LITTLE HOUSE O’' DREAMS.
© little house with windows wide
A-looking toward the sea!
How have you come—why have you come
To mean so much to me?
Xour walls within my heart are raised,
And, oh, how strange it seems,
My hopes but measure to your roof,
O little house ¢’ dreams!
O little place where friends will core,
The tangled world to flee; pu :
Brave little nook where peace will bide,
And hospitality!
Pray where's the magic wand 1 need
To touch your slender beams,
And change you to a home in truth,
O little house o’ dreams?
§ —Ciaire Wallace Flynn, in Ainslee’s Maga zine.
aaa aaa esa lf
rrr TYR eTY
‘The Beetle of the Mandarin
By Vera L. Connolly.
2 a ma un .a.n aR
rrr TIRE r Ley
#|
-
John Harriman, American Consul at
Shanghai, lay back in his chair and
stretched his feet toward the blaze.
Without, the snow fell ceaselesly.
Its large, whirling flakes setttled on
the sedan chairs, the wheels of the
rickshas and the shoulders of the cool-
ies.
The tall buildings beyond the consu-
late grounds were outlined in soft,
gleaming white. A large covered
chair, held by three coolies, was car-
ried up the path to the door of the con-
sulate.
Harriman aroused himself as one
coolie entered with lights and another
announced the presence of the great
La Luang. The ceremony of greeting
over with, the old mandarin seated
himself and drew his chair to the fire.
The consul waited courteously for
him to explain his errand, but the old
man remained silent, his eyes fixed on
the leaping fiames.
His robe of gray silk, fur-lined and
embroidered in gold and scarlet but-
terflies, caught the light and shim-
mered with each movement. It sur-
passed anything the American had
ever seen.
“We are having bad weather,” ven-
tured the consul.
“Yes. Shanghai is wrapped in snow,
while Canton is gay with butterflies
and flowers. But what can we expect?
Is this not China?’ With an express-
ive wave of the hand.
The young consul, comprehending
the Chinese character, and knowing
the old mandarin well, waited for him
to continue the conversation. At last
the other turned slowly, and fixed his
black eves on the consul’s face.
“I have come to ask you a favor.
I very seldom ask favors.”
Harriman bowed. ‘I place myself at
your service,” he replied.
The mandarin spoke quietly.
“I have traced the jewels.”
“Ah! that is good news. And you
have found the thief?’ The Ameri-
can looked up with interest.
“There was no thief,” Lu
spoke quietly.
“What! No thief!”
“] say they were not stolen.”
The consul hid his surprise as best
he could. Lm Luang looked languidly
around him.
“We are alone?”
“Certainly.”
“Then I shall explain. For my
own reasons it was ‘best to report
them stolen. They were taken away
—by the thieving hands of Lu Luang.
Do you follow me?”
The consul bowed gravely.
have sold them?”
“Yes, I needed a great deal of
money. Work is impossible. for a
Chinese nobleman. I therefore was
forced to sell the jewels of my ances-
tors to obtain this sum. I shall some
day recover them. They are safe.
They brought to me a vast sum.”
“Undoubtedly.” At this juncture
the servant entered with liqueurs, and
after he had departed the old man
continued.
“By mistake our household token
and treasure, the beetle of the house
of Luang, was sold with the lot. “It is
a small piece of feather jewelry, in it-
self almost valueless, but necessary to
the welfare of our family. As I knew
not that it was kept with the jewels, I
did not miss it. The fury of the gods
has descended upon us. My son s dy-
ing. The beetle must be recovered.”
Harirman rose with an expression
of sympathy, and crossing over to the
old mandarin, stood before him.
“Cannot the physicians help your
son?”
The old Chinaman shock his head.
“Medical help can do nothing for him.
The token must be recovered. It was
a gift of the gods to my forefathers.
‘We have provoked their anger, and
my son’s life is dependent on their
good pleasure.”
The dignity and sincerity of the
stately old man deeply impressed the
the American.
“Can’t you recover the emblem from
the purchaser of your jewels?”
“No, he has sold it. But wait. I do
know where it is. He sold it to the
mandarin, Gum Sag Lee. He, in turn,
has placed it in the hands of Song
Wen, the auctioneer, in Canton, to be
sold at auction in four days.”
“Can’t you buy it back before the
auction takes place?”
“No. Song Wen has been instructed
not to sell the jewel to me. Gum Sag
Tee will publicly buy it back at the
auction. That will clear him of any
underhand method of acquiring it.”
“Can’t you over-bid him?”
“No. My tael are few. His are
many. I am an old man. He will sue-
ceed me, if my son lives not. My son’s
life is dependent on the recovery of
the beetle. Don’t you understand?”
“Yes. He must be stopped. Why
not appeal to the law?”
“No, no. It must never be known
that the jewels of the house of Luang
were sold. It would mean everlasting
disgrace.”
“Is there no way?”
“Yes. I think there is one way; if
you will recover it for me. At my ap
Luang
“You
den. I must pretend ignorance of its
whereabouts. You, a foreigner and a
stranger to Canton, could enter the
shop where the things are exhibited
and, seeing it, offer to purchase it.
Will you do this for me?”
The American stretched out his
hand. “I am glad I can do something
for you. It will not inconvenience
me in the least, as I had planned to
run up to Canton on Monday. How
much shall I offer for it?”
The mandarin drew a purse from his
sleeve and handed it to the consul.
“It is all I have. If necessary use
the last tael.” He rose as he spoke
and walked to the door. His coolies
were summoned, and soon his chair
was in readiness.
He drew the gonsul back into
hall and embraced him. .
“My good friend,” he said, ‘from to-
morrow morning the Chang Rcad is
open to American merchants. Good-
bye.”
“Thank you, Luang. Good-bye.”
The consul stood watching the chair
until it disappeared behind the trees.
Then his care-worn face lighted up.
“l am very glad. No more driving
through the old cemetery. The fever
will be greatly lessened this summer.”
He closed the door and went back to
his study to arrange his affairs for the
morning start.
Four days later, in the early morn-
ing, a little steamer nosed her way up
the Pearl River toward the city of
Canton.
The river was alive with boats and
noisy with gabble of rival merchants
as they poled their cumbersome junks
through the throngs of houseboats, for
which Canton is famous. These con-
sisted of samrans roofed over in one
place by a matting, and indescribably
dirty. They were usually propelled by
women and children, while their lords
and masters smoked luxuriously in the
stern.
John Harriman stood on the steam-
er’s deck, watching them shove from
under the boat’s prow barely in time
to escape being. swamped. They
closed the steamer in on either side as
a huge ice pack might. Scarce a
square foot of water could be seen be-
tween them.
Occasional splotches of color marked
the progress of a flower-boat, for
these heathenish relics of former days
are still to be seen on the Pearl River.
The whole scene was full of life. Even
the boats themselves, with their care-
fully painted eyes, their graceful
prows and flapping sails, resembled
huge brown birds.
Soon the endless string of house-
boats gave place to a long wharf, from
which narrow, irregular streets ran
back, lined on either side by shops, on
through the old city of the dead to the
great Tartar Wall—this was Canton.
As the steamer made fast to the pier
amid a great clanging of bells and
cries of chairmen, the coolies poured
from the lower deck, and soon the con-
sul’s chair was in readiness for him.
He gave a few directions and the cool-
ies trotted up the principal street,
which was so narrow that the hang-
ings of the chairs almost brushed the
shops on either side.
Overhead the roofs jutted out to with-
in a few inches of each other, making
the street look like a narrow hallway.
The shops were open to the street,
and their owners could be seen within
arranging their display, or seated be-
side their counters, smoking. In the
meat shops, rats, ducks and chou-dosgs,
dried and cured, were strung from the
ceiling.
Everywhere the American’s chair
was followed by sulky, scowling
glances. Once, meeting another chair,
the consul’s coolies were forced to
back into a neighboring shop in order
that the others could pass.
After twenty minutes of such travel,
the chair halted before a shop more
pretentious than most of them, and
presided over by a large Chinaman,
who hurried to the door as the consul
entered.
“] am honored. How can I serve
you?’ He bowed deeply before the
American.
Harriman glanced at the bare little
shop in surprise.
the
“] must have made a mistake. I am
searching for Song Wen, the auc-
tioneer.”
“I am he.”
“I wish to see the articles to be sold
at Wednesday’s auction.”
“Certainly. Follow me.” Song
drew aside a hanging at the back of
the shop and they passed into a long
room, dimly lighted by two brass
lamps suspended from above. It was
crowded with furniture, brasses, cloi-
sonne jars, ivories, fans, embroidered
+ hangings and trays of jade and uncut
stones.
The American paused in the midst
of all this splendor, while the mer-
chant lighted several lamps, which
flared up brightly.
“You have heard of the ivories? No?
They are very beautiful.” He led the
way to a large black cabinet, on which
the gleaming pieces were s'rikingly
arranged.
proach all signs of it weuld be hid-
He picked up the carving of a tiny,
half-open peach; in which a child
nestled. Every feature of the infant's
face was perfectly represented; the
peach itself was without a flaw, and
all of it was no larger than a marble.
“Beautiful!’’ Harriman stepped to
the light and examined it.
Song Wen quietly named the auc-
tion price. x x
“Sell it to me now?”
“No. Nothing's to be sold until the
auction next Wednesday.”
“I will come then.”
The auctioneer smiled and led him
from one fascinating heap to another.
Finally he stopped at a black cabinet
and, with a quick push, a secret
drawer sprang out. On a“ silk’ pad
glittered a half-dozen uncit -stones,
blue and red. a
As the consul bent over. thé'Box, the
purpose of his visit eame back to him.
“They are certainly beautiful: But,
have you no feather ornaments? I
am greatly interested.in -the :feather
jewelry.”
The auctioneer jerked out a. large
drawer with a look of disgust at such
plebeian taste, and leaving the Ameri-
can ‘to look them over, he turned back
to close the drawer of jewels.
Harriman bent down over the orna-
ments eagerly. The half light dis-
played a collection of pins, armlets
and earrings. There were insects,
flowers and birds, mounted in steel,
and gleaming red, blue and purple.
In the very front of the drawer lay
a tiny green object. He bent closer.
A sharp metallic click started him,
and he straightened up. It was prob-
ably the charms on his watch chain
striking against the ornaments in the
drawer.
“I'll have to take them closer to the
light.” He moved across to the lamp
and examined the contents of the
drawer minutely.
The red and purple bees and butter-
flies stared back at him from their
cushion of cotton. There was not one
green ornament in the box. He ut-
tered an exclamation of disappoint-
ment. '
Going back to the cabinet he at
tempted to rerlace the drawer. It
stuck, and while he was jerking at it,
Song Wen came over to him.
“Never mind that. I'll replace it.
Have you found anything you admire
particularly?”
“No.” Harriman moved to the door,
carefully stepping past a pair of tall
ox-blood jars, pased under the hanging
and into the bare little shop, the auc-
tioneer following.
His coolies awaited him at the door.
“You will come again? On Wednes-
day, perhaps?” the auctioneer asked.
“Yes. Good-day.
“Good-day.” Song Wen stood bow-
ing in the doorway until the chair had
turned a sharp corner and the last
coolie disappeared. Then he entered
the shop and passed under the hang-
ing into the long, dark room. The
tray lay as he had left it a moment
before. He carried it to the light and
began to arrange the articles on the
cotton pad. Ae
Suddenly he jumped back, Bis olive
face paling. “The green bettle! It is
not here! I am ruined! I am ruined!”
He stood there a minute, mumbling’
to himself. Then, calling to a coolie,
he hurried into the shop and on down
the street, calling excitedly as he ran.
Meanwhile, John Harriman lay back
on his cushions, tired and disappoint-
ed. He had failed to. obtain the one
tiny object on which the health of all
the American residents of ‘Shanghai
had rested. For he knew well that in
case he did not rcover the beetle Lu
Luang would again close the Chang
Road to American merchants. Again
they would be compelled to use the
old Cemetery Road, in which fever
was always lurking for its prey.
Suddenly a shrill cry came from be-
hind him somewhere; then a babel of
voices; theh the sound of a crowd of
people running.
“Fire,” he thought. Leaning from
the car he called to the coolies, “Hurry
up.”
They began to run.
gerous proceeding in Canton. As the
heavy chair lumbered through the
streets, the Chinese ran to their doors,
scowling.
He leaned from the window and
looked out. The wharf lay directly
ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Just then the cries from W¥ehind be-
came clearer. 8°
«“Thief—Stealer—Red-haired devil—
the green eyes! There he is:« Yahai!”
He looked back. A terrifying sight
met his eyes.
‘Around the corner
swung a Chinese mob, with faces dis-
torted, howling as they ran, and point-
ing at him.
“yahai! Give us the green beetle.
Stealer!” At sight of his face the
cries broke out afresh.
“Stealer. Kill him!”
He sank back, weak and sick. These
men were accusing him of some imagi-
nary theft that they might mob him
and steal what money they could find
in his clothes. Arguing with them
were worse than useless. The desire
to kill had made beasts of them.
Most of them did not even know what
they were running for. .
If they searched him they would find
that vast sum he had in his purse, and
It was a dan-
which he could never repay to Lu
Luang.
No. He must make the steamer.
The chair was swaying back and forth
striking the shop signs on either side,
and sending them spinning. He
looked ahead. The steamer lay at the
dock, not two blocks away. Suddenly
ther@ came a blinding crash, and he
was thrown forward on his face. The
chair was motionless.
He leaped out. His coolies were
running down the street. They uad
deserted him. Behind came the mob.
A huge man holding a knife was al-
most upon him.
‘limbs felt dull and heavy.
behind him’
‘Stealer.
Turning,
Kil”
he ran down the street.
Behind him he heard his pursuers,
as their wooden shoes clattered on
the rough cobbles. He heard their in-
sane howling. “Kill. Yahai! Kill!”
He shuddered and ran faster, his
head down and his arms swinging.
Crashing suddenly into some one ap-
pro&iching, he fell to the ground. He
struggled to his feet and ran on down
the. narrow street, past open shops,
stumbling ‘over the cobble stones.
Still the icries behind grew nearer
and nearer. He looked up. There lay
the “steamer, beyond the next corner.
It had not gone yet. He must make it!
“Kill!” Something struck him in
the arm and glanced off. He stooped,
picked up the knife, and plunged on
again. :
His breath was coming in gasps. His
As he
passed the last corner, he staggered
across the square to the line of chairs
and: rickshas. If only these men did
not stop him he would be safe.
But the cries from behind had pre-
ceded him. A couple of ricksha men
sprang at him. He dodged them only
to meet a third. Striking out right
and left with his knife, he ran on.
The steamer rail was lined with
anxious faces. ‘Be quick, man! For
God’s sake, be quick.” He reeled
across the wharf and stretched out his
arms. They dragged him-on board
and the steamer put out into the
stream.
Just in time. A rain of missiles
caused the pasengers to flee in terror
to the other side of the boat.
The infuriaed mob, reaching the ves-
sel a second too late, sprang into the
houseboats. Leaping from one to the
other, they attempted to scale the sides
of he steamer. Failing of this, they
aimed knives a the windows, and the
crashing of glass, mingled with their
cries and curses, were the last sounds
to be heard as the little steamer pur-
sued its way up the river.
After John Harriman had been taken
to his cabin and made comfortable,
the messengers left him to rest. He
tossed back and forth restlessly, tco
tired to sleep.”
‘My! But that was a close shave!
That confounded bug has caused more
trouble than a nest of spiders. I won-
der what time it is?”
He reached over to where his clothes
lay piled on a chair by the berth and
drew out his watch with its dangling
charms.
“I say confound the thing.” He
dropped the watch on the bed with a
cry of dismay. “Am I losing my senses
over it?”
He sat up again, his eyes starting
from his head. For there, stuca tight
to a toy magnet suspended from his
chain, and blinking at him with iis
round, beady eyes, was a tiny green
beetle.
He stared at it a minute longer.
Then, throwing himself back against
the pillows, he burst into a roar of
laughter:
“They had a right to chase me. I
am a red-haired stealer with green
eyes, after all.”—Good Literature.
ENRICHING THE SOIL.
Bacteria as a Wonderful Aid to the
Farmer—Using the Air.
Under the prosaic title of “The Bac-
terial Life of the Soil” Dr. G. H. Earp
Thomas of New Zealand, told the most
enchanting fairy story at the Ameri-
can Institute, Nos. 19 and 21 West
44th street. He brought the fairies
with him, too, and passed them round
the room in bottles. They were not
much to look at, it must be confessed.
They had no wings nor wands nor any
of the traditional appurtenances of
the elfin tribe, but when it comes to
working miracles the fairy godmother
isn’t in it.
These bottled fairies bore a rather
ill omened name, one that is popular-
ly associated only with’ disease and
death. They were in fact, bacteria.
But there are bacteria and bacteria it
seems, just as there are good fairies
and bad ones, and these are as be-
neficent as the fairy godmother, and,
like that personage, have come to our
rescue in the hour of our direst need.
“The situation is this,” Dr. Thomas
explained. The most important ele-
ment of the soil is nitrogen, and this
is rapidly used up by our present meth-
ods of farming. It may be put back
by means of manures and nitrate cf
soda, but this is very expensive, and,
moreover, the nitrate of soda is being
rapidly used up, just as guano was
used up. Thus we are rapidly ap-
proaching a precipice, and unless
something happens it is only a ques-
tion of time when we shall reach it.”
, This limit was placed at twenty-five
years by the chairman, George Pow-
ell, in introducing the speaker.
But something has already happen-
ed. This is the discovery of a microbe,
which, acting on the roots of legumi-
nous plants, has the power of taking
nitrogen from the illimitable suprly of
the air. Plants grown from seeds in-
oculated with this microbe contain 100
percent more nitrogen than those un-
innoculated, and have the ground so
rich that another crop can ge grown
upon it without a fertilizer.
The United States government has
been supplying these bacteria to the
farmers in a dormant state upon cot-
ton, but their use has been attended
with considerable uncertainty. They
were often devoid of life, Dr. Thomas
said, before they reached the farmer,
and they required from ome to four
days’ development under conditions to
which the farmer could or would not
conform.
The government is now beginning to
put them up in bottles, and in this
way they can be sent all over the world
without injury to their usefulness.—
New York Tribune.
*rr The Men Who ital
“Had Money but Lost It’
By Orison Swett Marden.
Loner pone AU Y
S PROMINENT New York lawyer of wide experience says
that. in his opinion, ninety-nine out of every hundred of
those who make money or inherit it,.lose it, sooner or later.
How many thousands of good, honest men and women
there are in this country who have worked very hard and
8 all sorts of sacrifices of comfort and luxury in order to lay
up something for the future, and yet have reached middle
life or later without having anything to show for it; many.
of them, indeed, finding themselves without a home or any,
probability of getting one, without property or a cent of money laid by for
sickness, for the inevitable emergency, or for their declining years!
For the sake of vour home, for the protection of hard earnings, for your
peace of mind, your self-respect, your self-confidence whatever else you do,
do not neglect a good, solid business training, and get it as early in life as
possible. It will.save you from mgny a fall, from a thousand embarrassments,
and, perhaps, from the humiliation of being compelled to face your wife and
children and confess that you have been a failure. It may save you from
the mortification of having to move from a good home to a poor one, of see-
ing your property slip out of your hands, and of having to acknowledge your
weakness and your lack of foresight and thoughtfulness, or your being made
the ‘dupe of sharpers. ¥
Many men who once ‘had good stores of their own, are working as clerks,
floorwalkers, or superintendents of departments in other people’s stores, just
because they risked and lost everything in some venture. As they now have
others depending on them, they do not dare to take the risks which they took
in young manhcod, and so they struggle along in mediocre positions, still
mocked with ambitions which they have no chance to gratify.
Thousands of people who were once in easy circumstances are living in
poverty and wretchedness today because they failed to put an understanding
or an agreement in writing, or to do business in a business way. Families
have been turned out of house and home, penniless, because they trusted
to a relative or a friend to “do what was right” by them, without making
a hard and fast, practical business arrangement with him.
It does not matter how honest people are, they forget, and it is so easy
for misunderstandings to arisé that it is never safe to leave anything of im-
portance to a mere statement. Reduce ‘it to writing. It costs but little, in
time or money, and when all parties interested are agreed, that is the best
time to formulate the agreement in exact terms. This will often save lawsuits,
bitterness, and alienations. How many friendships have been broken by not
putting understandings in writing. Thousands of cases are in the courts to-~
day because agreements were not put in writing. A large part of lawyers’ in-
comes is derived from the same source.
Business talent is as rare as a talent for mathematics. We find boys and
girls turned out of school and college full of ' theories, and of all sorts of
knowledge or smatterings of knowledge, but without ability to protect them-
selves from human thieves who are trying to get something for nothing. No
girl or boy should be allowed to graduate, especially from any of the higher
institutions, without being well grounded in practical business methods.
Parents who send their children out in life, without seeing that they are
well versed in ordinary business principles, do them an incalculable injustice.
—Success Magazine.
0000000000000 00000000060000
Bape teal font efron
Good and Bad Features
..of..
International Marriages
The Rev. Dr. R. 5. MacArthur.
hd flonan
& begepezetedoed P ECENT newspaper reports of married troubles between
% titled foreigners and American women who have become their
k wives fill the hearts of all true Americans with mingled pity
, and humiliation. That some of these marriages are most
* happy is quite certain; some of them, without the slightest.
. doubt, are true love matches. There is also political, finan-
p cial, and social gain at times in these international mar-
b riages. Some American women have exercised much political
influence in Great Britain and in other countries beyond
»
’
*
4
$
9
s
#
[
4
the sea.
They have carried American democratic ideas with them into ancient
much toward the Americanization of Great Britain. They have really been,
in a number of cases, the power behind the political thrones. At the great
and honor second only to that filled by the Queen of Great Britain. She
honored America and was a benediction to India and to the British Empire:
at large.
Unfortunately,
international matches. Mrs. Hammersley, at whose marriage I refussd to
officiate. was the first American woman to carry great wealth with her to
England when she became the wife of the Duke of Marlborough. Several
other women since have given their husbands much wealth in return for
the little they have received.
Some American women have paid an enormously high price for their
titles. There is a type of Americans fonder of titles than are the people:
of the old world. Boasting of their democratic ideas, they will do more to
secure a foreign title than Europeans would do. What is the price these
American women and their ambitious fathers and mothers are willing to pay
for titles? Some time ago during a famine in Russia we read that many poor
peasants sold their daughters with which to buy bread. This announcement
shocked the civilized world. American parents have done more and worse
than did these starving peasants. American girls have sold their woman-
hood, their country, their language, and their religion for husbands whp are
peculiarly contemptible cads and altogether worthless, although having an-
cient titles. :
That it is a matter of sale and purchase cannot be doubted.
abominable transactions bring the blush to the cheek of every honorable
American man and woman. Recent events in England and France are a re-
proach to noble manhood and true womanhood on both sides of the Sea.
Some of these titled foreigners deserve and receive the contempt of all true
American men and women. How can these women so far forget a worthy
and religious American ancestry as to forswear the religion “of their fathers
and the country of their own birth?
These
*
0000000000000000000000006¢
aa Rl
A Friendly Deadlock
By J. O. Fagan.
efron mprpcmaniv ey
HEN peorle are killed, when property is wrecked, we have
nothing to say. It is for the management to figure out rea-
sons and remedies. Of course, as individuals, we are in-
terested and sorry when accidents happen, but personally
we do not bestir ourselves, nor do we call upon our organiza-
tions to bestir themselves in the matter. We simply stand
pat on our rights. If a prominent railroad man is ques-
tioned on the subject of railroad accidents, he will shrug his
shoulders and say, “Human nature.” So far as he is con-
cerned, railroad men are to be protected, not criticized. If you turn to the
management your errand will be equally fruitless. The superintendent will
have little to say. Generally speaking, he has no fault to find with the men
and the men have little fault to find with him. This seems to be a tacit under-
standing in the interests of harmony. It being impossible to move without
treading on somebody’s toes, by all means let us remain motionless. As for
the public interests, they must shift for themselves. Consequently, in place
of earnest co-operation in the interests of efficiency and improved service
%
there is something in the nature of a friendly deadlock between men ang
management.—The Atlantic.
palaces; they have helped shape policies of political parties, and have done:
Durbar in India, an American woman, Lady Curzon, filled a place of power
there are other types of women who have contracted
oa
besids
the sl
The F
Monts
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