FREELAKD TRIBUNE. ESTAHLIsnEI) 1888. PUBLISHED EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY, BY THE TRIBUNE PRINTING COMPANY, Limited OFFICE; MAIN STREET ABOVI CENTRE, LONG DISTANCE TELEPHONIC. SUBSCRIPTION RATES FREELAND.— The TRIBUNE la delivered by carriers to subscribers in Froolandatthe rata of 12H) cents per month, payable every twa months, or $1.50* year, payable in advance- The TRIBUNE may bo ordered direct form tha carriers or from the office. Complaints of Irregular or tardy delivery service will re. ocive prompt attention. BY MAIL —The TRIBUNE is sent to out-of* town subscribers for $1.5.) 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 no* newals must be made at the expiration, other* wise the subscription will be discontinued. Entered at the Postofflce at Freeland. Pa, as Second-Class Matter. Make all money orders, cheeks, eto. ,payable to the Tribune J'rrnting Company, Limited. •- - *■ * MILITARY CAMP IN SIBERIA. How the Russians Pitch Their Tents— Sturdy and Happy Men. On the Sunday morning when all the church bells were clanging and good Blagovestchenslc folks were hastening, armed with prayer books, to worship, I took a solitary walk along the Amur side. On the way I passed through the camp where are stationed some 3,000 eoldiers. It was well situated near a wood. The officers' quarters were of timber, painted white, and there were scraggy gardens in front. There were great long sheds for the troops, but most of the men were under canva3. Their tents were pitched on quite a different plan to that adopted by Brit ish troops. There was first built up t 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 whlte-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 wore 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 Bruramel, was to expiate his con temptible vanity in an old age of ob scurity, want and misery. As he grew old, he grew insolent and seemed in sensible to the pain lie 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 evidence that there was ground for this suspicion in letters of Quin written from Bath, in which he says, "Old Beaux Kr.ash 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 Mra. Delaney, but he died in a smaller one near by. NEARER THE SUN NOW. But the Tilt cf Its Axis Gives Less Heat. Astronomically, the earth is nearest the sun these days, but tne 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 we 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 wo are once mere 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? EM the world gone wrong? I be*r ft Has the world gone wrong? I hear the ehild sounds Who is singing a happy song, That men who are busy make. And across the way an anvil rings, I hear the engines puff away, And yonder a maiden hurries along And, strong in body, 1 go to take With a look that only gladness brings. The little part that I have to play. 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 tne starry see skies, Glad faces glow where hearts are light— A sparrow cheeps to its little mate. Oh, the world is good to them and me. —Chicago Record-Herald. TOM CLAFLIN was sixteen years old when his family moved from Chicago to San Diego, Cal. His father, a consumptive, was no longer able to work. His 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 months, 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 thorn 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 a 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 dny after day poor Tom trudged, big with bis 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 Claflin, of the good ship 'Little Mother.' " The little woman's blue eyes were filled with tears when her hoy showed them the bill of sale to the effect that be had bought a vessel for $12.50, and ... .- TROLLING FOR LARGE FISH. .. ■-v thus, like a true-blue Chieagoan, risked his all in the only business venture in tight. "I named her for you, mother, and you must christen bur and take a sail 1& her to morrow." With a basket of luncheon and a pail and shovel for clams, the Claflin 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 raidinnt in a coat of fresh white paint, her sails mended and ship shape, the Stars and Stripes fluttering from her peak and her name in bold blue letters across her bows. Tom's little brother and sisters danced 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," botli bub bling over with excitement and nauti cal terms, tugging at ropes, running about like regular Jack-tars and mak ing all ready "to put to sea," as Tom said. As the boat, driven by a cool sou'east breeze, stood out across the hay for the Loma lighthouse, Tom showed them nil the new hand-pump ho had rigged Into ills little "ship." he explained the centreboard, pointed out the imaginary beauties rnd qualities of the "Little Mother," boasted of what he meant to accomplish as a professional fipher nian, and made everybody so happy that it seemed no time at all till the sun was dipping into the sen and the first cruise of the "Little.Mother" was ever. And the boy made good money with his modest venture. lie would rise with the sun each morning, and with his dinner pall nnd coarse tackle make tor the heat 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 jewflsh that escaped him in his lonely, all-day cruises up and down tlint matchless summer sea. Sometimes he would induce some lazy wharf idler to accompnuy him, some times old Pedro, the retired Portu guese from whom he had bought the boat would hail 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 stem sheets, and little Charley would "man the Jib" or troll n line for small fish, but alone or with "a crew" Tom never failed to bring homo 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 Tom Cliflln carried sightseers from the Santa Fo pier to the Monterey. Good seaman that he was, he was fascin nted with the dazzling spotlessness of the monitor, and every night while she lay in port Tom came aboard to revel in the ship-talk and yarns of officers and men. lie soon knew all the offi cers by name, and had formed a close friendship with a seaman named Han sen, who had 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 end of town. A knife in the dark as he was dragging his prisoner through an alleyway, a panic of chattering Chinamen, who quenched their in nips 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 Sr.n 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 lier sailing for three days and then the erimo. began to be for gotten. Torn sailed out to the fishing grounds every morning with whomever he could pick up. It was nearly a month after the monitor hnd gone when a lone fisherman sitting at the end of the jetties that reach from the crescent end of Coronado Island hailed him. Young Claflin stood in for the landing and invited the stran ger aboard. He wanted something to eat, and the hoy, with a sudden flut ter In his heart, opened his pall and hade the stranger make himself com fortable. They fished all that day with rare luck, and at sundown the "little Mother" was deep with her cargo of barracuda. Once under the lee of Point Lomu on the homeward trip the breeze died out, and the boat went drifting with the tide. The southern reaches of the entrance to San Diego harbor are covered with sandbars and shallows that extend two miles along the Inner side of Coronado. j The tide van out while "Little Moth er" was drifting nbout these bars, and j when darkness fell she went hard | aground. A dense fog came with the | night. The channel buoys disappeared. | The distant lights of the city were blurred and quenched in the thlA 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. Ills comrade sullenly agreed, and se they dropped anchor, and lay rocking in the calm cloud of mist for hours. The stranger fell asleep iu the bottom of the boat, but Tom, big-eyed now, his heart beating 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 sen 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 iu the morning when he reached the police station in San Diego. He was bareheaded una wet, his 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. 1 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-llerald. PROPERTIES OF THE MADSTONE. Cowpuncher. of the Went IMuce Great Faith In the Absorbent. The madstono is supposed to be taken from the stomach of a white deer. It is about the size of an Eng lish walnut, and slightly porous. When n person is bitten by an animal af flicted with rabies tlie stone is placed on the bite. It immediately sticks, sometimes for half an hour. One of the greatest fears of the cowpunelior is of being bitten by • skunk. In the cattle country, when tlie puncher is on the range and must sleep out of doors of nights, he hardly ever lies down on the grouud 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, aud search is made among the ranchers for a mad stone. The eowpuncher is simple in his faiths, and he clings to tills one. And, indeed, many marvelous tales are told of the succesg 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 aud 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 he seen when the in animate little doctor fell off, after thirty minutes' adhesion. Tlie stone was put in water, aud a blue film im mediately formed ou the surface. The man got well. The value of a madstone varies with its owner. The stone just told of was held at SSOO. Telegraphs Through Jungle*. Reports of pushing forward of the transcontinental South African tele graph line rencli civilization from time to time, by the hardships suffered Uy 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 Tanganyka. During the last couple of hundred miles tlie 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 tlie wire and cause troublesome leakage. The natives cannot be in duced to go in during the season and cut down tlie weeds owing to the swarm of crocodiles. In another sec tion the elephants have caused sev eral interruptions by breaking off the polos. Iu some of the forests through which tlie 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. Honors For the Young. The new Chief Justice of Sierra Leone, Mr. r. C. Srnyly, is the young est man holding sueli a position In the colonial service. He is only thirty-five, and lias been on the west const for the past six years and found the climate to agree Willi him. The new Chief Justice took his LL. D. degree in Dub lin University ten years ago, and his great talents early marked him out for rapid advancement. Londrm Chroni cle. USE OF THE PIN. Tlio Very Important Part It Plays In a Woman's Life. A great deal of 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 stitcliery is very light and unreliable, apt to give way at any moment. French hooks and eyes, frills and bows, are all apt to come off after one sewing. Mere sew ing is not the artistic tiling 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 IVit 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 more strong stitcli ery. I'ersonnllty cannot be expressed in n frock that any other woman could dupllcnte. It must have special touches of its own, and it cannot have those 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 frocks are very well mnde—too well made to have any subtlety or illusion. Every fold is In place. Every frill is secured by a strong 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, [low you long to see a little difference In tlie bodice, a curve iu the sleeve that you had not noticed before! But all this would menu imagination or pins! Consequently the notion of a pin is abhorrent; it is untidy; the dressmaker lias not done her work properly; she lias been paid for something for which she lias not given full value. With the use of the pin we get vari ety, while in tlie 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 proctirable with gold. No other attribute Is so neces sary to those who wish to be well dressed Jls 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 style 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 does not wear corsets. When you have looked long and crit ically at such n womf.x you will real ize that nothing matters; her clothes cover her, and that is all one can say. Iler dressmaker may be more or less of a genius, and will stitch the draper ies so that they suit her fairly well; tlie stuff may be pretty and the style unobjectionable—what there is of it; It only lies with the dressmaker, and she lias had to firmly stitch her best aspirations. Consequently there is a certain suggo3tivcness of henvy linked pudding throughout.—New York Com mercial Advertiser. How to Hold Up tlie 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 n decided advantage over her less gainly sister, and the onlooker knows that the ugly backs of the largo majority of woman are due to the way iu which they hold their skirts. Skirts for dressy wear are worn resting on the ground, both in front, at the sides, and with a long train behind, and they promise to bo iu vogue for some time to come. A few remarks as to how to manage them may not be unwelcome to those who wear them. Of course a long dress should not lm worn in wet weather; then common sense demands a skirt not longer than a couple of inches from the ground all around, but in dry weather the long skirt is still worn by many women out of doors, and it is to nine instances out of ten held up by grasping the back of the skirt about midway down, aud drawing It us much as possible toward the side, thereby outlining the figure. How a woman can hold her skirt in this manner after she has seen how other women look when doing so is a mystery. It is ugly aud vulgar, and it spoils her walk as well as her entire appearance. To hold the skirt gracefully it should be grasped in the centre of the hack as far down as the hand can comfortably reach and with the hand still exactly In the centre the skirt should be raised just sufficiently to raise it from the ground. By this means the sides of the skirt will remain full and not dragged in with it, as we so often see; it will also be found much easier to walk in. A little shake should bo given to the skirt after It has been gathered, up. This lets the folds or flounces at the bottom fall into their natural positions and so frees the train from any dust that may have adhered to the edges previous to Its being gathered up. The train should never be allowed to rest on the ground except indoors.—Amer ican Queen. ykn Educational Hint. To keep girls "in touch tvlth the home life" at the same time that tliey are gaining a college education and a high degree of intellectual cultivation, is the rather large program which Miss GUI, the dean of Barnard College, lias expressed a wish to adopt. Miss GUI suggests that it may be well to have girls who go to college take a purely social vacation of a year between the sophomore and junior years, in which they may establish their place with their own set, and cultivate the domes tie side of their nature. This sugges tion Is interesting, hut it seems to go against the American genius in one respect. It is a part of out- National character to devote ourselves with sin gleness and thoroughness to whatever we undertake. We may change our | professions or devote ourselves to new careers, but when we make a change we believe la burning our boats be--- ! hind us. The American girl who goes to col lege obeys this instinct in making a business of it The very thoroughness of her devotion to the career has raised the question whether the college edu cation does not produce a sore of atro phy of the domestic impulses. The question is one which experience must answer. But even very studious g-rls in college are apt to get their social recesses, without taking a year off, and we doubt if the socially deadening influence of the college training is as great as is often supposed.—New York Mail and Express. Winter M u fls. Muffs are a curious study this year, and are indeed oue of the most expen sive accessories to a complete toilet. To wear with the fur coats—the scusi- , bio ones, that is—there are fur muffs made iu the old-fushioued round shapes, but without auy thick inter lining of cotton, or muffs In obloug shupe, lined with satin, or with the same fur that is outshle. These have uo interlining, whatever, except some down. But no matter hew many fur mull's a woman owns, she is not well gowned unless she has a muff for each costume —rather a serious undertaking in these days, when so many costumes are demanded by fashion. To wear with a gray cloth gown there is a muff, oblong in shape, made entirely of gray taffeta silk. The centre has rows of cords, and at each end are four ruffles trimmed with fuell ings of taffeta, and on the outside of the muff a white artificial flower with green leaves fastening a how of gray satin ribbon. To wear with tins is a double cape collar and ruche, made of the taffeta silk, trimmed with pink ruehings, a large bow at the back of the neck, and an Inside ruffle of line 1 white lace. At the throat are long lace ties and bunches of gray satin rib bou.—Harper's Bazar. Concerning Baby's Sleep. A table showing the amount of time a healthy, well-brought-up baby spends each day in steeping, was brought out recently by au authority. It is us follows: For the first three weeks, from 17 to 19 hours. At oue month, 17 to IS hours. At two months, 10 to 17 hours. At three months, 15 to 10 hours. At nine months, lS'.i to 11 hours. At twelve mouths, 10 to 11 hours. After this a child should sleep as loug as possible—uot less than 11