A CHUM'S PRAYER# BY THEODOBE COBEBTS. God give them luck (for strength so often fails)— Luck to dodge death—burst shell and flying hoot; God made their hands swift iu the work that comes, : Their tunics bullet-proof. When the smoke puffs along the fronting steep, ) When the guns wheel and doubt rides down the line, Let the high courage of our race call up These belted friemls of mine. And when "lights out" naj sounded through the camp Bring them, in sleep, the peace they used to know; Let them forget, 'til dawn, the weary march, The hunger, and the foe. —The Criterion. ;; The Cradle jj it or the Grave. I it F sritrw'W'W'W'WTtrw'W'WT'r MRS. ARMSTRONG'S modest little koine was ablaze with light. The proud lady was giving a small dance to cel ebrate her only son's homecoming from college; and Teddy, why he was the happiest young fellow iu the world! Aud why not? Had he not just emerged from the university with fly ing colors, and was lie not about to ask the girl of his heart to gladden his hoartstone for life? His mother had said to him during the day: "Don't be too sanguine, Teddy, for Helen has been accepting attentions from Mr. Hawtrey during the last few months, and he is rich and world-weary, and just the sort of man to fascinate a young girl fond of flat tery and position." "Helen loves me, I'm sure," replied confident Ted, "and, besides, she would not sell herself." "Well, my dear, I hope you are not to lie disappointed, hut the ways of the girl-of-the-period are beyond me. You remember Mabel Coulter?" "Oh, Mabel was a flirt." broke in Ted, "antl it was not to bo expected 1 hat she would marry the man she had led on; but Helen—l only want her word that she'll wait until I've made my future sure. She's true blue!" As for the young lady herself, she felt sure that Teddy Armstrong would propose that night; and, though she confessed that her heart was in a state of commotion when site thought of him, still it would he nwful nice to be Mrs, Bruee Hawtrey aud live in the big mansion, have all sorts of luxuries and travel in Europe. And Mr. Hawtrey. He was a wid ower, old enough to he Helen's father, ttud was voted to lie something of a cad. "The little Vernon filly," he had remarked, "has lots of go, and a- young wife would he a novel plaything, now that my clubs and life in general are getting to be somewhat of a bore." The guests had all arrived and every thing was all jolly. Helen Vernon, Mr. Hawtrey and Ted were covertly v.ateheil by all, as gossip had it that both men were "dead set" on winning the pretty hello of M . One rotund dowager leaned towards her neighbor and remarked: "Teddy is so young and Hawtrey so old that it seems a race between the cradle and tlie grave," accompanying her words with it mirthless laugh that made the sentimental young matron whom she addressed, aud who hoped that young Armstrong would he victor, nervous. Hawtrey, who, to do hint justice, was not so near the grave as the old gossip Implied, took more of Helen's dances than good form allows, and also assumed an air of proprietorship that made the younger man wild. He forgot everything, ttud resolved im petuously to have it out with Hawtrey, iiuite improperly forgetting that the blase gentleman was his mother's guest and entitled to every courtesy. After ids rival's second dance with Helen, Teddy approached him aud said with u sort of challenge in his voice: 1 "Come upstairs, Hawtrey. I have some capital cognac in niy rooms. I'd like your opinion of it." "Done, my boy," replied the older man suavely. Scarcely luid they reached his rooms when TctUly began hotly: "Now see here, Mr. Hawtrey—" But he got no farther. Hawtrey placed one ltaud on the fiery hoy's shoulder and observed coolly: "I know what you would say; bit', let us not be Impolite or liasty. Sbe's mine if she will or she's yours if she will. Go iu and win iter, if you can. Remember, I'll show you no quarter '■nil's fair in love."" 5 "But she loves me. she's only dazzled by your money,'' asserted Ted, with amazing frankness. "X don't care whom she loves; it is Whom she will marry that interests 1 ne," answered the older man, with a cool stare. • "By heavens, would you tnarry a girl that only " "I would marry any girl in whom I look a notion, if the mood pleased me. Dove is nil old fashioned commodity. Ask Helen, Mr. Armstrong, when yon get a chance; 1 mean in, during tlii, next dance." Boor Teddy was stunned. Ills iileab were pure, and he vor.t properly re garded honor, love ttud rcspeel as a lioly trinity. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike him. " 'All's fair in love," yott say." he re marked curtly, and strode front lis room, raying in a very low voice as he pas,el his big mastiff, who wn: dozing on a rug. "Watch him. l'like!" The next wait:: was half ended whet Ted strolled up to Miss Vernon, nil: said in a lone of mock surprise: "Why, Helen, yon of all people, to b eHtiug out a dance!" Tlu> pretty girl blushed and looked a bit annoyed. "Mr. Hawtrcy engaged the number; evidently he has forgotten ate," she replied. "Finish it tvith meS" "With pleasure." Hawtrey did not appear again that evening, and many were the comments because of his strange disappearance; but Teddy looked supremely happy, for the girl of his heart had said "Yes." The girls chaffed Helen a bit in the dressing room because her rich cava lier had deserted his principal partner; but the young lady did not seem In the least angry; in fact, she appeared, as one pert damsel said, "deadly su perior." After the last guest had gone, Ted bounded upstairs four steps at a time and burst into the room. Duke drew a long breath of relief and removed the earnest regard with which he had been favoring Hawtrey, who had not apparently moved from his chair— had not dared to move, in fact. "Why, Hawtrey, are you hero yet? Every one thought you had gone and wondered why," said the young man, affecting all the surprise possible, while a victorious twinkle played in his eyes. But nawlrey was game. He never flinched, but replied in his cool, color less drawl; "Really, I did not know I was of so much importance. The truth is that this little book is so interesting, and your brandy so excellent, that I de cided not to leave this comfortable spot." "Hope Duke didn't annoy you?" pointedly from Ted. "Not in the least. He seems a faith ful dog." "He is." "Good night, Mr. Armstrongl" "Good night, Mr. Hawtrey!" Soon as the door had closed on Hawtrey, Ted grabbed Duke by the forelegs, and man and dog executed the maddest and merriest dance on record. Then, hugging ids dumb slave, Ted cried: "You watched him all right, didn't you, old hoy? Well, you saved my life, perhaps; so lie there on the rug or anywhere and snooze all night. The stable Is too good for your dogship after this." The next day the engagement of Miss Helen Vernon and Mr. Theodore Arm strong was announced, and In the same sheet might he seen a few lines that read: "Mr. Bruee Hawtrey leaves for New Y'ork to-day, en route for Eu rope." "Hawtrey told me, Heleu," explained Ted, later 011, while both were laugh ing over the incident, "that all's fair in love, so I took him at his Word." "I hated him ever since the day ho spoke of me as 'Ally,' and was only waiting for a chance to refuse him. I wouldn't have had him, anyway," replied Helen. "Well, Duke and I weren't taking any chances," laughed the doe's mas ter.—Now York News. The Eiiitor'fl Joy. Tln ro is but 0110 more week of single blessedness for the editor of this pa per. A young woman has consented to take our name and share with us li? burdens and joys of life. She is Miss Elsie Kitzmilior, youngest daugh ter of Mrs. Lavinia Kltzmiller. Her father was Frank Kitzmilior, a vet eran of the Civil War, who died one year ago. The time set for the ceremony is next Wednesday at - o'clock in the afternoon at the home of Mrs. Kitz milior. A number of friends have been invited—but not nearly all. The house would not hold nearly one-third of all those "we" should have been pleased to see present. (This is not the editor we—"we having assumed a new siguHieunce.) But there will be enough, we hope, to till the house and see that the job is well done. There will be no attendants. "We" will be the whole show. There will be no tears—every one will bo glad to see us (editorially us) finally married. There will be a happy handsome couple, the handsomeness being contributed by tlio other half. No one's life is complete who lives alone. No, of course not. To develop into a surly,, crabbed, soul-shriveled old bachelor, or dwindle away an old maid full of vinegar and fool notions— what unhappier fnteT To form a com plete and useful lit'ev marriage is a necessity as well as a luxury. Yet these considerations are mere side is sues. The first consideration is to find some one you can love, respect, ad min'. Love is apart logic. It is capricious. It frowns upon wealth, tramples over differences of age. breaks down any established rules of precedence and astounds the coolly systematic. We are ft. Time passes : slowly. Highland (Kair.) Yidette. Turned Tubles on Tailor. ! < >ne frequently hears <f a tailor suing i a customer on an overdue bill for I clothes, but it. iiS rather unusual for a J customer to file an action against his tailor to recover money paid for badly fitting clothi's. This is what a certain retired sea captain has done. V firm of tailors was summoned the* I other day for the price of :* coat add vest. The plaintiff stated that lie had ordered the clothes, but was dissatisfied with the lit. As the firm refused to alter the garments to his satisfaction he brought an action to recover the money, which ho had paid in advance. London Correspond ence New York Herald. • | Trmnway Urakei. . It seems to he Indisputable that with 5 ! suitable power brakes half a dozen I recent tramway accidents would have s been avoided. Effective brakes of sev- I cral types can be obtained, and though the choice may not be altogether an ; easy matter, it can and It ought to be made. -Tramway and Hallway World. Women and Love. By Lilian Bell. msspmsna ONDEIt often arises in me if men know that so few women I I that we might almost say no woman who Is perfectly happy B a I ever seeks a career? No happily married or rightly loved e JT I woman ever seeks a career. The desire for a career for a B \/K f I woman is an acknowledgment of heart failure. 8 JfjC I This Is practically because we have so fow homes In Amer- I M lea. We have private hotels where each family eats and sleeps, hut where family life and smooth housekeeping are unknown. If I were a woman seeking a career, I would go to some of my rich and prosperous friends and offer to t.urn the house Into a home. 1 have only recently learned of the term "working housekeeper." I like It. There should be more of them. It is distinctly the career for an unmarried woman who loves love and home and children, and, above all, housekeeping. Housekeeping Is the most fascinating occupation In the world. Something new Is always appearing in somebody's house which would go so well in yours! The loneliness of the unloved does not mean that a woman is lonely bcenuse she is not loved by anybody. Most women are loved by tbe wrong some bodies. Nor does it mean that women are lonely because they are unloved by their own families, or—Hea\ on forgive me for betraying so many woman's secrets!—unloved by their own husbands who think they are loving devotedly. But tbe most of women's loneliness consists in being loved uncompreheudlngly —uncompreheusively.—Harper's Bazar. JZ> The Mission of Commerce. By Grover Cleveland. ORACTICAL business activity can bo mingled with enlighten ment and social betterment, and commercial organizations have already woven them together. They are estopped from disclaiming their obligation to continue the work. It rests with them not only to eularge and strengthen by increased en terprise the fabric they have thus produced, but to make it brighter and more beautiful by adding to it a larger infusion of that which touches the welfare of mankind in every moral aud social phase and condition. It may justly be sakl that commerce, by what it has already done, by what lies yet in its path undone, and by what it has been able to do, lias created for itself a mission which cannot bo fulfilled by increased effort directed solely to gaining more business ndvantnges. This mission does not exact an abatement of commercial struggle and competition; but it so far fixes their limit as to enjoin that with such struggle and competition there shall also be willing co-operation in nil endeavor to promote every beneficial purpose which commerce can draw witliiu its sphere. Commercialism is a word we often hear in these days when an attempt Is made to describe certain political aud economic phases of our national ten dencies, which are greatly lamented by good people who are solicitous for our country's welfare. It lias always seemed to 1110 that the moaning attached to this word lacks deflniteness. It it Is used to define a desire to accumulate wealth not only for the gratification of individual wishes, but in full recogni tion of the duties aud obligations to others which the possession of wealth Im poses, wo need not complain of such use. With our conception of what commerce Is and ought to be, we have, how ever, cause of complaint when the word "commercialism" Is used as descriptive of sordid money getting. The Teacher's True Recompense By O. S. Marden, @NLY a small part of a true teacher's recompense goes to him in his check or monthly payment for services. There is an impalpable reward for a successful Instructor with which the coarse dollar cannot compare. The consciousness that he has given his pupil something that will make his home brighter, his ideals finer, his life hap pier, brings with it an uplift of heart which is of more value to him than many times the amount of his salary. The realiza tion that the pupil feels that something of worth has touched him, that his ambition has been aroused is payment, indeed. What is money, compared with the consciousness that you have opened a little wider the door of some narrow life, that you have let in the life of oppor tunity, have shown the hoy or girl that tliero Is something in existence worth striving for? What is salary compared with tlio thought that you have made the dufl boy feel, perhaps for the first time, that there is possible success for him, that he is not quite the dunce lie has been taught to believe himself? What is financial reward pitted against the glow of hope that has been kindled In the breast of the youth who never "before was encouraged to do his best? Is (Here anything more precious in this world than to gain the confidence, love and friendship of the boys and girls under your care, who pour out their secrets to you, and tell you freely of their hopes aud ambitions? As a rule, a teacher's salary is pitifully mean and small when compared with the magnitude of the task entrusted to him—the shaping of tiie destinies of thousands of young lives—and it is greatly to tiie honor of the teaching liody (hat so tnany of Its members give of their very best to their pupils without any thought f the wholly inadequate pecuniary compensation thoy receive. A conscientious, successful teacher performs for his pupils and his country a service whose value can never be measured by dollars and cents, .success. jgr Harvests asid HfgSi Finance. B>i Alexander D. Noyes. SN the progress oil contemporary finance the midsummer months of each successive year arc a period of singular interest. It Is then that there come into public view the forces over which neither human foresight nor human ingenuity can exercise tiie least control, and yet which are fundamental in their in fluence on National prosperity. Of all the wealth produced each year, in the modern as in the ancient world, the greater part is that which grows out of the ground; and this is precisely tlie- portion of the world's annual production which fs wholly subject to the caprices of nature. It needs hut a moment's consid eration to see how vitally the financial fortunes of a people depend 011 this question of the crops. Complete and general harvest failure, in a highly de veloped industrial Slate, means, first, the loss of a year's income to the farm community. Next, and as a natural consequence, it means the curtailment of that community's buying power, and lienec a large reduction in the purchase ■or manufactured goods, But tills must also, in the third place, involve sudden disappearance of dew '1 for transportation, both front and to the farm com munities. If there 's no wheat to send to market, one-fourth of the business of the grain-carrying railway disappears; if there is no demand for city mer chandise 011 the "farms, freight truffle in the opposite direction will be deel mated. But tlio railway which fails to cam its dividend will not 111 such a case be the only sufferer. Loss of expected income by the farmer, and by the < numerous trades which thrive with his prosperity, means diminished savings, !■ decreased resources in tin; hanks, and hence reduction of capital available for use In financial enterprise. It is a well-known fact that, the enormous borrow ing operations in our Eastern markets, through which the huge financial schemes of the last three years have been carried out, were made possible by the placing of AVestern bank credits at the disposal of Wall Street. These credits were chiefly the net result of profitable crops. Even this does not tell all the story. Shortage in crops would he followed, necessarily, by falling exports, and falling exports foreshadow reduced com mand over foreign capital. With all the extraordinary recent progress of the United States In her exportation of manufactured goods and of mine and forest products, it still remains true that our agricultural shipments make up sixty-three per cent, of our annual export trade. In other words, harvest fail urn jeopardizes simultaneously the fortunes of the railways and banks, aud also the country's foreign credit. Alike in ltlOl and 1002. immense sums of capital were borrowed in Europe, during the spring, for use in the costly financial operations of the period. With abundant crops and consequent abundant exports, our own banks can take up such foreign loans in the autumn and carry the load themselves. But if crops are short and the foreign crcd- I itor calls for settlement, the American banks must pay in gold, depleting their ' own reserves at a moment when large reserves are needed. This is what ' happened a year ago. Human sagacity is absolutely unable to predict the situation. It can only wait to see what the farm weather of a summer season brings to pass, and adapt itself, as it best may, to the resultant condi tions.— Forum. ALARM CLOCK FOR THE DEAF. They Don't Hoar the Rattle. But There's Something Elite Doing. An alarm clock for deaf mutes is the novel invention of Elzn Cretzer, a deaf mute in the employ of the Washoe smelting plant, who resides at 15 Birch street. How to awake at a certain hour has long been a problem among these unfortunate people, and In Mr. Cretzer's invention the solution has been found. Of course, the ordinary alarm clock lias been useless. Mr. Cretzer, who is an ingenious fellow, is a water and flume tender at the Washoe smelter. His work necessi tates his rising at an early hour in the morning, and as he lias no means of awakening he has lost many days of work by being late. He accordingly set about inventing an apparatus by which lie could always be on time. The dropping of a pillow on tlio sleep ing person is the awakening agent, and It is operated so that the pillow falls at tlio desired time. An ordinary alarm clock is placed in a cigar box which fits it closely. It is then nailed to the wall at tile head of the lied. A string connects the clapper of tiie alarm clock with an ordinary spring mouse trap fastened to the top of the cigar box. By a system of small pulleys and screw eyes a pillow is fastened to the end of a string and pulled to tiie ceil fng directly above the bed. An ingeni ous arrangement connects the other end of the string to the mouse trap. The clock is sot, and when the alarm goes olf the string attached to the bell clapper springs the mouse trap and re leases the pillow, which drops on the persons sleeping in the bed beneath. ''When it does not 'tit me, it hits my wife," Mr. Cretzer wrote 011 a piece of paper, "and so I never miss a day any more."—Anaconda Standard. He Convinced Her. "Yes." said the young man, as he threw himself at (lie feet of llio pretty school teacher, "I love you, and would go to the world's end for you." "You could not go to the world's end for me, George. The world, or the earth, as it is called, is round like a ball, slightly flattened at the poles. One of tiie first lessons in elementary geography Is devoted to the shape of tiie globe. You must have studied it when you were a boy." "Of course I did, but " "And it is no longer a theory. Cir cumstances have established the fact." "I know, but what I meant was that I would do auytlilng to please you. Ah, Angelina, if you but knew the aching void " "There is no such thing as a void, George. Nature abhors a vacuum. But, admitting that there could be such a thing how could the void you speak of be a void if there was an ache in it?" "I meant to say that my life will he lonely without you; that you arc my daily thought and nightly dream. I would go anywhere to be with you. If you were in darkest Africa or at the North Pole I would fly to you. I——" "Fly! It will be another century be fore man can fly. Even when the laws of gravitation are successfully over come there still remains, says a late scientific authority, the difficulty of a balance " "Well, at all events," exclaimed the youth, "I can get over that! I've a pretty fair balance in the bank, and I want you to be my wife. There!" "Well, George, since you put it in that light I will."—Chicago Journal. What the Squaw Sntcl. Major Pratt, the United States Army ottieer who is in charge of the Carlisle Indian School, admits that many of his graduates who return to tribal life fall into Indian ways again. There fore lie is doing all lie can to prevent the educated Indians from going back to tiie reservations. He tells of an incident lie saw at a Western Indian agency. A squaw en tered a trader's store, wrapped in a blanket, pointed at a straw hat, and asked; "How muchee?" "Fifty cents," said the merchant. "How muchee?" she asked again, pointing at another article. The price was quoted, and was followed by an other query of "How muchee?" Then she suddenly gazed blandly at the merchant and asked, mildly: "Do you not regard such prices as extortionate for articles of such pal paldy and unmistakably inferior qual ity? Do you not really believe Hint a reduction in your charges would materially enhance your pecuniary profits, as well as lie ethically proper? I beg you to consider my suggestion." She was a graduate of the Carlisle Indian School.—New York Times. Mr. Carnegie's Treep. "At the corner of Ninety-second street and Fifth avenue. Now York City," says Arboriculture, "Mr. Car negie Is building a palatial mansion, and has brought from the farms, many miles away, some score or more of fully-grown forest trees. A few are Cottonwood, which arc alive. Some are elm, twelve inches diameter, which may possibly survive. The others are sugar maple, from twelve to sixteen inches diameter and sixty feet high. All the branches have been retained. The holes dug to receive tlio roots were seven feet diameter; main feeding roots, ol' course, were sacrificed, the remaining stumps of large roots hewu off three feet from the tree. All the skill which money could command has been exerted in trying to preserve these trees. Several which died the first year have been removed, some are now dead, while not one has a healthy appearance, and will succumb within a brief period." l*aper Button* Now. A scheme for the manufacture of paper buttons is being put fouvard in San Francisco. These buttons, say the promoters of tiie scheme, will be cheap er than the bone and inelal ones, quite as serviceable aud of as good an up peanuica XShs Funny ~.JT Me Life.) Tim Plilloaoplver. The world, it is a picture book; I turn a page each day, J And find, whene'er I pause to look, J Some scene that's grave or gay. In spring time there be tender flowers; In summer comes the rose; The autumn fends, with frugal powers, Us 'gainst the wintry snows. And though the present view be sad, Despair shall not engage My heart. I'll hope for something glad .When next I turn a page. —Washington Star. Don't Want to Be. "Few men are as good as tbcy pre tend to be." "Well, what of It? Few men want to be."—Judge. The Business Department. "Suppose you were to discover the north pole; of what use would it be?" "Oh, I don't trouble myself with v practical details of that sort; I leave I all that to the manager of my lecture tour."—Washington Star. Mennu reineur. "Which do you think should bo pioro highly esteemed, money or brains?" "Brains," answered Senator Sor ghum. "But nowadays the only way a man ean convince people that he has brains is to get money."—Washington Star. Tlio \Vli Stan. "One-half of the world," I say to my wise friend, "doesn't know how the other half lives." "Then," concludes my wise friend with an air of deliberation, "onc-lialf the world hasn't any neighbors."— Judge. In Politics For Ills Health. "Fladger has got an office at last, X has he? I always 1 knew he never r went into polities for Ids health." "That's where you wrong him. The office ho asked for and got is a consul ship at a German watering place."— Chicago Bccord-Herald. iutletlt Pro.. F.tl, The Parson—"lf you will return to your home I'm sure your father, will run to meet you and fall on your neck." The Prodigal—"l hope not. The old man weighs three hundred pounds."— New York Journal. Si rates?. Mrs. Homer—"How do you manage to get your carpets so clean! Do you hire a professional carpet beater?" v Mrs. Neighbors—"No; my husband L beats them, and I always do some- / thing to make him angry just before be begins the job."—Chicago News. Indefinite. "The language Is so ambiguous," In sisted the observant foreigner. "For instance?" I remarked, with the rising inflection of Interrogation. "When a political job is spoken of how is one to know whether it is a clerkshij) or a contract?"—ruck. A Trying Position. Smithkins—"l hear you're working for a 'collection agency' now. Have you any trouble collecting?" Jenkins—"Oh! It's something fierce! The boss owes me three weeks' salary already, and I've threatened to put it into the hands of a 'collection agency.' "—Puck. Kiijovabl.. "How did you enjoy the automobile parade ?" "Very much. Indeed," answered the timid pedestrian. "It was very grati fying to see so many automobile pro prietors going along peacefully, all in honor bound not to run over the peo ple in front ol' tliem."—Washington Star. Tliu. Spoke tli. Cynic. "Curious tiling about a man witli a watch is that if you sec him tuup it out and look at it. and you ask him two seconds later what time It Is, lie never remembers. He lias to look at it again." "Yes; I've noticed that lie'll always do it—if his watch is a flue .one."— Chicago Tribune. Tl Jill|llol. j, "Are you fond of birds?" site asked innocently, as slie stood at tlie piano fumbling tile music. "I dearly love them," lie replied with never a shadow of suspicion. Then she ran her slender fingers over the keys and began to sing: "Oil, ! Would I Were a Bird." A new nest will lie built in the I spring.—Chicago News.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers