ANTITHESIS. Creiuur s from mind their character derive, Mind-marshabed are they, and mind-made; If with a mind corrupt one speak or act, J1 iin doth pain follow, As the wheel the beast of burden's foot. Creatures from mind their character derive, Mind-marshalled are they, and iniud-made; If with pare mind one speak or act, Him doth happiness follow. Even as a shadow that declineth not. Even as rain An 111-thatched house doth penetrate, So penetrateth passion An heart ill trained in thought. Even as rain doth penetrate not A well-thatched house, So passion penetrateth not An heart well trained In thought. From the East of Asia Magazine, trans lated from the l'ull by A. J. Edmunds. AAAA AAAAAA AAAA < THE YOUNG I J REPORTER'S £ DJLEMMA. ► > WTT TV VVVW TVTW "Sheridan," remarked the city editor, with his accustomed colorless brevity, without glancing up from his desk, "I want this story in by 3 o'clock." He p..tiled a slip of paper across his desk almost instinctively in the direction of uo young reporter and promptly sub merged his identity in tho ever-present problem of news values. Sheridan rose from his seat at the re porters' table, and, crossing the room, picked up the bit of paper. It was an easy assignment, being merely an in terview with a charming young society woman concerning her alleged engage ment to an English duke, but the ath letic young reporter suddenly turned white and leaned heavily against the editorial desk for support. The city editor, dimly conscious that something was wrong, came to the sur face and realized that instead of a hanging of a (joor, followed by the ab sence of Sheridan, the said Sheridan remained leaning heavily against the editorial desk. "I can't take this assignment," he faltered at length. "Why not?" asked his chief in aston ishment. "Because I used to know Miss Win terton," he answered with difficulty. "Then so much the better for tho Ar gus," said the city editor smiling, "you seem to he just the man for us." "She was once a very dear friend of mine," went on Sheridan in a low tone, "and you must see how impossible it would he for me to go to her on such an errand. I can't do it, that's all." The city editor sighed deeply, and emerged from his flood of items. He looked tho young man squarely in tho eyes. It was a crisis for which he was prepared sooner or later in the case of a novice. Usually he said: "I don't care a hang if your father was the czar of all the Russias. You've got to sink your identity when you enter this oiHce. Try to forget that once you were your fath er's son, and remember with all your soul that you're only a reporter on the Daily Argus." This useful advice was followed eith er by an emphatic slam of the door as the young reporter began to sink his identity in that of the Argus, or by an immediate resignation couched with cold civility. But" this time, glancng up at the handsome, refined face re garding him with such frank distress and perplexity, the city editor said quite gently for him who was wont to growl as the bear: "You know, Mr. Sheridan, we news-reporters are oblig ed to belong (o the neuter gender." Although a self-made man himself, and thoroughly proud of the fact, the city editor suddenly experienced a feel ing akin to compassion for young Sheridan, whom an unexpected flurry in Wall street had robbed of his prince ly inheritance. It occurred to him that possibly the struggle of an impoverish ed millionaire might offer difficulties even more overwhelming than those of a man accustomed to hardships from his birth. Suddenly, without a word, Sheridan turned and left the room. As the door banged behind him, the city editor sank down again in his items with a sigh of relief that his most promising report er had not given in his resignation. The footman smlcd broadly as he an swered the bell, for Sheridan had been a great favorite with the Winterton servants, but the young man's face was Inusually grave as he said, briefly: "Please* tell Miss Winterton that a Reporter from tho Daily Argus wishes to interview her." The footman's smile widened into an Instantly suppressed grin as he listen ed to this message. He recalled the day, not so very distant, when the young millionaire had driven up in state to the door, and, pressing a gold piece In his hand, had bidden him tell his mistress that a detective would have speech with her at once upon import ant business. Later, when he was serv ing the coffee in the drawing room, he had overheard Miss Marion telling her father about an exquisite diamond ring which an unknown detective had found at Tiffany's, and recognized as hers by reason of its surpassing beauty; where at Mr. Winterton had been much mys tified until the young girl laughingly had explained, and showed him the brilliant bauble sparkling on her fin ger. "But it doesn't prove to me that Tom Sheridan is a clever detective just be cause* he thinks the finest diamond at Tiffany's belongs to you," teased her father, and the young girl had blushed and smiled as she confessed that Tom had done ,'Ame very clever work, in doed, in discovering hrr feeling toward him. "But don't you think that was painfully evident?" said the heartless parent How familiar it all seemed. Outside he caught a glimpse of steadily falling snow between the heavy folds of the Venetian curtains, but within all was summer-like and soothing. A Are of driftwood sent a delicious warmth through the apartment. A giant bowl of ancient delft brimming over with the delicate La France* roses she loved, offered him their incense generously. There was her violin in a corner. The night he had learned he had nothing, and had given her back her freedom, she had played to him in the firelight. It was burned into his memory in effaceably. He saw again her tall, slight figure in its clinging, white drap eries, her charming face bent softly above her violin as she played "Du Bist Wie Eine Blume," and sang the words almost whisperingly. It was a moment he would never forget, because it was tli# moment before he had lost her forever, and men remember such things. How dear and familiar it all was. It would be so easy, so very easy, to turn back time for a little month to that moment when he had stood there in that same place, eager, happy, uncon scious, waiting for the sight of her, for the wonderful sound of her voice. The warmth, the fragrance, the delightful, artistic comfort of the room made a harmonious prelude to the bliss of her arrival. When she entered it was like a flash of lovely sunlight after dark ness. . He heard her light footsteps coming tripping by down thd oak staircase. In a moment he would see her again, charming, riant face, so dear, so dif ferent from all other face, the one face of his dreams, of his prayers. He took a step toward the door, and then his eyes fell upon a copy of the Daily Argus lying on a table before him. He turned aside brusquely and walked quickly to the window, where tho snow was falling steadily beyond the Venetian curtains. But of the weather he was quite unconscious. Ho saw suddenly the busy, mask-like face of the city editor, the hard, white glare of the green-shaded electric lamp cir cling down upon his bent head and be neath the pulsing thunder of his brain he heard the city editor's voice saying: "You know, Mr. Sheridan, we news reporters are obliged to belong to the neuter gender." He must never forget those words again. "Oh, Tom, dearest," said the voice which was so wonderful and so differ ent from all other voices in the world, "I really began to think you never were coming to see me again." There was a curious mixture of joy and pain and bubbling, irrepressible laughter in her tone. Sheridan turned away from the dreary reality of brown stone houses frowning grimly in the falling snow, back to tho enchanting but forbidden delight of the room so summer-soft and soothing. Ho dared not lift his eyes to hers, but he said quite firmly in view of the mad beat ing of bis heart: "I have been sent up by the Daily Argus to interview you about your en gagement, Miss Winterton. "Oh, indeed," said the girl, smiling happily, "you may tell them it's quite true." "Oh, Marion!" burst forth poor Sheridan, helplessly in spite of his fixed determination to merge his iden tity in that of his paper. "It isn't, it can't be true?" "Yes, it is, dearest," she said, going straight up to him and putting her hands on his broad shoulders. "You ought to know it's been true for nearly three mpnths, Tom." "But I gave you back your freedom, you know," gasped the young man in bewilderment. "I know you tried to," she whisper ed to his coat; "but, you foolish Tom, didn't you notice that I didu't take it?" The editorial rooms of the Daily Ar gus were unenriched by the presence of young Sheridan on the day of his un successful attempt to mergo his identi ty In that of the paper. The city edi tor was in a very bad humor on account of this extraordinary fact, as all the of fice boys could bear testimony. An en tiro column had been reserved confi dently for Sheridan's story, and as a result of his default a column of el derly tid-bits had disgraced the even ing edition. The temperature was far below zero on tho following morning when the young reporter came in. "Sheridan," began the city editor, sternly, "where is your story?" "Well," confessed the young man, flushing with the consciousness of guilt, "she admitted she's engaged, but it's not to be announced yet. And it is not the English duke, after all." "Who is it, then? Did you get his name?" asked the editor, professionally on the alert. "I got his name and address," said Sheridan, still smiling guiltily, "but she asked me, as a special favor, not to give it to the press just yet. However, she promises the Argus exclusive news later." "Umph!" growled the city editor. John Boyle's Tragedy. In 1873 John Boyle of Detroit was re jected as a juror in a murder trial be cause he knew too much about the case. Since that time he has read j only the headlines of murder "stories" j in the daily newspapers, in order to be qualified for jury service when he should next be called upon to perform that exalted duty of citizenship. His opportunity came in a big trial the other day, and ho was rejected on ac count of his age. ; IfPUNG ' V The Old-Fashioned Boy. He has dimples,—laughter-wollsi Aud his ears are pretty shells! He will very rarely ory; •Smiles are shining in his eyo! He is just as full of fun As a kitten in the sun! On his head a ribboned curl Makes him look 'most like a girl! . What a blessing and a joy Is my fat, old-fashioned boy! —Chicago ltegister. Lion. Lion is a big black dog, whose mas ter sends him to the postoffice for his letters. When the clerk sees the shag gy head at the window he puts the letters and paper in Lion's mouth, and away he trots, never losing a bit of it. One day, when coming home from the office, he saw a piece of cake on the sidewalk. Now Lion is very fond of cake, and he was hungry; but, if he put the letters down some one might run off with them, for it was on a busy street. The shaggy head was still for a minute, as if thinking, when, dropping the letters carefully on the sidewalk, he placed one big black paw on them, and then ate the cake as if he enjoyed it. —Light of Truth. "Diogenes the Wise." With all his faults the old philoso pher of Athens was often called "Di ogenes the Wise." Whether his wis dom was really so great as to deserve that title may be doubted. But his worst faults seem to have been good qualities carried to excess. In oppos ing too much luxury, he cut liimseif off from the comforts of life! in his eagerness to make life simple, he lost sight of its gentilities; he was saving at the expense of neatness, truthful at the cost of courtesy, and plain spok en oven to rudeness. One would say that he was coarse grained by nature, „but he showed signs of tenderness and even refinement, which proved that the grain was not entirely coarse, and which mtde us wonder at an age that could produce two men so wise and yet so different as Diogenes the rude, "walking philosopher" of his time, and Plato, the polished and aristocratic gontieman.—St. Nicholas. Which Are You? Two boys went to gather grapes. One was happy because they found grapes. The other was unhappy be cause the grapes had seeds in them. Two men, being convalescent, were asked how they were. One said, "I am better today." The other said, "I was worse yesterday." When it rains one man says, "This will make mud;" another, "This will lay the dust." Two boys examined a bush. One ob served that it had a thorn; the other that it had a rose. Two children looking through col ored glasses, one said, "The world is blue;" and! the other said, "It is bright." Two boys having a bee, one got honey, the other got stung. The first called it a honey bee, the other a sting ing bee. "I am glad that I live," says one man. "I am sorry I must die." says another. "I am glad says one, "that it is no worse." "I am sorry," says another, "that it is no better." One says, "Our good is mixed with evil," Another says, "Our evil is mixed with good."—Christian Register. Conundrums. What is the difference between Joan of Are and Noah's ark? One was made of gopher wood and the other Maid of Orleans. What is the difference between a chicken with one wing and one with two? A difference of (a) o-pinion. What is the greatest thing to take before singing? Breath. Why is Cupid a poor marksman? He ts always making Mrs. (misses). Why do most girls like ribbons? They think the beaux becoming. Why is a blacksmith's apron like an unpopular girl? It keeps the sparks off. Why are girls good postoffice clerks? pecause they understand managing the vails. What animals are admitted to the (pera? White kids. When is a girl like a mirror? When he is a good looking (g) lass. When is a schoolmaster like a man Hth one eye? When he has a va cancy for a pupil. In what key should a declaration of jove be made? Be mine ah! (B minor). Why is a sheet of postage stamps like distant relatives? Because they are only slightly connected. Why can the world never come to an end? Because it is round. First Impressions. "Hurry up, mother! They close the doors when it is 9 o'clock, you know." It was his first day at school, and the little lad' could scarcely await the moment for departure. Ills constant chatter showedi his fear of being late. But at last the hour arrived, and he was shown into a large room where there were many children. His eyes opened wider and wider, but he did not have a word to say; his time was all taken up with just looking. Pres ently he found that his mother was kissing him, and telling bllm to be a good bey. Then a strange young lady j standing near took him in charge. Where was mother going? What was this strange woman going to <!b with him? His eyes, as he looked at his mother, wore an expression at onca scared and pleading. But he remembered that father had told him to be his solid little man, and not let all the children think ho was a baby. So ho bravely swallowed that funny lump in his throat, which somehow made his voice sound so odd and queer as he said to his mother, "Good by, mother! Bo sure and come for me at noon." Thus began his first school day. He was placed on a hard little seat be hind a tiny desk, and for a time he felt that if he moved a finger some thing awful would happen; hut soon he saw that things were taking place around him, and he raised his head. He looked at the other boys, front, back and all around, and presently he saw one boy stand up and say, "C-a/-t." Then another boy stood up and said, "B-o-y." Was that al! they learned at 3chool? Why, he know how to spell those words long ago! He thought he was going to learn something new. His heart sweUod with all the importance of his seven years, and he could scarcely sit still until he was given a chance to show them how easily he could spell and count all that they were spelling and counting. Then when 12 o'clock came and he marched with the others like little sol diers to the street, this little lad looked eagerly for a face that ho was sure would be waiting. With one little scream he fairly flew to her, and clasp ing his arms round her neck, said: "Mother, this is such a funny school! They didn't teach us anything new at all. The teacher just told the boys how to spell cat and pig and hen. But I showed her I could do much better than that. "Well, what did my little hoy say when the teacher asked hiimto spell?" "Why, she wanted me to® pel I cow, but I just got up and said,'M-i-s-s-i-s --s-i-p-p-i.' " —Youth's Companion. Animals That Swim. There is hardly an animal known that cannot swim. Most animals are perfectly ready to swim when neces sary, and will cross deep water by swimming rather than to go around it. Some animals swim only when the greatest necessity drives them to it. Birds, on the other hand, cannot swim unless they are water fowl. Ev ery one knows how miserably chickens | perish in water. Song birds are equal | ly helpless. Even the wadors drown in deep water. It is a common belief that pigs can not swim, or, rather, that, although they cannot swim, they will "cut their throats" with their front hoof 3 in the struggle. i As a matter of fact the domestic pig is not a willing swimmer, and will tako to the water only in the most se rious emergency. But the wild boar swims readily, and takes to the water invariably if hunted in a direction that leads to it. The domestic cat is a very good and swift swimmer, despite her objection to water. In an experiment made by the writer, a cat beat a water spaniel. Both were thrown overboard a meas ured quarter of a mile from shore, and the cat got in first. The cat's superior speed was not due to her fear of the water, for she was one of those rare cats that go in voluntarily. The dog was fully as anx ious to reach shore as the cat, for he was frantic with eagerness to get to his master who stood on the land. The cat in question belonged to me when I opened a fishing camp on a marsh island in the middle of one of the big salt water nays on the south shore of Long Island. She was a great, ugly black cat, and as she had been born on the marsh, she was accus tomed to the water from the beginning. When she was still a tiny kitten, she need to amuse us and our visitors by lying close to the water and making swift dabs with her claws at the lit tle minnows that flashed' past. Finally, one day, we were surprised to find her standing in the water. She had waded out so far that only her shoulders and head were above the surface and there she stood fishing. For a long time she did not move a muscle. Then suddenly she made a quick motion with her left fore claws and backed out of the water with a little blackflsh. From that day on It became unnec essary to feed the cat. She hunted for her own food regularly and for sov eral years she ate absolutely nothing but fish, except in winter. She became so greedy for fish that she would leap into boats as soon as they came alongside and steal the first fish that she could seize. Finally it became customary for the fishermen to anchor their boats In front of the camp and wade ashore to prevent the thief from getting any of their catch. As the beach was shelving, the boats often were anchored 200 feet out from shore. One day I saw something move In one of the boats and then I saw our black cat climb furtively out of the bow with a fish In her mouth. She slipped gently into the water and swam I ashore with her spoil. After that she made a regular prac tice of swimming out to boats until she became a nuisance. Her sins were made worse by the fact that, although she would stand In the water patient ly for hours waiting for a fish, she re fused absolutely to catch the white ! rats with which the creek was Infest ed. | So there was no grief among us ' when a strangeT seeing the cat swim I across the creek one day Imagined that j she was some curious sea creature and I shot her dead.—San Francisco Chron icle. PHILIPPINE FARMING. A PROBLEM TO MAKE TROPCAL AGRICULTURE PROFITABLE. The American Who Without Special Training Attempts to Farm in Our Island Archipelago Is Taking Des perate Chances—Where to Study, Tho farming community in the older eastern and southern portions of the United States constitutes, if I may be pardoned the use of a seeming para dox, a conservative-progressive ele ment of our people, whose conserva tism finds expression in clinging to the old farm and its associations, and whose progressiveness takes form in adopting with alacrity every scientific or practical device that facilitates farm operations. He has, and perhaps truly, been charged as of laggard intuitions, and of slow, even dense, perceptions; but none gainsay that he is very sure and apt to arrive at very correct conclu sions whether his mental processes be of the hare or tortoise order, ms sound sense and very good judgment are emphasized by tho fact that he, better than any one elso,knowshisown limitations in his own craft. He knows that the underlying principles in agriculture are governed by the same laws on the equator as at the poles. Having mastered those princi ples, he also knows that in a fair field, and without fear or favor, his pros pects of success in a new and untried field of tropical agriculture would be far brighter than those of any layman however industrious and energetic. But this American farmer has not yet arrived in the Philippines, and, worse luck for us, there is little dan ger that he will be conspicuous here for many years to come—except by his absence. No; he is not here, nor will he be here in our generation, and tho simple explanation may be found in that earl lier tribute to his average good sense and that profound knowledge of this own limitations; to the knowledge that tells him that notwithstanding the advantages that liistraining and experi ence would give him, the successful practice of tropical agriculture would impose upon him the acquisition of a new and almost distinct profession. In time and as he learns upon credi ble sources of information of the pros ecution of large and successful farm ing enterprises in these parts, he will cautiously send out his sons, not as farmers, but as apprentices or labor ers, upon these estates where they may round out and perfect the initial training they have had in agricultural schools or upon the old homestead. Meanwhile, while wo lack, and will continue to lack, the American farmer, we have a very considerable number of Americans, who propose "to enter" tropical agriculture with the same in souciant unconcern and easy aplomb with which they would saunter into a dining room or through an open gate way. These same people ar shocked— sometimes distinctly offended —if asked why they do not "enter" tho ministry, or, equally untrained, do not "enter" as special counsel in litiga tion involving millions, or into a hos pital to perform an operation in tomy or obstetrics. Inquiry develops the fact that a few, a very few of these candidates for graduation in and the practice of trop ical agriculture have been born upon a farm, and perhaps done farm chores till 12 or 15 years of age. For these few there is a fighting chance of success, as they realize that they are coping with a man's task and a child's equip ment for the undertaking. But what can be said of the chances of the large remainder? of the 90 per cent, mado up of discharged soldiers, disappointed miners, adventurers, whatnots, or anybody except farmers who couid with equal hope of success undertake the construction of a twin screw battleship as the equally com plex problems of tropical agriculture? The truly pitiable feature of this phase of the case is that many of this class are not only sincerely in earnest but by frugality and industry have ac cumulated a few hundred or a few thousand dollars that they now seek to invest in* tropical agriculture, and seek either information or advice as to the best cultivations to undertage which, between the lines should be read to say, the easiest channels in which to lose their hard-earned sav ings. Where advice alone is asked, and the adviser knows his business, and is conscientious, he can have but one un (eviating reply to make: "Go to Java, the Federated Malay States, or Ceylon, and hire out as an apprentice or farm hand for two or three years on some of the very many large and well-managed farm estates, supplement your day labor with very night study, and then you may return fairly well equipped to undertake trop ical farming in the Philippines without incurring the almost certain disaster that must otherwise overtake you." Nothing will suit tho victim but that he plunge in medias res and flounder at once in the complexities of abaca, copra, cacao, coffee, Indigo, or vanilla. Inflamed with the tales of untold wealth that sometimes are broadly ex posed in newspaper columns, but not unfrequently well entrenched and con cealed from view upon the farm; he hastens to do the little he hears and reads, and this is all sufficient to win the day. He needs only to drop a cocoanut in the sand or dibble in an abaca sucker and Mother Nature will do the rest. It must be conceded that at the pres ent moment, stimulated by enormous demand and abnormal prices, Mother Nature, so far as mese two products are concerned, 13 traveling well up. But when the normal is restored, as it undoubtedly will be (for markets are like pendulums), then Mother Nature will balk and can only be coaxed out of her routine pace by the application of such stratagem and artifice as may only be commanded by him whose training, experience, and profound knowledge of the special cultivation in hand assures his mastery of tho situation. With.the varied scientific knowledge! and comprehensive grasp of the appli-" cation of scientific principles with this fact so generally known to laymen, it seems little short of marvelous to find there are still people upon the earth who have not outlived the old-time re proach "When a man hasn't brains enough to make a living, make a farm er of him." That the reproach is not all undeserved is demonstrated by the many untrained recruits in the Philip pines standing ready to Jump into the realities of a calling whose technical demands are far more exacting than those in the highest lines of industrial art, and in some respect more than in the so-called learned professions. This man is sui-generis, and for pur poses of identification must hereafter be classed as the "American Farmer in the Philippines."—W. S. Lyon, Firth ippino Bureau of Agriculture, in M.w nila Times. WONDERFUL THING IS STARCH. Read What the Learned Grocer Has to Say About It. "A package of starch?" asked the intelligent and learned grocer; and as he wrapped the package up he talked. "Starch originated," he said, "In Flanders. It was introduced into Eng land, with the big ruff, in the time of Queen Elizabeth. It was like our starch of today, except that it was made in colors —red, yellow, green, blue. The effect of this was to tint deli cately the white linen to which the starch might be applied. "Before Queen Elizabeth's time ruf fles and ruffs were made of fine Hol land, which required no Then the ruffs of cambric came at (A 1 these of necessity be starched." The grocer, consulting his memor andum book, resumed: "It is recorded that 'when the Queen had ruffs made of lawn and cambric for her own princely wearing there was none in England could tell how to starch them; but the Queen made spe cial means for some women that could starch, and Mrs. Guilham, wife of the royal coachman, was the first starch cr." "In 15G4 a Flanders woman, Frau Van der Plasse, came to London and established there a school for the teaching of starching. This school suc ceeded. The Flanders frau got ricn. She charged £5 a lesson, and an extra 20 shillings for a recipe for the making of starch out of wheat flour, bran and roots. . "Yellow was the most color among the nobility. The fast, racing set went in for green. The Puri tans used blue starch though at first they had been against the stuff alto gether, dubbing it: "A certaine kinde of liquide matter which they call starch, wherein the devill hath willed them to wash and dive their ruffes, which when they be dry, will thon stand stiffe and inflexible about their necks.' "Starch is made from wheat, com and potatoes, and starving men have often subsisted on it, finding it nour ishing, though not tasty."—Philadel phia Record. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. The biggest wheat field in the world is in the Argentine. It belongs to an Italian named Guazone and covers just over 100 square miles. At In Lynn, Mass., 24.000,000 pairs of shoes were made last year; in Brock ton, 17,000,000 pairs and in Haverhill, 12,000,000 pairs. These three cities, therefore, turned out enough shoes to supply one pair for two-thirds of the population of the country. The most widely separated points be tween which a telegram can be sent are British Columbia and New Zea land. A telegram sent from one to the other would make nearly a cir cuit of the globe and would traverse over 20,000 miles in doing so. Joseph Powell, a 13-year-old boy who lives in New Albany, Ind., has literally outgrown his skin. During a six months' illness his height increased 12 inches and his skin became as tight as a drumhead, finally bursting in sev, eral places. The breaks are now heaifw Ing. V By a law recently enacted in Russia, any university or lrigll school student who creates or causes disorder shall be drafted into the army for a period of from one to three years, mis is to curb the rashness and fondness for mischief of college students, who im agine they have the privilege to annoy all creation. A fence nearly 200 feet long at Liv ingston, Mont., is made entirely of horns of the elk—more properly caned wapiti. These animals, like the others of the deer family, shed their horns once a year and grow new ones. The old horns are found in large numbers in the forests, and are used for vari-w .. ous commercial purposes. T Fiery Sarcasm. "The house is on fire!" cried the tenor. "The audience must be dis missed as quickly as possible." "All right," replied the manager. "Fay nothing about the fire. Go out and sing."—Tit-Bits.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers