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Entered at tho Postofflco at Freeland. Pa.,
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Make all money orders, checks, etc. payable
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It is estimated that the farms of Kan
sas will this year yield over SIOO for
every man, woman, and child in that
state.
The decision in nearly half the cases j
appealed to the supreme court of Colo- j
rado are reversed—the majority of
them on technicalities. This is large- j
ly due to the fact that the judges of
the county courts are not necessarily
lawyers.
The scarcity of coal in New Zealand
has had the effect of raising the price,
and the mines at present working are
unable to cope with the demand. The ;
premier proposes to take steps to ter- I
minate the leases of coal-bearing
lands which are not worked.
The automobile is now recommend
ed to the public for its "absolute
cleanliness." There is no doubt that
the automobile lias many advantages
over the horse vehicle, but the one
that will dually recommend it to the
public will be a reduction in price.
America is rapidly displacing Great
Britain ns the coal exporting country
of the world. American miners are
actually "carrying coals to Newcastle"
by selling cargoes of coal in the Unl- j
ted Kingdom itself. Other European
countries, too, that have heretofore
drawn coal supplies from the United
Kingdom are now drawing largely on
the United States.
The leading American student of
human flight, Professor Langley of the
Smithsonian institution, has made a
new sort of flying contrivance, accord
ing to the Washington Post. He has
put on the top of ills machine a pro
peller such as carries the flying top
into the air. With this he will rise I
and then turn on the rear screw by
which he will travel.
According to the census office re
turns the population of Manhattan
m}(l Bronx b'.rouerhs of New York j
City foots up 2,00b,u0u. Of this num- j
ber 200,507 live in the district east
of the Bronx river, which was an
nexed in 189 S. The c.nsus return of
JS'ew York for 1800 was 1.515.2,01. show-
iiig an increase in 10 years of over 25
per cent. Few cities in the land have
expanded so enormously or promise
such growth in the future.
Donald L. Cameron, the Rutherford
(N. J.) druggist who died recently,
set an example in providing that there
should he no needless expense in
curred at his burial. His will,
which has been admitted to pro
bate, and which disposed of an
estate of $25,000, provided that
the cost of his funeral should not
exceed SSO. "Rather leave to the liv
ing" he wrote, "that which unneces
sarily goes to the dead." The custom of
having an imposing funeral with vast
number or relatives, friends, and
even mere acquaintances, driving in
coaches behind the hearse to a dis
tant cemetery, is to he deprecated.
It prevails among people most of
whom are In straitened circumstances,
and upon whom the expense bears
very heavy. Physicians say that fre
quently "one funeral makes many" In
consequence of these visits of large
numbers to cemeteries in Inclement
weather. The custom originates in a
commendable sentiment, but, as Ham
let remarks, "It is a custom more
honored In the breach than the ob
servance."
Tn 1807 the people of Nebraska paid
01T $19,000,000 of mortgages: in 1898,
$49,000,000; in 1899. $78,000,000—5146,-
000,000 in three year*.
Sisal is obtained from the leaves of a
plant belonging to the cactus family,
which thrives chiefly along the gulf
coast of Yucatan.
ULTIMA VERITAS.
In the bitter waves of woe.
Beaten and tossed about
By the sullen winds that blow
From the desolate shores of doubt-
When the anchors that faith had cast
Are dragging in the gale,
I am quietly holding fast
To the things that cannot fail;
I know that right Is right;
That it is not good to lie;
That love is better than spite.
And a neighbor than a spy,
I know that passion needs
The leash of a sober mind;
I know that generous deeds
Borne sure reward will And;
} %
\ " The Qld_/spple TSree" \
* %
VtVtVkMVI •
I was disappointed in my friend. We
had arranged to spend the day on the
river. I had not met him for years,
not sinre our Balliol days, until I saw
him again after seven years at the
varsity sports in tho early spring. Ho
was the same as ever—stanch and
genuine and generous. It was he who
had suggested and settled the details
of our trip on the river. It was to be
on June 15, and we were to have had
a long, healthy, exhilarating day, with
plenty of hard exercise and a long
chat about old times.
The day came and I was in a river
rig at the boathouse agreed upon half
an hour earlier than we had mutually
fixed. But Fry did not come. I know
of nothing more irritating than to
have to hang about for another fellow
to turn up when one is alone like that
At last I got a note by his servant.
His excuse for not coming seemed to
me a flimsy one. His wife's father had
fixed a sudden meeting of family trus
tees, and afterward he had to seo his
sister on business of consequence re
lating to a trust However, whether
it was an excuse or whether it was a
reason, he was not coming with me for
our projected river trip—that wa3
clear. It was annoying, but I trust I
am too philosophic to feel * anything
deeply that cannot he helped. I coun
termanded the pair-skiff and had out
a single canoe.
In five minutes I was "on the bosom
of old Father Thames." Tho hack
neyed words, as I thought of them,
were in themselves a comfort, and as
I paddled on I thought how a gay
heart wants no friend. Solitude has
charms deeper than society can afford.
Out of my memory teemed troops of
friends, and they were with me as I
willed; they came at my call and van
ished as I wished when thought of an
other suggested.
I was veritably festive In my loneli
ness. Everything was new to me, and
■
'
yet familiar; the lazy cattle, knee
deep in the water, tho trim villas fes
tooned with roses and clematis, tho
laughing weirs, the fleets of graceful
swans, the barges, and the pleasure
boats, the pools where the water lilies
grew. How lovely it all was, and how
sweet, (since fate had willed it so) to
enjoy ituncliatjltbed jiQd solitary,
'3? tnTs be loneliness," i thought,
turnlhg my canoe into a backwater of
the main river, along which I had al
ready paddled with the stream for sev
eral miles (I had passed through two
locks), "I have been often lonelier
fljuong hosts of friends!" And I fear
there was some conceit In the delight
1 enjoyed; cast thifs upon my own re
sources I was proud of my buoyancy of
spirit, i found myself ever and ono'n
peopling the passing banks and
woods with creatures of my own im
lgination, making of tho whole land
scape a background for the creation ol
an as yet unwritten romance. I wova
fairy tales. I am a professed writer
of romances, and I determined that tho
beings born of my river dream should
awake and livo in words on the
shelves of libraries.
I was now in a lovely backwater
more beautiful than the Thames itself.
The bankside flowers were more
abundant and nearer to me—lndeed,
they hedged me about. The pale blue
eyes of innumerable forget-me-nots
smiled upon me, wild roses and bram
bles bloomed amid their thorns, tho
leaves of the osiers whispered every
where, the weeping willows hung their
arching boughs right across the nar
row creek, which it now pleased me
to explore.
Tho water was clearer, too. Paddling
slowly along between tho lawns, I
looked Into the depths of tho water,
with all its wealth and wonder of
plant growth, the waving forest of
submarine weed, where I could see
shoals of minnows. Now and then a
school of perch, startled by my paddle,
darted Into the shadow of the weed,
and a huge Jack, sulking in a deep
green pool, made me long for a rod
and line.
While thus engrossed, bonding my
head over the side of the canoe. In
which I continued to drift along slow
ly, I failed to notice how narrow tho
creek had become, until suddenly I
found myself close to a lady lying on
a lawn—so close that I was almost
touching her.
For a while I snt staring nt her In
Bewilderment. Then I stammered,
"Where am I?"
"You are In my father's garden,"
she said.
"And I—I—?"
"You are a tresspasser."
That tho rulers must obey:
That the elvers shall increase;
That Duty lights the way
for the beautiful feet of Peace—
In the darkest night of tho year,
When the stars have al! gone out.
That courage is better than fear,
That faith is truer than doubt;
And fierce though the fiends may fight.
And long though the angels hide,
I know that Truth and Right
Have the universe on their side;
And that somewhere beyond the stars,
Is a Love that is better than fate;
When the night unlocks her bars
I shall see Him, and I will wait,
—Washington Gladden.
But she smiled as she said it, a '
smile that showed two rows of pearl,
sparkling in the sunlight that dappled I
her face.
"And you?" I said. I know not what
I said, but soon I asked her name, and I
she told me it was Eve.
"And this is Paradise," I answered, j
looking through tho leaves of the old
apple tree at all the beauties of the
garden.
Then we talked. Of what? Of every
thing. Of solitude, of friendship, ol
books; I fear of Canada—and of love.
Then she hade me go, and I could
not. Nor would I if I could; and
when at length I obeyed her and was
about to go she bade me stay.
So I stayed, and soon had moored
my canoe and stood upon her lawn.
I cannot tell how I of all men—modes!
almost to bashfulness—could have j
done so, but I did.
Of the flowers that grew wild there
by the water's edge I made her a
crown, and this I put upon her tangl- j
ed golden hair.
Two roses that I had not seen he
fore bloomed on her face and she ran !
away, light-footed, and lithe of limb, j
over the lawn into her father's house.
But I could not leave; I could not!
I looked for her, hut she did not come.
Once I saw the curtains of a window
drawn aside and her face peering out
at me, but she would not come again, j
Well, I stayed, that was all! How j
I had the impudence to do so I cannot
tell —but I could not go.
She was a long while indoors. ]
heard her at the piano. I knew it was
her touch, though I had never heard
her before, hut I was confident It was j
she. Besides, now and then the piano i
stoppeu suddenly, and I saw by the
movement of the window curtains that
she was peeping to see whether I had
gone.
At last I grew ashamed of my in
trusion, and, stooping from under the
fruit-covered branches of the old ap- j
pie tree, I went to my cauoo, unfast- j
encd its moorings, and was about to ,
withdraw.
But as luck would have it. just as
I was about to get into tho canoe she j
came out to me across the lawn. Her
gesture to me was that I must go. I
said what I felt, regardless of all order
of all propriety. "Eve," I said, pas- !
sionately, "you do not know me, noi ;
who I am, nor I you, but I know this, !
that I love you. Yes, I love you, and ]
shall love you forever. Your heart is j
my Eden. Do not shut the gates ol
this, my earthly paradise. 1 must,
must see you again, and I will! Say
that I may."
She looked down and blushed.
"May 1?" I faltered.
She did not reply. But her silence
was g better answer than words.
''When Y"
"Tomorrow."
She looked so pretty when sho said
it that 1 was about to dare yet more.
I had the temerity to formulate the
idea that I would take her in my arms
and steal from her lips a kiss when J
beard a shout:
"Huilo, ol'l chap! Is that you?"
I looked up.
"What, Fry?" I cried. "Is it Fry?
It is, by all that's wonderful."
"I'm awfully sorry, my dear chap,
that I couldn't join you on the river
today. Abominably uncivil you must
have thought me. But I 'didn't know
you knew my sister."
He looked at her and he looked at
me. I think we were both blushing.
"But you do know each other, don't
you?" he said, for we both looked so
awkward that he seemed to thluk that
he had made some faux pas.
"Oh, yes," I said, "we know each
other," and I stole a look at Eve. The
glance she gave me was a grateful
one.
Three months afterward there was a
river wedding, and as we were rowed
away from church in a galley manned
by four strong oarsmen I handed her
out of the canopied boat to her father's
lawn the wedding bells rang out mer
rily, for Eve and I wore man and wife,
and I gave her a husband's kiss under
that old apple tree. —Chicago Tribune.
Tho Hall Trick.
The "ball trick" Is rather surprising.
Get a turner to make a large, wooden
ball, and have a hole bored through the
hall, not straight, but curved. Through
this hole pass a fine rope or thick cord
and tie a knot In each to prevent its
coming off. In showing the ball have
the cord out of it and then In sight of
every one pass the cord through the
hole in the ball. The ball will run eas
ily backward and forward on the rope.
Taking the hall at one end of the rope,
place your foot on the other and hold it
almost perpendicularly and allow the
ball to slide down; you can cause It to
stop instantly by simply drawing the
rope perfectly tight and upon again
slackening it the hall will again si'-te
down the rope. In this way the ball
can be made to walk a few inches and
then stop and then to go on again, by
straining or slackening the rope.
HERDERS OF THE WEST. |
How tho Kiotoun Cowboy Compares with j
tho Lonely Sheep.Herder.
Captain J. H. McCllntocU writes as
follows in Ainslee's Magazine: "In
tlie character of the men who care for
the herds and flocks can be found an
Interesting suliji ct for study. The cow- |
boy, if he be the genuine article, is a
man who daily does feats on the range
that would win applause at a wild west
show. In his chase after the fleet, un
branded yearling, he is compelled to
ride at headlong speed over country
that a fox hunter would consider sure
death. Danger confronts him in va
ried form, and no man can be an effi
cient cow-puncher who liasfl*t in him
the spirit of recklessness. The writer
once witnessed u stampede of wild
cattle at midnight A great herd was
being held in a canyon of the Mazat
zal mountains. The night was as dark
as it is possible for night to be. A coy
ote's burk started the nervous animals
to their feet, and they were off. The
two riding guards on watch howled
for help. Their sleeping comrades I
Were up in a twinkling. Each seized
a horse at the picket line and mounted
without saddle, stopping only to twist
a loop of his rinta about the pony's
nose. Barely a dozen seconds had
passed before the campflre was de
serted. The cowboys were plunging
in tlie dark after tho fleeing cattle,
through a wild, rocky,unknown dis
trict, tilled with mesqulte and cactus,
cut up by dangerous arroyos and can
yons. By noon of the succeeding day
the drive was resumed. A half-dozen
steers had been left behind, lamed or
dead, in the gulches, while a few of the
horses in the 'wrangler's bunch' in the
lead were skinned and limping. But
the cowboys, their clothing in rags
from the thorny midnight ride, merely
joked on their mutual appearance and
solaced their weariness with tobacco
and with endless song. As a rule, the
cowboy in an American. In the plat
eau region he may either hail from
California or from Texas. But they
all fraternize, making issue only over
the liking of the Californian for a
saddle with a 'single-barreled rig,'
which is a saddle with a single girth.
The Texan despises anything but a
double-cinched saddle, though usually
he does not tighten the second girth.
"The sheep herder has a distinctly
lower social place. As a rule, he is a
foreigner, the few Americans employed
being in positions of unusual tigist.
Most of the herders appear to be Mexi
cans of Frenchmen. It is said that
Basques are the best and most careful
shepherds. They come from Northern
Spain, many of thein especially lor
this employment Their wages are not
bad, being usually even higher than
the pay of cowboys or farmhands, but
the nervous American cannot stand
the life. The everlasting 'baa' drives
him mad. lie cannot endure the mon
otony nnd the necessary separation
from humanity, with only a dog for
company for months at a stretch. And
the diet, mainly tea and mutton, is
too simple for his luxurious palate. It
is a fact that sheep herding furnishes
a greater number of inmates for west
ern insane asylums than does any other
occupation. The shepherd, like tho
cowboy, is gradually assimilated to
hfs surroundings, and naturally ac
quires much of the nature of his charg
es. To his credit it must be said that
he is rarely unfaithful to the interests
of his flock and its owner. There is
nothing poetical about him, but he will
risk his life for the safety of a lamb,
and will doggedly search all night it'
there be a stray. He Is a much quieter
fellow than the cowboy, even in his
cups, when the wool has been clipped
and the hands are in town for a little
fling. He lias no wild yearning for j
idly shooting holes in the firmament, j
He is happiest on a sunny hillside, ly- I
ing at ease where he may overlook his
flock and hear the ceaseless voicing of i
Its lamentation."
Brooking 1118 Nowa.
A workman having been injured i
seriously in the course of his employ
ment, one of the mates was told to go j
nnd break the news to the Injured ,
man's wife.
"Break the news as gently as pos- j
sible, Tom," said the "gaffer."
"I will," said Tom, and he went to'
his unfortunate mate's house, where
he found the latter's wife at her
household duties.
"I see the war's goin' on as bad as
ever, Mrs. Tomson," observed Tom
casually.
"Yes, more's the pity," returned Mrs.
Tomson.
"Lots of pore fellers a-losln' of a
leg," said Tom.
"Aye, poor chaps," sighed Mrs.
Tomson.
"You feels for 'em, don't you'.'"
querried Tom.
"Of course I do," answered Mrs.
Tomson.
"Yon orter," said Tom, " 'cos your
ole man 'as jest 'nd both of 'is cut
off by the engine!"—Pearson's Weekly.
l!alv Cot imolf Adopted.
From an orphan asylum in St. Louis,
Mo., comes an Interesting story. A
millionaire of that city with his wife
visited the institution, and while in
the nursery stopped to admire a pretty
boy just waking from a nap. The
baby smiled at the millionaire's wife,
and stretching his chubby arms toward
her, suld: "Take bnby." She took
him in her arms, and the child
Inughcd gleefully, as he commanded:
"Pretty mother, kiss baby." The rich
man and his wife looked at each
other, and the same tliougnt flashed
into both uiiuds, as their home was
childless. When they left the build
ing the golden haired boy was taken
to the carriage, and the orphan asy
lum had a vacancy.
Yaung German
Pset , S Wide Fame...
Gcrhnrdt Hauptmann is among the
greatest of dramatic poet 3 of the time.
He has been made known and much
discussed In this country by the pro
duction of his plays, notably "Han
nele," "The Weavers" and "The Sunk
en Bell." He has been accepted by
some people as the successor of
Goethe, In Germany. But even if that
is too much, there can be no question
of his remarkable power. He has writ
ten some fifty plays and published a
little volume of sketches. The first
GERHAIIDT HAUPTIIANN.
piece which made him famous in Ger
many was "Before Sunrise," but the
works mentioned are the only ones
which have made him familiar to us
in this country. He has been accused
i f having founded himself on ibeen,
<ut that charge is quite easily dis
proved by his work, which has, espe
cially in "Hannele" and "The Sunken
Bell," a brillia'nt quality of poetic im
agination, mystic and symbolical.
Sometimes he goes too far beyond the
general intelligence to win universal
appreciation, but his poetry takes a
high flight and carries itself with great
dramatic power.
Hauptmann was born in a small
Silesian watering place, Obersalzbrunn,
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Prof. John Henry McCracken not
only is the youngest college president
in the world, but also is one of the
most learned scientists in the United
States. He is at the head of West
minster University, Fulton, Mo.,
where already he is winning laurels
MONKS LIVE WELL.
Inmates of Chinese Monasteries Aro
Trenteil ns Demigods.
Of monasteries and lamaseries In
Pekin the number is endless. The
lamas and bonzes who dwell therein
can be counted by the thousands. They
are mostly Thibetans and Mongolians,
supposed to be studying Buddhism un
der the direction of an authenticated
lineal descendant of Buddha himself.
< Indeed, in one particular monastery
I three lineal descendants are to be seen
for a consideration. They are re
garded as semigods and treated as
such. Of the three so favored, fed and
flattered one Is a youngster of some
12 years, a bright, lively Mongolian
on November 15, 1862. His father was
the proprietor of the chief hotel, and
had a family of four children, one
daughter and three sons. He first dis
played talent as a sculptor, and he
went to Breslau to study, but he did
not learn or develop, and so he left
the Kuntschule. He had completed
his first drama In the meantime, "Inge
borg," founded on the Swedish poet
Tegner's "Frithjofsaga." It was an
attempt to glorify Germanic mythol
ogy, but Hauptmann did not follow up
his intention to any completion. He
went to Jena in 3.882, and later started
from Hamburg on a tour to Spain and
the Mediterranean. He was taken ill
with fever, when he returned, and
was nursed back to health by Marie
Thienemann, whom he married in
1885. After another excursion through
Eur ope gradually he became one of the
principal figures in the literary set ol
Germany, and his powers began to de
velop until he won his first widespread
icknowledgment, which has been in
creasing steadily, until his name is
known now all over the world. He
has a still greater future, for he is not
yet at the full development of his pow
ers.
for progressive, yet cautious, adminis
tration of his collegiate charge.
Abont a Popular Foreigner.
The dooryard flower gardens are dot*
ted with poppies of all kinds, from tha
little single red fellows to ones that
look almost like the big white-headed
double chrysanthemums. Although
the poppy is quite a favorite in this
country, none of the family is native
to the soil. All of our poppies came
from the old world. In England, Scot
land and Italy the graceful scarlet
poppy blossoms in the wheatflelds and
grows wild In waste places. Amont
the ruins of ancient Rome this bril
liant flower blooms luxuriantly. It is
very hardy, and, though an annual,
scatters its seed so well that they
ccrae up from year to year in gardens
where they have once bec-n planted.
Fined for Unrnlne Rat.
Justice Dooley of Chicago has decid
ed that "the rat is an animal," and
has fined James Poullis for burning,
one.
boy, fully alive to his own importance,
high dignity and destiny, yet not
averse to the filling of his baggy little
pockets with the dollars of such "for
eign devils" as afford him the oppor
tunity of so doing. The lamas and
bonzes are a greasy, grimy, dirt-in
crußted lot. The denser the dirt tho
greater the reputation for sanctity and
close spiritual affinity with Buddha.
Their whole time seems to be passed
in eating, extracting dollars from
strangers and sleeping.—Pall Mall Ga-
I zette.
One-half the world may not know
how the other half lives —but it has
suspicions.