A statistician has discovered that tEa
steel output tor a year would make a
Column 1000 feet through and a mile
and a third high. But such a column
would not he of the slightest use to
anybody.
Dr. Gatling, who invented the gun
known by his name, has Invented a
plow operated by gasoline, which will
do the work of thirty men and eight
horses at an expense of a little more
than $2 a day. The farmer may now
look forward to a life of luxurious ease.
It is not too much to say that the
modern development of advertising
was made possible by electricity. With
out the telephone and the telegraph
publicity would be far less profitable,
and therefore it could not have reached
its present high stage of development,
says Profitable Advertising.
It has come at last. Messrs. Fleury
and Fere, two French scientists, have
just issued a book seriously asserting
that love ts caused by microbes. Near
ly everyone catches the affection, soon
er or later—usually sooner—and some
have It more than once. The French
professors think that an antitoxin can
be found which will neutralize the mis
chievous little germs, so that anyone
after being properly inoculated can
hang round in the moonlight and do I
other things equally imprudent without
becoming the victim of the contagion.
The making of bogus antiquities has
become so common and so successful
that even experts have to be constant
ly on their guard not to be fooled. Out
of a shipment of twenty-one mummies
from Egypt recently nineteen were
found to be frauds, but nothing but
modern skeletons treated so as to very
closely imitate the genuine in every
detail. The idol business in Mexico is
now so overdone that scientific men
recommend tourists not to buy any
such pretended relies, as in ninety-nine
cases out of 100 they are not genuine.
The sessions of the Tuberculosis |
Congress have been beyond precedent i
helpful in practical hints suitable to '
the layman's understanding. It is well |
to know that consumption is not prop- j
erly hereditary and not even easily j
communicable to persons taking proper
precautions; that its allies are intern- !
perance. insufficient clothing, damp- j
ness, filth, overcrowding, improper
food; that its foes are fresh air, un- I
limited sunshine, good food, sanitary j
surroundings. These things are for j
individual consideration, states the
New York World. The appeal of va- j
rious speakers for more parks and play
grounds, for better homes for the poor
and for hospitals where light cases
can be cured and hopeless ones pre
vented from endangering the commu
nity should appeal to lawmakers and j
philanthropists.
Harrington Emerson, writing in the |
Engineering Magazine, is authority for
the statement that of the Atlantic and !
Pacific oceans the Pacific is destined !
to become the greater trade ocean of the !
two. Not only do the most dense and !
industrious populations of the world j
line the western shores of the great I
ocean, but the western coast of North j
America in natural wealth far sur- j
passes the eastern coast, with the ex- i
ception of coal; yet if the Crows Nest
coal mines of British Columbia, lying '
on the west slope of the Itocky Mount- j
ains and but 000 miles from the Pacific
be included in Pacific coast resources,
then in coal also the West surpasses the
East, for these measures, many hun
dred miles in area, contain, in fifteen
veins. 150 feet of solid coal, some of it
gas coal, some anthracite, and the soft
varieties of super-excellent coking coal."
Making wills is serious business in
Minnesota, for the State courts make
short work of the foolish ones, on the
.theory that when a man is dead he is
dead, and his crotchets and notions die
with him. There will be no lack of
sympathy with the court in the latest
instance, at any rate. A man named
Scott, living in Minnesota, grew up to
hate his relatives as he waxed older,
and he made a will leaving his prop
erty, all in Government bonds, to the
county, to help out the taxpayers. But
as he advanced in years bis hatreds
grew more and more far-reaching.
From confining them merely to his
relatives he began to bate his neigh
bors, and finally all the people who
wore associated with him in any way.
Then he hit upon a scheme. He tore
up his first will and constructed an
other. directing that the bonds be
burned, thus causing the value of them
to remain for ever in the United States
Treasury. If he had lived long enough
this scheme, too, would doubtless have
seemed unsatisfactory, but he died
soon after. The court quickly disposed
of the will, and now the immediate
beirs are enjoying the property.
|KIT'S SWEETHEART.!
BY WILLIAM WALDO. pp
JACK CAUDKEW whistled. Then
up went his eyebrows, a second
indication of surprise. Then he
laid the note on the table, and,
standing over it with his hands on his
hips in a commanding fashion, he read
it again to make quite sure of its con
tents:
"Dear Jack: —Can't possibly get back
for half an hour. Be my good angel,
there's a good chap. Madeline and I
have had a tiff; nothing really serious,
only she ia so impetuous. She promised
to call to-day, and we were to thrash the
whole thing out over a luncheon of the
daintiest conceiving, and here I am simply
booked for an hour or more with my only
moneyed relation. My dear old Jack, you
see my dilemma and your duty! If Made
line goes to Half Moon street and finds
me not there, that beautiful half hoop,
with the pearls, et cetera, (which, by the
by, is still unpaid for), will return into
my possession (or the jeweler's), and
Madeline Oh, Jack, my dear old
chap, you must explain how unhappy 1
was having to go out! If I stayed, 1
could make it up with Madeline, and we
should be married, but 1 should offend my
disgustingly rich uncle and lose my in-
I come. On the other hand, I am now in
pleasant proximity to the income, while
the wife—precious, impetuous Madeline—
is in danger of being lost forever. So you
must pacify her until I come. And 1 say,
old boy, do just slip in a few incidental
touches as to my—ahem!—manly qualities.
Paint my virtues in all the iridescent hues
of an abnormally healthy imagination.
Butter me up for all you are worth.
Bring ns together like the good fairy in
the story book, and I shall ever remain
your grateful KIT."
"P. S.—Say I'm a real good chap and
all that sort of thing."
Here was a strange situation. Jack
reviewed it critically, marking off the
main points on his finger ends. Kit,
the best chap in the world, though a
little impetuous, vexes Madeline, also
impetuous. Madeline consents to a
general amnesty to discuss terms of
peace. Kit appoints—here Jack con
sults his watch—a quarter of twelve.
Madeline agrees. Kit is ambushed by
a hopelessly wealthy uncle, and Made
line is on the point of coming to the
agreed spot to find herself, in plain
English, spoofed! Item: One interme
diary—viz. a'nd to wit, Jack Cardrew—
who hereby swears and undertakes to
pacify, mollify, soothe, soften and oth
i erwise stroke down Madeline.
After which mental declaration Jack
fell into an armchair and tried to pic
ture Miss Madeline Nelthorpe laugh
i ing at the odd chance that was to give
him his first introduction to Kit's
sweetheart.
She was late. It was five minutes
to twelve. Jack strode the room with
all the seriousness of a professional
| expert in smoothing over the waters
-of true love. To complete the picture
[ he thrust his right hand with an air
of careless meditation iuto bis double
; breasted jacket and booked his fore
| linger into his watch pocket. It came
t In contact with a hard, smooth sub
stance. A bright light illumined Jack's
face as be very carefully and tenderly
withdrew a dance programme. It
would inspire him in Kit's cause. He
knew what it was to love. He bad a
very deep and sincere attachment for
—be looked at the programme against
the eighth dance—"pink with blue
dots." So brief, so uniutelligible, yet
how sweet a morsel of womanhood
] was contained in those magic if slight
ly unromantie words, "pink with blue
[ dots!" And to think that was all he
J knew of her! Her name, her chaperon,
| alike unknown to him! The music of
; her voice, the delightful roguish laugh,
the deep, uufathomable blue dots
eyes, I mean—lingered in his memory
| like some pleasant dream.
Yes, he could plead to Miss Nel
thorpe on Kit's behalf with a lover's
| enthusiasm. He could speak from
i experience, for Cupid had taken him
; by the hand and shown him a wonder
ful new world, a realm hitherto un
dreamed of, a beautiful piuk paradise
! with—well, blue dots.
! Twelve o'clock. She was late.
Just thea tile door opened, aud Miss 1
Nelthorpe was announced,
j Jack came forward to meet her, then
| stopped dead. Could it be? Kit's
sweetheart this?
j "Mr. Cardrew," exclaimed the be-
I witching visitor in a tone of genuine
amazement, "what a surprise!"
"Piuk with blue dots," cried Jack,
j with a look of chagrin,
j "Then you haven't forgotten me?"
j "Forgotten you? No; I wish I had.
! I mean I wish—ob, to think what I
j have promised!"
And he let slip the little suede fingers
! of his lost angel and metaphorically
: turned his back on paradise.
I "The eighth dance," said Miss Nel
i thorpe, with a sigh and a half laugh.
I "The seventh heaven," groaned Jack.
I "Miss Nelthorpe, let me tell you every
thing," continued the unhappy Car
j drew, taking a low scat by the girl's
; side and assuming a martyr at the
; stake expression. "When I saw you
melt into a crowd hovering and press
j ing about the refreshment buffet at
! the dance the other night, I felt nl
'■ most inclined to run after you and
1 beg you not to leave me. The thought
i that we might never meet again chilled
and sickened me. For the truth is, 1
j was hopelessly, desperately, madly,
! blindly and all the rest of it, in love
i with you."
j "Mr. Cardrew!" ejaculated she, rising
! with a pretty glow in her cheeks.
"Sit down," said Jack quietly and
with a matter of fact air. "For three
whole days I have felt the ebb and
flow of a strong tide of passion. I
have suffered appreheusion lest 1
should never see you, lest you should
forget me, lest my violent attachment
' should work itself out like a cold In
the head."-
Miss Nelthorpe looked perplexed.
"An hour ago," said Jack, rising ab
ruptly, "and I would have given all I
possess to meet you. Now you are the
last person in the world I desired to
see. Oh, I'm an awful unlucky chap!"
The visitor grew a little uneasy.
"I don't understand you," she said,
simply.
"I wish you hadn't come in, that's
all," said Jack.
"If I had known " began Miss
Nelthorpe. "But I came to see "
"Ivit."
"Yes," assented she, surprised at
Jack's boisterous interruption.
"Kit, fortunate Kit."
"And he promised to meet "
"But you'll forgive him. He left me
here and, after making me promise to
wring from you an assurance of for
giveness, told me to be sure and not
let you go until he came back."
"But I want to tell you " said
Miss Nelthorpe, with a roguish laugh.
"No, no. I won't listen," said Jack,
resolutely. "You're going to slang Kit.
You are going to blame him, scold
him. Now you must forgive him.
He's such a splendid chap, and—and it
was I who made him go out"
"I'm glad," she said, and laughed.
"Glad? Then you didn't want to
meet him and make it up?"
' "No. It's not exactly that."
"After all, it was only a lover's quar
rel, a slight brush, and all about a
hat, a paltry toque. You see, Kit has
told me everything. Now you're sorry,
really sorry, Kit is out, aren't you?"
"No," began she in a petulant tone.
"Now," said Jack, in cheery tones,
"I see you relenting. The hard little
heart is melting."
She laughed outright.
"Very well, then," she admitted, her
face wreathed in smiles, "I am sorry."
"Capital," said Jack. "He's such an
awful decent chap—Kit. You'll be so
happy, and I shall be so miserable!"
Miss Nelthorpe stroked her muff. As
she raised her eyes she saw on a chair
near by the dance programme.
"Why," she said, "that's the pro
gramme of—"
"Yes," interrupted Jack, hastily.
"Fancy your keeping it."
"The pencil, you know," replied he—
"such a jolly handy thing to have."
"Yes," responded Miss Nelthorpe,
feelingly, "especially when it hasn't a
point."
"By Jove," he said in desperation,
"what a splendid chap Kit is!"
"Yes; you told me."
"I suppose you're simply devoted to
him."
"Humph! Yes, I—l like him."
"Like him!" repeated Jack. "My
dear Miss Nelthorpe, you love him; you
know you do."
"Likes him," he said to himself.
"She only likes him."
The girl gave the case due consid
eration.
"Well," she said, "perhaps you are
right, Mr. Cardrew. 1 do love him."
Jack's face fell.
"Loves him," he said to himself.
"I've over-persuaded her. I'm forcing
her into a loveless, distasteful mar
riage, and I simply worship her."
"When I say I like him—love him,"
explained Miss Nelthorpe, taking
Jack's dismal expression as an index
of his true feelings, "of course I mean
in a friendly way—a brotherly way."
"Friendly!" said Jack. ("Angel!" he
thought.) "Brotherly!" said Jack.
("Lovely creature!" he thought.)
"I'oor old Kit!" he ejaculated in his
most buoyant tcne. ("Site doesn't care
a snap for him. She has thrown him
up. She's in love with me, while I
have promised 1 "
"I'oor old Kit!" echoed Miss Nel
thorpe. "If only "
"If only," repeated Jack, coming
closer and touching her gloved hand.
"Oh," she said, "you mustn't do
that."
"No."
"I mean, you oughtn't to."
"No."
Silence for exactly thirty seconds.
"After all," said Jack, with a gallant
attempt at gayety, "you can't do better
than stick to Kit. Make a better hus
band than I "
"Why, what do ycu mean?"
"Handsome chap, well made. I'm
loose-jointed, plain. Kit's amiability
itself. I'm never civil before twelve
and always grumpy when the sun goes
in. Kit's bright, talkative, witty, com
panionable. I'm silent, unsociable and
dull."
"And your livers?" inquired Miss
Nelthorpe.
"I don't believe Kit has one, while
I—l believe I've got two. Now you
see what a treasure you've got in Kit."
And Jack picked the programme up
and nursed it tenderly.
She watched him closely.
"So you'll forget his little unreason
ableness, won't you?"
"One one condition," she said.
"And that?"
"That you will put that programme
in the tire." Jack eyed it longingly,
"if I marry Kit," said the girl, with
a little laugh, "it would be as well not
to cherish old memories."
"It will be only a memory. Won't
you let me keep it?" he asked plain
tively.
"Better not," she said.
"The remembrance of the happiest
quarter of an hour in all my life "
"For Kit's sake."
Jnck folded the silken cord about it
and went over to the fireplace.
"A pencil is such an awfully handy
thing."
"For Kit's sake." He raised It above
the flames. "Wait," said the girl. "I
just remember I am always wanting a
pencil. Perhaps it would do if I toot
it." Jack handed it to her as if i)
were coronet of thistledown. She tool
it with a little queenly air of triumph
and put it in her muff. "There," sho
said; "that meaus you must forget
me."
Jack groaned.
"And you'll make it up with Kit?"
he said, dismally. "Of—of ccurse I
want you to."
"Oh, we're very good friends," re
turned she.
"And when you two are married,"
began Jack in a thick, tragic, basso
profundo.
"Married!" cried Miss Nelthorpe,
breaking into a rippling flood of laugh,
ter. "Oh, we shall never marry!"
"Never marry! Ah, you are heartless
to talk like that, to laugh! Poor Kit!
He's in a fool's paradise."
Miss Nelthorpe grew serious.
"And would you like me to marry
Kit?" she asked, taking a more than
usual interest in fho pattern of the
carpet.
"How can you ask? For Kit's sake,
yes."
"Well," she said, getting up abrupt
ly, "I can't wait for Kit another sec
ond. It's a shame!"
Jack turned to remonstrate.
"It's of no use. I can't stay. I must
leave a message."
"But he'll be back in a minute."
"Just in time to find me gone. Mr.
Cardrew, may I intrust a message with
you?"
"But you must stay "
"Will you tell Kit that Madeline is
in bed with a cold—"
"Madeline in bed "
"And that 1 have called as a deputy
peace envoy."
"You—you!" exclaimed Jack, trem
bling with excitement. "Then—then
you are not Kit's sweetheart?"
Miss Nelthorpe laughed. "I did my
best to explain "
"Then you're mine!"
And be advanced with the energy
and swiftness of passion. The girl
gave a little start and assumed an ex
pression and carriage of dignity great
,ly offended.
"Mr. Cardrew," she said, her hands
clasped together In her muff, her head
flung in the air, "you forgot "
"I'm sorry," said Jack, abashed, "hut
you know how—how I love you "
"It is wnsted, believe me."
"Wasted!" echoed Jack in great de
jection. "Why, what can you mean?"
"Think, Mr. Cardrew, think what It
would mean?"
"I know I'm not half worthy of you
—not good eno "
"Far from handsome," said she, "lose
jointed, never civil before twelve
o'clock."
"I would really try to make you
happy," pleaded Cardrew.
"As happy as a silent, unsociable,
dull husband could, I suppose."
"Perhaps, after all, I'm not as bad
as that."
"Even If you were not," said she,
with imperturbable gravity, "a man
with two livers—it would be like mar
rying a chronic bilious attack."
Jack was fairly caught.
"At any rate," he ventured, "you
will let me have my programme back,
since you arc not going to marry Kit."
Miss Nelthorpe demurred. "You have
stolen my heart," said Jack in ag
grieved tones. "Y'ou have stolen my
programme "
"I should like to keep one," said the
girl, prettily, "in remembrance of the
second happiest quarter of an hour "
"The pencil has no point," said Jack.
"It wouldn't be of the least use."
"Very well, then," she said. "I will
return it," and held it out to Jack.
He took the hand that proffered It
and held it fast.
"Won't you overlook my two livers?"
he pleaded.
"It's so unusual," she said.
"But you have two hearts," said
Jack.
Miss Nelthorpe laughed gayly.
"What a poor card player you would
•make. Look, what is in your hand.
Wliat are you holding?"
"My programme," said Jack.
"And my heart," said Miss Nel
thorpe. "Y'ou see, you don't know the
strength of your hand."
"By George!" said Jack, "the win
ning heart!"
And the roses in her cheeks assented.
—King.
Whence Curnei Electricity?
At a time when electricity is rapidly
transforming the face of the globe,
when it has already in great measure
annihilated distance, and bids fair to
abolish darkness for us, it is curious
to notice how completely ignorant "the
plain man" remains as to the later de
velopments of electrical theory. Some
recent correspondence has led me to
think that a vague notion that electric
ity is a fluid which in some mysterious
way flows through a telegraph wire
like water through a pipe is about as
far as he has got; and it' we add to this
some knowledge of what he calls "elec
tric shocks," we would probably ex
haust his ideas on the subject. Yet
this is not to he wondered at. E-en
the most instructed physicists can do
nothing but guess as to what electric
ity is, aud the only point on which
tliey agree is as to what it is not.
There is, in fact, a perfect consensus
of opinion among scientific writers that
it is not a fluid, i. e., a continuous
stream of ponderable matter, as is
a liquid or a gas; and that it is not a
form of energy, as is heat. Outside
this limit the scientific imagination is
at liberty to roam where it listetb, and
although it has used this liberty to a
considerable extent, no definite resull
has followed up to the present time.—
The Academy,
P'HSL jm.
Flnnikin and Fonnikin.
Pinnikin and Ponnikin
Went frolicking together,
When winter's winds had sunk to rest t
And it was pleasant weather.
And oh! the funny things they did
That long, long pleasant day !
It seemed they must be very tired
When they nad finished play.
Pinnikin was very quick,
'Most always led the fun,
But Ponnikin was never slow
When things had been begun.
And both of them could dance about
Like little streaks of light,
And neither one was ever still 'v.p
From early morn till night.
And who were they? You'd never guess—
Although 'tis very plain—
Not even if you all should try
Again, ana yet again.
So now we'll whisper in your ears
Till each child understands:
Why! Pinnikin and Ponnikin
Arc just the baby's hands!
—Chicago Record-Herald.
My Dear Polly—Do you know that
the bluebirds are here ever so much
earlier than usual this year? Patty
and X saw them this morning, and I
must tell you what they did.
X heard their sweet little song before
I caught a glimpse of their gorgeous
blue coats. And then what did the
father bird do but just flit down from
the bough of the old maple tree right
In the grass at my feet.
lie didn't seem the least bit afraid
of me; in fact, he almost Ignored my
presence and called to his little mate
so cheerily that she at once flew to his
side.
They are a handsome pair. The fe
male is a little smaller in size and her
A PUZZLE PICTURE.
\ •'James, bring some more coru."
Wbere is James?
plumage is not nearly so brilliant. But I
ebe has a motherly air and looks with
pride at her handsome lord and master,
anxiously waiting tor him to decide
What their next move shall be.
They sat quietly in the grass for a
few moments twittering and cooing in
a soft little way, as though they were
making the most interesting kind of
plans. And, oh, what a bright spot
they did make on the brown grasses of
the meadow.
Finally it seemed to be settled that
they would depart for the old elm tree
at the other side of the meadow. Away
they flew until they reached the lower
branches of the elm tree, and there the
little minstrel began to pour forth his
tale of love until it seemed as though
his little throat would burst with mel
ody.
But all at once his sweet Eoug ceased,
for up on a branch just a little way
from his chosen bride sat a rival, with
coat just as blue, eyes just as bright
and altogether quite as attractive look
ing as himself.
It did not take our lover long to de
cide what course he should pursue.
For as soon as the newcomer began his
song our valiant knight pursued the in
truder, driving him from one place to
' another, all the time uttering angry,
peeps and chirps which told only too
well of the jealousy which wrangled
in his little heart. He was not the least
of a "faint heart" sort, for he never
stopped until he had driven the intru
der out of the meadow, scolding as
hard as he could.
And what do you think the little
mate was doing all this time? She
tilted up and down 011 a twig, singings
a low, sweet little song, and watched
the affair with mere ordinary interest.
But very soon back came Master
Bluebird with triumph in his flight
and love la his eyes, to begin again his
story of devotion to his beloved mate.
Such a glad and joyous strain as it
was, Polly. Do you like any other
bird's song as well? I don't. The little
wife was so contented to hear it, and
she answered him back in her quiet
little twitter, which told in very plain
language that she was quite suited
with his song and wanted nothing bet
ter.
And so were we suited, and we never
expect to find anything more charm
ing. As we left the meadow the little
song we used to sing in the third grade
came to me. Do you remember it,
Polly, dear?
"A mist of green on the willows,
A flash of blue mid the rain;
And a fluted song tells the heart be
strong.
The darkest days will wane,
For the bluebirds, the bluebirds,
Have come to us again."
Ned gave me such a fine field glass
for use in my study of birds. How I
shall enjoy it. We are to begin our
field work to-morrow, which means
that we must breakfast at 5, for you
know the birds are very early risers.
So, good-night, my dear, and pleasant
dreams. Yours, with love, Susan Dale.
—Chicago Record-Herald.
Bird* Are Carelesi Builders.
Nearly all sea birds arc far more
careless in their nesting than their
cousins who live inland. The terns,
the skua, the puffins, the blackthroated '
diver and the guillemot really make
no nests at ali. The puffins, however.
t usually borrow a rabbit burrow, and
' are not particular whether lis original
. owners have done with or not. If they
' interfere, or even try to pass, a peek
from the puffin's great parrot-shaped
' bill is enough to warn them against
' trying to experiment the second time. '
' The auks are birds of the northern
: seas, and are perhaps the linest divers
i of all the feathered tribes. Their short
t wings look in fact far more like tins
than wings, and unlike gulls, the auks
' catch their prey beneath the water.
! The auk's selection of a spot to lay her
' eggs is very strange. She chooses
a bare, broken ledge of hard rock,
overhanging the waves. It looks as
though it were a feat to balance eggs
in such a place, and the marvel is that
the first gale does not send them roll
ing over the crags. But an auk's
eggs are so shaped us to prevent such
a calamity; they are much larger at v
one end than at the other, and so in- I
stead of rolling straight ahead like a"4
ball they turn around in a circle when
started and so keep their places upon
the rocks.
To Boil nn Eire Without Fire.
Open a raw egg a little on both ends
to allow some of the white to run out.
Take first-class alcohol of high per
centage and pour it in the openings.
Close the two openings with your
fingers as shown in the illustration, or
with little pieces of wax; shake the
egg well, so the alcohol can penetrate
every particle of it. After three or
four minutes the contents of the egg
I will apparently he hard, so that the
1 egg can be opened and pressed as hard
■ bo,led. It goes without saying that
the egg is not warm, as the alcohol has
i only made the white solid. The egg
does not taste bad. only strongly of al
i coho).—New York Tribune.