Tensas gazette. [volume], April 10, 1908, Image 3

About Tensas gazette. [volume] (St. Joseph, La.) 1886-current

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Ballad of Pleasant Thoughts.
Don't let us talk of wretchedness.
Don't let us wallow in our woe,
.gu't let us drivel o'er dis're.s,
`"D't let us wander to and fro
6 Amid the mire and mud below,
But let us rise on joyful wings
anto the golden sunlight's glow;
Tat's think and talk of pleasant
things!
Don't let us clamor for redress:
Dce't let us deem a soul our foe;
sIstead of cursing, let us bless;
And never let us gloat or crow
o'er some one's trouble; let us
show
What perfect peace our viewpoint
brings
To all who after goodness go;
Lat's think and talk of pleasant
things'
Iet's talk of trouble less and less;
To sanger let us be more slow;
ft's strive more patience to possess.
And more compassionate let's
grow;
A cheerful word or smile bestow,
And you can quell the scorn that
stings;
This duty to ourselves we owe:
Lst's think and talk of pleasant
things!
ENVOI:
Ho! mortal men and women, ho!
Hark to the song a minstrel sings!
IU aught of happiness you'd know
Let's think and talk of pleasant
things!
Harold Susman in "Success Magazine."
A DWELLER IN
GLASS HOUSES
BY ALICS LOUISE LES,
Mrs. Drew sat at the head of her
breakfast table and pressed her lips
imly together. When Mrs. Drew
pressed her lips together things al
ways happened. "Mrs. White ought
So know." Mrs. Drew looked hard
at a newspaper opposite.
"Um-hum!" came a vague assent
from behind the paper barricade.
"If our son did a thing like 'hat,
I should thank some one to tell me,"
pursued Mrs. Drew.
"M'm-m!" still more vaguely from
the opposite side of the table, while
"oar son," aged ten, kept his eyes
deecrously on his plate, quite accus
"'Med to hearing his virtues referred
"An insult to the aged ought to be
severely punished," reasoned Mrs.
Drew. "Tommy White deserves a
Alipping that he will remember. I,
Iwr ae, believe that to spare the rod
I to spoil the child. If Mrs. White
hald more firmly to that opinion,
aa'd have boys who were not a dis
awe to the town."
Willie Drew, quite accustomed also
to hearing the si6s of his playmates
reviewed, still fastening his eyes on
lka plate, felt with his foot for the
at's tail under the table.
At the foot of the table Mr. Drew,
present in body but absent in mind,
aid, "Um-hum!" again, and began
likinag up the price of flour and ker
same. He knew that, despite his
wrWe's convictions on the subject of
ehild44lalng, the long whip-like
iaaches of the weeping willow in
their back yard remained intact,
whit a corresponding willow in Mrs.
Whitts yard, shorn oe much of its
gIsfnlneess, suggested the ravages of
mtei and the misdeeds of five rugged
"Whemever Willie needs a whip
ga rest assured he will get one,"
MIe. Drew often remarked emphati
'ally to friends-the emphasis being
1pqeully noticeable when Mrs.
'White was within hearing.
'I would tell her myself," continu.
S44 Ms. Drew, "were it not for the
bMt that she resented my reference
to the mischief Tommy did on Hal
bws'. It seems to me very strange
iat amy mother sbould resent being
WI of her children's faults when
X. hr their interest that ehe should
It . I'm sure that I should be glad
to be told it our Willie did wrong."
" Willi, having succeeded In locat
- A the vat's tall, clamped it vigor
my with his shoes while he reglrd
4 his mother with large, beguilldg
Th m was a momentary yawling
ad1 rambllng under the table, fol
iroed by a tiger-striped streak shoot
Shem beneath Willie's chair into
Salsttling-lroom. "Dear me!" cried
Wa. Drew, in alarm. "That's the
55ad time within three days that
h' has had a fit. She's such a
1tty cat I hate to lose her, .oo.
"at as I was saying," she continu
4 "I1 made up my mind then that
it wa the last time I would try to
4 Mrs. White with those boys of
ans. Still she ought to be told of
4h. Therefore I shall send for Anne
S' ." Her lips tightened on the
"Asee Tupper?" inquired Mr
8-. w's lips, while his eyes rove!
eNr the political reports.
*ter was a slight change in the
'iol of Willie's blue eyes as
S followed Tabby.
.T, I think I can prevail on Anne
Stel her. Every one likes Anne,
laeially Mrs. Whlte. She'll take
'ta Arn Anne."
O. aquhetly Anne was sent for by
St of Willie. Willie went reluctant
*, He whimknpered and whined. He
. flat into one eye--keeping ths
lanocent blue orb fixed on Mrs.
i "d pleaded a stomachache.
S"lP child!" said his mother. "Of
se you needn't go, then. I'l step
" ,  ~ and ask Tommy to take the
_t Lia Willie looked alarmed, rand
his mother took down a bottle
the top shelf of the pantry and
-I ked for a spoon, Willie recovered
& twinkle, scudding away with the
lbertfore the bottle could be ua
m other looked after him with
-ll dtent emile. "Boys will be
"she munmured.
lshe set hrd well-appoltte·d
it order ad awaited Aaa*
ir la pressd Irmly togath'
er. From the front window she v!ew.
ed the five White boys playing soldie'r
!a their front yar I. They were rant
Sf;n step's In the order of age,
twco years" s .,e betwecn succeeding
ste:s.-s-n-i were exercising legs and
lun;s vi;orously.
"O that Tommy!" cried Mrs. Drew,
indignantly, aloud. "It seems as
though Mrs. White might realize how
he acts!"
Tommy, exercising his prerogative
as general, had kicked the second in
command, who promptly kicked back
again, whereupon the march turned
into a riot, in which Tommy, beset
by the rest of the army, got worsted.
"And yet there sits Mrs. White,
looking out of the window placidly
and doing nothing!" ejaculated Mrs.
Drew, still more indignantly. "I
never saw any one so slack with chil
dren. 'Now if Willie-"
The entrance of Anne cut the sent
ence short, and Mrs. Drew rose to
meet her.
Mrs. Drew was the kindest of
neighbors-except where Mrs. White
was concerned. She did not mean
to be unkind to Mrs. White. She
had simply fallen into the habit of
comparing her one blue-eyed, perfec:
Willie with the five imperfect boys
across the street-especially Tommy
who was of Willie's dge.
"Of course." she often declared,
"Wi!l!e has his faults!" She said it
complacently, but with mental reser
vations-the rest of the town said
the same with neither placidity nor
mental reservation.
"I felt sure you'd come!" was Mrs.
Drew's greeting. "I never knew you
to fail a friend."
A pleased expression crept into An.
ne's eyes as she sat down. Along
with the rest of girl-kind, Anne like.l
praise.
Mrs. Drew seated herself, and fold
ing her hands, looked at her guest.
Then she uttered an exclamation and
leaned forward. "What a becoming
new coat, Anne! I've not seen it be
fore. I like those stitched bands
down the front. Certainly brown is
your color."
The pleased expression in Anne's
eyes deepened. "I like it myself."
she answered, briefly. Anne's remarks
were generally brief.
In church work Mrs. Drew was
made chairman of everything, be
cause of what she could accomplish
through her committees. She had a
tactfully compelling way-so her
friends said. Others who were not
so friendly said she could "wind peo
ple up" skilfully.
Be that as it may, she proceeded
succinctly to lay the case before An.
ne, beginning with the generally bad
behavior of the five junior Whites.
Anne listened attentively. That was
Anne's greatest charm. Willie, sit
ting behind his mother, also listened
attentively, motioning beguilingly at
Tabby meanwhile.
Narrowing her remarks down to
particular misdeeds, Mrs. Drew re
ferred to the "doings" on Hallowe'en,
especially the destruction of the pic
ket fence in front of old Mrs. Smith's
house.
"You know Tommy was in that,"
she ended, "and I took it on myself
to tell Mrs. White. She didn't thank
me for it, and I made up my mind
then that no matter what that Tom
my did, I would say nothing further.
But this thing, Anne, she ought to
know."
Anne, realizing now the purport of
her summons to the Drew house,
moved uneasily, and began pleating
her handkerchief. Willte, with Tab
by almost within reach, neglected his
opportunity, and pricked up his ears.
"What thing?"
Mrs. Drew sat up straight and tap
ped the arm of her chair impressive
ly. "There was a lady in here yes.
terday,-I name no names, Anne, as
I am careful not to cause hard feel
ings between friends,-but she told
me, and I said at once, 'Mrs. White
ought to know.'
"Know what.' Blked Anne again,
smoothing out her handkerchief.
Mrs. Drew tapped the arm of the
chair. "I was told that Tommy White
deliberately walked up behind old Mr.
Reffert-poor old, half-blind man that
he is!--and knocked his hat into the
ditch and ran away!"
"Oh!" cried Anne. "Oh!" She
lifted wide eyes to her hostess's
face.
"I knew, Anne," said Mrs. Drew, in
a tone of quiet triumph, "that you
would be shocked."
"Yes!" breathed Anne. "Oh, yes!"
Willie, aiming a kick at the cat,
fell off his chair at this juncture, and
so made hfs presence conspicuous.
His mother, out of consideration for
Anne's feelings, sent him out to play.
"Of course," she remarked, "you
would not like Wllie to know what I
am going to ask of you, although he
never repeats what he hears."
"Indeed!" murmured Anne.
Mrs. Drew returned to the original
subject. "Shouldn't you think, Anne,
that any mother would be glad to be
told if her boy did such a thing as
that?"
"Indeed," assented Anne, "I
should!" Into her eyes, fastened now
on Mrs. Drew's face, crept an expres
sion of relief.
"And don't you think that such an
attack on a old man deserves a se
vere punishment '
"Yes," assented Anne, earnestly, "I
do."
"My dear," Mrs. Drew ceased tap
ping on the arm of the chair and
sank back with the air of having set
tied a vexed question, "I am glad
you agree, because I am going to ask
you to tell Mrs. White." Anne put
out a band suddenly, dropped her
handkerchief, and reached for it.
"You. girl that you are, can tell her
without offense, because she likes
you. Every one likes you, Anne-"
"But, Mrs. Drew," Anne burst out,
"whoever told you didn't tell straight.
It-it wasn't Tomnmy! It-I was right
behind them-it was Willie who did
it!"
Mrs. Drew gasped once-twice
caught her breath and sat up very
stiff.
"Willi'!"
"Yes," Anne hastened on, the words
tumbling out of her mouth. "I al
most caught him. I-I th/nk I should
have slaken him well if I had!" her
tone became reniniscently lidignant.
·I did shake him on Hallowe'ea.
Tommy did help take Mrs. Utit&'s
tence down.-I was staying with net
Sbat night because she was afraid.
3ut Willie was the lea.l-r. 1 cau;ht
him and boxed his ear3."
"Bofxed hIs ears!"
"Yes!" cried Anne. all un- be-rvant
cf the expression back of the wor,s
"Willie is awfully naughty when he's
out of your sight, and to think I never
dared tell you," her face was filled
with inoredulity, "when here you were
really wanting to know all the time!"
Anne rose, still unobservantly re
lieved and happy. It was often so
hard to be a truthful confidante, and
this time the path of truth had been
made so easy for her!
She left a dazed Mrs. Drew strugg
ling with her breath and her thoughts.
.irs. Drew believed Anne-every cne
d4d; and the memory of her own
wide-spread comparisons between
Willie and Tommy rushed upon her
with overwhelming force.
For half an hour after Anne's de
,parture she wrestled with her morti
fication. Then she turned her atten
tion to Willie.
With lips pressed firmly together.
she visited the flourishing willow in
the back yard. Sternly she laid aside
the natural desire to select a tiny
branch. Sternly she held herself to
what she required of M-rs. White, and
a few moments later, armed with a
tingling switch, she stood in the back
door and called loudly, "William!
William Drew! Come here at once!"
-From Youth's Companion.
L'ISLE DES CHIENS. '
The Dogs' Cemetery at Asniere Out
side Paris.
"Man cher petit Jack je no t'oublier
als Jamals." Cut in golden letters
upon a massive granite slab these
words do not describe the condition
of a broken-hearted mother. The in
consolable lady mourns her dog whose
portrait hangs above the tomb upon
which reposes a wreath of purp:e
head violets.
The laws of France are severe;
there can be no trifling with the
body of a dead dog, he must be buried
somewhere. On no . account must
the corpse pollute the waters of the
Seine-men are stationed night and
day on some of the quays to watch
that no unlawful parcels are consign
ed to its depths.
Many people in Paris live in fiats
and it became a custom when the
pet dog died to make a cemetery of
the Seine, or even of the main sewer,
while it was no uncommon thing to
see poor Fifine's remains reposing
in the gutter awaiting the arrival of
the scavenger. People with a house
and no garden were known to bury
their pets in the cellar in defiance
of the laws of hygiene. But now all
this is changed. About nine years
ago an animal cemetery was formed
on business lines and it is now in
a flourishing condition.
L'Isle des Chiens at Asniere, be
yond the northern ramparts of Paris,
was originally a boggy piece of land.
In former days only a narrow neck
of land connected it with the Seine
and it was then a haunt of holligans
and others wishing for a retired life
free from the attentions of the po
lice. L'Isle des Ravageurs was its
sinister and well-deserved name. A
smiling garden has now taken the
place of the wildern-ss of brickbats
and broken bottles. Shady paths
lead- to secluded nooks, the flower
beds in summer are a blaze of color
and a fountain in the centre mingles
the sound of its falling waters with
the songs of the birds.
Everywhere there are memorials of
departed pets. From an ornate Jap
anese pagoda in stone with a rusty
chain and collar attached to t'.e door
post, to a humble piece of wood with
only a number or a single name
upon it, they are there by hundreds.
Some of them are very elaborate.
Follette has a small stone house with
all the blinds down, "Je to regret
terais toujours," says her dlsoonsol
ate mistress. Caro rests under a
huge block of granite; to judge from
his portrait in a glass case at the
head of his grave he was a thorough
mongrel from the point of view. of
breed.
"Adieu mon petit wow wow," says
Tiny's owner, while Sultan has a son
net all to himself, and Poull an acros
tic in somewhat halting verse. A
large gilt crown and monogram adorn
the stone above another Miss. Her
aristocratic owner saysr "Elle talt
toute ma vie." On many of the graves
ar ehung wreaths of dead flowers or
bunches of fresh Bowers and leaves.
The attendant said that some ladies
came regularly once a week with flow
ers. In one case a substantial sum
was left for a wreath to be hung
every week upon the grave of a dog
which, acoording to the inscription on
the atone, had saved his mistress's
child from drowning fifteen years
ago. The number of English names
upon the graves is striking. I think
I counted nine Misses, seven Jacks
an.d tIr Bos.
Burial in the cemetery is within the
means of all. For five francs a dog
can be buried in the fosse commune
-common grave. The lease of a
grave for three years can be bought
for 15 francs, and so on up to 100
francs for a thirty years' lease.
One of the rules says that all re
lgious emblems and anything re
semblling human graves is strictly
forbidden. At one corner of the
cemetery there is a stonemason's
yard, where monuments may be in
spected and designs obtained.
There is a corner for the burial of
cats, but poor paussy, as a rule, only
has a china effigy sitting in her lit
tle "garden," this being presumably
considered suffiacient monument. A
pathetic little gilt cage hung above
the grave of a canary, and a fear
some photograph at the head of one
grave showed that a monkey of ap
palling hideousness reposed beneath
-London Daily News.
Feather bed Maker.
Mrs. msan Merrill of Euast Edding
ton, Maine, has supported herself for
10 years and sent her two boys
through college by making feather
beds of real goose down and selling
them in New ngland.
An average yield of ginger in Je
males I about 2,N pnoeands a ma
I tine ooMer.,
ed
re In every city of any considerable
,,, size the roomer is every seventh or
re eighth man or woman you meet. He
so may be a day laborer or a city edi
nd tor, but he represents the ambition,
en hopefulness, lindividuallvm, energy,
and persistence of the younger pro
ductive ranks of mercantile and me
chanic employees. With 90,000 room
era in Boston, one for every 723 in
Chicago, one for every 463 In St.
en Louis, and before the earthquake one
e for every 233 persons in San Fran
cisco, what the rooming-house resem.
'bles is an interesting topic for discus
sion.
Professor Albert B. Wolfe, of Ob
erlin Oollege, accordingly outlines
,r the roomer's problem in Charities
in and the Commons for November 2.
e The growth of cities and the move
y ments of population within the same
to city explain the rooming-house dis
d tricts in our cities. The roomers have
a come to the city for employment, and
ck the "landladies," for the most part,
, widows thrown on their own re
!" sources, who turn to the roomer as a
last resort. Old four-story family
residences are rented,-in New York
'"brownstone fronts," in Boston "swell
fronts," in St. Louis old style South
it- ern mansions, which have been va
cated through business changes or
sr- the fickleness of residential fashion.
rs At one time nearly all roomers were
se boarders. To-day the boarding-housean
>n has largely disappeared. The ef- I
n fects of this transition are deplor d
se ble.
The reader must not fall to under
stand the difference between the
rooming-house and the boarding.
house. The boarder sleeps and eats
in the same house; the roomer takes
his meals at a restaurant. Twenty
years ago two-fifths of the "boarders
and lodgers" enumerated in the cen
sus of Boston were boarders. In
1895 less than one-fifth (17.4 per
n- cent.), were boarders. The percent
age of lodgers increased from 60.4 in
is 1885 to 82.6 in 1895. The further in
e crease which has undoubtedly taken
place since 1895 has virtually wiped
r, out the boarding-house. This is true
to not only of Boston but of several
fg other Massachusetts towns. Statis
tics are lacking for cities outside
se Massaohusetts, but the probabilities
-y are that the rooming-house is every
:e where displacing the old-time board
LI ing-house. The causes of this lie in
rs the compettlion of the cafes and
I "dining-rooms," the fact that it takes
n less business ability to manage a
rooming-house than a boarding-house,
e- and most of all, that the rooming and
"s, cafe habit of life offers much more
d. freedom than did the boarding-house.
In the latter one must be on time for
1e meals and must pay whether he eats
is or not. Moreover, lax as were board
fe ing-house conventionalities, they at
4> forded far more restraints than can
be found in the rooming-house. A
A boarding-house without a public par
ie lor would be an anomaly, while a
rooming-house with one is a rarity.
With the passing of the boarding
ar house went the last vestige of
or "home" life, for a boarding-house
s without a public parlor would be an
th anomaly, while a rooming-house with
one is a rarity. The cmmon table
of with its friendly, if aimless, prattle
'p being removed, the isolation of the
ty roomer followed, which is a real so
r cial problem. He knows few people.
th and these not intimately. He rarely
se enters a family circle, and becomes a
more or less nomadic character,-es
e sentially a floater. The absence of
th the public parlor is responsible for
Sdamming the well-springs of healthy,
1- social intercourse, and for throwing
a the lodger upon his own resources. A
m girl receives her visitors,-men and
le women,--either in her room or in the
h street,-the moral effect of which can
of easily be deduced.
Landmiladies cannot afford a parior,
Sand this is the basils of this draw
- back. The moral reeuts of such
a situation, the writer believes, are
a peculiar attitude of mind toward
er marriage and family; temporary
t unions and prosttution as substitutes;
poignant loneliness; a blind, self-seek.
tag ndividualsmn striking at altruistic
Simpules and moulding existence too
closely on lines of t.e competitve
busines world. They have no ub
stitute for home life, no opportunity
for real recreation or cultural assamo
clatloo, and are exposed to conditions
Swhich would try the most stable
Smoral oesoiousnmess.
rs The whole situation should be much
more thoroughly studied than it has
been Ls yet Pubie tatistic
lr ther details of the
r o distr'ts. Public opin
ie on should be rouqd. The gamer
must be given a social anchorage;
the furniture sharks that prey upon
the landlady should receive attention.
ht The conneoticon between lodging and
Sprosetitution should be studied more
carefully. A public parlor should be
demanded, even if it be made a pre
requisite Lfr a rooming-house license.
ly The boarding-house should be brought
he back, and the cafe life resisted In
s every possible way. Fundamentally,
n-at the bottom of these things are, of
course, better education and better
4 wages.
ly In the same magazine Eleanor IH.
t- Woods, of South End House, Boston,
ly writes interestingly of the humanl
A taran eforts of certain movements
in Boston for the social betterment
in Its lodging districts. A room reg
SIstry organized at South End House
three years ago for the assistance of
Sptatms seekng rooman ad to stimua
late business methods among the
hoamekeepers has attained a reason
ablie degree of success. A eard cats
logae of 150 houses is on lie, co
g. tamings isOrmailon as to location,
or price, qmality, etc. A earge of 10
e cats is impossd for a list of aval
er able dLag-bouses and a postal to
t be ued i a ree msm tis eered by the
appet Hlsekepers armu e charged
onehaif a weks rent tor a. tensat
rs t three wmes; herwls, 10 pe
Ssent. The miag1mas arm ag
hlzed carefully and disreputable pes
:)le ejected. This registry serves
as a source of information to patrons
of the South End district, and labors
for elesnliness and morality.
This writer advances hopefully a
for business women, something on
the plan of a private house accommo
dating twelve or fifteen, with two or
three for household work. An experi
r ment on this line worked successfully
in Boston, and for women no longer
In the youngest tasks the writer be
I eves such a household would prove
a strong attraction, and she advo
cates a series of houses so organized,
under one general management. Free
from domestic restrictions, and with
relative home surroundings, such
houses would prove superior to the
s general run of lOdginbouses, and
would obviate the los which women
feel when "housed In caravansaries
where social responsibilities are dis
couraged by the constant experience
of being thrown with so many whom
it is Impossible to know, and yet in
whose company all the significant
home functions are daily practiced.
From the American Review of Bo
s views.
a DRUDGE AND DRONE.
How the American Woman Is Man's
Chiefest Blessing.
L As a teaser of the public John Cor
V bin becomes daily more virulent. He
r harried Harvard University not long
1 since, and thereby accumulated such,
quantities of abuse and derision that
he longed for more. Now he is pitch
ring into the "American Drone," by
which pleasing epithet he designates
e the American woman. This will yield
lots of fun for John Corbin-Indeed,
infinitely more fun than sticking pins
into Harvard men, who were few and
far between, whereas American wom
en, especially at this season of
shopping, are more numerous than
the sands of the sea. Besides, they
Sassay high as regards ginger.
Still I am confident that a Corbin
will contrive to cope with them. He
will readily reply, being so logical
himself, to their feebly reasoned pro
tests. Separated only by eight and a
half inches of text in his little trea
tise stand two sentences that serve
as emblems of his adherence to con
sistency. One reads: "She has
1 achieved a new, a glorious, a hitherto
i unattainable ideal-that of lifelong
comradeship with man." The other
declares: "She has been unable to
establish any enduring comradeship
with her own menfolk." Let the wom
en of America think twice before
tackling a reasoner like Corbin.
The clerk values his existence too
preciously to venture beyond the out
er skirmishing lines of this exhilarat
Ing and altogether ennobliig little
row. I daresay there's somewhat to
be said on both sides. So, without
j joining the colors of either foe, I con
tent myself with a comment upon the
American Drone, considered as the
chiefest blessing of the American
s Drudge. Maybe it's fine, theoretical
ly, for a -wife to slave all day, say
- ag or earning. Maybe it's theoreti
cally refreshing for a fellow to come
home tired out to a woman equally
tired out. Practically it's no such
thing.
;Notice, I'm not eulogizing feminine
idleness. Mr. Corbin's Drone keeps
t busy enough by his own account of
her. But her pursuits aren't those
that fag. After a day of exasperation,
which has torn a man pretty well to
pieces, he meets a comrade still
blithe and buoyant and zestful. Ten
minutes in her company will recrult
his vigor, dismiss his anxieties, re
fresh his soul. By not working she
enables him to work without breaking
a Her duty-if not her first duty, cer
tainly almost that-is to keep herself
strong and unfatligued against his
hours of exhaustion. Perhaps Mr.
r Corbin will say that euch an arrange
ment makes the hueband work unduly
Shard. What of it? He enjoys work
ing unduly hard if a new life begins
for him every evening--a life at once
retful and stimulating-in the com
psalonship of his best of friends.
Boston Transcript.
r- CEYLON HAVING A BOOM.
e Trade Outlook the Best Ever Known
d in the History of the Island.
y Ceylon as a whole is experiencing
; a period ot exceptional prosperity
c- and-the trade outlook is the best ever
c known in the history of the island.
o Tea, cocoannuts, cacao, cardamomns and
elcitronell are paying well, and rub.
hber and camphor are still more pro
y Sitable.
SThere has been a continued boom
Sin rubber planting, which now occ
e pies about 115,000 acres, while tea
has had a revival and high prices are
h now being realized. Camphor prices
Is are very high and the cultivation has
e  acres U·der thi pr¶lUd.
2 A tr~ portaticn (uestiog t t 6.
r been agltted in Ceylon for a long
while, and that is now being brought
n actively to the front again, is that of
Sconnecting Ceylon to India by a rail
d road across Adams Bridge and the
, shallow bodies of water lying be
e tween Ramerwaram and Tallaimanna
. at the northern end of the island.
r The South Indian Rallway Com
it pany are bringing their line to the
Sextreme point of the small island of
REmeswaram so that only a small
Sgap of water will intervene between
Sthe termini of the Indian and Ceyloo
railways.
L If the connection is made at all II
will make Colombo the port for south
1ern India, and will greatly benefit the
Stea and rubber industries by facilitat
lt ig the transportation of laboremrs
from India.-From the Journal of the
SAmerican Asiatic Association.
a- An Acquired Characteristi.
ie "Heredity," the boarder with the
a- rubicund countenance was saying,
'a "coounts for nearly everything. Fm
I' instace, I Ainherited my eyes aa
I, the color o my hair ftem my moth
Sew's people, my china and nose trom
I- my father's side of the house, sad
* "Yeu dida't inherit that mos teom
Sanybody," aterrupted the boardw
w with the allow cempleulsm. "Yes
t bIeegt it at vassloe gibos si thIl
s liwn sad -al high gsie ir L
IstheChllnaman
"Fittest" to
Survive Us 811g?
A conspicuous factor in the battle a
of life is omnivorousness, or dives- c
ity of teeding. That animal which I
has but a single plant, for instance, 1
which it can use for food may be t
annihilated by a frost or grub or any a
other cause which would remove that Il
plant for a single season. That b
which feeds Indiseriminately on all e
plants will fnd abundant sustenance
under more adverse circumstances. I
That whose stomach receives vege- L
table or animal food with equal favor v
has a stilj better chance of surviv- l
lug; and that which can catch the t
most various sorts of prey is more
apt to have prey always at its eom- I
mand than that whose powers in U
the chase, whose courage or whose a
strength can overtake or overcome I
only the most slow-moving or weak- t
est animals. Man, the most perfect t
of animals, and the one who In the d
present conditions of the earth eould I
survive all others, has attained to his C
position of mastery largely because
he is, of all animals, the most omni
Svorous.
Of all the varieties of man the I
Asiatic, and especially the Chinaman, "
is most diverse in his food. All is r
meet to him-animal or vegetable, 7
in the air, on the earth or in the f
waters under the earth. He can gorge
himself with joy on the abundant I
meat diet of the Englishman; he c '
dine comfortably and happily upon a
brace of mice, or eke out life for
weeks upon a few handfuls of rice.
And all the time he can work with- I
uat ceasing. He can pack more of t
his kind upon an acre of ground than e
any New York tenement life can C
show, and live there in what he re- 1
gards as tolerable co.afort. In this I
he has precisely the same advantage
over the white man as the European '
had over the original inhabitants of I
this country and as the Englishman
had over the natives of Australia.
It is really, therefore, those char
acteristles of the Asiatic which we
most despise and which we regard
as constituting his inferiority to oun
selves-his miserable little figure, his °
pinched and wretched way of livitng,
his slavlsh and tireless industry, his t
indifference to high and codtly pleas
ures which our habit of generations
almost makes necessiktes, his capse
ity to live in swarms in wretched a
dens where the white man would rot
if he did not suffocate-all these
make him a most formidable rival for i
ultimate survival as the fittest not
only in America but wherever he may
gain a foothold.
Our ancestors emerged from the
broad and roomy environment of pas
toral and savage life only a few cen
turies ago, and our lifesustaining fac
ulties represent what has been stored
up by heredity in the period which 1
has since elaped. The Eastern Asia- 1
tie emerged from those conditions at '
a period so remote that no human
record or tradition can be found so
old as to refer to a time when China
and India were not too populous for
the conditions of savage life. The 1
accumulated experience of countless t
ages is therefore stored up in the c
Asiastic's food-getting and food-sav d
ing capacigt, and those ages properly
and fairly represent his superiority ]
over us In the battle for the survival
of the fittest, it that battle is to be
fought in a fair  with no favor,
in open and ,ndisbd competition.
Another advantage in the battle of '
life which the (Chlasman enjoys, al. C
thoemh it is one with whirch the path
ologt rather than the political econ- a
omist ebould be familiar, is his im
mulnity from diseases whieh prey up- 4
on the Western races. His clvillsra
tion is so old that be has probably
eliminated a thousand varietie of his I
own race which were susceptible to t
these diseases and has at last develop I
ed a typ more or less immune. le K
can appaently livre ia tolerable health
and comfort in the midst of filth i
which would breed a desolating pest i
leaen among Western people. He has a
had time to undergo every experience I
of which the human animal Is capable, I
I to adjust himself to it and regard it, i
howsoever abhorrent it misht be to I
Europeans, with Indlfference.-Michc
eel J. Dee in the Pacifie Era.
DESERT LIF.
Heow Animals and Vegetation Are Pro.
tooted Against ExtinctIo.
Almost all life on the desert goes
inumberless species. (ley e (
ai·ed with lons or short tonuh t
spines that can penatrate the thick. -
I eat boot. The solitary and often gro
tesque "Joshua" or Yucca, the eus- *
Squite, the catsclaw and numberless
shrubs whose names have not been
Swritten,-all are armed in one way or i
another. Some exude polseonus sap,
others nasuseatig odors. The sase
Sbrush is about the only one ttst doe
Snot seem to have any protecton. 1
In the anlmal klingdom moat are
Seither armed with sharp teeth, spines,
Sodors or poieon to serve to keep their
enemie at a dLstance, while the oth
rem depend upon their soetness or
artVtl skltns and hidits.
STh spined and repulnsivre ala mon- I
ser. the horned toad, the sdewInder, 1
with his two bhorn aerd deadly fangs, 1
s ad its comda, the deet ranttleseae;
the tarnatula, aeorpion sad desert
bee, each of whose sting is exceed
tigly painful and sometime tfatal,
are amoass the desert's deaizeas. Thee
Sthere are may vartsttM of lisards,
L lanrie and wmall and of mazy colors,
who protect themselves by their
speed alone. The prowlinlg eoote,
behest, mountain lion, achrabbit, eot
tentall, mouantain sheep, ibex, bte
Iepe and an occasionoal deer are theseg
Among the smaller aaimas are the
gopher, kangaroo ret, trade rat, hydre
phoia skant, snrusd seuirrm and s n
salmersab e mice But the tmrveler
SAm see any of these. The ps
" gear, hoverr, sos beein7 se
quanited with them. The arse or
at the latest, second nlght of his
stay in any one camp, he will be vias
Ited by a trade rat, who will carry
away all that portion of his outAt
that is not too heavy for his ratship
to handle and religionuly leave some
stick or stone in its place.
A hydrophobia skunk will be apt
to call and lunch from any bacof
rinds that may be lying about, net
disdainin a sip at Mr. Prospector's
1 nose if the opportunity ofers. It is
Ie said and firmly believed by the sons
s- of the desert that the bite of this
h little skunk produces hpirophobls.
s, The Gila monster is seldom seen, and
e the writer after having spent nearly
y a year an the borders of Death Vat
it ley has yet to see one of them at
it large. Rattlesnahes are also scarce,
11 except in some favorable locality.
* The moustain sheep and ibex are
. gradually beomng tame, and this
s season they have come to springs
c where miners were camped as regu
r- larly as domestic stock and with lit
e tie more timidity. The mountain quail
e tollows the miner and his burro. In
s. the Avawats Mountains they were
n unknown until this year, but they
* are abundant there now. It is jn un
oe written law among the miners on
t. the desert that no game animals or
:t birds shall be killed or in any way
1e disturbed unless one is in actual want,
id aid he must make proof convincing
I oaf that fact If he kills a quail or
a sheep.
1. All life on the desert live by its
power to resist thirst. All deret
ie p'snts are so constructed that they
n, re able to conserve and store up
is moisture aglrisil the time of drought.
e, This Necessity has wrought peculiar
1e forms of both animals and plants, and
Ie in time it also leaves Its indelible
at mark upon men who dwell am!d its
D wastes. The leaves of all desert trees
a :.re small and thick, so that they
)r expose as little surface as possible
e. for evaporation in the dry air. The
h great and ever present evidence of
tf the struggle for water is noticeable
a everywhere where men come together
n on the desert. In this struggle all
e. who come to the desert must engage
is Instantly. Every wagon must have
its water barrels, every burro his
n water bags, each man his canteen.
g Los Angeles Times.
How Harvard Yard Was Named.
. President Eliot told bow it hap.
, pened to be the "Harvard Yard."
d "The origin of the name 'Harvard
Yard'," he said, "appears in a sketch
of 1795 by a sophomore. Joseph Story
a Justice of the Supreme Court of
the United 8tates at the age of 32
and one time professor at the Harvard
law school. The sketch was turned
in as an exercise by Story. It got
abroad in some manner and was
there for many years until a family
who inherited it returned It recent.
,ly to this country. The sketch shows
t plainly that what is now such a
charming spot was then just a back
yard and nothing more.
"It was unlighted, so that except
w when there wau a moon it was dark
as pitch. Its quality of darkness was
v valued by the students as giving an
d opportunity to disregard college regu
:h lations and to indulge In some prae
a- tices which the faculty viewed .As
it nawarranted.
a "It was the resort in those days,
w especlally in the early forenoon and
L the late afternoon, of a crowd of
n young children sent from home to
is buy hot rolls and fresh bread from '
I the baker's shop which occupied the
a corner rooms in University Hall, now
. devoted to ofices for the dea of the
y Lawrence scientific school."-Bostoq
y Herald.
Correcting a CorreCtion.
In our correction last week of the
Sshotgun episode article we made a
Smistakhe which nscesaltates another
Scorrectioa. William Behmldt is one
. of our best citisens and does n use
a. a shot~an to chase people either in
a.or out of a house. We rather look
. ed for tim to bring a ptling gun
. down to the Bee Otce after read
ly ing our article last week. In the
i harry of getting copy ready we wrte
a the name of William BSchmapt, when
p it should have been Henry. Henry
[e not Bill-ts the shot~aun man that
:h chased a woman "into" aot "out" of
h her house. Another time we stand
. corrected. We hope this article is
t all straighrt-that all names are right
e and spelled riglht. That we haven't
e, used out for in or in for out or up
t, for down. If we were runting a daily
to i wouldn't be so bad, for we could
) correct the mistake sooner, but to
wait a week and have that suspens
hanging over one, like a sword hang
ing by a thread, that's whbt's putting
the gray hairs In the Old Man's head
- -Powhatan Bee.
SRests OGun Across Arm. $
SCourt of nina Chinamen rwith
h the murer of one of their country
k- me,- and that is no Chinaman when
odaslng a revolver levels it straight
Sat a peron or st an obect, bt rests
5 the mussle of the "gun" on his left
S forearm, and with the right hand
Sholding the butt discharges the weap
P, on.
SCounsel wanted an explanstion, but
s could not obtain it, and later a mem
ber of one of the tonrs in the cor
r rider was asked for a reason.
0. "Don't know why a gun is used
Jrain that amaner," was the respone,
h "anless it lnsures more secreey tian
r the Americae way. For tnstance, a
Chinanmn may wrap the gun in the
a- fids of his sleeve, learing only the
r. barrel hole free. Then a shot may
i be lred, when it would apper as
s; thoush the one who disdhargaed the
rt weapon bad his arms folded. There
d would be no gliUnt of steel and noth
rl, ag bat a carl of smobs to tell who
s dischargla the weapee." - Boston
Is, Herald.
S Enemies of Rubber Tires.
Rubber tires have three natural
enemies that are destrucotive to rub
betr, light, heat and oil, and each has
its own peculiar elect, which sheauld
be guarded against.
ler The Departmeant of Health of New
a Y4ok city is worklag with a new
a serum for the_ eare of te.s
0