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One the paradoxes of life hisur- ,
fcnee is that the richest men, who need j
It least, carry the largest amount of it
More young men are studying tlieol- j
ogy and medicine in Illinois than in j
any other State. although New York i
leads in the number ol' law students. !
Truxtun Beale, in the Forum, says
that the "absurd and vulgar
turo by millionaires impoverishes so
ciety and has no economical justifica
tion."
On 1 lie capture of a smooth footpad
in Chicago the other day it developed
thai Tic controlled a number of circuits
and bad numbers of men robbing for
him on commission. This trust busi
ness is appalling!
During the year that ended on June
30, 1000, 448.572 immigrants arrived in
the United States, a gain of forty
three per cent, over the preceding year.
European labor very quickly finds out
when times are good in America.
The Philadelphia Inquirer observes;
"The truth is that a vast majority of
the people of the United States believe
in and advocate arbitration for the set
tlement of all disputes, but that thus
far no one lias hit upon a practicable
method of bringing it about."
Consul Huglies writes from Coburg,
Germany, that in opposition to the de
termined vegetarians who condemn all
animal food, there is n growing num
ber of physiologists who insist that
abstention from meat, if continued for
ages and generations, is responsible for
the feebleness and low intellect of cer
tain races.
A French engineer named Verller
proposes to bore a tunnel under the
Mediterranean. According to his sur
veys, the length of the tunnel from
Vaqueros Bay, in Spain, to Tangiers,
in Morocco, would be only twenty-five
miles, as the depth of the sea in that
vicinity is only 1300 Pet. His esti
mate of its cost is $23,729,000.
M. Arsene Alexandre, a Parisian crit
ic, Jnds the American locomotive sug
gestive of the American man because
it is "a combination of elegance, prac
ticability, convenience and power." It
also resembles liiin in its capacity for
getting there, a fact which is causing
great concern at present to British
railway managers.
Columbia University lias followed
the example of Yale and offered free
tuition to five Filipinos. It is to be
hoped that enough colleges may do
this to give a fair opportunity for a
considerable proportion of the bright
est of the Filipino youth to bo Ameri
canized. and at the same time to testi
fy to the people of the islands our
good will, remarks the New York
Tribune.
Judge Itobinson, of Raleigh, N. C.,
apparently thinks that, clergymen have
hi their own hands the power to keep
order during divine service. There
have been some hints of unseemly do
ings in one of the churches there, and
his honor in charging the grand jury
said: "Be careful how you indict men
for disturbing religious worship. If
the preacher is the sort of fellow he
ought to be people will be paying too
close attention to Idm to disturb any
body."
The mortuary statistics for the Dis
trict of Columbia during the past 12
months show a startling rrcord of tu
berculosis of the lungs. The mortality
from all causes was 5.953. and of these
713 were victims of consumption—an
average mortality from this one disease
of 13-6Q for each week in the year
Kansas City. Kan., is out for a Unit
ed States mint.
FROM WHEN r WAS A CHILD.
I TVhpn I was a child the moon to me
Through the nursery curtains seemed to b®
A thing of marvel and wio-heiv.
The slim white crescent iluathigh
In the lucid green of the western skv
Was a fairy boat, and the ev nlng" star,
A light ou the land where the fairies are.
—A. !•:. F., Iu Atlantic.
A -A.
{GOOD FOR EflL. \
4 ►
| VTVVVVVVVVVTVV
| Mrs. Jarvis was a business woman,
j Mr. Jarvis had been a mere simper
ing, good humored nonentity in his
day, giving up all his affairs to his
wife's management and when he shuf
fled off this mortal coil was not great
ly missed. And Mrs. Jarvis consoled
herself by opening a suit manu
| factory.
j Here she sat upon this glorious Au
-1 gust afternoon in her own little pri-
J vate office, a pen behind her ear and
, a pencil between her lips, adding up
| a long column of figures—a tall,
j portly, finelooking dame, in rich black
| silk, with costly jewels sparkling upon
j her fingers and that comfortable look
j upon the face which accumulating
1 wealth is sure to bestow.
! "Sixteen and six are twenty-two,"
j said Mrs. Jarvis, resting her pencil
;at the foot of the line. "Two—and
j two to carry—eh? Who is there?"
! An apologetic little knock had come
; to the office door —it was Mr. Mad
| stone, Mrs. Jarvis' cashier and fore
man in general.
I "It's me, ma'am, said Mr. Madstone,
. whose close-shorn hair stuck up all
over his head, like the bristles of a
blacking brush. "That Mrs. Pennant
is here with her bundles."
Mrs Jarvis glanced first at her
ledger and then at the calendar that
hung on the wall over the desk.
"Six hours behind time," said she,
austerely. "The order went out at
9 o'clock this morning, minus the 12
suits she was finishing. Tell her to
j leave her work and come here for no
more. Of course, 1 shall not pay her,
I and she may think herself fortunate
that she is not compelled to pay the
usual fine."
1 "I wish you'd sec her yourself!"
1 blurted out Madstone, scratching his
I bristly head. "She looks pale and
j sick, and —"
"Pshaw!" interrupted Mrs. Jarvis,
I rising from her seat, with a rustling
of black silk skirts. "You haven't tho
| resolution of a chipmunk. Madstone,
( and never had! You'd let all those
j girls and women run over you, if it
I wasn't for rae."
I And she swept through the narrow
j door of the office out into the long
1 bare workroom, where tho click of 20
| sewing machines buzzed on the sultry
j air and several haggard women waited
at the counter.
"Oh," said she, stopping short be
fore the nearest one, "Mrs. Pennant,
you are six hours behind. The order
; has gone."
| "I am very Eorry, ma'am," hesitated
j the pale woman, "but my daughter
, was ill —my little Jessie—and I had
| no one to care for her but myself. 1
| sat up all night to finish the suits—
| I did, indeed—and—"
1 "All these details make no differ
! ence to me," Interrupted Mrs. Jarvis,
i with a sharp, crispy voice. "Business
! is business, and the very soul of it is
I punctuality. You may leave your
I suits, but don't expect any more work
I from here."
The poor woman's wan face worked.
! "Mrs. Jarvis," faltered she, "you are
a woman, and a mother, like myself.
If your child was ill—"
j "We won't descend to comparisons,
! if you please," said Mrs. Jarvis, icily.
; "Good-day. I am much occupied at
present."
I "You surely don't mean, Mrs. Jarvis,
| that you are not going to pay me for
: what I have done?" cried the woman,
j "Why should I?" said Mrs. Jarvis.
I "Your work has arrived too late to go
|in its regular order. Y'ou have vio
lated the rules and regulations of this
, establishment, and as a necessary
consequence, have forfeited your
1 pay. Hopkins," to the clerk, "take
' these suits into the packing-room."
| Mrs. Pennant's lip quivered, her
eyes, which had been fu'.l of entreaty,
now flashed indignantly.
| "Mrs. Jarvis," said she, "I know
! very well that 1 am at your mercy,
: but, all the same, this sort of thing
looks to me like swindling."
! "I cannot help it —rules are rules,"
| said the business woman, cold as
| adamant.
! "My child lies ill at homo. I had
j counted on this hard-earned money to
I buy the medicine and necessaries that
I she must have. Mrs. Jarvis, for
heaven's sake, do not withhold it
from me!"
"General rules will bear hard upon
1 individual cases," said Mrs. Jarvis,
glancing furtively at her watch. "I
cannot depart from them, however."
Mrs. Pennant lifted her thin hand 3
in an unconsciously tragic attitude.
"Woman!" she uttered, "may tho
curse of Heaven light upon you for
your cruelty to the widow and father
less! May He give back into your own
bosom, heaped up and running over,
the measure you hold so pitilessly
to me."
And turning away, she left the suit
manufactury. amid the breathless si
lence of the assembled working
women. Mrs. Jarvis smiled and
shrugged her shoulders.
i "All this is mere rant," said she.
"Madstone, bring that last inventory
' into my office."
But the next day, when on roach
' ing tho building, as usual, the 20
sewing machine girls found that it
had been burned to the ground during
the night, they instinctively thought
of the widow's curse.
It was the janitor's fault. He had
gone into the stockroom with a
lighted candle, and, started by the
springing of a cat, had let it fall too
near a basket of waste paper, and an
instantaneous conflagration had been
the result. And, what was worse, the
insurance had run out 011 the evening
of the previous day, and Mrs. Jarvis
was a ruined woman!
Yet she was not easily discouraged.
She tried agair, and rallied her forces
with true muscular energy, but it was
all m vain. There is a tide of fortune
in the affairs of everyone—and hers
was on the ebb.
Ten years afterward a poor, shabby
old woman, bent and bowed and
dressed in a rusty black, was shown
into the silk-hung reception-room of
the wife of one of our New York's
wealthiest merchant princes. Mrs.
Tressilian came in, wondering. She
was a fair, pretty young creature of
about 20. Mr. Tressilian's second
wife and idolized darling.
"You sent in no name," said she, as
she beckoned the old woman to a seat
near the ruby-shining grate. "And I
Ido not think 1 know your face. What
j is your business with me?"
1 "I am very poor, madam," pleaded
! the old woman. "I sent in no name
because I am an utter stranger to
you. My only claim is my wretched
ness and poverty. 1 have heard that
you are good and generous—that of
your allowance you give to those who
j are less favored by Providence."
! Mrs. Tressilian, deeply touched by
| the haggard pallor of the bent old
I woman and the tremulous faintuess of
! her tones, had taken out her purse and
was unclasping it, when a light touch
fell on her arm.
"Stop a moment, my daughter," said
a soft, low voice, and, turning, Mrs.
Treesilian saw at her side a lady with
hair white and lustrous as silver and
a superb diamond cross glistening in
the lace at her breast, while her black
I velvet dress trailed noiselessly over
: the crimson pile of the Axmlnster car
; pet. "I believe I know this person. If
I am not milstaken it is Mrs. Jarvis.'
"My name is Jarvis," said the old
woman, looking rather surprised.
"Yes," said the other, quietly. "I see
you have forgotten me. I am the Mrs.
Pennant who, years ago, was turned
from your employment because, tied
! down to a sick child, she could not be
quite punctual to your orders. This,"
laying her hand on Mrs. Tressilian's
shoulder, "is the very child—my little
I Jessie—who lay so ill at that time.
! God has prospered us since then. But
I you—"
"I am a beggar!" burst out poor
Mrs. Jarvis, shrinking back from the
other's stern, questioning eye. "Heav
en help me! 1 have nowhere to lay
my head!"
"And you come here to beg of 11s,
forgetful of how pitiless you once were
| to me!" uttered Mrs. Pennant, sternly.
| "Oh, forgive me! Be merciful and
forgive mo!" faltered Mrs. Jarvis.
kneeling at the other's feet.
I "I vowed that day, within myself,
) that I would be avenged," said Mrs
Pennant slowly.
! "Mamma," pleaded the young wife,
I "look at her! Sick, old and poor. God
has taken the bolt of vengeance into
i His own hand. All that remains to us
j is to he mericful."
I "My love, you are right," said Mrs.
I Pennant. "Rise, my poor woman. You
| shall be fc:l, sheltered and aided with
money. For the present go to the
j housekeeper's room."
I And Mrs. Jarvis crept away, with a
! choking sob in her throat.
! The great circle cf fate had accom
plished its revolution, and the widow
was indeed avenged—avenged all the
j more completely in that she had
! learned the lesson of forgiveness.—
i New York News.
Race notweeii Men unci MHclilnea.
The difference in capacity between
| a skilled workman and a machine is
in some cases simply enormous. A
j good matchmaker, without the aid
1 of machinery, is al>le to make about
j 8000 matches in a day of eight work
ing hours. In the same time a ma
chine will make about 17,000,000
matches, or about 200,000 boxes. Dur
ing the time which is required by
one man to make three matches the
machine is able to make 0375, or
about 100 boxes.
' During a working day of 10 hours
' even the most expert caudle maker
could not draw more than 1000 can
! dies of inferior quality, while modern
I machines can make al#out 7000 dur
-1 ing the same time.
| The average capacity of a brick
j machine is about 3000 a day, equal
I to the capacity of 10 men during the
same length of time.
1 Without the assistance of modern
means of transportation a trip around
the earth would take about 480
days, while with the assistance of
j steam railroads and steamboats it
can he made in 70 days. Thus mod
ern means of t r ansportation have
j practically reduced the size of the
earth to travelers to about one-twelfth
I its former size.
When the gallant Welsh captain,
) David Gam, was sent forwarl by
1 Henry V to reconnoitre the French
! army before the battle of Agincourt,
| he found that the enemy outnumbered
| the English by about five to one.
His report to the king is historic;
"There are enough to be killed, en
ough to be taken prisoners, and en
ough to run away." This quaint fore
cast of the result of the battle at once
j spread through the camp, and doubt
! less every yeoman-archer or tne
valiant company felt an inch taller.
We know that it was almost literally
| justified by the event. Poor Gam's
; dry humor was equalled by his cour
j age. He was killed while in the act
| of saving the lifo of his prince.—
j Argonaut.
1
LESS MOURNING WORN.
A MARKED CHANCE IN THE CUS
TOM HERE Iff RECENT YEARS.
Tlio T.avitli Use or frcjio Aliaixlonrd —
A!ore Freedom of Clioire in tlie Widow's
tire Mouruinu; (ittrb of the Men—
Alade About Servants*
There have been many chances in
the styles of mourning in the last
15 years. In America, mourning is
certainly growing lighter. It is less
worn, and les3 of it is worn. America
never did accept the ironclad French
rules of mourning observances. In
France, everything from the length
of the veil to the number of buttons
on the gloves is fixed. The exact
length of time for each observance is
laid down and a veil is shortened, a
handkerchief border narrowed, or the
engraving cn a visiting card changed
by schedule. Individuality doesn't
cut any figure, and a departure from
precedent is a scandal.
The English things are different.
The English go into black upon the
slightest provocation, but they wear
it a very short time and exercise a
certain degree of individual taste in
Much matters. They may mourn
their dead friends and relatives as
sincerely as the French do, but they
wear their rule with a difference. Per
has the inconsiderate fashion in which
members of the English royal family
have always insisted upon dying
during the season has hardened
English society to popping into black
and out of it with apparent im
perturbability.
American customs in mourning have
followed the English lead, and the in
dividual here has always, to a great
degree, consulted his own inclination
in the matter of mourning clothes and
elfquette. Still some general rules
have obtained, and it i 3 undoubtedly
true that those general rules
have been steadily modified and that
they tend toward greater freedom of
action and less ostentation in mourn
ing attire.
The lavish use of crepe which was
the great feature of mourning iu
earlier days has been completely put
aside. Crepe, in small quantities, is
still used for trimming gowns for
first mourning: and the famous dress
makers, whose word is law iu matters
of taste, contended that a widow's
first mourning should always have
a touch of crepe, but in mourning for
any relative save a husband crepe
is not essential, and even a widow
rarely wears a crepe veil today.
The old fashioned crepe veil,
against which physicians for so long
raved in vain, has been put aside in
favor of the light weight veil of nun's
veiling, and even that veil is never
worn over the face, as was formerly
the custom. The widow's ruche of
white in the bonnet is also discardel,
which is rather a pity, from an
aesthetic vewpoint. Many materials,
never until recently considered suit
able for mourning, are now admitted,
and lustreless black silk is worn in
first mourning, though nun's veiling,
cashmere, Henrietta cloth and such
materials are more popular. Uncut
velvet, too, has come to the front,
superseding crcpe in many instances
as a tlemming for even the deepest
mourning.
Occasionally whole gowns of crepe
are still seen, and New York's most
fashionable dressmakers included two
gowns fashioned entirely of crepe at
sl2 a yard. These gowns were in
sisted upon by the customer and the
dressmaker stoutly protested against
thom, declaring that, though expen
sive, they were not the mode. Another
wealthy mourner ordered last winter
from one of the leading fur houses
of the city a large cloak of heavy
crepe, reaching to the floor and lined
throughout with dark fur. The furrier
tore his hair and invoked the gods
in protest, but such a cloak the custo
mer would have and such a cloak was
made for her, the price was SSOO.
Such mourning fads are the excep
tion, and the desire of the average
woman who is obliged to wear mourn
ing is to have it as simple and incon
spicuous a3 is consistent with good
material and cut. If the wearing of
mourning is desirable at all a woman
should at least be altruist enough,
even in her grief, to select becoming
black. A good deal of criticism has
been expended upon the woman who
shows an interest in the selection of
her mourning outfit, but self-respect
and a certain consideration for the
living ought to have a place even in
a great sorrow. It is a question, too,
whether the lightening of mourning
and the dispensing with the show of
grief which moralists have been at
tributing to the increasing callous
ness of our social life isn't, after all,
a symptom of altruism as promising
as college sentements and domestic
science clubs. A rational idea seems
to be developing that discourages the
forcing of private grief upon public
notice, and demands the subordina
tion of selfish impulses toward open
mourning to the cheerfulness and
happiness of the living.
The wearing of mourning black by
children was never so prevalent in
America as in Europe, and has been
practiced less an less, until now one
rarely sees a child In black. The
bonnet and veil worn by young women
in mourning for parents are also ob
solete. A widow today, if she wishes
to follow conventioqal rules in her
mourning, will wear dead black for
a year. After that she will lighten
her black with white or gray for a
year, and at the end of that time she
can, with perfect propriety, go into
colors.
Lavender and violet as halt mourn
ing are not in use. possibly because
of their popularity outside of mourn
ing, and there is much less of the
gradual shading from black Into
colors than formerly. Now one wears
black with possibly the touch of
white or gray until the period of
mourning i 3 ended. Then one plunges
into colors with a rush. The widow
of olden time who did not wear heavy
black tor four yeai-3, and then slid
discreetly and almost imperceptibly
into colors, was guilty of an inex
cusable offence against, good tie's
and decorum.
Mourning for parents or children
conventionally lasts a year, though
the period is now in many instances
shortened to six months, and for
more distant relations six months is
considered sufficient to show one's re
spect and affection for the deceased.
A woman in mourning can today ap
pear with perfect propriety in public
places where, 10 years ago, her pres
ence would have been a sin against
decorum, and she can entertain in
formally as frequently as she chooses.
As for men, mourning apparel for
them grows loss and less customary
and even a widower seldom affects
funeral black. There has been a grow
ing tendency among men to assume
the black band on the coat sleeve, as
a badge of mourning, but this Eng
lish custom, though not as some
American writers have asserted, con
fined to the servants in England, has
little to recommend it.
American servants are seldom put
into mourning for a death in their
master's family, though the custom
is common across the water. When
the practice is adopted it is usually,
from a strictly conventional point of
view, misused and Americans go
ing in for pretentious mourning
would do well to remember that only
those servants rightfully entitled to
wear cockades have a conventional
right to wear a crape band on the
upper part of the left sleeve, and that
according to the inflexible law 3 of
livery, in comparison with which the
laws of the Modes and the Persians
were as wax, only members of the
army, navy and diplomatic corps have
a right to put cocades upon their
servants.
Black edged visiting cards and note
paper are dropped into disuse along
with crape aiAl closed window blinds
and seclusion from all society, and the
public attitude toward grief, while
less historic than it was 50 years ago,
is unquestionably more sane. —New
York Sun.
RECLAIMING ARID LANDS.
I.ikrlv to the Next Grout Internal lin
lirovetneot of the United State*.
A discussion respecting the re
claiming of arid lands of the United
States was taken up by the Commer
cial club at its banquet Saturday
night, says the Chicago Record. Prob
ably 110 greater physical and eco
nomic problem is before the people
of the United States at this time,
and there probably is no other prob
lem which will bring about such far
reaching and beneficial results when
solved. A fair estimate that has been
made of the land that may be made
available for cultivation by impound
ing waters for irrigation purposes
places its area at 10.000,000 acres. It
is now practically worthless. With
irrigation it is claimed this land would
be worth from 5'00,000,000 to per
haps ten times that amount, and if
not sold it could be rented for from
$1 to $5 a year per acre. The necessity
for dealing promptly with the prob
lem is accentuated by the fact that
all over the arid region irrigating
companies are now at work obtaining
control of vast tracts of land and of
the impounding basins by means of
which they may be supplied with
water privileges and land are being
acquired by these companies that will
be used as the basis for making ex
torttonate demands on the govern
ment, should some plan for general
improvement bo decided on. Some
idea of the importance of the matter
may be gathered from the fact that
the Republican national platform
strongly pronounces in favor of a
system of arid land reclamation that
will leave the distribution of water on
such lands in the hands and under
the control of the people of the states
and territories where the lands are
situated.
One of the important features of the
reclamation of arid lands by means
of impounding reservoirs is the fact
that it would be immensely helped to
Uie project of improving the great
rivers of the west into commercial
waterways. A system has been de
vised by a number of engineers well
posted in the subject which shows
that impounding reservoirs built
along the Mississippi river would save
many acres of land from alternating
floods anil droughts and would make
possible a channel 20 feet in depth
from Lake Michigan, if desired, to the
Gulf of Mexico. Undoubtedly the next
general internal Improvement of the
United States will be a plan' for the
reclamation of arid lands, which will
work harmoniously with the improve
ment of the groat rivers.
•• Munic Until Cliarma."
The unmusical ear came into pain
ful prominence at a recent gay gath
ering. The program included a
choice assortment of elocutionary ef
forts and musical accomplishments,
that were supposed to be of the high
est order. Among the numbers was
a duet between the professor and one
of his pupils. Each had the exclus
ive use of a piano, and the way they
thundered and crashed would have
made Paderewski. could he have
heard them, rush to the nearest bar
ber shop and shave off bis person
ality. When the concert was over,
and the audience was filing out, a de
mure young lady, referring to this par
ticular number, remarked to her es
cort : "Oh, dear, I can't see why
people can't do their tuning up at
home !" —Detroit Free Press.
JUST AS HE L.EFT THEM.
Bis 1 ova arc lying on tlic floor,
.List as ho lot 1 them there ;
The painted thii. s for keeping store.
The little brot.oii elicit :
The jumping pig, tin' whistling ball,
The duck, the gun. the boat.
The funny looking Chln-.ie doll,
And bucking billy goat.
They lie nbnut. poor, battered things.
The rabbit anil the fox.
The euekoo with the broken wings.
The Jack, sprung from his box.
Here lie his nunc, his tangled string.
His bow and silver cup--
Because I'm tired of following
Around to pick them up.
—Chicago Tiiues-llerald
HUMOROUS.
O'Reilly —Do yez believe in Fate?
O'Hoolihan —Do Oi believe in fate!
Sure, how ilse could Oi walk?
Flatte—ls your boardinghouse up
to date? Rooms—You bet. A fel
low can't get behind a single week.
Wig—Before they married she had
him clean out of his mind. Wag—■
And now he has her clean out of his
mind.
Customer —Give me one of tlioso /
nickel pencils. Clerk —Here it is,
sir. Hold on! this nickel is iead.
Customer—So is the pencil. Ta! ta!
Siliicus—l hate to hear a woman
continually talking about herself.
Cynicus—Now, I rather like it.
When she's talking about herself she
can't talk about other people.
Hoax—Why is the merchant who
doesn't advertise like a man in a
rowboat? Joax—Because he goes
backward, I suppose. Hoax —No; be
cause he has to got along without
sales.
"If that poet comes in tell him I've
gone to Kalamazoo," said the editor.
"What's up?" asked the assistant
editor. "Oh! it's the compositor again,"
said the editor, wearily; "he made the
poet say that a miss is as good as a
male."
Aslcer —What is your understanding
of the Golden Rule? Docs it mean;
"Do unto others as you would 'like'
to he done by?" Bizness—No; my
interpretation is: "Do unto other as
you would 'be likely' to be done by."
"What is your age?" aslccd the law
yer. "Must 1 answer that?" inquired
the feminine witness. "You must,"
said the judge. "Truthfully?" "Yes,
truthfully." "O, well if I must I must,"
sho said resignedly. "My ago is—a
secret."
"I can't have lost all my good looks,"'
said Miss Northside to her best
friend. Miss Shadyside, "for I can
still obtain a seat in a crowded street
car." "Oh, well," replied Miss Shady
side, "you know the men will give
seats to old age as well as to youth
ful beauty."
1
CHILDREN IN HOLLAND.
Little Laiti mill Lnssiei in n Scileveulli
tteti Kindergarten.
Wandering through the crooked
streets of the little fishing village of
Scheveningen, from which the famous
Dutch watering place takes its name,
I hear many shouts of laughter issu
ing from a garden inclosed by high,
walls. The gate was open and I
peeped in. My curiosity was rewarded
by one of the sweetest sights I have
ever witnessed. About 20 little Dutch
maids and lads, there ages varying
from three to six years, were enjoy
ing a game of ordinary American tag,
while a little attendant of about 12
years stood by, busily knitting while
she watched them. A hell sounded.
They all fell in lino behind the little
knitter and walked demurely, two by
two, in a serpentine line around the
garden and disappeared in a long hall,
at the door of which each child took
off its little wooden shoes and hold
them in one hand behind its hack,
says a writer in the Washington Star.
In the meantime the principal came
out and invited me by signs to enter.
In the hall I noticed the little sabots
laid orderly, side by side. There were
three halls in this kindergarten. In
each were 50 children, between the
ages of three and six years—the girls
in gowns to their ankles, held out in
balloon fashion with haircloth petti
coats, little white shawls pinned over
the shoulders and caps covering their
straight yellow locks.
At this free kindergarten the chil
dren of the fisher folk, many of them
fatherless, derive all care and atten
tion. They are taught by the same
methods used in Germany. All
seemed bright and happy. In one
room they were singing quaint little
nursery rhymes about boats. So one
little fellow made me understand by
walking across the floor, rolling like
a sailor, and then going through tho
motions of rowing a boat and pulling
in nets. lie, with great glee, made me
understand that ite would be a fisher
man when lie was "so big," stretching
up his arms smoking an imaginary ' *
pipe. This amused the child- n r
much and made them shout and laugh
so loud that the teacher was obliged
to send them to their scats aud end
our fun.
Itelitrioiia Manilla m sin Itilaaln.
There are two lype3 of tramps In
Russia, and they may be classified as
tho authorized and tit" unauthorized.
The first are the so-called religious
mendicants, who aro protected by the
church and tolerated 'by the police;
the second are the common vaga
bonds. Their national name among
themselves is "Goriouns"—mourners
or victims of grief. If you ask them
why they do not work—and tho great
majority are perfectly able to do so—
they reply in the l'oriornost voice mor
tal over heard, "Master, I am a Gori
oun. a victim' of sorrow." They seem
to have accepted the philosophy that
a certain number of human beings aro
foreordained to . life of misery and
Badness, and they pose as members
of tills clasß. A I