FREELAND ERIBUit.: ESTABLISHED 18S8. PUBLISHED EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY, j IIY THE TRIBUNE PRINTING COMPANY. Limited OFFICE; MAIN STREET A HOVE CENTRE. I LONO DISTANCE TELEPHONE. SUBSCRIPTION KATES FREELAND.— The TUIHCNE is delivered by j carriers to subscribers in Freelandatthe rate ' of 12H| cents per month, payable every two mouths, or $1.50 n year, payable iu advance 1 The TRIBUNE may be ordered direct form the ; carriers or from the ofllce. Complaints of ' Irregular or tardy delivery service will re- i ceivc prompt attention. BY MAIL —The TRIBUNE is rent to out-of- 1 town subscribers for $1.5.) a year, payable in j advance; pro rata terms for shorter periods. ! The date when the subscription expires is on j the address label of each paper. Prompt re- j uewals must be made at the expiration, other wise the subscription will be discontinued. I Entered at the Postoflflce at Freeland. Pa., i as Second-Class Matter, Make all money orders, checks, eto.,payable '' to the Tribune Printing Company, Limited. KIEL CANAL Bo Par the Enterprise Comes Out with a Deficit. Th<? administration of the Kiel ca- j nal, Germany, has lately published a report for the year included between ■ Apri' 1, 1898, and March 31, 1899. The number of vessels which have passed through the canal during that period i reached 25,816. of which 11.005 repre- j sent steam vessels and 14,811 sailing ( vessels, etc. The total tonnage is es timated at 3.117,840. These figures ! show an increase over the preceding ' year of 2.70S vessels and 648,000 tons. The receipts of the canal during the j year amount to about $400,000, which is an increase of SBO,OOO or 20 per cent., says the Scientific American. As i to the different nations using the canal, Germany naturally takes the ] lead with 87 per cent of the total rum- ! ber of vessels, and 68 per cent of the tonnage; England has about 9 per cent, which is an Increase over the preceding year. Denmark and Sweden have respectively C.9 and 5.7 per cent, showing a slight diminution. Rus sia, whose proportion was 2.54 per i cent in 1897-S. has now 2.29. From a financial point of view, the situation is considerably better than for the preceding period, the deficit being but SIOB,OOO against $245,000. The receipts ; have increased about 26 per cent and the expenses diminished 9 per cent. The report brings out the fact that as the Kiel canal has been constructed mainly from a strategic point of view ' it is not to be expected that it will give any considerable profit; never theless, the constant increase in the ' revenue leads one to expect that the receipts may in time come to equal and even exceed the expense of main tenance. BIG SCHOONERS LAUNCHED. How Britons View Our Latest American Ven tures in Sailing Ships. America has just turned out from the ship-building yards of Maine the two biggest schooners ever launched. One a five-master and the other creates a r.ew record by carrying no fewer than six masts—each of them with over a hundred feet of Oregon pine in the low er mast alone. The six-master is more than three hundred feet long, has 12,000 square yards of canvas and can carry 5,000 tons of coal—a species of freight mentioned by our Boston correspondent with a keen appreciation of England's present interest in Transatlantic coal I supplies. Most wonderful detail of all I she can be navigated by a crew of 14 men. whereas our correspondent claims, a square-rigged vessel would require twice as many. This is a point on which sailing experts may differ with him, but the main point is that a crew small in numbers can handle a huge carrying machine deriving its motive power from the inexpensive breezes of hlaven. Most ordinary people thought, and think, that the d.ay of the sailing ves sel is past. Sentimental folk with an eye for picturesque marine effects may he heard on any excursion steamer ad miring the casual barque or brigantinc encountered in the lower reaches of the Thames (full-rigged ships are less often met with), and deploring the crowding out of the graceful sailing vessel by the ugly and workmanlike steamer. It seems that the plaint is quite uncalled for. The steamer has displaced the sail ing ship for all time as a carrier of mails and passengers and of perishable goods that need rapid transit for the market, but there is plenty of work for thft good ship with stout wooden hull and flutter ing wings of canvas. Her day is by no means over. Possibly a new era of ac tivity is before the sail-driven vessel. With the price of coal ever rising and the difficulty of obtaining sailors and firemen ever on the increase, it may be found better economy to use the slower sailing vessel than the hurrying steamer, with great saving of the initial expense of powerful engines and the current ex penses of crew and fuel.—London Ex press. England at War. Everything Dear. Needless to say. because the income tax has risen, because coals are dear, everyone else thinks it right to increase their charges. Washerwomen, invaria bly bad. arc now proposing to become dearer. Some of the most amusing war pictures show us officers washing their dirty linen in biscuit tins, and doing laundry businesv themselves under diffl - ctllties. The Japanese soldiers are wis er- 4 hcv wear paper shirts, said to be exceedingly light, soft and as servicea ble as cotton, while after use they can be thrown away. Soon we shall he 1 educed to the same. Paper collars arc already with us. but paper shirts, table cloths and pocket handkerchiefs mat toon follow suit.—London Graphic. It has been estimated that from 90.000 to 100.000 deer feed in the forests of Scotland and that 4,000 stags are killed annually. A LITTLE WHILE. It is so natural that we fall asleep I Like tired children when the day Is j done. | I*hut I would question why the living weep | When death has kissed the laughing j I Hps of one. j We do not sigh when golden skies have donned The purple shadows and the gray of night, Because we know the morning lies beyond, And we must wait a little while for j light. So when, grown weary with the care j and strife, Our loved ones find in sleep the peace 1 We should not weep, but learn to count this life A pivlude to the one beyond the grave; , And thus he happy for them, not dis tressed, ! But lift our hearts with love to God, j and smile, j And we, anon, like tired ones will rest, I If we will hope and wait —a little while. —Ella Bentley. I KENNEDY, i I : £ BY ANNABEL DWIGHT. g ! A pretty cove making in from the I ocean, a strip of white sand, and some I tall, gray cliffs for a background; and ! such a bright, breezy morning! The ! cool waves leaped joyously in the June sunshine, and caught a thousand glit j tering rays in the golden light, j Kennedy was just pushing off for 1 the yacht, as Beatrice Grunt, aecom- I panied by her friend. Miss Lizzie Fill- j j ton. caine down to the pier, j Kennedy was the new skipper. The ' last one, Dawson, had been discharged ' j for drunkenness, and this man put in ! ! his place. ] Kennedy was dark and handsome, of J j magnificent build, and had a decidedly j picturesque look, in his red shirt and | ; white straw hat. j Beatrice, who was quite an artist, i looked at him appprovingly with her j I great, cahn. Innocent eyes, as, seeing I that she wished to speak with him, lie i J brought his boat about, and stepped I S out upon the pier. "Is the Spray nearly ready, Ken- i nedy?" she asked, graciously. "Our j | party arrived today, and papa says we are only waiting now for you and j the wind," a little smile revealed the j | tips of her white teeth, j "If the wind Is fair, we can start to- j I morrow. Miss Beatrice," said Ken j nedy, with an answering smile, which | held an undeiiook of tenderness, as ids gaze rested upon the girl's fair face, j "Very well," she returned, In calm | ; unconsciousness that the handsome j j skipper had presumed to admire her. j j Slie turned away, and as she did so, | a darned gray silk glove fell upon the ! pier. j Lizzie Fulton who was rather near- \ sighted looking back, whispered bur- I riedly to Beatrice: I "I believe that man lias picked up j your glove." J Beatrice turned back, j Kennedy was standing quietly, with I folded arms, looking after her. "Kennedy," with a sort of cold state- ! , liness, "did you pick tip my glove?" j "Your glove. Miss Beatrice?" he , j said, imperturbably. "Oh 110!" And then, as the young ladies moved ! I on, he threw himself once more into II the boat, and pulled swiftly for the j ' Spray, riding gracefully at anchor ! just off the shore. Once on the deck of the dainty yacht, he drew from an inner pocket or ids | | loosened sliirt a small, crumpled, gray | | glove. This he smoothed gently 111 I his strong brown palm, tenderness and j amusement both straggling in the smile which crept into his hazel eyes. | I "A proud little lady," he said softly, j as he put the glove hack again. ! It was a jolly party which left Grant Ledge on the following morning, | for a cruise along the Atlantic const, j Mr. Grant was the reputed possessor of n handsome fortune; anil his moth r less daughter, lovely, talented, and j just 111 had invited most of her own 1 particular set, with one or two elder- ; ly ladies, for propriety's sake, and now they were oft for a month or two of de -1 j lightful sailing. Among the party there were one or two would-he lovers of the girl, and occasionally, to escape their scntlmen- 1 [ tal speeches, she would find Kennedy, and talk to him about the weather, ! I and the course of the yacht, etc.. and Kennedy, thoroughly understanding her maneuvers, would aid her with only half-repressed amusement in ids eyes. But one time, as she approached the wheel where he was standing a lurch of the vessel threw her forward, and as he caught her upon one arm, he brushed his lips lightly over the bright brown waves of her hair. A delicate, bright color flooded her cheeks instant ly. and the small head crested itself with tlie statoiiness of a queen. "Kennedy I" she cried, indignantly; '-you forget yourself! FTow dare you presume so?" Kennedy's dark face smiled down at her with a conscious strength and manliness. "I dare to 'presume' In many ways. Miss Bee, if I eared to," he said, calm ly. "You must not call me Miss Bee," the girl corrected, haughtily, fire flash ing from her clear brown eyes; "that name is only for the friends in my own station. And do not smile at me in that way. Kennedy! Your very look is presumptuous." Kennedy bit ids smiling lips under his henvy moustache, and turned his gaze seaward. "Miss Beatrice," he said gently; "you are 'wv fortunate lady, as proud as you are happy. Pray heaven that you may always rule as royally inyourking (loin as you <lo now. You think lue presumptuous. Your father's skipper (luring to touch a tress of your love ly hair! I am quite innocent of pre sumption. Except in a pecuniary way, 1 am the peer of any man on this vessel. Proud as you may he, my little queen, Kennedy dares to love you with a love that will never die!" Turning his eyes once more upon her, he saw that she was trembling, and that she seemed powerless to move, with her wide eyes lixed upon him in a sort of fascination. The night breeze was blowing up cool. Kennedy let the wheel slip about, and taking a wrap from the seat, folded it deftly about her. "There!" he said soothingly. "It is cold here; go back to your friends. Kennedy will trouble you no more do not fear." And he returned to his post, not again looking toward the slender fig ure which moved slowly away from him. The next day Beatrice, with a great assumption of carelessness. Inquired of her father where he had found Ken nedy, and who the skipper was. "Why, 1 thought you knew," was the ready response. "Kennedy is the son of old Lady Kennedy, down at Birch Landing, two miles below our place. She is a reduced gentlewoman, and her son is a tine fellow—very much above his present position, lie was a wild boy, however; ran away to sea, and learned navigation ill a hard school, lie might have sailed master of a large steamer to China, but his mother, to whom he Is quite devoted, is growing <dd and feeble, and lie would not leave her. although he could find 110 employment suited to his ca pacity. lie applied for Dawson's place, and 1 was glad enough to get him, for he is a thoroughly good sail or." Beatrice was very quiet all the rest of that day, and watched Kennedy shyly from the corner of her long laslied eyes. But to all appearance, he had quite forgotten the little episode of the preceding night, meeting some chance remark of hers with a gravely respectful salute, and immediately af ter requesting her In the most mat ter of fact manner to step aside, as the great boom swung about. There were 110 more cozy chats with Kennedy. Beatrice was angry with herself to find that she missed them; for tlie man could be a most delight ful and entertaining companion. Somehow his passionate words, so different from any she had ever list ened to, haunted Beatrice. The sense less compliments of the young gentle men 011 board the yacht wearied her. Kennedy had told her wonderful stories of the sea and strange coun tries. She longed to lie again 011 the old, pleasant footing with him, but she was too proud. At last, when they were Hearing home, came a terrible gale, when the heavens were black above them and the sea black beneath, and ail pande monium seemed to be let loose, us the storm shrieked about them. Beatrice, half dead with terror, felt the Spray crash upon rocks, and was conscious presently of Kennedy's voice in her ear, and Kennedy's strong anus bearing her across the deck. She clung close to him. not too proud now to hide her wild, white face against the coarse blouse. "The others first," she snid, when she became conscious that he was making preparations to send her ashore 111 one of the boats with the rest of the party. So she remained with her father and Kennedy. Then a line was rigged to help them over. "You go first Mr. Grant," said the skipper, "and I will bring Beatrice. Go," he insisted, gently, as the old man hesitated; "I will surely bring Beatrice," and he smiled a strangely grand, fearless smile Into the father's eyes as he drew the girl toward him. "Yes, papa." said Beatrice. "Do not fear; I know Kennedy will save me." She clasped her hands about the man's neck, and stood so, looking back at her father as he swung himself over the side of the vessel. And Kennedy did save her. They came ashore, Beatrice half senseless in his arms, but alive and unharmed. They were all saved, and a week later saw them in their own home. Beatrice was quite ill for a day or two, but when she was able to come down stairs, she sent for Kenendy. He came in. (lark and handsome in bis splendid young manhood, and smiled at the slender ilgure In its white wrapper. "I sent for you," she said shyly, "to ask your forgiveness for my foolish treatment of you. Papa," laying a white hand on her father's coatsleeve. "you told me not long since, to choose a husband. I have chosen!" and she made a swift gesture toward Kennedy, which brought him to her side. "Bless my soul!" cried papa Grant, laughing a little, and growing very red in the face, "perhaps Kennedy doesn't choose you!" "Mr. Grant," snid Kennedy, framing the girl's sweet face in his strong, warm hands, and kissing, tenderly and reverently the drooping white lids and the red lips. "I love her, and 1 do choose her above all other women. I would give my life to make her happy." Not a word about his poverty and her riches—no cringing semblance of self-destruction. Kennedy was quite as proud irtlils way as Boa trice herself. "Well, well," said Mr. Grant, wink ing a tear out of Ills kindly eyes, "you deserve her, if anybody does, Kennedy. Yon saved her life. Be good to her, Kennedy, If you don't wont me to make your life a burden to you!" Kennedy Biniled, without au answer and took a crumpled glove from his pocket. "I couldn't help it," he declared, as Beatrice caught it from him with a , little stamp of her dainty foot. "I j couldn't, and wouldn't, have given up that precious little glove if my life de pended upon it!" And he kissed her again with an audacity that was refreshing to be hold.—Saturday Night KNAPSACKS OF MANY NATIONS. EIICKHII SOMICTH' the Ujjlilont IIUCIIIIHO They ICely More L'pon Traußportn. When the Germans heard of the re cent enormous casualty list on the j fatal Aldcrshot field day, about which official inquiry lias been held, there was much self-complacent head-wag ging and many unkind things were i said regarding the stamina and marching capacity of Thomas Atkins. As a matter of fact, any body of troops under indentical conditions would have liad an equal casualty list; but the Germans do not realize these conditions, because in their maneuvers they, and indeed all the crack contin ental armies, without doubt, "do these things better." But the Germans can march and so can the Frenchmen and Russians, and, moreover, the two form er in "marching order" carry a* big ger load on tlieir backs than the Brit ish soldier. Marching with tliem is an important accomplishment, and one not to be taken for granted. The German recruit, after lie has had liis parade-drill ground thoroughly into him, is taken out to stretch his legs. First, lie marches in uniform only, then lie Is given a rifle to carry, next his knarand " nn until his march ing order is at full weight. i>unng ah tli.x tin- distances are being gradually lengthened, and finally the pace is increased. When trained he is going his 20 miles regularly twice a week, and ho may be called upon to do a 30 mile march occasionally, and, fit as lie is, he accomplishes it "oil bis head." That Tommy Atkins can march, too, nobody will deny, but when compar ing liis comparatively spasmodic pedestrian efforts with those of the foreigner, general conditions must bo taken into account and bore he does not. as a rule, compare too favorably except after a fortnight or less in the field. Then, again, though some of our authorities differ on the point, lie must have a breakfast to march up on, and a small amount of food every live hours or so, and an occasional mouthful of water to wash the dust out of his throat. They get all those tilings 011 the con tinental maneuvers, as a matter of course, in ours it is not always so— in fact, an officer writing from the front has said that so far as hard ships and lack of food are concerned, the Transvaal is a paradise compared to Salisbury Plain as it formerly was. The continental soldier carries a heavier kit on his back than the Brit ish soldier because he relies less up on liis transport, and 110 matter where the baggage train is he can always pitch liis tent at night and roll him self up In his blanket. When in heavy marching order Tom my Atkins carries a coat and cape, mess tin (comprising plate, frying pan and kettle), a valise holding spare uni form, shirts, socks, boots, brushes, etc., a canvas haversack for small articles and a water bottle. Tills weighs complete, with rifle, pouches, bayonet and 100 rounds of ammuni tion 00 pounds. The German is provided with a great coat, one blanket and good sheet, a quarter of a tent and pole, a mess tin (which for the present is also his water bottle) and an axe. His valise contains a spare pair of boots, three pairs of socks or foot rags if he is a Bavarian), spare uniform and fatigue dress brushes etc. The whole equip nnent,. with bayonet, rifle, and 150 rounds of ball cartridge, weighs 72 pounds. The Frenchman carries much the same, Including tent section and blah ket, but 110 waterproof sheet or haver sack. The company cooking pots are divided up among the men. A drink ing cup and spade completes liis rig out, which weighs, with rifle, bayonet and 110 rounds of ammunition, 72 pounds. The Russian carries only 08 pounds of kit, but then he lias 110 blanket or waterproof sheet. He is only bur dened with 75 rounds of ammunition, which is fastened about liim in some what clumsy fashion. So far as food is concerned the red coat. for all tin* millions that are spent on him, really fares worse than ins conscript comrades. With them biscuit and coffee or chocolate at 5 а. m. is the rule. Dinner is at 'l2, and consists—and this is on maneu vers, too—of soup. meat, salad and beer for the Germans, and one pint of wine per man for the French. At б.30 is a supper of cold meat, salad, bread and cheese and more wine and beer. The Russian menu is varied with salt fish, but he fares well on the whole.—Loudon Express. American I.ace Curtains. There is a general impression that nil lace curtains are imported, but it has been stated recently by a dealer that 4,500,000 pairs of curtains are made annually by the dozen large mills now operating in the United States. It is only within 15 years, however, that Chis has become the case, the first mill having been opened in 1865 in this state. It was thought at first that the lace produced here could not equal the English in quality, but in a few years the American manufacturers were making lace cur tains of as flue quality as the import ed.—New Yark Tribune. The Clock. Our little clock, mamma's and mine, High on her mantel dwells, And when one knows just how it goes Such pleasant things it tells. Thus when it points for tea at four It says of us. ".lust two hours more!" Gladly at rive it chimes this song— "One hour is not so very long." t We understand its ticks. Then, settling in the window seat. We hark for footsteps on the street, For father comes at six. —Trenton (N. J.) American. Farts About Pontage Stamps. Hardly more than 50 years ago Un cle Stun began to use postage stamps. At that time they were sold in solid sheets and the letter writer who didn't have a pair of scissors handy frequent ly spoiled several stamps and his tem per into the bargain in his effort to get one whole stomp for postage. Loss and inconvenience from this cause were so great that the government of fered a liberal prize for a device which would overcome the nuisance. The first machine submitted cut the stumps 'entirely apart, but the perfo rating machine was soon after adopt ed by the postoffiee department and has been used ever since. Years ago, before people learned to use a sponge instead of licking a stamp, great care was used in provid ing exceptionally good paper and mucilage. The government lias since saved money by adopting cheaper ma terials. The annual disposal of post age stamps in the United States is en ormous. During the year ending June 30, 1801, the government received $41,432,120.50 income from letter post age. It is safe to put the total number of two-cent stamps used each year at over 2,000,000,000. She Was Seared. It was in the kitchen of a small flat. The occupants, in the order of their importance, were a little girl three years of age, her loving mother and doting grandmother. The two latter named were engaged in an animated conversation on some interesting top ic, when the grandmother suddenly discovered that the teakettle was steaming away and needed replenish ing from the hydrant. She took the kettle from the stove, hut had scarcely taken two steps when she collided with the child. There were two almost simultaneous shrieks, and then tlie mother, uttering a third one, darted forward and caught the cherub In her arms, her frantic excla mations mingling with the agonized wail of tlie child ami the hysterical sobs of the grandmother. In about two minutes the child's face was covered with layers of sweet oil, white of egg. sanitary cotton and flour, and the grandmother was speed ing round the corner on the way to the family doctor's. The doctor came and removed the layers of emollients. Then he laughed heartlessly and asked tlie women why they had called him. "There's noth ing the matter with the child's face," he said. "It must be her arms and shoulders," said the mother. "Tell mother where you are hurt, darling." "I ain't hurt," said the child, "but grandma screamed so she scared me." —Chicago Record. Tlie Career of William Penn. William Penn, the founder of tlie state of Peiinslyvania, was tlie son of Admiral William Penn, 1111 English na val officer who served during the rule of Oliver Cromwell and Charles 11. He was born at Tower Hill, London, Oct. 14, 1044. His childhood's home was Wanstead, in the county of Essex, where he was brought up amid the Strong Puritan surroundings that characterized England while Crom well was protector. After the death of Cromwell Admiral Penn entered the service of King Charles 11, was knighted and entered parliament When parliament was 111 session, the family resided at Tower Hill, In Lon don, and the life of tlie youthful Wil liam was not different from that of other boj's of good family and for tune. In MHO he entered Christchureh college at Oxford and there came In contact with many of the men who declined to conform with the usages of tlie Church of England. The elder Penn tried tlie effect of travel in ITnnce upon his son's Quaker tenden cies, and young Penn is said to have been not altogether unappreclatlve of the gnyetles of the court of Louis XIV, He traveled in Italy, and, to his fath er's delight, returned to England In 1604 quite a court gallant ill manner and garb. Until the outbreak of the plague lie was a student of law at Lincoln's Inn, London, but that ter rible epidemic again turned his mind to serious thoughts and made lilm an unswerving and devout Quaker. When Admiral Penn died, In 1070, William was put 111 possession of his father's estate, worth $7500 a year, and a claim of $75,000 against the gov ernment. Both before and after his father's death Penn was several times arrested and imprisoned for preaching and acting in accordance with the Quaker doctrines. Tlie persecution of the Quakers in England made him long to afford tliem a home free from persecution in the new world. Penn asked the king to grant him land ly ing west of the Delaware river and north of Maryland. This was ob tained in payment of the king's debt. The Duke of York, who afterward be came James 11, made a gift of what is now Delaware. Here Penn plnnted his colonies, which in religious free dom were largely the inspiration of the liberal spirit which characterizes the American constitution. Upon the death Penn in England, July 30, 1718, his son became heir to his prop erty.—Trenton (N. J.) American. Story of the Sun. AVlien I was a little girl I wondered where the sun went after it disap peared in the evening skies, and whether it might possibly forget to return in time again next morning to give lis light, but 1 soon learned that sunset and sunrise nro due to the earth turning round once every 24 hours, so that first one side, then tlie other, enjoys sunlight and day. When the side of the earth on which we live turns away from the sun the sky grows dark, and the stars which are always overhead, hut fade in the sun's bright light, begin to make their appearance. Birds seek their nests, flowers fold their petals, and little, children grow sleepy and tired anil close their eyes. Meanwhile, the children in Chiton and Japan, and in the far away Philippines, will soon be opening their eyes on the glories of a new day. They are all wide awake when we are fast asleep. It is the sun that gives us light and heat, makes the flowers grow, paint ing them witli pretty colors, and brings the roses to our cheeks. We arc just at tlie right distance front tile sun, for it is neither too near nor too far away from its. But have you any idea liow fur away the sun really is? It is millions of miles away, so that if a railroad track could be made front the earth to the sun, a train rushing along at the rate of a mile a minute would not reach the sun for 175 years. Supposing one of you had gone ill that train, you would have become old and wrinkled and gray before the train had traveled half tlie distance, Tlie great American astronomer named Professor A. Young once told us a story about a little hoy he knew who would play with a spirit lamp. He wanted to find out if tlie alcohol flame burned, and when the professor was not looking put liis lin ger in it anil howled with the pain. The professor did the best lie could for the little sufferer, and at the same time said to himself:—"Supposing the boy had burned liis finger by toucuing the surface of the sun how soon would lie have felt the pain?" His arm would have to be nearly 03,000,000 miles long, and lie would never know that he had burned bis linger, because the pain would take 110 less than 150 years in traveling from the tip of the child's finger to his brain. The size of tlie sun is so great that more than 1,000,000 globes as largo as the earth could lie made out of it, and were it weighed in the scales it would take 332,000 globes as heavy as ' the earth to make the scales even. If a tunnel were made through the cen ter of the sun and a railroad track laid down, a train going at the rate of a mile a minute would take 000 days in going from one side of the sun to the other, Tlie central part of the sun is made of copper, iron, tin, lead and many other things we find on earth in the solid state, but the heat of the sun melts tliem and makes them soft like molasses candy. Outside the ceuttal part of the sun is a shell of bright clouds and that which takes tlie place of the air that surrounds the earth. In tills case, however, the air around the sun is intensely hot and mild ' up of tlie gases of iron, copper, and so on; the clouds that form are masses of glowing Iron, and the rains that fall are drops of burning metal. The sun is also surrounded with an ocean of scarlet fire, in which form great whirlpools thousands of miles In size. Out from this ocean dart flames reaching to a distance of hundreds of miles and thousands of miles beyond the surface of the sun. The flames are of a rosy color, and when the sun's light Is hidden by tlie moon coming ex actly between the sun and the earth we can see them outlined against the dazzling white of the Inner corona. This is a crown of glory surrounding tlie snn, and fading away into the silvery streamers of the outer corona, which reaches to a distance of millions of miles from the sun.—Miss Mary Proctor, In New York Herald. fact. About Cowbell., "One of the comparatively few things that the band of Improvement lias not touched is the cowbell, which is made uow just as it was a hundred or more years ago, anil lias now Just the same peculiar clanking sound as ever," said . n hell manufacturer to a Washington Star writer recently. "Cowbells are made some of copper anil some of a composition metal; but most of them are made of iron and finished with a coating of bronze. The cowbell is not* cast; hilt it is cut from a sheet of met- ' al, which Is folded into shape and riveted. The metal cap at the top, through which the strap is passed, is ißeted into the bell. Cowbells are made of ten sizes, whose sounds range through an octave. Sometimes music al entertainers who play upon bells of one sort and another come to us and by selection among bells of vari ous sizes find eight bells that are ac curate in scale. "There are only four factories in the United States in which cowbells are made, and In each case tlie cowbell is only an Item of production among other tilings. Cowbells are sold all over the country, just the same as ever, but much the greater number is sold in the south, the southwest and the west, where farms are larger, less likely to be under fence and cattle are more apt to stray. American cowbells are exported lnrgely to the vari ous countries of South America and also to Australia." i
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers