therto.
never saw such a vei 1
Don- |
Dee
obstrep- |
contem- |
with
“You |
old man. It seemed de
over every precipice I 4
when it came to a level a cyclone |
couldn’t budge ot. I never pitied any-
|
1
thing so much in my life as I did our | m
|
|
‘leader.’ The noble brute wa
wards half of the way or else stood
still through sheer consternat! on at
that old go-cart’s antic
“It is strange we should be fellow
sufferers,” Donaldson spcke musingly.
“I always thought you were so suc-
cessful with women. When Miss
when my adored one informed me that
she.admired me exceedingly, but loved
not much sur-
lked back-
a
was
|
“And when the angel of my dreams |
assured me that she did not know her |
own heart and begged to be released in |
order to ccme to an understanding with |
herself,” {
spoke, |
in my life.
chap—for, of course, there was one—— |
women never
quote an adage,
of another.’ ” |
Van Alden s
never
miled sadly as he
more surprised
I'd like to meet the other
“l was
‘let go of one rope,’ to |
‘withoui taving hold
| are inferior both to the
| if both are willin’ and so signify to
| took
“Or others,” Donaldson made a Br
ace as he spoke, then he added, “bu
Miss I
was honest, she acknowledged another
attachment.”
“Are these—these Spanish ladies
‘heart whole and fancy free? ” Van Al
den asked the question with his glance
upon two vaquerous who had just en-
tered the enclosure. “I've forgotten
how to shoct,” he added, more soft-
ly, “and the gentlemanly pastime of
boxing is not popular here, I fancy.”
Donaldson glanced at the vicious
looking revolver in one of the punch-
er's belts and answered, laughingly:
“lI will break Lurline's heart, while
with Miss Stuyvesant 2
“Miss Stuyvenant!”
“Yes; Diane Stuyvesant; hadn't you
guessed it?”
“No.” Van Alden bit his lips as
Donaldson began fumbling in his pcck-
et. “So it was Diane?”
He « waited breathlessly until the
other produced a letter.
“She has found it dull, I fancy;
wants to reopen the game, possibly
with a new player or two. Read that
—no, hold on—T’ll read it to you!”
“Don’t bother.” Van Alden spoke
frigidly. Then he warmed up a little
as he added:
“I like this place, don’t you, old
man? I think I' shall build a hacienda
and—practise shooting with you, if you
will let me.”—New York Globe.
FCLO AT MANILA.
Game Ponular Among the Army
Officers.
A great many unpleasant things
may truthfully be said about the Ma-
nila climate, but from the middle o
November until the rains set in again
the following June or July the sunset
hour is usually an agreeable one for
exercise. Early in December, 1902, a
little group of army officers seized up-
on this fragment of cool daylight, and
also unon a portion of the old Camp
Wallace site, next the Luneta, and be-
gan playing polo. By the middle of
January the field was in such condi-
tion that it could be played upon with
a degree of pleasure. Froin six to
eight men usually turned out for the
game every afternoon.
Filipino ponies offered the most
vailable, mounts. During the war
many officers rode them in the field
and practically everybody stationed in
Manila keeps from one to four as har-
ness horses. On the polo field they
Australian
pony and to China ponies of a good
, but they are much cheaper than
and they are hardy, intelligent
or EAI of providing good sport.
The Filipino horse is probably a
cousin of the mustang, both being de-
scendants of the Barb stock brought
to Mexico and the Philippines by the
Spaniards. Like the mustang, he has
excellent legs and feet, great endur-
ance at slow work (without other food
than grass), and a somewhat uncer-
tain disposition. Twelve hands is
perhaps the average height, with thir-
teen 2s the miximum. Thirteen-hand
ponies are rare. Nearly all horses
used for saddle or harness purposes
are stallions.
As to the play, it promised in Janu-
ary to be very creditable, considering
the fact that nearly all the players
were beginners. General Allen, for-
merly Captain Allen of the Second
cavalry post at Angeles. At Manila
and well mounted ought to be a five
or. six goal man. He has been the
father of the game in the islands, and
the beginning which has been made is
largely due to his energy and sports-
manship. Captain Hains is the only
other player wino had played at home.
As conditions in the island become
more settled, it is probable that polo
will become widespread. Already the
marine officers across the bay at Ca-
vite have begun to play, and there is
the nucleus of another club at the
cavalry post at Nngeles. At Manila
the game seems bound to flourish.
There is a long rainless season, a tol-
erable field beautifully situated next
the Luneta overlooking the bay, an
abundance of ponies and for as long a
time as anv man can foresee the as-
sured presence of a large force of
troops whose officers must find sport
and exercise.—David Gray in Outing.
0
Had to Marry.
It is usually considered that the dif-
ficult problem in getting married is in
finding some one to have you, but in
Farmington, Me, it is different. There,
the town clerk, it does not settle the
atter, as proved in two different in-
ices recently. In one case the
cctmen of the town interfered; in
econd instance, where the would-
bride had been a widow just 14
lays, a written -notice was filed with
town clerk, worded as follows:
> Louis Voter, town clerk, we here-
le the folowing caution with you
Oo issue ac ificate to -—— and
, for this reagen that Mrs.
husband has just nassed away
10ther feels
having place at
pre iX names.—Ken-
nebec
How Britons Do It.
A gentleman traveling under the
seat cn the Great Eastern Railway
had the bad lu to be in
the same
carriage as a ticket collector. Nor
did his bad luck end there. He
could not resist giving vent to a
ighty sneeze, and, coming from no
e knew where, his fellow travelers
e almost fr tened out of their
wits. Result—case before the beak.
This reminds us of a journey we once
from Doncaster. As the train
was moving out of the station a man
sprang into the carriage. Taking a
hasty look around, he said: “Gentle.
men, I rely upon your honor,” and
forthwith dived under the seat.—
‘CANAL A GIGANTIC TASK
mean my ex- Th eomvey OF WORK TO BE DONE
IN PANAMA.
Views of Dr. C. A. Stephens, Who Has
Recently Made a Trip of Observa-
tion to the Isthmus.—The Culebra
Cut the Biggest Work of the Kind
Ever Undertaken.
Dr. C. A. Stephens, who has been
well known for a generation as a
writer of stories of adventure for boys,
has, recently visited Panama, where he
nas had excellent opportunities for ob-
serving the great project the nation
nas undertaken there, writes
York Post.
bility of a tide-level canal at Panama.
Of this Dr. Stephens says: It is not
an easy matter to estimate the exact
amount of earth which would have to
be removed to get a clear channel
across the Isthmus, 35 feet below tide
at Colon and at La Boca on the Bay of
Panama. But computing it at the va-
rious levels, step by step up to the
Culebra, through this vast cut and be-
beyond, deducing what the French ap-
filling it to a depth of 35 feet.
pear to have done, we obtain 446,000,-
000 cubic yards, as a very conserva-
tive estimate of what remains to be
removed in order to have an open
ditch from ocean to ocean, 150 feet
wide at the bottom with 35 feet of
standing water in it. As to the length
of time required, we have to guide us
only what the new French company
have done. It is agreed on all hands,
however, that they have worked with
a fair degree of intelligence and with
honesty.
“During their most successful year,
1897, the new company employed 3600
men and removed, mainly in the Cule-
bra cut, 960,000 cubic metres, chiefly
earth. This was by far the best ever
done by the French. Adding 40 per-
cent to this 960,000 metres, for better
American methods and better ma-
chines, and assuming that the United
States will employ. 20,000 laborers in
place of 3600, we find that to remove
the 341,600,000 cubic metres forty-six
years and nine days will be required,
or until 1951. By employing 30,000 la-
borers the work might be done in
about thirty-one years. More than
30,000 men could not be advantageous-
ly worked there. . At best therefore,
allowing nothing for contingencies or
accidents, a tide-water canal at Pana-
ma could not be completed before
1936—so that few of the present gen-
eration would see it.
Immense Cost of Tidewater Canal.
“As to the cost of a tidewater canal
at Panama, reckoning laborers’ wages
at only a dollar a day, and the salaries
of engineers, foremen, etc., at equally
reasonable rates; adding present cost,
figures for machinery, tools, explo-
sives, transportation, hospital equip-
ment and maintenance, with the thou-
sand other minor expenses, and to this
the interest on the money as used for
thirty years, at 3 percent; I am un-
able to find the amount called for to
construct a tidewater canal at less
than $570,000,000, or, adding the price
of the canal from the French company,
$610 000,000.”
Magnitude of the Project.
Dr. Stephens in other ways makes
more distinct than do the formal re-
ports the size of the project in which
we are already committed. The Cule-
bra cut he describes as the greatest
thing of its kind" ever undertaken by
man. When complete it will be three-
fifths of a mile wide at the top, falling
off to a width of 150 feet at the bot-
tom, into which the great lake made
by the dam at Bohio will flow back,
From
the top of the Culebra on the north
side of the cut the depth will be near-
ly or quite 400 feet.
These figures, he says, conver little
idea of the tremendous quantity of
earth and rock which must be re-
moved. It is not until one descends
into this vast trench and marks how
tiny the locomotives and great steam
excavators look when seen in the pro-
digious depth and breadth of the ex-
cavation that a conception of the her-
culean labor dawns on the mind. It
is like Niagara, and must be contem-
plated for awhile. At first sight it
might be thought that a thousand men,
operating 90 or 100 of these steam ex-
cavators, would dig it out in a year:
but by the time the visitor has walked
and climbed about the cut for an hour
or two, he can readily believe that the
task may occupy 5000 men, with fha-
chines, for ten years.
The temperature in the cut he de-
scribes as intense. The lofty, bare
sides of the excavation accumulate
heat like the walls of an oven. The
seething steam boilers zdd to the cal-
orific glow. It makes the eyeballs
ache and the lungs feel dry and hot.
“It is no place,” says Dr. Stephens,
“for a white man’s unprotected head.
A cork hemlet, or a green umbrella,
or both, are necessary to his safety.
It makes me shudder to think of the
human suffering implied by ten years
of labor here on the part of 5000 men.
But only at the price of all this toil
can stately vessels. steam thros=gh the
Culebra.”
The French Canal company has re-
moved rauch earth here, but vastly
more remains to be taken out. With
arc lights strung along the cutting,
the men of the night shift would have
by far the easier day's work; for then
the terrible sun rays would be absent,
and the cooler night wind would be
blowing through the trench. Indeed,
if but one shift of men were e mployed,
he thinks it would be better, after the
light plant was installed, to work them
only by night and have them sleep in
day time.
The Sanitary Problerr.
Sporting Times.
His account of the sani tary problem
the |
Washington correspondent ‘of the New
Americans speak glibly of the posh]
is even more impressive: “The French
exercised little or no sanitary control
over their canal laborers. They built
little villages of wood and galvanized .
iron for the men to live in, but in most
cases provided neither water nor
drains. If they fell ill in camp and
did not die at once, they were trans-
ported after a day or two to the hos-
pitals at Colon or Panama. That was
about as far as the French medical
care or ‘control extended from 1880 on-
ward. As a result they lost a great
number of employees—some say 50,
000. The construction gangs were of-
ten crippled and ineffective. Excava-
tors, locomotives and other machines
stood idle for weeks, because the men
or the foremen were ill or dead. The
losses of time, and money from this
cause were enormous. Work was
stopped from time to time, and often
did not begin again for a month, pay
being drawn all the while for the en-
tire: gang. The direct loss from this
cause alone is believed to have ex-
ceeded seventy million francs. The
indirect loss from delay and demoral-
ization can never be determined.
“The French Canal company. is now
paying its laborers $1.08 a ‘day, Colom-
bian silver, worth about 44 cents in
United States currency.”
Dr. Stephens says that it is an error
to speak of any locality as in itself
‘“unheaithful.” If disease is present it
has been brought there by men or ani-
mals which have become infected else:
where. No locality breeds new disease.
He wants the government to establish
a School of Tropical Diseases at Co-
lon. The greatest variety of clinical
material would be abundant. Canal
laborers arriving from various points in
the tropics will afford excellent mate-
rial for study, with the added advan-
tages of observing the course of the
diseases in a tropical climate.
Dr. Stephens also favors a camp of
detention and observation for incom-
ing laborers. In no other way can dis-
ease be prevented from gaining access
to the labor camps along the line of
the canal. Nor when forwarded from
the camp of observation to the labor
camps should the executive guardian:
ship over the laborer cease or be relax
ed for a moment. A single hole in
one’s mosquito net lets in the mos-
-quito that -will inoculate him with yel-
low fever or malaria; so with a sys
tem of health protection for 20,000 la-
borers.” At a single weak point of the
system an epidemic may enter; the
system must be precise, efficient at all
points and constantly operative. If
the best economic results are to be ob:
tained, the labor camps must be en
closed, policed and regulated as if un-
der military discipline. He thinks it
would be found expedient to have a
canteen at.every camp,
THE MUSIC CURE.
Papa Had No Headache After Plenty
of “Bedelia.”
An interesting exneriment was. re
cently conducted in an untown apart-
ment house by a young woman with
a taste for scientific research. She
had heard of the so-called “music
cure,” as tried in Boston, ard she de
termined to investigate it. A few af
ternoons ago her father, an exemplary
citizen in every way, came home with
a violent headache. The young wom-
an versuaded him to recline in an
easy chair and placed his mind in a
quiescent state. Then she went
around into the next suite of apart:
ments and persuaded her dearest
friend, a young woman with some
knowledge of the piano, to play that
instrument close to the partition that
divided the two suites. The young
woman said she'd play until her friend
rapped on the wall and asked her to
stop. Whereupon she commenced
with “Bedelia,” while the other young
woman with watch in hand stood close
to the sitting room door and watched
thé result. Not only did she watch it,
but she took notes of it as follows:
“Four twenty-five. Pana is softly
groaning in his chair. His head must
hurt him dreadfully. There, I hear
Laura playing ‘Bedelia.’ Papa hears it,
too. He is looking around.
“Four twenty-eight. Papa has lift
ed his head a little. ‘Bedelia’ still
goes on. Papa is frowning and biting
his lips. There, he is staring at the
wall behind which Laura is busy. 1
think he begins to feel the influence.
Yes, it is contracting his muscles. He
is shaking his fist. His lips move. He
is saying things.
“Four thirty-two.
from hid chair.
Papa has slipped
His eves are gleam-
ing, his fists are clenched. ‘Bedelia’
still goes on.
“Four thirty-five. Papa is" saying
things at the wall. I'm afraid Laura
will hear some of them. She is play
ing much louder. It is stil} ‘Bedelia.’
Papa is getting red in the face. He is
tearing Ris hair. I wish he wouldn't
do that. He hasn’t any to snare.
“Four thirty-seven. Papa has tipped
over the chair and is hooving around
like a, demented. Pawnee. And, oh,
the language he uses is something aw:
ful! Bang! I think Lavra has just
fallen off the music stool. Anyway,
‘Bedelia’ has ceased.
“When I rushed, a moment later,
papa had fallen back on the couch and
was gasping feebly. ‘Papa,’ I cried
‘how’s. the headache? He made an
unrepeatable remark about the head:
ache that at once assured me he was
cured.
“And it was the music that cured
him!”"—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
The First Essential.
Betty—So Maud is engaged? * Well,
I'm sorry for the man. She doesn’t
know the first thing about keeping
house.
Bessie—QOh, yes, she does.
Betty—I'd like to know what?
Bessie—The first thing is to get a
man to keep house for.—Harper’'s Ba.
Zar.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
There is a miracle wherever the
divine touches the human.
The Bible is not such a bad-look-
ing battle wreck, after all.
Your business will never
others until it absorbs you.
Temptation wastes no time with the
man who has ceased to pray.
A religious flving machine
much different from any other.
If God is no more than a hypothesis
He cannot be much help to us.
A man’s spirit does not always grow
holier as his salary grows heavier.
It is easy for a man who hasn't
an introduction to religion to sneer
at it.
You cannot expect better manners
from your children than you give
them.
After all, it is the man at the lit-
tle end of the horn who makes the
music.
Love is the prize most worth gain-
ing, most easily gained and most oft-
en lost.
interest
is not
TROUBLES OF THE HERMIT CRAB.
Having No Shell of Its Own, It Must
Hunt Around and Fight for One.
The most disconsolate fellow that
walks the beach is the hermit-crab,
whose shell has become too snug for
comfort, says Country Life in Ameri-
ca. If it were his own, as the clam’s
is, it would grow with his growth, and
always be a perfect fit; but to the
hermit there comes often a “moving
day,” when a new house must be
sought. Discouraging work it is, too.
Most of the doors at which he knocks
are slammed in his face, A tweak
from a larger pincer than his own will
often satisfy him that the shell he
considers ‘distinctly possible,” and
hopefully ventures to explore, is al-
ready occupied by a near but coldly
unsympathetic relative.
Finding no empty shell of suitable
size, the hermit may be driven to ask
a brother hermit to vacate in his fa-
vor. The proposition is spurned in-
dignantly, and a fight ensues. The
battle is to the stronger.
attacking party has considerable
trouble 1 cleaning out the shell, hav-
ing to pick his adversary out in bits.
A periwinkle or a whelk may be at-
tacked in a like manner by a hermit
who is hard pnressed and has taken a
fancy to that particular shell. If the
householder be feeble, the conquest is
easy. If lusty. he holds the fort.
At last the sedrch is over.
shell is cleaned and ready.
“Yes, this will do! But how my
back does ache! I mustr’t delay a
minute! Is anybody looking? Here
goes, then; and may I never have to
move again!”
In the twinkling of an eye, the cau:
dal hooks let go their hold deep in the
spiral of the cld shell, and have safe-
ly anchored the weak and flaccid
body to the inner convolutions of the
new one. .
It is all over; ar empty shell lies
on the sand. and a larger one is near
it with a sleepy-looking hermiterab in
it. Poke him, and he leans languidily
out over his pearly balcony, as if to
say, “If this deadly fnonotony is not
broken soon, I shall die!”
But, behind this “society mask,” the
cramped muscles are stretching out
and adjusting themselves in absolute
contentment to the roomy. spaces of-
{ered them.
The
The Coffee Inehriate.
America has develoned a class of
men and women that physicians group
iinder the name of “coffee inebri-
ates.” A coffee inebriate is, speaking
broadly, one who consumes a pound or
more of coffee a week.
A pound makes about seven quarts
of coffee;; seven quarts make 28 cups,
and 28 cups a week make four cups a
jay. They, therefore, who drink four
cups of coffee daily had better look
out, for if ther have developed as yet
20 symptoms of coffee incbriety, it is
likely that they will develop them be-
{ore long.
One of the symptoms of this disor-
fer is an inability to do without cof-
lee. If, some morning, you should
forego the beverage at breakfast, and
in consequence be
headache, you are a coffee inebriate.
Other symptoms are a sallow color,
cold hands. a heart that beats irregu-
larly, and melancholy. The cold
hands, the irregular heart and the ner-
vous melancholia or depression pass
off when a strong cup of coffee is tak-
en, but in an hour or two they return.
Americans are the most ¢xcessive
coffee drinkers in the world. Cver a
billion’ pounds of coffee is imported
into the United States each year.
America is the only country where
coffee inebriety is recognized as a dis-
tase, This disease, taken in time,
yields readily to treatment. But the
trouble with it is that, being seldom
taken in time, it is apt to lead to alco-
nolism or morphinism.—New York
Evening Telegram.
Ingenious Postscript.
This may be an old one, but Rep-
resentative Charles N. Fowler of New
Jersey, who seldom jokes, told it the
other night and caused a lot of laugh-
ter. He said that one of his con-
stituents, a farmer, sat down ‘Trecent-
ly and wrote a letter asking for sev-
eral different kinds of garden seeds.
$etore the letter was posted the farm-
er was called to the barn, and in turn-
ing over an old chest full of books
and parcels came &cross several
packages of seeds from last year,
which had not been used. He re-
turned to the house and, taking the
unsigned letter added this postscript:
“P. S.—Never mind sending the
seeds, I find I have enough.”
After which the letter was mailed,
Often the
attacked with |
LA SOUFRIERE’S RUIN.
Processes of Nature Reassert Theme
selves on St. Vincent's Isle.
How far the ordinary processes of
nature have begun to reassert thems
selves since the conclusion of the vol-
canic disturbances was the subject of
Investigation on a tour of St. Vine
cent’s. The first thing that one no-
tices is the remarkable luxuriance of
the green growth of vegetation of all
kinds, says the London Times. It is
true that a vast quantity of unassimi.
lated glassy ash is visible everywhere,
painful to the eve and burning to the
feet—very different from : the cool,
restful, dull blackness of the soil that
I remember two or three years ago.
But wherever the ash has mixed well
lo the soil it seems to have had some
fertilizing effect, notwithstanding the
assertions of the analysis.
But the havoc which has been
wrought among the smaller life of in-
sects and birds is deplorable. I saw
no lizards in the grasses, only the
scantiest show of fireflies at dusk, far
fewer butterflies and far fewer hum-
ming birds. All the high ridges of
the mountains are denuded of the tall
forest trees and palms which used to
clothe their summits. This is. of
course, due to the hurricane of 1896;
previously one rarely saw the bare
outline of an escarpment silhouetted
against the brilliant sky; wrinkled
waves of foliage alone marked the
configuration; but now the presence
of a large tree is the excention, and
even then it shows signs of ruthless
storm tear. It was pleasanter tn ride
through the new settlements provided
for the Caribs and other refugees, suf-
ferers alike from the hurricane and
from the volcanic eruptions. The wis
dom of the executive in removing the
dwellers in the extreme north of the
Island ard finding them homes out-
side what was then a dangerous local«
ity was fully justified by after events,
although a considerable amount of
sore feeling and dissatisfaction was
created at the time. But. like many
of the sufferers from the storm in
Barbadoes, the deported families are
now better housed than ever before
In their lives. The new villages with
their neat cabins and plots of land,
decorate the fertile slopes and add un-
doubted picturesqueness to the
ward side of the island.
But what of La Soufriere herself?
Her last utterance was in March, 1903,
and there is every sign that she is
composing herself for another long
slumber—how long or how short no
man can say. Still, the lake in the
bosom of the crater is once again fill-
ing, and this is considered to be a
token and promise of good behavior.
The ascent of La Soufriere can no
longer be made by the old route from
Chateau Belair; one is obliged to go
further north, to Wallibou, and thence
begin the long climb of. nearly 4000
feet. The scene from the summit re«
minds one, in its gloom and desola-
tion of the Cities of the Plain. Not a
bird, not an insect, not a tree—save a
few charred stumps—can be seen. A
black wall of pitchlike looking cliff
confronts one where all used to be
verdure ard thick serub, and through
the broken rocks a glimpse of the
smaller and unused crater now ap-<
pears, the old knife edge partition
which formerly divided the two crate.
‘ers having been partially destroyed in
the violent paroxysm of the last erup«
tions. On the slopes lower down
chimneys, cattle pens, boiling houses
and negro cabins can he discerned
sticking an odd store or rater or
trash roof through the mud where it
has been scoured away by the torren-
tial rains.
And yet, amid all this destruction
and desolation there are the begin.
nings of a fresh era to be welcomed.
Already on the lowest sands there is
~a profusion of silver ferns (no gold
ones, as I had hoped and not unrea-
sonably expected), guinea grass, sweet
potatoes and cassava are. springing,
self-sown, on the ridges -up to 1000
feet. Given five vears of undisturbed
natural processes, I see no reason why
the north of the island should not
once again be as cultivatable, fertile
and habitable as it was in the half
century preceding the eruptions of
1802-3.
Sued a President.
Pawnee county claims to be the res.
idence of the only living man who
sued a president of the United States,
His rame is G. S. Van Eman and he
lives at Jennings. Van used to run a
sheep ranch up in Lyon county, Kan-
sas, and was getting along all right un-
til Grover Cleveland was elected pres
ident, and the ediét went forth that
wool was ‘to be put on the free list
Van had about consummated a sale,
but ciaims the fear of tariff changes
forced the price of sheep down several
points. Furthermore, his regard for
his sheep and country was so high that
he was ashamed to look a sheep in the
face under tie conditions that Clever
land forced upon them, =o during the
reign of Grover he made a practice of
beginning at the rear end of a sheep te
shear it. This greatly humiliated him
and caused him to lose prestige with
his hired hands and merinos.
Feeling intensely aggreived and ma-
terially damaged, he sued Grover
Cleveland, president of the United
States, getting service by publication,
and obtained a judgment for $400. Of
course, it was never collected, for
Grover never got-in reach of an exe
cution. But Van claims he felt better
though the debt remains unpaid. —
Kansas City Journal.
Reason of the Advice.
“A successful man,” said Uncle
Eben,” ginerally advises young men to
go into some. other line o’ business.
Dat’s ’cause he hones’ly believes dat
no one kin show as much smahtness
as he did: in gittin’ over difficulties
But he’s wrong.”—Washington Star.
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