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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