FREELRID IRIBUBE.I KHTAHI.ISHKI) IRHH. PUBLISHED EVERY >1 ON DAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY, 1Y TUB TRIBUNE PRINTING COMPANY. Limited OFFICE; MAIN STREET ABOVE CENTRE. LONG DISTANCE TELEPHONE. SUBSCRIPTION RATES FREELAND.—rheTRiBiTNE is delivered by carriers to subscribers in Froeland at tho rato of 12V6 cents per month, payable every two months, or $1 60 a year, payable in advance The TRIBUNE may be ordered direct form thu carriers or from tile ofllco. Complaints of Irregular or tardv delivery service will re ceive prompt attention. BY MAIL —Tlie TRIBUNE is rent toout-of- j town subscribers for $1.60 a year, payable in J advance; pro rata terms for shorter periods, I The data when tho subscription expires is on j the address label of each paper. Prompt re- j newels must bo made at tho expiration, otiior- i wise tho subscription will bo discontinued. Entered at the Postoffico at Freeland. Pa., | as Second-Class Matter. Make all money orders, check*. etc. t pcy ibl* to the Tribune Trailing Company, Limited. American bridge-builders are span- j Eing the Atbara and moving on triumphantly to arch the Uganda. America does not care who makes the ballads in Africa if she can build the bridges. • Only one-quarter of Scotland's lnnd is under cultivation. Seven-tenths is ! mountain, heath and lake and the j balance is foresjs. The finest game j preserves in the world are said to bo I In Scotland. A fireman in Pennsylvania In the i act of being married broke away at j the sound of an alarm and ran to a fire. Tlie blaze on Hymen's altar, how- j ever, was fierce enough to bring him \ back in a hurry. The Government in Simla lias pre- ! pared estimates for the new ordnance necessary to bring the Indian army I up to the modern standard. The pro- j portion of guns to men at present is considerably less than three per thou sand; in the ease of the field army this must he raisfed to more than four, which will mean the expenditure of about $15,000,000. The "Children's Court," which is suggested as a branch of the Charities Department of New York City, in the | new city charter, is a novelty adopted I from South Australia, where it has ] proved a great success. Under the j South Australian law children under j eighteen are brought before a separate "departmental court" run by the "State Children's Department," and in (he ! past twelve months 275 eases were | tried before this court, with the result j that only six of the young offenders ' were deemed fit subjects for jail sen- j Vences. The Philadelphia Record observes; I "Another competitor for the honor of t defending the America's cup may turn up at the trial races—a ninety-foot j sloop yacht of Boston origin and de sign. Boston capital and yachting j ability have already figured conspieu- j ously in earlier races for the 'blue rib- | bon of the sea,' and the public have j not yet forgotten the stirring and ! splendid performances of the Puritan, ; tho Mayflower and the Volunteer. J Should the new boat be constructed I the trial races next July would be ' worth crossing the continent to see." j Queen Amelle of Portugal, who re- j cently distinguished herself by saving ! tlie life of a ilrownlug fisherman at [ Cascaes, has a good record for heroic j deeds. Five years ago she rescued two j drowning children at a Portuguese I seaside resort at the risk of losing her j own life, and some time ago she saved | her husband from being thrown over a j high embankment by his horse, which, J slipping on some hot ashes, took fright 1 and bolted. Queen Amelle's superior j horsemanship and licr athletic skll' j stopped both horse and rider from plunging over the embankment to eer- j tain death. Tlio VVnrlil'K Grant Good Men. Tlie world has had on the whole a generous crop of great men. Two classes include them all. There have been those who followed the bent of their genius, seeking their own good and glory TLII-(ill urli the development of their i power Oil lines indicated by personal de sire and ambition. These have done great things for the world as well as lor themselves; because mankind in herits whatever any man is or lias. I'. ;f tliev have done good to others in ei.leh'uli.v and because they could not help ii: ihey have not aimed to do good Kr have been most poets, orate .linen, generals, artists, noli , .Ills. A much smaller class has of men of grci/l powers for their feliow-men. They „re . i oof cv. rv age and • usually been lino o| i ~ n-'IMI'H, prophets, phi! or ■ . mars. T •'i for gold,<ll j much uati . out iillle. %.-%/%/vv% ■%.•%. VJ 5 THEIR WEDDING DAY. J £ BY A. M. CAMERON. A Such a bare little place! ccld and dark and comfortless as a room well nigh innocent of furniture must be, yet sweet and clean and orderly, and above all—home to old sick Molly and Timothy, her husband. "Bring her over at once, then, and the sooner the better; perhaps this will make the journey easier," said the doctor, as he laid a shilling on the table and breathed a sigh of relief. He had come ready prepared to meet the hundred and one difficulties and ob jections usually put forward in such a case, but the convincing arguments had been all unneeded, for .Molly had risen to the occasion bravely and had consented to become an in-patient at the big hospital across the park that very day. So, his task successfully accomplished, the doctor turned to eave the room. "Might it be tonight?" It was Tim tithy who spoke. "I'll bring her for lertain tonight, but we'd like to have .list this one day together first." * "No, bring her at ones as I told you; Ahy, the sooner she is in the sooner the will he out again, you know; what bbjections can you have?" Timothy hesitated, but a glance at Molly's thin face and a certain eager, wistfulness upon it gave him couarge. "It's only this, sir, and it may seem i poor sort of reason to you, but this Is our wedding day, we've never spent It apart yet—and—" The old voice faltered, and the sen tence was never finished for the young mail himself interrupted it — "Reason! why it's the very best of reason, if you lmd only said so at once! Bring her tonight then by all moa'le; good-by till then." Lett with Ills wife, Timothy seated himself beside her and patted her hand encouragingly. "Hospitals are such fine places, Moll." "Very fine, dear," and slio looked at. him with the smile whoso sunshine had maue life bright to him for so long. "Such splendid food and nursing. Moll; and the rooms! why, I'm only afraid you'll he looking down on this poor little place when you come back to it after a hit so well and strong; for it's wonderful how well folks uo get in those hospitals, Moll, quite won derful." "Yes, Timothy, so they do, very of ten." Her lips trembled, but only for a mo ment. Then, with a brave attempt at cheerfulness, she continued— "But Tim, my man. it's getting on, and we're wasting precious time, shan't we begin?" And drawing nearer still, Timothy began. It was ail old. old custom with them now. Year after year in the same simple fashion, though never be fore in such a room or with so little to help the keeping. Formerly the little anniversary festival had been as a sort of happy duet between them, each In turn reviving some sweet old mem ory or cherished recollection. Today, however, Timothy had it all Ms own way for Molly said little only lay back and srailled contentedly or shook her head gently as the ease demanded, while she listened one more to the old familiar story that time only seemed to make more dear. And Timothy told of the happy courting days, happy though wise folks had shaken their heads and had au gured 111 of this foolish marriage; of a certain April morning when a dull Did London church had seemed so still and solemn, anod yet so strangely bright; of tho friends—and he named them one by one—who had collected at her home near by to wish them well; and at last of that real homc joming, the settling down In the poor little attic rooms which his love and thought had made so swfcet and snug and cosoy, "And the violets," she put in quick ly, "don't forget the violets, Tim." potatoes, fried potatoes—and I don't "Ay, the violets, I pinned them on myself, didn't I ? The sweetest breast knot I could find for the sweetest lass In all the world to me." He paused again and she watched him keenly, anxiously. "Yes, Moll," he resumed presently, "don't let us shirk it, old girl; then—" but his voice sounded strange, and she could barely catch tho words, "then came that grand first dinner party of ours; you and me for guests, and fish —fried fish it was, with potatoes—fried potatoes —and I don't know what be sides; and you laughed so because I couldn't help to cook them, do you remember, Moll? T)o you remember?" and throwing back his head, Timothy burst suddenly into a laugh so strange and wild that It well-nigh tore poor Molly's heart in two. Then, as sud denly ceasing, he buried his face In his hands and sobbed as though his heart must break, while the quiet tears ran down her old cheeks too, and what could she say to comfort him? For nine and thirty years that little anniversary feast had been celebrated so worthily, every item of that, happy first meal together repeated, and now! "Oh. my Moll, my Moll," he sobbed, "you must go without it today. I've no money left, not oven a penny; poor girl, my poor, old girl." She dared not trust hcrkelf to speak, only stroked the gray head softly, tenderly. Suddenly he raised it, and looking not at her hut at the doctor's shilling, he pointed eagerly to it. "Moll!" But she shook her head sadly. "It was for tho cab, Tim. There Is neither train nor 'bus to help me, and I must go in, you know." * He sat still once more lost in thought. Then jumping up excitedly he stood before her and spoke fast and eagerly. "Moil! think! You know the park, .quite near? Could you with my arm, my strong arm, dear, could you walk 10 its gates? You could? Then listen, Moll; I'll carry you through, it's not far, and then, why then, it's but a step 011 the other side to the hospital door, do you see, old. woman, do you see?" Moil nodded, but looked confused. The nod, however, apparently satisfied him, for he offered no further explana tion, only asked if she minded being left by herself for a bit, and then, smiling mysteriously, disappeared. Left alone, Molly lay still, too tired and weak to wonder much at anything, while her mind wandered dreamily back again over the pages of that old life story whose joys and sorrows seemed today to have become so strangely merged in one; tiil at last she remembered no more, the tired eyes closed wearily, and calmly and peacefully old Mollie slept. Timothy's re-entrance awakened her and she smiled a welcome. He came forward eagerly, his old face Hushed and glad, his little body 1' lit. half double over the covered tray his shaking arms were carrying so proudly; a tray from which there is sued forth the all-pevading smell, ap petizing or sickening as the case may be, of—fried fish! "Shut your eyes tight, old girl, just for a few moments," he cried out; and still beaming from ear to ear, Tim brought forward a little round table, placed it near Molly's chair, and softly and quickly proceeded to lay it. Fish potatoes! bread! butter! tea! milk; Why, what more could king or queen desire? And all from the marvellous possibilities of one bright shilling; Then, diving into the mysterious depths of a back pocket. Timothy pro duced therefrom a little bunch of vio lets, crushed indeed and faded, but sweet still, and bending softly over Moll lie gently fastened thorn on her breast. Then seating himself opposite to her he told her eagerly she might "look." Her unaffected surprise was rich re ward indeed. "It's your cab, dear heart," he cried. "Your cab! you couldn't use it and a riding horse too, could you? and here's your horse all saddled anil ready. It's quite right and square, Moll," he added, quickly, as he caught sight of an expression of doubt on her honest face. "Didn't the doctor say it was to make the journey easier and won't It, old girl, won't It? Ah, I thought that would settle it.' Whatever she may have felt, Molly had not the heart to object any fur ther, and so the wedding feast pro ceeded. Timothy picked out the daintiest and most tempting morsels ho could find, and for his sake she did her best bravely, hut it was hard work. Every thing tasted so strangely today; even that blessed cup of tea seemed to have lost the magic of its strengthening and reviving powers ;and at length, all further effort impossible, she waved off tlie last proffered morsel and lying back wearily, shook her head. "Eat it yourself, you don't cheat fair, my man; and, ah, Tim," she added sadly, "you've forgotten some thing after all, for that day you drank our health in a glass of beer." Timothy expected this, and was not to be taken unawares. "Beer!" he answered unblushingly, "ah, yes, to be sure, so I did; and I was just thinking as I came along how tastes change. Why, there's a some thing almost unpleasant to me in the very idea now! So today if you please, my lass, I'll just drink your health in tea." Molly said nothing. Only for a few minutes the room seemed dim and misty, and lite was very sweet. And so once more that wedding feast was kept. A little later, just as the short sprinr day was drawing to a close, the iew pedestrians hurriedly wending their homeward way across that quiet bit of the park, paused for a moment to gaze at a somewhat unusual sight. It was that of a little old man, weak and tot tering himself, but pushing bravely and steadily on with eyes firmly fixed on the still far distant gates, and car rying on his back, her thin arms clasped about his Leek, her hands firm ly grasped in his, an old sick woman, Molly, his wife. Hearts are kind, and more than one friendly oiler of help had been made to Timothy, but though grateful for the offers he had seemed almost Impatient at the delay, and declining all assist ance had plodded quietly on again. He could hardly have told how often he had stopped to rest since first that strange journey had been begun; cet t.ainly each time that the shelter of a friendly seat had been gained, often of necessity when there had been no such help ht hand. Somehow he had fan cied himself so much stronger than had proved to be the case, for it sure ly could not be that Molly was heavier than he had imagined, and she EO Weak and ill! At first her cough had been terribly bad and it had torn and hurt him so to hear it; but of late it had seemed to gel better and at last it had ceased altogether, and very gratefully Tim othy had thanked God for that. A few moments ago they had stopped to rest again for th 6 last tljM and he had questioned her tenderly as to how shs did. Her face looked paler he thought, but she seemed easy and happy, and she hnd smiled so sweetly at him as she answered rather drowsily, "Quite comfortable, Timothy, only very sleepy; good night, my man," and he had kissed her lips tenderly and rever ently as he always did, and then cheered and comforted had once more pushed on. Ah! there were the park gates al most reached at last; and indeed it was time, for his old arms ached ter ribly and his old knees threatened to fail him altogether. He spoke encour agingly to her from time to time, but she had evidently fallen asleep for sae did not answer him. It was better so, he thought, for now she could not guess how tired he was, and it would have hurt and vexed her sorely had she known it; his good old loving Moll! Only a few more weary steps and the gates were really gained. Passing through them on they went, theße two strange travelers, and the little band of urchins in their wake noticed that just before the great door of the hospi tal came in sight the old man panted more and more and his poor little stock of strength seemed almost ex hausted. Yes, the labor of love was all but over now; one more effort and the goal was reached. Worn and weary, and spent with fatigue, but still clasping tight that precious burden, Timothy stumbled up the last steep steps, and as friendly arms drew him into the sate shelter of that fire-lit hall, and kindly faces looked pityingly into his, the place seemed suddenly to become confused ana misty, the voices to re cede further and further away, till at last, wrapped in a mericful uncon sciousness, he remembered no more. Faithful unto death; his task was done; that kiss in the park had indeed sealed their last good-hy, and his lov ing old arms had held her to the end. For,as they gently unclasped her arms from about his neck, they saw that Molly was dead. They would so willingly have kept him on, at least a day or two, till he should have recovered somewhat from the shock of that first sad awakening, but the old man was firm. The little attic room was his for a week or two longer and then—why, then there was the "House," he said; the dreaded law of separation had lost all power to hurt him now; he would just take one more look at her and then go home. They went with him to where she lay, the matron and a doctor; not the friendly young doctor of the morning, hut another whose face looked unsat isfied and tired. Something had gone amiss with his life-springs of late, and since then he had ceased to believe in the possibility of good, either human or divine, and now he eyed Timothy with n half curious, half pitying gaze. The latter shed no tears, had shed none indeed since first they broke the news to him; the comfort of them might conic later, perhaps, and there was time enough. lie stood by her now, perfectly com posed and calm, scanning earnestly each still feature and though to learn it the better by heart. Then it laid his honest, old, work-worn hand on hers and kept It there for a moment. "The ring," whispered the doctor to the matron, "It may buy him a drop of comfort <at least. Let him have it." She hesitated; then touching Tim othy gently on the arm she pointed to it. "You will like to have it, perhaps?" she asked softly. He glanced down at it, such a poor little line of gold, worn thin in long and lr.ying service for him, and shook his head. "Thank you, ma'am," he answered gratefully. "You're very kind, but I'd rather not. Come good or ill, my old woman would never part with that, and I won't take it from her now." He hesitated for a moment, then gaining courage as he looked into the matron's sympathetic face, he contin ued — "If 1 might make so bold, ma'am, would you let me have my dear girl's bonnet?" Very tenderly sne gave it to him, such a poor, rusty thing, and he re ceived it reverently as we do some thing that is sacred and very precious; then with a grateful "Thank you, ma'am," he turned to leave the room. He glanced towards the doctor as though to bid him good-by too, but he had moved oft from them and seemed busy over something at the further end of the ward. So Timothy went away. He had almost reached the great outer hall when he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps behind him and his own nante spoken, and turning round he saw the doctor. The latter looked at him silently for a moment, and there was an expres sion on his face that had been wanting there of late. "Will you shake hands with me?" said the doctor.—Waverly Magazine. Ito.valty in the Hcnlee. The Cri de Paris has put all the sov ereigns and rulers of Europe into the scales and weighed them—not politi cally, but physically. The heaviest ruler in Europe is Carlos of Portugal, who weighs 202 pounds. The second in heaviness Is Ferdinand of Bulgaria, with 192; the third is Oscar of Sweden whose weight is 176. Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany weighs nearly 176 pounds; Kaiser Franz Josef of Austria-Hun gary, 154 pounds; l.eopold of Belgium, 143. The Russian Czar Is very light; has lost 14 pounds during the last two years. The "little" Queen of Holland weighs 171 pounds, and the of Hollanw weighs 171 pounds, and the still smaller King of Spain only 99 pounds. President Loubet weighs 180 pounds. ! INDIAN CHILDHOOD. I . HOW LITTLE REDSKINS ON THE j RESERVATIONS ARE TRAINED. Compared witYi the Papoose, the Miner able Urchin* Who Play in a lilt; City'* i tin nor* Have, a 1-ukuriotiM liiuo—There !• No Dandling and No Coddling. | Compared with the lives led by the full-blooded Indian children of the Northwestern reservations, the miser able urchins who play in a city's gut ters dwell in a paradise of joys. The gutter snipe is almost certain to have some marbles or a top in his clothes; he can earn a few pennies for him self upon occasion; he is quick-wit ted and brimming with nervous ener gy; of mirth-provoking expedients, he is as full as an egg is of meat, and j at repartee he has no equal. Indian children, on the other hand, are born grave and solemn and stolid. The art of self-repression practised for centuries by their ancestors has become a second nature to them— i inherited—with the result of trans forming what should be their golden age into mere existence, joyless and apathetic. In babyhood their training comp?l3 them to endure without whimpering discomforts and hardships which would destroy children of the white race. Strapped tightly to the back of a squaw or left to themselves so tied in a blanket that use of their limbs is denied them, they arc mere silent bundles, voiceless, without will or power. There is no dandling, no cod dling. no one to teach them to smile, no effort to develop the softer side of their natures. The squaw is too busy hewing wood or carrying water or pro paring food for her buck and brood, or in making beaded wares to sell to the trader for that. And when they are old enough to be trusted upon their legs alone and unfettered they are left to themselves, with less care than a litter of pigs receives from the sow mother--until such time as the squaw perceives that she may lighten her own labors by compelling the papoose to share in them. There is no running "to meet papa," no clinging to his legs as he walks, no riding "cock-horse" on his fee). Until they have shown character in some unexpected way or performed some unexpected deed the buck father will bestow upon them less attention than he gives to his pony, or his herd of ponies, if he is rich. Gene, the 8-year-old son of Standing F. I k on the Cheyenne reservation at Lame Deer. Montana, crawled out of his blankets one dark night, and guided by the beating of tomtoms and the lci-yi-ing that usually accompan ies such an affair, made his way alone to the Rosebud, where White Bull's bucks were having a "ghost dance." He did not dare to mingle with the dancers, so he hid in the bunch grass near by and watched the bucks as they stamped and chanted round the fire. Gone had unsuspected powers of mimicry. The dancing made a strong Impression on him. Next morning when Standing Elk darted out of his wickiup to chastise the noisy young ster, he was astonished at what he saw and heard. There was Gene stamping about with the grace and vigor of a practiced dancer, to no other accompaniment than his own ki-yi-ing. He twisted and contorted and stamped like an old-timer, and he had the steps down so pat that his genius for that sort of thing was Lome in on Standing Elk in a flash. Calling to his squaw, Standing Elk bade her find bells and headdress and fallals of the conventional sort for the boy, and when the youngster was thus togged out his father bade him dance before the chiefs of the tribe. Genq acquitted himself so well that he won the approval of the chiefs, and is now the most envied boy on the reser vation. Little Indian maidens would walk miles just to have him say "How" to them. Sometimes this recognition is won for the Indian boy by skill in the chase, or in breaking ponies, or in doing what Eastern children would call "stunts" on horseback. But until it is won the Indian boy is a non entity, and few obtain it so early in life as Standing Elk's papoose. It is In that period when the white boy of the same age is suffering the pangs of puppy love that the young buck Indian begins to get something out of life. He grows vain after recog nition and becomes ambitious to do more and better, after the Indian fashion, than the others who have found favor. He engages with these others in pony races, and strives to outdo them in skill and in mischief. This is the danger period for whites living near the reservations, for the theft of cattle, the intimidation of women, and sometimes unprovoked murder all make for the reputation and glory of the young buck who can do these things and avoid detection or punishment. Indian females, except in rare in stances, are doomed from earliest childhood to a life of drudgery, almost of slavery. The cares of the tribe are packed upon their shoulders—except ing only such troubles as call for the shedding of blood. All of the physical labor falls to their lot. In the adjoining reservation it is the Crow woman who till the fields where farming is done. There is no farming worth speaking of on the Cheyenne reservation, although the government keeps a hired man on tne ground to teach farming to those Indians who care to learn. It is also the squaw who hows and carries in the winter's supply of firewood, who performs all the labor of moving camp, who gives the buck everything she can, and who gets little in re- turn, except it be a strip of calico now and again at remote periods, or a blanket. She expects and she r<l 4 ceives almost nothing in the way o.W kindness, but she is content —or pre tends to be. There is no appeal from the will of her lord and master; j there is 110 woman's rights orator to j stir her to revolt; no new woman to ! show her how she might "go it alone." | If she sells beaded ornaments to the | post trador or to transient visitors, | the buck pockets the cash, and when he spends it he does so without re gard for her needs, wishes or whims. And it is this sort of an existence that the Indian female looks forward to from the time when she begins to think.—Chicago Tribune. COLORADO'S WISE FISH. A Trout Which Soemn to Lead Ilia Com panions Whither They should <o. There is one fish owned by the state of Colorado which will, in ail i, ? probability, never dangle at the end of a line to make sport for some an gler. Instead it will subsist peace fully on ground liver and be petted and cared for at Brighton fish hatch ery, of which E. L. Hagar is superin tendent. For this fish is the guiding - spirit among all the small fry and leads them not only in the paths of righteousness, hut into the pools where Mr. Hagar desires that they should stay. The fish at the hatcheries are kept in several small pools in order that they may be separated according to their kind and cared for properly. Oc casionally it was desired to clean these pools or make some alteration to them. This used to cause a great deal of trouble for tho superintend ent. It was almost impossible to get all the fish out of the pools without killing many of them. They were so small that they could easily slip through the meshes of an ordinary net and many of them were crushed in tho net. Unless the pool was cleaned every so often the fish would die. •! During Mr. Hagar's superintend- j ency he has made an especial pet of | one of the largest trout in the hatch eries. Whenever he fed this fish this trout was always among the first to come to him and finally grew so daring that It would snap at pieces of the liver which he held in his hand. Whenever he appeared on the walks surrounding the pool this trout would always come to him and as ho walked around the pool it would follow him. The other fish in the pool learned that the big trout al ways got most of the good things to eat and consequently there finally grew a good sized procession when ever the big trout assumed the role of leader. Finally Mr. Hagar had an inspira tion. One day when ho wanted to clean the pool which was the big trout's home he opened the inlet lead ing into another pool and got his pro cession started by holding out a handful of ground liver toward the big trout, which thereupon was willing to follow him anywhere. In this way Mr. Hagar conducted all the fish into the other pool without the slightest difficulty and without losing any of them. Since then whenever he has wished to clean any of the pools he lias first secured tho big trout and then, with It for a leader, he has had no difficulty in getting tho rest of the funny population out of the way.— Denver Republican. GUAINT AND CURIOU& On the big steamer Oceanic there is no seat at table marked No. 13, nor any cabin bearing that number. This is a concession to superstition. In a notice recently posted in a church at West Kensington (London), prospective pew purchasers were in formed that certain pews were cially desirable." because "the contri bution plate is not passed to them." Near Worms, Germany, a few days ago a number of prehistoric tombs were laid bare containing skeletons of what must have been an exceed ingly tall race of people, all buried in a stopping posture. The relics are assigned to a period 4000 years ago. Rats in the mines of Colorado have bushy tails, like squirrels. They are petted by the minors, and sit on their haunches beside the workmen while the latter eat their meals, waiting for scraps to be thrown to them. Min ers always share their meals with them and never try to harm them. While an old Paris hawker named Mme. Jean Jacques was trying the other day to dislodge a mouse which had sought refuge in the chimney * she disturbed some bricks and discov ered a hiding place containing bills to the value of SBOOO, which had be longed to a former tenant of miserly habits. A curious old method of letting church and town lands which pre vails at Corby, near Kettering, Eng land, was put In force recently. Tho parishioners having assembled in the vestry, with the rector in the chair, a candle was lit with a pin stuck in the wax. Bidding then proceeded until the pin dropped, when the last bidder was declared the purchaser. Experiment 3 with worms have been tried by Mrs. W. H. Pinney of Spring field, Mass. She took 12 earthworms, divided each in two parts, and placed each part in a spcarate glass. A tail grew to the head part of each worm, and a head grew to the tail part of each of 10 worms. Two tail parts failed to grow heads. The result of this experiment wai 22 perfect worxng.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers