THE WEEKLY BULLETIN
Mount Joy, Pa.
TT ee
E. SCHROLL, - Editor and Publisher.
¥
ve.
SUBSCRIPTION,
Fifty Cents Per Annum, strictly in
advance.
Six Months, - . i
Single Copies,
Sample Copies Free.
25 Cents,
2 Cents.
Legal Advertising 10 cents per line
each insertion.
Spocial Rates to Yearly Advertisers.
Entered at the Post Office at Mount
Joy, Pa., as second-class matter.
OFFICE REBAR OF
MOUNT JOY HALL.
— a cmp mow
Egyptian state railroads bought last
year $3,757,239 of material, of which
England furnished $2,565,000, Belgium
$488,000, Turkey $198,000 and the
United States $340,000.
A certain justice of the peace in
Maryland evidently imagines that cows
can read big print. He recently gave
a verdict against a railroad company
for killing a cow near a road crossing
for the reason that ‘the defendant
had no sign up at the crossing.”
The American business man of the
present day spends his health to gain
wealth and then immediately starts
out to spend his wealth in regaining
his health. But generally he finds the
first feat child's play in comparison
with the second, says the Baltimore
American.
Nature has ordained that insects
and worms shall live, but she has pro-
vided them with food at the expense
of the farmers. It is said that
following 11 pests damage ithe crops
every year to the value of more than
$350,000,000—the cinch bug, grasshop-
the
per, Hessian fly, potato bug, San Jose
scale, grain weevil, army worm, cab-
bage worm, boll weevil, boll worm and
cotton worm.
Have you ever noticed, says a wril-
er in “V. C.,” that some tamers carry
a second whip their left hand
which is ng er used? There is -pur-
pose in this. It represents to the wild
beasts the terrors of the unknown. He
has experienced the sharp, stinging
flick of the whip in the tamer’s right
hand, but for the life of him he can-
what anguish lurks in
the other
Many a
in
pot imagine
that
hand, which is never used.
tamer has saved his life in a critical
moment by just lifting that unknown
a crouching, growling,
mysterious whip in
terror above
fury maddened tiger.
A man who puts a joke into his wil
ie certainly in a position to laugh last.
The police commissary of a small town
ir
France, has just been the victim of
this sort of posthumous humor. A few
days ago he was summoned to make
the necessary legal investigation in the
cage of the suicide of a retired railway
gcrvant, wke had the reputation of be-
ing a very original character. On 2
table he found a large envelope bear
ing the words: “This is my last will
and testament,” which he transmitted
{oc the proper quarter. Two days later
the commissary was informed that he
was sole legatee. When an inventory
of the estate was made, however, it
was found that the liabilities just
about balanced the assets, and that,
censequently, after paying the funeral
expenses, the commissary’s legacy
would consist of debts. He may refuse
the legacy, but a fee has to be paid ir
such cases, and he will be out of pock
et whether he accepts or refuses.
the department of Seine-et-Qise,
There are a thousand persons in the
leper colony on the island of Molokai
and five times as many dogs. So nu-
merous have the animals become of
late that the authorities found their
support a heavy burden—they ate more
than the lepers—and decided that they
were a serious menace to the sanitary
and economic condition of the colony
It has therefore been decided by the
board of health, not, as might be ex:
pected, that all the dogs must go, but
that their number must be reduced te
equality with that of the human in-
habitants. In other words each lepe:
will be permitted to have one dog
There is pathos in the reasoning by
which this decision was reached. Tt
seems that the lepers are extremely
fond of dogs, since the affection which
they get from these animals to a de-
gree makes up for the repulsion their
malady creates among more fortunate
men and women, exclaims the New
York Timds. The dog draws no line
anywhere, {and treats a Ieper master
exactly aglihe would another. Henge
1 red too cruel to thifk
the dogs from the Al
heir reduged
{ she had come with
.« THE DIARY.
What matters it on such and such a
date
What did betide?
We have the present glory; what fs
worth
Aught else beside?
“Nay,” said the other, ‘“when we read
this page
Some future day,
The old forgotten joy will
newed;
Ah, who can say?”
be re-
But we so altered by the lapse of
time,
It will seem vain;
This brook song and those
words we syoke,
An idle strain.
tender
“Nay,” said the otner, “if this golden
hour
We do enshrine,
Long afterward ’twill walk like morn-
ing with us,
Our youth divine.”
—Florence Wilkinson.
The Repentant Wife.
BY PHILIP REAUFOY,
“Five years ago tonight!”
Dr. Basil Graham sat beside the
waning fire in his big study and peer-
ed into the ruddy depths. What did
he see that caused him to gaze there
with such intent eyes?
He saw a house in a city street,
and within that house a girl—sweet,
winsome, adorable. He saw a man
at her feet, heard him murmur words
of love, heard her whisper “Yes,”
while the man’s eyes lighted up with
ineffable joy.
The embers fell, and another pic-
ture burned into the doctor’s brain.
He saw another house {in another
street—desolate, empty, grief-strick-
en—a house whence the woman had
flown, leaving black sorrow and tears
behind her. And Basil Graham knew
that this woman was Mabel, his wife,
and that the man was himself, her
broken-hearted husband.
Five years ago she had vanished
from his home after a brief wedded
life. She had gone without a word
of explanation, and he had been
forced to tae bitter conclusion that
she had flown with some man for
whom she had conceived a sudden
and perhaps overwhelming affection.
All search proved useless. Had the
{ grave closed over Mabel Graham she
could not nave been more effectually
hidden from the man into whose life
such wondrous
joy, and out of whose existence she
nad gone with such tragic abruptness.
He nad told himself that hence-
forth life could hold no further joy
for him. But for his work, he would
in all probability have sought refuge
in the everlasting sleep that lurked
within the phials of his office, but,
fortunately, the man's devotion to
his profession held him back, and
turned his thoughts towards the path
of life.
Five years had passed away. Five
years nad borne him along the dreary
highway of existence, and long since
kz had put aside all hopes of meeting
his wife again on earti. told
himself that he must tread his lone-
iy way until death wrot2 tae word
®finis” at the foot of his life’s his-
tory.
Tonight, en this most bitter anni-
versary, he sat in tne gloomy study,
pondering the events of his past life,
and asking himself with strange per-
sistence, the old, old question:
“Why had Mabel feft him?”
“Once I believed that there was
some other man,” he murmured, “but
I have tried to battle aith that ter-
rible belief and to dismiss it from ay
brain.”
The doctor arose, ana goiug to the
tooksnelf, took from it 2 volume and
began to read. Hard!v had he set
tlel in his chair when a loud knock
regsoundad through the quiet house.
A servant entered and informed
him that a lady desired to see him.
“A patient, I suppose,” said Gra-
ham, mechanically. “Show her in
here.”
The man quitted the apactmens, re-
turning in a minute with a tall close-
Jy veiled woman.
“What can I do for yeu, madam?”
he queeried, motioning her to a chair.
“Dector, I cannot down, for
there is no time to lose.”
“You wish me to
you?” he asked quickly.
“Yes. A lady wno resides in the
same house as myself has been taken
ill, and I volunteered to nurse her.
She seems worse tonight, and I was
about to send for the doctor who had
already attended her, when she called
me to her bedside and said: “Bring
Dr. Graham of Harley street. [ have
somehing to say to him!”
“I will come at once!” cried the
doctor, as hope and fear subtly min-
gled in his brain. The hope took the
form of a belief that the sick woman
might be his wife—the fear that she
might die in the very heur of meet-
ing.
A cab was waiting at the door.
The docter end his companion entor-
ed the vehicle and were rapidly driv-
en in the direction of a northern sub-
urb. After some twenty-five minutes’
i journey, the cab drew up at the door
of a somewhat dingy house, and the
veiled woman touched Dr. Graham on
the arm.
“This is the place,” she said in a
low voice. “Pray Heaven we may
; not be too late.”
A sharp ring at the ball brought a
glatternly’ maidservant to tae door.
“How is Miss Everson?” asked the
woman, quickly. ®
Ta
ia
att
5.0
return with
‘She seems about the same,” re-
plied the girl, casting a hurried glance
at the doctor.
The latter seemed to have been
struck by the name of ‘“Everston,”
and as he went up the stairs Ris
brain was sorely puzzled.
“Everston — Everston!”
dered, “where have I
name before?”
Further reflection was cut short by
the arrival of the physician and his
guide at the room where the dying
woman lay. A dull oil lamp served
to deepen rather than relieve the
black gloom of the apartment, and it
was with difficulty that Dr. Graham
was able to gaze upon the features
of the patient. Then a low, quiver-
ing cry escaped his lips.
“Mary!” he exclaimed, as his heart
beat like a steam hammer. “So it is
you?” ;
“Yes,” replied a feeble voice. “It
is I, Basil Graham, and I know that
I am going fast. I have not sent for
you to tend me as a patient, for I
know that I am beyond all human
skill.”
“Why, then, have you asked me to
come?” asked Graham, in a low voice.
“Because I have something to tell
you before I ‘die—a secret which I
must not carry with me to the
grave.”
Then, perceiving that the veiled
woman was standing close at hand,
she made a gesture signifying that
she wished her to quit the room. A
moment later they were alone.
There was a long pause, and then
the woman raised her head and look-
ed him steadfastly in the face.
“Do you remember,” she said, hus-
kily, “that seven years ago you and
I were to be married?”
“lI remember the fact now,” he
made answer, “though until this
night it had been driven from my
brain by other and more recent
events.”
“Very well. If your memory serves
you right you will call to mind that
you broke off the engagement be-
cause certain scandalous doings of
mine came to your ears?”
“Yes, yes, I remember.”
“I was guilty of those acts and you
did right to break with me,” went on
the feeble voice; “but all the same
I did not think so at the time. I hat-
ed you for humiliating me, and I
swore that if ever the time came
when I might take vengeance, I
would not spare you.”
“Go on,” said the doctor.
“The opportunity came when you
married. I heard from a friend that
he
heard
pon-
that
you were devoted to your wife, and
that you were supremely happy. I
was living in Wilmington at*the time,
and was unable to come to New York
to plot against your peace of mind;
but I had in my possession certain
letters of yours addressed to me,
bearing no dates. I put half a dozen
| of those letters in an envelope, dated
them with dates which would corre-
spond Ww several months after your
marriagé, and sent them with an an-
onymoiis communication to your wife
—a worsen whom I had never seen,
but whom I hated for having married
you.”
“You fiend!” Graham was about to
exclaim, but remembering that she
was trembling on the brink of death
he repressed the cry that arose to
his lips, and merely said again, “Go
on!”
- “There is little~more to tell. The
next news that reached me .conceri-
ing you was that your wife had gone
away, and that your home was deso-
late. I rejoiced with all my heart at
the time, but since then I have bit-
terly repented my wickedness, for
life has been nothing but misery to
me, and I have been punished, heav-
ily punished.”
She was growing weaker. The
words left her lips with painful slow-
ness.
enced eye of the physician to per-
ceive that the end was near.
“Do you—do you know where my
tered "his emotion sufficiently to find
speech.
“No. How should I? Remember
that I never saw her in my life, and
should not know her if she stood
before me at this minute.”
Dr. Graham saw the gray shadows
which proclaim the end of all things
steal over the white face, and look-
ing into those shadows, it scemed to
him that they symbolized the gray
existence must remain thus shadow-
ed until life closed for ever and ever?
his brain, there came a quiver of the
lips, and the dying woman raised
her head feebly.
“Can you—can you forgive
sine asked, huskily.
“I forgive you,” he replied, simply,
giveness ringing in her dull ears,
Mary Everston’s soul went out on its
last journey.
* * * ¥®
* *
The doctor, with mechanical fin
gers, drew the sheet over the rigid
face, and then turned toward tae
door,
“That woman has wrecked ny
life,” he murmured, “but [ woud
pardon all if my darling wife coull
come back to me at this momait—
could put her hand in mine ana whis-
per, ‘Husband, take me home”
Look! Is he awake or is he dream-
ing? for a silent figure nas cept out
of the dark passage toward ¥m, and
has thrown itself at his feet, Sobbing
out, brokenly:
“Husband, take me home!”
Well-nigh med with
and delight, Basil Graham ised thé
It did not require the experi-|
wife is?” he asked, when he had mas- |
misery that this woman had brought |
into his life. Was it destined that his |
Even as the thought raced through |
me?” |
and so, with the neble words of for-|
kneeling woman and fooked inte fer
face.
“Oh, Mabel, my darling, my dari
ing! At last, at last!”
When both of them were® somewhat
calmer, Mabel told him +what had
happened. How she had roomed
‘with Mary BEverston in a cheap lodg-
ing house, little dreaming that she
was the woman who had worked sao
much havoc in her life; how when
Mary fell ill the latter had begged
her to bring Graham to her side; how
she had veiled her face closely so
that her husband might not recognize
ner; and lastly, how the dying wom.
an’s confession, which she had over-
heard, had proved to her beyond all
doubt that Basil was tmue to her
after all.
“But for that confession, Basil,”
she murmured, softly, “we should
have remained apart until the end.”
Then ‘a sudden fear seemed to as.
sail her heart, and she said, tremu.
ously:
“Basil, it was wicked of me to
leave you as I did, without asking
you for an explanation. Time after
time have I repented my wicked
rashness, but pride held me from
coming back to you. Can you—can
you forgive me?”
“I love you,” he replied, huskily;
“that is enough!”
Thus was she answered—thus did
a noble heart speak its message of
forgiveness.
And that night Dr. Graham’s lone-
ly house was lighted by the presence
of a face which cast a new glamour
over all things, and the wanderer
who had strayed for so many weary
years crept back into the heart which
was her refuge, her solace, and aer
home.—New York Weekly.
“CALAMITY JANE”
MAN.
FEARED NO
Held Her Oown in the Wildest Life
of the West.
In the death of “Calamity Jane,”
in Terry, S. D., there has passed one
of the most picturgsque and daring
characters that ever roamed the West-
ern plains. The whole story of this
strange woman never has been told,
and now that she if dead the curtain
of mystery will probably never be
lifted from certaiijp chapters of her
checkered life,
Mrs. Jane Burk/ (‘Calamity Jane’)
was born in Prinketon, Mo., ir 1852,
father to the golfi fields of Montana,
where she becfme inured to
roughest kind of Riding the wild-
est of horses ang
of the most desperate kind seeined to
be second natufre with her. In
dashes over the plains
buckskin clothing of a man,
volvers and cargtridges at her belt, and
in a few yeary seemed to forget en-
tirely that shje was born a woman.
She wan rensfess asked odds of no
man, white or} Indian, and took care of
harsdiz ma ovpiry emergency.
When Gerferal Crook was engaged
in the Indig/m campaign she served as
a scout and rendered effective ser-
vice, making long, arduous journeys
and bravin|g perils that would frighten
a majority of men to these peaceful
times,
“Calamity Jane” was married three
times, her last husband being much
younger than she. She was reported
in dire need in Pierre, S. D., about a
Year ago. and Mrs. Josephine Brock,
of Buffalo, N. Y., who had become
deeply ‘interested in her, raised a
fund tq provide her against want.
Civinue/ life did not agree with the
woman, however, and she
been neard of her until the announce:
ment of her death.
During a fierce campaign against
the Indians in 1872 Mrs. ‘Burk saved
{ the life of Captain Egan and carried
| him from the battlefield.
who cristened her “Calamity Jane, the
| Heroine of the Plains.”
Mrs. Burk participated in all the
fights and accompanied General Crook
| and his command to the Black Hills
| in 1875. She made herself famous in
| 1876 by capturing Jack McCall, mur-
derer of “Wild Bill,” or William Hick- |
| ok. At her request she was buried by
| the'side of “Wild Bill.”
| Trouble with the Indians
{
and became one of the typical kind—
kind described in a thousand ac-
barroom battles, wild
the
counts of her
riding after robbers and grim lynch: |
She made money and spent it in |
ing.
drinking and gambling.
“Calamity Jane” found herself
| her money all gone. She would have
generosity of Mrs.
vided her with a
Herald.
home.—New York
A Novel Monument.
|
|
|
{ of Paris is to be erected in Montmartre
its vicinity.
sixty feet high and be capped by a
balloon of bronze and glass or trans
parent mica. Its diameter will be
about ten feet, and inside there will be
an electric lamp with a reflector, so
that by night the monument will be il-
luminated. The baloon will be guided
by a symbolical figure of the genius ol
Paris, and under it a mother with her
dying children will represent the cit®
of Paris.
| or
It is said that there is a woman in |
Manchester, England, who has eyes |!
which magnify objects fifty
their natural size..!
/ !
and when quite young went with her
the
challenging dangers
| a remedy. They may not agree to the measure—simply a good, sound thrash
x » in2. Everyone has Beard of the story of the child who was continually whim
she wore the | a}
with re. |
soon |
dropped out of sight and nothing had |
It was he |
having | §
ended, “Calamity Jane” turned miner |
in |
| failing health few years ago, and !
g heal 8 lew 3 tue is dominant, and public schools have filled the land with thoughtful citi
been sent to the poor house if the !
Brock had not pro-
! ruption in the future, the “ounce of preventive?’—Boston Evening Transcript.
A novel and ingenious monument by
Bartholdi to the aeronauts of the siege
It will stand about :
Throwing /Cold Water.
By Kate Thorn.
OME people are {always throwing
One of them will effectually eX
man in the world. ,
They go alout on purpose to dampen everybodys Fajeyisat,
Their chief halnpiness consists ip making some ny e NS ecting
and foreboding. They are bird evil omen, & Ways | ge
= something dreadful is comin look for the c oh
year. The smallpox is on the increase. Eve y almost, is liable to par
alysis. They like to read aloud the statistics of death and disease. They like
to attend funerals. They frequent cemeteries. They are fond of talking over
signs of death and ill luck, ;
The crops are sure to fail this year, they inv
pers will be unusually plentiful. The locust are
will rot, and the wheat will be smutty.
Epizootic will rage: colds will flourish, an
sumption, they say they have observed.
The banks are all going to break, and in
te the wall six months hence. i :
The strikes of the trade unions are going to play the devil with business.
Coal will be just as high next winter as last winter, and the poor will
die in droves because of the lack of means to keep warm.
The man who likes to throw cold water will stop you in the street to in
quire after your health, and he will tell you that you look just as his friend
Simpson did, and Simpson died of apoplexy when he was just about your age
Sick only three hours, and left an inconsolable wife and eight small children
He says you look bilious, and remarks that his mother had just such a
complexion a few days before she was taken down with typhoid fever, and
suggests to you the propriety of taking Jenkins’ Anti-Bilious Pills, which hiy
brother has for tale.
If you contemplate going on an excursion into the country, he is sure if
is going to rain—he never knew clouds like those in the south to fail of
bringing wet weather.
If you are going to ride, he will tell you that the roads are in a frightfu’
condition, and the mud up to your ankles. If you are going anywhere on
the cars, he will look lugubrious, and inform you that the culverts on the par-
ticular route you are to travel by are extremely unsafe, and that the rolling
stock is all old, and liable to break an axle any moment.
If you have any particular friends, and happen to speak in their favor,
he will roll up his eyes in plous distress, and sigh, and say that if you only
knew what he knows; and then he sighs again, and says, despairingly:
“Well, we are all poor creatures!”
And when you insist on being told what he knows, he sighs louder and
more dismally than before, and says it is against his principles to say anythi
to injure anybody, or to make any one feel unhappy.
Fo 2
Evil of Looking for Trouble.
By the Editor of the Post.
HE REALLY unhappy man, whose unhappiness is his own fault,
is the one who is forever carrying “a chip upon his shoulder’
Perhaps his happiness is his unhappiness, for when he is not
engaged in a personal altercation he is brooding over some
PTR fancied slizht and awaiting a favorable opportunity to give vent
G0 to his wrath.
Beri. The man with the chip on his shoulder is easily recognized,
and his society by wise people carefully avoided. He can go nowhere without
troubic following in his wake. If he attends a theatre he is either annoyed
by ithe usher or come one in the audience, or at the man in the box office for
not having cold him a seat bought long before he appeared at the window. Ht
is the bane of the car ¢onductor, and on the railroad train he succeeds in em
broiling himself in a row with the brakeman, conductor, Pullman car porter
( and the passenger fjach flying cinder from the locomotive is aimed especially
at his eyes, and he succeeds in stirring up the spirit of mutiny in the hearts
of the travelers.
There are some women similarly constituted who manage to be in trouble
from the moment their eyes open in the morning till they close them in sleep.
These people are indged to be pitied, if indeed they are not cordially hated.
This quarrelsome halpit of mind can be so fostered that the petulancy grows
t and leads sometimes to the insane asylum. Parents
to be «¢ 1t (
who notice in their clildren tais fretful, quarreling disposition can easily find
cold water on everything.
tinguish the most sanguine
ariably say. The grasshop
coming this way. Potatoes
d colds generally end in con
dustrial corporations will be forced
i1sease
What do
and quarrelinlz. In despair‘tke mother eried: “Are you sick?
ghrayelyt the child answered: “I think, mamma, I want a whipping.
=
| She received the Whrpming.and there was a .narkeQd improvement in her
S.. - —.
ix F Fo
Training the Memory.
By Dr. Louise Fiske Bryson.
= VIPAIRMENT of memory usually arises from some condition of
nervous exhaustion as that resulting from paysical illness o1
trein, from over-work, grief, physical fatigue, emotional shock
mogotony of living, absence of healthful recreation and amuse
ment—any circumstance that brings about perpetual antagonisn
heiween personality and surroundings. Measures to strengther
Ress the exhausted nerve elements will improve a fainting and enfee
bled ms y. Means to this end are comprised in the rigat use of air, water
exercise, foods, recreation, study, companionship, rest, in a circle of varied ac
tivities and methods that embraces aspiratiors of the highest order as well as
the most homely details of practical hygiene. Nothing in nature requires so
much oxygen as a nerve, so much fresh air. “Open the windows and glorify the
| mom,” as Sidney Smith used fo say. Do not be afraid of a little glory at
night, too; for brain and nerves, heart and mind, need fresh air more thaw
any other material help. Next to air as a means of safeguarding memory
and gray matter, water is the most effective and beneficent agent. In the
form of the daily bath, water is the most powerful nerve tonic ever yet dis
covered. For drinking, about two quarts of water is the amount required
daily. The third factor in mental health is food, often most erroneously place?
first. What is digested, not what is merely eaten, is the thing that counts in
regard to nourishment.—Harper’s Bazar.
&F &F
We leed
More Emersons
WRESENT life and society are very complicated and the old vj
fF while the same as always, must be applied to new
There is need for disentaglement of their
ng
ou want:
1
fn]
1
Fe
Why
gr rtues,
Onditions.
TTR
LIARS
FG OTS
KV nazis
-
The Supreme Court of Law in Vis |
enna has decided to have all docur
ments typewritten, as it was found
that the bad hand-writing of the
clerks hindered the speedy transac
tion of legal work.
Last year there were 12 American,
21 German, 15 English, 5 Russian, & |
French, 2 Swiss, 2 Spanish, 2 Korean,
3 Chinese, 1 Italian and 1 Belgian
teachers and university professors if
Japan. It will be seen that the Ge
mans are leading.
Besides the ever-increasing
nue from thousands of traveler
is earning increased sums by J
idly reviving manufactures
waters of the Alps an
giving her as cheap powe
of electrical plants as coal
ing to Belgium, Gern
and the United State
According to D
value of articles use
person in the Unif
the last year, if boul
was $98.83. The y
$101.91. These
closely to those of
Two years ago the amd
The published statemy
now get no pure
troverted by the
sul at Aden, who
other coffees with
coffees to Aden
Mocha is prohibil
ties. The Unite
this coffee last yd
at a cost of $377,3
The most impo
Chinese is that 0
which drains tog
productive area ¢(
tion of the Unit
trade is shown
which gives the
ness of the vari
51.2; German,
"' merican, 1.6.
Dr. James H.
Columbia Univ{
Cosmopolitan:
short in succq
through being
themselves to
Is thg peat
a2 ‘ho
st
1 uses
lake all the
‘ach New Yo
As a Nn}
Georgia may
marble belt
length o3
Ar]
lina
The
ible, as
many pla
white a
und.
The KI
promise 0
gold over
amounted
new stri
memorab,
it on the ouf
decline, hav
duced over
Nome mini
creasing as
extended ov]
ritory, proj
to the Arc
from the J
threads from”tn
of those hypocritical virtues that form the warp and A yrenar
bil dishonest “succcess.” We need more Emersons. We need mo
13% sociologists—not mere grammarians of social science, but d re
ood students of the body and bone and blood of human nature and po
ais of its best individual and social development. We neeq to refor :
eas of the practical and to remember that truest practicality is the we
f seed, the cultivation of its growth, and the natural use of the fruits
| is is no implication that the needs are crying. It is rather an analysis
| that bids a welcome to the tendency to fill the great necessities. There ig more
thought given to these matters now than ever before. The real fight is com
—that between the thinkers and the shallow in prominent place. But vir-
ing
ng
zens. The thinkers shall find hearers when they lift up their voices, More.
over, the people are tired of corruption and dishonor. The systems of evil are
rotten in their own foundations and will fall. Is it too much to prophesy an age
of deeper and more serious thought, wherein will be applied, as against cor-
x £2 Fd |
City-Bred Farmers---
A Prophecy.
By RE. Downer.
ing Worlds
riding to n
play its eq
according
Wong, wil
ernment
Chinas
visplays
‘urgy, ag
besides a
ine arms,
connected
Chinese
Varied In
will cove
years in
Empire,
The tog.s
evidence {ey
ling the fof
to all sorts,
and rest
light of
nard to
time it
the urban population which must be fed from the farms in-
cr ;, the tillers of the soil become fewer in number and poorer |
quality. Those who remain to care for the crops have one
fau't which the city dweller is quick to notice. The worker some: |
how does not put the spirit into his tasks that the eight-hour-day
man in town exhibits. The city boy grows up in an atmosphere!
of hustle. With his ability to make every moment count the city. !
ray et out of a farm immeasurably move than the average rurai
¢ Acricultural schools and a business instinct and training are not bad
tosututes for farm breeding; and it will not be surprising if the next few:
years witness #n exodus of city-bred workmen, filled with spirit and speed, '
ange
a5¢
in
Raokiover’'s Magazine.
:
find out
towns
are us
gether,
those
roads
of sp
and
to £0
greate
times | o the districts [which produce the origiral matter for all the breakfast foods — woulq
ton Jig
i