ICHABOD.
Alas, for the lofty dreaming,
The longed-for high emprise,
For the man whose outer seeming
His inner self belies!
i Jooked on the life before me
With purpose high and true,
When the passions of youth surged o'er
me
And the world was strange and new.
Where the hero-soul rejoices
I would play the hero’s part;
My ears were attuned to the voices
hat speak to the poet's heart.
I would conquer a place in story
ith a soul unsmirched by sin;
My-head should be crowned with glory,
y heart be pure within.
But the hour that should have crowned
me
Cast all high hope adown,
And the time of trial found me
A sinner, coward, clown.
Ah! which was the falre or the real
(If the Powers above would speak!)
The Saint with his hign ideal,
The sinner whose iesh was weak.
The hero who yearned for Duty,
The coward whose sinews failed,
The poet who worshiped Beauty,
Or the clown whose utterance failed?
—Wiiliam S. Walsh, in Harper's Mag-
azine.
ee
.
Aossssssssssan
§ Sc Dee Man }
4 Ey Mary Grace Ha'pine. 3
«There's Deacon Slocum comin’
down the hill! I shouldn’t wonder if
he was goin’ tew stop. He looked at
me dretful pertic’ler last
evenin’ as we was comin’ out.
was ‘goin’ tew ask fur my cump'ny
hum, but before he could git his cur-
ridge up, that bold, brassy piece, Pru-
dence Packer, come sailin’ down the
aisle, an’ tuck him off with her!
“1f 1 was Prue Packer 1 wouldn't let
the hull town know it, if I was in such
a hurry, to git married! Lawful suz!
there he is at the gate! ’Liza Jane,
hand me a clean neckercher out of the
under draw. Not that one, that white
cambric, with the tucked border. Is
my cap straight? I'm all of a tremble.
What shall 1 dew if he makes me a
propersition? There aint no use
stending out ag’in him; the deacon is
sech a determined man. Hew dew
you dew, Deacon Slocum?
cheer by the fire, dew. 1 declare if it
ain’t real kind an’ naburly in you to
come in to cheer a lone widder. ‘Liza
Jane, go down suller an’ bring up some
apples an’ cider. Git some of them
big, red ones in the bin by the winder
that your father was so fond of.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, widder. I
only come—"
“>Tain’t no trouble, deacon, not a
mite. ’Liza Jane, bring up a plate of
them doughnuts that I fried this
mornin’. My poor dead and gone hus-
band used to say that I was a master
hand tew make doughnuts. An’ he
was a master hand to eat ‘em,
tew. He'd eat a peck a day if
he had ’em, I dew believe. An’ 1
gen’ly contrived tew have them on
hand, fur I believe in married pard-
ners tryin’ tew please one another if
’tain’t an onpossible thing. There's
Mrs. Packer—it’s my solemn belief
that she worried her husband intew
the grave by her contineral frettin’
and scoldin’. And sech a housekeep-
er! I don’t s’'pose the poor man
knowed what it was to have a decent
meal fur years afore he died without
‘twas at one of the nabors. An’ they
do say that 'Prue is her mother clear
over again. I pity anybody that gits
her fur a wife!”
“You surprise me, widder. I thought
Miss Prudence would be a desirable
companion fur most any man. Not
that I’d any idee myself—"
“Of course you ain’t.- I see her per-
formance last Sabba’ day evenin’, and’
go did some other folks I could mention. |
I knowed you was tew good a man tew
be coaxed intew marryin’ one woman,
when you had made up your mind tew
have ancther.” ‘
“Waal, I dunno, widder.
idee—" :
“I knowed you ain’t, deacon; you've
got tew much sense. I know what
your idee is, tew, jest as well as if
you told it. ’Liza Jane, bring some of
that cheese. that was cut yisterday.
There ain’t nothing that goes so well
with doughnuts.as cheese. Now, dea-
con, dew take held an’ eat suthin’,
dew.” .
“Thank you, widder. They are very
nice—as nice as any I ever tasted.
But, as I was goin’ tew say—"
“Gener’ly speakin’, I ain’t ashamed
to set my doughnuts before anybody,
if I dew say.it. But I don’t know how
it was; I didn’t seem tew have sech
good luck as common with these. But
praps you. can worry ’em down with
some of the:cider. Jest try a lettle,
deacon, déw.”
“Thank you, widder; seein’ you're
s0 very pressin’, I will. But as I was
sayin’, our farms jine, an’ I thought
I'd come over an’ sce—"
“Jes so, deacon. 1 feel presactly
as you dew about it. It seems sort ¢’
providential that our farms should
jine, don’t it, now?
“’Liza Jane, you can take some of
them pickles over tew Grandma Per-
kins that I made .yisterday; she’s
amazin’ fond of pickles. You needn’t
hurry back; saw yer gran'ther go by
tew the village with his ox team, an’
mos’ likely he won’t be back till night.
Gran’'ma’s dretful lonesome when he’s
gone, an’ you can jest as well stay
with her a spell as not.
“You see, deacon,” continued the
Widow Perkir soon as the door
closed after ’Liza Jane, br i
chair a little nearer her
don’t count on havin’ my d
me a great while longer.
has been keepin’ steady com’ny with
1 hain’t no
' I'm agreeable if you be.
Sunday |
1 know- |
ed as well as I wanted tew, that he |
Take 2
her for more’n a year, an’ they cal
c¢’late on gettin’ married in the spring.
’Liza Jane's father left her three hun-
dred dollars, or the wuth on’t in lang,
jest which she’d ruther have. Eben
thinks he'd ruther have the ten-acre
lot down by Stillwater pond. An’ I
don’t know but what I'd as soon he
would, but I wouldn't tell him fur sar-
tin till I knew what you thought bout
i” E
“Waal, widder, 1 should say ‘twas
’bout the fair thing, though I don’t
know as it makes any difference tew
me; ’tain’t my land nor my darter.
What I come in tew say was that our
farms jine, an’ that strip of medder
land down by the creek—"
“There ain't no need fur ye tew say
another word, deacon; I know. what
you come in fur jist as well as if it
was writ in black an’ white. An’ I
ain't going tew say nothin’ agin: it,
nuther, fur I know-you air sech a de-
termined man.”
“1 s’pose Sam told ye. I was speak-
in’ tew him bout it the other day.
You see, our farms jine at that pint,
an’ if it be so we kin strike a bar
gain—"’
“Don’t say another word, deacon.
The minute
I see your white horse at the gate, I
sez to ’Liza Jane, ‘’Liza Jane, sez I,
‘Deacon Slocum has come tew make
me a propersition, an” he won't go
away until I promise tew marry him.
An’ though I hain’t never had no idee
of changin’ my siterwation. I might as
well give in fust as last. He is sech
a determined man.’
Deacon Slocum married the Widow
Perkins, and has not had any reason
to repent his bargain. He never could
quite decide, in his own mind, as to
whether he proposed to the widow or
the widow to him. But if we may
credit her version of the story, “she
never would oe married the deacon
if he hadn't been sech a determined
| man." —New York Weekly.
TO SAVE BIG GAME,
Danger of Extinction of Great Anl-
mals of Africa.
Apart from the preseation of the
elephants, buffaloes, etc., in the forests
in the extreme south of the Cape
Colony, between Algoa and Mossel
bays, which date back to the fifties,
but little attention has been paid to
this important subject until quite re-
cently, and that, in spite of the fact
that a few enthusiasts have been
steadily hammering away at it for 30
vears or more. The result has been
that several interesting and attractive
species, like the blue zebra, the true
quagga and the bontebok. have been
entirely exterminated; while some
such as the elephant, black rhinoceros,
giraffe, buffalo, eland, roan antelope,
sable antelope, gemsbok, blue and
black wild beeste. blasbok. harte-
beeste, etc., exist in secluded districts
only as sorry remnants of the great—
in some instances enormous—herds
that used to rcam the country, while
the numbers of the white rhinoceros
left can be counted on the fingers of
the hands.
The original Dutch settlers of Cape
Town were much wiser in their gen-
eration as regards many things than
we Britons of later years. Although
rhinoceri, elands and other large ani-
mals were numerous in the Cape flats,
and often did great damage to the out-
lying farmers and market gardeners,
cnly government officials, and occa-
sionally a favorite burgher, were al-
lowed to kill anv. They were regard-
ed as sources of food supply, and the
government had no desire to see them
exterminated or driven away. Later
governments, Boer or Briton, had no
such provision. But it is only fair to
say that, if they had, they had little
or no power to enforce their wishes.
One more apnrehension, however,
ought te be cleared away. It is not
the Briton who is responsible for the
denudation of° South Africa of its
game. It is the Boer and the native.
There has also been a low class of
British skin, horn and ivory hunters—
anything that would bring in a few
pounds—but, taken as a whole, British
hunters have been mostly sportsmen
ranging from the high standard to the
low one. But the Boer has nevér been
anything else but a mere butcher, and
the rative a demon of destructien.
To preserve what is left of the
grandest fauna any country of the
globe ever possessed is the clear duty
of the government under which South
Africa has fallen. To shirk it would be
nothing less than a crime. Perfunc-
tory measures. such as close seasons,
prohibition of shcoting, excent under
government license and the limitation
of the numbers allowed to be killed,
may be of service in the case of some
animals, as with the sprinkbok, but in
most they are comparatively useless.
Where their operations are most need-
ed they cannot be enforced, and there
is always, and always must be, a ten-
dency to issue licenses to anv “so-
ciety’ peonle or others to shoot at
pleasure. But if precautionary steps
are not taken very soon there will be
nothing at all left to shoot.—South
Africa.
Fatigue and the Retina.
MM. Broca and Sulzer have discov-
ered that the fatigue of tae retina,
caused by blue light, accumulates in
the retina, and takes a relatively long
time to go away, even when the action
of the light has been short. The same
phenomenon exist for red light, but to
an infinitely less degree. In this ob-
servation it may be remarked, we
| have perhaps the secret of the red
| (vermilion) and green (emerald) flash
es observed by some persons when
walking alonside a hedge, through
which the sunlight comes to the eye.
The retinal impression of red may
teave the eye before that of green,
and cause the two flashes.—London
Pall Mall Gazette.
, The Owl and the Larka
Oh, the Owl and the Lark
Went a-sailing after dark,
And they boated and they floated down
the river to the sea; :
On their mandolins they played,
And such merry music made _
That the donkey in the distance fairly
laughed aloud in glee.” -
The tide was ebbing fast, - *
And the boat went drifting pRst; -
The donkey gave a whistle as, he
munched a thistle bloom,
And he said, ‘It's my belier,
They will surely come to grief,
And the motion of the ocean will pre-
cipitate their doom.”
The boat it sped along,
And so merry was their song
That the moon very soon wondered:
what the noise could be;
Peeping over the horizon,
She exclaimed, ‘Well, that's sur-
prisin’!
Do those strangers know the dangers
of this shiny, briny sea?”
Then the boat gave a lurch:
The Lark wabbled on her perch;
She was handlin’ her mandolin, when
overboard it went.
But the Owl said, “Now, my dear,
I will get it, never fear!” !
And with an oar he dashed and
splashed to reach the instrument.
But alas! the boat upset
In the watery waves so wet,
And both the quaking, shaking birds
were dumped into the deep;
The Owl was washed sground,
But the little Lark was drowned,
Which caused the Owl to yowl and howl,
and moved the moon to weep.
—Carolyn Wells, in St. Nicholas.
Elsa’s Doll,
In the fairy days there was a lovely
girl with a face of purest white, save
where the roses dyed her cheeks and
lips, eyes of velvet brown and hair
like yellow spun silk. She had a beau-
tiful home, 50 dolls and many toys,
but she was not content.
“Dolls are stupid, dumb things,”
she exclaimed, fretfully, one day. “I
want real, live fairies to play with.”
fully, but she pushed them from her,
and lay so still pouting and longing
that soon the white lids drooped over
the brown eyes and Elsa knew no
more of the things of earth.
and a murmuring, something between
the drowsy buzz of insects and the
rippling of a stream over a rock bed.
It was very pleasant to hear. 1
wonder what it is,” said Elsa, sitting
up.
To her surprise her 50 dolls were
not where she had left them, but flit-
ting about were creatures that bore
a resemblance to them, although they
were a thousand fold more beautiful,
and each had gauzy wings. It was the
fluttering of these ‘wings that had
awakened Elsa. She was very glad
to be awake, for never had she seen
so enchanting a sight.
“Oh, oh, now I have someone worth
playing with!” she exclaimed, and she
called the dolls endearingly by name.
They paid no attention to her, how-
ever, but continued to amuse them-
selves. Now and then a silvery laugh
would ring out, but what the. merri-
ment was about Elsa could not make
out. Her dolls, which she had treated
s0 contemptuously now left hér en-
tirely out in the cold. r
Elsa sighed. Then she cried. She
could not help it. She had lost her
-dolls—she did not see how she ever
could have thought them stupid, for
they really were the loveliest dolls
ever seen. Never, never, Elsa was
.sure, would she ever have anything
half so dear.
“Why do you shed tears? an old
woman asked her.
“I abused my dolls and neglected
them, and now they have bécome
fairies and have turned their backs
upon me, and I have no one to play
with.”
“Would you like to be a fairy, too?”
“Oh, more than anything else, but
I never can be.”
“Well, let’s see. Now, shut your
eyes.” : .
The old woman shook a silver ball
over Elsa's head and a golden powder
fell all over her.
“Open your eyes,” commanded the
old woman, and Elsa did so, at the
same time realizing that she’ was
floating through the air and that she
shimmered just like the doll fairies.
“I am a fairy,” she tried to say, but
te words came out in a little song.
®e immediately started in pursuit of
the other fairies, and when she over-
took them they gave her a cordial
greeting. They frollicked together in
mad joy, and Elsa was the happiest
fairy of them all.
After a while it thundered and El-
sa started in fright. She was not a
fairy and her dolls were just as plain
dolls as they had always been, but she
hugged and kissed them all around,
and exclaimed: “You are the sweetest
things in the world and I am going to
play with you as long as I live. I
wouldn’t change vou for all the fairies
that ever lived in fairyland.”—Bar-
bara Rowe, in Mirror and Farmer.
Scissors to Grind?
Jessie stood over the kitchen sink
busily washing the breakfast dishes
and sighing as she did so, for it was
monotonous work.
“Oh, dear,” she grumbled, “I just
wish 1 had all my time to myself dur-
Ing vacation the way the ttner girls
do. Dishes are fearfully tiresome!”
Just then a scissors grinder coming
along the street called “Scissors to
ERE ET ET EIS SEs
The 50 dolls looked at her reproach-
After a while she heard a humming:
grind, scissors to grind,” in a very
pleasant voice. Jessie went to the
door as he knocked and said very
politely: “No, thank you, we haven't
any dull scissors today.”
The grinder was a young Italian
boy and he looked so tired and for-
lorn that Jessie stood by the door a
moment, and looked at bim pityingly.
“Are you thirsty?’ she asked, pleas-
antly. “It’s such a hot day, perhaps
you would like a glass of ice water.”
“Tanka,” said the boy; showing his
white teeth as Jessie. handed it to
him. “Vera sorra you.got no scissor
to grind,” continued: he. “Not one
pair dis week. Verra ‘discouraged,’
and he picked up his machine and
started down the -stéps. fio
“Poor thing,” thought the little gir]
to herself. “I'm awfully sorry for
him. I'd give him the money in a
moment if I had -it.” Then the
thought flashed over’ her that she did
have it—a nice new. 10-cent piece up
in her top bureau drawer that Uncle
Frank had given her only the day be
fore. -*“Oh, dear, I simply can’t give
that up. It’s all I have.” Then as she
caught. a glimpse of the ‘poor, down-
hearted ‘Italian boy - walking slowly
down the walk, her sympathy was
aroused and her decision was made.
“Boy,” she called out, “come back a
moment. 1 have a pair after all,”
and charitable little Jessie ran up:
stairs and came down with her moth:
er’'s shears and her ome and only 10-
cent piece. :
The boy had come back, his face
was all smiles as he set to work, and.
in a few moments the shears were
beautifully sharpened.
‘““Good-by,” he called, as he started
down the walk the second time. “You
verra kind lady.”
“Good-by,” answered Jessie, and she
wnet back to her dishes.
About two months after this, every
fence in the village announced the
fact by flaring posters that the circus
was coming ‘to town. This instantly
created wild excitement among all the
children. Everybody but poor Jessie
semed to be going, and sc she tried
not to see the enchanting billboards,
and pretended that lions and tigers
weren't a bit interesting to her. Moth-,
er had said from the first that it would
be impossible for her to spare the
necessary. quarter for admission for
little Harry needed shoes, and baby Jo-
sie’s hat was worn out. But mother
promised that next time it came they
should all go, so Jessie was trying to
lock forward to that, and not think of
what she was missing. It was hard
work, though, and the prospect of
pleasure a year ahead was not much
comfort.
And then finally the circus came!
There was no reascn for Jessie's miss-
ing the parade, anyway; so seizing lit
tle Harry’s hand she started for the
village, and stood in open-mouthed
wonder as the chariots and clowns and
elephants marched grandly and ma
jestically along. And the horses! Jes:
sie had never seen such btautiful
creatures in all her life. ‘Oh, dear!
oh, dear! just to think I can’t see them
perform at all!” she almost sobbed.
Suddenly the procession stopped. A
freight train was slowly pulling into
the station, and the gates went down
and prevented anything passing. This |
pleased Jessie immensely, for she had
all the more time to look at the won-
“derful creatures before her. And whom
do you think she saw standing di
rectly in front of her, leading a tiny
“pet poodle? The little Italian scissors
grinder himself.
“Why, there's my scissors grinder,”
cried Jessie aloud.
At the sound of her voice the boy
turned and instantly recognized his
small friend. “Hullo!” he called, and
then stepped over to where she stood.
“I never forgot you. Do you go circus,
to-day?” a Gi!
“No, said Jessie mournfully; “we are
just watching the parade.”
“Nice to see show,” said the boy.
“Better come. I join a month ago.
Have good luck ever since. Scissor
business no good.”
“That's nice,”. said Jessie. “I wish
I could come; but we c¢-can’t afford it,”
she ended, turning red.
The boy smiled broadly. “I give bac"
your kindness, lady,” he said. “You
and little boy come to circus, ask for
Tony; and I come let vou in free.”
Just then with an extra blast of trum-
pets, the parade started, and Jessie
had only time to gasp out “thank you”
before he was gone.
It seemed just too good to be true.
“To think, mother, I am really going
to the circus after all, and Harry, too!
Oh, I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it
But it was true, and that afternoon,
Jessie and Harry presented themsel-
ves at the wonderful circus tent, and
falteringly asked for Tony. In about
two minutes he came out, and es-
corted the two happiest children in
town to their seats right in front of
the middle ring. I never could pretend
to tell you all the things they saw,”
for it would be impossible, but oh!
they had such a .good time.
“And just to think,” said Jessie that
night at tea, .as they both were trying
to describe the performance at the
same time, “if I hadn't been nice to
that poor little Italian scissors grind-
er, we would never have seen the
circus at all.”
Staniey’s Legacies.
Sir H. M. Stanley left behind him,
according to the British Weekly, not
oniy an immense amount of material
concerning himself, in the form of
diaries and letters, but also docu-
ments of immense historical impor-
tance, which could not properlybepub-
lished during the lives of the persons
most concerned in them. His publish:
ers are said to be in communication
with a well-known English man of
HE STOLE A KINGDOM.
“BOER!KOFF THE THIEF,” FINNS
CALL THE DEAD DICTATOR.
Was Trying to “Russify” Their Coun-
try When Assassinated—Death Pre-
vented Report That Would Have
Brought Down the Czar’s Wrath.
In Finland they called him “Bobri-
koff the Thief;” and now they have
shot the great dictator who, with con-
summate cunning, stole Finland for
the Czar of Russia inch by inch.
And there is good reason in the
Finns’ minds for the shooting of Bob-
rikoff.. The dictator had more sinis-
ter designs on Finland's freedom than
any he had yet practiced, says a writ-
er in the London Express.
By the order of the czar he was to
report before the close of the present
month whether Finland were tractable
or not. The Finns knew what Bobri-
koff would report, and they knew that
his report would be followed by an
active military occupation of their
land.
So they have saved Bobrikoff the
trouble of making his report, and
have given their own answer to the
question in the shape of revolver
shots. !
Strange indeed is th® story of this
theft of a nation and its dramatic out-
come, and I learned it in this way
some few months. ago.
It was one of those days of brilliant
sunshine bathing unsullied snow that
make Helsingfors so beautful in win-
ter time.
From the window of the room in
painted houses of the Finnish capital
rising from the white snow, while
from the shore, for 20 miles, the froz-
en sea lay beneath a carpet of snow
that might have been woven with
countless diamonds, so brightly did
it gleam. :
Overhead the benign sky, unflecked
by a single cloud, was blue as the
summer heaven of Venice, Helsing-
fors, indeed looked for all the world
like some pretty, frosted, cheerful
Christmas card.
Upon the floor two children laughed
as they sprawled about, and between
myself and my companion, a Finnish
woman of gentle birth, a little table
bore a samovar, brewing tea and
singing of good will and peace.
But there was neither good will nor
peace in the face of the woman on the
other side of -the table. “Yes,” she
said, “we Finns call him Bobrikoff the
thief, for little by little he has filched
from us our country and all our
rights.
“God knows my heart is not evil
when I say that till Bobrikeff came
to Finland I did not believe in hell.”
Here skeé looked up at the sky, and
it is untrue to say that blue eyes can
hold no nassion. Hers were steely,
and in them one could see passion
that bitterness had frozen.
“Some day,” she went on, “Bobrikoff
will pass even the limit of our pa-
tience, and then ‘there will arise a
man who—"
She did not finish the sentence, but
I understood, and murmured “Quite
50.”
And now they have shot Bobrikoff.
“If you will come out with me,” my
companion continued, after a little
pause, “I will show you why we suf-
fer.”
So we went out and crossed a snowy
square and came up to a great white
building. As we passed up the steps
a Russian policeman stared at us and
then yawned.
A man unlocked the heavy doors for
us and we went into a white hall,
where even the echoes seemed quite
startled at the unaccustomed scund
cf footsteps.
We came to a big dim room, round
which were ranged in a semi-circle
scores of little gold-legged, gold-
backed chairs.
“This,” said my companion, “is the
Tall of Nobles,” and in this silence
and this emptiness you can read the
tragedy of ‘our land. Year by year
hose little chairs stand waiting for
our nobles to sit cn them and give us
laws and justice. But they will nev-
er sit there again -for Bobrikoff has
dissolved our constitution.
“He rules instead as an autocrat
and by martial law.”
“And what manner of man is this
Bobrikoff 7’ I asked.
“l cannot tell you what he looks
like,” she said, “because the only time
he passed me I turned away my head,
We always turn away our heads when
he goes by. It is all that we can do.
“I believe, however, that in his priv-
ate life he is a kindly man. I am told
it is quite touching to see the love
and trust between him and his pretty
daughter.
“But his private life is nothing to
us. He is here to serve the autocratic
machine, and he serves it well.”
Then in the Hall of Nobles I was
told the tale of the stolen nation.
Up to 1898 Finland, though part of
the czar’s dominions, was autonomous.
It prospered—prospered so greatly
that it became an eyesore to needy
and jealous St. Petersburg. So St.
Petersburg sent down Bobrikoff, and
Bobrikoff swallowed it up.
He took such gentie little mouth-
fuls at first that the Finns scarcely
understood what was happening.
But they understand now, for Bob-
rikoff forzot to summon the represen-
tatives of the Finnish council. Instead
he created a hired senate, and dis-
banded the Finnish army, with the
exception of the guards. Them: he
sent to Poland.
In 1902 he called for a Finnish vol-
letters, with a view to a biography,
but probably much of the matter can
not yet be given to the public.
unteer army to serve in Russi: The
i young men of Finland declined to
serve on those terms, and & horde
of Russian troops was sent down to
Finland. Then the czar ordered that
i Bobrikoff should drag the Finns to
{ she conscription booths should he not
which I sat I could see the white--
be able to report them tractable by
the er d of the present month.
-jeantime. Bobrikoff had /been busy
at the cengerial task of “Russifying”
Finland.
He decrced that Russian must be
taught in all the schools, and one by
one he removed every Finnish official,
down to the postmen and the police.
Russians reigned in their stead.
Thousands of secret agents came
down from St. Petersburg, and lurked
and pried all over the land. Never a
week passed but some Finn of stand-
ing was suddenly missed from home.
You could find them if you'
searched for them in Siberia.
An army of Russian policemen
meets and speeds every train and
every vessel. Under the guise of
peace there is a reign of terror.
At the end of her recital of Fin-
land’s wrongs my Finnish lady threw
out her hands appealingly.
“Could you, as an Englishman,” she
cried, “live under such conditions?
“Every night we lie down and won-
der what there may be in store for us
next. And as we lie and wonder the
answer seems to come to us, for we
can hear the heavy tread of the Rus-
sian police on the frozen street be-
neath our windows.”
As she said this tears were falling
down her face.
And now Bobrikoff has been shols
STATISTICS OF WORKERS.
Nearly Two-Fifths of the Entire Popu:
lation in Gainful Occupations.
A special report of the Census Bus
reau on occupations shows that in the
continental United States the total
number of persons engaged in gainful
occupations in 1900 was 29,073,233,
which was one-half of the population
ten years old and over, and nearly two-
fifths of the entire population. “The
total number comprises 22,489,425 men,
4,833,630 women and 1,750,178 children,
of whom 1,264,411 were boys and 485,
767 girls. Those of foreign birth ag:
gregated 5,851,399, or one-fifth of the
total number of gainful workers, and
the statistics show that the immigra-
tion of 20 years has not increased the
proportion of the foreign born in the
working population of the country.
Thosef of foreign parentage aggregate
11,166,361, or over 38 percent, almost
equally divided between immigrants
and children of immigrants. Manufae-
turing, trade and transportation and
the professions show an increasing
number of workers of each sex, while
the agricultural class represents a di-
minishing proportion. A
All the statistics given are for the
¢ontinental United States, which ex-
cluds Alaska, Hawaii and the mili-
tary and naval stations abroad. In-
cluding all these, but not including
Porto Rico, the Philippine Islands or
the islands of Guam and Tutuila, the
total’ number of persons engaged in
gainful cccupations in the United
States is given as 29,287,070. The ag-
gregate for the continental United
States increased over 24 percent since
1890, in which decade the total popula-
tion increased almost 21 percent. The
proportion of those gainfully employed
to the total population increased al-
most 3 percent. Almost.40 percent of
the men employed were engaged in
agricultural pursuits, 24: percent @n
manufacturing and mechanics, 18 per-
cent in’ trade and transportation, al-
most 15 per cent in domestic and per-
sonal service, and 3 1-2 percent in pro-
fessional service. About 40 percent of
the females employed were in domes-
tic or persona] service, 25 percent in
manufacturing and mechanics, 18 per:
cent in agriculture, 9 percent in trade
and transportation and 8 percent in
professions. The percentage of fe-
male workers is especially high wher-
ever the negro element is prominent.
Of the men, 66 percent of the single,
94 percent of the married, 77 percent
of the widowed and 89 percent of the
divorced were emrloyed, while among
the women, 31 percent of the single, 6
percent of the married, 32 percent of
the widowed and 55 percent of the di-
vorved were employed.
Lofty Mountain Lakes.
The most lofty mountain lakes are
found among the Himalaya Moun:
tains in Thiket. Their altitudes do
not, however. seem to have been very
accurately gauged, for different au-
thorities give widely different figures
regarding them. According to some,
Lake Manasarowar, cne of the sacred
lakes of Thibet, is between 19,000 and
20,(&8)0 feet above the level of the sea
and if this is so undoubtedly the lofti-
est in the world.
Two other Thibetan lakes, those of
Ghatamoo and Surakoi, are said to
be 17,000 and 15,400 feet in altitude
respectively. For a long time it was
supposed that Lake Titicaca, in South
America, was the loftiest in the world.
It covers about 4500 square miles,. is
32,000 feet above the sea. In spite of
the inexactitude with regard to the
measurements cf the elevation of the
Thibetan lakes they are no doubt con-
siderably higher than this or any oth-
" er.— Philadelphia Ledger.
Sympathy.
Ruffon Wratz—Say, mister, I hain’t
had nuthin’ to eat fur two days, an
I'm——
Fellaire (formerly Rusty Rufus)—
Dying of thirst, are you, old chap?
Well, here’s a quarter for the sake
of - old times. Now ‘get out ‘of my
sight as quick as you can, you greasy
old fraud, and you'll save me the
trouble of kicking you out of it—
Chicago Tribune.
The Question.
A music hall performer now appear-
ing in London has stated that she was
offered £525 a week to stay in Chica-
go. Whether this sum was offered by
London or Chicago has not transpired.
ondon Punch.
ASE
AN ELO
+ WE
The Rev
That
Bloox
and
Broor
MacFad
Sunday
terian C
was “W
said:
My su
Cod?” ;
were bo
the flesh
Eere
contrast
man an
equal; b
fare tha
and envy
faith in
implies,
one tru
for this
Power i
to the fi
dificulti
except t
Every:
gomew he
has nev
His wor
So mug!
means S
2 no su
ts pedi
think cl
so they
ome oO:
takes, ai
is some
the tric
young rv
who suc
ship or
how, an
learned
is foreo
more in
can ask
or held :
son.
It fol
ant thir
is inspir
Bnerey |
go much
the ad
ready, t
he must
boy mu
own ex]
upon th
he meet
eset hi
igh scl
imself
him on
John,
ways of
erman
blood, :
ut sol
this int
aishings
ohn
depend
bott ha
ly: |
ply bec:
ness of
reat 1
oundat
respects
in an i
child is
new ge:
good sc
1s good
heredit;
annal
rejoiced
et us
ives u
ing els:
take in
dren of
cated
than th
er, who
saying:
T’ll mal
the fen
cation,
before
wish t
Ward
could 1
courses
proposi
and vi
him ag
mighty
dark e;
ious ca
vigor!
of his
wretch
in tha
Scarlet
was los
tral pl
thrashe
miracle
who ki
office
time; 1
he was
en heal