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.