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"GO TO THE ANT." And Learn of llcr How to Be an Ideal Socialist. "It now being past noon and Formi ca's thoughts turning to refreshments, she hied herself to the outskirts of the nest, where the family cows were pas tured. These cows, or aphides, were feeding on the leaves of the daisy, Into which they plunge their proboscldes and suck all day long, filling their bodies with pleasant juices. Our ant came up behind an aphis and stroked it gently with her antennae, when the little creature gave out a drop of her sweet liquid, which Formica sucked into her own crop. There were thou sands of these aphides pasturing on the leaves and thousands of ants milk ing them. Most of the ants took more of the juice into their crops than they needed; and, on the way back to work, gave up a part of it to friends whom they met going to the cows, thus sav ing the others' time and enabling them to resume their occupation more quick ly. Tho ants were making the most of the aphis juice during the summer days, knowing that the supply would fall off later when the aphides laid their eggs. (Note here the superior mental equipoise of the ant, which nei ther betrays surprise nor writes to the newspapers when her cows begin to lay eggs.) These eggs the ants would store over winter, tending them with the utmost care until spring, when the young aphides are brought out and placed on the shoots of the daisy to mature and provide food again during the hot weather. This far-sightedness Is unexampled in the animal kingdom. Other insects and animals put away stores for the winter, to be sure, but the ant is the only one of them that breeds it 3 own food supply. Having taken her fill of the sweet juice on this particular day, Formica noticed that the aphis which she had been milking was in a position on the leaf which might expose it to observation of some aphidivorous insect. She immediately descended to the ground, when she obtained a mouthful of earth, and, again climbing up the daisy stalk, built a tiny shed over the cow, going hack and forth several times to bring up sufficient material."—Frank Marshall White in Pearson's. HE KNEW HIS 3F.ES. Worked on u Rco Ranch lind Learned to DlstluguUli Them. "Did you ever hear of a man who could recognize a bee from the othor members of its swarm?" asked Col. J. 13. Showalter while talking to a group of horsemen in the Hoffman house lob by a few evenings ago. "Oh, you needn't give mo the laugh; it's so. I've done it. "Of course it isn't every one who can do it —just as there are few artists that can catch the expression of a horse and put it on canvas. It's on the same principle that some shepherds know every sheep in a flock of two or throe thousand. "When I was a young man I went west from Kentucky to locate. I was charmed with the beauty of southern California and settled for a year or two ut San Diego. I found that I would starve there if I tried to practice law, so I turned to almost the only thing at which one could make a living then in that section, and went on a bee ranch. "There you go again! Because you never heard of anything hut horses you Imagine a hoe ranch doesn't exist. Well, it does. That whole section is practically covered with a white sage, the bloom of which makes perhaps the best honey in the world. Consequent ly the country has been divided into great bee ranches and the production of honey became quite an industry. "Some of the best puro white honey on the New York market to-day," said Col. Showalter, according to the New York Times, "comes from San Diego. In the course of the development of the industry it was found that the black bee, from near the River Po, in Italy, was the best suited for their pur pose. Well, I worked for about a year on a bee ranch And became so familiar with the bees that I learned to distin guish them from each other." Kvncemitiv AOallc Turkey. Asiatic Turkey is to be rescued from semi-barbarism by the construction ol 5140,000,000 worth of railroads, one o f which will run through Euphrates val ley from end to end. Tho new roads •will follow the old caravan routes, and they will touch all the principal cities and towns of Bible land. FALLEN INTO ELD. I sit before my window And watch the sullen rain; The hand of age is on me, And weakness grows to pain, Mv sons are men, far from me; rheir father —he is dead; I own the roof above me, I do not lack for bread. }}9oooio080ioocoe9io>oiooioioo>o*oeei| i A DOG OF RUDDY COVE. | © j| Ey Norman Duncan. HE was a Newfoundland dog, bom of reputable parents at Back Arm and decently bred & in Ruddy Cove, which is on the northeast coast. He had black hair, short, straight and wiry,—the curly-haired breed has failed ou the island,—and broad, ample shoulders, which his forbears had transmitted to him from generations of hauling wood. Ho was heavy, awkward and ugly, resembling somewhat a great draft horse. But he pulled with a will, fended l'or himself, and within tho knowledge of men had never stolen a fish; so he had a high place in the hearts of all the people of tho Cove, and a safe one in their estimation. "Skipper! Skipper! Hero, by!" The ringing call, in tho voice of young Billy Topsail, his master, a iisherman's son, never failed to bring tbe dog from the kitchen with an eager rush, when the snow lay deep on the rocks and all the paths of the wilderness were ready for the sled. He stood stock-still for the harness, and at the first "Hi, b'y! Geo up, there!" he bounded away with a wagging tail and a glad hark. It was as if nothing pleased him so much on a frosty morning as the prospect of a hard day's work. If the call came in summer-time when the Skipper was dozing in the cool shadow of a flake,—a platform of houghs for drying fish,—he seramled to his feet, took his clog In his mouth and ran, all a-qulver for what might come, to where young Billy waited. (In Newfoundland the law requires that all dogs shall be clogged as a precaution against their killing sheep and goats which run wild. Tho clog is in the form of a billet of wood, weighing at least seven and a half jiouuds, and tied to the dog's neck.) If the clog were taken off,—as It was almost sure to be,—it meant sport in the water. Then the Skipper would paw the ground and whine until the stick was flung out for him. But best of all he loved to dive for stones. At the peep of many a day, too, he went out in the punt to the fishing grounds with Billy Topsail, and there kept the lad good company all the day long. It was because he sat on the little cuddy in the bow, as if keeping a lookout ahead, that he was called the Skipper. "Sure, 'tis a clever dog, that!" was Billy's bpast. "Ho would save life— that dog would!" This was proved beyond doubt when little Isaiah Tommy Goodman toddled over the wharfhead, where he had been playing with a squid. Isaiah Tommy was four years old, and would sure ly have been drowned had not the Skip per strolled down the wharf just at that moment. Tho Skipper was obedient to the Instinct of all Newfoundland dogs to drag the sons of men from the water. He plunged i_ and caught Isaiah Tom my by the collar of his pinafore. Still following his instinct, he kept the child's head above water with power ful strokes of his foro paws while he towed him to shore. Then the outcry which Isaiah Tommy immediately set up brought his mother to complete the rescue. For this deed the Skipper was petted a day and a half, and fed with fried caplin and salt pork, to his evident gratification. No doubt ho was per suaded that he had acted worthily. However that ho, he continued In merry moods, in affectionate behavior, in honesty—although the tisli were ven then drying on the flakes, all ex posed, and he carried his clog like a hero. "Skipper," Billy Topsail would ejac ulate, "you do be a clever dog!" One day in the fall of the yeur, when high winds spring suddenly from the land, Billy Topsail was fishing from the punt, tho Never Give Up, over the shadows of Molly's Head. It was "fish weather," as the Ruddy Cove men say—gray, cold and misty. /The harbor entrance lay two miles to the southwest. The bluffs which marked it were hardly discernible, l'or the mist hung thick off the shore. Four punts and a skiff were bobbing half a mile farther out to sea, their crews fishing with hook and lino over the side. Thicker weather threatened, and the day was near spent. " 'Tis time to he oil home, b'y," said Ellly to the dog. "'Tis getting thick in tho sou'west." The Skipper stretched himself and wagged his tall. 110 had no word to say, but Billy, who, like all fishermen in remote places, had formed the habit of talking to himself, supplied the answer. " 'Tis that, Billy, b'y," said he. "The punt's as much as one hand can man age in a fair wind. An' 'tis a dead beat to the harbor now." Then Billy said a word for himself. "We'll put In for ballast. The punt's too light for a gale." He sculled the punt to the little cove by the Head, and there loaded her wltli rocks. Her sails, mainsail and Bat O the lonely morning! And O the dreary night! All, life itself should follow When love and hope take flighU No happy days await me, No joy that all must crave; The only path before me Ends In an open grave. —Ninette M. Lowater, in New York Sun. tiny Jib were spread, and she was headed far Grassy Island, on the first leg of her beat into the wind. By this time the other two punts were under way, and the sails of the skiff were fluttering as her crew prepared to beat homo for the night. The Never Give Up was ahead of the fleet, and held her lead in such fine fashion as made Billy Topsail's heart swell with pride. The wind had gained in force. It was sweeping down from the hills in gusts. Now it fell to a breeze, and again it came swiftly with angry strength. Nor could its advance be perceived, for the sea was choppy and the bluffs shielded the Inshore waters. "We'll fetch the harbor on the next tack," Billy muttered to the Skipper, who was whining in the bow. He put tile steering oar hard alee to bring the punt about. A gust caught the sails. Tb boat heeled before It, and ber gunwale was under water before Billy could make a move to save her. The wind forced her down, pressing heavily upon tne canvas. Her ballast shifted and she toppled over. Boy and dog were thrown into the sea—the one aft, the other forward. Billy dived deep to escape entangle ment with the rigging ol' the boat. He had long ago learned the lesson that presence of mind wins half the tight in perilous emergencies. The coward miserably perishes, where the brave man survives. With his courage leaping to meet his predicament, he struck out for windward und rose to the surface. He looked about for the punt. She had been heavily weighted with bal last and he feared for h'T. What was he to do if she had been too heavily weighted? Even as ho looked she sank. She had righted under water; the tip of the mast was the last he suw of her. The sea—eold, fretful, vast—lay all about him. The coast was half a mile to windward; the punts, out to sea, were laboriously beating toward him, and could make no greater speed. He had to choose between the punt and the rocks. A whine—with a strange note in It attracted his attention. The big dog had caught sight of him, and was heat ing the water in a frantic effort to approach quickly. But the dog had never whined like that before. "Hi, Skipper!" Billy called. "Steady, b'y! Steady!" Billy took off his boots as fast as he could. The dog was coming nearer, still whining strangely and madly paw ing tho water. Billy was mystified. What possessed the dog? It was' as if he had been seized with a fit of ter ror. Was he afraid or drowning? His eyes were fairly flaring. Such a light had never been in them before. In the instant he hnd for speculation the hoy lifted himself high in the water and looked intently into the dog's eyes. It was terror he saw in them; there could bo no doubt about that, he thought. The dog was afraid for his life. At once Billy was filled with dread. He could not crush the feeling down. Afraid of the Skipper, —the old, affectionate Skipper—his own dog, which ho had reared from a pup py! It was absurd. But he was afraid, nevertheless—desperately afraid. "Buck, b'y!" ho cried. "Get back, Billy was a strong swimmer. He had learned to swim where the water is cold—cold, often, as the Icebergs stranded in the harbor can make it. The water was bitter cold now, but lie did not fear it, nor did he doubt that he could accomplish the loug swim which lay before him. It was the un accountable failure of the dog which disturbed him—his failure iu obedience, which could not be explained. The dog was now within three yards, and excited past all reason. "Back, sir!" Billy screamed. "Get back with you!" The dog was not deterred by the command. He did not so much as hes itate. Billy raised his hand as if to strike him—a threatening gesture which had sent the Skipper home with his tail between his legs many a time. But it had no effect now. "Get back!" Billy screamed again. It was plain that tlio dog was not to te bidden. Billy threw hiutself on his back, supported himself with hi. hands and kicked at the dog with ills feet. The Skipper was blinded by the splash ing. He whined and held back. Then blindly he cnnie again. Billy moved slcwly from him, head foremost, still churning the water with his feet. But swimming thus, he was no match for the dog. With his bead thrown back to escape the blows, the Skipper forged after him. He was struck lu the jaws, in the throat and again in the jaws. But he pawed on, taking every blow without complaint and gaining inch by inch. Scon he was so close tlint the lad could 110 longer move his feet freely. Then the dog chanced to catch one foot with his paw. and forced It under. Billy could not beat him off. No longer opposed, tlio dog crept up—paw over paw, forcing the IKJF'H body lower and ,'nwer. His object was clear to Billy. The Skipper, fren zied by terror, the boy thought, would try to save himself by climbing on his shoulders. "Skipper!" he cried, "you'll drown me! Get back!" The futility of attempting to com mand obedience from a crazy dog struck Billy Topsail with force. He must act otherwise, and that quickly, if he were to escape. There seemed tp be but one thing to do. He took a long breath and lot himself sink down—down—as deep as he dared. Down—down—until he retained breath sufficient but to strike to the right and rise again. The dog—as it was made known later —rose as high as he could force him self, and looked about in every direc tion, with his mouth open and his ears rigidly cocked. He gave two short barks, like sobs, and a long, mournful whine. Then, as if acting upon sudden thought, he dived. For a moment nothing was to be seen of either boy or dog. There was nothing but a choppy sea in that place. Men who were watching thought that both hnd followed the Never Give Bp to the bottom. In the momentary respite under water Billy perceived that his situa tion was desperate. He would rise, he was sure, but only to renew the struggle. How long he could keep the I dog off he could not tell. Until the punts came down to his aid? He thought not. He enrne to the surface prepared to dive again. But the Skipper had dis appeared. An ejaculation of thanks giving was yet on the boy's lips, when tho dog's black head rose and moved swiftly toward him. Billy had a start of ten yards—or something more. He turned on his side and set off at top speed. There was no better swim mer among the lads of the harbor. Was he a match for a powerful Newfound land dog? It was soou evident that he wa3 not. The Skipper gained rapidly. Billy felt a paw strike his foot. He put more force into his strokes. Next the paw struck the calf of his leg. The dog was now upon him—pawing his back. Billy could not sustain the weight. To escape, that he might take up the fight in another way, he dived again. The dog was waiting when Billy came up—wnlting eagerly, ou the alert to continue the chase. "Skipper, old fellow—good old dog!" Billy called In a soothing voice. "Steady, sir! Down, sir—back!" The dog was not to be deceived, nc came, by turns whining and gnsping. He was uiore excited, more determined, than ever. Billy waited for him. The fight was to be face to face. The boy had determined to keep him off with his hands until strength failed—to drown him If he could. All love for the dog had gone out of his heart The weeks of close und merry com panionship, of rnxups and rumbles and sport were forgotten. Billy was fighting for life. So h waited with out pity, hoping only that his strength might last until he had conquered. When the dog was within reach Billy struck him In the face. A snurl and an angry snap was the result Itage seemed suddenly to possess the dog. He held back for a moment, growling fiercely, and then attacked with a rush. Billy fought as best be could, trying to catch his enemy by the neck and to force his head beneath the waves. The effort was vain; the dog eluded his grasp and renewed the attack. In another - moment he had laid his heavy paws on the boy's shoulders. The weight was too much for Billy. Down he went, freed himself, and struggled to the surface, gasping for breath. It appeared to him now that lie had but a moment to live. lie felt ilia self-possession going from him— and at that moment his ears caught the sound of a voice. "Put your arm " The voice seemed to come from far away. Before the sentence was com pleted tiio dog's paws were again on Billy's shoulders and the water stopped the hoy's hearing. What were they calling to him? The thought that some helping hand was near Inspired him. With this new courage to uid, he dived for tho third time. The voice wag nearer—clearer—when he came up, and he heard every word. "Put your arm around his neck!" one man cried. "Catch him by the scruff of the neck!" cried another. Billy's self-possession returned. He would follow this direction. The Skip per swam anxiously to him. It may be that he woudored what this new at titude meant. It may be that he hoped reason had returned to the boy—that at last he would allow himself to be saved. Billy caught the dog by the scruff ef the neck when he was within arm's length. The Skipper wagged his tail and turned about. There was a brief pause, during which the faith ful old dog determined upon the direc tion he would take. He espied the punts, which had borne down with all speed. Toward them he swam, and there was something of pride in his mighty strokes, something of exulta tion la his whine. Billy struck out with his free hand, and soon boy and dog wera pulled over tho side of the nearest punt. Through it all, as Billy now knew, the dog bad only wanted to save him. That night Billy Topsail took the Skipper aside for a long and confiden tial talk. "Skipper," said he, "I beg your pardon. You see, I didn't know what 'twas you wanted. I'm sorry I over bad a hard thought against you, and I'm sorry I tried to drown you, When I thought you only wanted to save yourself, 'twas Billy Topsail you were thinking of. When I thought you wanted to climb atop of me, 'twus my collar you wanted to catch. When I thought you wanted to bite me,' twas a scolding you were giving me for my foolishness. Skipper, b'y, honest, I beg your pardon. Next time I'll know that all a Newfoundland dog wants is a chance to tow me ashore. And I'll give him a whole chance. But, Skipper, don't you think you might have given me a chance to do some thing for myself?" At which the Skipper wagged his tail.—Youth's Companion. DON'T BE ASHAMED OF IDEALS. Tlio l'asslon For Things Good is Flantcil in Us All. Apropos to the recent discussion of the biography of Stevenson is this ex tract from an editorial article in the Century: "There is a hunger of the soul for things of good repute that, given a life of average length, is apt sooner or later to assert its power in every man not born an irreclaimable criminal. There is a passion, in strong natures as in weak, for things evil, but there is a passion as well for things clean and virtuous. In that strange and memor able colloquy of the dawji between Francis Villon and the Lord of Brise tout, in Stevenson's story, 'A Lodging for the Night,' the sympathetic figure is not the well-housed seigneur, but tho homeless, thieving poet. And yet the man of convention, warming his knees by his comfortable charcoal pan, said things that hold water. 'You speak of food and wine,' quoth he, 'and I know very well that hunger is a difficult trial to endure, but you do not speak of other wants; you say nothing of honor, of faith to God and other men, of courtesy, of love without reproach. It may be that I am not very wise end yet I think I am—but you seem to mo like one who has lost his way and made a great error in life. You aro nttending to the little wants, and you have totally forgotten the great and only real ones, like a man who should be doctoring toothache on the Judg ment Day. For such things as honor and love and faith are not only nobler than food and drink, hut, indeed, I think we desire them more, and suiter more sharply for their absence. I speak to you as I think yon will most easily understand me. Are you not, whl'.o careful to fill your belly, disre garding another appetite in your heart, which spoils the pleasure of your lifo and keeps you continually wretched?' "The young' man who put these words Into the mouth of the Lord of Brisetout knew one or two things about life, and It would be nothing other than natural If, moro and more, his own life betrayed that knowledge. "Ileaven knows there Is enough to pnll us down. Let us not be ashamed, we poor sinners, of cherlshtog Ideals, even in weakness! And defend us from the cynic critics who, for reasons that savor of qualities ono doee not wish to name, would deface the ideals that speak to us from the many-voluuied writings of a bravo, knightly and la mented spirit" Tlie Six-Fingered Children. Unique In the history of freaks is the six-fingered family of Dresbaeb, Minn. The family now consists'of Mrs. Gaskill and ten cnlldren. Tho peculiarity belongs to the mother's side. Mrs. Casklll's maiden name was Olive Cooper. She doesn't know where she was born, but the family was prob ably of New York origin. She remem bers only that she was a wanderer with the Cooper family at an early age, and that the Cooper family were basket-makers and venders; they led gypsy lives and crossed the continent from New York to San Francisco sev eral times. In the Cooper family there were ten children. Five of them lmd six fingers and five of them had not. The great est peculiarity is that every alternate child in point of age has the extra fin ger, and those who aro not six-fingered are blessed with an extra toe, and those who have six toes have webs between their toes. Tho extra toes and fingers have well developed nails. Exactly the same conditions are found in tho Gaskill family. Mrs. Gaskill was married to Zachoiis Gaskill thir ty-two years ago, and has resided In Dresden since then.—St. Paul Dis patch. Thames Watermen. Considering the deterioration of the Thames as a highway, it is surprising that the professional waterman should flourish as he does. This is in great part owing to the prize which Thomas Doggett, comedian, established to com memorate the accession of the House of Brunswick. For 179 years now, on August 1 every year, six young water men, just out of their apprenticeship, have rowed for tho flame-colored eoat and silver badge for which Doggett in liis will provided in perpetuity. The Fishmongers' Company, of which Dog gett was a member, provides other prizes, and tho contest still excites more than a local Interest.—London Chronicle. Excessive roliteiKiOß. There Is a lmm who Is always apolo gizing, and some say: "How courteous he is! How thoughtful! A boru gen tleman!" Know that he is a thorough and aggrosslve egotist. He runs against you, he step- on your foot, he tries to pass you on the left, he knocks your hat as he hangs by a strap in a car. he sits on your coat tall—what does ho not do to call attention to his own breeding? Sometimes he throws the accent on "beg," sometimes on "par—don." The speech is merely a rhetorical flourish and he has practiced all the variations.—Boston Journal. Of the 1557 towns in New England 101 manage their schools under the district system, eighty-one of them being Is Connecticut. Why Railroads Help. EVEIiY few months reports nro published concerning exhi bitions of road building ma chinery or mass meetings to discuss road construction, held under the supervision of railway companies. It is of no small Interest to examine into the reasons which have led one railroad to appoint a permanent good roads agent, another to transport over Its lines a trainload of machinery with which object lessons in economi cal road building are given at various towns, and many companies to oiler special rates for transportation ol plant for highway Improvement. Pre sumably these corporations are not doing this solely for philanthropic motives, hut because they recognize that the high cost of transportation over poor roads diminishes the farm-, er's abllily to market all hut the most valuable part of his produce and ills power of purchasing return freight; or, in other words, good roads are a necessity to wealthy farmers, and without wealthy farmers, and many of them, the railway revenues on local business are small. The census returns for the State of New York show that the decrease in population, in the last decade was 2201 in Wyoming, Livingston and Allegany counties. The special train which took tho New York members of the American Society of Civil Engineers to the recent convention at Niagara Falls passed through parts of these counties, and some of the members remarked on the fact that in spite of manifest advantages of soil and clhuute farming Is gradually decreas ing, and lands formerly under culti vation are now going hack to brush and weeds. The reason for this may be complex, but one of the most in fluential is surely the defective roads, which not only put an additional bur den on the cost of teaming, hut also isolate each farm and increase the diflicuity of social Intercourse. This latter influence is much greater than is usually recognized, for men. women and children are gregarious animals, and the hermit and recluse are rare. Moreover, the lack of good roads is depriving these counties of a very considerable revenue from tourists iud pleasure seekers. Their scenery Is beautiful, their climate attractive, but tbeir highways keep out the vis itor. Switzerland learned this lesson long ago, and has built up an enor mous Income from tourists by good roads and good hotels. Western New York has, of course, no Chnmounix, Zcruiatt or Interlakcn. but It lias more picturesque scenery than that to he found along the Qberlap and Alhula , passes from Andermatt to San Moritz. J Hosts of tourists take the latter tedious two day journey who would never think of it if a magnificent high way did not make the long diligence ride as comfortable as the smoothest roadway and the easiest of stages permit. Throughout this entire dis tance, moreover, there Is rarely a farm in sight, the hamlets are very small and there are only a few villages. It is self-evident that without the high road and Its well-kept branches tho country would bo deserted. If a simi lar road extended through the three retrograding New York counties, with less expensive but nevertheless good branches to the neighboring villages, it is safe to say thai the income from travelers and summer visitors alone would soon pay the cost of main tenance and reconstruction, to say nothing of the increased wealth of the farmers through cheaper transporta tion.—Engineering Iteeord, Macadam Machines. The construction of macadam roads on a large scale has naturally im parted a great impetus to the develop ment of rock crushing apparatus. The first steel rock crusher was built ten years ago and a gradual Improvement has since gone hand In hand with an increase of capacity. The most mod ern plants not only crush the stone but elevate it and separate it into sizes. The stone crushers weigh from two to eight tons each, require for their operation engines of from twelve to tweuty-five horse power and give a product of from eight to thirty tons of crushed stoue per hour. For separating the crushed stone into dif ferent sizes road makers usually use a portable storage bin which weighs 2500 pounds and lias three compart ments, each of which will hold four tous of stone, and whlcn are provide,l, with discharging chutes ou either sido^ 1 so that wagons can load from both sides if necessary. For separating the crushed material into various sizes screens of different types are avail able. One of the most interesting forms of this apparatus is the revolv ing screen, which revolves ou either a shaft or on rollers and into which the stone passes. Some of these screens are fifty-six Inches in dianiter, and Inasmuch as each screen is punched with holes of two different sizes, three different sizes of product are obtainod, ono size passing through the one-inch holes, a second size pass ing through the two-inch holes, and the largest size pasisug out at the end of the screen. A Spring 3000 Years Old. In Zante, one of the lonian Islands, there Is a petroleum spring which has been known for nearly 3000 years. It Is mentioned by Herodotus. California's barley crop harvested in' 1901 amounted to 500.000 tons.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers