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TOL. 58. WHOLE No. 2242. „ Uttiscellaueouß. Muller & Yearley, 343 H. GAT STREET, ■'Baltimore, Md. Our line this season surpasses all previous ef forts. It comprises all the Newest and Best Features in HORSE CLOTHING. We have everything In BLANKETS, from a CHEAP BURLAP to the FINEST ALL WOOL. Chase Lap Robes Are here in Great Variety of Color and Pleasing Patterns. —OUR PRICES — C Just the same pleasing low tone that always “ prevails at The Harness Store of Baltimore. Bept.2ltMay2s ESTABLISHED 1870. C MAIER’S PREPARED PAINTS ARE STRICTLY PURE LEAD AND ZINC PAINTS. Guaranteed Equal to the Best. -MANUFACTURED BY JOHN G. MAIER’S SONS, 153-155 N. GAY STREET, Cor Frederick Street, BALTIMORE, Md. Both Phones. I July 6—ly EDWARD E. BURNS. FRANK BURNS. JOHN BURNS’ SONS, Funeral o Directors, TOWSON, Md, C. A P. Phone-TOWSON, 77-F. Feb. 23—ly Dr. A. 0. McCURDY & CO., TOWSON, Md. Orders received for— ALL KINDS_OF SLATE. t Peach Bottom Roofing Slate, Slabs for Walks, Chimney Tops, XdT Burial Cases, XM. * Cemetery Slabs. * Imposing Stones, Ac., Ac. 49-Call on or address as above. C. ft P. Phone—Towson 23 R. [June 29—ly STEVENSON’S COAL YARDS RIDER, N. C. R. R. COAL of ALL KINDS For sale at Lowest Market Rates. 49-Orders filled promptly. A share of patron age solicited. Address. ALLEN STEVEBON, Rider P. 0., Baltimore county. Md. Nov. 18-ly ESTABLISHED 1876. BOTH PHONES. DANIEL~ RIDER, 1001 OREENHOUNT AVENUE, BALTIMORE, Ho., , COMMISSION * MERCHANT lot the Sale of Hay, Grain and Btraw. Orders for Mill Feed, Gluten Feed, Cotton Beed Meal, Oil Cake Meat, Salt, &c., will receive prompt attention. [Mch. 30—ly jgtocfe. iWfiTili Oakleigh Station, Md. & Pa. R. R., 8# Minas from Towson. Constantly on hand A LARGE STOCK OF MULES, TO SUIT ALL PURPOSES. Cmcli, Driving, : nOTIOnn Saddle and :: : ■ K\H \ General Purpose iIUIIUUU FOR SALE OR EXCHANGE. 0. ft P. TELEPHONE. DUANE H.~RIOE, Prop’r, TOWSON, Md. Oct.l9—ly GROVE FARM FALLS ROAD, North of Brooklandville, Md PRIZE WINNING— Guernsey Cattle, Berkshire Hogs, Shropshire Sheep, Colored Muscovy Ducks, FOR BALE BULL CALF, out of Imp. Lady Simon by Milford Lassie 2d Anchor, Dropped April 20th, 1907. Also, 3 GRADE GUERNSEY SPRINGERS, in calf to Milford Lassie 2d Anchor, THE BULL THAT WINS. Apply to JAS. McK. MERRYMAN, R. F. D. Lutherville, Md. O. 4 P. Telephone—Towson 42. Oct. 19—y IN GLAD CONTENT. - BY FRANK Jj. STANTON. The world, they say, is gettin’ old An’ weary as can be; But write me down as Myln’ It’s good enough for me! It’s good enough, with all its grief, It’s pleasure, an’ lta pain: An’ there's a ray of sunshine For every drop o* rain! They stumble in the lonesome dark, They cry for light to see; But write me down as say In’ It's light enough for me 1 It’s light enough to lead us on From where we faint an' fall, An’ the hilltop nearest heaven Wears the brightest crown o’ all! They talk about the fadin’ hopes That mock the years to be ; But write me down as sayln' There’s hope enough for me 1 Over the old world’s wailin’ The sweeter music swells; In the siormiest night I listen An’ hear the bells—the bells. This world o’ God's Is brighter than We ever dream or know ; Its burden’s growing lighter—an’ It’s love that makes ’em so 1 An’ I’m thankful that I’m livin’ Where Love’s blessedness I see, ’Neath a heaven that's forslvlo’ the bail# ritn," Homo” to me ! —Men and Women. SABAH’S YOUNG MAN. Sarah Blake was neither very young nor very beautiful, but her father own ed the best and biggest farm in Hor ley, and being an only child, she was accounted an eligible match in thrifty circles. Dick Sanders and Ted Brant were rival suitors for her hand. She had but to say the word which of them she’d have ; but it was just that which made her hesitate —there was so little choice between them. Such delays are always dangerous. While Sarah wavered, uncertain which to hold and which to let go, her captives, both at once, slipped the leash. They might have pleaded that they had done no worse than others. For when Jenny Allen’s father came with his handsome daughter to dwell in Horley, there was a general flocking of the swains about the shrine of the new idol, and Ted and Dick only fol lowed the rest. But Sarah Blake was not a woman to view a lover’s defection lightly. Nor did it weaken her resentment to divide it between the two. She had quite sufficient for both ; and it being uncertain which of them she would have chosen, in meting out her anger she gave each the disadvantage of the doubt. Jenny Allen was civil and polite to all without showing any particular preference to any. Dick Sanders and Ted Brant were foremost among her admirers. Indeed, the others stood a good deal in awe of them and hung back, for they were a pair of rather churlish, brawny chaps, little inclined to brook competition, and whose ill will few cared to court. Between themselves the question of which should yield was fast reaching a point where its settlement by ‘ ‘ wager of bat tie” seemed inevitable, when things took a turn which put a new face ort affairs. Will Harvey came from the city to spend his vacation at his aunt’s in Horley. One day while sauntering, rod in hand, along the charming lit tle river that wound through the val ley, Will-unexpectedly came on some thing that drove all thought of fish ing completely out of his bead. On a mossy bank, shaded by over hanging boughs, sat a young girl deep in the pages of a book. Her profile, which was towards him, pre sented an almost perfect contour. The shower of glossy ringlets which fell upon her beautiful neck and shoulders stole a new tinge from every shifting glimmer of light sifted through the undulating leaves. Her cheeks would pale and flush and her eyes flash and melt by turns with the varied emo tions called up by what she read. Will would have gladly remained a silent spectator of a sight so lovely, but he felt that he had no right to do so. Advancing in a manner to attract the girl’s attention, he raised his hat and asked some commonplace ques tions about certain localities in the neighborhood. These answered in a voice so musical that it made his heart flutter, he found more things to ask about, till by degrees a conversation sprung up which lasted till the young lady, suddenly remembering how long it had continued, with a blush caught up her gypsy hat, bade him a pleas ant good-day and tripped lightly away. Thus began the acquaintance of Will Harvey and Jenny Allen. But it did not end there. For if Will Harvey’s first stolen glimpse of Jenny settled her title, in his eyes, to be called the loveliest creature in the world, it is quite as certain that her first impressions of the handsome stranger were hardly less exalted. A formal introduction soon follow ed, and in a short time Will and Jenny were so constantly together that the rural gossips began to talk of their engagement as a thing quite settled. This was wormwood to Dick San ders and Ted Brant. They began to look askance at Will Harvey, and were only restrained from picking an open quarrel with him by reflecting that he was a trim built, wiry fellow, who mightn’t be so easy to handle, to say nothing of the pluckjj look there was in his keen, dark eyes. One day as Dick was strolling down the lane, sulking as usual over his bad fortune, he met Sarah Blake. He felt confused and awkward. He knew Sarah had a valorous tongue, and he had no ground to expect any mercy. To his surprise, however, she met his clumsy greeting gra ciously, and for the time seemed dis posed to forget past grievances. “I’ve news,” she said, ‘‘news you’d give a good deal to know.” ‘‘What is it, Sally?” he asked coaxingly. ‘‘Oh, never mind.” ‘‘Come, Sally, for old acquaintance sake.” Was it a smile or a scowl she gave him then ? Dick wasn’t sure and was beginning to tremble again when Sarah resumed her gracious mien : “Well, seeing it’s you,” she said, “I don’t mind telling. Jenny Allen is going to elope with Will Harvey tonight. He’s to be at her father’s TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28. 1907. back garden at twelve o’clock, his face covered with a black mask. When he gives a low whistle, thrice repeated, she’s to come out and then they’ll flit together. Here are all the details in a note in her own hand, which I picked up after seeing it drop from Will Harvey’s pocket as he can tered down the road half an hour since. Read for yourself.” Dick ground his teeth as his eye ran over the lines which confirmed every word of Sarah’s statement. “What are you going to do?” ask ed Sarah with a provoking coolness that roused Dick’s fury. “Do?” he growled. “I’d pommel the villian if I could only lay hands on him !” “I can put you on a better plan.” “What is it ?” “Disguise yourself as the letter in dicates. Be on the spot. little before the time. Give the concerted signal, and when the lady comes flit with her yourself. Ten to one, when she sees I the trap she’s in, she’ll marry you to avoid exposure. At any rate you’ll ’ earn her father’s gratitude by thwart -1 ing Harvey’s plot.” “But suppose Harvey, too, comes before the time and we meet at the : gate?” “Knock him down, beat him sense -1 less, give the signal and get away 1 with the prize before he comes to.” : “I’ll do it I” cried Dick, his eyes flashing fiercely. “Good-by, Sally ; I’ll have news for you when we next 1 meet 1” It lacked a quarter to twelve when Dick Sanders, his face masked, stole up to Mr. Allen’s garden gate. At the same moment a man similarly dis guised approached by another path. 1 For an instant the pair confronted 1 each other. Then both sprang for • ward, striking out with might and : main. Blows rained thick and fast. The combatants were well matched. After a mutual hammering for ten 1 minutes, without advantage on either side, they grappled and went down | together. Then they scuffled and bit ‘ and scratched till they rolled apart ■ from sheer exhaustion and lay glar- L ing at each other in helpless rage. Both their masks were tore in tatters, : and as the bright moonlight beamed down upon their battered faces each ' uttered an exclamation of surprise. ’ “Ted Brant!” panted the one. “Dick Sanders,” gasped the other. “I thought it was that scoundrel Harvey !” replied Dick. “So did 11” rejoined Ted. A brief comparison of notes dis closed that Sarah Blake, after her in terview with Dick, had had a similar one with Ted, the result being as above narrated, a desperate encoun ter, in which each thought he was pommeling away at Will Harvey. The letter, we need hardly say, was the amiable Sarah’s own production. Before Dick and Ted were pre sentable agaia Will Harvey and Jenny Allen were happily married with the full consent of the latter’s father, who, indeed, had never opposed the match. Sarah Blake is still a maiden. — The World. “TELL HER SHE MUST.” The family physician puffed medi tatively at his cigar for a few minutes before coming down to busiuess. “I have been to see your wife, as ; you requested,” he said at last, “and I asked you to come in so that I could tell you what should be done. She’s in a pretty bad way.” “Indeed?” “Yes. No regular sickness, you know, but generally run down and in bad shape. With rest and care she’ll come out all right, but you’ll have to , look after her pretty closely.” “I beg your pardon.” “I say you’ll have to look after her pretty closely. You’ll have to appoint yourself sort of general over seer or supervisor of everything per taining to her welfare for a time and be very strict with her too. In the first place, tell her she must.” “Doctor, are you acquainted with my wife?” interrupted the husband. “Not intimately at all,” replied the astonished physician. “I’ve been , called upon to treat her once or twice, as you know, but that is all.” “Possibly that may be urged as an : excuse,” said the husband, “but it’s not a particularly good one. There are women with whom you are quite well acquainted, are there not?” “Certainly.” “Married women?” “Many of them.” . “And still you advise me to tell my wife that she must do something or other?” r The physician looked at the hus band, and the husband looked at the physician. “My dear sir,” said the physician at last, “it flatters some men to talk , to them that way, but I see you are [ a man of judgment and sense who prefers the truth to all else. Of course what I mean is that you ought to suggest to your wife that if it is in accord with her judgment possibly it might be a good thing to follow the advice that I will now give you. Nat i urally, being married, I know as well ; as you that ‘must’ is a word that ought to be eliminated from the Eng : lish language or at the most confined to the intercourse of parents with children. — Exchange. A Boston lawyer, who brought his wit from his native Dublin, while cross-examiuing the plaintiff in a di l vorce trial, brought forth the follow ing : l “You wish to divorce this woman because she drinks ?’ ’ “Yes, sir.” “Do you flrink yourself?” “That’s my busiuess I” —angrily. ; Whereupon the unmoved lawyer 3 asked : i “Have you any other business?” , Every human soul has the germ l of some flowers within, and they / would open if they could only find s | sunshine and free air to expand it. COURTESY IN CHILDREN. A really gracious and courteous : child is like a fragrant exotic —and about as rare. The average mother seems to consider her children when little as ineligible tor instruction in courtesy as the family cat or dog. When they are older she finds too often they have grown beyond her jurisdiction and advice. While the child is young the moth er’s own courtesy is considered as sufficient to maintain the dignity of the family, but too often the child re ceives some petty questionable exam ples of the real article, as the follow ing illustration will show : On a recent rainy day a sudden downpour sent many pedestrians crowding into the line of cars that followed one another in quick succes sion along a busy thoroughfare. At an especially populous junction peo ple poured in from both ends of the car, filling the seats rapidly. A boy ' of eight or nine years, who entered with his mother, and a young mother with her infant in her arms both ap proached the one vacant seat near the middle of the car. Suddenly the boy awoke to a real ization of the situation, made a rapid dash forward and slid into the seat just as the young mother, steadying her self as best she cou Id, reached it. For an instant she hesitated and looked down at the boy in evident disappoint ment, as though she believed he might rise, but the boy glanced at her and smiled triumphantly at his mother, who had reached him and was stand ing, too. “That’s all right, John nie,” she said, in reply to his look ; “stay where you are.” And Johnnie did. Almost directly another passen ger arose and gave his seat to the young mother, but the boy’s mother stood through the journey of several miles. Yet that kind of a woman would expect every other mother’s son to get up and give her a seat. Courtesy would demand it. It is not always that we have the opportunity of viewing discourtesy in this ugly light, but it is surprising and almost beyond belief how broadcast this spirit is, and how many homes of supposed culture and refinement har bor it in its worst forms. The moth er who defers the teaching of a cour teous manner as though it were a knowledge to be obtained by study, not by application, usually allows these matters to drift during child hood. She permits the children to quarrel among themselves, to main tain their arguments by the law of might and right, to trespass upon the rights and privileges of one another, to resent like impositions by physical argument and to resort to all of the refined cruelties and brutalities that only members of the same family would dare to demonstrate toward one another. Then out of this chaos of bitterness and resentment she will some day expect sweet courtesy to bud and blossom. Courtesy, like charity, begins at home, and when it doesn’t it isn’t worth the name. Teach little chil dren the golden rule as every child should know it —in spirit as well as word. Teach them to respect the rights of others, to show consideration to all who are older, weaker or less fortunate than themselves. Let them know the joy of an occasional self denial and sacrifice, and you have sown the seed of courtesy in its truest and sweetest sense —the only courtesy that is worth the name.- V.M. Wheat. CHASED THE WRONG HAT. A Midvale avenue car was the scene of an amusing exchange of hats the other evening when the wind was high, says the Philadelphia Record. A Frankford man and his wife were in the rear of the open car. When a strong gust of wind blew suddenly, off went the Frankford man’s hat, scooping down the street on its edge. “Oh, let it go I” he exclaimed. “It’s last year’s, anyway.” But just at that moment another gust of wind came along, blowing off the hat of a man in one of the front seats. It flew back, and the Frankford man caught it and put it on his head. The other man looked back and saw the first man’s hat flying down the street. “Stop the car !” he yelled, “I want to get my hat!” The obliging conductor rang the bell, while the second man chased after the Frankforder’s lid. He ran back puffing and perspiring, and was on the car again before he discovered that he had run after the wrong hat. “Why, this isn’t my hat 1” he ex claimed, looking around at the crowd in the car, which was laughing at him. Just then the Frankford man lean ed forward and politely said : “Here’s your hat, sir. Let me have mine, please.” And while the crowd gave a haw-haw, the hat-chaser scratched his head and wondered how it hap pened. TO PAPER A PAINTED WALL. Occasionally a housekeeper wants to paper a room that has previously had the walls painted. This is not easily done, nor one that is by any means cheap, if men must be hired by the day or hour to doit. Any en terprising woman who is willing to take the time and trouble can get the paint off for herself. Mix in a buck et of hot water enough potash to make a strong solution and scrub the walls with a stiff brush dipped in it. Wash off in cold water and finish with dry flannel. If the paint is very old it should be covered with a wash of three parts quickstone lime slaked in water to which has been added one part of potash. Allow this coating to remain on ever night and the paint may be easily scraped off. — New York Press. “An’ how’s yer wife, Pat?” “Sure, she do be awful sick.” “Is ut dangerous she is?” “No; she’s too weak t’ be danger ous anny more.” Better an ounce of example than a pound of advice. THE POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. One of the great philosophers of our time makes the statement that ‘‘the education of a nation can be judged by the length of its words in cc nmon use.” The expanded mean ing of this is that a word in frequent use is subject to a vocal attrition which gradually softens, impairs and elimi nates such of its syllables or parts as anf not strictly essential to the con veyance of its full meaning, and the fink product—pruned, purged and condensed —stands in its curt signifi caace both as the symbol of the thought or thing intended, and as evidence of the innumerable repeti tious which gradually abraded the word to its reduced dimension. )ur language abounds with strik ing illustrations of this law of abridg t,rt. For instance —Monseigneur, Monsieur (Signor, Senor, Senhor), Sieur, Sire, Sir. Again, the old ' English word “dow” means to thrive, to prosper ; hence a dowry to a bride, and en<£mnent of a person or institu tion. 'lhus, How do you dow f means How do you prosper ? or How do you thrive? but the law of pho netic decay has shortened our much used salutation to ‘‘How do you do,” while in Kentucky and our great Southwest the economic abbreviation has progressed to “Howdy.” But perhaps one of the richest phrase-words in English is the rather ponderous, but self-definitory and wholly direct word, “handkerchief.” In it we have an agglutination of monosyllabic words, each standing in trim completeness for a definite and distinct use ; and in the order of their prefixing can be read the layered, en cysted history of a nation’s transient customs. First in order we have “chief,” from chef, the head; then “ker,” which is a variant of “cur,” from cotivre, a cover. Just as couvre fu, cover fire, exists to us as curfew, so couvn-chef head cover, abides with us as kerchief and is eloquent of a time when the sheep-herd, the swine herd, the cow-herd, the hind, and all that great mass cf a nation who are known as “hands,” went about their hewing oi wood and drawing of water with a kerchief, or square of cloth, bound round their heads, both as a protection against the weather and as a sumptuary badge of their serfdom and low condition. The hat was worn only by persons entitled to distinction and in token of their authority, and even to date of this current year of grace we are not wholly emancipate from the glamor of the hat, for do we not still accept the king’s crown, the cardinal’s hat, and the “strike-oil plug” of the suc cessful miner as appropriate tokens of the high estate and condition of their owners? Our cousins across the water still describe a worthless or objectionable man as “a shocking bad hat,” and that the personality of the individual was typified by his hat is easily read in the phrase “hats in the ring,” which meant a hat owner’s protest against alleged unfairness in a ring fight, and bis personal gage of battle for the redemption of his token and the enforcement of his claim. The hat once represented an individ ual much as a flag now represents a nation, and any abasement or insult to the hat was a “fighting insult” to the person concerned and to his fol lowing, hence the meaning of the verse: “There is brass on my target of barkened bulls hide, There is steel in the scabbard that swings by my side, And the brass shall be burnished, the steel shall flash free, ’Ere low litsthe bonnet o’ Bonnie Dundee.” We have no sumptuary laws in this country, but we have an instinc tive sense of fitness and propriety in regard to head covering, a sense that has come down to us through a long inheritance, and its working efficiency is easily tested. Which would shock us the most, to see the Mayor of the City of New York attending to his official duties while wearing a cloth cap, or to see a City Hall bootblack performing the functions of his art while wearing a silk hat ? Well, the drastic rules of hat distinction disap peared with the cheapening of the article, and —save for the sailor of melodrama, the “bandana” of a field hand on a West Indies plantation, and a few of the more remote peasan try of Central Europe—the kerchief as a head covering has dropped to the dump of forgotten things. The next phase in its evolution is the handkerchief, or the hand-car ried-head-cover, and is significant of a more refined age when it was part of a gentleman’s training to carry and use this article of dress with grace and distinction. From the flicking of dust spects from his buc kled shoes and the snuff grains from his lace and ruffles; from its correct disposal on the crook of his disen gaged forearm while doffing the hat (just as the competent waiter carries a napkin when serving a dish), or the dispersal of a too pertinacious or imaginary fly, to the proper cleans ing of the nose and mouth —all were parts in that careful training which made up the now obsolete art of “de portment.” But knee-breeches died out at the dawn of republican institutions, and with our increased number of pockets and a larger need for unhampered hands in the affairs of life it became the pocket-handkerchief, or the pock et-carried-hand-used-head cover. The transitional uses of this necessary ar ticle of dress leaves two things to mourn. First, Why do so many seemingly “desirable citizens” per sist in thrusting the handkerchief into the germ incubating, hot and inacces sible hip pocket, when each and every man of them is provided with an ob vious breast pocket in his coat, in addition to, at least, a couple more outside pockets in that garment? It may be that this crudity is a survival of the farm-land habits of the person or his immediate ancestor, when the coat was an omitted article of workday attire and the hip pocket of the “one suspender” jeans was the most used receptacle, because it was least in the way and the easiest to reach from be tween the plow handles or the seat of a harrow. But whethei this sugges ted explanation be true or not, the fact remains that the practice in point is a perpetuation of the uncouth habits of the kerchief class of a bygone time, and marks the civilization of the in dividual as somewhat less than that of his sartorial equipment. The sec ond theme of mourning is much grav er than the first; and the car compa nies and others who post board of health notices, legal excerpts and prohibitions in conspicuous places are themselves very greatly to blame for the non-observance of these ordi nances. It does not seem to have occurred to those responsible for this literature that the only people this prohibition concerns are our peasants of the kerchief class and period, whose claim to civilization is largely made up of their right to vote and the delu sive veneer of their tailor-made cloth ing. The people of this class are honestly ignorant of the full and proper use of their upholstery, and of the consistently cleanly handling of their persons ; to them the prohibition and the threatened penalties are alike absurd, vexatious and an attempted infraction of their individual rights. The plight of the man who was told that his accustomed practice was forbidden “on the floor,” and who inquired, “Well, where shall I do it, on the ceiling?” is quite intelligible. No one had enlightened him to the civilized use of the most civilized article of dress, and his grievance was a very real one. The place to begin this elementary, but supreme ly important, instruction is the public school; but in the meantime, for tbe sake of tbe public health and the al leviation of a national nuisance, let the street commissioners, the passen ger transportation companies and all others concerned replace or supple ment their present mandatory signs by a little tabloid education for back ward adults. The paragraph need not be long, but should be visible to all, and in certain districts it ought to appear in two or more languages— “Do not spit at all, but, if you must, then use your handkerchief.” —The Independent. TO KILL MOTHS. Contrary to the general belief, cam phor, naphthalene and tobacco will not kill clothes moths, says Suburban Life. They act merely as repellants; where they are used the moths will not deposit eggs. If the eggs are al ready laid or if the young have hatch ed substances of this nature will have no effect. In May or June the moths appear and lay their eggs, which soon hatch into tne destructive grubs that breed on feathers, wool, fur and other things of an animal texture. The campaign against the moths must start early in the spring if immunity for the rest of the year is to be enjoyed. The easiest way to rid clothes of moths is to give them a thorough brushing once a week and then expose them to air and sunshine. Where they are to be packed away, fumiga tion with carbon bisulphide is the surest method. The garments are put in a tight trunk, with moth marbles. Then a saucer is placed on top of the pile with four or five tablespoon fuls of liquid carbon bisulphide in it, easily obtained at all druggists. The lid is closed and the trunk left undis turbed until the clothes are wanted. The bisulphide evaporates, and be ing heavier than air, settles through the garments. It is deadly to insect life and will destroy it in all stages. No odor will remain in the clothes after airing them a few moments, so that they can be used as soon as they are taken out. The moth marbles prevent other females from crawling in to lay their eggs. A simple way, but not so sure, is after brushing the goods to pack them in ordinary paper boxes or flour bags, pasting a strip of paper over the cracks in order to keep out the moths. For closets, cracks, carpets, furniture or carriage furnishing a thorough sprink ling of benzine or gasoline will clear out the pests. MOST USEFUL OF TREES. “The carnahuba palm of Brazil,” said a lumber dealer, “is the world’s most useful tree. A department store tree, you might well call it, for it gives everything from medicine to cattle feed. “Its roots make a very valuable drug, a blood purifier that is prescribed a good deal in the spring. Its timber takes a high polish and is in demand among cabinetmakers for their work. The sap becomes wine or vinegar, ac cording to the way it is prepared, and starch and sugar are also obtained from this sap. “The fruit of the tree is a cattle food, the nut is a good coffee substi tute, the pith makes cork. “There, can you beat it? —medi- cine, sugar, coffee, starch, wine, corks, cattle food, lumber and vine gar—all from this one tree, the car nahuba palm.” A GOOD PUZZLE. Here is a puzzle which you may try to see what you can do with : Tie a string about a yard long to a door key and take the string in the right hand. Hold it so the key will clear the floor four or five inches. If you will hold the string steady enough it will begin to swing back and forth in a straight line. Let another person take your left hand in his, and the motion of the key will change from the pendulum-like swing to a circular swing. If a third person will place his hand on the shoulder of the sec ond person the key will stop. Just try the above and then solve tbe puzzle. A woman always imagines she is charitable when she lets her husband have his own way. Be sure you get a round-trip tick et when you take a trip on a merry go-round. ESTABLISHED 1850. AH IRISH TRIBUTE. I’ve been radin much av foot ball In the papers, And I < notflje y t’hat the Irish are the one’s that gets the praise; . . ~ . From lvery quarther av the land, In college and In school. The min that shine in back and line are Irish as a rule. Yis, it’s Dillon down at Princeton,and it’s Cooney up at Yale, And McDonald av fair Harvard; well he’s some thing av a whale; Cornell lauds Lynch and Cook ; brave boys, and Cosgrove and O’Rourke, And Pennsylvania, Gallagher,whose father came from Cork. As in the Wist so in the Aist, the boys that tops the crew, Are min of Ciltlc cognomina unknown to me and you; The names are all we have to tell their Irish blood and race. Their deeds consume whole colyums av our vallyble shpace.” Yis, it’s Cunningham tackled Capron and threw him for a loss. And Case av Minnesota at fierce tacklin’ was the Young Coughlin ran his team so fast he made the Indians shweat. Where the flghtin’ was the hottest Dunn was always there, you bet. O, the Irish boys are handy boys, ye cannot keep thim down. You’ll find thim purty near the front in nation, shtate and town; In politics they knows the thrloks and thurns thim whin they can. Show me a leader worth the name and I’ll show you an Irishman. Yis, it’s Bailey in the Sinate and Judge White upon the binch, . . . .. .. The mother av our Prisldint was Irish, that s a cinch. It’s Murphy at Manhattan; Fitzgerald Boston rules. As for St. Paul, who has the call 1 O’Connor dhrives the mules. Whin the nation’s fate was tbrimblin’ in the bal ance you’ll recall, • Back in the days whin Freedom’s face was shrouded like a pall; From ’6l to ’66, as afflcer or man. Who marched the best, who shtood the test, who fought and niver ran ? O, it was Sheridan at Winchester, and Corcoran at Bull Run, ~ . . , , And gallant Shields on many fields wint up again’ the gun; Jack Barry on the water, Glnril Meade upon the land. They’re full av grit, as proof av it, the Irish have the sand. Whin Batan and his fallen horde rebilled in haughty pride, . , . . Against the grate Omnipotint and heaven a de crees defied; Jehovah sought a bouncer to disperse the sinful mob. Who was the grate and mighty one silicted for the job ? Will, it wasn’t Fred or Percy or Charley or yet Ben, It wasn’t an English angel, Frinch or Eyetallen ; And it wasn’t Sam or Abraham or Absolom or Ike, The one that lid the overthrow was the Irish angel Mike. -M. J. Donnelly CO'Soolivan.") A YAWH ACTS AS A TONIC. According to current idea, yawning in good society is an improper sign of weariness; according to the teachings of physiology, it is a long-drawn, forcible inspiration, followed by a shorter respiration ; according to Dr. Naegeli, the great European physi cian, it is one of nature’s many reme dies, the proper application of which depends upon good judgment. In yawning not only the muscles which move the lower jaw are used, but also he who yawns in the proper way also raises and extends the arms. In the deepest inspiration the chest remains extended for a short time, the eyes are almost or eutirely closed, the ears somewhat raised, the nostrils dilated. Inside the mouth the tongue round and arched, the palate stiffly stretched, and the uvula is raised almost entirely closing the space be tween the nose and throat. At the beginning of the inspiration, cracking noise is heard in the ears, a proof that the duct leading to the hearing also succumbs to this stretching. If the yawning has reached the deepest point, it will require from one to one and a half seconds for it to be come noticeable to the hearing. To observe this, let one place himself at a sufficient distance from a clock, so that its ticking will not be easily heard, and yawn deeply. During this deep breathing the sound of the clock is not perceptible to the most careful listening. All this sim ply goes to show that yawning sets a number of muscles to work, and par ticularly those which are not subject to the will. Although a person yawning does not present a very agreeable appear ance, a yawn is very agreeable to the person yawning, for the stretching of muscles causes a feeling of comfort. It acts like massage, and is most nat ural gymnastics of the lungs imagina ble. Dr. Naegeli, therefore, advises people not to concern themselves with so-called decency, but every morning and evening and as often as possible to exercise the lungs and all the mus cles of respiration by yawning and stretching, as many chronic lung trou bles may thus be prevented. He orders the patient troubled with too much wax in the ears, accompani ed with pain, to yawn often and deep ly. He also, in cases of nasal catarrh, inflammation of the palate, sore throat and earache, orders the patient, as often as possible during each day, to yawn from six to ten times successive ly, and immediately after to swallow. The result will be surprising. If one looks upon yawning as a natural mas sage for certain organs, he will reach a satisfactory explanation of its cura tive properties. TIT FOR TAT. An old carrier of the United States mail traveled on his buckboard about a dozen miles through the woods twice a week. He was an ill-humored, tac iturn old fellow. One day a man who was on a walking vacation trip asked if he might have a ride with him, and, being somewhat talkative, asked many questions along the way. At last the old man said : “I’m tired of your talk. I wish you’d mind your own business and let me mind mine.” The passenger subsided. After driving an hour or two in Si lence, the old carrier discovered that his mail pouch was missing. He stopped the horses, looked all about the buckboard, and finally said to the passenger: “I wonder what has become of the mail bag ! Have you seen it ?” “Yes.” “Well, where is it?” “It fell off tbe wagon about an hour ago,” slowly replied the passenger ; | • ‘but it wasn’t any of my business.’ ’ “Can you keep a secret?” i “lam as silent as a tomb.” [ “i need to borrow some money.” “Don't worry. It is as though I never heard it.” The more a man knows the less he pretends to know. SLEEF AND NERVE REST. In the days when eight hours for sleep were nominally regarded as an hour too long for any self respecting individual the exhausting character of modern life was unknown. There was less wealth and more content ment ; less competition and more se curity ; fewer distractions, but more simplicity. Work was easier, slow er, and care, anxiety, apprehension —in a word, worry—did not feed, like the worm i’ th’ bud, upon the hours exempt from toil. We are re morseless in overtaxing the delicate mechanism of our minds and nerves. The best walker, for instance, does not propose to himself to go regular ly sixty miles a day or to subject the same set of muscles in any other form of physical exercise to intense and un remitting labor. But that is what we do with the immediate agent of our minds —the brain machine. We cannot watch its operations. We often assume that its movements are as light and endless as the ripples of the universal air. We know and nevertheless we forget that the brain is a substantial apparatus as liable to depreciation as the fixed plant in a workshop. Now, nothing is more certain than this—that the potential capacity of the human brain has not increased, if at all, in anything like the proportion of the immensely ag gravated demands upon it. The modern man is subject to as much mental and moral wear and tear in a day as his ancestors in no very remote generation experienced in a week. Yet in respect of sleep we have hardly changed traditional habit. We keep later and still later hours. We catch our trains in the morning as usual. There is no doubt whatever that we burn the candle at both ends with unprecedented disre gard of the laws of psychological economy, aud that the amount of rest we allow for nerve and brain is no longer adequate.— London Telegraph. IT 18 TIME TO CALL A HALT. From the Readei : The killing of people on railways continues to make a horrible record. Rather more than a death for every hour in the day and ten persons maimed for every sixty minutes is something a people not seared against slaughter should find to trouble sleep until it is remedied. Every ninety minutes there is a colli sion or derailment. During a year there is one of these accidents for every sixteen miles of track. Of em ployes of railways one out of every twenty-eight is injured every year. If this is true of railway employes in general, the risk in the more hazard ous branches of the business must be terrific. If the people killed and maimed were placed along the track age of the United States at regular in tervals, there would be a fresh every twenty-one miles, every ye&r, and a cripple every two or three miles. In t wenty -one years the grave stones would become milestones, if the slaughter goes on, and the maimed would be within an ordinary city block of each other along every mile of right of way. Such battles as Bull Run, Fort Donelson, Shiloh and tysburg fill us with horror and con- ■ sternation, as we hear or read of 9 windrows of slain, streams running a red to the sickening waste of human ■ life. But for the year ending March * 31, 1906, the railways of the United States killed and wounded 95,801 people, while the killed, wounded and missing of both Confederates and Federals for the battles of Gettys burg, Shiloh and the first battle of Bull Run all combined amount to the less heart breaking total of 92,300. The worst (or best) of it is that other nations run their railways without this daily carnage. Why do not we ? A GOVERNMENT BIRD. Under a glass case in the cabinet of the United States Mint, in Phila delphia, stands the beautifully mount ed body of an American eagle, whose counterfeit presentment adorns the silver dollar of 1836-8, and the nick el cent of 1856. “Peier,” for that was the eagle’s name, was one of the finest of his kind ever captured alive. He was the pet of the Philadelphia Mint, and was generally known as “the Mint bird.” He was perfectly tame, and ; had free access to every part of the ’ building, going without hindrance 1 into the treasure vaults where even the Treasurer of the United States would not be allowed to go alone. : The government provided his daily ' fare, and he was as much a part of 1 the Mint establishment as the super intendent or tbe chief coiner. He was so kindly treated that he had no fear of anything or anybody. One day he sat down to rest upon ( one of the great fly-wheels. The : wheel started without warning and : Peter was caught in the machinery. One of his wings was broken and he 1 was so badly injured that he died a 1 few days later. The superintendent bad the body of the eagle mounted, with its wings spread to their fullest extent. An exact portrait of him as he stands in the case was put upon the coins named. ROUGH ON THE BRIDE. Very few persons acquit themselves nobly in their maiden speech. At a : wedding feast recently the bridegroom was called upon as usual, to respond to the given toast, in spite of the fact that he had previously pleaded to be excused. Blushing to the roots of his hair, he rose to his feet. He intended to imply that he was unprepared for speechmaking, but, unfortunately, placed bis hand upon the bride's shoulder, and looking down at her as he stammered out his opening (and concluding) words: “This —er—thing has been thrust upon me.” A business woman should never : propose to a man who can’t cook or sew on buttons.