THE FRIENDLY jSEASONS.
I'm friends with ail the seasons, no mat
ter how they go—
I'm thankful for ihe summer, an' I jest re
joice in snow!
An' nevermore this world shall be a wilder
ness of woe
While rlreamin' of its harvests in the
mornin'l
I'm thankful in the darkness for the
dreams that whisper "Light!"
For the thought that mornin's comin' with
a wreath o' ruies bright;
For the harbor that's off yonder, with the
rest of it in sight—
When the ships will ride at anchor in
tic.* morain'!
—Atlanta Constitution.
$1
1 THE OVERLAND 1
I EASTBQUND |
iMinMMI
~r~ T Ell name was Eulalie, but
everyone in Elklon called her
] Dottle. "Old Man" I.ebrun,
£ her father, had started Elii
tou. He came down as a hunter and
trapper in the old days when the terri
tory was as primeval as was his own
Canadian frontier, but when the wild
game was pretty well hunted out and
the white emigrants and the soldiers
commenced to come he turned freight
er, ami later, when the copper camp
started at Goose Creek, he blazed a
stage route tbitber and founded the
traffic that made him rich—for a fron
tiersman. When Mrs. Lebrun died
Dottie was a chubby, big-eyed elf of
four, and so tiro women, who were few,
and the men, who had never more
than one tender side in their make-ups
in those harsh days, petted the child
and made life very sweet and radiant
as she grew. Now site was twenty,
with the eyes of a doe, so lustrous and
wondering; brown skin peeling a little
from her oval face from the whipping,
sand-spattered winds of the plains, the
form of a stately woman and the heart
of a yearning child. She had been
"through school," had taught it for a
term and was esteemed as the most
learned inhabitant of Eikton "next to
Parson Davles and Squire Beeno," and,
perhaps, Professor Swinton, who was,
however, a newcomer, aud therefore
yet on probation.
Professor Swinton "stopped" nt Le
brun's. He was a New Yorker, frank,
boyish, unaffected, gentle aud gener
ous. He laughed deprecatingly at the
"professor" idea, for he was onl.v
"principal" of the three - room school,
and he had that admirable desire to be
called by his given name that is strong
in all young, ingenuous natures. Ilia
coming had made quite a "difference"
with Eulalic, and they had come along
so well in their acquaintance that she
now called him "Mister Maurice" and
lie said "Miss Eulalie." He had told
her many wondrous things about New
York and the world that lies beyond
and apart from the sand-girt silences
of her home, of the splendor aud the
folly of the pageantry and the mock
ery, of the canon-like streets, the
glories, the squalor, the resonance and
the emptiness of the life he had left
to grow up, as he said, with the free
M'cst. Sometimes lie told her love
stories, of which she forgot to ask him
"How do you know?" and silent and
eager-eyed, like the child in the nursery
at night, she only listened and hoped
that life legends might never come to
Sin end.
If she had been a wise girl she might
have asked more questions, pertinent,
personal, intimate probes as to him
self, and then, being so frank, he night
have told her all and more than she
oould haw wished to know about
himself. But she was content to know
him as he now was in Elkton, and, so
knowing him, she said he was good to
know and to see and to hear. Some
times, when the sun was they
rode their ponies away into the short
grass, endless plateaus, that dip and
rise above the mesa walls of the little
town, sometimes they galloped through
the narrow trails of the remoter hills,
but always she listened, smiling half
sadly, half raptly, and always he told
his quaint jokes, his true tales of real
fairies and his romances of the Baby
lons she might never see.
One day he got a fat letter from the
East, and when he had read it, and
laughed over it and held up the cheek
which it brought, he ran into the hall
way and called for Miss Eulalie. She
had ridden into towu, her father said,
"to trade." Maurice went to the cor
ral and saddled his pony, it was Sat
urday, his holiday. lie galloped gaily
down the dusty road, sniffing the hot
wind and twirling his quirt like a man
with good news. lie met Eulalie in
the main street, just mounted upon
her old white pony, and waved his
letter at her.
"Aunt Von Werdon is dead. Mis
Euialio," he said, stopping and look
ing at her merrily.
"That one that gave the tea party
to the cats and kittens? But you're
sorry, ain't you, Mr. Maurice?" she
asked, wondering at his levity.
"Yes—and no. You see. she had only
two reasons for living—eats and me.
She preferred eats, and—then she was
old beyond computation—but I will say
that she did better by me than I bad
a right to expect. See? She lias left
me ?"00! I shall have money to burn."
And his eyes looked wistfully up the
heat-scourged street, with Its reeking
barrooms, its empty wooden sidewalks
and Its dreary sameness of frame
shanty stores. "Will you wait till I
cash this cheek, Miss Eulalie?" he
added, "I'd like to ride home with
you."
She rode Into the shade of the town
well and let her pony drink while he
jrent to the bank. But when he came
back she said: "It's tralu time, Mr.
Maurice" (with a pouting little grim
ace;; "you know I love to see the trains
go past. The Overland side-tracks
here, and I'd like to look at the people.
Then you might see somebody you
know."
He laughed again at her childlike
curiosity, and they paced down the
street toward the station. The Over
land whistled as they rode into the
space by the depot and down by the
side-track where the red water tank
steamed in the burning sunlight. He
thought she looked very beautiful as
they waited there, for he was accus
tomed to the rough buckskin gloves she
always woro, and he knew that the
grace which made her home-spun gown
seem picturesque and appropriate was
none of the dressmaker's art. The
choking sand swept down from the red
mesa and dusted her ebon hair as It
fluttered abroad in the blistering wind.
The little drops of perspiration that
started and trickled down her brown
cheeks made muddy streaks upon her
handkerchief as she wiped them away.
The train, groaning and trembling,
as it slowed down past them, brought
with it a tornado of dust and paper
that hid from him the sweet mouth
of the girl beside him, but when he
looked up he saw that his face was
near the window of a private ear.
Within he could see the white and sil
ver splendor of the traveling palace.
In the sconces of the walls were cut
flowers and lush vines trailing between
the windows. As the hiss of the engine
ceased he could hear the tinkling music
of a serenade that he had not heard
since he left New York.
"Let's ride up to the forward win
dow, Miss Eulalle," he said. "Some
body is playing the piano."
When they were opposite the window
they could see a woman seated at the
instrument, but as their shadows fell
across the light she rose and came,
facing them, as if to draw the shades.
Eulalic saw the lily whiteness of her
face, the groat blue eyes, the yellow
hair, the soft, light hand that rested an
instant on the window's sill. She
must have dreamed the smile, it was so
beautiful, and the voice, bell-like and
tender, as the lady raised the sash,
and beaming like the morning, said:
"Oil, Maurice, Maurice, that Is you,
isn't it?"
Eulalie had not turned her eyes to
him before Swinton was down, flushed,
eager and trembling. He held out the
end of his bridle to Eulalie and she
took it mechanically, her lips apart,
wondering as she always wondered.
The angelic face had vanished from
tlio window and Maurice had gone into
the car, but Eulalie sat there in the
furnace breath of the sun and held his
pony. She did not hear the locomotive
bell nor the voice from the platform
shouting "Ail aboard." She was yet
dreaming. But the windows slipped
silkily past her. and presently she was
staring after the rushing cars, yet won
dering if Maurice would tell her some
stories about this fairy, the first that
she had ever seen from that wonder
land of his. But though she waited
for an hour, he did not come back.
She asked the stntionmaster if he had
left tlie train. Nobody had seen him
since he and 3he bud been sitting on
their ponies together.
"The next stop east is Brussels," said
the agent. "If he gets off there he'll
be back on the night local."
So she left his pony at the depot,
rode slowly homo through the dust,
and came hack to the night local. He
did not come. He never came to Elk
ton since, and Eulalie no longer won
ders. She knows.—John H. Itaftcry, in
the Chicago Record-Herald.
ThingH the Physician Sees.
Sir Frederick Treves has spoken
wisely and truly of the romance of
medicine, viewing the subject from the
standpoint of the physician's own life
and discoveries. It has always seemed
lo us surprising that this fact has not
been more emphasised, but that which
is of tlie supremest importance to men
and women is, by an old law of pro
gress, precisely the last to which at
tention is directed, Store wonderful,
however, than this aspect of the phy
sician's life is the fact of the tragedies,
comedies and romances of which he
becomes the spectator. No one is al
lowed to see so deeply and frankly into
the hearts of people, into the very heart
of the world, as he. By the nature of
ids calling there can lie 110 secrets kept
from him, even if desired, and the
strange longing of the liutnan heart for
a confessor becomes an aid in the rev
elation which even to the priest can
never bo quite so complete. In these
days when novelists spend half their
lives in seeking "local color" and a
knowledge of the realities and condi
tions of the lives of their fellows, it is
remarkable that they have so little
sought tlie sad, the bright, the true
truth of life, which presents itself ev
ery day to tlie kind and conscientious
doctor. There is more romantic and
tragic material here going to waste—so
far as relates to chronicling—than all
the literature makers are linding else
where. This concerning the Uiehtung,
and when it comes to Wahrheit, 110
historian or psychologist has yet
dreamed of the extent to which, con
sciously or unconsciously, directly or
indirectly, sickness dictates and dom
inates the actual lives of nearly every
one of us.—Philadelphia Medical Jour
nal.
Ilolopliane Glass.
Ilolophaue glass Is a pressed glass
resembling cut glass, having vertical
prisms on the Inside for diffusing light
and horizontal prisms on the outside
for directing the light.
The largest stage In the world Is thai
of the Grand Opera House In Paris.
It Is 103 feet wide, nearly 200 feet in
depth, and eighty feet high.
| LAKES ALWAYS FROZEN OVER.
Skating the Tc.r Around on Two Roille.
of tVul.r In Oregon.
Two lakes covered with ice at all
times of tiie year have just been dis
covered in Baker County, Oregon. C.
M. Sage, of Baker City, on Sunday,
July -7. crossed two good sized lakes
in the Granite Mountains, some miies
northeast of Cornucopia, on hard
frozen ice.
Mr. Sage, with a party of friends,
Went on a hunting and pleasure trip
to the almost inaccessible mountain
peaks back of the town of Cornucopia,
in the Panhandle district. The moun
tains are high and rugged, and before
passing the timber line the explorer
must find his way through a primeval
forest. A paekborse ia the only means
of getting into this district, except to
trudge along on foot, which, to say
lit? least, is uphill business. One part
of the road is so encumbered with
fallen trees that it ia almost impossible
to get through. In order to get sup
plies to their claims, two prospectors
were obliged to out a trail through this
tangle of fallen trees, and it was by
means of this trail that Mr. Sage and
his friends were enabled to ascend the
mountains, until they ilnally discov
ered the two frozen lakes referred to.
The lakes are near the summit on the
north side of the mountain, and in or
der to reach them the party traveled
over lee and snow for a distance of
live miles.
The bodies of water are small. One
la about 130 feet across, and the other
is between COO and 700 feet in diam
eter. They are well defined lnkes, or
pools, however, covered with a thick
coating of ice, clear as crystal and as
smooth as glass, which is so thick and
strong that the exploring party did not
hesitate to ride across 011 horseback.
Mr. Sage says so far as he is able to
judge the ice on the lakes never melts,
because they are so situated between
two tall peaks that the sun's rays never
strikes them with sufficient power to
make any impression on the snow and
ice. Tltis land of perpetual snow and
ice is within a day's ride of Baiter City
by the present means of transportation,
part way on a buckboard, and the rest
on horseback. It would scarcely be
more than a ride of an hour and a half
on an electric railroad. Mr. Sage is of
the opinion that from the lay of the
country other larger and more pictur
esque lakes with perpetual ice will be
discovered.—Portland Oregoniau.
Mud Daubers.
An Interesting tenant of the farr.i Is
the mud-dauber, the best known of the
solitary wasps, whose nests are found
stuck to the rafters in the attic and
outbuildings, or to a nail in the wall
or in an old eoatsleeve behind the door.
She places several cells about an inch
long side by side or ou tiers above ail
otheV without any regard to regularity.
As she toils slie sings squeakylittle
solos iu a high key which sounds like
a tiny circular saw as it issues from
a piece of hard wood. The moment
the industrious little mason has com
pleted the cell she sets about to till
it with spiders, all of the same species,
of which it takes eighteen on an aver
age. On one of these an egg is tic
posited which soon hatches into a
grub and immediately begins to devour
the feast of paralyzed spiders. When
it has eaten all, it spins a dark-brown
covering for itself which is about trans
parent. At the proper time it breaks
through the walls of its mud house and
proudly jerks its pretty steel-blue
wings with the same graceful flirt as
did mother while she was busily en
gaged with her nest building.—Country
Life iu America.
Undregg Titles of Iloyalty.
Merabe.'s of all European royal fam-
Hies delight to travel incognito when
ever tlicy can, for it spares tliem a
great deal of tiresome etiquette, and
contributes to their comfort iu nmuy
ways. When Queen Victoria wished
to be Incognito she adopted ber title
of Countess of Balmoral. King Ed
ward, when he was Prlnee of Wales,
used the title of Earl of Chester fre
quently when ou the Continent. The
Empress Eugenie travels as the
Countess de Plerrefonds, a title chosen
from a favorite shooting lodge in the
Forest of Fontalnebleau. The King of
the Belgians is Count Ilavensteln when
he pays an informal visit to London or
any other capital where he wishes to
lie unrecognized. The Queen Regent of
Spain, who is just now enjoying her
first real holiday out of Spain for some
years, hides her identity under the title
of Countess of Toledo; the Queen of
Portugal, when she stays with her rela
tives iu the country, is tile Marqueza
de Villaeoza; and the King of Portugal
uses the incognito title of Count de
Barcellos.—London King.
Your Slittre of Money#
Have you $25.00? If you have not
you are short your per capita share
of the money circulation of the United
States, and some one has what would
be coming to you if the money that is
in circulation were equally divided.
This statement is made without reser
vation. ou the authority of the latest
report of the Treasury Department.
Another thing; you are entitled to
seven cents more than you were one
year ago, according to this same re
port, even though there has been al
lowed for an Increase of 113,000 in the
population, for in that same time there
has been an increase of more tJan
$03,000,000 In the money in circulation.
So you see you are better off than you
were a year ago—lf you get your dues.
In fact, you are getting better off nil
of the time. What has happened since
1879? The population bus Increased
fifty-eight per cent., and the money In
circulation has increased 170 per cent.,
and more than one-half of that increase
In circulation has been In gold or in
gold certificates.— New York Herald.
AUTOS HURT ROAD HOUSES.
They Are Said lo Be Driving the Horse*
uien Off the Country Roads.
There are dark days ukoad for many
of the road houses on the principal
highways leading out from this city in
all directions, and according to the pro
prietors, the trouble is due to the auto
mobiles largely.
Itoad houses first came into being
when the highways were used by trav
elers in stage coaches or on horseback.
Many of the houses built at that pe
riod are still standing and are well
known landmarks. When the railroads
came into existence some of the road
houses went out of business.
A few years ago when cycling was a
craze prosperous times came for the
wayside inns. The old-time houses
were not able to accommodate nil the
people who came their way and hun
dreds of new Inns were erected. Then
cycling went out of fashion over night
and many innkeepers found expensive
establishments on their hands with no
patronage except that derived from
the driving public.
Road driving began to pick up a year
or no ago, and the road house proprie
tors began to take a roseate view of
the future as their receipts increased.
There was more money in one driver
than in several cyclists. Rut at this
turn of the tide of the hotel owners' af
fairs the automobiles began to whizz
and snort past their places.
Th? result has been to scare the road
driver away, the innkeepers say. Men
have either abandoned driving alto
gether or have sought the back roads
or highways, where they are free from
the annoyances of the automobiles.
Their patronage is lost to the hotel
keepers. The owners of the nutos give
them 110 compensating patronage.
The proprietor ot' one road house sat
on the front veranda of his place the
other night having absolutely nothing
to do. For many years his house was
a popular resort in Queens County. In
the summer time it was always
thronged with visitors. In speaking of
the conditions that. Have overtaken
men of his business he said:
"Wo had a good thing of it when cy
cling was all the go. When that died
out we missed the cyclists, hut driving
picked up, and we could have made
out on what we got from the horse
men. But the automobllists are put
ting us out of business.
"They have driven the horsemen
from the roads, and they themselves
seldom stop within twenty miles of
their starting place. The cold facj is
that road house business is a thing of
the past.
"My lease expires next year and
down comes my sign. It has been
hanging up there for three generations.
This house has a great reputation. My
father mademoney here and my grand
father before him. I am able to give
iietter accommodations than cither of
them, hut there is no trade to cater to."
—New York Sun.
International Telephony.
Paris is the ccutre of an international
telephone wire net; its extreme ends
are London, Hamburg, Berlin, and (in
connection with the French-Italian
line about to be opened) Turin and
Milan. The Paris-Berlin line is the
longest, with about 025 miles of wire.
The Paris-Hamburg line Is about the
same. The distance from Paris to
Turin, measured by an air line, is
about 375 miles, and thnt between
Paris and Milan about 470 miles.
But all these lines are eclipsed in
length by that between Paris and Col
ogne, not by the direct line, but by in
direct connection, often rendered nec
essary by breaks in the other service.
In such cases a person in Paris de
siring to speak to Cologne is connected
via Berlin. This roundabout way in
creases the wire distance about 375
miles, making the total about 1000
miles.
The Cologne Gazette states that this
does not impair the distinctness of the
message, and no loss of time is noted
In using this increased distance.
Fatul ToHSiug In a ISlanket.
The Kent Coroner opened an inquest
at the hospital at Sliorncliffe camp on
the body of William Foden, a private
in the North Staffordshire Militia. The
evidence showed that the deceased's
barrack room companions tossed him
in a blanket and he fell on the floor,
sustaining severe injuries to his head,
and death resulting from choking while
unconscious. The Coroner said there
was no question as to the cause of
death, but it appeared that the de
ceased's companions were engaged in a
pastime which was prohibited by the
rules governing the barrack room, and
therefore every one of them was doing
an illegal act and in consequence guilty
of manslaughter. He adjourned the in
quest for the production of the stand
ing orders and the attendance of the
officer responsible for the conduct of
the room.—London News.
Polish Jews For Cauaria.
Tlio attention of passengers using
Paddington station is frequently at
tracted by groups of Polish Jews—men,
tvomen and children—who are being
"assisted" to Canada with the funds
provided by the late Baron Hirseh.
They come by steamer to London
docks, are conveyed to Paddington in
omnibuses and afterward sent on to
Liverpool. They frequently have to
spend several hours at Paddington. and
two waiting rooms are set apart for
their accommodation. The company
contemplates erecting new waiting
rooms for their special use. The people
are miserably poor, of weak physique,
and altogether are not the class wbieh
one would Imagine are most wanted in
Canada.—London Mail.
'An elephant's sense of smell la so
delicate that the animal can scent a
human being at a distance of ICOC
ItttU.
FORESTRY A /IEWPROFESSION
OFFERS FINE OPPORTUNITIES
• —■——
IT IS IN MANY RESPECTS AN IDEAL PURSUIT . -.
IT AFFORDS FREE AND HEAL THFUL OUTDOOR LIFE
IT IS NOT CROWDED /.
/ T PROVIDES CHANCES FOR WEAL TH .•„
IT DEALS WITH NATURE S GREATEST BEAUTIES
1
SB NEW profession has been
f wl °P ene d in the United
ft Mg IrJ States. It deals with a
I tA ft] subject that is not only
jj ini Kj] vital, but one whose vast
ftj^J| Importance to both per
lixS;Sail soual and national inter
ests has become thoroughly recognized.
It is the profession of forestry.
Of course, there have been forestry
experts in this country for many years.
But most of them were Government
employes In one way or another, and
Government control of forests meant
generally only the conserving of tracts
that were set aside by State or Federal
authority, to be Immune from the lum
berman and to be preserved as parks
and forest reserves.
Until the new science shaped Itself
slowly out of the war of conflicting in
terests, forestry in the United States,
as interpreted by the public, practically
meant only the question of saving
American trees from the axe. But
while all this superficial fighting went
on between lumbermen and their sup
porters on one side, and idealists and
theorists on the other, the true science
was shaping itself.
Young men, some sent by the Gov
ernment, others studying on their own
account, were learning in Europe what
real forestry was in the lands where,
despite ages of lumbering, the forests
still stand thick and beautiful.
In the past few years these men have
been returning to tell America how to
combine profitable cutting with profit
able preservation, aud with the knowl
edge that shows forest owners how to
draw income from their property and
yet keep it, In other words, how to eat
their cake and have it too, the new
commercial profession of forestry has
become an important and lucrative one.
In many respects it is an ideal pur
suit. It offers unequalled opportunity
for living a free and healthful outdoor
life. It deals with nature's greatest
beauties. It is a profession that is not
crowded. It offers chances for wealth,
since the trained eye of a forester can
see chances in the wilderness which
the untrained man, and even the
trained but unscientific woodsman,
would not guess. It Is a business that
promises ample salary, for the forester
can show his employers where they
can save or earn thousands of dollars
that without him would be lost.
While the American forester must
perfect himself in his science by study
ing European forestry, American con
ditions differ so radically from those
of Europe that forestry in the United
States Is a profession of its own, and
the American has little to fear from
his older colleagues on the other side.
Henry S. Graves, superintendent of
working plans of the Department of
Agriculture, explains this by saying
that the American forester must direct
his efforts, not to the immediate intro
duction of European methods, but to
devising systems which can be adopt
ed by land-owners at once, and which
are capable of development as the con
ditions of the market allow them. In
many cases these systems will differ
radically from any practiced In Europe.
A great field where practical forest
ers are needed badly and at once in
America Is In the vast woodlands
owned or controlled by paper manu
facturing concerns. Many of them
are confronted with the problem of a
coming loss of their source of wood
pulp. Their one hope is to Introduce
such a system of lumbering that they
can cut successive crops of wood every
twenty or thirty years; that is, to plant
trees aud aid young trees now In the
sections where they are lumbering, so
that by the time they have cut their
way through their property new forests
shall have grown up in the old sections
There are millions of acres of land
devoted to trees for wood pulp manu
facture. There are more millions de
voted to lumbering, where practically
/lie same conditions prevail—that is,
the owners realize that they must con
serve forests if they expect to get any
future benefit from their property. A
great proportion of these woods are on
land that may never he available for
anything else. Consequently, If lum
bering is done with no provision for
new growth of trees, the investments
will be wiped out the moment the last
tree is cut down.
The State of New York now holds in
reserves 1,1011,000 acres or forest lands
in the Adirondacks, and is acquiring
more as fast as appropriations can be
obtained. At present the law prohibits
cutting of any kind, and the system of
forestry is confined to protecting the
forests from fire and theft. But in
time it will become absolutely neces
sary to cut down a proportion of the
older trees, not for profit Kiecessarily,
but because the science of forestry in
cludes the thinning of forests in order
to give the majority of the trees the
opportunity for development that is de
nied to them by the excessive growth
of the big and aged trees.
It is not only the product from the
forest that Interests the owners to-day.
They have discovered that if they
leave the small trees when lumbering
they can sell the lumbered tracts to
sportsmen at high prices, providing the
cutting has been done so wisely as to
leave real woods. To do this the serv
ices of the forester are indispensable.
The American lumberman, as a rule
knows all about the best methods of
cutting, but he knows nothing about
conserving.
Scientific forestry has received a
great impetus in the Inst year from the
preserves that have been established
by such men as W. C. Whitney, George
Vanderbilt and Dr. Seward Webb, and
from the work of foresters like Gilford
Plnchot.
Mr. Whitney has a great tract of 68,-
000 acres ia the Adirondacks, in which
be is working out the problems of for
estry and game preservation. Ho has
already introduced moose, and at pres
ent W. C. Harris, the Ichthyologist, is
'studying the problem of lish supply
there for him. Besides his own forest
ers, of whom he has a regiment, the a,
foresters of the United States Govern
ment have been studying his tract and
have laid out a method of conservative
lumbering. This was done in
ance with an offer made by the De- *
partment of Agriculture to all owners,
public and private, of forest lands, un
der which the United States authorities
volunteered to make studies of certain
tracts which presented favorable op
portunities to illustrate forest manage
ment, prepare plans for the work and
to supervise the execution of them.
The owners need merely to pay the
necessary expenses of the Federal em- j
ploye assigned to the work. /
Dr. Webb also had his tract, which /
contains about 40,000 acres, examined /
by the Government. The Government |
experts went through the woods with j
hatchets on the face of which the in!- /'
tials "U. S." were cut. Every tree that |
was selected as a proper one for felling I
was blazed with this below the stump, /
and the lumbermen had orders to chop /
down no tree unless it was so marked. L
The results of the introduction of t
scientific methods were surprising. The
net cost to the owner of going through
the Webb tract and marking the trees
was $543.7 i). Among the wasteful
methods discovered in the tract and
checked by the examination was that
of leaving high stumps. The lumber J
men do not care to cut the trees near
the ground, because the work is much
harder aud tires their backs. By care
ful measurement, the foresters demon
strated that on a tract of 40,000 acres
the net loss from leaving high stprape
was S4BOO, which could be saved read
ily each year.
They also drew up a plan for cutting
the tops instead of leaving them in the
woods. As u rule, the lumbermen lop
off from four to twelve feet of the tops,
and this debris always has been one of
the great sources of forest fires. Lum
bermen have objected to carrying t t- 1
fops out because, they declared, the?
were unsalable waste and represented
nothing but loss, and that consequent
ly it would be ruinous to go to the ex.
trn expense of transporting them.
The foresters showed that the tops
that were left in the woods of a 40,000-
acre tract would be worth S3BOO. Thus
Improvident lumbering not only had
caused a constant menace from fire,
but actually thousands of dollars had
been left in the woods to rot each year.
Thus, with the introduction of prac
tical foresters, the problem of the for
ests will be In away to be solved satis
factorily and practically In the United j
States. Lumbering need not be prohib
ited, but merely guided wisely, and
there will be no more danger of Amer
ican lands being denuded of forests.—
New York Sun.
Ethics of Consultations. . >
The utility of consultation has oftXn H
been questioned on the score that thjV
meuu little or nothing for the patient
The practitioner in a difficult case is
supposed to need indorsement for his
course, and he is said to obtain it in the
unqualifiedly approving verdict of his
counsellor. It Is further claimed that ■
tile true ethics of the profession admit
of no other alternative.
From the patient's standpoint this
is true enough, and is as it should be IH
in view of the necessity of preserving IH
confidence in the medical attendant
The consultants have, on the other H
hand, every opportunity to differ in
their private conference; but it is ob- fH
viously unnecessary to do so in the
presence of the family. Any disagree-
ment that may exist as to diagnosis H
and treatment should be suitably ad-
justed before a conjoint verdict is ren- (H
dered. If this course is impossible ,wch
one concerned should give a sepal-ate H
opinion and allow the patient oJkLa H
friends either to choose what suits '
them best, or seek other advice. Tlnderal
no circumstances should such
views be offered until after the freostlH
possible interchange of views in
consulting room.-Medlcal Record. (H|
A Now Use For Paper.
Taper gloves and stockings are nowlH
being manufactured in Europe. As td H
the manner in which the former artjH
made little is known, but the stockingjH
have been carefully examined by
perts, aud they are loud in tlielr praisJH
of them. Let no one assume, they
that these stockings, because they
made of paper, will only last u
days, for they will really last alinojH
as long as ordinary stockings.
The reason, they point out, rA i u lH
cause the paper of which jfr
made was during the process of
facture transformed into a
closely resembling wool, and was
woven and otherwise treated as
nary wool. The price of these
stockings Is low, which is
since paper Is much cheaper th-a cciiH
ton or wool. ■