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*• Ti?oT- n ' r -i^ ie j Va J^ c - v " ell Enough” men are ear el era and joyous and free: 01 * and they cat and they love a hit, and they grow old happily; An,l *, * iaz J' da-lance gleam the peaks of the unknown; “Fame,” i ne that has traveled that difficult steep can enter the valley again. The way is o’er rocks, sharp and jagged and cruel; through fierce heat, with a dead \v i V ng tlurst ; How C hl ln'J ater n HpS rnol ],p l ow the depths of the way that to him is accursed, and frre- m ' am ' tor a nen dly hand-clasp, for the smiles that were ready BUt H view. y not tUr " b?ck ' 50 he sLni Z' ]es along, with the joy of achievement in vJ? B*’ 8 *’ l° n3 j° u ™ e -V ’ see torn hands and feet,and face drawn and wrinkled ' 11 u pain; \nd S VI. n ..'l S at l> th *l BUm 7 lit of ~ ro3t dcsire - d ' re H r -n his priceless gain. V- .. . , n a “? the sadness oi ;• cart-breakl was not that a man’s c-rv of woe? w -i tic longs to return to tue land he has lost—to the ’Well-Enough” valley below. '1 —Grace E. Bostwick, in New York Tribune, . l %AN OUT-OF-SCHOOL LESSON f ; By HILDA RICHMOND. v|> I think old Mr. Winter is too par ticular for any ns?,” said Mark Car no.', throwing his cap on a chair and hastening to the supper l e . “Ev * 1 ' thing has to be done hi ; way, and its always tho longest way, too.” What is tho matter. Mark?” in quired his father. “I th nght you i'kod. the place very much.” “I do, papa, but it seems so un reasonable to do things die most tedious way when it don’t matter hew they’re done.” ‘.Mr. Winton pays for your time till S o’clock every even In;, and has a right to say what you sh ’I do and bow. You would not make a good soldier, Mark, for the fir; r duty of sin enlisted man is to obey without questioning. I must go to Chicago on the 7.C0 train and haven’t time now to talk about your work, but you must give satisfaction if ' u expect to keep the place. Bea good boy rml mind your mother. Remember, there are four or five bo; s for every place, and Mr. Winton aa easily find one to fill yours if you don’t suit.” , Mr. Carney’s words s t his son to thinking, and he finish*: 1 his supper in silence; but when tho evening lamp shone down on the pile of school books he had brought home v iMi him. Mark broke out again: “I might have had all these prob lems worked if he hadn’t been so particular about his old barrels.” “Don’t you think it very impolite to criticise a gentleman of sixty?” inquired Mrs. Carney, reprovingly. “A boy of twelve should know better, p.nd I was sure my sun did till I hoard him at the tabb* this evening.” “Well, mamma, he is unreasona ble. 1 don’t say that to be impolite, but only to let you know how he makes me work. Every afternoon this week I’ve been piling old barrels in Dio storeroom when there were no errands to do, and Mr. Winton wants them arranged just so. As if it made any difference so they’re out. of tho way! Onco or twice a year a huckster from a little town comes to buy them to ship butter and produce in. Fred Miller says he’s cranky about everything, and no one can pleaso him.” “Was Fred in the storeroom? 1 thought Mr. Winton’s rules forbade people sitting around talking to the clerks." “lie wasn't inside. Ho just stood at (ho door and talked awhile. Be sides, Mr. Winton is out of town to day, and wouldn’t have seen him if be had come in, though I didn’t ask him.” “Did you arrange the barrels as Mr. Winton directed?” “Well, not exactly. He said to take everything from one side of the storeroom and pile the barrels in tiers along the wall, but there were some boxes there the same height as tho barrels, so I lot them stay. 1 suppose I could have crowded them closer together, but the stack looks all right from the outside. He won’t be around when the man loads them up, so it don’t make any difference. I? would have taken another whole evening to put them in as he said, and he’ll think I’m a swift worker when he gets back and finds it all done.” • “What if he asks you about it?” asked Mrs. Carney. Her son’s care less ways had long been a source of worry to her, and it was in the hope of having them corrected that she al lowed him to work in the store. No amount of talking and reasoning had been able to convince him of the dan ger of forming slipshod habits in youth. “No fear of that,” said Mark, con fidently. “I’ve worked there six months, and I don’t believe he's been in the storeroom more than twice. He’s forgotten all about them by this lime, I suppose.” “1 can’t see why it makes any dif ference to you what you do. He pays for your time, and if he wants you to take six afternoons to put old bar rels away instead of three, why, you might as well do it. Was it such a Laird task?” “No, easy as anything, but, you see, when I’m in the store waiting for errands to do I work my problems for tho next day. I have to sit on a stool at the cashier's desk where the clerks can call to me, and sometimes it’s fifteen minutes between jobs. Can't you help me a little to-night, mamma? It’s S o’clock and I’ve only worked two. They are so hard and long.” Mark looked up in surprise when his mother began swiftly working out of the long problems, only say ing—- “It is rather late. You take the third, and I’ll try the fourth.” It was the first time Mrs. Carney had over worked out a problem for him, so it was no wonder Mark was astonished. She was always willing to explain and lend a helping hand in the difficult parts, but never solved them outright for him. She thought it encouraged cheating to do the work that belonged to someone else, and always kept Mark at his tasks till all were mastered. “Did you get the third?” she in quired half an hour later. “Here are the fifth and sixth. How many are there in the lesson?” “But. mamma, this isn’t the way Miss Fillmore makes us work them. J can’t copy them on my paper for to-morrow.” I don’t see why not,” said Mrs. : Canrey, without looking up. “There , a.ro several methods of solving these i problems, and I used the shortest one. The answer is correct, and that is the necessary thing. Where is the rest of the eighth written out? It seems to be all mixed up, or I can’t find it,” and she turned the* papers with an abstracted air. iss Fillmore says we must use i the long way for the present, and when we are older the short cuts will come naturally to us. I’m so sorry I can’t have these, for I wanted a good average this month. If our averages are high for the term, we won’t have to be examined.” “Just write your name at the top of my sheets and hand them in,” suggested Mrs. Carney. “Miss Fill more will probably never look farther than the answers, and you will get your high grade very easily. I won der why she is so particular about methods.” “I see what you are trying to do, mamma,” said Mark suddenly. “You are showing me where I was wrong about the barrels this afternoon. I ought to have put them up as Mr. Winton said, without grumbling or wondering why.” “You have guessed it exactly, Mark. One of the greatest faults children have is the idea that they know more than older people. I am glad you can see why my prob lems cannot be given to Miss Fill more. oven if you copy them. Her method is not the shortest one, but is the best for beginners. What sort of work would be done in school if each pupil did the work as he pleased and was counted perfect if he could get the correct answer to his prob lems regardless of method? It is the same way ’ ■ business, and those who rise from low to higher places are the people who obey orders exactly as if they were soldiers?” “I’m sorry I worried you, mam ma.” said Mark in manly fashion. “If you will explain this part to me I’ll try to work them all, and when Mr. Winton rimes home I'll tell him about the barrels. By working over time I can straighten them out, but it will take a long time.” “That pleases mo more than any thing else you could possibly do. I think it will be the turning point of your life if you carry out your re / solve, for no one can hope to succeed who has careless ways,” said Mrs. Carney. It was late that night when the last problem was worked, but Mark had his reward next day when Miss Fillmore read out the names of the scholars who had perfect lists, and his was the first on the list. Fie worked harder than ever that day, and it was the recollection of his high grades that helped him to make his way to Mr. Winton’s private office as soon as school was out. It seemed to Mark that Mr. Win ton looked very stern as he stam mered and tried to tell his story. At last something in the old gentleman’s eyes gave him courage, and he told all about the barrels, not sparing himself in the least. A great weight rolled off his mind when he said: “If you’ll only give me a chance, I’ll put the ’ -reels as you want them, and then try to show you that I don't always shirk.” “Why did you come and toll me this?” asked Mr. Winton. “Did your conscience trouble you, or were you afraid I might find you out?” “My mother showed me last night that the only way to do things is the right way, and while you are paying me for my time, your way is right,” said Mark. “I thought it didn’t make any difference so they were out of the way, but I can see now that I ought to have piled them as you said with out thinking about your reason for doing it that way. I hope you will let me work after the store closes every night till they are all in place.” “That’s the right spirit, my boy. Tel! your mother I am proud to have her son in my store. She used to play with my little girls years ago, and I have never forgotten her frank, winning ways,” said Mr. Winton. “Now, about those barrels. You may begin this evening and work an hour each night till they are in order.” “Thank you, sir,”said Mark, heart ily. “I wonder why I always thought he was unreasonable,” he thought to himself as he left the store an hour later than usual, but with a light heart. “I expected he'd fire me right away.” “How many barrels?”asked a voice a week later, as Mark proudly placed the last one against the wall. He had been working very swiftly to get through, but there were no vacant spaces among them. Mark ran his eye over the orderly pile and made a quick calculation. “One hundred and fifty-six,’’ came the ready response. “Right, and now do you see why they must be in order? The man who buys them usually comes on our busiest days, and it is necessary that we knew how many there are in stantly. It is likely he will bo here next Saturday, and you can easily see how much work your carelessness would have caused. We had qne boy who stored taem away over some boxes and barrels of salt, and the wagons had to be unloaded to count ihem, as they ran short at the last minute.” “I’m very glad .hat will not hap pen this time,” said Mark, with, i sigh of relief. “I am very glad, too,” said Mr. Winton. “Take your mother's advice and remember It pays In the end to be strictly honest. By the way* are you thinking of giving Up your place? Fred Miller said you were, and ap plied for It last week. I told him 1 would not promise till I had heard from you about It.*’ “I don’t want to give it up if yea are satisfied with me,” said Mark, thinking of how Fred had encouraged him to slight nis tasks. *‘i want to Prove that I can obey orders.” It was a long time before Mark conquered his habit of grumbling over his tasks, but in time the good habits became as fixed as the bad ones had been. Every time he ■ thought his employer unreasonable he thought of the barrels, and tried to remember that he must not expect to know the reason for everything he had to do. “What do you think, mother?” ho said laughingly, as he came in from work several years later. “I found a boy piling up barrels in the store room just as I did when I was new at the business.” “What did you do?” inquired Mrs. Carney. “Told him my experience,” said the tall youth, promptly. “He took my little lecture good naturedly and began over again. How bumptious and important I must have acted when I was his age!” “That seems a long time ago, and now you are one of the best clerks they have,” said Mrs. Carney, proud ly. “Yes, it is true,” she went on, as Mark protested with very red cheeks against this statement. “Mr. Win ton told me so yesterday, and says you will have a still better place as soon as you have finished school. I am sure it helped you very much to have to work after the others had gone home, even if it seemed hard just then.” “It helps mo yet, mother. I never go Into the storeroom that I don't think of it and feel grateful to you and Mr. Winton. It makes me have more patience with boys younger than I am, too, for someone had to have lots of patience with me—and does yet,” said Mark, stooping to kiss his mother. —Zion’s Herald. DVST^IJ In tho Journal fur Infektionskrank heiten Dr. Ford describes his method of vaccinating as a remedy for mush room poisoning. He found, by experi menting, that animals into which ho had injected an autitoxine could stand a dose of poison ten times stronger than others. It is asserted by high authorities that neither great heat nor long main tenance of the requisite temperature is required to sterilize milk suspected of containing the germs of diseases, such as tuberculosis. The bacilli of that terrible disease are destroyed by a temperature of 195 degrees in five minutes. The Prince of Monaco, acknowledged to the the greatest living authority on oceanography, lias decided to establish in Paris an institution for seabed re search and will endow it with some thing like $1,000,000. He has spent a great deal of money in searching out tlie secrets of the sea. His splendid yacht Princess Alice is fitted up with fine laboratories and photographic rooms. ' - r _ _ A Berlin paper tells of a now device (hat makes herring fishing easy. A microphone, which magnifies sounds, is plunged into the sea to ascertain if fish are pasing that way. A wjre connects the submerged microphone with an ordinary receiver, with which one listens to what is going on in the depths of the sea. Excellent results have been obtained in the North Sea by the invention for signaling the pass ing of the herring shoals. It is said by some students of tbe origin of the great iron and steel in dustry that the Japanese many gene rations ago used to make steel in a ouridus manner which is not wholly understood. They forged#iron into the shapes desired and then buried it eight or ten years in marshy ground. Through some process of nature, which may have been due to the presence of peculiar chemicals in the soil, it came out steel. The manufacture of cement in the United States continues to make re markable progress. Whereas in 1890 there were sixteen factories, producing annually 335,000 barrels of Portland cement, there were, in 1905, eighty-two plants, with an estimated output of 31,000,000 barrels. The manufacture has increased about a hundredfold in sixteen years, for in ISS9 the total pro duction was 300,000 barrels. Since the great extension of the use of this ma terial, tho amount of natural cement produced iu America has rapidly de clined. . ■pt, f ,* t The enormous salt deposits in Kan sas, beginning in Ellsworth and Sa line counties, extends south through the counties of Rice, McPherson, Staf ford, Reno, Harvey, Kingman. Sedg wick. Harper and Sumner. Salt wells are found outside of this district, but it is believed that their water is made salt by coming in contact with the salt bed within the counties named. A few years ago it was estimated that Kan sas had twenty trillion barrels of salt and could alone supply the demand of ihe United States for more than a mi! lion years, —' % ~ - - Landlord's Share. The Turkish bey landlord in Mace donia gets half the farmer’s pro duce. Every village supports a num ber of Turkish policemen, who are really parasites, the average house hold paying them $6.25 out of an income of $50 —not for protection, but for a precarious immunity* from . * outrages. An Epitaph. Beneath these stones reclin® th® the bones Of ’Pologetic Brown, Most pathetic* ’pologetic Feller in this town. Asked to be forgiven, sir* Minute he was born; ’Pclogized fer livin’, sir. Reg’lar, night and morn. ’Pologized fer calin’, An’ when be went to meetin Prayed the Lord, “Excuse me, please. fer askin’ so an’ sol” When be courted Susan lie went right on excusin’—. ’Pulngized fer askin’ her as scon’s she’d answered, “No!” Every:nc picked on ’im. Cur dogs was “sicked” on ’im, Brown he took ’is martyrdom with pious, humble pride; Fin’ally, jest to spite us, He got ’pendicitus, Tologizod fer troublin’ us, then wont away and died. Here lies Brown, and let us speak With due respect for such; H v r n Inver the mild and meek, But wo don’t need ’em much.— Wallace Irwin in “Success Maga zine.” ?J^S3ESHSZSBJ^SZSZScIS2SH.SHSZScSa | MUCH CHUCK. | n tO All day long and every day while I was at the agency ho sat upen the trader’s stoop or lounged upon his count : rs. I often wondered at Bon hcmine's tolerance, and set it down to he easy-going ways of the French- Vmeritan. Cf all the Eros Ventres it Y ! v Water, Much Chuck seemed n st to a useless vaga bond. Then one evening, for a silver quar or the ‘ 1 a ior sent him to the camp if ihe agency’s “boss farmer,” six miles away. Much Chuck carried ifty pounds cf side perk on a shoul der, and the rate at which he loped across the pr .'trie was surprising. Bon tienvm ' lunched as ho saw me looking tl aliened Gros Ventre. “Didn’t think there was so much action there, heh?” ho said. “Much Chuck is like the rest of our In dians — pay one for doing what he knows how to do, and away he goes, fhat follow was on the police ferce here twenty-five years ago, and did a nice to this agency that no wnite cldicr ecu' ! have done. “After Sitting Bull had been run off to Canada the troops were with irawu from this neighborhood, and soon we began to have trouble. First a Gres Ventre siolc a pony from the Crews; then a young Crow shot a Gros Ventre in the hand. Alter that and ski; raishing hack and f rth, till at last .he Gros Vena-es made a grand coup, and came in with two hand ed Crow ponies. “Worse than all, the ra/cals ran their booty into the govern ment cor ral. McCall, the agent, suit ten of Ms Indian police out to tura the herd Pose. His men came bai k present ly without their guns, revolvers and ammunit ion belts. "Much Chuck, then a yc ung fellow, was t’ne only p Merman to retain his arms. Ho had been kept on duty at the office. As there were only a half dozen ol 1 needleguns left in the armory, McCall found I Imself in a poor way to enforce anthority He hadn’t even telegraph communication with the posts five hundred miles away. “The Gros Ventres herded those stolon ponies, and kert a lockout in daytime, and at nigh, shut them in the big corral under guard. The agent then occupied the vacated bar racks opposi’e what Is now the Gray Sisters’ School, and the government coral was in a loop of the river be low, where a deep channel, cut into the rocks, protected it on all sides xcept that fa< ii; the agency. The fort, or barracks, was a log quad rangle built upon a little height over looking the corral and the flats below. My store stood outside, next to the left wing of this quadrangle. The Gros Ventre lodges, for the most part, were strung along a fringe of tim ber below the loop. “For a number of days things went on smoothly to all outward appear ance. Then the Crows came. About four hundred—all of Broken Kettle’s band and some of the mountain Crows beyond—rode down to the agency at sunrise. They Vore mostly armed with breech-loaders, and when they summoned McCall out to them, I rec kon his hair stood on end. “Through their Interpreter they ac cused him cf sending his Indians to steal their horses, and they demanded the return of the animals and a lot of goods and rations for indemnity. And McCall could only tell them, with a great show of indignation that lie was not responsible for any sort of Indian thievery. He told them how he had tried to turn their ponies loose and what the Gros Ventres had done. • This was openly admitting that he had no authority over his Indians. But he was anew man out here, and be was scared and excited. V hen he had finished, the Crows set up a howl of wrath, and shook their guns at him. They told him that they were going to wipe out his Gros Ventres and then bum the agency. “The Crows outnumbered our In dians two to one, and we had at the barracks less than a dozen half-arm ed employes. Broken Kettle had se cured men and ponies from Gray Bull’s mountain Crows—the worst lot of untamed savages north of Mexico. “As 1 stood in the doorway of my store, taking in that angry crowd, I admit that I was scared. “I looked toward the Gros \ entre village, and saw the inhabitants scur rving, men, women, and children, to the cover of the breaks just above their teepees. From the broken cou lees they could command the horse corral with their rifles. “The Crows had relied upon their numbers and the justice of their claim to gain the return of their ponies. They had not expected they would have to fight. ■“But now they wheeled, scattered, and rode, with guns at a ready, straight toward the corral. On they went till a volley from the Gros Ven tres halted them. “They wheeled about, retreated out of range, and opened fire on the agency. Luckily, everybody who was looking out of an opening had time to dodge. They fired only a single shot or so to the man. but every door and window on that face of the bar racks wks riddled. Only my store was untouched. “When their firing was checked, tbo Crow chiefs rode back add forth in front of their men, flourishing their guns and whooping threats. “It was plain that they held the agency responsible for tS? taking of their horses, and in a measure u*ey were right. “What was to be done? McCall came hastily into ray store to advice. But the matter had airily gone beyond my wisdom in Indian af fairs. “Then a single figure appeared cn oirr right—a policeman who had rid den round from the stables in the rear. It was young Much Chuck, dressed in his blue uniform, riding a white cavalry horse, with his rude swung across the saddle in front. “’He was trim and soldierly, not so fat as now, and he made a fine show, at which we looked for a second in astonishment. *“ ‘What can he be thinking of!’ said McCall. ‘The only fighting sol dier I’ve got!’ “The Crows wondered, too. at first, for Much Chuck rode straight toward them. When close to a group of chiefs he halted, raised his right hand, and spoke some words in their own tongue. Many of our Gros Ventres had a smat tering of Crow. “We could hear nothing of what was raid until, at the close of the con ference. a number of the Crow chiefs shouted, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ That was en couraging. “Then we saw Much Chuck ride on down the line of the hostiles, pass them, and go straight on toward the Gres Ventres. “To his fellows In the breaks he made signs as if to approach them for a talk. This he kept on doing until he was opposite the horse corral, when he turned suddenly and made a dash to the gate, which was on the side facing the fort. Then he jumped quickly from his horse, threw the gate wide open, and rushed in among the ponies. In a second or two he had the whole herd going at the open ing like a flock of sheep. “Then the Gros Ventres cut loose with their rifles. In a half-minute’s’ firing they had killed a dozen ponies; but Much Chuck was unhurt, and at the tail cf the herd he jumped a pony *and came on, lying flat upon its back. “Under a hail of shots he pushed the big bunch out of range, and then, with a whoop, the Crows swung in be hind and took charge. They had re covered all their own animals, except the few killed, and some thirty or forty Gros Ventre horses besides. The capture satisfied them, and they lode off. yelling. "Then that brave policeman came wa’king slowly toward the agency. “ ‘The last of Much Chuck,’ said 1. and I could hardly keep from crying. McCall looked at me, winking hard. “ ’He’s saved us,’ he said, ‘and the Gros Ventres will skin Lim alive. I can do nothing.’ “Much Chuck walked by without so much as looking at *,s. He went round the barracks and disappeared. McCall left me to go to him, but I never heard what the *gent said to his policeman. Some two Lours afterward Gros Ventres began stringing up from their village, and in a i’ttle vhile the group of police cabins back c f the fort was surrounded by Indians foot. “While I stood looking out of my rear door, I saw Mu. h Chuck come out of his shack and walk toward a bunch of Indians gathered at a corner of the stockade. H< had painted his face and body in >jllow and green, and wore only the breech-cloth and bonnet of eagle fea, hers. The chiefs and others that he ;arae toward were within a few rods of my rear yard, and I could hear i click of breech bolts as they uncovered the carbines concealed beneath their blankets. “ ‘lt’s all up with Much Chuck,’ thought I. “He had come to surrender in time to save an attack on his cabin, where he had a wife and baby. I walked out to the stockade fence, and stood leaning against the timbers as Much Chuck came up to the chief. The young fellow looked the chief in tae eye for a moment; then he spoke. “ ‘Y'ou have seen,’ he said, ‘what 1 have done. I did it to save my poo pie and because I was a soldier of the Great Father. Your father here, the agent, knew nothing cf my inten tion —he is in no way to blame for my acts. I am an Indian, —a Gros Ventre —and 1 am not afraid to die.’ “When he had finished, his own brother. Blue Face, leaped at him, struck him on the mouth, snatched his war-bonnet off, threw it on the ground and stamped on it. “ ‘You say you are a Gros Ventres.’ he shouted, ‘and I say yo / are a liar!’ and be stepped back and cocked his gun. He would have shot Much Chuck then and there, but I jumped at Blue Face, flung him in a heap, and wrenched his gun from Irs hands. Then I stepped in front of Much Chuck, and the words came hot and fast. I suppose I never was so furi ous. “ ‘You miserable cowards!’ I said. I will shoot the first one who lays a hand on this brave soldier. H nv many of you, this morning, expected to see another sun? This man has turned aside the vengeance of the Crows and the anger also of your Great Father. You are fools. Y'ou could not have saved a horse of the stolen herd. Some of your own are driven away. Y ery well, I will pay you for them myself —ten dollars in goods for each Gros Ventre pony killed or taken. “Well it happened I jumped in at the right moment, and the pumise of pay for their ponies saved Much Chuck. Very likely that’s the reason, since the police force was reduced, that he sits round in my store eo much.” —Youth’s Companion. ISOLATE DEGENERATES. Benefits to Society From Segregatioi of All Deficients. There is no reason why societj should not relieve itself of the bur den of mental and physical degen erates in two or three generations ae cording to Alexander Johnson, secre tary of the National Conference ol Charity and Correction. This can b< accomplished very easily, Mr. John son told the School of Philanthropy simply by segregating these individ ualS; “They should be educated to the fullest extent possible,” he said, “anc it is astonishing what can be done with a feeble minded child if it is taught young. They should be madt useful and happy and provided wilt every possible amusement, from ‘Pnss in the Corner’ to grand opera, bu l they should not be permitted to share the joys and sorrows of married life “This is not a great deprivation, and the only happiness possible tc defectives is in an environment speci ally adapted to their condition. R the right environment it is very easy ;o make them happy-. They should be taken into the care of the mothei state from childhood until death, and thereby the state will be serving not only its own best interests, but those of the defective Individuals. I don i like paternalism in government, but we can’t have too much maternalism “The state is the greater parent and has rights paramount to those of the natural parent. For hundreds of years the state has stepped in to protect a child’s property against its natural guardian. Later we came to see tha! the state should protect a child’s pei son against the violence of parents, and now it is beginning to interfere in behalf of the child’s intellect and character.” Mr. Johnson added that this segre gation of defectives was merely the beginning of a science of stirpiculture. “The time is coming,” he said, “when we will take just as much can? in reproducing the human species as we do now in feeding animals.” Although Mr. Johnson believes in eliminating bad stock, he thinks that the idea of heredity has been greatly overworked, and that environment is a matter of infinitely more import ance. “I would rather he horn in the worst slum, of the worst parents that ever were,” he said, “and he removed to a satisfactory environment at birth than be born under the best possible conditions and then he removed to a bad environment. Heredity is a pow erful factor, and we need never be surprised at anything it does. There is an aristocratic family in England where one of the males in every sec ond generation becomes Insane at the age of forty-five. Think of the won derful properties of a microscopic speck of matter which will produce such a chain of events, let this in fluence is slight compared with that of environment, and much that passes as heredity is really the result of en vironment.” Mr. Johnson expressed the opinion that Guiteau and probably Czolgosz were defectives and ought to have been sent to insane asylums, instead of being executed. “It is just as well, perhaps, to hang those fellows and get them out of the way,” he remarked. “It is cheaper than confining them. But they aie not morally responsible.”—New York Tribune. Bigness in Dakota. “Y T es, sir,” resumed the Dakota farmer, as the crowd of agriculturists seated themselves round a little ta ble; “yes, sir, we do things on ra ’her a sizable scale. I’ve seen a man on one of our big farms start out in the spring and plow a straight furrow un til autumn. The he turned around and harvested back. We have some big farms up there, gentlemen. A friend of mine owned one which he had to give a mortgage on. and I pledge von my word the mortgage was due at one end before they could get it recorded at the other. You see, it was laid out in counties. And the worst of it is it breaks up fam ilies so. Two years ago I saw a whole family prostrated with grief women yelling, children howling and dogs barking. One of my men had his camp truck packed on seven four mule teams, s.nd be was going round bidding everybody goodby.” “Where was he going?” “He was going Half way across the farm to feed the pigs,” replied the Da kota man. “Did he ever get back to his fam ily?” “It isn't time for him yet. I p there we send young married couples out to milk the cows, and their chil dren bring home the milk. lit- Bits. Timber Preservatives. What will ultimately be the largest plant in the world for treating timber with preservatives is now operated at Somerville, Tex., by the Atchison- To, peka and Santa Fe Railrcad. \\ hile every form of timber treatment is used, the creosote system has proved the most successful. Creosote H shipped to Galveston in shiploads and transported to Somerville, where it is used to preserve timber of every var iety. This is very expensive, as may be seen when it is known that pi I ins in its natural state costs about M cents a foot, while a treated pile costs between 90 cents and sl. But it pays to go to the extra expense. Creo sole piling that has been in the Gal veston bridge for nearly fifteen years is still sound and in a good state of preservation; while the average life of an untreated pile is less than one year, many of them being unfit for service after being in the water thirty days. This quick destruction is caused by the attacks of the teredo, a salt-water mollusk that honeycombs the wood to such an extent that in a short time it will not hear is own weight—Railway World. Miss Belle McTyre, of Chesterfield, Va„ recently killed a large eagle which had been feasting for some time on her chickens. The eagle measured 5 feet 0 7-8 inches froxr wing to wing. ®5rKiK5 BULLY TIMES. These be happy moments. These be golden hours, , When the summer solotlce * Lazies all our powers. And everybody’s careless. Laggard on his feet. Since nobody wants to Make both ends meet. Now in life worth living And improvidence Grows into a virtue Of much excellence. . What's the good of worry? Care is in retreat. Since nobody wants to Make both ends meet. W. J. Lafnpton in the New York World. AN AWFUL RISK. Mr. Mosquito-—These meat dis closures are startling. Mrs. Mosquito—Yes; do be careful what kind of man you bite.—New York Sun. THE LONG WAIT. •Wife —i have been waiting for you to come home. Husband—Well, I was just waiting for you to stop waiting. —New Yoik Sun. GOOD EVIDENCE. •‘Do you think the auto will eventu ally be the means of doing away with horses?” 4 T know it. I’ve seen two killed right in my own street.’ —Milwaukee Sentinel. OH, WHY ? “We visited the slums yesterday.” “Isn’t it awful the way people live?” “Indeed, it is. Why will people per sist in living in such sections? Louisville Courier-Journal, AMBITION. [ ghe—Now that you have an auto mobile that will break records, are you not satisfied? He —No. I want one that will break trees and telegraph poles,—Lite. TOO SWIFT. “Do you think the opportunity seeks the man?” “Yes, hut some men go at such a rapid pace it can’t catch up with them.” —Detroit Free Press. FINANCIAL SUCCESS. Miss Askitt —'So you found marriagf a failure, did you? Mrs. Exwed—No, Indeed. The court granted me $5,000 a year alimony. * Chicago News. FEMININ B VIBVV POINT. Mrs. Hyker—My husband’s credi tors ought to he happy because of his bargain failure. Mrs. Pyker —Bargain failure! Mrs. Hyker— Yes. He's going to pay them all forty-nine cents on the dollar— Chicago News. WOMAN'S ENDURANCE. “Do you think a woman can endure more than a man?” she asked. “No,” ho replied. “How long could any woman endure it if she had to sit and hear her husband do all the talk- Ing?” —Chicago Record-Herald. AN EVEN BREAK. “Ye?,” said the actor, “they rode iw out of town on a rail; didn’t give us a show.” “And what was the reason?’ “I believe they claimed that wo did not give them a show.’ Houston Post. ISOLATED. It is fair to presume that (he wo men's federation does not advocate uplifting a husband by the hair of his head. —Chicago Tribune. Certainly not. ’Twould be entirely too transitory. This would soon be come a mere detached effort, iudiau apulis News. SURE SIGN. “Some new neighbors have moved iti next door to Crotchet’s.” “Yes, and I guess Crotchet doesn t like them.” “Why do you say that?” “I see he has finally agreed to buy for his daughter the piano she want ed.” —Philadelphia Press. THE WORLD S WAY “Who is * he man on hilltop" the fellow who climbed to fame and fortune.” “And who are the fellows at tbs foot of the hill? “Friends of his—waiting to see how undignified he'll look when he . -■ > down! “—Atlanta Constitution. WANTED A REAL ONE. It was (’holly de Nitwit who spoke, nervously tugging at the mole on his upper Hp the while. “I wish you to accept an apology. Miss Dolly,” he began. But the proud beauty interrupted. “Not if it's yourself you’re referring to," she said. He never finished. Cleveland Leader. HER WORD OF HONOR. “Don’t you love me?” “Yes, dear, hut I’m already en gaged.” “Bieak ycur engagement.” “Oh. George! That wouldn’t be hon orable. An engagement is a sacred thing, not lightly to be entered into or broken off. Besides •” “Well?” “Well, I’m engaged to two men, and that makes it even worse.” —Cleveland Leader. Flying fish of two distinct kinds are known to man—namely the flying gur nards and the flying-herrings.