IT.
The Earth Is floating Mte a little ball In such proportions do both stretch and
Upon thin air and on its back sprawl,
man; And all around, above, about, below,
Eince that strange chaos from which all Are other bubbles dancing on the air:
began Some million billions, rolling here and there,
Bo hath it bobbed sea, mountain, man, And on their shells more men, or all we
et al; know,
Tet not a one hath ever had a fall, Yet, in this scheme stupendous, our great
Though land and water, envious of wit
place, Saith, once for all Man and his Earth
Have shifted often, leaving little trace, are IT.
Lurana W. Sheldon, in the New York Times.
The Further Research of Wickham.
By RITA
Thomas Henry Wickham was good
looking, Intellectual and twenty
eight. He had always considered
girls unworthy of attention, and had
devoted his time to research In old
Gothic.
To be sure, once or twice during
the year he had taught in the West-
ern university he had accepted Invita
tions to places of amusement where
ladies were present. But that was be
cause, It being leap-year, the ladies
had done the honors, and Miss Eu
genia Harned, Instructor in French,
was not a young woman to be re
fused. Now the year was over and he
was off for his home In Boston, glad
to be free from Western crudeness
forever. He had planned to leave on
the evening train for Chicago, where
be would Join an excursion going past
Niagara and Toronto, .down the Hud
eon, arriving at Boston in three days.
He flushed with pleasure as he bade
the president good-by. The old man
was saying with admiration: "Good
work, my boy. You are doing well
to be called back to Harvard after one
year of teaching, and I wish you suc
tess." Wickham was still blushing
as he left the office and ran Into Fan
shaw, fellow In English, and Jenks,
Of the philosophy department.
"Hello!" Jenks said. "They tell
ine you're leaving to-day?"
"Yes," Wickham announced; "I go
cut on the 10.30."
"Why," laughed Fanshaw, "Miss "
he suddenly choked "we'll be down
to see you off," he finished lamely.
Wickham, absorbed In the business
of getting out of town, walked off
through the campus, unconscious of
the winks and nods of the two men in
front of the executive office.
He reached the station barely In
time that night, and found the plat
form crowded with men of the
younger university set and young
women, among them Miss Eugenia
Harned. Apparently they were down
to see him off, and Wickham was flat
tered. He had never thought much
of popularity, but It this was posing
In the public eye he liked it. The
train thundered In and he climbed
aboard, after several of the young
women, Including Miss Harned, had
preceded him. Some of the men fol
lowed, and when he got Inside he
saw a whole host of them coming
from the other end of the Pullman.
His heart warmed. He had never
considered himself a general favorite
before, and the thought pleased him.
Something was flying through the
air like confetti on a fete night. The
passengers in the other sections were
all looking toward his end of the car
and laughing uproariously. As he
dropped his traveling bag on the seat
an old shoe, thrown through the air,
glanced off his sleeve. He turned and
saw Miss Harned, the French Instruc
tor, in the opposite section, sur
rounded by bags and suit cases. She
was blushing furiously and looked
vexed. Wickham thought she was
going to cry. He opened bis mouth to
apeak. Something bit against his
testh and he bit on it. It was white
and hard, like a kernel. He saw that
It was sprinkled over seats, people
and traveling bags, and that the floor
was peppered with it. Someone at
the door called out, "Where's the
bride?" The bell rang, the train be
gan to move and the young people
all scuttled.
The train was getting well under
way as Wickham stepped out on the
platform and slammed the door be
hind him.
Jenks and Fanshaw, returning
from the station arm in arm, were
rendered speechless by the apparition
of Wickham coming toward them
from the second corner.
"Why why what's the matter?"
stammered Jenks.
"Nothing," returned Wickham; "I
Just came down to meet you. I'm
going out on the morning train," be
announced. "The lady is 'more com
fortable so,." and, turning, be walked
with them up the street.
He barely made an east-bound train
out of Chicago the following after
noon, and was walking down the aisle
looking for a seat when he stopped
abort, staring blankly. There before
him sat Miss Eugenia Harned, look
ing very pretty, in a cool brown and
gold dress. Strange, he had never
thought her pretty before! She was
smiling at him In a timid way. He
pulled off his hat and sat down in the
aeat facing the one which she occu
pied. "Miss Harned," he gasped; "this is
Indeed unexpected."
"I'm sorry If you regret meeting
me again." Her long lashes swept
. her cheek as she looked down. Then
be glanced up at the man glaring
discomfited at her. "But I'm glad I
have a chance to tell you how unut
terably mean you were to leave me
in that situation last night."
. "Why, Miss Harned " Wickham
was growing more uncomfortable
very moment; "I couldn't do any
thing else. If I had stayed on thoy
would have believed
KELLEY.
"It was true. Exactly," she finished
for him. "And they did. I spent half
the night explaining that you had
dropped off to save yourself from
false accusation."
"But, Miss Harned, I tried to save
you!" Wickham was flushing in his
effort to Justify himself.
"Well, you dldn'tj" she announced,
looking him steadily in the eyes.
"They decided you had been kid
naped, and they are all on tiptoe to
see you make this train."
"Here now?" Wickham looked
around him. "Are these the same
people?" he asked, with a blank ex
pression. "Yes," she said; "the excursion
train was held over for twelve hours
by a freight, and they are all bound
for Boston."
Wickham groaned. Miss Harned
settled herself in the extreme corner
of her seat and looked steadily at the
flying scenery. Wickham took to
studying her face, because there was
nothing else to do.
"Three whole days of this," he
thought, and he decided to move on
into the smoker. He made some at
tempt to excuse himself without at-
Matthew
- AND
t
3 9
$ $
Benjamin
ON THE RIGHTS
9 ... .
Mattnew Arnold says
' Inequality, like absolutism, thwarts a vital instinct, nml being thus
against nature, is against our huraanization. A system founded on it is
against nature, and in the long run breaks down.
And again he says:
"Democracy is trying to affirm its own essence; to live, to enjoy, to
possess the world. Ever since Europe emerged from barbarism, ever since
the condition of the common people began a little to improve, ever since
their minds began to stir, this effort of democracy has been gaining
strength; and the more their condition improves, the more strength this
effort gains.
"Our shortcomings in civilization are due to our inequality; or, in
other words, the.great inequality of classes and property, which came to us
from the Middle Age, and which we maintain because we have the religion
of inequality, this constitution of things has the natural and necessary
effect of materializing our upper class, vulgarizing our middle class, and bru
talizing our lower class. And this is to fail in civilization. We are trying
to live on with a social organization of which the day is over."
And then there was serene old Benjamin Jowett, who pauses
In hiB analysis of Plato's "Republic" to ask:
"Are we quite sure that the received notions of property are the
best? Can the spectator of time and all existence be quite convinced that
one or two thousand years hence great chnnges Will not have taken place
in the rights of property, or even that the very notion of property beyond
what is necessary for personal maintenance niRy not have disappeared?
The reflection will occur that the stnte of society can hardly be final in
which the interests of thousands are periled on the life and character of a
single person. And many will indulge the hope that the state in which we
live will be only transitional, and may conduct to a higher state, in which
property, besides ministering to the enjoyment of the few, may also furnish
the means o the highest culture to all, and will be a greater benefit to the
fublic generally, and also more under the control of public authority,
here may come a time when the saying, 'Have I not a right to do what I
will with my own?' may appear to be a barbarous relic of individualism."
From Collier's Weekly.
9-99Jr9-99-9'9-
trading the attention of the passen
gers, but she ignored him. He fell
to wondering if she would forgive
him for the embarrassment of the
evening before, and remembered that
he bad not asked for pardon. She
seemed unconscious of his gaze, and
he watched the sensitive outlines of
her face vary in expression. Iteally,
she was very interesting. The brown
of her dress Just matched the sheen
of her hair and eyes. He found him
self adjusting bis panama on bis
blond head, squaring his shoulders
that had been broadened by rowing
In the Harvard crew. It only they
had not been thrust together under
such trying circumstances! He met
her eyes and looked at her till she
spoke.
"And you are such a woman-hater,
tnn n aha Kftld.
"Oh, but I'm not!" He flashed itout
and smiled dazzllngly at her to see
she light In her eyes. Truly, Wick
ham was waking up. "Some women,
perhaps; but certainly not of you."
"Oh, your husband has found you,
I see!" exclaimed a thin, little voice.
And Wickham turned to see a moth
erly person beaming upon tbem with
kindly eyes. He bent toward Miss
Harned with the least bit ot a wicked
gleam, in his eyes.
"We'll have to stick it out to the
end," he said.
'."To Boston," she corrected.
"Madam, won't you be seated?"
He rose and bowed gravely to the odd
little person in a brown alpaca dress.
She slipped 'into the seat shyly, her
thin, worn bands fingering a pleat
down the front ot her dress. Her
eyes redeemed her plain face; they
grew large and almost wistful as they
looked at Miss Harned.
"You must be so happy," she said,
her vclce lingering ovr the words.
Eugenia Harnsd flushed crimson.
"Pardon m!," the little woman
hastened to add. "I know just how
you feel; it is all so new and won
derful. And you can't hardly realize
that it is all true yet that you've
got each other." She looked from
Mist Harned to Wickham. That
wicked person returned the glance
steadily and smiled.
"Exactly," he agreed.
"I remember when John and I
wera married," iht continued, "wt
went from Meadowville to Chicago
on our wedding trip." She smiled
reminlscently. "That isn't such a
nice one as yours " Eugenia
squirmed in her seat by the window.
She threw Wickham a glance that
should have softened his heart, but it
didn't.
"Are you going to live in BoBton?"
the little woman was questioning.
And Wickham, with a charming bow,
acknowledged that they were.
He looked at Miss Harned. He de
cided all at once that he wanted a
smoke. He bowed himself off as
smoothly and as quickly as possible.
By the time he had reached the
smoker he had forgotten all about
cigars. His face betrayed unusual
perturbation of mind, and he adjusted
his bat several times before it rested
entirely to his satisfaction. He was
conscious that he bad gone too far
with Miss Harned, and he had the
uncomfortable thought 'that she
would never forgive him. And
through all he knew he should be
proud of Miss Harned if she were ac
tually his wife.
His wife! The mere thought had
all the flavor of wildest romance. To
the man's man to a digger of old
Gothic roots the first realization of
femininity as a potent force in life
struck him broadside with a force
that made him gasp. His wife! Why
not? He started up with his chin out,
a full light of determination in his
eye he would go and ask her now.
And he swung down the aisle.
Miss Harned was being entertained
by the little woman in the brown al
paca dress. She looked tired and
cross, and a red spot glowed in either
cheek,. He Ignored the little woman,
who looked up brightly at him, but
went on talking, and, leaning over
toward Miss Harned, he said steadily:
"Come on out here; I want to talk
with you."
She threw him a glance that was
half scorn, half entreaty.
"Then they all got the measles and
6
f
-99
4
a
Arnold
-
Jowett,
OF PROPERTY.
eee----"-- 9
Johnny took the whooping cough "
Miss Harned Bhot to her feet and was
crowding into the aisle before the
amazed little woman could finish her
sentence; hut Wickham bent over
and looked into the hurt, brown eyes.
"Thank you," he said, gently, let
ting his Angers sweep over her worn
hand. "We'll be back presently," and
he strode after Miss Harned, overtak
ing her on the platform.
"I am sorry, Miss Harned," he said,
taking hold ot her arm and closing
the door at the same time. She con
fronted him with angry eyes brim
ming with tears.
. "Oh, forgive me," he said, with a
world ot compassion In his voice. "It
is all a miserable mistake, and I'll go
back and kill those university people
If you say so." He looked so vicious
that she laughed through her tears.
"No, no; let them live. The poor
dunces! They've nothing else to do."
"But their asinine foolishness has
made you uncomfortable.!!
"Really, I'm beginning to enjoy It
It's all so so unusual." A round
ing ot a curve sent her into Wick
ham's arms.
"Y?s, it is," he assented, steadying
her and looking down at the brown
head so near bis shoulder "and
nice." he added, watching the tendrils
of her hair stream out in the wind.
"Don't, don't!" sba pleaded; "don't
you see they are all looking?"
Wickham became conscious that
his arm was still about her and that
there were people in the coach ataad.
A sudden light came into his eyes.
It was a mingling of Satanlo glee
or triumph. Eugenia could not tell
which; but the arm around her tight
ened. Instinctively she knew her
hour had come that there was no
escape.
"It s quite the customary thing
for a man to put his arm around his
wlfo when they are looking at the
scenery," he said, assuredly. Eugenia
gasped. She tried moving away nat
urally, as though to take another look
at a telegraph pole flying past. He
moved with her, keeping her firmly
in front of the plate-glass door. "And
especially on the rear platform of a
railway coach; it is dangerous other
wise," he added.
"Then I shall go in, the said an-rily.
"I'm sorry, but I'm really afraid
the door is locked a little formality
the porter saw to. This road is par
ticularly kind to newly-married peo
ple." "Dr. Wickham," her eyes blazed
dangerously as she confronted him,
"are you a fool or a madman?"'
"Neither, my dear," he said, sooth
kigly; "only thlB thing has got to
end here, and the only way out ot it
Is for you to promise to marry me.
Will you?" Again Miss Harned could
only gasp.
"You see, these people are mainly
Bostonese, and I've met a few who
are personally acquainted with our
families (may the Lord forgive me),"
he said under bis breath, "and there
is really no other way out of It. Will
you, Eugenia? You see, our family
has known yours for generations, and
It is truly not so bad, and and I
love you, Eugenia. Say yes."
His arm was like iron about her.
The people in the coach sat with eyes
turned discreetly away. She looked
up at his broad shoulders, his fine
head, and reluctantly into his serious
blue eyes. She had halt expected to
find them mocking, but they held her
reluctant ones with a quiet force that
fascinated her. She could not look
away.
"Will you, Eugenia?" he asked.
She could not bring herself to say
either the one thing or the other.
His eyes were searching hers, and she
felt herself yielding Irrevocably. She
made a last futile effort to get away,
and stopped motionless.
"You will, Eugenia," he said, soft
ly, and bending over he kissed her
full on the Hps. He smiled to see the
hot color surge in her face. She
laughed with embarrassment.
"Have it your own way," she said.
"But, thank heaven, getting engaged
doesn't mean getting married. If I
ever get oft this train "
"You'll marry me," ho said, smiling
down at her.
"Well, we'll not speak of that now,"
she said, disengaging herself with a
sigh ot relief and glancing into the
car.
"Yes, time enough when our
friends meet us at Boston," he as
sented, lazily. "Have you had enough
fresh air?" he asked, turning toward
the door and opening it.
"Why I'll never speak to you
again!" she said, looking at the open
door. "You said it was locked."
"All's fair, you know," he said,
stepping aside for her to pass, and
looking so handsome that she bad
not the heart to more than frown.
"I'll say good-by to you for a little
while, Mrs. Wickham," he grinned
as be left her in her section.
It Is not known definitely what
Wickham did in the following two
days, but he must have made himself
very engaging, for Eugenia had prom
ised to marry him in the fall, and
they were on good terms when the
train pulled into Back Bay station.
She was stunned to descend into a
very bedlam of old friends and rice
rice everywhere. She threw one van
quished glance at Wickham, who
stood smug and complacent, his arm
around an elderly woman with nose
glasses, who clung to his coat buttons
with tremulous hands.
"But I thought you were going into
further research, Thomas," with a
discomfited glance at Miss Harned.
"Yes, so I have, mother. Come,
meet my wife," and he went toward
Eugenia, who stood expostulating to
the hilarious and utterly Incredulous
crowd. He bent over her.
"We'll run out to Cambridge to
morrow at 10 and have It fixed up,"
he said.
She looked at him with relief and
resignation in her eyes.
"I guess we'll have to!" McCall's
Magazine.
ENJIFIC
Ok
NDVSTRJ
The American Museum of Natural
History has received samples of the
hair, wool and hide of a mammoth,
probably the only samples ot the out
er covering ot this extinct animal
now in America. They are from Ele
phant Point, Alaska.
Most ot the opium in India Is pro
duced in the agencies of Bihar and
Benares, which have, respectively,
106,000 and 215,000 acres under cul
tivation. The net revenue derived
from the opium in 1907 amounted io
$14,674,893.
A machine for making corks out of
waste paper and paper pulp has re
cently been perfected and patented.
This machine makes corks out of all
kinds of waste paper, which are much
superior to the ordinary corks! as
they are impervious to acids or oils.
Tests made by chemists and the larg
er users of corks ray they are far su
perior to the old style in every way.
A learned Italian doctor says that
giantism is a morbid process a dis
ease due to an enlargement ot a part
ot the brain which is endowed with
growth regulated functions. When
that part of the brain enlarged, the
limbs grew to an abnormal extent and
other physical changes occurred, the
excess of growth being chiefly in the
lower jaw, the arms and legs. The
average life Is only a fraction over
twenty years. Ireland has produced
at least four giants McGrath, born
In Tipperary, in 1736 (he was 7 feet
5 inches in height); Malone, 7 feet 6
Inches; Murphy, 7 feet 3 inches, and
CharlesByrne, 7 feet 6 inches. Nona
of them ever reached great mental
development.
Km
THE . RAID OF THE TUSKER.
"We were all seated under the sha
mlana, a sort of fringed canopy un
der which East Indians sit in the cool
of the evening," says Mr. Inglls, in
"Tent Life In Tiger Land." "Our
hunting togs were discarded and our
guns were being cleaned." -As they
sat thus, unprepared tor any emer
gency, piercing screams were sudden
ly heard.
"Run, sahibs, run! The tusker
has gone mad. He has broken loose!"
All started to their feet, and the
terror-stricken servants flew in every
direction. The great elephant made
a run for the cook, who was bending
over a stewpan. With admirable pre
cision of mind the man delivered the
hissing pan full in the gaping mouth
ot the furious beast.
Our first impulse was to run for
our guns, but they were all taken to
pieces. Not one in the camp was
ready for use.
The elephant next made a rush for
the shamlana;' the ropes snapped like
burnt flax, the lacquered bamboo
poles broke like pipe-stems. Like
the collapsing bulk of a punctured
balloon, the canopy crashed to the
ground, while we made our escape in
all directions.
One of the party, Maff by name,
a man of great strength, who kept a
small meerschaum pipe continually
between his Hps, tumbled over, and
could not rise before the brute was
on him.
The rest of us stumbled over the
tent ropes, dashed to the river,
plunged In and swam across. Then
we paused, and missed Mac. From
the servants came the frightened
wall, "Oh, the sahib Is dead! Alas!"
From the river bank we could see
the brute in a perfect fury of rage,
trampling on the shapeless heap of
cloth, furniture and poles, digging
his tusks Into the canvas in an aban
don of uncontrollable madness. There
was little doubt that Mac lay crushed
to death, mangled out ot all likeness
by those terrible tusks. We waited
an age, It seemed, In an agony of
suspense. By the clear moonlight
everything was as plain as by day.
The elephant tossed the strong
canvas canopy as if it were a door
mat, giving thrust after thrust, and
screaming In a frenzy of wrath. Fi
nally it shook its massive hulk, made
for the dlnlng-tent, and after de
molishlng that, made for the
Jungle.
There was an awful silence, broken
only by a stifled sob. Then some one
said, "Poor old Mac!"
After a time we ventured to the
spot. From the shapeless mound of
canvas there proceeded something
like a groan. Then a voice said:
"Look alive, fellows, and get me
out of this or I'll be smothered!"
"O Mac!" we blubbered. "Is it
really you?"
"Who did you think it was?" was
the answer.
We set to work to extricate our
friend. Tables and chairs were on
top of him so that he could breathe
but not stir. It was a narrow escape.
One thrust of the tusks had passed
between his arm and bis side. The
tension of nerve was so great that at
one time he lost consciousness.
Mac's first care, when he was once
free from .the tangle, was to search
for his pipe.
BATHING IN THE DEAD SEA.
It is well known that' the waters
ot the Dead Sea are much heavier
than those of the ocean. This is due
to the great amount of salt held in
solution. A few years ago Mr., now
Sir Gray Hill, of England, made trial
of swimming in the sea and then in
the Jordan, to compare the two. He
tells the result in his book, "With
the Beduins:"
Many tourists while at Jericho
bathe in the Dead Sea and the Jor
dan, and for very shame I could not
pass by without doing so. But my
experience was peculiar. I had wkh
me one of the Jericho sheiks and
one of the muleteers, and we rode
first to the Dead Sea. Its waters
are generally perfectly still and of
a splendid blue color: but now. ow
ing to the storm, they were very
rough, the waves ran high, and for
some two hundred yards from the
shore were of an ugly brown.
I looked askance at it as I un
dressed, but felt bound to go In. The
waves very promptly knocked me
down, and filled my mouth, nose and
eyes witb their strong brine. Again
I tried, and again, picking up one
after another of the bare branches
of trees which are carried down by
the Jordan and washed on to the
shores of this strange lake, with
which I tried to steady myself as I
walked in. But the force of the
waves, aided by the great floating
power of the water, twisted the
branches out of my hands, and
knocked me down time after time
until, feeling that I had done enough
for principle, I acknowledged that the
victory did not lie on my side, and
scrambled out, smarting most un
pleasantly.
Then we galloped off to the Jor
dan, where I thought I should suc
ceed better. So I cast about for a
suitable place to Jump In, for I did
not like to crawl In lgnomlnlously at
the pilgrims' bathing-place, near
which we were, and which would
have been the wisest course to adopt.
I wanted to take a header. So pro
curing a long .stick, I ascended the
stream a little, and made sure by
sounding with it of a deep spot under
i overnanging tree.
In I dunged, intending; to swim
down to the regular bathing-place.
here I knew there must be a eood
bottom for getting out. Down I
came with the fast-flowing vellow
flood, striking out in the fullest en
joyment. But when I was lust about to nut
my foot to the ground, I was brought
up sharp with a tremendous blow on
my right breast. If it had struck
me on tne heart it would, I think,
have killed me on the snot. I had
come down on to the end of a stnkn
pointing up-stregmf and driven in to
mar me upper nounaary of the
bathing-place, but which was hidden,
owing to the rains having raised the
surface of the river. I had some
difficulty in crawling out again, and
was black and blue In the chest for
month afterward. There Is nothln
like a little experience to teach one
Isdom. Youth's Companion.
A LAST LESSON.
Putting the finishing touches to a
bronco's education Is sometimes ex
citing business. "Bronc" was a big
oiacn beauty of a colt, but about as
mean as he was handsome. He had
never been properly broken by his
first owner, and his second master put
him into the hands of the best horse
breaker in camp, hoping for an im
provement. How his education was
completed Is described in Out West.
"They called this pony a outlaw
bore I took a holt of him," re
marked the "bronco-buster," when
the training of the black beast was
well along. "Shucks!" Nowadays v
if a hoss bucks his saddle-blanket
off'n him the boys say, 'Outlaw! Bad
bronco! Guess I'll ride that ol' hoss
over yonder.'
"I've sweated most o' the ugliness
outen him a'ready," continued the
trainer. "He ain't got but one mean
habit left, an' to-day I'm a-going to
l'arn him to ferglt It."
The mean habit referred to was
this: When Bronc .decided to go
straight ahead, he'd go. Over rocks
and down the steep banks of a wash,
tnrougn cactus and the well-named
cat's claw; and if the chollas pricked
nim or the curved claws of the brush
snatched at his flanks, he would
throw in some fancy bucking for
good measure as he tore along. But
turn? Never!
The trainer took his riata from
the saddle-horn, tied one end to the
rope bridle, or hackamore, and fas
tened it securely under the Jaw. Then
he petted the colt, working toward
its flanks, until the animal allowed
him to reach the tail and fasten a
loop of rope in Its heavy strands.
The free end of ,the riata was
passed through the loop In a way
which would bring the horse's head
and tail together when tightened,
and by passing the riata once more
through both hackamore and loop It
was prevented from slipping when
released.
"Now for the grand merry-go-round!"
announced the trainer; and
standing away from the colt's heelf,
he pulled the riata taut till the ani
mal was bent nearly double. "Keep
turning till I say ye can stop!" he
commanded; and In fact the bewil
dered creature was revolving like a
top, slowly learning the old lesson
of his race that man's will Is law
for the horse.
At the end of twenty minutes or so
the trainer decided that the stiff neck
was sufficiently limber. When he
mounted he discovered his error; the
frightened horse pranced and bucked
with him, and finally tried to roll
over the rider, who sprang from the
saddle just In time.
But bis patience was by no means
exhausted.
"Here's a sure way to make 'em
limber," he announced; and picking
up a large flat stone, he tapped' the
horse's neck for a few minutes stead
ily, but not with sufficient force to
hurt him. "He'll feel that pretty
soon, an' find It easier to turn than
brace his tender neck against the
reins."
When the pony had been reversed
that is, tied head and tall on the
opposite side and allowed to rotate
another half-hour, he was dripping,
with sweat and completely subdued..
The trainer mounted, and the colt
allowed himself to be ridden about
the flat until he tangled in his trail
ing riata and fell, the rider still on
top.
"Now we'll turn him loose an' see
how he behaves hlsself," remarked
the trainer; and unslinglng the ropes,
he again mounted and rode the now
tractable horse in circles and figure
eights, turning and wheeling at will.
"I'd a heap sooner twist this crit
ter's neck with a rope," the trainer
concluded, "than have him break his
neck an' mine, too, over yonder
cliff."
This was the Justification of
Brcnc's hard lesson.
Cold and the Skin.
Sharp frosts or cutting winds have
an unpleasant way ot finding out the
Tveak points in the cutaneous system,
and unless special attention is paid
to the hygiene of the skin a good
deal of unnecessary discomfort, or
even actual suffering, must needs be
endured. London Hospital.
Charles Martens won a place on
the Springfield (Mass.) police force
by having his neck stretched three
tenths of an inch in five weeks by
means ot weights.