er a er p——— TEE SEA TS TT EXSY pa ne aE ON THE TRAIL. Got a price on his head. An’ th’ ranch-boss, he sald He’d prefer him alive, but he would take im dead. ’ trouble. o’ course, Drink an’ Cap. R. BE. Morse ' a dash fr th’ plains on another man’s OSS. Knowed him since he’s a lad, Jsed t° bunk with his Dad, Ain't a patural tough, but in liquor he’s bad. Fill hi'self to his chin, Soak hi'self to th’ skin An’ then sit around waitin’ a chance to mix in. Say! The youngster could ride Anything with a hide On its back where th' hair was a-growin’ outside, Roll a good cigarette On his hoss on a bet When th’ cayuse was lost yet. buckin® an’ never Sittin’ there in th’ camn, Sort o' worn out an’ damp, An’ his hoss ga'nt an’ tired fr'm a ninety - mile tramp Through th’ snow an’ th’ sleet An’ he took liquor neat, Fr th’ stuff seemed t’ an’ his meat. be both his drink I dunno! Somethin’ hot Passed between ‘em—a sho An’ th’ other man drawed umes slower 'n he ought. Well! It wasn’t much loss, But th’ big buckskin hoss That he tuk when he skipped was th’ pride of th’ boss! "Taint because that galoot That he killed with a beaut Of a shot Led an’ idee he shoo Ef he jest "hadn't tuk That especial ol’ buck- Skin th’ boss broke jel ‘twouldn’t mat. ter—wuss luck! knew how to Got a price on his head. An’ th' ranch-boss. he said He'd prefer him alive, but he wonld take him dead. Cause a man ain | munch loss, But it's time. s th' boss, That all DIRinsT i was learnin’ 108 F oles, in a hoss is a —J. W. An 01d Fool. SRE 8y E. EURROWES. the New York Times. ERR SNS From the uprer window at which he sat at work, the Man could see the daffodils nodding their heavy under the pink-blossomed apple trees; beyond that lay a belt of dark firs, and away on the horizon glimmered a purple line of sea. His eyes wan- dered from the paper and musty vol- umes on which they should have been set, to the lovely outer world and in- cidentally to the Girl and the Boy, who were wandering ‘like a couple of nymphs,” he thought in his whimsical fashion through the orchard. The ap- ®le blossom shedding its delicate petals on the breeze, fluttered over her un- covered head as she walked, and now and then through the warm silence he could hear her laugh. Such a pretty, pretty laugh, It sent him back with a start and a frown to his musty books, and his paper on which he wrote but slowly though his work was dear to him, and the subject before him en- grossing. But He pulled himself up with a sigh. “No fool like an old fool,” he mut- tered to himself with a remembrance of the lines on his clear-cut face, and the silver streaks in his hair. He had never noticed them so vividly as this morning in the glass. No fool like an old fool! The words worried him to such an extent that in the midst of his learned article on’ the “Evolution of Species,” he found he had written them three times over. Then he thrust aside those abomin- able ‘papers; shut up the musty vol- ames, and went -out:into- the spring sunshine—alone. There lay the tragedy of it; he was alone—always, always alone. He sup- posed he would be alone to the end of the chapter. , The lambs frisking about in happy, pairs; the birds twittering together Of their domestic affairs, and the Boy and the Girl in the orchard, they all had each other, but the Man was alone! He ought to have become accustomed to the loneliness by now, for he had borne it for most of his thirty-seven years, but he had never felt it so keenly until—the Girl came into his life. She was a mere slip of a thing, confided to his care by her dying father, who had been a distant and not very reputable cousin of his. She was an orphan and penniless, and she had taken the Man out of him- self; shown him other interests beside books and theories, and left him, sud- denly awankened and—miserable with the misery of poignant regret. Then she went walking in the or- chard with the Boy! It was nature speaking to her, he told himself, and he could not forbid her. He supposed vaguely that the day was not far off when he would be quite alone again—when the Girl would have gone, and he would have to go back to his old comrades, his books and his theories, with nothing to break into their dead level—to the end. He wbuld not go to the orchard; no »Jet them be alone together—they could want no one but each other. The ‘Man walked on till he reached a stile; beyond that lay the dark fir woods, and through their straight clean limbs he could still catch a glimpse of that purple line which marked the limitless sea. He stood there so still and so motionless that a little brown rabbit popped up from his hole and sat look- ing at him with wary eyes, ready at the smallest alarm to pop down gain 4nto safety. But the Man was not the one who gave the alarm. Girl who came treading swiftly down the path, her] e dress sweeping the long grass, punny out of its «1 thought you ts. were lost,” she said It was the | | clubs, heads | frightening the | | write a series of articles on 4 | Greece and her is with a little laugh, and slipped her hand through his arm. The Man start- ed, and the look in his eyes must have been like a sudden revelation to the Girl, for the words died on her pretty lips, and she could only stare at him in what he thought was—ter- ror. He knew the feminine mind =0 little! ‘My dear—I was thinking,” he stam- mered. “I got tied up in my work and though a breath of fresh air would clear away the cobwebs. You are not alone, surely.” “Not now—for I have you!” she said, with a dancing smile. The odd look he hed trembled before was gone from her blue eyes. “But 1 saw you in the orchard with—" “Oh, he’s gone,” she said, airly. “He is a nice boy—a dear, nice boy, but I'm tired of him. He is so dreadfully 1 young! “And you are—how much?—nine- teen?” She nodded. “As old as his twenty-five years, and older, because I am a woman,” she said, and the man marveled at the metamorphose which had changed the child—he had thought her little more— into the woman. Again he told him- self with fierce emphasis, that he was a fool—an old, old fool! “Well, here you ‘have age,” he said lightly; “does that please you better, little girl? For 1 am as old as the hills!” “Yet the hills have incurable youth,” she said; “sometimes they look like babies—and you are rather a baby sometimes, too!” She smiled at ight smile at her thing leaped up to hot, passionate life within him. It must have been that thing he thought was withered and him as a, mother child, and some- | dead—his heart! “And 1?” juring up a must grow out soon as possible, abroad.” “Abroad? What for?” “On a mission, I have bzen asked to ancient sculpture, and that country. I he said, with difliculty con- valiant smile. “Then 1 of my babyhocd as because—l am going means a journey to the | shall camp out on the hills and live like a gypsy.” “How delightful! And I'll cook your dinner for you, and mind the tent while you are poking about old ruins, and it'll-be like a fairy tale.” “But———" the man stammered and grew pale; “but—dear child, I must go alone!” “Oh, nonsense! Why I couldn’t trust you alone. Who would darn your cocks and see that your clothes were aired 7—they’ll have to air in the sun when we are living on the eternal hills, I suppose—and—why, you don’t mean to say that you were going to— tc leave me behind!” The poighant distress in her voice made him forget for one wild moment that he was only—an old fool. His folly prompted him to take her in his arms and tell her—tell her— But he dared not. “You—don’'t want rg to come?” she hazarded, with mournful eyes; and at that he let go his self-control. He for- got that heswas the old fool; he only knew that—he loved her, and come what might he must tell her so. Then —he could go on his way again—alone —and find his consolation among the eternal hills. “Want you!” he said, hoarsely; “my dear—my dear! Don’t you understand? I want you so much that I am going— out of temptation's way.” She looked at him gravely, but there was the smallest dimple peeping in her pink ‘cheek; then the anguish in his face struck her, and she slipped her hand through his arm. Yon't go,” -she whispered; “don’t go, and—leave me. I couldn't bear jit.” “But—oh, I'm a fool, dear, to think that you could ever care for me. And you know they say there is no fool like an old one.’ “1 like an old fool,” she said, Fite “indeed, there is one: old fecol he on- tively: — though he isn't a fool really; ly thinks he is—that I—love.” The man stared at her for one breathless moment; then—she was in his arms. 1 : “I'll never let you call yourself names again,” &he’ said, ‘presently; “hut I should have thought you ‘real- ly a fool— if you had gone without me. Because you'd have been miserable, wouldn't you? And—so should L * * * * The Man and the Girl went to Greece together on that mission, and their honeymoon among the eternal hills, where they lived the life of gypsies, was in itself a poem. There were some benighted beings who did call him an old fool when they heard of the marriage, bu t—who cared? Not the Man or the Girl; for their folly— if folly it was—had made them wise.— New York Weekly. Regatta at Zambesi’s Victoria Falls. The first regatta on the Zambesi river, in Rhodesia, will be held about five miles above the Victoria Falls on Whitsun Monday, in a magnificent reach over half a mile wide, and ex- ceptionally attractive both to oarsmen and onlookers, of whom there prom- ises to be a large attendance. Crews from Cape Town, Port Elizabeth, Jo- hannesburg, Salisbury, Bulawayo, Liv- ingstone and Beira are expected to compete. A challenge cub, with gold medals for the winning crew, has been nted for an intercemtral four oared competition for clinker built boats, and prizes for pair oar and dia- | mond sculls. There will be a four oared co mpetifion gpen to Rhodesian only, and a Ss for lo- pres | | i ed into shape ! that the ch cal nati should prove 1e least ir of the various competitions.—London Daily Graphic. BOLLS © o POPVPPO <The Y. rill ree 7 ellow Peril Only One Hope for Continued White Supremacy. ¢ By Bernard P. Shippray. Commins rari: 90000000900 USS SIA has richly deserved the punishment she has received, p 9090S 9S90d ng her reverses on land and sea are but the natural fruit ¢ of the corruption, insolence and insincerity of her govern- > R S ment. Nevertheless, Japan's triumph is anything but a » & cause for ‘congratulation and elation among the ruling na- > 4 tions of the “earth. It has brought appreciably nearer the ® nd of the white man’s werld rule, and it points to the time when the yéHéw: races will dominate the seas and lands that we of white’ skins have so long looked on as ours. In variably, with Japanese influence predominant in Asia, China will be organized on modern industrial lines. Her vast natural resources, her teem- ing population of industricus, capable workers will be developed in competi- tion with the nations of Europe and the Americas. Under the guidance of the Japanese, China’s millions of inhabitants in three generations will solve the problem of the open door by producing such manufactures as the country needs. Importation will stop because home manufactured goods, of a quality equaling the best made in other countries, will supply the home markets. Cost of manufacturing will be lower in China than in any other country. Soon she will have a surplus to dispose of, and the outlet for that surplus she will seek in Europe and on this continent. If the law of supply and demand ig not hindered in its operation by leg- islative enactments directed against Chinese goods, Chinese manufacturers will undersell us in our own markets. Our manufacturing supremacy—that is, England's, Germany's, France's, America’s—will be not only lost, but our manufacturers will be forced to close their mills and their employes will be without means of obtaining a livelihood, unless they can sink to the level of the Chinese. On the other hand, if protective measures are adopted in self-defence, they will ultimately result in war—a war of the Japanese-Chinese against the white nations of the world. Such a war, with the Japanese-Chinese forces animated by the spirit that animates the Japanese of today, conducted as Japan has conducted the present war, and with the opposing forces managed as the armies of all other nations are managed now, could end only in com- plete success for the yellow allies. There is but one rift in the clouds. With increasing knowledge of west- ern nations, Japan may adopt western vices of public administration. Graft, corruption, favoritism, cheap politics may weaken her now splendid system of honor, truth and patriotism. Under such circumstances, the whites would have a fair chance to win. Otherwise, the whites are lost. ° we oe Ld Fn / % 2. Tired. Out. ny By Kate Thorn. VERYBODY has the same complaint, Everybody is tired out. No energy, no ambiticn, nc life, no anything. It is a luxury to meet with a person who does not say anything about his liver, or his nerves, or his catarrh, or grip, or spotted fever, and the age his grandmother died at. Women especially are tired out. You can’t find one who has energy enough to make her husband a shirt, or tend her baby without a nursemaid, but there are a great many with endurance enough left to take care of a couple of lapdogs and a poll par- rott. When we look around us, and see how things are managed, and how the lives of our friends are ordered, we are not surprised that vitality is a - hing of the past. It is a dreadfully tough job to live nowadays, and do it as our friends expect us to do it. The wife and mother of a family must keep herself young, and she must dye her hair when it turns gray, and pull cut the hairs on her upper lip when they threaten to develop into a moustache, and she must paint, and powder, and crimp, and wear tight shoes, and tight corsets, and flounces, and ruffles, and plaitings, and flummydiddles, and she must dress her children fit for the ballroom every day, because Mrs. Judge Cushing dresses hers in that way; and she must have a large house full of fine furniture and artistic decorations, and she must paint roses, and all the daughters must paint roses, and do Ken- sington stitch, and make sunflowers tidies, and ottomans, and screens, and things by the score, to be set:up in everybody's way, and a nuisance generally. And there must be a conservatory, and an aviary, and some gold fishes, and several pots of ferns to keep in order and stumble over, and all the boys must have velocipedes, and rocking horses, and pointer dogs to see to; and the grown girls must have organs, and pianos and saddle horses and automobiles, and new dresses for every ball, and new jewelry for every party. And there must be dinners, and teas, and garden parties, and tennis par- ties, and company every evening, and a trip to Saratoga or Long Branch and the mountains every summer, and a trip to Florida every winter; and a trip to Europe sandwiched between, every two or three years, and new outfits for everything. No wonder people are tired. Son No wonder nerves are not what they used to be. No wonder we die before we live out-half our days As a nation, we are rushing ourselves to death trying to be happy and fashionable. We rush along at high pressure. We have just as many balls and parties to get through with this week; just as many trips: and excursions to make this month! And so many things to be got ready for each occasion! “Things” are the curse of modern existence!” Why is it that we must have new things to go somewhere when one has already so many clothes that she knows not what to do with -them?. “Why should sensible women act as if the whole fate of the universe depended on how many rows of shirring they had in an overskirt? an Life is all hurry. We hurry through want to crowd all we can. into our lifetime. We turn pn into day, and dance and flirt away the hours for sleep, and we drink “wines and strong tea and coffee, “to brace up our nerves,” and we eat late suppers, and we live in hot rooms, and we use poisonous face powder, and wear murderous corsets, and shoes which give us untold agony; and we die at thirty-five or forty, and our friends put up tombstones with sy mbols of broken lilies, ete., and inscrip- tions which signify that “God called us »_ when, instead, if the truth were told, our tombstones should bear the legend, “Died of toc much dancing, too much dissipation, and too much fashion.”—New York Weekly. Wo. NE ° w fe ~~ Let the Child Alone one thing to get to another. We he By The Rev. Merle St. Croix Wright. getetetegogopss IVE the children more active accomplishments—dancing, horseback riding, gynasium work, swimming, he said I think that a child who associates horse cannot go far wrong. Praise, not blame, is the great agent that helps children to grow. For children are all heroes, and there is nothing they will not do that you believe or expect them to do. I wouldn't break a child’s will for anything, nor take the bloom from its nature. There is nothing in the world like real nature of a child. And parents sometimes attempt to break the will of the child when they themselves are out of temper and punish without cause. Instead they should keep their heads cool and their reason calm if the child needs punishment. The punishment should fit the child, and not the crime. It may be imaginative. It may be sensitive. just for a change. In that case how can you punish it by any set of hard and fast rules. Always make the child understand just why it is being punished. I consider that to bring up one child might be called an art, but to bring up many must be a handicraft. Children get licked and whipped and round- among other children. They get independence in this way, and ! that is really the experience of the w world, It seems to me you can’t let a child too much alone. Freedom, companionship, fellowship, love—these are what children need. By trustiz and believing in them you can bring about the things in them that you desire to see. It seems to me that the son between pare nt and child is one of reciprocity—that each grows through the other. And I believe have more rights against parents than the parents have closely with the noble CIE CCI 3 CRC AC Ar Ma Me) CNC TEINS PAT IRS PROSE Ppt #5 Study your child. against the child It may do a mischievous thing { BUFFALO BILL'S TRAIL OPEN. Public Road Now Through 100 Miies of Wildest West. Buffalo Bill has lived to see one of his cherished aie carried out. Af- tre 40 years the trail which he himself mapped out through the wildest part of Wyoming has been opened as a public road. It was Colonel Cody’s desire to have a road entering Yel lowstone Park from the east, and this is the picturesque trail now open to tourists. Beginning on the Shoshone River, in the Big Horn Basin, it ends at the Lake Hotel in the Natural Park. In laying out the trail the old fight- er employed no engineer. He struck out for the wildest and most beautiful scenery to be found, and this road from the town of Cody to the Yellow- stone passes through such ravines and along such precipices that several short tunnels have had to be cut. Part of the time the way is over mountains and part of the time along winding rivers and canons. Upon this trail, in one of the very loneliest spots Colonel Cody has built for himself an imposing mausoleum in which he will some day be buried. The tomb is located on the apex of Rattlesnake Mountain, which before this road was opened was inaccessi ble save to a few experienced moun- taineers. In speaking of the work, Buffalo Bill says: “Those who travel over my trail will find 100 miles of thé most’ superb natural scenery in the world. We are in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, and the drinking water is from the purest mountain streams; the rivers are full of trout, and here also is the big game country of the Rockies.” Upon the trail the Colonel has es- tablished two hunting lodges called ‘Wapiti and Pahaska tepees. The lat- ter is named after the old fighter him- self, and in the Indian language means, “home of the long-haired-one.” Pahaska tepee has a log cabin which will comfortably accommodate more than a hundred persons. Colonel Cody's trail will help the home-seeker who will go to the Wind River and Shoshone Reservation next summer. The government has al- ready set June 15, 1906, as the date when the land shall be thrown open. In the meantime the United States is spending $2,225,000 on irrigation pro- feet in this self same Big Horn Basin for the reclamation of near to 150.- 000 acres of fertile land. The country is located in northwest- ern Wyoming, immediately east of Yellowstone Park. The basin itself contains more than 8,000,000 acres, and it is believed that at least a fourth of this can be influenced by irrigation. That part of the Big Horn district which the United States government is seeking to irrigate lies along the Shoshone River in Big Horn county. The main candl will be 60 feet wide at the bottom, and will extend from Rattlesnake Mountain, three miles above Cody, along the north side of the river to a terminus above Gar- land. At one point the canal passes through a ravine with perpendicular walls several hundred feet high, and this at the narrowest point will be walled up,by a dam 120 feet high as a reservoir—New York Sun. . Auto Dont’s. The following is a quotation which any metropolitan newspaper will heartily approve: “While on the subject of ‘Don'ts’ the following by M. D. H. Morris are well worth fixing in the mind for gen- eral guidance in driving: “Don’t disobey the rules of the road. “Remember to keep to and pass on the left. “Don’t forget that pedestrians have the same rights as vehicles at street crossings. “Remember that vehicles do not have the right of way at street cross- ings. “Don’t forget speed should never the right that your rate of exceed the legal rate, ten miles an hour in the great- er city. i “Remember, when local conditions require, to adopt even a lower rate of speed, than the legal rate. “Don’t get rattled. “Remember it is the ‘other fellow’ who always loses his head in a crisis. “Don’t insist upon your rights. “Remember that the ‘other fellow’ may not know your rights, and an in- sistence on your part is bound to re- sult in an accident. “Remember that women and chil- dren don’t know how to avoid danger. “Don’t run any unnecessary risks.” —From “The Book of the Automo- bile,” by Robert T. Sloss. Success. A failure was talking about success, says the Chicago Chronicle. “Regular work—so many hours of hard labor all the year through— that is success’ secret,” he said. “It jsn’t the clever, quick people who suc- ceed—they usually are the failures—-— it is the plodders, pegging away with their eyes fixed always on a single goal. “Gerandini, the said of his success: hours of practice a dav. for 28 years. “Fdison says: ‘Ainything I begin is great violinist, ‘It is due to 12 ; always on my mind, and 1 am wretched till it is finished.’ “Darwin said: ‘For 40 years I did not know one single day of health, yet each day’s end saw ended its ap- pointed task.” ” It is a fashion in a certain tearcom in New York to serve small pitchers of melted 1 sugar ‘with iced tea. Cream of Asparagus Soup. ‘A rich cream of asparagus soup is made as follows: Boil a bunch of ass paragus, rub through a sieve, and add a quart of diluted chicken stock, made by boiling the carcass of a chicken— the beaten yolks of two eggs, a cupful of cream, salt, and white pepper. Strain before sending to the table. Stewed Cucumbers. Stewed cucumbers are not nearly as well known as they should be. © The flavor is very delicate, and often puz- zles the uninitiated to know exactly what vegetable is being eaten. The cucumbers are peeled amd quartered, and the pieces cut crosswise three times. Stew in salted water and cook until tender. Drain and serve in a thin, white sauce. Potato Soup. A very fine potato soup is made by adding a quart of scalded milk, in which several slices of onion have been steeped to two cupfuls of mashed po- tato. Soften, not melt, a large table- spoonful of butter, and mix with it an equal quantity of flour. Add salt, pep- per, and a dash of celery salt, and pour gradually, stirring all the time, into the milk and potato mixture. Sprinkle a little finely mixed parsley on top. Serve with buttered crutons. Russian Jelly. Dissolve half a box of gelatine in a little water, add to it a cupful of sweet milk and a cupful of sugar, boil for three minutes, then remove from the fire and set away to cool. Prepare a lemon jelly by dissolving the other half box of the gelatine in a few spoon- fuls of water and the juice of four lemons; when dissolved, strain, turn into ‘2 mould and set away to cool; just before the first of the mixtures is fully hardened, add to it a pint of whipped cream with the whites of four eggs, turn this over the jelly and serve in loaf fashion, cutting in slices. A Delicious Soup. Cream of lettuce, peas, asparagus, or even potatoes make a delicious hot- weather soup, when served in cups with a spoonful of whipped cream on top. These soups are very easy to make, yet are very seldom served exactly right—neither too thick nor too thin. All cream soups have as their basis the chosen vegetable cooked until very soft and put through a strainer. Dilute with scalded milk, or with stock and milk, and season. At the last moment mix a roux of flour and butter, and thin with a part of the soup. Stir the thinned roux into the soup to bind it, as otherwise there is danger of the vegetables separating from the soup. A cream soup should not be a thick, pasty broth, but a deli- cate, cream-like liquid. Household Hints. All vegetables keep better in a low temperature. ‘Wash white marble with clear water and a soft brush, Drippings from a candle can be taken out of cloth by ether. Keep all pieces of clean tissue paper, no matter how crinkled, to polish mir- rors and windows. To prevent dryness, a ham should be left in the water in which it is boiled until perfectly cold. By covering the bottom of a bureau or chiffonier with a sheet of tin or zinc protection from mice is secured. It is said that a sound, ripe apple placed in the tin cake box will keep the cakes from drying or crumbling. A feather brush is preferable to a cloth for dusting gilt picture frames, as the cloth wears and deadens the gilt, An old tin teakettle with the bottom cut out makes an excellent cover to place over iron heating on gas or gaso- line stoves. Starch and iron wide lamp wicks and wicks for oil stoves. They will not then cause trouble in fitting them into the burners. Until the plumber can come, a leak can be temporarily stopped with a mixture of yellow soap, whiting and a very little water. Do not. wash the wooden breadplate in hot water and it will not turn black. Wash with scap and warm water, and rinse in clean cold water. Always wash off the top of the milk bottle before removing the little paper cap, since it is by the top that the de- livery man always lifts the bottle. Clean out closets and bureaus with turpentine water and use generous proportions of the turpentine. It’s a good ounce of prevention against moths. In giving medicine to a baby place the point of a spoon against the roof of hi® mouth. Administered in this way, the child cannot choke or eject the medicine. Clean springs and woodwork of beds carefully, going over joints and ends of slats and every crevice with corro- sive sublimate, by way of guarding against possible dust creatures. Spread pu of soft rag and pla his on bandage with a a ba: the injured re Salted lard on a bit a cut ang Subje Bos serm . Rev. “The was are t right —Ma “Bl . thirs shall that grate gives and and may give Like are ] and 1 of G He us li of tl ¢ the natu Like denc omm healt : our and splen In tl fami vious ual may hear force ing hb 1 ago, slope to th clear the perh Haste have that Did had that
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers