Newspaper Page Text
THE LEWISTON TELLER.
CARL A. FORKSMAN, Editor and Prop LEWISTON. IDAHO. There are six Siamese students at Westminster college, a small institu tion at New Wilmington, Pa. In nu merous other educational institutions there are students from countries in which enlightment is yet in its creep ing infancy. It is not alone ICs the young that the "lurid literature 1 " of the day gets its work in. The old have to suffer, too. A man in.Pennsylvania whols60years old became crazy from reading sensa tional stories. It is as true as over that there is no fool like an old fool. London, Berlin, Vienna, and Paris have provided themselves with under ground roads or are preparing to do so. IiOndon was the flrst city to meet this problem, and its underground roads have proved the swiftest, most satisfactory, and most profitable sys tem yet provided for a great city. Pharmacy in the future will be more intelligent in this country. There are already forty colleges of pharmacy in the United States. The next advance in the same line should be an effort to prohibit the adultera tion of drugs. That evil is scarcely less than the adulteration of druggists. A large part of the oxpenses of lit igation is borne by the taxed portion of the public. Many litigants pay no taxes, and they are the ones who largely supply the courts with busi ness. The taxable costs under the law nre only a small part of what tho hearing of any case costs the tax payer. _ To have milk shelves in a kitchen, where all manner of cooking, broiling and baking is going on, is the surest way to spoil your cream and butter. In a store, or a workshop, or a farm house, and especially a dairy-room, it ;is a very good motto to "have a place !for everything and everything in its 'place." __ The Buddhists of Japan think they have the world-wide religion because it is based upon humanitarian princi ples and propose to become propa gandists of their doctrine. A Budd hist bank will be established for the purpose of gathering funds with which o spread into all the world the gospel of Buddha.__ There was never yet a faith that did not mean a struggle after truth; nor even yet a superstition from which higher knowledge cannot learn more of truth. In all that is written, sung or said, nothing is true but that whlc.'i prompts and gives wings to aspiration nothing false but that which works lor degradation. It is flbid to be a euriocs fact that all Of the girls in Wellesley college who lead their classes are blondes. But it is curious only from the fact that tko dark haired girls who happen to be in that particular college are lacking in conspicuous brightness. It should not be considered strange that the blondes ean hold their own. Autograph hunters will have to pay liberally for the signature of tho late General Spiuner. llis name, as he wrote, now commauds a good fig ure. There are Btill in existence many first class copies of his strange signature in the shapo of war-time greenbacks and fractional currency. But they are kept as curiosities and command a premium. IClectricity has been put to driving drills. One is in use ou the warship Maine, building at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. A three-quarter-inch bole in a three-quarter-inch plate can be drillod in less than a minute. It is one of the prospects of tho near future that elec tric drills will be used for sinking deep artesian wells as well as for rapid tun neling in the mining regions. A Large share of the failures in farming arise from the attempt to overtax one's strength, ability, capi tal or knowledge. The most success ful men in any branch of business are those who commence in a small way, and who learn from experience and who gain strength by actual practice V> enable them to double up their operations or to enlarge their field of kork. Women always know how to stmd ap for each other. According to Mrs. S. F. Hershey, woman is a more su perior being than man. She says: "Woman lives longer than man, goes Insane less numerously, commits Bui eide one-third as often, makes one tenth the demand on the public purse for support in jails, prisons and alms houses, and in every regard manifests potentiality above that of man." When the world sees a man old and hale it wants to know how it was that be became so old and so hearty. Jules Simon was recently written to and solicited to tell how he had crrlvod at such A ripe old age. Ho answered that he did not know; that for thirty year* be bad worked about the s-mo number of hours daily, and had not changed his manner of living in all Ume. Probably bit length ef paarn ia dun to tba latter fact morn thaa to aaythiag else. SOME BIRDS THAT TALK. THE MAGPIE, JACKDAW. CROW AND PARROT. Sow* Talaablo Hlals oa Edatatlag tha Parrot to ba a Brllliaat Coarrnatlaaallat ail Eicbcir Protballjr—Tba Iron ;) Kind la a fair Talker. ho most accomplished talker of Indian birds is the mynah, u handsome purple-black bird, with a short tail, orange beak and legs, and bright yel low ear-flaps, which run around to the back of its head like a broad collar. It is a bold, lively bird, with a mellow song and whistle of its own. Its power of reproducing human speech is wonderful, and it exhibits tho great est anxiety that the tones shall be cor rect, repealing them softly to itself, with its head on one side, and then shouting out tho words. Another bird which talks better than most, and whistles better than any, is the piping crow, it is a lively blaeU-and-white bird, : s large ns a rook, but far more clegunt in form. Several specimens inhabit tho zoologi cal gardens, but tho best is in tho western uvittry, where ho whistles "Merrily Danced tho Quaker' in tones like a f.utc. The American blue jay says tho London Spectator, a most brilliant creature, flushing with hues of emerald and turquoise, is an admirable mimic of many sounds, even of the human voice. Wilson speuks of ono "which had all the tricks and loquacity of a purrot; pilfered all it could convenient ly carry off; answered to its name with great sociability when called up on, and could articulate a cumber of words pretty distinctly." Jackdaws ana the American crow can also be taught to talk. But in all the crow tribe, except I fie piping crow, the re production of human speech seems to bo moro a trick of mimacry than an effort to acquire a substitute for sontr. Parrots, mynahs, and some cockatoos take infinite pains to learn correctly and increaso their stock of phrases. But the magpie or jay mimics what it finds easy, and takes no further trouble. Even the raven seldom has many words at command, though, owing to its deep, resonant voice and imposing size, it attracts more atten tion than a chattering jay. Tho raven is the largest creature except man that can "talk," and fancy and superstition have naturally exaggerated its powers. But clever But the crow tribe, though us clever as the parrots, are not so easily do mesticated, and their beaks and tongues aro less well suited for the musical sounds of human speech. Most of the parrots, and some cockatoos and macaws, have both the mentul and physical gifts necessary to make them excel in talking. Parrots of all classes have fleshy tongues, moistened with saliva, and the arched beak provides a substitute for our palate and teeth. They have also wide nostrils and their natural voices arc loud enough and strong enough to equal tho volume of human speech. In disposition they aro highly imita tive. Cockatoos aro almost like mon keys in mimickiug men. For instance, if you bow to them they will make elaborate bows. If you put your head on one side they will often do so too. But with many parrots tho de sire to learn new sounds is not, we think, a mere trick of mimicry, but the desire to possess a song— un ac complishment with which to please, identical in kind with the motive which prompts the young of singing birds to learn their parents' notes, or, in the case of the canary, to learn and improve upon a song, not their own, which they have transmitted to their posterity. The following account of the develop ment of the talking power in a young parrot of which we have seen much late ly is, wc submit, a strong confirmation of this view. Our informant is a lady whose sympathies aro by no means limited to parrots, as the context will show, and her observations aro wholly reliable: "Wo bought Burry," she writes, "when he was quite young, be fore hi9 feathers are fully grown, and we had him a year before ho began to talk. Then he begun to mako very odd noises, as if he was tryiug to say words, but could not quite do it. Now he constantly learns new words and sentences, and early in tho morning 1 hear him practicing them over to him self, exactly as our babies used to do in the early morning hours in bed. If he improves as much in the next ten years as ho has in the last he should bo able to recite a poem if we teach him." There is no reason why a parrot should not continue to increase his stock of phrases ns ha grows older, if the supposition that he looks upon it as an accomplishment for which ho is in some way the better, is correct. The butcher bird, for instance, and the sedge warbler do not rest satisfied with learning their own notes, but often learn and reproduce the notes of other birds in great perfection. Tbe mocking bird, which, like tbe sedge warbler, has a fine song of his own, does the same. But the parrot has the advantage in being very long-lived and constantly in human company. The young parrot mentioned before gave an excellent instance of the as sociation in its mind of words with things. Before it could talk, it was friendly with a kitten which used to enter Its cage. This kitten was sent away, and for a year there was not Mother in toe house. Thea a gray of til to Persian kitten was bougnv, and when introduced to tbe parrot was at once addressed as "Kitty," a word he had hardly heard since the departure of the other. The correctness of parrots' imitation, the result, no doubt, of their careful practice, is remarkable. A lady of the Dutch court, visiting the palace in the wood at the Hague, soon after the death of the late Queen of Holland, was startled by hearing the queen's voice exactly reproduced. It was a white cockatoo that had beeu a great pet of hers, which was in a cor ner of tbe room. SONOMA'S SEVEN MOONS. Legend ExpUlalag Item the Fertile Valle? De rived Hi Naae. There have been many explanations offered in times past as to why the name of Sonoma was given to this valley by the native tribe of Indians who. upon the advent of the white man over one hundred years ago, peopled this section of the country by thou sands. Of course we ull know that Sonoma valley in aborigine means "Vailey of the Moon," says the Sonoma Tribune, but just why that nume was bestowed upon it is unolher question, and one, too, which we bolievo has never bean satisfactorily answered. Recently, in talking to an aged ludian who had resided ou the oid Nick Car rigau ranch for many years, and who was an old man when Gen eral Vallejo settled in Sonoma fifty years ago ' and must now bo something over one hundred years of age, he stated the reason the valley was called Sonoma was because it had "heep rouchee moon" (trans lated into good English, many moons). Further inquiry developed the fact that between the town of Sonoma and the Bella Vista vineyards, a distance of four or five miles, the moon when it is full can be seen by the traveler to rise seven times in succession over tho mountains in the east owing to their peculiar formation. This phenomenon has been witnessed by many old resi dents in the early evening at the rising of the full moon. This, no doubt, has been observed by the Indians, and hence the namo "Valley of the Moon." Paper Horse i hon« The need of a more or less elastic horseshoe has led to many trials and experiments, which, not resulting in anything satisfactory, has kept the farrier's art in the old rut of a to farrier's art in the samo old rut of olden days. A new horseshoe has been made in Germany, and it is con structed of parchment paper or n paper prepared by a saturation of oil, turpentine, etc., and impenetrable to dampness or moisture. Thin layers of such paper are glued together un til the deBired thickness necessary for the horseshoe is attained by an ag glutinant, which is indifferent to the action of moisture, and which will not pet brittle when dry (especially casein gum, chrome gelutino, copper chromate, ammonia, or a mixture of Venetian turpentine). The leaves of such prepared paper can first be cut to the desired form, and holes for nuiliug on the shoo be stamped through, and the leaves glued to gether, one on top of another. Then the shoe has to undergo u very strong pressure, perhaps by a hydraulic press, is dried, and lastly rasped and planed. The holes can be bored in by boring machines similar to those used for brushes, instead of being stamped out. The fastening of these shoes can bo done by nailing through tbe holes bored or stamped, as above described, or by gluing with bitumen, caoutchouc, or a mixture of gum ammonia, eraul siou, ono part; gutta percha, two parts. The fact of its getting rough makes the paper horseshoe a great ad vantage In preventing tho slipping of the horse on smooth and slippery places.—The Ago of Steel. He Tran date 1 the Dream. Here is a parable of rats slipped from a Scotch paper: A laborer at the Dundee Harbor lately told his wife on awakening Id the morning a curi ous dream which he had during tho night, lie dreamed that he saw com ing toward him in single file four rats. The first one was very fat. and was followed by two lean ones, tho rear rat being blind. The dreamer was greatly troubled, as there is a super stition among the ignorant that to dream of rats forebodes calamity. He applied to his wife concerning this, but she could not interpret the ill omened dream. ' His son, a sharp lad, who had heard his father's story, volunteered to be the interpreter. "The fat rat," he said, "is the man who keops the public bouse that ye gaug to sae often; and the two lean ones are me and my mothor, and the blind one is yourself, father." An Exceptional Case Young Noodle: "Didn't you say, professor, that physiology was the science that trouts of the functions of the body?" Professor: "Yes, sir.'' Y. N. : "Then under the head of what ology would a study of tbe mind come?" P. : "I am afraid. Noodle, that in your case It would come under tho bead of myth-ology.*' Bs Fall Oat. A Wisconsin man who went to Kan sas and fell in love with a girl, receiv ed the following note and fell out: "Dear Sir—If you call on Mary again I will put a bullot into you oa sight. Your obediaat servaat, X." I ONLY A WHILE. TEAKL RIVERS. Only a little while to work. And a long, long time to rest: Then drive the cloud from the aching brow, The sigh from the troubled breast. Only a while to watch und pray. And then a long, long time to praise; •bur God, the Father, knowetb best— Then question not His ways. Only a very little while. As short as the going down Of the setting sun, to meekly bear The cross and the thorny crown. Only a little while to sow, And a long, long timo to reap; Let's sow in faith with an open hand. And tares from the good seed keep. Only a little while to lose. And a long, long time to find The jewels death has robbed us of— The friends we will leave behind. Only a while to trim our lamps. Ere tho bridegroom passeth by; Then fill them well with the oil of life, Let the flame rise pure and high. Only a little while—what matters it If our life be short or Ion g! If we only sing a few faint notes Or the whole of the changing song! Only a while our barks must drift To'ard the misty Isle of Tears, Where the pirate, Time, has buried deep Lost hopes from the bygone years. Only a while these barks are borno On the swell of sorrow's waves. By the stranded joys of other days, By a shore of grassy graves. Ouly a while they'll struggle on. 'Mid the darkness and the strife: Then God will drop their anchor deep In the quiet sea of—Life. —New Orleans Picayune. linkTTink. THBILLLING STOBY OF FBANOO-PBUSSIAN WAE. RV MAURICE LEGRAND. TEE n CHAPTER V. THE WRATII OK LOVE. To be wrotli with those wo love Doth work like madness in the brain. —Coleridge. HE sat in the old tiled kitchen, her hands crossed listlessly on her lap, her face pale, hor eyes heavy, Tho table was prepared for the even ing meal, and flowers decorated the snowy cloth and gave color and frag' ranee to the simple homely arrange ments. His eyes took in the whole quiet pretty scene—the clean blue and white tiled floor, the glitter of the brass pots and pans, the dusky walnut-wood presses, the old oak chairs und trest les, nnd above all, tho quiet little figure leaning so listlessly back in her seat, with the spotless headgear and blue kirtle of the picturesque Norman dress. He stayed an instant on the thresh old. As his step paused and his shadow fell she started from her list less attitude. She went to meet him swiftly, her eyes shining welcome, her lips smiling, her faco upraised for tho lips smiling, her faco upraised for tho kiss that never failed to greet her But she met a look that drovo the blood back to her heart with a deadly sickening fear. She cowered back her arms fell to her side, lier slight frame trembled, her bright girlish beauty changed to a shamed and shrinking semblance of the guilt ho sought and the fear he dreaded, lie looked at her in silenco for a moment. ■•Is this tiling true?" The words were few a id stern, but they pierced to her heart with a ter ror she could not conceal. Her head drooped on her breast, she stretched out her hands to him in piteous ap peal. "Pierre, what have you heard? What do you mean?" A sharp caustic laugh left his lips. "You can ask that—your own words condemn you."' I .She looked at him with wide appeal ing eyes; lier lips quivered like the lips of a grieved child. "Indeed, indeed, you wrong me," sho cried. "I have done nothing very faulty; I-" The attemp at extenuation fired his whole soul witli fury. "Answer me," he cried, seizing her in liis urms and gazing down at the pale, frightened, quivering faco, witli eyes whose passion and wrath struck fresh terror to hor heart. "Answer mo—you whom I loved, and deemed fairest, purest, truest among women— whom d > you seek when you steal from my sight at dead of night, liko a thing of guilt and shame? Who is it you love so well tha' you risk reputation, honor, peace, for his sake? Oh, Heaven, that I should have to ask it! Oil, love! Oh, wife! say it is false; look in my face as you looked but a few short hours ago, and I will curso myself that my lips have wronged you by even tho utterance of a doubt." The wild impetuous words pourod out their prayer unchecked, unstuyed; but with ull the agony sho suffered, with all the yearning for his trust— his faith—that thrilled her to her heart's core, she could not yield to his prayer or answer the entreaty. ••Who has told you this?" Tho palo lips, the shrinking form, wore not those of innocence. A tem pest of fury shook him once more. ••Is this all you say?" ho cried in his torture.* "Arc you then what that woman culled you—beautiful, seduc tive, tempting—a traitress to houor and to womanhood?" "I am none of those," sho finshod out scornfully, stung by reproach so great, by calumny so vile. "Nono! Then why not re fute tho charge? Why not swer what I ask? A word—but one word—is all I meed. Have vou stolen out at night ULd sailed down the river to moot some man—sumo lover, as I heard? Yes, or no? Nay, do not shrink; I will have tho truth now if I track your paramour to his hidden lair and force it from him with my knife at his throat" A change passed over her face ted I by ty 'I j out fierce and Oh. no! That Your lover has •It stole all its warmlli and bloom till it looked like the gray ness or death. Ho saw it and his voice r ing out im ploringly: "<>h. my love, I frighten you; forgive me, you know I love you. You know the upraised voice of all tho world would never make me believe ill of you. Why do you torture ine so? A word, ono little word, is all I need; a word you can utter so easily. ••Heaven help me, l cannot." Tho faint imploring cry broke from her white lips involuntarily. She hid her face in hor hands and burst into a passion of wild agonized weeping. He who loved her so,who would have cast the very shadow of grief or s affering from her path could lie have willed it, looked down on hor now with themute despair of a broken heart, with the tearless agony of a shaken faith. You cannot. Are you then guilty?" Of deceiving you—yes. Of might else I am innocent. " His laughter rang wild on the stillness. Of deceiving me! is no sin, no wrong! taught you to reason well." I have no lover," she moaned, is a lie," Whom do you go to meet then, like a thing of infamy, as they have called you?" She was silent, while the glow of the fire-flnmos flickered over her white changod face, and showed him the pathetic misery of hor imploring eyes. You will not say. Well, then. I believe tho worst. Tho woman who withholds a secret from her husband would count it a small thing to dis honor his name, his love, his rights. Your looks, your words, condemn you. You have had my love; you have smiled in my eyes; you have talked of a lifetime spent in the joy that has made this past week a very paradise; and now you have deceived und betrayed me!" "If you think that," sho cried, with the sudden anger and indignation of hor outraged womanhood, "your love is little worth. If you ean listen to the tongues of slander and believo such vileness as you have imputed, you are less worthy of my love than I of yours." The fiery indignant words touched him with remorse. "What secret is it then, you with hold from mo?" he pleaded. "Oh, think, is not my love wide enough to forgive, my trust deep enough to shelter you from all consequences? Is it some youthful folly, some girlish imprudence that has woven this mys tery and secrecy about you? Only tell me, Ninette; you do not know what I suffer!'' The agony of his voice, the passion in his eyes, touched her more deeply than any reproach. She threw her self at his feet, the great salt tears blinding her gaze as itsought his face, and sought in vain for tho lovo and trust of old. "I don't know," she moaned, "for I suffer, too." "Thon tefl me; trust mo." "I cannot." "I cannot." Once more these fatal words: once more that terrible despair which de fied all entreaty, and admitted of but ono interpretation. Ho laid his hand upon her shoulder with the grasp of a desperate man. ••To kill you were a crime; but heaven knows it were a crime justified by tho madness and tho shame that is my portion henceforward." The firo of jealousy scorched his heart as with a hot iron. Tho feroci ty of an undisciplined race, stern of creed and rigid of honor, stirred and woke beneath this bitter provocation. 'I he light of certainty showed him but ono belief, to that he clung, though its agony miuldoncd him. Before that cry of inability, before that silence of shame, bis doubt grew surer, his faith fell as a treo whoso roots tho a - : has severed. "Go to him you shield," he wilyly; "go and laugh together tho poor fool that once loved once, ay, once, but long ago! woman that I loved is dead!" Then ho releaso her. and out another look upon face ho went out from house, ore his strongth should fail him, ere his hands ahould bo stained with the blood of tho fair foul creature lie j had brought to his hearth and homo in tho fondness of a passionate joy, in tho trust of a great love. She lay where ho had left her, in tho glow of tho wavering firelight. Tearless sobs shook hor, a great dread numbed and froze the blood in hor veins. The intense agony of thoso first few moments would huvo made unconsciousness a blessed relief, but it never came. Each sound, oach sight the ticking of tho clock, tho stir of a leaf, or the rustle of a brauch against the open casement—all came to her with clear and painful distinct ness. Tho coolness of tho midsummer air deepened the gray hues of twilight, tiprn at Inst she rose and dragged her weary frame to that accustomed seat by tho fire, and shivered in tho warm, golden glow as if the coldness of win ter reigned around. "He must let me toll," she moaned. My oath cannot outlast such wrong and misery as this. But how to reach him now? Oh heavens, if I should be watched, tracked, discovered!" She sat there motionless, her bruin racked with tho effort at invention of schemes and piuns, each in its turn cast aside as futile. The serving girl came and cleared away the untasted meal, and spoke wonderlngly to her, and asked if she needed aught, but she only shook hor head and answered qothing. To all external sounds and cares she remained blind and deaf. The reaction that follows upon intense excitement was with her, and she lay in the dull, heavy stupor of a misery so intense that It numbed her senses to all senti ent life, and loft her but the memory of suffering. cried over you The with her the up Tho delicious coolncst of tho air as it swept over herachingbrow brought the first senro of relief she hud y,,* felt. A cluster of rose foliage arme,, her as tho wind stirred it; the quiver, ing luminance of tho moon and sdurs lit up the whole quiet grounds: the far-off murmur of tho flowing \ Vl , broke in monotonous music against the motionless wheels of the mill. As her gaze swept over the vast stretch of silent country, sho hoard a step on the path, a shadow fell across the silver lake tvhieh tho moonbeams had made ou the dewy sward. ••Are you looking for your husband. Mistress Leroux?" said a. harsh voice in her ear. "You will never see ifim more—he has enlisted as a soldier, and inarched with the treops yonder', an hour ago!" TO BE CONTINUED. A Touching Incident The following, which appeared in Detroit paper, is ono of the most touching incidents to be met with, if true, it was a very remarkable ease, and if merely imaginative, it is very suggestive: There is a family in this city who are dependent upon a littlo child for tho present sunshine of themselves. A few weeks ago the young wife and mother was stricken down to die. It was so sudden, so dreadful, when the grave family physician eallod them to gether in the parlor, and in his solemn, professional way intimated to them the truth—there was no help. Then came the question among them who would tell her. Not the doctor! It would be cruel to let the man of science go to their dear ono on such an errand. Not the aged mother who was to be left childish and alone. Not the young husband who was walking the floor with clenched hands and re bellious heart. Not—there was only ono other, and at this moment he looked up from tho book he had been playing with, unnoticed by them all, and asked gravely: "Is mamma doin' to die?" Then, without waiting for an an swer, he sped from the room and up stairs as fast as his littlo feet would carry him. Friends and neighbors were watching by tho sick woman. They wonderingly noticed tho pale face of the child as he climbed on the bed and laid his small hand on his mother's pillow. •Mamma." he asked, in sweet, ca ressing tones, "is you 'fraid to die?" The mother looked at him witli swift intelligence. Perhaps she had been thinking of this. •Who—told—you—Charlie?" she asked faintly. •Doctor, an' papa, an" gamma— everybody," ho whispered, "Mam ma, dear, 'ittle mamma, doan' lie 'fraid to die, 'll you?" •No, Charlie," said the young mother, after ono supremo pang of grief; "no mamma won't be afraid!" •Jus' shut your eyes in 'e dark, mamma, tcep hold my hand—an' when you open 'em, mamma, it'll he all light there." When tho family gathered awe stricken at the bedside, Charlie held up his little hand. 'H-u-s-h! My mamma doan' to sleep. Her won't wake up lieio any ore!" And so it proved. Tliero was no heart-rendering farewell, no agony of parting; for when tho young mothor woke sho had passed beyond, and as baby Charlie said: "It was all light there." Mother. Lord Macaulay pays tho following beautiful tribute to his mother;— "Children, look in those eyes; listen to that dear voice; notice tho feeling of just a single touch that is bestowed on you by that hand! Make much of it while yet you have that most pre cious of all God's gifts, a loving moth er. Read the unfathomable love of thoso eyes, tho kind anxiety of that touch and look, however slight your pain. In after life you may have friends, but never will you have again tho inexpressible lovo and gentle way shed upon you that none but a mother bestows. Often do I sigh in the strug gles with tho hard, uncaring world, for tho sweet, deep security I fell when of an evening, nestling in her bosom, I listened to some quiet tale suitable to my ago, read in her untiring voice. Never can i forget her sweet glances cast upon mo when I appeared asleep, never her kiss of peace at night. Years have passed away since we laid hor by my father in the old church yard, yet still her voice whispers from tho gravo and her eyes watch over roe as I visit spots long since liallowod to tho memory of my mother." "For My Sake." These three little words are f* 10 touchstone of love. The application of this touchstone begins with in'*' 1 '" cy and ends only with tho end of life If that baby in Its mother's arms coule speak intelligently it would say : "I is for my sake that a mother s eye watches unsleeping through tho mia night hours, and her arm » hold nw until they are ready to drop off 0 weariness. "For my sake" many successful man acknowledges g ra fully that his parents toilod and econo mized in order to buy books and pay college bills. -'For my sake" provi tho sheltering roof and the arm-c. fia for dear old grandma at the nrosi • Take those words out of our langua^ and you would rob home of Bs sw ness and human life of its nobles pirations. —Exchange.__ The Right Rise. A personal item says that Miss Louise Eve is "a rising P^ te99 ° f ^, e gusta, Ga.,'' but it doesn't name » hour at which she rises- »J*** that she rise, early enough Jj, mother wash the breakfast dishmi an« pare the potatoes for dinn er. the kind of »rising" P 0 ® 1 *?®*.,, country nee<U_Norriitown Herald.