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New Ulm review. (New Ulm, Brown County, Minn.) 1892-1961, May 25, 1892, Image 7

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn89081128/1892-05-25/ed-1/seq-7/

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^*elSS
OLALIA.
lAS
it but a dream—a
'fantastic vision? Seat
ed here in my studio,
bringing common sense
to bear upon the subject,
it seems so vague and,
impossible that I almost
refuse to admit the exis
tence of that which I my-
self beheld a few brief months ago and
yet when I turn my gaze towards the
picture on which I have of late ex
pended all my skill, I am convinced it
was no dream, but a strange reality.
It is the picture of a lady, beautiful
beyond description, with dark brown
hair and liquid eyes that gaze upon
the beholder with a look in which is
shadowed forth an unutterable sor
row. No' it was no dream let me
once again recall the circumstances in
which I beheld the original of this ex
quisite vision.
In the course of my late Continental
tour (undertaken partly for pleasure
and partly to assist me in my artistic
studies) I found myself, one stormy
evening, upon a hillside in the pro
vince of Old Castile. It may seem
strange that I should be in such a po
sition. The reason was, briefly, as
follows. Some few hours before I had
been directed to a certain' village,
where I intended to pass the night,
but I had either been wrongly inform
ed or had not properly understood
my informant, for I had hopelessly
lost my way.
The scene, viewed through the gath
ering twilight and driving rain, had a
very sombre aspect. Below the emi
nence on which I stood stretched a
narrow valley, the hills that bounded
which were thinly clothed with cork
trees, whose branches waved in the
fierce wind. I eagerly gazed for any
sign of human habitation and was de
lighted to observe on the summit of a
small hill not far from where I stood a
large mansion.
1 rapidly made my way towards it,
but as I approached I could see no
lights or other signs of life, and from
the dilapidated condition a nearer in
spection showed it to be in I reluct
ly came to the conclusion that it was
deserted. However, it would at least
afford me shelter from the rain and I
was then in sucfrcaseasto be thankful
for small mercies. I accordingly quick
ened my pace, and in another moment
was standirig before the habitation.
It was a very old structure, with
quaint gable ends and time-stained
Avails on which the ivy clung. Over
tne massive ironclad door there was a
curious stone figure representing a
crouching dragon with" distended
mouth, as if about to leap from its
perch and rend a victim. Taken al
together, I thought as I stood before
the great doorway and gazed upon
this work of art that it was not the
most cheerful pJace of shelter for a
wanderer in a foreign land to come
across, 'twixt the gloamin' and the
mirk," when he had lost his way and
was exposed to a violent storm. But
"necessity knows no law." I ap
proached and beat upon the door.
As the knocking caused only a
strange, hollow sound, I concluded
that there was no person within. I
therefore considered myself perfectly
justified in lorcing an entrance, and,
to accomplish that end, pushed
against the door. Somewhat to my
surprise it yielded slowly, and, not
without a little hesitation, I entered.
When my eyes became accustomed to
the darkness, I discovered that I
stood in a large hall at the other end
of which arose a flight of gloomy-look
ing stairs. A door opened out of the
left side of this hall, through which I
passed and found myself in a large
room. The floor was covered with a
thick layer of dust, and the few articles
of furniture the room contained were
plentifully sprinkled with it. One or
two antique and rickety chairs were
scattered various position? in the
centre of the apartment a venerable
oaken table stood, and the walls were
hung with mouldy tapestry. I was un
able to make these observations by
the tast-deepemng twilight which en
tered through a large window at one
end of the apartment.
As the storm showed no signs of
abating, I determined to remain, at
least for a short time and, drawing a
chair into the embrasure of the win
dow, brushed the dust from the seat
and carefully sat down. It creaked
under my weight, but fortunately did
not.break. I then selected a cigarette
from my case and, having lit it, pre
pared to make myself as comfortable
as possible. I had sat thus some lit
tle itime when I heard that which
caused me'to start in astonishment,
not unmixed with dread, for there
•cameitoimy ears, 'midst the sighing of
"the storm, the sound of sweet sad
anusic. It.came, as nearly as I could
(distinguish, ifrom one of the upper
apartments- of the mansion. Filled
witih mingled feelings of curiosity and
•ame (for the (Circumstances were, it
wffl treadily ibe admitted, awe-inspir
ing), I emerged from the room and
•Sibood.onGe more in the entrance hall.
The imusic sounded nearer, and I
caMtaoxmly began to ascend the wide
and .dismal staircase, the boards of
which .creaked ominously beneath my
weight. Arriving at the top I found
myself in a .corridor from which sever
al doors opeaed, and saw a faint light
shining from the half-open door-way
of a room lacing tihe head of the stair
case. As I -stood, lU-neertain whether
to advance or retare, the melody
ceased and naught was heard but the
tumult of the storm. At length I
advanced towards the room, and-—not
without trepidation, I confess—
entered.
The apartment in which I stood
was of considerable size, the walls and
jioor were of polished oak, and the
furniture ifc contained was handsome,
massive, and fantastically carved in
quaint and curious devices. I did
not perceive whence ca*me the mellow
light that pervaded the room. But it
was not these details that., chjefly
attracted my attention.
¥i
1^.
Seated at the opposite end of the
apartment was a lady of transcen
dent beauty. A lute lay beside her
from which she had, doubtless, called
forth the plaintive strains I had
heard. As I entered she raised her
head and gazed upon me with a
glance of ineffable tenderness and half
rose from her seat but her expression
suddenly changed to one of deep grief
and yearning, and sinkingback into her
former position she said in a low,
sweet voice, "Alas it is not he! When
wilt thou return, my loved one?
Long, long have I waited—weary my
heart hath grown for thy return—and
yet thou comest not." A feeling of
dread came over me, but, approach
ing the lair vision, I said in a tone I
scarce recognized as my own. "Who
are you, lady.'"
Not a word £he answered, but slow
ly rising to her feet she stretched forth
her slender arm and pointed to* the
opposite wall. I turned and looked
in the direction indicated. My gaze
fell upon a life-sized portrait of a
beautiful woman. It was she! the
mysterious being in whose presence I
then was but her face had no trace of
sorrow shadowed forth in it her eyes
beamed with merriment and her
mouth was curved with a charming
smile. Underneath the picture was in
scribed in scarce decipherable letters
the following:—"Olalia de Viedma,
1559." On reading this a thrill of
horror went through me, and hastily
turning I looked for my mystic neigh
bor. She was gone.
This last inexplicable event (for she
could'not have left the apartment
without my knowledge) was too
much for my overstrained nerves. I
sank on. the floor unconscious.
I must have lain thus a considerable
time, for when I regained my senses
the light of day pervaded the room,
entering through a large mullioned
window. I raised myself and leant
upon my elbow.
Good heaven3 this could not be the
room in which I had beheld the beaut
eous Olalia. It was all but destitute
of furniture, and had a general ap
pearance of having been abandoned
to decay for many years.. There was
nothing in the room to remind me of
the previous night—even the picture
was gone.
Hastily rising to my feet I left the
room. Although I had not entirely
recovered from my fright 1 determined
to take a hasty survey of the mansion
to aseerfain if it was inhabited. My
search, however, was unavailing. In
no part of the building could I discov
er aught but desolution and decay,
and at length I emerged therefrom
with a sigh of relief*
The storm had now passed quite
away, and I had not continued my
journey above half an hour when .1
met a goatherd, who directed me to
the nearest village, when I obtained
food and rest, in both ot which I stood
greatly in need.
I could not obtain any information
regarding the mysterious mansion,
beyond the fact that it had once be
longed to an old Castillian family.
With this I was forced to be content,
and soon after I returned to England.
But it will be long ere the memory
of that lovely vision shall fade from
my mind. Perchance, long years ago,
•a knight set forth from that now des
olate mansion, and met a violent
death far from his home^ and all he
loved—and a lady fair sighed with a
weary longing for him who could nev
er return. Who can say?
I must, perforce, think it but a
dream—a'dream it may have been—
but surely one of the most relastic
dreams that ever mortal dreamt.
What a Horse can Do.
A horse will travel 400. yards
four and onehalf minutes at a walk,
400 yards in two minutes at a trot,
400 yards an one minute at a gallop.
The usual work of a horse is taken
at 22,500 pounds raised one foot per
minute for eight hours per day. A
horse will carry 250 pounds twenty
five miles per day of eight hours. An
average draught horse will draw 1,
600 pounds twenty-three miles per
day on a level road,, weight included.
The average weight of a horse is 1,000
pounds, and his strength is equivalent
to that of five men.
The greatest amount a horse can
pull in a horizontal line is 900 pounds,
but he can only do this momentarily
in continued exertion probably half
of this is the limit. He attains his
growth in fiye years, willlive twenty
five, average sixteen years. A horse
will live twenty-five days on water
without solid food, seventeen days
without eating or drinking, but only
five days on solid food without drmk-
in
8-
Utility of Rats.
It has often been said that the glove
makers of Paris make use in their
trade of the skins of rats which are
caught in the sewers, but this has
been denied. Certainly the material
would not be strong enough to
successfully counterfeit the kid unless
it were for the thumb part only, which
is generally of a thinner and different
kind of leather from the rest. ,-*•*,
A thrifty Welshman at one* time
exhibited himself publicly in England
attired in a costume composed from
top to toe|of ratskins, which he had
spent three years aud a half collecting.
The dress was made entirely by him
self. I consisted of hat, neckerchief,
coat, wateteoat, trousers, tippet,
gaiters, and .shoes. The number of
rats required^ to complete the suit
was five hundred and seventy. Most
curious of the -garments was the
tippet, composed entire!
a A
JX"*
THE FAEM AKD GABDEfr
MATTERS OF INTEREST TO THE
FARMER.
*r*
How to Select a Cow—Feed for
"js^Cows Before Calving—What
We Should Do— Farming-by
m&£>** Electricity—Farming
mm-®*11' Without Pigs.
§M How to Select a Good Cow.
The following we find in an exchange:
The head of«an extremely good cow
should be small, as the best milkers
are fine boned. It should also be long
and "cut up" under the neck, with a
dishing face. The neckshouldbethin
and comparatively long. The hips
should be high. The hind legs ot the
cow that is best for dairy purposes,
should be somewhat crooked, and it
was here that breeders in making
selections, often make mistakes by
preferring cattle with a leg quite
straight up and down behind. There
should be a slight "sag" to the belly,
but the animal should be on the whole
a little wedge-shaped from back to
front, the hip being higher than the
shoulder, and the line from belly to
brisket inclining upward. The tails
of dairy cattle are generally
of pretty good length, with
a considerable taper. It is important
in selecting for breeding that all these
points should be known, it being im
possible to make the best purchases
by symmetry alone. There are four
points that should be especially stud
ied, and which serve as infallible indi
cations of milking qualities. First, the
milk veins, so-called, passing from the
forward side of the udder along the
under side of the animal toward the
front. They are either small or large,
straight or crooked. Consider the
size of these veins, for the size is one
of the infallible tests of a good milker.
Be careful to see whether the vein is
double or not, for it sometimes
branches out, and if double, the two
should be added together, because
they may be equal to one large vein.
The veins sometimes form an angle on
the front side ot the udder. This sel
dom occurs, except on a very good
cow. On calves and fleshy cattle it is
difficult to find the veins, therefore the
test can only be applied to cows in
milking condition. A net work of
veins on the perineum is a good test
and indicates milk. The chine, reach
ing from the shoulder half way to the
hip should be examined. If it
be double, the cow is above the aver
age, sometimes with a single chine is a
depression into which two fingers can
be laid, if the animal is not too fat.
This is good. It indicates a lax phys
ical condition or the animal, and this
is favourable for either milk or beef.—
Journal of Agriculture.
What We Should Do.
Give the hens liberty so that eggs
will be strong and fertile.
Give the sitters proper care and at
tention.
Put sulphur in the nests to destroy
vermin.
Trap off the rats now or they will
catch the young chicks later.
Feed the to-be sitters corn get them
fat for the job—it's a hard one.
Set eggs from some of the Mediter
ranean or Hamburg class. You want
hens that can work off corn, as all
farmers feed more corn than anything
else, and those classes do not get too
fat to lay when fed corn. There are
exceptions.
Get all your flock of one kind you
will then take more interest in the hen
business.
Go in for eggs. You do not get much
out of fowls sold to the market unless
you have a regular trade, and there is
not one farmer in twenty that has it.
You will kill and eat all your surplus
cockerels.
Why don't you build a warm and
dry house for, say thirty or forty
hens, thpn next fall and winter take
care of them and feed for eggs? Be
careful not to get too many fowls for
your room give each fowl eight or
ten feet square of the space, and if
convenient letjthem have an extra
room with six or ten inches of hay
and oat chaff to work in.
Do nol be afraid to spare the chicks
a quart or tAvo of milk, as there is
nothing better for them from two
days to fiye years of age, if you keep
them that long—but probably not.
Some shipper will come *along in Au
gust and give you six to eight cents
per pound for cockerels and hens, and
away they go.
I have seen chicks on farms that
actually did not grow to three-quarters
the size they ought to have been by
November* 1. Now I wish to know
what a farmer wants of fowls unless
he can take care of them? Then
again, *'too many fowls for the room.
You can get more out of ten in a hen
house 10x10 than you can out of 20
in the same space, with less care and
trouble. It's easy' to give advice but
hard to make folks take lit.—A
Farmer's Son, in Country Gentle
man,
Feedffor Cows BefoYe'CafvIhglgj
If a cow is bred to farrow her calf "in
the spring the care she receives during
the winter has much to do with her
usefulness the ensuing season. Most
cows suffer from Deingfed too dry, innu.
tritious food. Straw and hay are
constipating, and this keeps the sys
tem feverish and unhealthy. Corn
stalks are move laxative, and there
fore better, but they must be free
from smut and aught to be free from
mildew. An exchange says that the
cow that is to drop a calf in the spring
should not be grain-fed, as it is too
fattening. She should have either
wheat bran or fine middlings, accord
ing as she is laxative or the reverse.
The wheat bran goes Jbesfc with
hay and straw,. The middlings with
a eornstock ration. These will fur
nish plenty of material for the frame
work of the foetus. A week or ten days
before ths\ calf is dropped, give the
cow two or three ears daily, of soft
corn. Old farmers who have tried
this say that it is excellent to insure
easy parturition and freedom from
caked bag and milk feyer afterwards.
It relieves constipation caused by dry
feeding all winter, but the plan is easily
tried and can do no harm if it does no
good. If the cow is a deep milker, do
not let her getfat before calving. That
the cause of enormous losses, and
always of the best animals. After
danger* parturition is past, a gener
ous feed will soon bring the cow up to
the greatest milk production of which
she is capable..s
if?
J* How to Destroy Ants.
Those who are annoyed with ants
about their hives and honey, should
remember that they might be gotten
rid of by the free use of salt. In the
spring of the year, especially, ants
will often be found in immense num
bers above the brood-chambers of the
hives, between and over the honey
sections. We are not conscious of
ever having seen a colony of bees that
we thought were harmed by the ants,
but certainly no one wants them
about when it can be prevented.
If the bees are of any strength, they
will Is eep them away from the honey
it is the heat coming from the colony
of bees that the ants are after, as this
is a great help in hatching out their
eggs. Although we have never known
the idea to be advanced, we are in
clined to the belief that the main
reason why ants dislike salt, is because
it is a preservative, and would pre
vent the hatching of their eggs.
Whether this theory is correct or not.
it is a fact that salt plentifully usedin
a hive wherd they have taken up their
residence, will cause them to disap
pear. Crates of honey may be piled
on the floor in a convenient place, and
be in no danger from these pests, if
salt is first sprinkled on the floor.—
Indiana Farmer.
Farming by Electricity.
Some of our rising youngjournalists
are finding food for amusement in a
bill recently introduced by Senator
Peffer, of Kansas, providing for the
establishment of an experimental
station for the purpose of determining
if electricity can be profitably used
and applied as a motive power the
propulsion of farm machinery. Now
we would like to place ourselves on
record with the opinion, that if con
gress would make as liberal an appro
priation for this purpose as it did for
certain idiotic experiments in "rain
making'" not long ago, which served
to make that august body the laugh
ing stock of the civilized world, and
the business could be put in charge of
some such intelligent and technically
trained electrical engineers as those,
for example, who have within a few
years revolutionized our methods of
municipal transportation, the ulti
mate result would not be one whit less
valuable to the people of the United
States, than that ot the historic ap
propriation of $30,000 with which
Morse's experimental telegraph line
was built from Washington to Balti
more half a century ago.
Farming Without Pigs.
A somewhat eccentric farmer wh'jch
we once knew took the thoroughly
Jewish view of the hog as an unclean
animal and would neither eat its flesh
nor have one about his place. Most
of what usually wen,t to the pig pen
was given to the poultry. He claimed
that his hens laid more eggs than they
would if obliged to travel and feed
over land contaminated by the hog.
Our experience has always been that
a few pigs—at least, enough to eat the
skim milk from the dairy and be fat
tened mainly on small apples and po
tatoes—could be kept with scarcely
any cost. Such pork is sweet and not
unhealthful. It is the keeping of large
droves of hogs together, feeding them
on ground that has been poisoned by
their excrement that gives rise to dis
eased pork and creates the dislike
against pork as a food. No other
animal furnishes so much or so good
meat for,the food it eats as the pig.—
American Cultivator.
Some Short Rows.
Sharp plows do much better work,
besides being much easier on hand
and team.
Spring is the time of year that the
carbolic or kerosene spray or wash
spray should be freely used for hen
mitea. You can clear the roosts and
nests by this means.
One of the most important things
about farming is to pulverize the
ground well before planting. Rollers,
drags and such things should be made
before they are needed.
Many farmers do not try a variety of
crops. By experiment in a small way
with several crops frequently, a man
is led into new lines that pay much
better than the old ones.
There is no class of stock that can
be improved so rapidly by a proper
selection and careful breeding, or that
will degenerate so rapidly with neglect,
as the hog. '1**«* "J-**-
Perfect mutton will oe firm and
juicy, a rather dark red in color, and
with a good deal of hard, clear, white
fat, much more in proportion to the
lean than in beef.
"The essence of all profitable bee
keeping," says Father Langstroth, "is
contained in the golden rule, 'Keep
your stocks strong.' If you can not
succeed in doing this, the more money
you invest in bees the heavier will be
your losses.""
EOB THE YOUM PEOPLE.
INTERESTING MISCELLANY FOR
BRIGHT YOUNG FOLKS.
An UhThvlted Guest--Aspiration
Versus Content—Showing One's
Gratitude—-"What Next?"—
g* A Nation of Athletes— 4
iK ',*-• TooT-ittie.
An Uninvited Guest.
Well-ventilated sleeping-rooms are
very desirable but a bamboo hut
with an opening instead of a door,
and not far off from, an Indian ]ungle,
is note*'exactly an alluring bed
chamber. It was justin such a place,
however, that a brave boy awoke
suddenly one moonlight night, his
companion, an experienced hunter,
being fast asleep quite near him. For
beds, each had a blanket spread on
the ground, and the boy had drawn
his up over his feet as far as the
knees.
He wondered what made him wake
up so suddenly, and as he looked
around in the moonlight a fold of the
blanket near his feet had a curiously
heavy feeling, and there was a queer
smell around like that of raw pota
toes. The boy gazed at the blanket
with an* apprehensive loathing, and
was scarcely surprised when the fold
began to move, and one of the most
venomous of Indian serpents, acobra
de-capello, slowly reared itself up aft
er the fashion of its species. It had
been startled by some involuntary
movement of the boy, and the latter
knew now that if he stirred or made
any noise his life would be the forfeit.
Cobras do not like to be disturbed, as
they preter to do all that themselves.
So, not daring even to call his com
panion, our hero lay thinking with
lightning-like speed over all the things
he had ever heard about managing
dangerous serpents. Nothing feasible
occurred to him, except that his re
volver was in his pocket, and fortu
nately, on the side that he was not
lying on. Could he not cautiously
draw it out and send a bullet through
that horrid head, which was adorned
in front with a pair of spectacles? No,
answered commonsense, you can't.
Look at that swaying movement on
the first guarded attempt, and what
ever you do, do not stir.
It was no't ai)Ieasant predicament,
and there seemed to be no way out ot
If there were only a snake-charmer
it
at hand to lure the ugly reptile out of
the hut' An idea at last. He'd try
the charming himself, as the creatures
liked poor music, and forthwith he
began a low humming. It was a
brave attempt, and the boy's voice
faltered at first, for his dangerous
tyrant was moving its head back and
forth and trom sid° to side in appar
ent disapproval. But presently he
saw tnat the creature was keeping
time to his humming, and this encour
aged him to sing louder.
The cobra rose higher, until it al
most seemed to stand on end, and
moved off the blanket. It crawled
slowly away to the opening, and
then performed a series of gymnastics
to show his delight in the music, the
boy keeping steadfly on without tak
ing" his eyes from the serpant. But
all the time he was grasping the butt
ot his revolver, and drawing it slowly
forth. His snakeship, however, was
getting so near the doorway in his
delighted antics that he might roll
himself outside and disappear without
the necessity of shooting him, when
back again came the tormenting
creature, and took up his first
position on the blanket.
Evidently he could not leave so
charming a musician, but the wear}
performer had a quite enough of
him, and aiming directly at the
reared head, he sent three bullets as
near it as possible. The convulsive
movements of the twisting and un
twisting snake took it quite through
the opening which it had declined to
pass before, and there it lay as mo
tionless as a stone.
Meanwhile the reports had awaken
ed the sleeping hunter who wished to
know what his young companion was
making all that racket for. But
when he was escorted to the ugly
looking mass of snake outside in the
moonlight, he was filled with admir
ation of the boy's coolness and
courage, while he shuddered at his
narrow escape. The creature was
now, however, as its conqueror said,
"considered strictly as a cobra-di
capello of no further account."
Aspiration Versus Content.
The boundary line between a legiti
mate aspiration and a reasonable
content is sometimes hard to find.
Contentment may be construed by
some as lack of enterprise, and so
more or less ignoble, while aspiration
may and often does become mere
restlessness and discontent. That
all depends on what we aspire to and
what we are content with. The one
who wants to be a little better, a
little wiser, a little richer than he is,
whose aspiration takes the form of
gradual growth by littles, will proba
bly realize his desires. And if he re
fuses to fight the inevitable and im
mutable limitations that are set
about him, even while constantly
bettering his condition, he may yet be
content and happy.
Great estates are built up by slow
and* gradual accretion running
through the years. Content with
slow gains, the builders or gatherers
of these estates .have still striven to
increase them according to the
natural laws of growth in such
matters. j^f
Great scholarship is" the result of
constant aspiration, unflagging indus
try, add tireless diligence. One fact
at a time stored away, one principle
after another mastered, one language
acquired by littles and then anothei*,
-L
until the cells of the brain are filled1
one at a time—thus are scholars
made. There is no royal road to
learning every man must climb the S
rugged steep to the height "where- |J§
Fame's proud temple shines afar" on V"tl
his own feet and one step *at a time. "!. 4
Some get over the ground faster than
others, but each goes up the steep as
cent for himself, and not otherwise.
So fine character is the result of in-,
numerable conquests over self and
selfishness aud ease and evil and vic
ious tendency. It is built up as the
coral animal builds the reefs, one act
at a time, and a great many of them
going to the erection of the lofty struc
ture.
Now when a young man or woman
can truly say: "I am growing in
knowledge day by day, improving the
faculties God gave me to the best of
my ability I am building noble
character by daily adherence to the
right and daily avoidance of the
wrong I am not unreasonably fight
ing against my inevitable environ
ment I am reaching up and out to all
the good I can touch I am submitting
cheerfully to what I cannot help,"
are they not about right?—Sel.
"What Next?"
"A new boy came into our office to
day," said a wholesale grocery mer
chant to his wife at the supper table.
"He was hired by the request of the
senior member, who thought the boy
gave promise of good things. But I
feel sure that boy will be out of the of
fice in lass than a week."
"What makes you think so?"
"Because the first thing he wanted
to know was just exactly how much
he was expected to do."
"Perhaps you will change your mind
about him."
"Perhaps I shall," replied the mer
chant, "but I don't think so."
Three days later the business man
said to his wife: "Aboutthat boy you
remember I mentioned two or three
days ago. Well, he is the best boy
that ever entered the store."
"How did you find that out?"
"In the easiest way in the world.
The first morning after the boy began
work, he performed very faithfully
and systematically the exact duties
assigned, which he had been so careful
to have explained to him. When he
had finished he came to me and said,
'Mr. I have finished all that
work. Now what can I do?'
"I was a little surprised, but I gave
him a little job of work, and forgot all
about him until he came into my
room with* the question, "What
next?" That settled me. He was th*
first boy that ever entered my office
who was willing and volunteered to do
more than was assigned to him. I pie
dict a cuccessful career for that boy
as a business man."
Business men know capacity when
they see it, and they make a note ot it.
Willingness to do more than the as
signed task is one of the chief stepping
stones to commercial success.
Showing One's Gratitu e.
To an American the sight of men
kissing each other is an odd one, yet
the practice is common among most
of the people of continental Europe
Captain Sargent, of the steamship
Indiana, recently went to Libau. in
Russia, with his ship laden with flour
for famine sufferers. Of course the
Russians were very grateful for the
food given by Americans to their
countrymen, and they wished to
show their appreciation. When Cap
tain Sargent returned home from his.
trip he was accosted by a reporter
"What has become of your beard,
Captain?" for a long growth of brown
whiskers adorned his chin when he
sailed.
"Well, now, believe me or not, but
have not put a pair of scissors to that
beard since I left. What happened to
it? Why, it was kissed awav. Talk
about your gratitude—the Russians
are the people for showing it, I tell
you! During the four days Ave were in
Libau I was hugged, embraced and
kissed until my beard actually lell
away.
"Why, the Russians would come up
to me, and I would put out my hand
to shake with them, but no, siree—
that wasn't good enough for them.
Plumb into my arms they would come,
their arms would go around my neck,
and for the next two minutes there
was a catch-as-catch-can kissing
match.
A Nation of Athletes.
Because a boy goes to work is no
reason why he should never kick a.
football, pull an oar, or run or skate,
writes Foster Coates in The Ladies'
Home Journal. If all these out door
sports were given up, America would
soon become a nation of puny pig
mies. Our men would be holloweyed
yellow-skinned and flat-chested, in
stead of rosy-cheeked and robust as
they are now. Walk to and from
school, to the office or the shop in the
evenings, twice or three times a week,
go out to lectures or social gatherings
or to see some good dramatic per
formance. Go to bed early. Do not
get into the habit of staying up late.
Arise early and you will find that the
hours you give to work or study will
be of incalculable benefit to you. When
you work, devote every thought to
what you have in hand. When you
study, fasten your mind upon the
subject before you. When yon play
let no thought of business or study
disturb you.
%^v Too Little.
Teacher. "If ten carpenters work
ed for ten days at seventy-five cents a
day, what would they get?
Hugh. "They'd get cheated.' cause
papa says two dollars a day is their
price-'tef
-j?j
mask
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