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VOL. 58. WHOLE No- 2235.
E&tßoellaneona. Muller & Yearley, 348 N. GAT STREET, Baltimore,Md. Blankets & Robes Our line this season surpasses all previous ef forts. It comprises all the Nbwest and Bbst Features In HORSE CLOTHING. We have everything In BLANKETS, from a CHEAP BUBLAP to the FINEST ALL WOOL. Chase Lap Robes Are here In Great Variety of Color and Pleasing Patterns. —OUR PRICES — . Just the same pleasing low tone that always prevails at The Harness. Stprg of Baltimore. COCKEYBVILLE Milling & Supply Co. OOCKXYBVILLK, Md., Can Save Tou Money Upon HORSE AND CATTLE FEEDS. CORN, OATS, HAY and POULTRY FEED . . Sold in QUANTITIES TO SUIT and at Very Lowest Possible Prices for a First-Class Article. ...... ear Send your Grain and have It ground'll WHILE YOU WAIT. Chesapeake Sc Potomac Phone—Cockeysville 40. Jy.6tNov.l7 PIANISTS:: Three Reasons why you should have a Copy of “JAMESTOWN.” It’s the talk of everybody, every where. It’s the latest sonar hit of the season. It’s the kind that you can whistle. Mailed on receipt of 26 cents In stamps. PARR~BROS., GOVANSTOWN, Md. Oet.stMayll , i ■... ■ ■:■■■■ ■'■ ■ ■■■ ■ ■ ■ ...i. EEMPEL&ARMIGER -ttTAILORS k -14 N. Charles Street, Next to new B. *O. Building, BALTIMOBB. XK SUITS FROM 320.00 UP. Nov. IT—ly ESTABLISHED 1870. MAIER’S PREPARED PAINTS ABB BTBICTLY PUBE LEAD AND ZINC PAINTS. Guaranteed Equal to the Best. —MANU FACTUBED BY JOHN G. MAIER’S SONS, 103-108 N. GAT STREET, Cor Frederick Street, BALTIMOBB, Md. Both Phoneß. I July®—ly CHILDREN & WAGE EARNERS SAVE TOUR * * * DIMES and NICKELS. THE TOWSON NATIONAL BANK 18 CONDUCTING A REGULAR SAVINGS DEPARTMENT AT ITS BANKING HOUSB. Where small sums are received on deposit and Interest allowed at the rate of 3 per eent. per annum. JW'Pass books containing full Instructions furnished depositors free of cost. W. CLARENCE CRAUMER, Aug. s* —8m l Cashier. For “The Union.” _ OUB HISTORIC GOBS. Lines Suggested by the Presentation of His toric Guns at Fort McHenry to the City of Baltimore. BT EDWIN HIGGINS. • Come, a royal welcome give to our historic guns: Their silence Is more potent than the music of their tongues; For the love of oountry they have borne their wounds and scars; Today, la peace we greet them, beneath the Stripes and Stars! Long live their deeds deep-written In Freedom’s battle story 1 And every deed so written is a chronicle of glory. We greet you, valiant Veterans! You stood on guard through night. And toiled and fought through tempests and triumphed for the right. Ne’er can we forget our sires, who bravely manned the guns: Their lives into our being In a crimson current runs. And though beneath the flowers they slumber in the dust. We cherish their eternal fame and in their God we trust. And now with heads uncovered, we rejoicing ’boutyou stand; Blob tributes we have brought you—the tribute of tbe land; For you, our own dear city, fragrant with death less fame Doth pledge a loving care, and invoke the Holy Name. AH AMATjETJB BOPEB OF BXAXS. When riding through the foot-hills which border the Santa Clara Val | ley, I fell in with an elderly horse man whose weather-beaten saddle and service-glossed riata proclaimed him a knight of the open range. Con versation developed that be bad taken , a "bunch of beef cattle" to Palo ' Alto, and was now returning to his ranch in the mountains. At this point we were interrupted by a pair of bareheaded youths in an automobile, who tooted us out of the road, and grinned broadly when our horses tried to climb the fence. 1 My companion was smiling remi niscently when we resumed our journey. "Those automobiles are a good thing," said he. "Before they came out, that class of people had to turn cowboy for excitement. In the early days 1 rode with one such, and he made me a lot of trouble. "Even before be could ride a gen tle horse he was much more of a cow boy than we who were raised in the saddle. He wore a fringed buckskin suit and tucked his trousers into his boots like the cowboys in pictures. “About tbe time be got so that he could ride an animal that bucked a little, and could make an occasional catch with a lasso, he was turned over to me for a side partner. The boss apologized for it a few days later; said the lad was a nephew of the owner, and asked me to keep him from killing himself and his mounts if I could. "I soon found that Bill, as he in sisted on being called, was all right, except that he was young for his twenty-one years and wanted excite ment. He needed excitement. His system craved it as cattle craved salt —and he got it. It came in such a bunch that he became a nice, quiet, useful cowboy. "Tbe range we were riding was along the base of the pine hills that border the seacoast below Monterey Bay. One day, as we were crossing a stretch of drift sand which ran back perhaps a half-mile from the beach, we came upon a big cinnamon bear prowling about among the piles of kelp thrown up alongshore. I would have given ten dollars for a rifle, be cause he had been pulling down our calves. "Young Bill at once made a grab for his lasso. It was a sixty-foot one, longer by ten feet than any man can use to advantage. “ ‘What you going to do?’ I asked. " ‘Going to lasso him, of course !’ he snapped out, scornfully. ‘Come on I’ " ‘Not much !’ I said. ‘This horse of mine isn’t broke to hold, and he isn’t fit to bold a bear; his back is , tender. ’ "Bill didn’t quite dare to say, ‘You’reafraid !’ but he looked it good and strong as he began shaking out his noose. " ‘You’d better let the bear alone" I said. ‘lt needs three men to handle one of those fellows.’ "But Bill, acting mighty mad and important, plunged his spurs into his mustang’s flanks like the cowboys , you read of, and raced after Mr. Cin namon, who was now legging it for the timber. "I rode after them, though not in much alarm, because Bill wasn’t what you would call an expert with a riata. But with the first cast he noosed him. What was more, he took his turns round the saddle-horn and set his horse back like a sure enough va quero. If he bad been a vaquero, though, he would have dropped the riata and let the bear go; for the noose had taken in a foreleg and was > drawn about the shoulder in such a way that the best man and horse on earth could not have held the brnte orchoken him down. "The cinnamon began to fight the rope the moment the horse settled back, rolling over and over, and claw • ing and snapping like a bear gone mad. Then Bill allowed bis mount to turn so that he caught the strain sidewise. "In this event one of two things must happen —either the horse is . pulled over or the saddle turns. It was the saddle this time. It was a lucky thing for the owner’s nephew I that the rope came free from the sad- I dle-horn. If it hadn’t, nothing in the world would have prevented him from being cut in two or kicked to death, or both. "It was bad enough, anyway, for Bill got mixed up with the extra ten feet of riata ; and the bear —well, the bear took a new start for the timber. "Bill yelled for help then in away that I’ll never forget. I knew that a drag through the sand wouldn’t dam age him any worth mentioning, but just hearing him yell made my hair lift my hat off. At least my hat flew r off just about that time. "Bill and tbe bear made tbe sand scatter far and wide. The bear had 1 settled down to business, and was heading straight for the forest. I knew that Bill, if the bear continued TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 9. 1907. going at that rate, would be cut in two the moment he struck timber. “ ‘Cut the rope !’ I yelled. ‘Cut the rope, or you’re a goner!’ "I saw the lad’s band reach for his belt and come away empty. His dirk had slipped its sheath when he fell from the saddle. But he dug into his pocket and brought out a clasp-knife. I had opened a can of tomatoes with it the night before, and knew how sharp it was. Also I knew how hard it is to cut a rawhide rope. "There was still a quarter of a mile between ns and tbe brush ; but that quarter of a mile wasn’t going to last long, for the bear was getting used to his haruess, and was running better every minute. "Then I brought out a trick I had learned of the Mexicans. The ‘han dle’ end of the riata, if you call it that, tapered into a six-inch buckskin popper. I could throw my rope full length and rap an animal’s nose with that popper nine times out of ten. And when it rapped, the hair flew and the animal turned back, if there was any turn back to him. "I tried this on the bear, and it worked like a charm. Riding abreast of him, I rapped him as fast as I could coil my riata and throw it; and each time he edged off a good bit from his bee-line for timber. "Soon I had him running parallel to the beach. There were rocks and driftwood ahead, so I headed him still farther round, till he was run ning toward the ocean. “ ‘Bill,’ I yelled, ‘can’t you cut the rope?’ “He was hacking away at the raw hide like a good fellow, but bis eyes were full of saud and his progress was fitful and jerky. The combination worked against him and his aim was pretty bad. Then again, as I told you before, his knife lacked a lot of being a razor. Anyway, I could see that Bill’s buckskins would be fric tioued to a wafer before he could saw that rope in two. "I began to wonder what would happen when we reached the ocean. At that moment the same idea came to the bear, and he doubled like a jack-rabbit, all but running over Bill as he cut back for the forest. "And this time he was surely head ing for cover. Nothing that I could do could swerve him an inch. I rode alongside as before and rapped his nose as viciously as I knew bow; but he only rooted his head down and dug out for the brush harder than before. "A mouthful of sand had long since hushed Bill’s cries for help, but now I began to get scared for him on account of what might happen. If I had had a steady horse things wouldn’t have looked so bad ; but the one I was riding, as I told Bill to begin with, hadn’t been broke to hold, and besides, being young, was tender un der tbe saddle. It was ten to one he would buck if hitched to that run ning brute. In fact, he had bucked the day before, when hitched to a yearl ing calf. "But close on ahead was a line of low bills, piles of sand, really, that the wind had drifted against the tim ber. From the sight of them I got an idea that gave me strong hopes for the owner’s nephew. ‘“Bill!’ I shouted. ‘Bill! Can you hear me ?’ "He spat out a lot of saud, and finally said he could. " ‘l’m going to rope him when we get to those sand-slides. This horse won’t hold for a cent, but I can give you a short minute to clear yourself of that rope.’ "While I shouted I was coiling my lariat for a cast. I was ready, with no time to spare, when the bear struck the sand-hills, luckily at the bottom of a good loose slide. I rode abreast of him till we were half-way to the top, then snapped my riata over his head. "My horse didn’t buck, as I had expected; he couldn’t to advantage, being nearly winded and up to his knees in sand. But he wouldn’t stand for tbe strain at all, and in his flinching and shirking, turned side on in spite of me, and was pulled over. I stayed with him and kept the turns round the horn of the saddle. "A glance as I went down showed me Bill doing his best to clear him self, but if he was succeeding at all, be was mighty slow about it. It looked as if the bear would roll down on him at any moment, and I did some swift thinking for a couple of seconds. Then I knotted my riata fast to the saddle-horn, and as my horse floundered to his knees, flung myself clear of him. That left the bear anchored, but far from stationary. "I bad a knife in my pocket that I could shave with, and jerking it out, I made for Bill’s lariat, and cut it with oue slash. " ‘Now you get!’ said I. "And he scooted, for the bear was fighting tbe rope like a demon, and rolling straight for us. I left byway of the horse, now floundering and sliding down the hill parallel to the bear, and in passing, cut my riata. Then we scattered, Bill one way, I the other, my horse for the home ranch, and the bear for the brush. "I promised Bill not to tell the other boys; and he was a good, mod est side partner ever after.”— Youth's Companion. In Toledo, Ohio, recently, an Irishman was hard at work painting the top of a telephone pole a bright green, when suddenly the pot of paint slipped and splashed on the sidewalk. Not more than a few seconds later another Irishman, also an employe of the telephone company, came along. He looked at the paint, then at his countryman on the ladder coming down the pole. Then, with affected anxiety, he called. "Mulcahy, Mulcahy! Hov ye had a himorrhage?” A Chinese proverb: A druggist who buys and sells drugs should have two eyes, a physician who gives drugs to patients should have one eye, and a patient who takes drugs, should be blind. , "GWINK BACK HOXB.” As we waited in tbe L. and N. de pot at Nashville for the train, some one began crying, and an excitement ‘ was raised among the passengers. A | brief investigation proved that it was ! an old colored man who was giving ’ way to his grief. Three or four people \ remarked on tbe strangeness of it, but for some time no one said any | thing to him. Then a depot police man came forward and took him by the arm, and shook him roughly and ; said : "See here, old man, you want to quit that! You are drunk, and if * you make any more disturbance I’ll lock you up." " ’Deed, but I hain’t drunk," re plied the old man, as he removed his tear-stained handkerchief. “I’zelost my ticket an’ money* an’ dat’s what’s de matter." "Bosh 1 You never had any money to lose ! You dry up or away you go!’’ "What’s the matter yere ?” queried a man, as he came forward. The old man recognized the dialect of the Southerner in an instant, and, repressing his emotions with a great effort, he answered: " Say, Mars Jack, I’ze been robbed." "My name is White." "Well, den, Mars White, some body has done robbed me of ticket an’ money." "Where are you going ?’’ "Gwine down intoKaintuck, whar I was bo’n an’ raised." "Where’s that ?’’ “Nigh to Bowling Green, sah, an’ when de wah dun sot me free I cum up dis way. Hain’t bin home since, sah.” "And you had a ticket?” "Yes, sah, an’ ober twenty dollahs in cash. Bin savin’ up fer ten y’ars, sah." "What do you want to go back for !” “To see de hills an’ de fields, de tobacco an’ de co’n, Mars Preston an’ de good old missus. Why, Mars White, I’ze dun bin prayin’ fur it fo’ twenty y’ars. Sometimes de longin’ has cum till I couldn’t hardly hold myself." "It’s too bad.’’ "De ole woman’s buried down dar, Mars White —de ole woman an’ free chillen. I kin ’member de spot same as if I seed it yisterday. You go out half way to de fust tobacker house, an’ den you turn to de left an’ go down to de branch wbar de wimmin used to wash. Dar’s fo’ trees on de odder bank, an’ right under ’em is whar dey is all buried. I kin see it! I kin lead you right to de spot!’’ "And what will you do when you get there?" asked the stranger. "Go up to de big house an’ ax Mars Preston to let me lib all de rest ob my days right dar. I’ze ole an’ all alone, an’ I want to be nigh my dead. Sorter company fur me when my heart aches." "Where were you robbed?" "Out doahs dar, I reckon, in de crowd. See? De pocket is all cut out. I’ve dreamed an’ pondered— I’ze had dis journey in my mind fur y’ars, an’ now I’ze dun bin robbed an’ can’t go.’’ He fell to crying, and the police man came forward in an officious manner. "Stand back, sir !’’ commanded the stranger. "Now, gentlemen, you have heard the-story. I’m going to help the old man back to die on the old plantation and be buried alongside his dead." "So am I!’’ called twenty men in a chorus, and within five minutes we had raised enough to buy him a ticket and leave fifty dollars to spare. And when he realized bis good luck, the old snow-haired black fell upon his knees in that crowd and prayed : "Lord, I’ze been a believer in you all my days, an’ now I dun axes you to watch ober dese yere white folks dat has believed in me an’ helped me to go back to de old home. ’ ’ And I do believe that nine-tenths of that crowd had tears in their eyes as the gateman called out the train for Louisville. — Tom O'Moore. BUBNIHG UP WBESB. How to rid its right of way of weeds so tall, rank and troublesome as to interfere with the operation of trains has been solved on the Union Pacific Railroad by the invention of a machine that does the work of 300 men a day. The new gasoline weed burner turned out by the Omaha shops of the Harriman road covers twenty-five miles in twelve hours, while hereto fore it has required a gang of sixteen men, working a full day, to cut the weeds from a single mile of track. The weed burner is built entirely of steel, with regulation trucks. At one end is a gasoline engine, used for propelling the car and pumping the air which forces gasoline to the burn ers, spreading out near the grouud. When at work the weed burner runs three or four miles an hour, but can make a speed of from twelve to fifteen miles, and is handled on the road un der regular train orders. Tanks carried on the car platform contain enough gasoline for a day’s run. Through rows of burners spread ing well beyond the rails, tbe flaming gasoline is forced downward into the weeds, killing root and branch, while the old process did not stop future growth. It is not uncommon on Western branch lines, sidings and commercial tracks to see weeds from three to seven feet high, which form a great obstruction to train movement, cause slippery rails and make operation diffi cult. The Union Pacific weed burner is therefore a solution of a serious railroad problem. General Manager Mohler conceived the idea, which has been developed by W. R. McKeen, superintendent of motive power of the Union Pacific. — Boston Globe. You couldn’t broaden out some men by running over them with a steam roller. LAR6EBT FEDERAL PRISON IN THE U. 8. BT MRS. C. R. MILLER. At the Federal prison at Leaven worth, Kan., 965 prisoners are en gaged in building around and over thenj the very prison in which they will be confined. This institution, when completed, will be the largest and best equipped Federal prison in the country. It was begun in 1898, and fill probably not be finished for several years. It has a frontage of , 800 ftet, with a depth of 900 feet in the itar. The wall which surrounds the hpildings and incloses sixteen and one-half acres will be thirty-one feet in height. The entire reservation in cludes 740 acres, 160 under cultiva tion, fend an equal amount in pastur age, (be rest being still covered with timber. The prisoners are white, col ored] Indian and Japanese. Twenty four are military prisoners, while the othfefe are offenders against the civil law. The majority of the Indians came from Indian Territory, and their crimes are the result of too much bad whisky. 'The Mexicans are being punished foi smuggling—one of them, a shoemaker, having sent in severel hundred dollars’ worth of Mexican opals hidden in the linings of shoes. The two Japarese were caught seal poaching off St. George's Island last year. One huadred and three are serving life sentences. One hundred and thirty-four are “trusties,” en titled to wear tht blue uniform aud white numbers andallowed more free dom in their moveaents in the prison. Gray is the regulatbn uniform of the Federal prisoner, and stripes are worn only by refractory men as a punish ment for habitual disobedience to the rules. No women are snt to Leaven worth. The prison is like a model town, and in time the officers expect to make it self-supporting. Uncle Sam is economical, and as far as possible the prisoners are made to earn their food and clothing. In many of the State prisons the inmates are allowed to work overtime, for which they are paid, the money being held for them until the time of their release. A Federal prisoner receives no pay for his work at any time, those in author ity thinking that the plan works un fairly, as some of the prisoners would be in a position to make more money than the others, and the Federal Gov ernment’s aim is to treat all men alike. When a man is released he is given transportation to the town from which he came, #5 in money, a new suit of clothes, hat and shoes. If he is re leased in winter an overcoat is added. The Indians are usually model pris oners and are excellent workmen. They have little to say, and in almost every instance are obedient. The In dian has a sensitive nature, and as a result of it—or, rather, the inability to practice self-restraint under strong pro&fcatlon—some Carlisle graduates have landed in this prison. At the close of their school days they returned to their tribes, and were shown little consideration by the older men. Edu cation had equipped them for a new and more useful life and then failed to provide a proper place for its develop ment. The grief and mortification resulting from this condition soon led to drink, and crime was the result. A number of these Indians are en gaged in dressing the stone which is to ornament the front of the building. They are known by such names as Wash Beaver, Crazy Snake, Pano waski Tiger, Handy Bear, Amos Rab bit, Tiger Tom, John Runabout, Brown-Takesthe-Gun, Fred Charg ing Eagle, John Hogkiller and Willie Little Head. Many of them receive letters from home, and one man has a regular correspondence with his sweetheart, who rejoices in the name of Lucy Standing Goose. The two Japanese, who speak little English, are engaged in the tailor shop. As far as possible everything needed in the prison is the handiwork of the inmates, and the shops in which these articles are manufactur ed are interesting in many respects. ' The men are usually proud of their work, and frequently ask the foreman whether he thinks them capable of earning an honest living on the out side. In several instances released prisoners have obtained work on rec ommendations of the warden, and it is not uncommon for discharged pris oners to ask for letters as to their abil ity as workmen. In one of the shops I was shown some remarkably well-made shoes. This place is busy, as the keeping of nearly a thousand men in footwear is no small item. In the next aisle a number of prisoners were making harness for horses which were doing the hauling. The tailor shop, which is equipped with electric irons for pressing and electric sewing machines, turns out all the clothing used by the prisoners, as well as the neat uniforms worn by the officers. Old clothing and carpets are cut up and woven into rugs to be used in different parts of the building. All the brooms and scrubbing brushes, mops, etc., need ed are the work of a few prisoners, and in this department a slender young man wearing a “trusty” uni form silently handed out one brush after another for my inspection, and as I had a word of praise for each ar ticle of his workmanship a faint smile lighted up the pale face, and a timid bow of thanks was his only response. In the tin shop the men were turning out buckets, while in the carpenter shop they were repairing furniture. Outside the building others were grading, mixing cement, and making bricks for the new building. Colored prisoners were hauling stone from the cars, as the building material is ship ped from Arkansas. Guards were on everv hand but there was no rushing and no harsh words. The men work ed steadily, and many of them were laughing as they worked. When I asked if plans for escape might not be hatched by their intimacy with each other, the guard said that if two men were found especially friendly they were separated, or if two men showed antipathy for each other they were kept apart. The laundry was like one attached to a big hotel, and here William Jan uary, whose case recently attracted so much attention aud who was released on July 17, was at work. The kitch en has a floor space of 7000 square feet, and is equipped with an electric bread mixer and electric ovens. Among the men who help in this kitchen are thirty-two life prisoners. 1 George C. Buchanan is the steward, and his office between the pantry, bakery and kitchen proper is enclosed in glass. By this arrangement he may look into any of the departments at any time without leaving his desk. The menu, while not elaborate, is composed of substantial food, well cooked, and served in far better style than the meals in a cheap boarding house. The breakfast on the day of my visit consisted of oatmeal, butter, bread and coffee. At dinner roast pork, gravy, potatoes, rolls and water were served, while a supper of buns and coffee completed the day’s meals. On thai day 800 pounds of pork, 150 pounds of rolled oats, and 100 pounds of sugar were consumed. The average cost per man for that days’ food was a trifle over twelve cents. The average day’s ration cost eleven cents per man. Many of the vegeta bles used are grown in the prison gar den, and last year eighty tons of cab bage were raised. Some of this crop was made into sauerkrout, and seven ty-five barrels were used at the pris oners’ table. About 375 bushels of peaches were gathered from the or chard and “put up” in the prison cannery, and the same amount of to matoes was canned *for table use. Food supplies, such as coffee, tea, su gar, flour, meats, etc., are purchased quarterly. This is done by samples, the name of the firm being unknown at the time the selection is made. A complete cold storage and ice plant is maintained in connection with the kitchen. Condensing pipes carry the vapor away, and the usual smells found in the culinary departments of large institutions are entirely absent. The floors are scrubbed daily, and the dirty water swept into an outlet which runs into the sewer. Church and Sunday-school services are held on each Sunday morning, and the afternoon is generally spent in reading. There is a library of 8,000 volumes, and ten per cent, of the prisoners are reading scientific and technical l>ooks, thus showing that they are preparing themselves for some useful and lucrative employment after their release. Books on electricity seem to be the most popular. A print ing office is maintained, and here all the prison printing, including the re ports upon the workings of the in stitution, is done. Some of the prisoners are good mu sicians, and an orchestra has been or ganized, which frequently plays on Sunday in the little gallery during the dinner hour. Baseball and racing are recreations in which well-behaved prisoners may indulge occasionally. The mere fact in being able to take part in games is an incentive for some of the prisoners to obey the rules. Several of the men are expert in wood-carving, and the large wooden eagle—the emblem of the Department of Justice, which is on exhibition at the Jamestown Exposition—was carv ed by a prisoner at Leavenworth. Another is an artist, and has decora ted the safes throughout the buildings with beautiful marine views, and also lettered the doors of the different de partments in gold. In 1901 there was a mutiny and a number of prisoners escaped after kill ing one guard and injuring several others. Nearly all of them were re captured and to avoid a repetition of this a fort-like watch tower has been built, from which guns may be used in any direction without the men be hind them being in danger. The gates are all carefully guarded, and every wagon passing through them either empty or loaded, is thoroughly examined by the guards to see that no person is concealed therein. The warden is Major R. W. Mc- Claughry, an officer who served with distinction during the Civil War. Shortly after its close he became in terested in prison work, and since that time has served in the capacity of warden at several prisons. He was also Chief of Police of Chicago for over two years. His wardenship at Leavenworth has already extended over a period of eight years. He has traveled extensively through Europe, studying prison conditions, and in 1895 went to England by special in vitation to inspect English prisons. Although a strict diciplinarian, Major McClaugbry has a kind and sympa thetic nature, and is always ready to help a prisoner on the right road. He insists on punctuality, and is him self a hard worker. It was my pleas ure to take luncheon at his delightful home on the prison grounds, and the bright-faced young man who waited on us at the table was a “trusty” from the prison. Later in the day another “trusty” hitched up the team and took the warden’s family for a drive around the country. — Leslie's Weekly. THE CARDINAL’S WIFE. Cardinal Gibbons, the venerable head of the Catholic Church in America, is one of the most democratic men in the country. He also enjoys a good joke, even when told at his own ex pense. He once related how a Bal timore newspaper man who may have been more zealous in journalism than learned in religion called at the car dinal’s house one day to ask his em inence for information concerning some church matter. “The cardinal is out of the city,” said Father Fletcher, who received the caller. “Then may I see Mrs. Gibbons?” was the startling request that follow ed. — Lippincott's. The cost of experience is generally money well invested. ESTABLISHED 1860. STOREHOUSE FOR ACORNS. “Many mammals, chiefly rodents, store quantities of food against a sea son of scarcity, but it is worthy of note that very few birds have ac quired the habit,” says a writer in the Scientific American. “In Cali fornia, however, where there are long, dry summers in the valleys, a shining example of thrift has been developed among the woodpeckers. This bird is a handsome California woodpecker (melanerpes formivorus Bairdi), closely related to the red headed woodpecker of the eastern and middle states. It is one of the most industrious creatures in California, and to the casual observer its princi pal occupation might seem to be the hoarding of acorns. Our woodpecker does not go about its work in the off hand, slipshod manner of the Cali fornia jay, which pounds its acorns into the ground, with a guilty air, and then apparently forgets all about them. Instead melanerpes drills a neat round hole in the bark of a tree and into this wedges the acorn, which fits so tightly that one has to use a penknife to extract it. “The birds are most active during the autumn and winter, when they store many acorns for food. Whether the birds particularly desire a grub which lives in the acorn is not known, but we do know that they eat the nuts. The habit of fitting them so tightly into holes in bark may have been acquired for protection against the depredations of ground squirrels. Although scattered acorns are found in telegraph poles, in fence-posts, in the sides of houses or wedged under shingles, the woodpeckers seem to prefer live oaks in the valleys. In the mountains conifers are used also. Leaky roofs often result, from the wedging of acorns under shingles or from holes drilled into them, and many a rancher has been provoked to profanity by having his house per forated. “A characteristic of the woodpeck ers is their fondness for certain indi vidual trees. They store their acorns in the same tree and use the same holes year after year, adding new holes as time goes by and the old ones wear out. A few of these trees must have a reputation among wood peckers for miles around, judging by the way they are visited and the number of acorns deposited in their bark. Such a tree —a large oak, now somewhat famous, at least local ly—stands in front of President David Starr Jordan’s residence at Stanford University, California. Its bark is closely studded with acorns even out onto the smaller limbs.” HAILSTONES. The formation of hail through elec trical action, according to the theory of scientists attached to the weather bureau $t Washington, is an interest ing and even wonderful process. The wind draws out a cloud into a long narrow strip. In that form, owing to the great amount of sur face exposed to the air, the cloud evaporates rapidly, and the rapid evaporation produces intense cold. Dry particles of snow are then formed, aud these, by friction with the water drops, quickly become charged with negative electricity. But the water drops themselves carry positive elec tricity, and, since negative attracts positive, a film of water is formed upon each snow particle and is in stantly frozen into a layer of ice. At this thickness its outer surface remains moist, the water not freez ing there so rapidly, whereupon the electrical charge changes from nega tive to positive, and the particle is re pelled by the water drops and driven to the outer parts of the cloud. Here the increased cold covers it with snow again, and friction charges it anew with negative electricity. Repulsion is now once more changed for attrac tion, and the particles rush back into the cloud, receiving upon their sur faces another film of water, which is turned into second ice layers. Thus the growing hailstone darts zigzag through the clouds, pilling up its alternate layers of snow and ice until gravitation gains control and sends it, with a jingling crowd of its fellows, spinning to the ground. — Minneapolis Journal. THE HUMBLE CLOTHESPIN. In the baking powder tin, which is nailed to a post at the back porch near our stationary wire clothesline, I keep half a dozen clothespins—always at hand for the daily drying of the tea towels. When rapidly boiling water is re quired for tea and coffee making, etc., I use an inverted clothspin to hold the ball of the teakettle at the angle, which will prevent its becoming too hot to handle. I gather up and save the split clothespins dropped by a careless laundress, and when planting my kitchen garden, the pins at each end of a cord mark the rows. I push them down to the head, and with the slower germinating seeds they are left in the ground as a guide until the plants appear. At every window in each sleeping apartment I have one of these single pronged clothespins, gilded or stained. After the wood has been beveled where the prong was broken off, and the tip of the remaining prong sharpened, a half-yard of baby-ribbon or cord is fastened to the head with a carpet tack ; the other end of the ribbon is tacked to the window casing, where it hangs out of the way when not in use, but when the wind rises at night and the sash rattles, the nervous members of the family know just where to put their hands on a wedge to drop between the upper and lower sash as a silen cer.— N. R. D., in Ladies' World. “What do you most enjoy about automobiling ?” “The sense of relief,” answered Mr. Cumrox, “when I get to the end of a trip and find that nobody has been hurt.” THE GENERATION IS PASSING. We are in the seventh year of the new century ; and we must soon be gin to realize that the “much vaunt ed nineteenth century” is slipping away into history. A time there was when it were not difficult, among the ranks of living men, to find those who discussed the great events of the last century “as of yesterday.” We our selves (born in the last half of that great century,) recall old men who dropped into narrative with this pre liminary : “I remember when the news came of the battle of Waterloo,” or “the same year that Lord Castle reagh cut his throat.” We have met men who knew Tom Moore; men who saw the Pope that preceded Pius IX ; pensioners of the war of 1812, and men who participa ted in the rousing Presidential cam paign of 1840. Now there are few living who were in touch with these episodes of the last century. The man of sixty-five ~ can barely recall the events of the early ‘so’s ; the man of seventy can go no further back than the ‘4o’s; and the really old man, who has reached four score years,—who was born in 1825 —may have seen the Duke of Wellington or heard O’Connell or lived through the “night of the big wind,” but even then the century was well along towards its middle age. And as the years go by, those who remember our great civil war as par ticipants therein, will become fewer and fewer, so that when we meet a soldier of the battle of Gettysburg, we and our children will eagerly listen to a voice as from another age. The youngest soldier of the war of 1860-5 will ten years hence, be over seventy years of age. We shall always have old men. But the men relatively are passing and past. We shall be the world’s old men ourselves in a few years.— The New Century. THE RAKING OF THE GREEN. Many years ago there was observed a unique custom in the little town of Guilford, Connecticut. On one day in the fall of the year the women of the town assembled on the village green. Each carried a wooden rake, decorated with her favorite color, and each was dressed in white, decked out with colored ribbons. It was a day of fete, and it was called “The Raking of the Green.” Then with song and laughter and with many a jest this band of women cleaned the village green of all the leaves and refuse and dirt of a year’s accumulation. When the job was done, they adjourned to the Town Hall, where they were joined by their husbands and brothers and the village fathers. A public banquet celebrated the occasion. While this was not the first charter ed Village Improvement Association in the country, it was probably at that time the most enthusiastic, and had perhaps the largest attendance. New Haven, Connecticut, can rightly claim the first effort in village improvement, while Stockbridge, Massachusetts, should be remembered as offering the second. More than a hundred years ago James Hillhouse, of New Haven, or ganized what he called the “Public Green Association.” He raised $1,500 for grading the green and for planting elms. One man is said to have donated five gallons of rum for this purpose. James Hillhouse was also United States Senator for twenty years. Almost every one had forgot ten what he did at Washington, but no one is likely to forget his services in making the city of New Haven classic by the beauty of natures Goth ic architecture. The whole country owes him a debt of gratitude that can only be paid by planting elms in his memory.— H. D. Ward, in Woman’s Home Companion. THE BREAKFAST PROBLEM. Every one, no doubt, has planned for himself a breakfast which he takes , morning after morning without any essential variation. One follows the European plan for the first meal of the day and takes only coffee and rolls. Another adds to this fruit, an other eggs, meat, cereals, etc. If an acid fruit is eaten the sugar should be omitted from the cereal, as its ac tion on the fruit juice may produce fermentation and increase the burden of the digestive powers. A good breakfast is the best capital upon which people who have real work to do in the world can begin the day. If the food is well selected and well cooked it furnishes both cheer and strength for the daily task. Good food is not rich food, but such as provides the requisite nutriment with the least fatigue to the digestive organs. It is reasonable to suppose that the man or woman of sedentary occupation does not require as much breakfast as the laborer. The former person rises but a short time before the morn ing meal, after which he very proba bly takes a car to his work and is in an office all day breathing foul air. Surely a light breakfast would per mit of better working of bis brain and his health would be improved. The theory of no breakfast is not one to be advocated, as the building up of the tissues goes on while we sleep and the food is used to that end, con sequently a new supply is needed to start in the day. From the variety of fruits, cereals, hot breads and ways of preparing eggs it appears a simple matter to have a change in the break fast, and that in itself is a stimulus for the non-hungry class. “Let me kiss those tears away 1” he begged tenderly, according to the Hiawatha Democrat. She stood for it and he was busy for the next fifteen minutes, and yet the tears flowed on. “Can nothing stop them?” he asked, breathlessly. “Nope,” she murmur ed, “its hay fever, you know. But go one with the treatment.” A girl doesn’t need a fountain pen to write a gushing letter.