Freeland Tribune Established ISSB. PUBLISHED EVERY MONDAY AND THURSDAY, BY THE TRIEUNE PRINTING COMPANY, LilileJ OFFICE: MAIR STREET ABOVE CENTRE. FREELAND, PA. SUBSCRIPTION RATES: One Year $1.50 Blx Mouths 75 Four Months .50 Two Months 25 The date which the subscription i 9 paid to if on ttie address label of each paper, the change of which to a subsequent date be comes a receipt for remittance. Keep tho flg" res iu advunce of the present date. Re- Sort promptly to this office whenever paper i not received. Arrearages must be paid When subscription is discontinued. Male all maniy orders, checks, eto,,payable to the Tribun Printing Company, Limited. If the march of improvement keeps up its lick they'll soon be changing the name of a sister southern city to Auto-Mobile, Ala., says the Louisville Evening Post. Europe is buying American shoes as never before. Naturally, we do not object, because we know that no mat ter how many of our shoes Europeans wear they never will be able to till them. General Wood prefers to stay in the army at a modern e salary than to be come governor of a trolley car com pany at a large one. He says there is something in life beside money. He is right, and he is as refreshing and courageous iu saying so as he was when he first did business with the {Span iards. The Italians are now usiiig artillery for the dissipation of hail storms. When small arms are transformed into plow shares, swords into pruning hooks aud artillery reserved only for fighting the idiosyueracies of the storm king then, indeed, can it be hoped that the day of the millennium is near. Nebraska last winter passed a law that women employed in manufactur ing, mechanical ami mercantile estab lishments should work only ten hours ft day, aud should have seats provided for them by their employers. Now that the law has come into force, a good many of the said employers have informed their female assistants that their services aro no longer required. ' The statute intended for their relief thus operates as an injury to them, settiug off the meanness of the Ne braska captain of female industry in a I mucdi stronger light than it has hith- j erto appeared. Cheap and haphazard methods of I road improvement, earth roads aud the employment of inferior material in order to save on the first e st—these aud other objectionable features of earlier roadinaking should bo aban doned for good and all by American roadtnakers. As population expands wealth increases and new devices of road locomotion come into use, the demand for better highways becomes more imperious. It is no longer merely the wagon loaded with pro duce which is to be considered, but • also the bicycle, the tourist's car riage and the automobile. Mosquitoes are now accused of con- j veying not only leprosy, yeliow fever, \ aud other contagious diseases, though j it is certain that they must share the j burden with flies aud other insects J that come into contact with sewage that has not been disinfected, and af- | terwards contaminate tho food. The j experiences in our army camps last ' summer proved that sufficiently. The i important lesson to be drawn from • this—constituting a great advance in medical science—is that visible in.se -ts are as dangerous foes to our health as ! the mueh-d scussed microscopic bacilli. | Flies cau be easily made harmless by simply disiufectiug tbe sewage where it remains exposed to the air. Mos quitoes are less easily dealt witli. Drainage and cultivation of swampy soil help to diminish their numbers, and petroleum or permanganate of po tassium have been found useful iu killing the larvie in the water. But mosquito-nets and veils in dangerous localities are the only things to be re lied on implicitlj*. >'H nirthplarr. A remark made by a 6-year-old boy on a certain occasion was the natural result of confusion in his small mind, but it caused amusement to the by et.anders. The house In which he had first seen the light of day had been torn down to make room for a wider street, and the little boy, holding fast to his father's hand, viewed the ruins with grief and amazement. "Why, papa!" he cried, sorrowfully. "Why, papa, I wasn't born anywhere now, was 17" Paris has circus buildings. THE SONG THE AXE. Fathered wa9 I by the forge, Cradled in leaping flame, Lulled by the clink and the clang Of hammers beating in turn. Now in the hewer's hand. Tempered and polished and edged, Swing I all day In tho sun, Swing I and chant this song! High on tho mountain cre3t. "Where tho great winds pipe and swirl, Tower the ancient pines, Booted a thousand years, Myriad summers have wnxed And waned in their odorous shade; Snows immemorial Drifted their branches through; Still their exultant heads Btse to tho limpid blue, Still they fearlessly loan To the surge of the swinging gale And shout down the trail o' the blast Pmnns .Eollanl Old they seem as the stars, Moveless as living rock, Lasting as earth itself! Lo, then come I, tho axe! Hover a moment aloft In eager and breathless poise, Then in a circle of light Leap to the cedar's root. Deep und deeper I bite To the heart of tho virgin wood, And the scent of Its bloodless wounds Fills all tho air with balm. Budden a tingling shock Thrills up the living trunk. Pulses along the boughs. Shivering prescience of death. Vainly the mighty mast Wrestles In agony, Then with a stormy sigh Trembles and yields and leans, Bweeps with thunderous crash Down to the bruised earthl Lo, 'tis myself I sing, Feller of oak and ash! Brother am I to tho sword, lled-edged slayer of men! Bide by side have wo hewn Faths for the pioneer From sea to sun-smitten seal Hark tb my chanted praisel Wild cascades In tho hills, Winds In the straining pines, Voices of woodmen all, BwelllDg in unison vast Shout thro' the sunlight days, Sing thro' the starlit nights, The sounding song o' the axe! —William Lucius Graves. Tfye Dream THcit Came True. S, —HERE was a hint j?® 1 1 °* autuma i n tlie I woodland tints, '{J jl where the colors shaded from soft est gray-green through russet t°ees to deepest *XY V red arid brown, and the breeze that swept over the up lands was suggestive of chilly Octo ber, but the golden spell of Indian snmmer lay on the valley, touching the ripe peaches with an added bloom and wooing the late roses to unfold their fragrant hearts before it was too late to give their sweetness to the dying summer. In the rectory orchard, under the shadows of the fruit-laden trees, vil lage lads and lasses hid and sought, aud out in the meadow the children laughed and played and danced to the music of their own voices. The Professor stood at the outer edge of a circle of infant revelers, his spectacles pushed up on his broad forehad, his soft Hombnrg hat tilted forward to shield his eyes iroin the sun. Gray eyes they were, with a keen ness in them that was reflective and that lent them a clearer vision for things that time had set at a distance lhan for present realities, i The iron-gray hair was brushed back nd outlined features that were not -nhandsomo, though their sternness ;ave him a semblance of severity, un >il he smiled. When the Professor smiled children understood that the tall figure with its inclination to stoop was not likely to prove aggressive, aud that the learn ing contained in that massive frame could be put aside with the spectacles, also that the Professcr might have been young once, before the weight of a laurel wreath had puckered his brows and powdered his hair with the frost that comes before winter. He was smiling now aud looking with appreciate interest at the game in progress. "Do you hear what they aro sing ing?" he asked tho rector's wife. Mrs. Erringtou detached herself from the tea urn to answer carelessly, " 'Nuts and May,' isn't it?" "The delighted irrelevance of child hood," pursued the Professor, "the sublime faith iu the impossible. 'Here we come gathering Nuts and May—so early in the morning!' Not content with demanding their autumn and their spring at the same time, they must have it early in the morning, too; all the world at their feet, with youth to make them enjoy it. They have faith enough to remove moun tains, but I am afraid the days of miracles are past." Mrs. Errington's glance lingered on him for a moment, and then traveled to where a girl in a white dress stood under the trees that bordered the rec tory garden. "There is Evadne," she said; "how fresh and cool aud sweet she looks. Don't you think so, Professor?" He adjusted his spectacles to give a conscientious auswer. "Miss Evadue is always pleasant to look at," he said, as lie gazed with a paiustakingjair in her direction; "at this distance " do not soe her so plain ly as I could wish." "And she is always pleasant to talk to," added Mrs. Erringtou; "go and ask her if she would like some tea, Professor." He went obediently, and the white figure moved to meet him, while the echo of the wards "cool and freehand sweet" floated still in his ears. "X am eent to ask you it you will have some tea," he eaid. "Is that meant for an excuse or an apology?" asked Evadne demurely, "Does my errand need either?" he questioned in return, with his usual gravity. "You seemed to consider so," said she, "in which, if you will not'think me conceited, I will confess you are unusual. There are people,"shecon tinued, noting his puzzled air, "v ho come and talk to me without any er rand at all—merely for the pleasure of the thing." A little smile was playing round [ her mouth, and through her curved eyelashes the sparkle of her eyes meant mischief. The Professor pushed his spectacles J up ngain; when poople were close to him he could see better without as sistance. "There aro people," he said, "who ] might venture to come to you on their j own merits, Miss Eva. lam not ono | of those fortunate few." "No?" she queried, lifting her eye brows, "yet your merits are by no means insignificant. They are public , property, Professor, and we are very j proud of them down here. I have even," she looked away from him, I "felt a little alarmed at the thought of them sometimes, and wtndered whether we all seemed very stupid and dull to so learned a person as you." "Stupid and dull," he echoed tho words involuntarily, while he was thinking what a dainty outline the contour of her cheek and chin made —like a pink sea shell, and what a singularly sweet intonation she had! "You agree that we are so," she said after an instant's offended silence. "You add enndor to your other mer its, Professor, I see. Well, the school treat is over. I think I must bo going homeward. Good evening." She stretched out a small white hand. He took it and considered it for a moment. "Do you go across the fields," he said, "or round by the road?" "Across the fields—when I have some one with me." "Should I count as some one, or am I too " "Too what—too candid?" "Too old," he said thoughtfully. She looked him up and down. "I suppose that you are twice my age." "More than that, I am sure." "Has any one over called you any- ; thing but Professor?" "My mother calls me John." "Any one else?" "No one, since I was a boy." They were crossing the meadow now. In the distance Mrs. Erringtou waved a goodby to them. They had forgotten about her. "Which would you rather be—your self at your age and with your knowl edge or au ignorant young person like ! me?" She had taken off her hat and was j dangling it by a ribbon from her arm. I Her hair was all ruffled, and one little tress with a glint of gold in it kissed her cheek lovingly. They had reached the stile and he j stoppodjto help her over it before he answered. Then he said: "Miss Eva, do you think it is pos sible for any one to gather nuts and May at the same time?" "Yes, if they get up early enough in the morning." "What difference does that make?" | "The difference of not leaving things till they are too late." He was still holding her hand. She gave it to him at the stile, and ap parently he had not remembered to give it back. Her eyes were like stars, and there was a rose-flush like day- j dawn on her cheeks. "How is one to know whether it is too late or not?" "I thought you knew everything, j Professor. And you called me stupid I aud dull just now, so my opinion can't ! be worth having." "I called you stupid and dull? Do , you know what I think you?" "You think me a vain, frivolous girl." "I think you the most perfect thing on God's earth." "Professor " "I have another name, Evadne." "When you have quite done with my hand " "I shall never have quite done with it. I want it for my own." "Such a usoless, silly little hand?" "Such a pink and white little hand. Like a May-blossom." Ho lifted it to his lips, and they were silent for a moment. "Evadne, is a miracle possible?" "What would be a miracle?" Bhe j said softly. He drew her with gentle insistence j into his arms, aud she raised hers and clasped them round his neck. "This is one," he answered; "it is the impossible come true." "It was never impossible," she mur mured, "only—you were asleep and dreaming, John, and now—you are awake, and it is early in the morn ing."—New York Times. Knife Duels In Spain. Knife duels are very frequent among tho lower classes of the cities in southuru Spain. When two are about to fight they blow whistles to attract spectators. Thsir left legs aro tied together at the knees, and then at a signal they begin attacking eaoh other with long knives. In a duel recently witnessed in Aliciente, one of the combatants received fourteen wounds and the other seventeen. A Queer Sign. In Holland, when a new baby comes to the house, they hang a pin cushion on the door. If the now baby is a boy it is a black pin cushion, and if a girl a white one. HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS. Delicious Cherry Dlslies* CHERRY SHORTCAKE. Stone, sweeten and mash the cher ries. Make and bake a shortcake aa for any fruit. Split in halves aud butter. Spread thick with cherries, cover with the other half of the short cake, aud put the rest of the cherries on top. CnERRY CUSTARD. Bring to a boiling point one quart of rich milk, add slowly four eggs previously beaten with four table spoonfuls of sugar and a piucbof salt. Stir constantly until it thickeus; re move from tbe fire aud pour over sweetened (stoned) cherries. Serve | cold. COMPOTE OF cnERRIES. Boil half a pound of sugar with three-fourths of a cup of water until 'it is a thick syrup. Drop iuto the syrup a pint aud a half of stoned cherries, let simmer gently for fifteen minutes, theu with a skimmer take the fruit out into a compote. Pour, iuto the syrup three-quarters of a gill of currant or pineapple juice and boil till thick, theu pour ou the cherries. Serve cold. CHERRY TAPIOCA, I Soak four tablespooufuls of tapioca in one pint of water over night. Next morning stone cherries enough to make a pint of fruit. Add the juico of the cherries, with a pint of water, to the tapioca, stir in enough sugar to make it very sweet and let simmer for fifteen minutes; theu add tha fruit aud cook five minutes longer. Set on ice until ready to serve. Serve with whipped cream flavored to taste. MOLDED CHERRIES. Beat the yolks of three eggs with three tablespoonfuls of sugar, add \ one cup of rich milk and cook till thick; remove from the firef, add oue fotirth box of dissolved gelatine, stir well and straiu. Stir in half a cup of cream and flavor with cherry or pine apple. Line the sides of the dish with lady-fingers, cover the bottom with cherries and pour iu the mix ture. Continue the layers of cherries and custard until the dish is full. Serv* oold with whipped cream. CHERRY JELLY. ! Sour, juicy cherries are the best for jelly. Remove tbe pits, put the cher ries iuto a granite or porcelain kettle and place it over the fire. When soft mash, squeeze through a thin bag and measure the juice. Add au equal quantity of granulated sugar that has been kept in the oven nutil hot. Return the juice and sugar to the kettle aud cook fast for about fif teen minutes, or uutil it jells from the skimmer. If the syrup only drops j I from oue place it is uot doue, but i when it drips from two or three it is ; I ready to take ofl'. Pour it into cups ; aud glasses aud let it stand uutil the j ue*t day. Theu seal the jars. CHERRY COBBLER. ' Grease an eartheu pudding dish, ! line the sides and bottom with a crust : I made of two cupfuls of Hour, a pinch j of salt, two teaspooufuls of baking | powder, two tablespoonfuls of cold ' butter, mixed through the flour, and | enough milk to make a soft dough, j ! Fill this with a layer of pitted sour : cherries, sjirinkle with sugar and a | little cinnamon, theu lay strips of the crust in the shape of diamonds. : t Bake about three-quarters of au hour, ; SAUCE FOR CHF.URY COBBLER. ! To make a delicious sauce will re- i 1 quire three-fourths of a cup of sugar, j one-half cup of butter and oue scaut j tablespoonful of flour. Braid them i together until smooth, then pour over ! | this euough boiling water to thin it, and let it boil, beiug careful to stir j ; frequently so that it will nor burn or I become lumpy. Houftt'ltold Hint*. When you want to cut whalebone, ' warm it by the tire. To freshen old furniture, wash in | lime water; when dry, apply a coat of j oil. Chopped peppers are an excellent addendum to minced chicken, veal or 1 | lamb. Flint glass makes a charming re- I ceptacle for long-stemmed flowers, 1 j such aa lilies, tall roses, etc. Eggs may be preserved for a month by boiling them one minute 01 steep- ! ing them for a time iu sweet oil. ! The best cement for china is made | of pulverized Hiut glass ground well with the white of au egg. It will staud any amount of wear, j Wip tarnished or fly-specked gas and lamp fixtures with a damp cloth; i let 'dry, theu cover with a coat of I white paint; when this is dry, regild„ I Orange juice over strawberries offers a variety iu their service. The berries should be covered with sugar and the juice of several oranges. They should be chilled iu the refrigerator for au hour before serving. Chinese and Japanese mattings can he cleaned and their colors very much restored by the simple use of salt and water, with which it must be sponged, but care must be taken not to make it too wet and too dry with a coarse ; towel. Mattings should be swopt twice or three times a week. Sweep with brush and then go over them with a cloth on the broom. Salt and water is very good for a matting, but the matting should be rubbed dry after the salt has been used. A florist states that strongly scented flowers should not be packed in a box with those of more delicate fragrance for a shipment that will last many hours. Even two hours of such com k panionship will have a bad effect upon 1 the more lightly odorous. I TALES OF FLOCK f • ADD ADVENTURE. | Shipwrecked on the Auatrallan lteefl. There was small chance for any boat that sailed into the path of the fearful hurricane that for weeks had swept ravenously across the South Sea and along the yueenslaiid coast. The waters had seethed and roared and tossed, and mauy a good boat was hurled under them by a single blast of the pitiless wind. Two of the stoutest shipsafloat were the freight ship Loch Sloy and Her Majesty's warship Pylades. But these two now lie wrecked on reefs off the Australian shore. Of the tight which the Loch Sloy bravely made and lost there are three survivors to toll. Twenty-four lives Severe lost with the Loch Sloy, whose wreck was one of the most shocking disaster that have ever been known in the South ern seas. The boat herself was shat tered into bits. The only men aboard her who did not perish endured such an ordeal of suffering and starvation as has rarely been described. Women who had been hurled shrieking from the masts where they clung suffered violent deaths in the water. it was in January that the Loch Sloy sailed from Glasgow in command of Captain Nichol, with a crew of five apprentices, twelve able seamen, two sail-makers, a cook, a carpenter and a boy. Mrs. Nichol accompanied her husband, and the other passengers were Mrs. Cartridge, Captain and Mrs. Leicester, John Lamb, Walter Logan and James Kirkpatriok. 111-luck pursued the ship from the start. Storms alternated with appal ling seasons of fog and were followed by leakages and a train of mishaps. When Kangaroo Island was sighted the ship's people set up a shout of joy. Had the island been sighted a few hours sooner the wreck could have been avoided. The lack of a light house was the chief cause of the dis aster. It was in the middie of the mate's watch on the morning of May 5. "Land ho!" shouted the lookout. The crew were sunning themselves under the lee rail, enjoying a cup of coffee after the hard work of the storm. The ship was going like a race-horse. Breakers loomed up ahead amidst the eddying sens. " 'Bout ship!" shouted the captain, and all hands jumped for the halyards, The helm was thrown hard aport, but it was too late. The ship bumped heavily, ripped open, and before a boat could be cast loose she was among the breakers and swept clean by the wicked waters every moment. She had struck against a treacherous reef. The knowledge that the ship was doomed and that all lives were in dan ger spread over the ship with myster ious swiftness. Passengers and crew, silent and white-faced, struggled to save themselves by climbing the rig ging. The women, trembling with the horror of it all,climbed to the mizzen top. The mates, seven of the crew and the three passengers followed when they could. Others clambored to the mainmast and foremast. In three minutes the mainmast (ell with a crash over the weather side. Those who had been clinging to it were plunged into the sea. Wave after wave ate away the good ship's strength till her supports crumbled and gave way. The foremast toppled and fell. A few minutes later the mizzeu went, carryiug all with it, and the last hope of saving the ship van ished. For the drowning men and women there seemed only death ahead. The huge waves were batter ing the ship's fragments against the reef, and land wa3 a mile away. "I seized a life-belt," said William J. Simpson, an apprentice,and one of the survivors, "and I remember noth ing else till I found myself floating on some wreckage and the shore not far away. I managed to cling to some rocks, where I found Mitchell, Mc- Millan and Kirkpatrick. "We picked up some cans of her ring and got from them the strength to mulce our way to a cave on the shore." From this point the story of the survivors is pitiful enough. From the cave they crawled to the summit of a cliff', an unspeakably barren place, where not a drop of water could be found. The next day Mitchell and Simpson, suffering se verely from thirst and hunger, as well as from the pain of exposure, made their way along the cliff for several miles in the hope of finding either a human being or some wafer. Failure added to their bodily torture. They had not the strength to return to their companions, and spent the night under some bushes. The next day Mitchell and McMil lan, weak, but not yet hopeless, set out for water. McMillan came back to tell the good, news that a spring had been found and to got a can to fill with it. The others never heard from him again nor found the water that he had discovered. They believed that weakness overcame him and that he fell from the cliff. For three weeks the surviving men led au existence of increasing torture. The only wonder is that they did not die. Occasional rain guvo them their only relief, and they grew so thin from laok of food that they were liter ally masses of bones. On May 27 they found a gully of water, and next day, somewhat revived, Mitchell and Simpson started out to make their way along the coast, leaving Kirk patriok, too helpless to move from sickness and exhaustion. In a day or two the two krave scouts came upon I Cape Berda l'ghtbonse. There was no one to help thorn tre, but they had no strength to go further. So they slept within its shelter an,l sub sisted upon such food as they oould find until they were rescued by chance later. The tough, dry grass that grew here and there in little clumps near the lighthous was devoured eagerly by the famished men. Horrible as it seems, they were glad to seize for food the dead penguins which they found there or the bits of shellfish, long washed ashore. This wretched subsistence, however, was almost worse that none, and the men could barely have lived another day had they not been found and cared for. Resetting the Rahy. A house on tire is apt so to upset the inmates that they throw the look ing-glass out of the window and carry the mattress down the stairs. Miss Kingsley described, in "West African Studies," a scene in which she herself and a native family were turned topsy turvy by au invasion of the terrible driver-ants. She writes: I was in a little village, and out of a hut came the owner and his family and all the household parasitos pell mell, leaving the drivers in posses sion; but the mother and father of the family, when they recovered from this unwonted burst of activity, showed such a lively concern and such un mistakable signs of anguish at having left something behiud them in the hut, that I thought it must be the baby. Although not a family man myself, the i<f°a of that innocent infant per ishing in such an appalling manner roused me to action, and I joined the frenzied group, crying, "Where him live?" "In him far corner for floor 1" shrieked the distracted parents, and into that hut I charged. Too true! There in the corner lay the poor little thing, a mere inert black mass with hundred of cruel drivers already swarming upon it. To seize it and give it to the distracted mother was, as the reporter would say, "The work of an instant." She gave a cry of joy and dropped it instantly into the water-barrel, where her husband held it down with a hoe, chuckling contentedly. Shiver not, my friend, at the callousness of the Ethiopian; that there thing wasn't an infant—it was a ham! Refiet by Wolves. Fortunately for John Bourko, of Mattawa, Ontario, a hungry wolf is not very particular about what he eats. Bourke was making his way on foot through the woods, says the Pem broke Observer, when he was chased by a pack of wolves. The birch-tree in whioh he took refuge was soon sur rounded. He happened to have matches in his poeket, so he diverted himself, for a few hours, with stripping bark from the tree, lighting it and dropping his little torches down on the ravenous animals. Tho fire kept them away from the tree, but they did not go far. Finally as darkness drew on, a man named Toineny, who had been wait ing at the camp where Bourke was ex pected to pass the night, got uneasy and started out to meet him. Tomeuy had his rifle, and long before he ap proached the tree Bourke's yells ad vised him that it was needed. Tomeny shot two or three of the wolves on the outskirts of the pack. The other wolves started to eat them, and Bourke slid down from the tree. When the dead wolves were devoured the others took up the chase of the men—aud then again Tomeuy's rifle cracked. The men reached the camp | in safety, but only because Tomeny' was a good marksman and able to | keep the wolves busy eating each other. Charming a I.lon. While Itev. W. J. Davis was living | in Africa, his little son John, boy i of four years, went too near to a chained lion in a neighbor's yard. It was called a pet lion, but was so wild and vicious that no living thing was safe within the radius of its beat. ' ) The unsuspecting child stumbled | within its reach, and the lion instantly j felled him to the ground and set its [ huge paw on his head. There was i great consternation among the by standers, but none were able to de liver the child. African Nows tells the story of his escape, which seems equally due to the lion's love for music and a young woman's presence of mind. Miss Moreland, seeing the peril ol [ the child, ran up-stairs, seized a accordion and hastened to a window which looked out upon the lion. There, with a shout to arrest its attention, she begau playing a tune. The lion at once released its prey, went the length of its chain toward its iliii charmer and stood in rapt attention. The boy, in the meantime, got up and ran to his mother. He never thought of crying till he entered the house and saw how excited every one was; then, quite out of danger, he had a good cry on his own account. How Mounted Coßßacks Catch Sturgeons. Novel indeed is the method by which the Eussian Cossacks catch sturgeon in the frozen rivers of the Ural Mountains. The Cossacks mount their horses and ride across the frozen river until they come to the desired place, where they dismount and cut through the ice until they have a lit tle pool of open water extending al most across uie current from shore to shore. A net, stretching across the river, is sunk. The horses are remounted, aud the Cossacks ride up the river for perhaps a half dozen miles. Here they turn about, and, forming in a straight line, ride down the river on the ice toward the net at full gallop. The thunder ing noise of the horses' hoofs terrifies the fish, and in rushing away to avoid the noise, that is coming so swiftly behind they are driven down the river and into the aet. AN ARTIFICIAL SILVER MINE. How Uncle Sara Checks the Waste of ths Colu-Makeu In the Mint. In ona oorner of the melting room at the New Orleans mint is a large iron tank in which the newly cast silver bars are dropped, hissing, to cool off. At the end of a hard day's work the surface of the water shows afaintrain bow-hued scum, like the metallic lus ter of stagnant pools, seen near a dye house. It comes iu part from micro scopic flakos of silver that have scaled off in the cooling. The water, when changed, ruds down a pipe that ter minates in the bottom of a cistern, which contains a layer of mud a couple of feet deep. As the water seeps up and through, the mud acts as a filter and catches the particles of preoious ; metal, so in time it becomes an arti i ficial silver mine. Once every quarter i the stuff is scooped out and passed through a reduction process. The re sult is a silver brick, worth maybe SoO. When it oomes to money-making, j Uncle Sam;can beat the world for stinginess. The artificial silver mine ! in the yard of the old mint premises is only one of his numerous sohemes for checking waste. When the cas ters raise their glowing ladles from the melting pots a shower of sparks fly from the molten surface. They are mostly incandescent particles of oar bon, but among them are pin points of silver, almost gaseous. Some fall among the ashes and clinkers beneath the furnaces, and when the fire boxes are raked out at night the contents are scrupulously presorved. Down below, in the basement, is a great revolving crusher that grinds the debris into fine powder, and when enough accumulates it is sold by sample to a Northern smelter and treated like ordinary ore. Ncr is this all. Every evening the floor of the melting room is swept far more carefully than ever a lady's par lor and the sweepings are preserved along with the ashes. Once in three months or so the soot is scraped out of all the flueß and chimneys and finds its way to the same receptacle. From the ashes, clinkers, sweepings and soot of the New Orleans mint Uncle Sam derives a larger income than the average bank president. The cruci bles used in melting are good for about three charges; then they are wheeled down to the basement, crushed, and sharo the fate of the clinkers. The pores of their earthen sides are full of virgiD silver, and the gritty brown powder into which they are ground yields an] average of ]s2oo a ton. A wornout cruoible is really worth morf than a new one. WISE WORDS. Slow progress on the mountain side may indicate rapid ascent. The man who has injured you will he the last to forgive you. Give to every human being every opportunity you claim for yourself. Few men are good listeners except to their own foolish, prosy chatter. Fashion rules the largest empire and collects her tax in gold and blood. An honest man is one of the few great works that can be seen for noth ing. There is hope for all wno are soft ened and penitent. There is hope for all sueh. We live in an age of fact, not fio tiou; for every effect is assigned some simple and natural cause. Every great and commanding move ment iu the annals of the world is the triumph of enthusiasm. Our characters are formed and sus tained by ourselves and by our own notions and purposes, and not by others. Calumniators may usually be trusted to time and the slow but steady justice of publio opinion. There are two ways of attaining an important end—force and persever ance. Force falls to the lot only of tho privileged few, but austere and sustaiped perseverance can be prac tised by the most insignifioant. Ite silent power grows irresistible with time. Blr Heads of Wheat. The productiveness of the San Joaquin Valley was probably never better exemplified than when the argest heads of wheat ever known to have been grown were raised on the big ranch of Supervisor Thomas Car michael, near Salida, Stanislaus Countv. A mesh which oontains seven kernels is very rare, and tho average is four, but on one head of this re markable wheat there are sixteen com pletely matured kernels. The average number of kernels to a head is thirty five, but there are 141 on this particu lar one, which is an inch in diameter. The other heads run from 100 to 132 kernels, and it is estimated that an aore of this grain would harvest about 140 bushels, or sixty sacks. This grain does not run quite as heavy through out the whole of the 100 acres owned by Mr. Carmichael, but it grew in streaks. The wheat is what is known as the Golden Gate Club variety, and its immense size is attributed to the best of cultivation and seasonable rains, which were received at the most favorable times. San Francisco Chronicle. A Great Hen Story* The meanest man on earth lives in the town of Chazy. He put a large poroelain egg in the nest of an ambi tious hen and found that the eggs she afterward laid were increased in size. Then he put a goose egg in the nest, and the aforesaid hen laid an egg just as large. He was so pleased with the BoUfeme that he put a whitewashed football in the nest and waited results. When he went the next time to search for eggs he found one as big as ths football, but no hen in eight. Secur ing the egg, he saw engraved on it these words: I m no ostrich, but I have done my best." Later he found the hen inside the egg,—Plattsburgh Press.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers