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THE BOGEY,
IM like to know what's 'round to make
The floors go "creak" at night,
80. suddenly, I'm wide awake
And stare with all my might.
I sort of 'spect It's looking ou 4 '
To get some little tad—
A tad the size of me, about —
Because that he's been bad!
And first I hear It "in the hall.
With " r< ky, creaky, crcak" —
Ma'd come, you bet, if I should call;
But I'm afraid to speak!
And then It's in the room—and then
It's coming at the bed!
I pray; "Please help me. God!—amen/'
And cover up my head.
I think of all flip things T did
I hadn't ought to do.
And wonder if perhans I'm hid,
Or if It sees right t hrough.
And. Oh! I promor. hope to die,
A hundred linn s, or more,
I'll be a better boy than I
Have ever been before.
I dasn't even strike a match
To see if It is there—
For ff I move It's close to catch
And how 1 wish for morning light!
Bu- Someth ng about by night
That isn't 'round by day!
—Edwin L. Sabin. in Puck.
mm
te as*
"What is worse than a giraffe with
a sore throat?" "A centipede with
chilblains."—Christian Register.
"Sportleight is bound to be in style,
isn't lie?" "Oh, yes. He'd rather be in
style than out of debt!"—ruck.
"Pa, what's the first requisite of a
patriot?" "That he belongs to your
party."—Chicago Record-Herald.
What's in a name? It is to laugh!
The thought inspires a burst of it,
A wife is called the better half,
Yet often gets the worst of it
—Philadelphia Record.
Charles—"Did the tailor take your
measure?" Algy—"l think he did. He
said I'd have to pay in advance."—Tit-
Bits.
"There's one good thing about an
automobile." "What's that?" "li
doesn't try to run up to every watering
fountain it comes to."—Puck.
Chide not the man who talks too much, I
But let him have iiis way.
His own endeavors will achieve
What he deserves, some day
—Washington Star. I
"Charlie I Minna is awfully sweet, j
don't you think?" "Yes. They say lie I
was shot at twice in the Adirondack** !
because he looks so much like a deer." !
—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Willie Bookworm—"Matnma, I feel
so queer." Mother—"You've been eat
ing some of those rich, indigestible
recipes in the cook book again, you
naughty boy!"— Chicago News.
"After all, you'll find the man who
always tells the truth is the nicst suc
cessful in business." "Huh! Ho isn't
in it with the man who is beli ved in
everything he says."—Philadelphia
Press.
Mamma—"What's the matter, Wil
lie? Didn't you have a good time at
the party?" Willie—"Naw!" "Why?
Didn't you got enough to eat?" "Yes;
but 1 didn't get 100 much."—Philadel
phia Record.
"My lime," said iln- i.i wl i i million
aire, "is worth a hundred dollars a
minute." "Well," answered the friend,
casually, "lets's go out this afternoon
and play ten or fifteen thousand dol
lars' worth of golf."—Washington Star
A new boy had come lo school fresh
from the country, and the ready "Sir"
and "Miss" of the city child were quite
unknown to him. "What's your
name?" queried the master "George
Hamilton." "Add 'Sir' to that, boy."
"Sir George Hamilton," came the uu
expected reply.—Boston Courier
Mrs. A. (before the full-length por
trait of a girl)—"Oh, if 1 only knew the
painter of this!" Artist (stepping for
ward, joyfully)—" Permit me, madam
to introduce myself as the painter"
Mrs. A.—"What extraordinary good
luck! Now you will tell me, won't
you, the address of the dressmaker
who made this girl's frock?" —Tit-Bits.
Theodore—"it's all right, darling. I
have met your father, and we took to
one another at once lie even went so
far as to borrow $lO of me. Surely
he can't refuse me your ha ul after
that." Edith—"Dory I'm afraid you
have made a muss of it. Pa told nie
about the $lO, and told me I'd better
let you slide; that you were to) easy."—
Boston Transcript.
'HEROES AND HEROES.
We give unstinted praise to the mac
Who is brave enough to die;
But the man who struggles unflinchingly
Against the currents or destiny
And bears the storm of adversity,
We pass unnoticed by.
We've plaudits and tears for him who
falls,
Borne down in the shock of strife;
But a word of cheer we neglect to say
To him who plods on his dreary way
And tights in silence from day to day
The unseen battles of life.
There's courage, I grant, required to face
Grim death on the gory field.
There's also courage required to meet
Life's burden and sorrow; to brave defeat;
To strive with evil and not retreat;
To suffer and not to yield.
IN LOVE WITH A WIG.
I HAVE sometimes felt that I
was constant by the merest
chance, and as my marriage has
CY* turned out happily lam grate
ful for the interposition, though tak
ing no credit to myself. I ought to
say that I have never told this story
to my wife and she would scarcely be
likely to appreciate it If I did. but
I mean to set the truth down here,
though I shall not give the real names.
I will cull myself George Grey, and
my wife I will call Amy—nee Farrers.
Well, I was engaged to Miss Ferrers,
and I loved her passionately, the
more passionately perhaps, because
my position held out no prospect of
making her Mrs. George Grey for
years.
She was the second daughter of R
rector in the shires, and I had met her
when I was in the neighborhood fish
ing. An acquaintance took me to the
house, and it was a very pleasant one.
The rector was a charming man. his <
daughters were worthy of him; as to
Amy, she was the loveliest and sweet
est girl I had ever seen in my life.
1 stayed down in Threegates, fish
ing, for nearly a month, though I had
origi nail* intended to limit my visit
to a week, and I think Amy was sorry
when at last I told her I had decided
to go. *
"I shall r.*ver forget this holiday of
mine," I feaid; "but now I must bring
it to an end and get back to the dust
and grime of the Temple. Stewing in
chambers, I shall often think of Three
gates and the trout stream and—my
friends."
Unconsciously I adopted the tone of
a Q. C. at least. I spoke as if I were
returning to a legal treadmill, though
If I received a couple of briefs a year
I held myself extremely fortunate.
We were in the rectory garden, and
she was wearing a broad-brimmed hat
of straw, and held a bunch of daffodils
in her hands . Was it my fancy, or
when she bent over them did she do
it to hide the regret in her face?
"I am glad you have found it so
enjoyable," she murmured. "It's a
pretty place, I think."
She had never looked so beautiful.
I was saying "good-by" to her, and I
was twenty-five. The result might
have been foreseen. I took her bands
in mine, daffodils and all, and told lier
that I loved her; that I had never
loved before, and could never love
again. I cried to her that I had not
the right to ask any girl to be my
wife, but my passion was stronger
than my self-restraint. She was my
world, my all. I adored her. Life
without her was an agony too awful
to contemplate. Would she, could she,
reconcile herself to wait for a beggar
who to-day could offer nothing but the
wildest devotion that had ever been
laid at a woman's feet?
Words altogether unpremeditated
broke from me in a torrent of fervor.
My heart hounded furiously; my ex
citement seemed even to communicate
itself to tho rooks among the houghs
overhead, who cawed so violently that
they appeared to be drowning my
speech. When I ceased her head
drooped, and my darling was all
smiles and tears at once. The daffodils
lay scattered on the lawn, and I was
engaged!
Well, I postponed my departure for
three days, and those days were de
lightful. Her father—least mercenary
of men—consented cordially. We were
■ both young enough to wait, lie said,
and I was adopted as one of the fam-
I lly without demur. The girls were
warm in congratulations—no fellow
ever had nicer sister-in-laws—and
Amy was the divinest little fiancee
that it was possible for a human im
agination to conceive. Yes, those
three days were ecstatic, and so were 1
tho weeks that followed, when I wrote
and received a love letter per diem,
and it was only as the weeks merged
Into months and the mouths Into a
year that I begun to ask myself how
and when I expected to be able to
marry.
I was depressed by degrees. My
prospects, as I have sahl, were of the
vaguest. I was still doing nothing
to speak of at the bar, and even when
I ran down to sec Amy, and she did
her best to cheer me up, the futility
of her encouragement was not to ho
blinded by a man possessed of toler
ably clear sight.
"We must be patient, George," she
would say. "Everything will come
right at the end. I am sure of It. and
when the briefs are rolling In we shall
lcok back at this time and laugh."
I though it very possible that I
should laugh under those conditions,
hut there was a gulf between the
present and the opulent future which
her words did nothing to bridge.
6ome moment? are there in every life
When the spirit longs for rest;
Wbn the heart is filled with a bleak de
spair
When the weight of trouble, remorse and
Seems really greater than we can bear.
And death vere a welcome guest.
•But Ave crush it down and we go our way
To the duties that lie in wait.
From day to day we renew the fight,
To resist the wrong and to seek the right,
To climb at Inst to the suncrowned height
And to climb o'er time and fate.
And thus—for my heart goes out to them—
My meed of praise I would give
To those who struggle life's path along,
The host of toil, who are patient, strong,
The unrewarded unnumbered throng,
VVho are brave enough to live.
At length I decided to do what many
another fellow has decided to do sim
ilarly circumstanced. I resolved to
consign lay profession to the deuce
and to seek new pastures in America.
What I proposed should be my plan of
campaign in America is not at this
date clear to me, but I remember it
seemed to me then a most desirable
and practical step to take, and not
even Micawber departing for Aus
tralia felt more confident of "some
thing turning up" on the foreign shores
than I.
Of course Amy wept and was deso
late, but we had been engaged now for
nearly three years, and firmly and
with a business-like lucidity on which
I prided myself—l remind myself most
strongly of the Micawbers in retrospec
tion—l showed her that it was the
only course for us. I said that Eng
land—l called it the "old country" al
ready—was playing out. In the United
•States, I observed, energy and youth
had a chance of coming to the front.
To cling to a pinking ship—the "sink
ing ship" was t bo bar—was a coward
ly and disastrou • thing, I declared, and
finally I paint( . a picture of my ris
ing to dizzy h lits in the United
States and her coining across to ine in
a twelve months' time to be my wife.
The pictures of making her home in
the United States did not seem to at
tract her, so 1 altered that part, and
in the amended version I returned
after twelve months with my pile in
my pocket and we settled In London.
Besides Amy and her people, who
regarded me as n perfect hero and
gave me keepsakes to think of them
by in the distant land, the only person
to whom it was necessary to announce
my Intention was a maiden, aunt of
mine, who lived in Dorking. She told
me frankly that I was a fool.
As she looked at me with a certain
admiration, however, I was inclined
to think that in her heart of hearts
she was not without a sentiment of
approval for my action, and I was
firm once more and reiterated the argu
ments with which I had favored Amy.
My relative gave inc an excellent
lunch, and, after wishing her an affec
tionate farewell—for she had always
been very nice to me—l went back to
town and commenced my prepara
tions.
My furniture, consisting of a desk,
an armchair, and a few dilapidated ar
ticles which I forget, 1 disposed of "at
a saerifice." I ordered a couple of suits
of clothes—clothes I had understood
were dear In America—and I booked
a passage by the Germania.
Having put. my affairs in order, and
having received to my surprise, a let
ter from Dorking repeating that I was
a fool, and inclosing a check for £;~0,
I paid a last visit to Throegates, folded
Amy hi my arms and sailed.
I enjoyed the voyage immensely.
We had fine weather, sociable people
on beard, and I was exhilarated by a
consciousness that 1 was doing a noble
and resolute thing. I smoked my pipe
with satisfaction and looked at the
ocean in the moonlight and Amy's
photograph with pleasurable sentimen
tality. So much for the trip.
I arrived in New York with the best
part of £IOO in my purse, thanks to
my aunt's liberality, and I went to a
hotel and thence removed to a comfor
table boarding house, in order to give
myself time to look around.
No immediate prospect of making
a very large fortune presented itself,
and my money dwindled rapidly.
When I had been in New York a few
months I was glad to forget my anx- |
iety In reading.
1 mention this because it led to an
important event.
I learned that there was an admira
ble public library near by—tbe public
libraries of America are better than
ours—and one day I strolled in there
to see what of the newest fiction I
could procure.
It was a huge building, and in the
upstairs room to which I was directed
I found the attendants were all young
women.
The book I asked for was "out," but
I was supplied with another. I read
It and returned it the following after
noon, when the hook 1 most desired
was "out" again. This went on for
a week—l always missed it-and I ex
pressed my annoyance at last rather
emphatically.
As I was doing so my eyes fell on
one of the girls behind the coYmter,
who riveted my attention in the most
extraordinary manner for an engaged
man. This girl—l cannot find a proper
adjective to describe her—well, she
was peerless! Her hair was positively
the most glorious color 1 hail ever seen
on a woman, there was just a soupcon
of red In It—only a soupcon, though—
and it had a natural ripple hi it all
over, from the whiteness of her brow
down the nape of her divine neck. Un
der this imagine blue eyes, and you
have an idea of what she looked like.
A veritable goddess!
She had heard my exclamation and
moved forward with a smile.
"What is it you are asking for?"
she asked.
1 told her.
"Oh," she said, "you see it ta a new
book, and, of course, there is a demand
for it. I'll tell you what I will do—
the next time it comes in I will save
It for you."
I thanked her cordially, and she
proved as good as her word, for the
following afternoon when I presented
myself she nodded directly she saw
me and held it up.
"I am awfully obliged," I said. "That
was really kind of you. Have you had
it yourself?"
"Yes."
Somebody claimed her and I went 1
away. • It does not sound stable in a I
fiance, but I must confess that I read |
the work hurriedly in order to have j
an opportunity of seeing my goddess I
soon again.
I changed my books every day now, !
always going to that part of the long J
counter where she was standing and j
always admirlDg her more fervidly ;
than before. I feasted my eyes on the
g'rl. If I saw her full face or in pro- I
file, or if she had her back to mo, she j
was still conspicuous, stately and en- !
tirely adorable. I thought about her
when I was at my home. I could not (
banish her from my memory.
How this might have ended, who !
shall say? Did Amy's dynasty totter |
in the balance? I fear, sorely and !
tremendously, I fear that it did, but It
was restored in a bewildering and
even disparaging fashion.
Who can conceive my astonishment
when on entering the library one j
morning I saw my divinity with her '
hair cut short—cropped like a hoy's!
I was staggered, breathless. Mo- :
mentarily I had failed to recognize her, i
she was so painfully changed. Gone !
those intoxicating ripples. Gone even
the richness of color! Gone the queen- !
liness of carriage!
"Why," I gasped—l could not sup- j
press the question—"my dear young j
lady, why have you had your hair
cut since yesterday?"
"I haven't," she said. "It was cut
six months ago when I was ill. What
I have been wearing until it grew on
again was a wig."
No. I did not break down. I even •
stammered a suitable commonplace, i
but the shock was terrible. I never .
returned to the library.
And I married Amy—yes. I did not
make a fortune in New York, but my
aunt died very shortly afterward and
it was found that she had bequeathed
me the whole of her property—a very
comfortable one. I married Amy, and
we are very happy together. Only j
sometimes I cannot help wondering j
if that other girl had been all 1 I
thought her, whether—but then there !
was no such girl. I was in love with |
a wig.—Waverly Magazine.
A Lieutenant's Clever Jtuse.
General McArthur, despite his dis
tinction and his many successes, mod
estly prefers to speak the praises of
others.
To a naval officer whom he enter
tained at Manila some time ago he
told a good story about Lieutenant J. J
C. Gi 11more, U. S. N„ who was cap
tured with seven men of the York
town at Baler, Luzon Island, In April,
181)9, by the Philippine Insurgents and
held prisoners for mouths in the moun
tains.
One of the prisoners, who spoke
Spanish fluently, was commanded to
translate into English decoy letters ad
dressed "To Whom It May Concern,"
stating that the bearers were warm
friends of the Americans, and had
failed in aiding them to escape only
because of the vigilance of the in
surgent guards.
"It was the intention," said General
MacArtliur, "to have these letters used
whenever the bearers might be cap
tured by our forces, and also as pass
ports for spies. Those superintending
this literary coup had sufficient knowl
edge of English to make out the gen
eral sentiment of the document.
"Lieutenant Uillmore insisted," con
tinued the General, that as chief of
ficer among the prisoners he be given
the privilege of looking over what had
been written. Nodding approval over
each letter lie added to each the word
'Nit,' which the insurgents accepted
as an official vise of the papers."
General MucArthur showed one of
these letters. "You can imagine," said
he, "the unbounded admiration it cre
ated for the resourcefulness of Lieu
tenant Gillmore."—Philadelphia Satur
day Evening Post.
A Stroke of Bnterpriic.
A restaurant keeper in a New Eng
land city accomplished a neat stroke
of enterprise by offering a prize of $5
to the lady making tlie best-looking
pumpkin pie. During the contest the
sidewalk in front of his place was
piled high with the golden gourds and
the show windows held the unique
and tempting exhibit. Each pie en
tered was numbered, and all patrons
of the restaurant bad a vote ou their
choice. The result of the contest was
most gratifying to the originator of
the scheme, as he received nearly 20fi
pies and made over twenty-five new
customers, and all at an expense of
$5 for the prize and $2 for pumpkins.
—Printer's ink.
II o IT to Kilter the Will to Honw,
A new rule of the White House re
quires every one who comes in to en
ter by the front door. Those who
have been accustomed to climb h
through the windows and slide down
the chimneys, should paste this some
j where.—Kansas City Journal.
HAWAIIAN SUPERSTITION. j
Popular Beliof That. Royal Family ITad
Supernatural Powers.
"That the former royal family of
! Hawaii had supernatural powers is
' still firmly believed by a very large
. number of natives on those islands,"
! said Chief Examiner Severn, of the
! Civil Service Commission. "When
| Commissioner Rodenberg and myself
i visited the city of Hilo when we were
1 on the islands recently, we were told
; the story by Princess Emma, of the
; Hawaiian royalty, of the rescue of
! that city from destruction by a vol
| cano. The story was told us by the
judge of the city and vouched for by i
half a dozen Americans, who claimed j
I to know personally,
j "The volcano which was doing the j
| damage was some thirty miles from j
! the city. It began with active opera
tions, and the stream of lava which ;
flowed from it. started straight for the ;
city of Hilo. covering an area about i
half a mile wide. The flow of lava !
was small, as it gained only a small j
; distance each clay. It presented a •
j solid wall of red-hot stone six or eight .
] fret high, and remains to corroborate j
tho story.
| "As the lava approached the city !
; the natives became much alarmed j
j and were en the verge of panic when i
j a message came from Princess Emma, j
I She said that when there was any 1
: danger of the destruction of the city j
| by the lava, if she was informed o' j
! the same, she would come to Hilo and j
| stop its flow. This message was just •
lin time. The lava had reached to
within half a mile of the city, and the
i Princess was sent for in great haste.
| She came at once, bringing a live '
| white dove, a suckling pig, and a hot- !
tie of native rum. The populace of j
the city all followed her as she pro- I
cecded to the edge of the lava. When j
there she ordered the pig killed, and j
! dipping up its blood with her fingers, i
, she sprinkled its blood upon tho lava, '
repeating lbs- while some strange nn- !
! live lingo. The death of tho dove fol- !
| lowed, and its blood was likewise
I sprinkled on the flowing stone. Last
i came the rum, and this was poured as ■
a sacrifice to the mystic power.
! "The story ends here, for the lava j
j never flowed another foot. The city !
, of Ililo was saved, and Princess Em- I
mn, likewise all of the royal blood, can |
to this day wield all powerful sway
with tho natives of Hawaii."—Wash
ington Star.
An Inßlillouß Circular.
A place to don evening dress without i
going home is one of the latest conven- |
icnces offered to New York bachelors. |
In the Century Eliot Gregory has tbi3 j
to say of it:
An insidious little circular has of
late been calliug the attention of New
Yorkers to certain down town parlors
where a man may keep evening
clothes, an extra top-coat, and other
changes of apparel, avoiding in this
way the annoyance of going home to
drc-ss. As the collitrs of Killings
worth, who witnessed the first jour
neys of Stephenson's "traveling en
giue" did not, in all probability, appre
ciate the importance of the experiment
going on under their eyes, nor foresee
the revolution the little machine was
destined to work In the habits of man
kind, so the recipient of this circular
doubtless fails to grasp its real purport
or the possibilities that lie dormant in
that innovation. The plan is only a
germ as yet, but what changes will en
sue when our women have seized upon
and elaborated the scheme?
With a wardrobe Judiciously dis
tributed in different parts of the city
and its suburbs, a demoiselle will be
able to go through the successive
transformations required by her day's
amusement, jump from riding habit to
golf skirt, into luncheon, reception and
boll dress, without the tiresome neces
sity of re-entering the family circle.
Think what saving of nerves and cab
fare will result! Two of New York's
largest department stores already pro
vide bath rooms where customers can
take dips between a tussel at the bar
gain counter and a quick lunch. The
phrase, "All the comforts of home,"
will soon be as obsolete as the place
Itself, and returning there except to
sleep will be eliminated l'rom the list
of u damsel's duties.
Deposit Money No I'ietiffo.
"There was a time," said the woman
who keeps boarders, "when, if a per
son paid a deposit on a room, I con
sidered it as good as rented, but I don't
figure tbat way any more. Either peo
ple have more money than they used
to have or less sense of houor, I don't
know which. At any rate, there has
been a change, and nowadays when
a prospective hoarder comes along and
picks out n room that he says he likes
und backs up his word by giving ine
or ¥3 aa u guarantee of good faith,
I have no assurance whatever that 1
shall ever see him again.
"To be sure, this reckless expendi
ture of salary is not an orery-day oc
currence, but it happens often enough
to make me waudor how people can
be so cureless. I can readily under
stand the motive, but I eaunot appre
ciate it. The explanation, of course,
is that the people like my rooms well
enough te taka soma precaution
uuint losing the option en them, in
(vise tliay should tind nothing more
desirable, but that upon looking farth
er they see something that suits tliem
better, anil they would rather sacrifice
the deposit fund than decide in my
favor. Now mul then some one par
ticularly audacious comes hack and
asks me to refund the money, but gen
erally sre content to let well enough
alone. All told, my unclaimed deposit
money amounts to about Sol) a year,
which is uot a bad return from the
little time invested in showing the
rooms."—New York Times.
Several Japanese women barbers are
employed in Honolulu.
Ail Awakening in the South.
ONE of the most forcible evi
dences of the prosperity of
the South, and an assurance
that that portion of the conn
try has been brought to a realizing
sense of some of its needs, is the en
thusiasm manifested over iho subject
of improved highways. It will he
hard to And one point on which the
South lias recently experienced a
greater awakening. East June, when
the good roads train under the initia
tive of tho Illinois Central Railroad
made a trip, starting at New Orleans
as the southern end of the line, it left
behind it a trail of leagues and asso
ciations, State and local, devoted to
improving tho highways of half a
dozen States. Tho recent convention
nt Buffalo, which attracted delegates
from all over tho Union, and even
across the Atlantic, had an equally
good result, although in a different
way. Now. comes the announcement
that tho Southern Railway Company
lias inaugurated a great movement in
Its desire to improve the road sys
tems converging to lis tracks. The
company is to run a good roads spe
cial, fully equipped, along its lines,
stopping at various points to build a
half mile or a milo of good road, and
show the people what can he done
and how to do It.
This initiative should receive cordial
co-operation. Itivers, the natural, and
railroads, the artificial, highways, are
of little use if the people only a short
distance away from their lines are un
able to reach them. In many ways
the people of the South have been held
hack for want of decent transportation
facilities by the ordinary highway.
In the rulc3 governing tho new rural
mail delivery system one of the re
quirements is the ability to travel
twenty-Ave miles a day, and the im
possibility of doing this lias in many
eases delayed the extension of the sys
tem. This is equally true of business
opportunities of all kinds, more espe
cially the disposing of produce on a
rising market. It has been estimated
by a man fully acquainted with mar
ket conditions in the South and South
west that opportunities for more than
a million dollars increase in proAts
have been lost to farmers in the last
two years through inability to get to
market quickly at a critical time.
And this not alone of the South and
the Southwest. Eight here in New
York State farmers have been kept
away from proiltoble markets by roads
which were hogs or quagmires instead
of paths At for a man to ride over or '
a liorse to travel in. But New York
hns seen the light, anil to-day the im
provement of the highways is a ques
tion which is seldom allowed to drop
out of sight. It is an omen of good
for the Southland that the people are
demanding of their 'legislators more
and more attention to the 'Highways,
and that the cold business part of tho
proposition is seen in its right light.
Road building, although of -national
importance, is .a iocal work, and must
he carried on under local conditions.
It is in this regard that the good roads
trains are doing well. They strike all
sorts of soil and all kinds of difficul
ties, and show tho people how to im
prove their travel facilities at tho least
possible expense, In tiie shortest possi
ble time and with the smallest amount
of trouble.
That the railroads have an eye to
the main cbauec in developing the
lands along their lines in no way de
tracts from tiio ultimate benefit of
their work to the farmer in the imme
diate neighborhood, as well as to tlio
dweller in the city which the farmer
wishes to reach with what iie has to
Bell.—New York Tribune.
Good Roods Save Money.
One of the most important and en
couraging cf the many conferences
held at the Pan-American Exposition
"was tho good roads congress. The
questions of mutual concern which
brought together delegates from thir
ty-nine of the States, and from -Mex
ico and Canada, is one upon which
much has been spoken and written,
and had the congress merely met to
continue the advocacy of improved
roads it would have been of little note.
The delegates, however, were not
limited to the discussion of what
ought to be done; they were able to
compare notes upon what lias been
done. '
Particularly gratifying reports eiuno i
from the South, where highway im- I
provemeut lias been needed greatly.
There was a general agreement among
representatives of all parts of the
country that the rise of public interest
in good loads was steady and promis
ing, and there was a general belief
that much progress would be made in
the next few years.
Maryland has not overlooked this
question. State aid has he a enlisted
in the worthy cause of road improve
ment, and public sentiment will proba
bly he found in sympathy with a de
termination to keep up with sister
States lit this Important work.
Moreover, good roads, aside from
convenience, are of great money value
to any community. Business is aided,
as well as comfort or pleasure. The
price of hauling produce over a had
road far exceeds the cost of keeping
the same highway la good repair.—
Baltimore Herald.
A Snlmtitntx.
Money may not buy happiness, but
it is often capable of purchasing an
acceptable substitute.—Chicago News.
*