v ry FRIE You are my friend, for you have smiled with My elp and hope In falr and stormy 1 like you for ‘the joys you've whiled with 1 love Jou for the griefs we've wept to- “Y've held your hand when 'ife was gold to And shared with you Its every graclous ffreeting ; You've brought good cheer when earth was co to ma, i b And made me feel your warm heart fond! beating. y y NDS. \ A» Though all the world was deaf and dark to me, And long the night, and bleak the winds and biting, 1 know full well that you would hark to me, And set my path with lamps of Love's glad lighting. You are my friend, for you have smiled with me, My help and hope In fair and stormy weather; 1 like you for the joys you've whiled with me, I love you for the griefs we've wept to- gether, ~-Nixon Waterman. * * . LOVE'S VICTORY. 2 » By BARRY SHIEL. 2 “Well, there's only one course left open to me now, my dear fellow, and that is to ‘marry money.’ I've staved off the evil day as long as possible, but I'm cornered at last. So you will prob- ably hear the engagement of Maurice Algernon Davenegh to a certain heir- ees whom we know of announced at an early date.” The speaker yawned, leaned back in bis seat with a complacent air, and watched the smoke curling fantastical- ly ceilingward from the business end of his cigar. “The dickens it will!” exclaimed the Honorable Claude, looking up in sur- prise. “And who, if I may ask, is the —er—fortunate lady?” “Miss Violet Hunstan.” “What! Old Chicago Hunstan’s daughter? Maurice, my boy, you're in luck!” “I'm sure I hope so,” drawled the pther, languidly. “But there's nothing really settled yet. As a matter of fact, we were only introduced three days ago. She's quite a child, you know, and probably hasn’t made up her mind. But I have!” _ “You seem beastly cocksure about it,” remarked his friend; laughing. “But you won't have the field to yourself remember. A girl with twenty thou- sand a year gets plenty of offers these days. Not but what you'd stand as a chance as most, mind you; es- pecially if the lady happens to be satis- fled with a tolerable amount of good looks and the bearer of an ancient pame.” “Thanks awfully for the compli- ment,” drawled Davenegh. “Claude, my boy, you shall be best man at my wedding.” “Right! But, I say, you mustn't Jose any time, old man. If I were you, I'd push the business; pile on the presents, see her every day and pre- tend to be in deadly earnest ” “There won't be any pretense about that,” interrupted Davenegh, with a laugh. “The lady has, to be exact, nineteen thousand, five hundred pounds g year, and I have—let me see now— three or four moderate racers waiting sale, a cantankerous uncle with a pas- gion for longevity, a bag of debts and once—it was the occasion of their in- troduction and now, as he clasped her small fingers and bent low over them, she noted afresh his handsome feat- ures, dark, well-trained mustache and deep-fringed eyes, and her heart gave a little throb, And when he drew a chair close be- side her and devoted himself to her amusement, beginning in a witty, im- personal vein, and then gradually low- ering his mellow voice and talking on topics nearer to the heart of each, her cheeks burned at the thought which came to her unbidden—the thought that, if this man loved and wooed, how terribly irresistible he would be! ' Meanwhile the man beside her was congratulating himself on the prog- ress he seemed to be making. She would be an easy conquest, he told himself; even now she could hardly meet his gaze without drooping her eyes. What an unsophisticated miss she was, to be sure! It seemed al- most a shame to deceive her. He took his leave at last, but that visit was only the first of many. Lady Cheyne was wise in her generation. She never mentioned his name to her charge, never broached the subject of marriage; but always kept a seat at the opera and a place in her carriage for the young man whenever he might choose to avail himself of them, which, to be candid, was not seldom. Thus the weeks sped on, and Mau- rice Davenegh’s bill at the florist’s grew by almost daily items. His friends, of course, congratulated and chaffed him, each in accordance with his particular temperament; but one and all envied him. He was in for a good thing, they said; with scarcely a thought for the fair, young victim who was dreaming her first love dream. Ah! Heaven. How sweet Oh, that she need ever awake! * * & % & * * it was! “And it is for me?” * The girl caught her breath as she looked at the star of brilliantsTying in its velvet case, and Jef eyes spark- led. They were ~¥tting out” in the conservatory, ~Fithin the dancing was in full Swifie. . —the clothes I stand in!” be a speak of fairly decent oim=r ersational powers, nice eyes and a well-bred alr—" + Davenegh picked up a bulky vol- ume from the table and poised it threateningly. The Honorable Claude ughed and, straightening his - long , rose to depart. “Well, anyhow,” he said, “I wish ou luck, old man. Go in and win. ou couldn't do better and the girl might do worse. Well ta-ta! 3ee you again in a few days.” As the door closed behind his friend, Maurice Davenegh pulled himself up | slowly from the depths of the arm- ghair. He crossed to the mantle, and, resting both arms upon it, surveyed fis own reflection in the mirror. “The girl surely won't expect me to Jove her,” he muttered; “that sort of ponsense is out of fashion nowadays. Besides, as Claude says, she might go farther and not do so well. After all, I'm not the worst sort they make, and I'll try and be good to her. No doubt the crudities and the accent will jar a pit at first, but I mustn't mind that. Pll have to gloss them over, pile on the jam and swallow the gilded pill. It's the only way out. ‘Poverty and pickles’ wouldn’t suit me. 1 must mar- ry ‘The Marigold,’ accent and all. Nineteen thousand a year! By Jove! it's worth going for. Many a fellow has sold himself for half that. I'll take OClaude’s advice and start the wooing business at once—hang it!— yes, this very afternoon!” - * . * * “Mr. Davenegh!” "The footman threw wide the door, and, handsome, debonair, smiling, as ‘though he had recently stepped out of a bandbox and hadn't a care in the world, Maurice Davenegh entered the goom and received Lady Cheyne's somewhat effusive greeting with a gourtly bow. ‘ "The fair widow was delighted to see per visitor—for reasons. This young man was well borp, well connected, heir to a title and unattached—and Lady Cheyne had the chaperoning of a millionaire’s daughter, at something substantial per month, with the prom- fee of a lump sum down in the event of a satisfactory marriage. . © jt was this lump sum that she was fonging to finger. Chaperoning a pret- ty girl was all very well, but a trip to Monte Carlo or a flutter in circles where little debutantes were out of place and distinctly in the way was . more to Lady Cheyne's taste. of these indulgences was possible, however, as long as the heiress re- mained on her hands. As for Violet, the girl rose from her chair with a feeling of undisguised Neither For you,” he said. ‘You think it is pretty?” “It is perfectly lovely. But id She stopped abruptly and averted her face. “But not of any great value, eh?” He laughed. She turned swiftly. “You say that because I am g mil- lionaire’s daughter, and can buy what I choose; but one doesn’t always value a thing according to its intrinsic worth.” " “Thank you for that speech,” he said, earnestly. “Then you accept my offer- ing?” “Willingly,” she answered. “My only regret is that I can give you nothing in return; at least, nothing that you would care for.” . “Nothing?” Maurice tock the white fingers in his own and compelled her to meet his gaze. Was the time ripe? Should he try his fate tonight? ¢=- wea oor yon really want,” she half whispered. ceally wanted—soume- thing?” He tightened his hold on her fingers and bent lower till his breath fanned her cheek. What &n emotional little soul she was! Quite different from any of those other girls he had made love to! He touched softly with his lips the hand he held. “If I really wanted this, would you give it to me—some day?” “Do you really mean it? Do you really mean that you love me?” Their eyes met. There seemed to be a wonderful story, a story that was written for him alone, on that face. It fascinated the young man, and for the first time he discovered that the girl was really beautiful. Her words, “You really mean that you love me?” repeated themselves persistently in his brain, and the look in her violet eyes thrilled him with a strange new feeling. But—love her? Ah, there was some one coming! “Yes,” said a voice, which he recog- nized as that of the Honorable Claude's. “Davenegh’'s hooked her right enough. Nice .little thing, but, of course, it's her money bags he’s after. Ah, well! we've all got to marry some day—for love or lucre; but it’s lucre in his case with a vengeance!” No more. The voices passed out of earshot. Stunned and dazed, Dave- negh dropped the hand he held, and the twain faced each other speechless. This, then, was the end. Davenegh rose, and his face was almost as white as that of the girl beside him as, with- out speaking he drew Violet's trembl- ing fingers through his arm and led her back to the ballroom. At the entrance they stopped, as if by mutual consent, and Davenegh with- nis deep eyes rest on,the girl's stricken face, and there was love, remorse and bitter shame in thelr depths. Then, having uttered no word, he hurried away, with ashen Mps and a heart full of a burning, blinding pain. He had insulted her beyond all hope of pardon, grieved her beyond all forgivenness, and-he loved her! For the next fortnight Lady Cheyne was at her wits’ end what to do with her charge. Day by day the girl grew whiter and thinner, like some lovely pale flower whose strength was grad- ually being sapped at the roots; yet, in spite of motes, letters and frantic letters, Maurice Davenegh made no sign, and finally it was ascertained that he had left town, destination unknown. It was in vain that Lady Cheyne fumed and fretted; there was nothing for it but to leave town also and try if the sea breezes would bring the color back to Violet's cheeks. It was a nui- sance and fearful upsetting of plans; but the gir! looked like a ghost, and people were beginning to talk. * - * - *® . - “Come on, now; yer purse—quick! If ye holler—" The tramp raised his stick threat- eningly, and his grip on the girl's slender wrist tightened to an intensity that was painful. Violet Hunstan—for it was she— was trembling violently. In the middle of the road lay her bicycle, and she was covered with dust from head to foot. She gave a frantic look up and down the long road, but there was not a soli- tary being in sight. “D'ye hear me? to waste. Wot? we'll see!” Gripping her arms the ruffian forced her back against the bank, thrust one black hand over her mouth, and with the other began fumbling with her dress. The poor girl felt her senses going. She ceased to struggle, a queer haze came before her eyes and then— then something bigand dark loomed up there was the sound of a heavy blow, followed immediately by something between a curse and a groan, and then —darkness! * - * * * * * “What a lucky thing you happened to be passing! I should never have forgiven myself otherwise.” “Thank Heaven I was in time!” an- swered Davenegh, as he laid the un- conscious girl on the sofa in Lady Cheyne’s boudoir at the hotel. “Ah!” At that moment Violet opened her eyes, and as Maurice bent over the couch, Lady Cheyne discreetly with- drew. The girl looked up at him with a startled expression; then, with a shiver, closed her eyes again. Nothing daunted, however, the man stooped down and gathered the shrinking form in his arms. “My darling,” he cried, “can you ever forgive me? Dearest, if you only knew how I have suffered! If yore kiew how I love Yeah roger ; : ~~Mie girl looked up wonderingly, wist- fully, and then she knew! Those dark, deep eyes above her told their own story. Lady Cheyne’'s house in Mayfair was reopened again, and society only knew that Sir Maurice Davenegh had been out of town for a month and that his rich uncle was dead. Of that tragic interval—the time be- tween—they knew nothing. They never dreamed that he had left London because he had fallen in love with the girl he had vowed to marry for her money, and that but for the plundering propensities of a certain individual ot the tramp fraternity, he would proba- bly never have seen her again. These secrets are the joint property of Lady Cheyne, who is discreet, and the wife of Sir Maurice Davenegh who is, as she firmly believes, the happiest woman in the world—New York Weekly. I ain't got no time Yer won’t! Ho! QUAINT AND CURIOUS. A communication received by a Lon- don firm read: “I beg to inform you that Mr. —— passed away yesterday at the request of his widow.” “Buttercups and daisies follow rail- roads the world over,” said an engin- eer, “In India, in Central Asia, in Brazil, the parallel rails run contin- ually between meadows white and yel- low with home flowers.” An instructor at Vassar College has an old and interesting collection of photographs—the photographs of the babies of young women who are col- lege graduates. The babies in this col- lection are strong and beautiful. They number 300. The first verse of the Fifty-first Psalm is called the “neck verse,” for the reason that in former times a man condemned to death sometimes had a chance to save his life by proving that he could:read, and this verse was used as a test. There are only three national holi- days in Japan. January 1 is one of them, and the birthday of the reigning emperor, November 3 is another. But February 11 is the greatest of the three dates, for it is the anniversary of the coronation of the first Emperor, Jim- mu. New Yorkers are in the habit of thinking of everything west of Buf- real West. A Philadelphia man who had been to Salt Lake City made a falo as Western, but not so out in the casual acquaintance on a street cor- ner there. After some talk the Phila- delphian said he was an Easterner. The other replied: “I'm from the East, too. My home is in Oklahoma.” a The Nature of Electricity * Remains One of the Unsolved Problems of the Century. By Professor A. E. Dolbear. ERE on the threshold of the new century we are confronted with the question “What is electricity?” and the answer implied by the question seems to demand a something which could be described by one who knew enough, as one would describe some new mineral er gas or thing. Some eminent scientific men are befogged by the question, say it is some ultimate unknowable thing, and hopeless as an in- quiry. If it be a something it must be described by its constant properties as other things are. If it be unlike everything else then it cannot be described by its constant properties as other things are. If it be unlike everything else then «it cannot be de- scribed by terms that apply to anything else. All material things have some common properties. A glowing coal is an incandescent solid, a flame fs an incandescent gas, but neither glow nor flame exists apart from the matter that exhibits the phenomena. Both are conditions of particular kinds of matter. If electric phenomena are different from gravitative or thermal or luminous phenomena it dqes not follow that electricity is miraculous or that it is a substance. We know pretty thoroughly what to expect from it, for it is as quantitatively related to mechanical and thermal and luminous phenomena as they are to each other; so if they are conditions of matter, the presumption would be strongly in favor of electricity’s being a condi: tion or property of matter, and the question, “What is electricity?” would then be answered in a way by saying so, but such an answer would not be the answer apparently expected to the question. To say it was a property of matter would be not much more intelligible than to say the same of gravi- tation. At best it would add another property to the list of properties we already credit it with, as elasticity, attraction and so on. In any case the nature of electricity remains to be discovered and stated in terms common to other forms of phenomena, and it is tb be hoped that long before this new century shall have been completed, mankind will be able to form as adequate an idea of electricity as it now has of heat. 000000000000 0000000 ~R~S The Happy Married Man’s Face ! 3 Crosse) By Walter Beverley Crane. Cpe) HERE is an expression in the face of a good married man 4 4 p 4 ) < p 4 ) < ) 4 p OOLOLLLLE POPOV eV 0 Cree who has a good wife that a bachelor’s cannot have. It is indescribable. He is a little nearer the angels than the sweetest cotillon leader living. How often, or, how often, in looking o'er the happy features of my dearest friend I have envied that baetific ex- pression and wished I could change faces with him! Faces, I say, not places. For the variations of the intensity of magnetic action, either from time to time, or as we proceed from place tr ~"age are among thte most interesting of all the phenomena of terrests®,] magnetism. i, No one ever mistakes the good married map, It is only the erratic one who leaves you in doubt. The good one ca protect all the unprotected females, and make himself generally agreeals to the ladies, and yet never leave a doubt on any mind that there issd’ precious little woman at home worth all the world to him. > For we have seen already that fhm hour to hour, and from day to day, there are changes in the extent of" the minute oscillations of the suspended magnet, and that these changed indicate variations in the intnsity of the magnetic force under diurnal” nd annual solar influences, _ Regt garden studentS~and astronomers, scientists and waiters, add to these variations a change which has a period corresponding to the motions of the moon, and it becomes evident that it is to an influence as subtle and as pervading in its character as gravitation itself that the terrestrial mag- net owes its powers. Yes, there is an expression in the face of a come off.” rearrreesreTiersarets | Elvin ermal] What Business Men Demand of Boys By William Hosea Ballou, Author and Sociologist. OYS need, most of all, to be taught how to observe and study, to study things themselves, rather than the names of things; to acquire correct habits of thought, to investigate and discover for themselves what they wish to know. To thjs end it seems to me our schools are doing excellent work. But in what, if any, respects do they fail to meet the demands of business men? In conversation with several men of large experience in my office, and as I have met them in bank, counting room, at lunch and elsewhere, I have put the question, “In your experience as a business man what sort of ‘school training does a boy need?” The question applies, of course, only to boys untrammeled by require- ments for admission to college. All were agreed that boys should leave school with a more thorough training in the rudiments of education, particularly in what used to be known as mental arithmetic. If I may generalize, let me say, to sum up, that business men ask: That our schools give boys a more practical training; that they guard against mental indigestion as we would against physical indigestion. That such training be more thorough, particularly in arithmetic and ac- counts. : That more attention be given to English composition, spelling and pen- manship. That the school (and perhaps the home) teach the gospel of WORK, WORK. WORK! This lesson well learned will surely win promotion, give character, studying quality, persistence, stick-to-a-tiveness and, coupled with thrift, will enable any bright boy to grapple with the problems of life and to climb ambition’s ladder.—New England Grocer. : 0000006060006 60000000000600 Sams Il Poy Is the Education MM of Women OES co-education educate? This is the supreme question. It it prepares men and women for the higher utilities, if it in- sures to its graduates a broad culture and a high standard of character, and gives this to a degree equaled by the col- lege for men, or the college for women, it must be giver consideration. It does not, and, from the limitations with which co-education imposes, it cannot. Co-education is a hybrid bred from an unnatural union between two systems that contain irreconcilable differences. It presents no meth. od of self-adjustment to the needs of women. | It appears that women have been made to believe, and the notion has been fostered by the equal suffragist cult, that if she were educated after the manner of man she could do man’s work in the way that men do it. The sex problem is actually ignored as non-existent. No woman ever did man’s work after his ways, or thought his thoughts after his manner of thinking. She is first unsexed and then treated co-educationally. There is no escaping from ith Men a Failure? By Dr. Ely Dan de Warker. p ) aaa aal Buenos Ayres has the most complete and costly newspaper building in the pleasure. She had damced with him drew his arm. For a moment he let world, costing $3,000,000. this conclusion; neither do the advocates of the method meet the question. They simply assert, dogmatically, that it is better for her to be 3 educated.— QUITE A BLOW FOR An honest, Industrions Gopher One day, fo his joy, found a lone 4 Bread. “This in my hole 1 wil : A rainy day," chuckled the (OBS Tt chanced that an indolent LORLET] Was watching, and cried he, now Thought he, “here's Oo BHO Gopher That broad With a hoe I will go fo The Loafer for sure came to woe, f) He fled at a pace far from 80W, WY) The Gopher gave chase tO the Ton I give you my word this Is so, for It may seem peculiar. | know, for A Loafer to hoe for a loaf or A Gopher to go for & Loafer, Mrs. Callahan—Motke! Moi’ up; ut’s toime t' take y' insou’ icine.—Puck. ’ ; Mr. Blinks—OQne of’ fell at Waterloo. ‘Which platform? “It does seem oC my man friends w} ed from me throug my husband.”—L “Ma!” “What in that bottle bs It’s mucilage.” can't "get~ my Leader. Scribbles—Wright's J in the Slums” failed hear. Dribbles—Yes. of poverty—only pove, Chicago Daily News. “Do you deal in s mobiles? If you do, k mine.” “Yes, sir, % have you had your’ this morning.”—Lif] Landlady—Are ¥ doo, that the less one lives? Mr. mouth full)—Su of living that w§ “What's de ( “Prayin’ for a “Reckon he’ll gd ’cordin’ ter h roosts! ”"—Atlant “So you still has his price?] Senator Sorghu Hi'le_ fellows m| scandalous ,@N& Star. . Citiman—You itors out here, d ves; coming a day. Citiman nager— pose. Subbubs¥ the boy} Philadelphia Prépgp org Mr. A B gay anything aft afternoon, Ethel] aren joined the <{-F Dall Speak League,” fl 108m —Chicago Daily Painter—“¥ Manage not decided insurance “Mr. “Yes,” an : “When will 3 Hoplg A vent'out on N ge.”—Washington Star, h, sh great deal of taste “Ah, think so?” bad.”’—Philadelphia ou think the Pana a good thing?” SYS ‘much prejidicd graft that good things are scarcer | every year.”—Wag Star. 1 Publisher—The trouble with that you don’t spend enou til er your work. This last / no yours seems unfinished.’ Aut But you wanted it in a hurry, lisher—True. But you mig] spent a couple of days more Town and Country. “I think,” said the man wh itically ambitious, “that I wil in convincing our friends money is not tainted. ”. oe the point just mow® ans tor Sorghum. “The first ty convince them that you've ,f the money.”—Washington Sta; Shepherd—What are all yg doing out today? Volunteer) all out scouting. Shepherd— are you doing? Volunteer—p} ing, too. Shepherd—ARd scouting, please? Vol to tell the truth, I din key we're a| on the scout Hoge Punch. A “Why don’t you put a st mad career of these railways? the man who is always indignin dear sir,’ answered Senator S “I haven’t thought of it. But ti no sense in a man standing o track and defying the locomd when he might just as ‘well be parlor dar looking at the scenery Washington Star. ] “I believe,” sald Mrs. Oldef “that what a boy is depends lp upon his environment.” “I km replied {her hostess as she ca toyed With her jewel box. was my cousin Ebenezer’s bo} never knew what it was to well yd until the doctors fol teer- that it /was his environment, it out.” —Chicago Record Her Therg are over fifteen tH post-office saving banks in Eng} | Harper's Magazine. The | An Americ ged a ratio is the s L American Telegrap! to be have you registere down al 11 an p cal he ntler ou 3 fe [ to. ocedure sable. courtsh earmer capaci g. Bu h son educ: pnial 1 — D> in ™ a om Br fl bt O Om heir pretty s In lighter ‘ocks of fin ntre-deux alenciennes, his is now ng, although rs still clin white is the RL y en, on it can be add are immensel understood. The frocks made to be wi neck and sh igh in the ven any of tl most like coa originally int the same moc ng in cloth 2 mn Fashio ar. oma cag ar tabl nly t pd. 4 istinc ‘will be eneral a on of pom e Chicago the proje Benedict Car lub, whose a recommended as a proper ° most enterpr West. A m Chicago men terested in | committee Ww with others ¢ their confere laid. At an announced tl $50,000 had | rew home oO Club, one of organization. is now unde: the Chicago \ ers’ Federatic League, and ganizations Vv clubhouse. American Re rooms there.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers