FREEUND TRIBUNE. ESTABLISHED 1888. PUBLISHED EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY, BT THE TRIBUNE PRINTING COMPANY, Limitefl OFFICE; MAIN STREET ABOVI CENTRE, LONG DISTANCE TELEPHONE. SUBSCRIPTION RATES FREELAND.—The TRIBUNE is delivered by oarricrs to subscribers in Froolandatthe rata of l-Mi cents per month, payable every two months, or $1.50 a year, payable in advance- The TRIBUNE may bo ordered direct form th carriers or from ttao office. Complaints of Irregular or tardy delivery service will re. oeive prompt attention. BY MAIL —The TRIBUNE is sent to out-of town subscribers for $1.60 a year, payable in advance; pro rata terms for shorter periods. The date when the subscription expires is on the address label of each paper. Prompt re newals mast be made at the expiration, other wise the subscription will be discontinued. Entered at the Postoffloe at Fresland. as Second-Cl&sr Matter, Make all money orders, checks, eto. ,payablt to the Tribune J'rinting Company, Limited. MILITARY CAMP IN SIBERIA. Bow the Russians Pitch Their Tents— Sturdy and Happy Men. On the Sunday morning when all the church bells were clanging and good Blagovestchensk folks were hastening, armed with prayer books, to worship, I took a solitary walk along the Amui side. On the way I passed through the camp where are stationed some 3,000 soldiers. It was well situated near a wood. The officers' quarters were of Umber, painted white, and there were scraggy gardens in front. There were great long sheds for the troops, but most of the men were under canvas. Their tents were pitched on quite a different plan to that adopted by Brit ish troops. There was first built up A square of sods, not unlike a sports man's shelter you see on the moors at home, with an entrance on one side. On the top of this was fixed the tent, which was really a sort of square can vas lid which would throw the rain beyond the bank. In each were six beds and there was plenty of room to stand up. At every point was a sol dier on guard, bugles were continu ously sounding, officers and their or derlies were galloping about. "For eigner" was, of course, stamped all over me, and, although I received many curious glances, I strolled where I pleased, with never a word of hind rance. These Russian white-bloused Tom mies were Just as "larky" as their red jacketed friends at Aldershot, says a correspondent of the London News. In one or two places men were put out on parade, but most of them were spend ing their Sunday as they pleased. From some of the tents came the bleat of ac cordions, and young fellows were laughing and singing. Then I came across a group having wrestling matches; next some young fellows were testing their Jumping powers; then groups squatted In the shade of the trees smoking and gossiping. I must say that they were all sturdy, well set and healthy men, clean and neat, and quite happy. THE END OF THE OLD B^AU. Contemptible Vanity Explatod In De clining Years of Want. Beau Nash, like Beau Fielding and Beau Brummel, was to expiate his con temptible vanity in an old age of ob scurity, want and misery. As he grew old, ho grew insolent and seemed in sensible to the pain he gave to others by his coarse repartees. He was no longer the gay, thoughtless, Idly indus trious creature he once was. The even ing of his life grew cloudy, nothing but poverty lay in the prospect before him. Abandoned by the great, whom he had so long served, he was obliged to fly to those of humbler stations for protec tion, and began to need that charity which he had never refused to any, and to learn that a life of gayety finds an inevitable end in misery and re gret. It was said that Mr. Quin, the actor, tried to supplant him as Master of the Ceremonies, which Nash be lieved, and he grew ruder and testier. There is evidenco that there was ground for this suspicion in letters of Quin written from Bath, In which he says, "Old Beaux Knash had mead himself so disagreeable to all the com pany," says the Nineteenth Century. A new generation sprung up to which Nash was a stranger; his splendor gradually waned. Neglect filled him with bitterness, and he lost thereby the remainder of his popularity. His Income now became very precarious, so that the corporation voted him ar allowance of ten guineas to be paid him on the first Monday in each month. He long occupied a house known as Garrick's Head, subsequently occupied by Mr 3. Delaney, but he died in a smaller one near by. NEARER THE SUN NOW. But the Tilt of Its Axis Gives Leca Heat. Astronomically, the earth is nearest the sun these days, but the tilt of its axis gives us but a scant share of his light and heat. Still, though winter is only begun, In a weather sense, it is always pleasant to remember that during the coming week not only do wo swing around the earth and home as a focus, with our eyes set on the happier times ahead, but that with the Winter solstice passed we are once more on the way to the sunnier hours and blither skies. The winds may be bleak and the days short, but the steady pulse toward spring cannot be stopped. HAS THE WORLD CONE WRONG? Has the world gone wrong? 1 hear a Hae the world gone wrong? I hear the child sounds Who is singing a happy song, > That men who are busy make. And across the way an anvil rings, 1 hear the engines puff away, And yonder a maiden hurries along And, strong in body, I go to take With a look that only gladness brings. The little part that I have to pla^r. Has the world gone wrong? I see the Has the world gone wrong? There's many gleam a man, Of love in a lover's eyes, When his work is done to-night, And yonder upon the wooden gate, Who will hurry away from care to Where lovers nave gazed at the starry see skies, Glnd faces glow where hearts are light— A sparrow cheeps to its little mate. Oh, the world is good to them ana me. —Chicago Record-Herald. 1-r OM CL.YFLIN was sixteen .1 years old -when his family moved from Chicago to San Diego, Cal. His father, a consumptive, was no longer able to work. Ills mother, a tiny, cheerful, busy woman, with three small chil dren besides Tom, had her hands full with nursing her husband, making, mending, cooking and caring for the family. They had been in their new home for three mouths, living away their small capital, and with no pros pect of earning a dollar. The boom was over. The town was overrun with Easterners, men and women in frail health, willing to work for small pay at anything that would yield them sus tenance. And so Tom, the hope of his courageous little mother, had tried everything and failed to get work. It was then that he hit upon the Idea of becoming n fisherman. For a week before he broached the subject at home he had patrolled the shore from Point Loma to the Coronando beach in search of a boat. He had only sls, and of the scores of small craft that could be bought at all there was but one within his means. A leaky lugger, with frayed old sails and an Impossi ble Spanish name, stinking of fish and with a dirty black hull, lay moored off the Portuguese village on the north shore of the bay, and thither day after day poor Tom trudged, big with his se cret. One Saturday night he startled the family with: "Well, people, I'm a sea captain at last and no joke. Mother, behold your son, Captain Thomas Claflln, of the good ship 'Little Mother.' " The little woman's blue eyes were filled with tears when her boy showed them the bill of sale to the effect that he had bought a vessel for $12.50, and TROLLING FOR LARGE FISH. thus, like a true-blue Chicagoan, risked his all in the only business venture in sight. "I named her for you, mother, and you must christen hur aud take a sail In her to-morrow." With a basket of luncheon and a pail and shovel for clams, the Clafiiu fam ily, with Tom proudly leading the way, Went down to the beach in the morn ing. Sure enough, there lay the "Lit tle Mother," swinging gracefully at her moorings, no longer dingy and black, but raidiant iu a coat of fresh white paint, her sails mended aud ship shape, the Stars and Stripes flutterlug from her peak and her name in hold blue letters across her bows. Tom's little brother and sisters dnneed with delight, new light came into his fath er's eyes, and as for "Little Mother," the patron saint of that first voyage, she laughed and cried by turns as she sat in the stern of the boat and watched Tom, the captain, and little Charley, the "first mate," both bub bling over with excitement and nnuti 'al terms, tugging at ropes, running about like regular jack-tars aud mak ing all ready "to put to sea," as Tom said. As the boat, driven by n eaol sou'east breeze, stood out across the bay for the Loma lighthouse, Tom showed them all the new hand-pump he had rigged Into bis little "ship." he explained the centreboard, pointed out the imaginary beauties rnd qualities of the "Tittle Mother," boasted of what he meant to accomplish as a professional fisher man, and made everybody so happy that it seemed 110 time at all till the sun was dipping into the sea and the first cruise of the "Little Mother" was over. And the boy made good money with his modest venturß He would rise with the sun each morning, and with his dinner pail and coarse tackle make for the boat that had become to him both sweetheart and provider. His greatest difficulty was his need of an assistant, and many was the barracu da and giant Jewfisli that escaped him in his lonely, all-day cruises up and down that matchless summer sea. Sometimes he would induce some lazy wharf Idler to accompany him, some times old Pedro, the retired Portu guese from whom he had bought the boat would hall him as he stood out to sea and help him with the work. Sometimes, when the sea was like a floor of gleaming onyx, his father would sit in the stern sheets, and little Charley would "man the jib" or troll a line for small fish, but alone or with "a crew" Tom never failed to bring home at night enough fish so that his earnings at the end of the week were almost enough to pay the running ex penses of the frugal little family. It was In the end of August that the Monterey, the monster coast defense monitor, returned from her first cruise. She had been in South American waters for four months, and the crew got Its first shore leave on American soil at San Diego. The big war vessel was thrown open to visitors one Sun day morning, and all that day Torn Cliflin carried sightseers from the Santa Fe pier to the Monterey. Good seaman that he was, he was fascin ated with the dazzling spotlessness of, the monitor, and every night tyhllc she lay in port Tom came aboard to revel in the ship-talk and yarns of officers and men. He soon knew all the offi cers by name, and had formed a close friendship with a seaman named Han sen, who find lived in Chicago and was hail fellow with every man in the crew. Hansen was killed the night before the Monterey sailed for 'Frisco. He had gone ashore with a guard to ar rest a half-breed Mexican stoker who had overstayed his leave. The guard separated to scour the town for the deserter, and Hansen, alone, had the misfortune to corner him In a Chinese dive at the lower cud of town. A knife in the dark as he was dragging his prisoner through an alleyway, a panic of chattering Chinamen, who quenched their lamps and bolted their doors, and poor Hansen was left dying in the mire. It is but four miles to the Mexican border from San Diego, and thither, it was supposed, the murderer had fled. The Mayor of San Diego offered S2OO reward for the capture of Hansen's slayer, the little police force was thrown in a fever of activity, the Mon terey delayed her sailing for three days and then the crime began to be for gotten. Tom sailed out to the fishing grounds every morning with whomever he could pick up. It was nearly a month after the monitor had gone when a lone fisherman sitting at the end of the jetties that reach from the crescent end of Coronado Island hailed him. Young Claflln stood in for the landing and invited the stran ger aboard. lie wanted something to eat, and the boy, with a sudden flut ter iu his heart, opened his pail and bade the stranger make himself com fortable. They fished all that dn7 with rare luck, and at sundown the "Little Mother" was deep with her cargo of barracuda. Once under the lee of Point Loma on the homeward trip the breeze died out, and the boat went drifting with the tide. The southern reaches of the entrance to Pan Diego harbor are covered with sandbars and shallows that extend two miles along the Inner side of Coronado. The tide ran out while "Little Moth er" was drifting about these bars, and when darkness fell site went hard aground. A dense fog came with the night. The channel buoys disappeared. The •-detailt lights of the city were blurred and quenched In the thick haze, and by the time flood tide came again it was impossible to steer the boat with certainty or safety. "We'd better anchor till the fog lifts," said Tom, wondering what his mother would think if he stayed out all night. His comrade sullenly agreed, and so they dropped anchor, and lay rocking in the calm cloud of mist for hours. The stranger fell asleep in the bottom of the boat, but Tom, big-eyed now, his heart heating with wild excite ment, sat In the bow watching. It must have been near midnight when he crept down from the hull and un shipped the little pump. The tide was going out again, and as he dropped the dismantled apparatus into the sea he heard the water gurgling Into the hold. The stranger was yet sleeping when Tom slipped over the rail, breast high In the water and headed for shore. It was 2 in the morning when he reached the police station In San Diego. He was bareheaded and wet, liis bedraggled shirt and trousers were clustered with burrs and thorns, his feet were bleeding and he could hardly speak the words: "Captain, I've got the Mexican that killed Hansen." It was daylight when they surround ed the scuttled lugger. The Mexican was awake, clinging to the half sub merged mainmast. The rickety boat, loaded with fish and bumped by the now running seas, was going to pieces plank by plank. Tom didn't waste a thought over the captured murderer after he saw the police lay hands on him, but he shed a weak, unwilling tear over the wreck of the "Little Mother." "Why did you wreck your boat, Tom?" asked his' mother that day while the story of her boy's heroism made him the talk of the town. "Well, mammy," he said, "I was afraid the Mexican'd get away to sea. I wanted him, you know, but what I wanted most was that two hundred dollars reward. I can buy a new boat for half the money."—John 11. Raf tery, in the Chicago Record-Herald. PROPERTIES OF THE MADSTONE. CowpunchcrH of the Went Place Great Faith In the Absorbent. The madstone is supposed to bo taken from the stomach of a white deer. It is about the size of an Eng lish walnut, and slightly porous. When a person is bitten by on animal af flicted with rabies the stone is placed on the bite. It immediately sticks, sometimes for half an hour. One of the greatest fears of the cowpuncher is of being bitten by a skunk. In the cattle country, when the puncher is on the range and must sleep out of doors of nights, he hardly ever lies down on the ground without thinking of this danger. When he Is bitten It Is almost always in the face. Nine times out of ten hydrophobia symptoms develop. In most cases he is anywhere from twenty to fifty miles from a doctor, and search is made among the ranchers for a mad stone. The cowpuncher is simple in his faiths, and he clings to this one. And, indeed, many marvelous tales are told of the success of this some what vague healer. The writer knows of one remark able case. A man in a New Mexico cattle town was bitten in the arm by a mad dog. The nearest doctor gave his aid, but he was not able to de crease the swelling. A madstone was sent for from a distance and applied to the bite. The curative properties of the stone lie in its power of ab sorption. It adhered at once to this man's arm. Running up the elbow was a thin blue streak, tracing the course of the poison. As the stone stuck this streak gradually decreased, and was not to be seen when the in animate little doctor fell off, after thirty minutes' adhesion. The stone was put in water, and a blue film im mediately formed on the surface. The man got well. The value of a madstone varies with its owner. The stone just told of was held at SSOO. Telegraph** Through Jungle*. Reports of pushing forward of the transcontinental South Africnn tele graph line reach civilization from time to time, by the hardships suffered Ivy the linemen and the physical diffi culties to be surmounted are rarely described. The line lias now been carried up to the southern shore of Lake Tangauyka. During the last couple of hundred miles the road was impassable for vehicles ahd all the supplies aud material had to be trans ported by carriers. One section of the line passes through a swamp in which the vegetation grows to such a height during the wet season as to top the wire and cause troublesome leakage. The natives cannot be in duced to go in during the season and cut down the weeds owing to the swarm of crocodiles. In another sec tion the elephants have caused sev eral interruptions by breaking off the poles. In some of the forests through which the line passes trees are met measuring over 100 feet in circumfer ence. Some of the ravines are im passible even to the linemen during the rainy season owing to the paths being under water and the rank growth of vegetation. IXonora For the Young. The new Chief Justice of Sierra Leone, Mr. P. C. Smyly, is the young est man holding such a position in the colonial service. He is only thirty-five, and has been on the west coast for the past six years and found the climate to agree with him. The new Chief Justice took his LL. D. degree In Dub lin University ten years ago, and bis great talents early marked him out for rapid advancement. Londtn Chroni cle. USE OF THE PIN. The Very Important Part It Plays in a Woman's Life. A great deal ot scorn is heaped upon the woman, who, as the saying goes, is "pinned together." She is put down as untidy and lazy and generally shift less. The scornful critics do not stop to consider that the most artistic French dresses and hats are seldom "well made;" that graceful and lovely as they are, the mere stiteliery is very light and unreliable, apt to give way at any moment. French hoolts and eyes, frills and bows, are all apt to come off after one sewing. Mere sew ing is not the artistic thing for which one pays exorbitant prices. Any little convent girl can sew well. The great couturiere charges for deft touches, in spired adjustments, graceful drapery, beauty of outline. Clothes should be put on with art as well as with skill. There is more affinity in the cunning fold placed with the aid of a pin than there is in rows of mere strong stiteli ery. Personality cannot be expressed In a frock that any other woman could duplicate. It must have special touches of its own, and it cannot have these If the woman who wears it despises the use of the pin. Many women spend large sums on their clothes and never seem on good terms with them. Their frcek3 are very well made—too well made to have any subtlety or Illusion. Every fold is in place. Every frill is secured by a stiling,thread. Everything is so strong ly sewed that no mystery can lurk in a fold, and no expression lie in the curves or lines of a skirt. When you have once seen a toilet, there it ends; the second time you are deadly tired of it, and finally It gets on your nerves. How you long to see a little difference In the bodice, a curve In the sleeve that you had not noticed before! But all this would mean imagination or pins'. Consequently the notion of a pin is abhorrent; it is untidy; the dressmaker has not done licr work properly; she lias been paid for something for which she has not given full value. With the use of the pin we get vari ety, while in the solidity of thread and needle it is hardly ever to be found. Women should recollect that, in the sordid actuality of dress there Is neither art nor beauty. Style is in finitely more difficult to procure than fashion—one Is a triumph of the mind, the other is always procurable with gold. No other attribute is so neces sary to those who wish to be well dressed as good style, but it is general ly inherent and only to be found In the woman who possesses imagination, and can therefore rise above mediocrity. You can call It chic if you like, but neither stylo nor chic can be obtained In present day dressing without the aid of the despised pin. The woman who says she never uses a pin is hopeless; she might as well say she docs not wear corsets. When you linve looked long and crit ically at such a woman, you will real ize that nothing matters; her clothes cover licr, and that is all one can say. Her dressmaker may be more or less of a genius, and will stitch the draper ies so that they suit licr fairly well; the stuff may be pretty and the style unobjectionable—what there is of it; it only lies with the dressmaker, and she has had to firmly stitch her best aspirations. Consequently there is a certain suggestiveness of heavy baked pudding throughout—New York Com mercial Advertiser. How to Hold Up the Skirt. Few women have the least idea how to hold up their skirts, and as fashion demands long skirts on some occasions It is most disastrous, not only for the skirts, but for the appearance of the wearers. A woman who can manage her skirts gracefully and easily has a decided advantage over her less gainly sister, and the onlooker knows that the ugly backs of the large majority of woman are due to the wuy in which they hold their skirts. Skirts for dressy wear are warn resting on the ground, both in front, nt the sides, and with a long train behind, and they promise to be in vogue f to 14 hours. At twelve mouths, 13 to 14 hours. After tills a child should sleep as long as possible—not less than 11 or 12 hours at night, and retain the cus tom of a midday sleep for at least two more years. All children require a great deal of sleep to make up for the wear and tear of the day. Until they are done growing, a regular ten- hour night should be the rule. J bE EW EST /A French suede gloves in the new shades are attached with rhinestoncs or cameo buttons. Small sweaters for the little ones come in blue with red trimmings and brass buttons down the front. Slate colored sued® gloves which can be worn with gowns of almost any ■color have as the latest finish gun metal buttons Slips of guyly flowered silks over gowns of black net ore embellished . with small velvet crescents, combined ■ with knots and loops of ribbons. An original gown for a bridesmaid is of ivory white corduroy, which is worn with a hat of black Irisn lace adorned with several sweeping plumes. Young girls' evening frocks are made of Pompadour striped silks or polka dotted crepe de Chine, trimmed at the foot with clusters of tiny ruffles all velvet bordered. The newest fancy buckles are of gold or gilt metal, with a background of black satin ribbon. It depends upon the quality of the metal whether real or imitation jewels are used. Black velvet buttons are frequently used as an effective finish to full ruches or velvet bordered ruffles. Other late designs in buttons are cov ered with lace or embroidered silk. A good idea in handkerchief cases is in those made of linen handkerchiefs, with embroidered edges, the four cor ners turned over at the top, and hand- L 1 painted with flowers, the Inside with 1 a sillc quilted lining, and the top I fastened With ribbons. I