ABSENT. Sometimes, between long shadows on the The I traant waves of sunlight pass, My OE grow dim with tenderness, the while Thinking I see thee smile! And sometimes in the twilight gloom, apart, The tal] trees whisper, whisper heart to hea From al ’ fond lips the eager answers fall, Thinking 1 hear thee call! — Catherine Young Glen. ofecte i + By HELEN FOREST GRAVES. dob epee fb de dodo The October moonlight, still and scft as a rain of silver, was bathing the old Valley Farm in its chilly radiance; the great maple tree at the doorstone was showering its red leaves down up- on the -moss-enameled roof, and the sound of the noisy, little brook in the ravine below rose up like an unvoiced lullaby in the silence, as Robert Grey stood there holding Alice Burt's two hands in his. “Then I may tell your mother, Alice, and ask permission to become her son? My own little one! How many, many years we have been separated; and all through a careless word; but heaven ‘has brought us together again!” Alice Burt was only twenty years old; but she had already laid off the mourning she had worn for a twelve: month in respect for the memory of her husband, Wallace Burt, who had been a kind and tender husband to her. He had loved her with all the force of his strong, manly nature; but Alice had been but a cold, irresponsive bride to him. She had married him in a fit of pique at some slight, real or fancied, shown her by Robert Grey, the first and last sweetheart of her‘ girlish years; and she was too young and art- less to simulate the love she did not feel. So, at last, when she tied the widow's cap down on her fair brown curls, and put on the somber black dress, her heart was glad within her. “Hush! Was that the clock striking eleven? Oh Robert, how late it is! 1 must go in!” “One more kiss, then, little queen of my soul! I shall go with you, how- ever!” But Alice slipped past him in the big old “keeping-room” where Mrs. Ray- mond. sat knitting by the light of the crackling wood fire, and the gray cat purred on the warm hearthstone, and ran upstairs, her brown curls all dis- heveled and her cheeks pink with un- wonted excitement. “Mrs. Raymond,” said Robert, com- posedly walking up to the quiet figure, “I have come to ask you to give Alice to me.” Mrs. Raymond’s eyes brightened into glad surprise. “Robert, is it actually so? My dear boy, how I have longed for this! It seems as if nothing had gone right since you quarelled and parted: three years ago, like two children as you “were—and then your long absence, and Alice’s marriage—you never saw Wwal- lage Burt, but he was very good to our little girl—and now this reconciliation! Robert, it is like a dream!” “But I hope it is a dream from which we shall none of us wake, Mrs. Ray- mond.” ; “And where is Alice?” “She has gone upstairs. She wanted me to confide to you the result of our moonlight chat and—" He started so suddenly and violently that Mrs. Raymond, too, sprang to her feel, =... . “Robert, my son, what is it?” He rushed to the door, threw it open and gazed round. “It-was nothing—nothing, and yet I could haye sworn that'a face was look- ing into the. window, not a second ago, very pale,” with © heavy black hair thrown back, and a scar across the right temple! Of course, though, it was my imagination, for—" “Robert!” “Mrs. “Raymond. ‘you are in!” © “No. .But—but—+Robert, tell me you bE EEE : The Ghost at Valley Farm. Fpesfoefedoodeedordodedlodniod fp will neyer breathe a word to Alice" of * S is » - SE not?” igre. ‘Raymond lowered her voice and “~ spoke in an alarmed whisper. “It would be but a mournful omen “for Het Second marriage that the ghost of her first husband looked upon our happiness.” “The ghost of her first husband? 2’ “Yes. You have described Wallace Burt's very face, with the scar across his temple that he has borne since Le was a boy.” 7 For a moment Robert Grey stood in silence. “My dear Mrs. Raymond, have been but my fancy.” “I know—I know; but ‘do not tell ber.” “Of course, there is no use in terrify- ing her with marvelous tales of the supernatural; but further than this—" “Hush! Here she comes! Not a word of this!” And Alice entered, shy and smiling. with her blue eyes downcast and the prettiest blushes .on her cheek. Long after Alice Burt was dreaming, with her bright face pressed close to the pillow, and Robert Grey was safe in his own not distant home, Mrs. Raymond sat, watching the fading glow of the embers, and thinking, with a troubled heart, of the strange apparition that had so darkly over- shadowed the bright future of her daughter's opening life! The old clock had chimed ‘“‘one” be- fore she rose to seek her pillow, and the moonlight lay in silver brightness on the fioor beneath the window as she began to fasten the doors for the night, when— it must scream rent the stillness of the mid- | | believing in my Alice's “love to the | propriation by this people of all that | science and civilization can give or | teach, forget that it has long been pos- | | ing to teach the people the true val- Merciful Father in Heaven! what a | night! And Alice, the next day, told Robert of her terror, when, roused from her slumbers by that unearthly shriek, she found her mother lying senseless on the floor down stairs. “Oh, Robert, she was like one dead!” faltered the frightened young widow. But Mrs. Raymond avoided the sub- ject when her intended son-in-law ques tioned her. “It was only a fainting fit, Robert,” she declared. “I have been subject 10 them from my childhood up. You are all magnifying a mere trifie into ab- surd importance.” And Mrs. Raymond never told living soul How she, too, had seen the death- pale face, with the heavy black hair swept backward, and the scar across the temple, seemingly close to her own, as she leaned out to close the windown shutters in the white rain of moonlight. “There is a fate in this marriage!” she murmured, wringing her hands. “It will never come to pass while Wal- lace Burt’s ghost rises from the dead to forbid its banns. Death or disaster will part my child and her lover yet.” But Mrs. Raymond's fears proved un- real. Alice and Robert were married in due course of time, and she ventured at last to breathe freely, as month af- ter month glided by without a single cloud to mar the brightness of her chil- dren’s-lives. It was nearly a year afterward that Mrs. Raymond received a letter direct- ed to her in an unknown handwriting. With that instinctive feeling of dread which had never left her since . the moonlight night in October so event- ful to her daughter's life, she broke the seal. It was a brief note from Dr. , a famous surgeon in New York, enclos- ing another. ‘ “Wallace Burt's writing! My God! will this dreadful mystery neyer cease to haunt me?’ she wailed. “Mother,” began the letter, “for you were my mother once, in spirit and ten- derness, if not in letter, I am on my deathbed now, or you would never hear from me. You saw me that night in October—you know now that 1 was not lost at sea, as all fancied! Would I had been—would I might have died, last! I was rescued from the lonely island where so many others of the crew met an awful death by shipwreck and came to India. There I worked my way home by slow degrees, reach- ing it only to hear Robert Grey’s vows of love—my wife’s words of answering tenderness! “I could not blame her—did she not believe herself a widow ?—but that mo- ment all the hope and brightness went out of my life! I could not proclaim myself, to blast her happiness with the knowledge that 1 yet lived—but I could not tear myself away! He saw me—you saw me! What you thought or believed I never have known; but when I saw her marriage in the news- paper, 1 knew that she was innocent and unsuspicious as an angel. Never undeceive her—she is happier than ever I could have made her! When you read this, I shall have closed up all my ac- counts with this life—they tell me I have but twenty-four hours to live. If my blessing can make Alice happier she has it—but never tell her that I did not perish at sea. ‘W. B.” Dr. ’s note said briefly: “The patient died in hospital last night. I forward this letter, as requested.” Alice never knew how deeply and unselfishly her firét' husband ‘had Iovéd her—and Wallace Burt's ghost rests peacefully ‘now 4n”its lo7ely grave.— Good Literature. # wl “hah pr TET 40h H EALTH ,OF JAPANESE,. Gan iRRY . Their Mode of Living. Conducive to :. Freedom. from. Disease. All wealth is at ‘last reducible to and is, in fact, identical L With healthy human’ bodies. There are ol y two, civ- ilized nations which have copies and carried out, compulsory vaccination— the German and: the Japanese. - Their consequent freedom’ from. smallpox is but one illustration . of .many that might ' be .adduced, - showing that in making science .practical, that is, in hygiene and preventive medicine, the Japanese are in advance of all others. The fundamental condition of “this health of the people lies far back of all the contributions of Occidental civ- ilization, and are wholly indigenous to this remarkable people. It ccn- sists in the national and historic hab- it of living in the fresh air and sun- ‘shine. Every hygienist knows and preach- es that almost the sole cause of tu- berculosis and pneumonia is the ill ventilation and impure air of our houses. They are house diseases. Many others are in part or indirectly due to the same cause. Personal un- cleanliness of body is also a contribu- ting source of morbid mischief, against which the best of our western nations must also fight a long war. The Jap- anese have plenty of fresh air and Jight in their houses. The typical Japanese house, indeed, is open on all sides and at all times to wind and sun, and thcse who live in it are the most cleanly of body of all peoples. They have no bed rooms, and no beds, as we understand the term, and so they are also free from the diseases which are almost inevitably connect- ed with that otherwise univ ersal piece of household furniture. Thcse who are astonished at the sudden: ap- sessed of the prime essentials of civ- ilization, of which cur hygienists and boards of health .are vainly now try- | long, ue.—American Medicine. RIVALS MAMMOTH CAVE. Many Subterranean Wonders Found at Red Bud, Ill. : Within an hour’s ride of St. Louis is a cave said to surpass the famous Mammoth Cave in some respects. Its mouth is near Red Bud, Ill. Exactly under what part of the earth’s surface it terminates is not known, but a civil engineer who visited the cavern de- clared his belief that it extended un- der the bed of the Mississippi river and beyond into the hills of Missouri. It is at least 12 miles long. j Discover- ed more than half a century ago, it has been visited so infrequently ‘that comparatively few persons are aware of its existence. Lofty halls, massive stalactites and stalagmites encrusted with. a ‘frost- work that sparkles in the torchlight, tinkling waterfalls, great rocks carved into a thousand fantastic forms, and a river peopled with eyeless fish are characteristics of the cavern. Within 10 yards of the entrance the passage broadens into a room so wide that the sides cannot be seen by the light of the torch when one stands in the centre. Two hundred feet beyond this chamber the narrow passage wid- ens into an anteroom. From this side wall juts a black image that, in the strong nose, high cheek bones’ ‘and flickering light of the torches, resemb- ling an Indian warrior’s head. A strong nose, high cheeck bones and deeply set eyes stand out clearly from the shadows. Beyond this is an ave- nue called “Dead Man’s Gulch,” lit- tered with coffin shapen bowlders. It opens into the “Graveyard.” In unexpected juxtaposition is a great chamber, which, for another reason than its proximity and order of approach, has been named “Heaven.” Innumerable stalactites, 30 to 60 feet depend from its vaulted roof. Between these hang smaller stalac- tites, from which the light of torches is reflected in a thousand white points resembling twinkling stars. The sparkling of the myriad points of light in the roof suggested the name. . The steady drip, drip of unseen springs has given rise to the name of “Dripping Springs,” which has been bestowed upon an adjoining chamber. Terminating the passage leading from “Dripping Springs” is a great hall containing a beautiful pile of hundreds of stalagmites intertwined. These form a mass which has been named “Columbia Dome.” In the ‘“Queen’s Drawing Room” beyond is heard the roar of failing water. As the explorer passes across the chamber, which is so high that the light from his torch shines upon no perceptible roof, the roar grows louder and deeper in tone. At last a gigantic room is reached, and it is found that the sound does not proceed from one large waterfall, as supposed but from hundreds of small cascades pouring from hidden fissures in the walls. ] Five miles from the mouth are the “Crystal Springs.” At this point the cavern is crossed by a small lake, hip deep, which prevents further progress for parties containing women.” The cave has been exvliored six miles be- yond this point, but the end was not found. A story is told of a Frenchman who lost his life near “Dead Man’s Gulch” 60 years ago. He had entered the cave with a friend, and the two lost their way. The oil in their lanterns became exhausted, and after search- ing many hours for an outlet the Frenchman said to his friend, “I am too weak to go any further, and.as you still have some strength left, leave me here and try to find your way out.” Placing the exnausted French- man on one of the many ledges of rock at this point, and placing a red handkerchief upon a neighboring bowlder, he set forth to renew his search for ‘the entrance. Time ‘and again he cut his hands on the needle pointed stalagmites over which he fell in the darkness, and, at last, to his intense joy, he saw a streak of light glinting from a side wall and found that he was approaching the entrance. Hé never had been so glad to see the approach of “daylight before. ‘Hardly had he passed from the cave then he fell from exhaustion and slept. Toward evening he awoke and ims mediately organized a searching party. Hall after hall was searched, but mo trace of the Frenchmap or handker- chief could be found. A hunter from Kaskaskia came to Red Bud one day saying that while walking through a part of the cave he had noticed a hand- kerchief lying upon one of the ‘rocks. Supposinig that some one had lost it he picked it up and continued upon his tour of, inspection,*but becoming alarmed at the great number of halls and avenues turned back. Assuring the men that he could take them to the exact spot, they accompanied him. After going about a mile he stopped and said: “Here is where I found the handkerchief.” Then the friend of the Frenchman, who was with the par. ty, pcinted to one of the ledges and said: “There is where I placed my friend.” An examination of the ledge proved this. The missing man was found there dead.—New York Tribune: Swallowing Pins. 1 How are children so often able with- out injury to swallow such sharp things as pins, needles, tacks and bits of glass? The secret, as disclos- ed by Dr. Albert Exner of Vienna, lies in the fact that when a pointed or sharp edged body comes in contact with the lining of the stomach or in- testines the part touched contracts and puckers so as to thicken itself in that place. At the same time it with- draws itself in such a manner as to form a little pocket, and gradually twists the object around so as to turn the edge or point away, pushing the thing along. 1 1 SCIENCE NOTES. . Cassava starch, more popularly khown ‘as tapioca, is the chief element of the gum on tae back of all postage stamps. By the use of liquefied gases ex- tremely low temperatures, in the neighborhood of 392 degrees Fahen- reit below zero, can easily be ob- tained. The toad is exceedingly greedy. It feeds continuously throughout the night, and in 24 hours consumes 2 quantity of insects equal to about four times its stomach capacity. A single mesquite seed, from the southwest and planted in Honolulu in 1837, has propagated and spread until in the Hawaiian Islands today there are 50,000 acres of the fa- mous plant of the alkali plains of Ari- zona and New Mexico. Altogether, it is estimated, a man consumes about 1280 times his own weight of food and liquid in 70 years, or more exactly, he eats 5 3-4 tons of solids and drinks 12 3-4 tons of fluids. If these 96 1-2 tons of solids and li- quids were converted into forms of mechanical force, they would, be suffi- cient to raise 87 000, 000° tons one foot. The plants used as substitutes for soap have been investigated by L. Rosenthaler. These are especially nu- merous among the leguminous plants, with albizzia and acacia at the head of the list. The roots and root stalks and bulbs are mostly used, then the’ bark, and sometimes the leaves and fruit. An East Indian plant supplies “blos- soms that may be employed. The cleansing property of the plants seems to be due to saponine, and to depend upon the production of ‘this substance of very finely divided particles in the form of an emulsion, The vegetable soap is claimed’ to have the advantage that—being neutral or slightly acid— it contains no free alkali to injure col- ors. It is stated that one plant alone — musa paradisiea—has sap containing sodium oleate, and that it serves as soap without containing sdponine. et ELECTICITY IN FARMING. Its Use More Extensive in Europe ! Than in America. In’ Europe the use of electricity 4n farming, while by no means exten- sive, still is more frequent than in this country, says the Electrical Review. In Germany a good deal of attention trical systems of ploughing and cul- tivating, and other countries have ‘shown a willingness to ‘try the new ‘system. France, in particular, seems to be giving electricity a thorough trial. The southern part of France abounds in waterfalls, These water powers have been developed for light- ing and furnishing. “power to "the neighboring: towns, and ‘an’ important part of output of these stations is used on the farms. Here, motors are adapt- ed to doing all zinds of work.: They are always ready to start; ‘they are, in general, transportable, so’ ‘that they can be moved from place to place, and they consume nothing when idle. Where the farm is fairly large it owns its own motor and keeps it working a good part of the day. Smaller farms combine and make one motor do the work for all, carrying it about from place to place as needs require. It is possible that .in .this section of ‘the country the horse has never been an important factor, and the. small farm- er ‘has been able to gef His products on ‘the market by other mean $B 4 For Sleeplessness. So many people are complaining of insomnia, which refuses to yield to any of the established remedies, that the ‘discovery of .a cure by a New York physician cannot fail to be welconie news. Drugs, though they may be ef- ficacious at first, soon lose their ef- fect unless the quantity is increased to a dangerous extent, ‘and in any case they are very injurious and terri- ble things to tamper with.! I know of cases where women, who at first’ ‘only { had recourse to drugs for sleeplessness, have become eventually perfect slaves of this fatal habit. The cure this physician claims to ' have discovered is simple in the ex- treme. He had tried it himself and also on his patients with invariable success. The process is as follows: “A long breath is first taken, and the air is kept in until positive discomfort is felt, when it is slowly exhaled; this is repeated a second and a third time, and in a minted or so the patient is asleep.” po Oftentimes it induces sleep to eat or drink something, such as a cup of very hot milk taken in small sips, or a hard biscuit chewed thoroughly.—Gentle- woman. Many Wood Products. Nothing about a sawmill goes to waste these days. Ten years age the sawmill owners would pile their saw- dust until they had a large heap, and then they would burn it, getting no re- turn. whatever... The most of ‘them now have Dutch ovens for: dtying ‘the dust, and they burn it in their furnac- ! ation. es, making the refuse pay for the oper- Still others have established paper mills, and use their sawdust for making paper. In the olden days great logs were taken and squared. and the slabs were thrown away. Now a very thin slice is taken off. Then a board is sawed and edged, and in that way hardly a perceptible fraction is lost with the bark, and even. the bark has its uses. Mary Queen of Scots, although she left but one child, has decendants in , every court in Europe. imported | has been devoted to developing elee-, English Bread Pudding, One pint of soft breadcrumbs, one- half cup of dried currants or raisins, two eggs, two tablespoonfuls of su- gar, 1 1-2 cups of milk. Grease small custard cups or ordinary baking pan, and put in the breadcrumbs. The bet- ter way to make the crumbs is to take a whole slice and roll it between the hands. The fruit may be mixed with the crumbs, or it may be spread on top or on the bottom of the pan. If it is used over the top, it will form a bot- tom layer when the pudding is turned out. Beat eggs without separating, add sugar and then milk. When the sugar is dissolved, pour carefully over the breadcrumbs. Let stand ten minv‘es and place in shallow bak- ing pan, partly filled with water. Bake in a quick 6ven 15 or 20 min- utes. The mixture must be “set” in the centre. Serve with a liquid pud- ing sauce.’ Serving a Meal. 1—Napkins must be folded simply and not in fanciful forms. 2— Place knives and forks in the order in which they are to be used, the first one used on the outside far- thest away from the plate. 3— Extra plates, glasses, knives, forks and spoons should be in readi- ness on the side table. 4— Butter must rot be served sO early as to become soft. 5—RBread should be freshly cut. 6—When removing a course, food must be first taken, then soiled dishes, then clean dishes. then carving cloth and lastly crumbs. 7—Soiled plates and dishes must be removed from tke right of each per- son, 8—Everything relating to one course must be removed before serving an- other course, : 9—A medt must not be announced until everything is ready which is or may be needed. 3 Taking Out Stains. ‘Here is a serviceable list to be kept for reference: To take cut grass stains use ordinary coal oil; wet the spots thoroughly just before putting them in the wash tub. For iron rust wet the spots with lemon iuice, lay the garment in the sun and spread thick with salt; every now and again squeeze lemon juice over, keeping it wet. Two or three exposures may be necessary. When your tablecloth and nice nap- kins are stained by fruit, have a small bottle of javelle water prepared at the druggist’s, and saturate the spots, let- ting it lie a while before laundering. If fruit stains are taken in time, how- ever, have some one hold the spot over the sink and pour boiling water through. Oxalic acid eats a hole in a few moments unless ‘immediately washed out. Glycerine takes out coffee and tea stains. First soak in cold water, then spread with glycerine and leave all night. The stains will disappear In the laundering. Those who have used vaseline know what an ugly stain it] leaves on linen. This can be removed with chloroform or ether, but must be used with care. Have a cup or bowl handy; pour a few drops of ether on the stain, invert the bowl over the spot to keep the fumes from evapor- ating and leave some time. When a garment has been scorched in the ironing, unless too deep, a hot sun bath will effectually draw out the spot. If not quite gone, wet the place and rub laundry soap on it; then lay in the sun.—Progressive Farmer. Recipes, ravy for Stews—In making stews or ragouts of cooked meats, omit the. flour as thickening, use instead a. sort of potato paste, made by cutting up potatoes into tiny. bits and allowing them to come to a boil slowly, after haying stood half an hour in cold water. When the stew is nearly fin- ished, add the potato and allow all to simmer: gently a few minutes. The taste of the gravy will be found much superior to that prepared with flour or corn starch. Creamed Lamb Hash—Chop suffi- cient cold cooked lamb to make one pint; put one tablespoonful of flour in a sadeepan; when the butter is melt- ed sf: until smooth and add one cup- ful of ‘milk; stir until boiling; add half a teaspoonful of salt and a little pap- rika; when boiling and thickened add the lamb chopped fine and a grating of nutmeg: have pieces of toast cut into rounds, = heap over them the creamed hash and place a poached egg on top of each; chicken and veal may ‘be-served the same way. Cranberry and ‘Raisin -Pie—Raisins are often introduced into food without sufficient cooking to soften the skins, which are usually very tough even if thin, and are, to many persons, diffi- cult of digestion. :It is better to cook them thoroughly in a little water un- til plump before using them in pies or dishes where they have but slight chance tobe made tender. Cook one- half cup of raisins and one cup of cranberries in one-half cup of boiling water until tender. Let them cool, then remove the seeds from the rai- sins, and return the pulp to the cran- berries; add one cup of sugar, one rounded tablesnoon of butter and ome egg, and after lining with paste’ and filling the plate with the mixture, sprinkle one tablespoon of flour over the top, cover with a rich crust and bake. PARISIAN SECRET POLICE. Strangers in the City Constantly Watched and Acts Recorded. About the words. “the secret po lice,” there is a pretty air of mystery. They summon up pictures of cloaked figures, of men waiting in dark alley- ways and of stealthy steps behind the curtains of corridors. en into nine-tenths of popular French fiction. The woman concierge, sStn- ning herself in what Parisian doorway vou please, feeds her imagination on tales of multiple disguises. For her the azent de la surete, who comes inquire about her lodgers, is dark wi mystery; he is “of the secret police.” As a matter of fact, this branch of the police, though dressed in plain clothes, is not at all occult. It has to do with plain and simple crimes. Most of the agents of the surete are old soldiers, honorable men. They are supplement- ed, however, by a band of quasi police known as indicateurs. These people, who are permanent auxiliaries of the service, are recruited among the street fakers and masterless rogues who foregather in Paris. But behind these humdrum agents and those gloomy outcasts, their aids, there is a mighty and mysterious “se- cret police,” about which not one Pari- sian in a ie has definite knowl edge. The real secret police—today, as under the empire—is that which is known as the brigade de recherches— that is, the brigade of investigation. The members of this force are re- cruited in a far higher rank of society than the fellows of the surete.*In- deed, there is no class—from the old nobility to the new feudality “of fin- ance—which ‘doesn’t contribute’to this occult system of espionage. It is not my purpose here to describe in detail the many ramifications of this ancient and potent order of spies. A foreigner in France, if he _asso- ciates frequently with people of im- portance, comes in time to know them well. They follow him in his com- ings and goings, report upon his acts and opinions, and sift his life, with a care unknown in our careless republic, One of those who was sent out on my trail I came to know very well. What 1 was suspected of I know not, though during the troublous days of Xie Drey- fus case I fraternized with many men —one of whom, the Comte du Temple, an ex-deputy, was an ‘aggressive roy- alist. Anyway, my.spy and I came to know each other very weil. He played a good game of billiards and was a companionable gentleman. A little later Dr. Will. O'Sullivan, the assistant corporation counsel, of New York, visited me in Paris. He was greatly interested in the secret police. I could hardly persuade him that from the moment we met and shook hands in the Gare du Nord until his departure from the Gare St. La- zare, every act of his had been noted. I got the evidence from my friend (my own pet spy) in the brigade des rech- erches. The doctor's reeord was sin- gularly complete. He had not spoken with a man, he had not chatted with a woman, he had not dined out or breakfasted in my garden, he had not bought a pair of yellow gloves, unseen by some ubiquitous spy. The amazed gentleman, when he learned how close had been the watch unon him, shud- dered as if he had walked in peril, and went back to New York. So close are the meshes of this police nét that not even a casual visitor slips through.—Vance Thompson in Suc cess. t QUAINT AND CURIOUS. There are 2400 mineral waters bot- tled in New York City. Peat has about half of the heating power of coal and double that of wood. A farthing has been foumd in the stomach of a codfish at Eyemouth, England. won The long distance automobile race this year will be from Paris to Madrid, 330 miles. 2 Christian societies are presenting copies of the Bible to Japanese sol- diers at the front. Cress is the quickest growing of plants. Under perfect conditions it will flower and seed within eight gaye of planting. A franchise has been granted to build an electric railroad from Merced, Cal., along the Merced River into the Yosemite Valley to reach the Yosemite National Park. The supply of sterilized milk by the Liverpool ‘Corporation has become quite a popular business. '‘As many as 500 families are now supplied, the weekly consumption being 1200 gal- lons. Mrs. Abram Van Howe of Codus, N. Y., eighty-one years of age, has cut her third set of teeth. Recently she experienced a peculiar ‘SOTeness: in her gums where her teeth had once been, although she lost them all many years ago. A physician was called in and found that a full new set of teeth was struggling to get through the gums on both jaws. Queen’s Names on Oaks. Many English queens have chosen cak trees in Windsor Forest whereon their respective names, with the dates of their choice, have been commemor- ated by means of brass plates. In dif- ferent parts of the forest, with seats around them, are oaks bearing the names of Queen Elizabeth, Queen Caro- line, Queen Charlotte and Queen Vice toria. ‘“Herne’s Oak,” mentioned win the “Merry Wives of Windsor” as be- ing in Windsor Park, was destroyed | by a gale on August 31, 1863. They are wov- wondering. - #¢ & i p i Bl ~ ASER AN ELOGI " BROOKL byterian ( tor, the R on the su for his te: “His Spr’ plexing o mysteries over her what it japsing o lity. The 80 busy and still posed in grace, ly: generally wakeful 1 day we nervous you wi cause ( and mi Tt is be ko trus to a s know t our Te ear tl selves, you ha you wi ting e: cause | you an event the fut leaving u God? we sle frustec sure tl night, . thoug] intrud surely your | im; God, large can ¢ ready
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