Wondrous moon of roseg-- Moon of roses red— Watch o'er my lady Till night has fled. > Fender moon of roses i. Moon of roses white= r Gleam on her Loe With thy pale light. HERE was little wonder \ taat Black Peter's disposi- T tion was bad, for his moth- er was a peevish, irritable, vicious mare. Sam Per- - kins, who owned her, bought her cheap; she was only a mongrel, any- how, and her intolerable temper made ber still less valuable. “But she'll do to raise a colt from,” observed Sam, a remark profoundly foolish, but by no means original, as is evident to any horseman who has wit- messed the occasional stock-breeding performances in those districts where few horses are raised. Peter's father was a thoroughbred, and from him Peter inherited many noble qualities. There was not another " horse in all Perkins’ Neck who could show such clean, flat limbs as Peter, or who could travel so far without weariness, or who was so fearless of objects along the roads. Nor had Peter any bad habits in harness. But over all this the bad disposition hung like a cloud. It manifested itself in a thousand surly looks and impatient ways, and in a disposition to hurt all people who came near him. This inclination seen.3@ irresistible at times, at others held painfully in check. It was as if two spirits were struggling for the mastery in the “Wack horse. He bit or kicked every farm-hand, until none would consent to take care of him. Upon Sam, who was thus «constrained to the disagreeable duty, de ’eft so many marks that one day, in sheer exasperation, Sam tied the hotJe to a tree, and with a nicely trimmed birch sapling gave him a thrashing. “He ain't wuth his barn room an’ keep,” said Sam. This sentiment was echoed by every person on the farm except Ruth, Sam’s sixteen-year-old daughter. For Ruth, alone of them all, understood, and svhen the others abused him she said, “Poor fellow!” And did Peter never injure Ruth? Yes, once. On her white shoulder there is still the mark of his teeth. But that was before he learned all the sympathy there was in that kind little Beart, Life is no brighter for a surly horse than for a surly man or woman, and when Ruth visited the stable, Peter would lay his cheek wearily against fers, and a sad look replaced the an- gry glitter in his eyes, as if he were saying, “Oh, why am I in this wretch- ed world at all-I who by every law of fiumanity and common sense ought mever to have been bred, never to Bbave been born!” One day—it was shortly after the thrashing—Sam essayed to enter Pe- ter’s stall, although a peculiarly wicked fook in the horse's eyes might have _ swarned Lim to take special care. Ont flew the iron-shod heels, and Sam received an injury to his thigh that kept him confined to the house for a week. It was then decided that if any one was fool enough to buy him Peter should be sold. A customer soon appeared in the person of a big, red-headed Irishman, named Patrick Rafferty. “Sure, it’s mesilf can break any horse #n the wurruld av his vices,” said Pat. On arriving home with his new pur- schase, he discovered promptly that he had some vices to break. For after leading Peter into a stall and tying him, the Irishman found no way of Zetting out. if he tried to come out as he went * In, the horse was ready with a pair of very wicked heels; and if he climbed fgnominiously forward through the manger, a strong set of teeth was in waiting to harass him. A dozen times did he back the horse out, kick him savagely in the belly with his cowhide Doots, and then lead him back and renew the attempt, but to no purpose. . Pat was puzzled as well as furiously angry. He had “broken” a number of ~ smongrels, but Peter was half-thorough- bred—a very different thing. Pat had heard of the expediency of Saying down a horse in a case like this; fn fact, had once seen it done, with excellent results. He resolved to try §t. But he proposed a few improve- ments on the original method, which was too simple and humane to suit his ideas. Mike, his son, suggested the pro- priety of repairing to the pasture, where the ground was soft, but Pat laughed him to scorn. “An’ make it aisy for him, is it?” he bellowed, his face crimson with rage. “It's here on the cobblestones ¥'ll throw him, for it ain't for his pleasure I'm throwin’ him!” With Mike's assistance Peter's off forefoot was now strapped up, a sur- eingle buckled round him, and a piece of clothes-line run through it and fast- ened to his near forefoot. A push sidewise, a jerk on the line, and the game was on. Peter leaped into the air like a tiger when he found his two fore legs tied ap, so high, indeed. that Pat was con- strained to let go tle hridle-rein, Tt the kept his hold on the clothes-Li:o. Then down Peter came upon the cob- blestone pavement, crushing his beau- tifully formed knees nearly to the bone, Up once more, a wild spring into the air, and again the crushed and bleed- ing knees were brought down with [ THE MOON OF ROSES Lovely moon of roses Moon of roses red— Guide her through dreamland, Guard thou her bed. Blessed moon of roses— Moon of roses white— ‘Whisper, “I love her,” All through the night. =Anne P, L. Ilield, in the Century. * THE MANKILLER, = 4 By David Buffum. terrible force upon the pavement. This time Pat succeeded in catching the rein, and the horse went over on his side. “And now, Mike,” shrieked Pat, “hand me that cart-stake!” Of the heart-sickening punishment that followed I need only say that it is as cowardly to strike a horse when he is down as it is to strike a man when he is down. Moreover, had Pat been more of a horseman, he would have known that he had no hands to spare for wielding a club; both were needed to handle the rein and line. And now the horse did something which Pat had never experienced be- fore—he roared; not an ordinary neigh, but a roar, such as horses rarely give, but which, when they do give it, is so awful as to strike terror into braver men than Pat, As Pat valued his life, this was the time to hold the line strongly; but he leaped back, dropping it in his excitement. Mike ran, terror- stricken to the house, and in a moment Peter was up! His off forefoot, it is true, was still strapped up, but he could handle him- self on three legs. With another roar he reared and struck fiercely at his tor- mentor with his free forefoot. The blow struck him fairly and squarely on the head—and Patrick’s career as ¢ horse-trainer was permanently closed. Peter was now that most shunned and dreaded thing among horses—a mankiller. There is little doubt that he realized fully what he had done, but if he had any thoughts on the sub- ject they were probably those of satis- faction. But he was too sore, too lame to think of much besides his own suffer- ings. He wandered aimlessly about the yard, and as his excitement grad- ually left him, became desperately thirsty and longed greatly for some soft ground, where he might lie down. After a long time—for help had to be summoned from a neighboring farm—people came and removed Pat- rick’s body; but except for “standing him off” with whips and ciubs, no one paid any attention to Peter. Two days later, Bridget, Pat's wid- ow, came into the yard. The horse being now too exhausted and lame to cause her any fear, she cut loose the strap that confined his forefoot, re- moved the bridle and surcingle, and turned him into an adjoining pasture, where was a brook of running water. Here Peter ran for many weeks, and fully recovered from his injuries, although the ugly scars on his knees of course remained, as well as some of the marks left by the cart-stake. On the side of the pasture next the highway was a white board, bearing the notice, “For sale, sound young horse, warranted kind in harness.” People looked at the sign and smiled derisively as they drove by. From time to time, however, the more curious stopped and looked over the fence. It was not every day one could see a real mankiller. But they always gave the horse a wide berth. At last, one day, came Ruth; and Peter, although with some hesitation, walked slowly up to the fence where she stood. tuth had not intended to speak to him or caress him—this mankilling was too horrible—but when she saw his broken knees and, all over his body, the scars left by the heavy cart-stake, she relented. “Poor Peter!” she said. fellow!” Then Ruth fell to musing on the pos- sibilities for good and evil that often exist in the same individual, and the kind of discipline needed to hold the evil impulses in check. “Whatever the right discipline is, Pe- ter has never had it,” she said. She was a wise little horsewoman, was Ruth. But a purchaser had been found for Peter before, and a purchaser was again forthcoming. This time it was Hobbs, who ran the coal and wood yard in the village, and he wanted the horse to put in his tread-power. He had always used cheap horses for this purpose, and here was a chance to ob- tain for a small sum a good young horse, who would last for a long time. Peter gave a snort of relief when he was taken from the lonely pasture, where for many weeks he had had neither equine nor human companion- ship. Use was far better than this enforced isolation, | He looked almost pleasant as Hobbs put on his halter and led him out of the field, and he trotted along behind the buggy with his head up, his thin nostrils distended and his warm blood leaping in his veins. Half way to the village Hobbs met Ruth. He halted to tell her of his pur- chase and the use to which he intend- ed to put the horse. Ruth looked aghast. “Peter in a tread-power? Why, he's half thor- oughbred!” she exclaimed. “So much the more reason why he'll stand up to that hard work,” said Hobbs. “I ain’t much of a hossman, but accordin’ to what I'm told, thor- oughbreds den’t quit.” “No, and I'll guarantee Peter not to quit,” said Ruth, with a little ring of pride in her voice, “but that kind of work is too far removed from what “Poor, poor nature intended him for. It'll break his heart.” gemrco3n Hobbs shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe,” he said. “But if he does his work I ain't frettin’ about his heart.” And he drove on. Peter had a good supper and a fine bed that night, for Hobbs, although he worked his horses hard, fed and stabled them well. In the morning Peter was led out to the tread-power, and it was evident to him that he was expected to enter it. It was a strange-looking thing, but Peter had never yet shown fear. He entered it at once, and stood perfectly still while the eross-bar was put across behind him and his head tied firmly down, so that he could not jump out. Then the brake was taken off and the floor began to slide backward under him. Peter gave a spring forward, but, fast as he went, the floor moved back- ward with equal speed. He was for- ever going up a very short hill, but never reaching the top. Nothing could possibly be more discouraging or more destructive to a horse's ambition. At last he gave up the struggle and settled down to a nervous, quick stride, a haif-wild and hunted expression in his eyes. All the forenoon he ‘climbed that interminable hill; then, after an hour's rest, he was again put in, and climbed till night. In a week he was a greatly changed horse. It was not the severity of his work, hard as it was, that done it, for those deep lungs of his, that short, strong back and those clean, flat, sinewy limbs would have carried him tri- umphantly through still harder tasks. It was the absolute hopelessness of it, the traveling for ever and never get- ting anywhere, the ignominy, the shame, the mockery of the whole thing. But although the horse showed less disposition than formerly to bite and kick, his subjection had not been of the right kind, and his mind did not run in a healthy, normal channel. As the phrase aptly expresses it, his heart was broken. For three months Peter worked in the tread-power and no horse had ever stood the work so well before. But he was no longer a horse; he was a ma- chine, an automaton, a part of the mechanism he was running. Then Hobbs was taken sick, and af- ter a short illness, died, and soon af- terward all of his effects, including Peter, were advertised to be sold at auction. Peter stood listlessly in the yard on the day of the sale, and his dull eyes looked over the assembled throng with- out any sign of interest. No one would bid much for the mankiller, and it made little difference to him now who owned him. But suddenly his eyes grew a shade brighter, and he gave a faint whinny, for over in the corner of the yard he saw Ruth. She came up to him and took his head between her two little hands. “I haven't much money, Peter.” she said, making sure he understood her, “but you won't bring much, poor fel- low, and I'm going to buy you if I can.” And if you had watched closely you might have seen in Peter's eyes a trace—just a trace, mind you, for he had little feeling left—of the sad, sym- pathy-craving expression with which he used to lay his cheek against hers in the old days at Sam Perkins’ farm. Meanwhile the sale was going on, and at last came the time for putting up the horses. Presently came the turn of “Black Peter, half-thoroughbred, seven years old, sound and with no blemish except scars on his knees and. body.” He was sold to Ruth Perkins for the sum of sixteen dollars and twenty-five cents. Ruth took the halter-rope herself and led the horse home. She was not afraid of him, and both she and he knew that she had no reason to be. There is but little more to tell. Ruth still keeps Peter for her riding and driving horse. Under her treatment his temper has so far improved that, although it ‘frequently shows itself, he is no longer dangerous. I wish that I could conclude by say- ing that his old spirit and ambition had returned, but that is not to be. Break a horse’s heart, and his am- bition is gone forever. Peter does cheerfully whatever his little mis- tress requires of him, and he is as sound as ever in wind and limb; but he no longer looks eagerly for the further end of a long road or exhibits that keen satisfaction in surmounting ob- stacles that was once a part of his nature. “There is no help for it now,” says little Ruth, as she rubs down his glossy black coat. “It is too late, and I'm glad that he is at least as happy as a horse of his temperament could be, and that he is being treated properly at last. But the saddest part of it all to me is that the dreadful experiences he went through were unnecessary, and that his whole career, up to the time I bought him, was a chapter of human mistakes and wrongs.”— Youth's Companion. Crisp Definitions. It is the boys who furnish the crisp definitions: “Irony is small articles made out of iron.” *“Anticlimax is a brand of chewing tobacco.” “Facile, a little face.” “An autograph is a money- grabbing scheme set on foot by one man.” “Antifat and antitoxin are those new, cheap breakfast foods.” “A bliz- zard is something inside of a hen.” “Our ancestors are our back relations.” “An octagon is an eight-sided devil- fish.” Plant Oils. A chemist in India has produced oils from fifty-six kinds of common plants, such as the cucumber, tapioca plant, etc. Most of these oils have never been put to use, even if their properties are known, and it is suggested that a wide field for developing rew indus. tries is‘here open, PAR BI a a EX 2 SOS A gigantic baobab of Central Amer- fea, with a trunk twenty-nine feet through was thought by Humboldt to be not less than 5150 years old. The Murray system of printing by telegraphy has been used by the Brit- fsh postoffice with great advantage. The German postoffice has been giving it a prolonged trial, and the Russian postoffice has just given an order for the apparatus. Mexican botanists believe they have now discovered a life span even great er than this, and from the dnnual rings a eypress of Chepultepee, whose trunk is 118 feet in circumference, is assigned an age of about sixty-two hundred years. A Boston scientist says that hypno- tism can develop only natural instincts and the best hypnotist in the world cannot make a really moral person do wrong. From experiments he has made he believes that seventy-five per cent. of the human race, if unre: strained by family pride and other like considerations, would steal, A Viennese naturalist declares that nearly all reptiles that die from naturdl causes close their lives between mid- night and morning and fewer still tn day light. Most reptiles seem aware of their approaching death, seeking out particular places and there await- ing the end, while those whose lives are spent urderground come to the surface before death. It was recently demonstrated before the Society of Biology at Paris that the ancient custom of burning such sub- stances as sugar, resin and certain aro- matic plants for fumigation and disin fection was of considerable value, as these materials gave off vapors with antiseptic properties which made them most useful germicides. This is due to a large amount fornic aldehyde in the vapors, and it was found that when two grams (thirty-one grains) of sugar were burned in a bell glass of twelve litres (12.6 quarts) capacity, objects in fected with the bacillus coli. bacillus typhosus, the vibrio of cholera, the bacillus tuberculosis, and other path: enogenic germs were destroyed within half an hour. Other more resistant bacteria required a somewhat longer exposure, but eventually cuccumbed.— Harper's Weekly. In a recent address Professor H. F. Osborn gave some additional facts about ancient American horses. It ap pears that in North America there were always from four to six entirely different: varieties of the horse family living contemporaneously. Some were slow moving and relatively broad footed horses, living in the forests: others were very swift, having narrow feet m resembling those of the deer and lived on the plains. Moreove there were. American horses la than the huge Percherons of to-day and others smaller than the most di- minutive Shetlands. Strangely enough, the greatest beauty and variety in t development of the horse family were exhibited here just before the total extinction of horses on the American continent, a catastrophe which stiil offers an unsolved problem for investi- gation. ACAINST FREAK NEWSPAPERS. Significance of Recent Decision of Post- office Department. In their struggle for business some newspapers have found it necessary to bolster up indifferent publications by the addition of calendars, sheet music, patterns, blocks of postal cards, cut- out animal pictures, animal masks, cut-out dolls, soldiers and naval ves- sels, circulars, hand-bills and ecard- board spectacles. The purpose is to make the customer believe he is get- ting a bargain, and this forced circula- tion, which is not won on the merit of the paper itself, is offered as proof to the advertiser of actual worth. It is a deception to both the reader and ad- vertiser, and has been made all the easier of accomplishment because the publisher has been permitted to circu- late his cheap John assortment through the mails at second-class rates. - The Postoffice Department, casting about to decrease its enormous expen- ditures, has discovered that these newspaper owners have been imposing upon it, and has issued notice that the practice must cease. The point is made that this matter is purely extraneous, and cannot come within the provision of the law of 1879, which permitted the mailing of newspaper supplements at the second-class rate of a cent per pound. It is estimated that this action will work a material reduction in the amount of mail handled, and will, to that extent, relieve the present conges- tion. It should also have the effect to in- crease the standard of the newspapers that have engaged in the business. The publishers will be forced to furnish a higher quality. of news in order that their publications may compare with those newspapers which have been hewing strictly to legitimate lines.— Toledo Blade, Easy Fishing. Catching fish by hand is becoming a great sport on the Auxvasse. The method is to feel under the roots of trees overhanging the water, under old logs, rock heaps, etec., until Mr. Fish is located, when it is a comparatively easy matter to run one’s hand into his gills and pull him from the water. Several catfish, weighing in the neigh- borhood of seventy-five pounds, have been captured in this way during the past few weeks. — Mokane (Mo.) Her- ald-Post. ( IN PERSISTENCE LIES PROFIT. | Why the Trial Advertisement is an Un. business-Like Proposition, In all probability, says the British Advertiser, the trial advertisement has handicapped advertising results more than any other single item, and if so, it is a matter which calls for the very closest attention of all who live by or who are interested in the selling and ultimate use of advertising space. To begin with, the single advertise. ment, by the way of a trial, is about the most unbusiness-like piece of busi- ness that can be indulged in. As well expect to find the proverbial hole in the proverbial stone as the outcome of the falling of one tiny drop of water as to expect the first advertisement to pull. No merchant or manufacturer worthy of the name, sending a mew represen- tative over new ground, where both principal, representative and goods are alike altogether unknown, expects that representative to send in orders on his first journey. If he has broken the ice, if he has gained for his house a hearing here and there, and diffused a general kind of knowledge to the effect that his line is on the market, he has done all that it is possible to do, and then it becomes reasonable to anticipate on subsequent journeys an interest in and possibly a slight demand for the goods he is push- ing, working on gradually, as visit af- ter visit is paid, to solid and paying business. Surely, then, the advertisement, which, after all, is largely on a line with the traveler, excepting as to cost, should not be expected to do more than the traveler; indeed, the traveler is bound to benefit from the appear- ance of the advertisement, but never the advertisement from the traveler's call, so that in the matter of result it may easily come about that an advertisement is doing its work, but without any tangible re- sults being obvious. This, however, is more a matter of the general cam- paign than of the initial advertise- ment with which this article is alone concerned. The matter would not be so impor- tant were it not the case that hun- dreds, pessibly thousands, of manufac- turers and retailers are outside of the advertising fold entirely as the result of an initial advertisement having failed to show results, and it is a mat- ter for sincere regret that publishers and canvassers should mot, for their own sakes, at least strongly discour- age the trial advertisement. The man who expects to get results from a first advertisement takes too much for granted; he considers that the world is waiting for his announce- ment, whereas it is the case that his announcement, to be of any use, must be there when the world wants his goods. Cooking in Camp, Campers who want a good breakfast —and a good lunch, too—may be re- minded of what experienced hunters know—that a hole in the ground makes a good oven. Beans may be prepared and baked as follows: Dig a hole in dry ground about three feet long, eighteen inches wide and fourteen inches deep. Build a good fire in the hole with hard wood, pref- erably, or pine limbs, and let the fire turn to coals. The earth round the hole must get very hot. While the fire is getting into proper shape prepare the beans for baking by parboiling and draining off the water. Turn the par- boiled beans into your camp kettle, The beans should not fill the kettle more than three-quarters full. Placea slice of pork or bacon on top, with a pinch of salt if necessary, and fill the kettle with cold water. With a cover fitted closely over the Kettle one dish is ready for baking. Next, clear a place in the hole for the kettle by raking the coal aside, and put down your kettle. An inch or two of ashes round and over the kettle keeps the beans from burning. Then heap the coals round and over the ashes, and throw over all a foot of ashes and dry earth. In the morning, when you dig up your kettle you will find a most | delicious dish of baked beans. A chicken or a grouse also cooks well in a hole-in-the-ground oven. Dress and wash the bird inside, ready for cooking, but do not remove the feath- ers. Put salt and pepper inside the bird. Then wrap the bird in green grass. Encase the whole in wet clay. Place it in the hole of coals as you do with the kettle of beans, and cover it with ashes and coals and dry earth. The beans and the bird may well go into the same hole. In the morning, when the baked clay ball is dug up and broken open, the feathers peel off with the grass and clay, and the juicy white meat lies out steaming and tempting. Many things can be cooked in -the ground, and a camper will find experi- menting worth while.—Youth's Com- panion, Frayed Cuffs, ‘Among the minor arts of life of which we have lately given some in- stances is one which is sadly neglect ed. It relates to the treatment of shirt cuffs that show the first protest against the laundry’s handling. The laundress is cruel, but the man who pares his shirt cuffs with scissors heaps folly upon brutality. With the first touch of steel the cuff is ruined. Light a match and pass it round the frayed edges (do not burn your wrist). The cleans. ing fire will remove the dross'and leave intact the pure gloss of the cuff. A puff treated with fire will last laundry generations longer than the cuff treat- ed with steel.—London Chronicle. The Largest Painting. The largest picture ever painted has just been completed by a French artist, in Paris, after eight years’ labor. It represents the "funeral of M. Carnot, and the canvas measures 150 square yards. THE HAY BOX....... sesirvessssrrensnn INN CAMP NITED STATES CONSUL- AR CLERK GEORGE H. MURPHY ends from Frankfort, Germany, a description of a fireiess cook stove which is well worth the attention of the man in the woods. The device is not new. It was shown in the Paris Exposition of 1867, being then known as the “Norwegian auto- matic kitchen,” but only in recent years has it come into general use. A pro- paganda to familiarize the public with its merits is now being successfully pushed in Berlin, Munich and other cities; and Mr. Murphy believes that it should be known on this side of the Atlantic. The fireless cook stove or hay box is devised on a recognition of the prin- ciple that various kinds of food require but a few minutes of actual cooking, and if then they are put away and surrounded with such conditions that the heat cannot escape nor the air get to them the process of cooking will be completed. In its simplest form the stove is a wooden box in which ves- sels containing hot food are packed in nests of hay or shavings or paper or some similar material to retain the heat. The box may be lined with wool or felt, but this is not essential. Almost any wooden box that has a tight cover will answer the purpose. The advantage of the use of the hay, box is that the time of cooking food is very greatly reduced; thus two or three minutes of actual boiling on the fire are amply sufficient for vegetables; at the end of that time the pots con- taining them are transferred to the hay box and covered up, and the process of cooking there continues; roasted meats require from twenty to thirty minutes of roasting and the process is then completed in the hay box. After the preliminary cooking on the stove the articles are kept for two or three hours in the hay box, although they may be left there for ten or twelve hours. All the usual dishes, such as boiled ‘and roasted meats, fish, sauces, soups, vegetables, fruits, puddings, etec., may be cooked in this way. Dried beans and dried fruits are first to be well soaked in water; then, after being al- lowed to boil for from two to five min- utes, they will be theroughly prepared for the table after being kept from one to two hours in the hay box. The formula for the use of the box is very simple. The pots being transferred from the fire to the box are set in the nests prepared for them, the hay is packed tightly under and around them, a pillow of hay is placed on top and the lid of the box is securely closed. The advantages of the system in do- mestic use are obvious; some of them, as summaried by Consular Clerk Mur- phy, are: “1. The cost of fuel can be reduced four-fifths, or even nine-tenths. 2. The pots are not made difficult to wash; they are not blackened, and hey will last for almost an indefinite period of time. 3. The food is better cooked, more tasty, more nutritious and more digestible. 4. Kitchen odors are obviated. 5. Time and labor are saved. 6. There is no need of stirring nor fear of scorching or burning. 7. The cares of the housewife are les- sened, and her health and happiness are thus protected. 8. The kitchen need not be in disorder half of the day. 9. Warm water can always be had when there is illness in the house and during the summer when fires are not kept up. 10. Milk for the baby can be kept warm all night in a pot of water. 11. Where workmen's fam- ilies live crowded in one or two rooms the additional suffering caused by kitchen heat is obviated by thé hay box, for the preliminary cooking can all be done in the cool of the morning. 12. Similarly, men and women work- ing in the fields or having night em- ployment can take with them hot cof- fee, soup, or an entire meal, thus avoid- ing the necessity of returning home at a fixed hour or having it brought to them by another member of the family. 14. When different employments make it necessary for the various members of a family to take their meals at dif- ferent hours, this can be arranged. . without a multiplication of work with the assistance of the hay box. Of course it is necessary that the box be kept perfectly clean, as otherwise it may become sour or musty.” The hay box system might well be adapted to camp use. Any old box will do; for the purposes of transpor- tation it might be collapsible, of wood or of tin. The dishes could be a set which would nest one in the other. For hay there are leaves, grass, pine needles and what not. Many of the conditions of its use which are so advantageous in domestic practice would prove not less so in the eld. Ine stead of one member of the party re. maining in camp or returning early to do the cooking, while the others are hunting or fishing, the meal could be prepared in a few minutes before starts ing out for the day, and the food put away in the hay box to be found cooked and warm on the return. The task of keeping up the camp fire would be reduced to a minimum. And the probabilities are that the food that came out of the hay box would be bet- ter cooked and more nutritious than the ordinary product which the aver. age vacation camper now submits for judgment before a jury of his peers.— Forest and Stream. Small Temperature Range. The smallest range of temperature in one place in the world is at Suginam, in Dutch Guiana. Here, in summer, the average is 78, and in winter it is TTY; degrees.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers