The Richmond Virginian., February 03, 1910, Page 8, Image 8

About The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920

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THE COST OF LIVING
By FREDERIC J. HASKIN.
(Special to The Richmond Virginian.) I
It is claimed that the world's high
water mark in the cost of living has i
been reached. The price of everything, j
from the flannels in which the new i
born babe is wrapped to the coffin in ;
which (he aged man is laid to rest, has ,
.dim bed to an unprecedented height. !
The whole world is trying t<> ascertain .
the cause, but every man denies re- :
sponsibility. There are so many twists
end turn* in the path that leads from
production to consumption thnt it 1*
difficult to fix responsibility, hut every j
American consumer has turned detec- i
live and the search lor the guilty ones '
Is on.
Fortunately there are a number of i
rlues which suggest where to look for j
the trouble. First of all It Is found
that the Income of the average Amert- ]
. ran family Is $600 a year, of which j
about $2*0 goes for food and drink. As
there are some 19.0(10.000 families In the
United States, this means that the na
tion’s food bill is about $4.500,000.000 ft
year. Of this one-third goes for the i
purchase of meats The American peo
ple are now eating about twenty :
billions of meat a year, and for every
—•—oar.t 1 lo-t is. added to tile pound cost of .
that meat the consumer has to bear an
additional burden of two hundred mil- :
lion dollars A siintln.r raise In the ‘
price or other foodstuffs would mean
ft total trier, a*‘ of about $600,000,000
n Vfnr ir. Ihr Kurd, 1 . of tin, entlanmer
fat food atom Therefore, K I* plain
that tin* IncfViisi m prices Is a ease of
grand larcrny and not of petit larceny. ,
Beef Question Old.
Irt following cut i lit s the price of
beef ciain » first attention. It is not
a new subji ■ t. More than fifty years
ago people were asking why there was :
such a great margin between live cat- •
tie and a steak or roast. To settle the
matter the American Agriculturalist, of |
New York, followed an average sized
bullock through the shambles and on
to the man who bought steak and the
• _ roast. It was found that the dressed
beet cost upward of 10 cents a pound -
which is at least 50 per cent more than
the average retailer pays to-day. Yet
when the man with the market basket i
came in he got his cut of porterhouse ;
for 17 cents a pound and his round !
stehk for less than 12 cents Many .
retailers who pay 8 cents for a carcass j
to-day sell the porterhouse at 25 cents
and the round -teak at 18.
Following n Beef.
In this year of grace 1910 another •
bullock was followed through the i
shamble* to the price fixing of the re- !
tail cutter. Cattle quotations show
that in the Chicago market for the \
week • riaisg January 15 (lie avi-rage ,
pries- on the hoof was 6.55 cents a
pound A Ht. i.nui* butcher bought the ;
carcass of an average steer for 8 cents
a pound, and in order to disprove the
conclusions of Secretary Wilson pub
-Uabcd a detailed account of how he
cut it up and sold it. It weight*! 509
pounds and cost him $40. He sold the
porterhouse steaks at 20 cents, sirloin*
and prune rlU at 17 1-2 taints, round
•teak at 12 1-2 cents, and other cuts
proportionately. lfe rex-aivod 151.85 !
for It at retail.
5. The only trouble scents to be that he!
placed bis pri<«s at retail too low. !
. Most pcnpli pay 25 rents for porter- i
house. 20 cents for sirloin and rib. and ]
lx cents for round, with the other cuts :
In proportion. On this basis be would j
•ell $62.24 worth of beef from the car- '
cuss—a gross profit of over 55 per cent, j
Mark you, this with no change In his
figure* other than to increase -his re
Hal quotation* to what the average'
American is now paying at the butcher
shop.
R»t»iler»' Profit.
One is not entirely dependent on
Secretary Wilson's figures, or upon
those of the ist. Louis butcher, to show
the gross profits of the retailer. The
butchers have trxt books and they
offer further corroboration. One of
these is "The Modern Butcher," and
the author, a meat cutter of thirty
years experience, show* how a car
cass must be cut up and priced at re
tail in order to yield this profit of 20
per cent. In an s-cent carcass, to yield
this profit, the porterhouse and sirloin
must be retailed at 17 cents and the
round steak at 13 cents In a 8-cent
carcass the former must be sold at
18 cents and the latter at 15. with the
other cuts in proportion. Let the read -
er netnpure these prices with those he
pays and figure out his percentage*.
What obtains in beef prices is true
of Other meats. Chicken* that *e!l
for twelve cents a pound 150 miles '
from Washington, bring twenty-two j
cents when they reach there. A young
cents when they reach there. A young
man residing in Washington is part I
owner of a farm in Virginia, within
*"•< itMiT-o 'it u" .«auuimi *
relates that wh«4n the corner grocer j
•*11* indifferent egfcs at forty cents
a dozen, tho«e on is farm are bring
ing thirty cents When apples sell at
a dollar a bushel on the farm, the
TASTY DISHES FOB MEATLESS MEALS
At a recent luncheon where meat
was eliminateti and the hostess served
from the table instead of a la Ilunae,
the menu was so delightful and
charmingly served that ] am glad to
leans it along tor others who possess
less fertile ideas for tasty food com
bination*
The table centrepiece was a Japan
ese vase in imitation of live tied in
the water. it rested on a bed of
amllatt. In its opened mouth was
a tiny bit of green and from the
opening on Its bark were more feath
ery green, and pink and white sw-eet
peas The service plates were Doul
ton ware, as also the long platter,
decorated appropriately.
In the ci ntre of the long platter
rested a thie^i centre cut of boiled
cod, dressed with lemon and mini ed
parsley, while at either end of the
platter were mounted green peas and
boiled potatoes, snowy while, also
sprinkled lightly uph line cut pars
ley. A boat of Hollandalse sauce
and tiny raised biscuit, not larger
than a flfty-cent piece, completed the
Bourse
The entire luncheon was so well
chosen and satisfactory, though sim
ple, that 1 append it:
Crape Krult Cocktails.
Cream Tomato Bisque.
Boiled Cod, Hollandalse Sauce, Po
tatoes and Parsley. Peas, Celery.
Nut and Apple Salad on Lettuce
Leaves with Mayonnaise.
< Basilsk - Bit-osii • Roquefort Chee^
, l>e*p Kngtish Apple Pie
Black Coffee.
Cisret waa sei ivd for those who
dtasired it.
ilrii Chowder.
Base and cod are the best Ash for
‘ i*w4er. but other ttsh can be used.
U»« fish and cat ta siloes. Fry
a few slices of fat salt pork, then
take up anil chop. Into the pork
fut put a layer of the llsh. several
pin es of the fried pork, a few slices
of onion, and salt and pepper to
season. Add also pilot biscuits that
have been soaked Vender in cold
water, or some of the ordinary crack
ers broken in small pieces. Repeat
the layers of fish, pork and crackers
until all the iish is used. Then turn
In enough cold water to cover the
whole and simmer from twenty-rive
minutes to half an "hour. Thicken
the gravy with a little blended flour
and water, arid butter and season
If you wish, with a large spoon.*ul
catsup or a glass of white wine, and
serve at once.
■ .Oyster or flam Cocktails.
These are always sure to be wel
come. For each person allow live
small oysters or clams, one teaspoon
ful of horseradish, one teaspoonful
of tarragon vinegar, a tablespoonful
of tomato catsup, two drops of
tabasco eauce. a pinch of salt and a
; teaspoonful of Worcestershire sauce.
! Mix the seasonings thoroughly
add the oysters or dams, put into
■ glasses and let them become thor
oughly chilled before serving. Ray
a slice of lemon on top of each coek
i tail.
Finnan Raddle Fish Cakes.
A new step Snd time saver for the
huey •hwriiS.-wffV t* Vile bak*d ’ ftiihan
heddte that now tomes ready/t,o use
, for fitfh cukes, creaming or chowder.
The fish is less smoky than when it
. omen whole. For the cakes mix
the finnan huddle parboiled with an
| equal quantity of mashed potato.
, season wit it melted butter, salt and
| pepper, addl a beaten egg and mould
into cakes, Uhen frjr.
jS®
reigning price at the comer grocery
ia II.SO a bushel. The best country
sausage brings twelve cents a pound
on the farm and from twenty to twen
ilve cents in the Washington grocery.
John A. Stewart, of New York, re
lates how asparagus raised In north
ern New York sold for three cents a
bunch on the farm, six cents a bunch
in the neighboring village, snd forty
ttve rents a bunch In New York.
Figures on Groceries.
u is the same wun the other things
the grocer sells. The January quo
tation for matches, retailing at two
boxes for flve cents, was 11.60 per
144 boxes. The highest grades of
Java and Mocha cotfee were quoted
at twenty-six and twenty-four cents
a pound, respectively. Extra fancy
dried peaches were priced at nine
cents a pound; the finest salmon at
eighteen cents per ran. the best baked
beans at 11.16 a dozen cans, ten-cent
bottles of horse-radish at slxty-two
and a half cents a dozen; ten-cent
bottles ot petroleum Jelly at seventy
live cents a dozen; twenty-flve-cent
bottles of laudanum at 11.90 per
dozen; Epsom salts at two cents a
pound, and so on without end.
It is plain, therefore, that the re
tail food dealer gels a large gross
profit. He lays heavy tribute upon
the consumer, but what about his
net profit'.' One sees but little evi
dence that he enjoys nvuoh of that.
Few grocers are genii)* rich, and
many of them go into bankruptcy.
Aye, there Is the rub. Competition,
to be tin lire or traae, nan
broken up the food retailing business
Into such little bits that each retailer
must make an enormous profit to
gel a living out of his business. He
must live, whether he sells $5,000 a
year or $35,000. The smaller his sales
the greater per cent, he must add to
each dollar's worth of business, and
the larger his business the closer mar
gin he can give.
The situation Is the same In other
things which the consumer uses A
country merchant went to Baltimore
to buy goods. He bought a suit of
clothes at $1 50. which he retailed
at $10; a Panama hat for $4, which
retailed at $8. Collars at eighty-nine
, ents a doxen, which retaileu at $1.5u
per dosen. Holla bought for thlrtv
nlne cent* a doxen were to be re
tailed at ten cents each. Toys which
would bring twenty-live cents each at
retail were bought at $1.39 a dozen.
.Statistics show that the best sewing
machines cost only about fourteen
dollars to make. and bicycles even
less. Shoe stringF that are sold for
live cents a pair cost sixty cents a
gross.
Hut with all Jhese figures the aver
age merchant Is not growing rich
The retailer must pay his rent, his
hi lp and his delivery expenses. His
rent Is higher liecause' the lot on
which the building stands Is worth
twice as much as ten years ago. The
landlord had to pay six dollars a dav
for the bricklayer and the plasterer,
and four dollars a day for the car
penter who erected the building. Ami
so It goes all down the line The
farmer must have more for his beer
.Rttie than he readtzed twenty years
fig,i, for the corn he feeds them Is
worth twice as much. He must get
more for his wheat than he did twen
ty years ago, for the labor he hires
costs him as much again. The labor
er must have twlre as much as ho
had twenty years ago for his clothes,
his rood and his rent have doubled
In price. Relative prices have In
creased vrctatlvelv everywhere., but
what difference does It make to th<*
average Individual If he earns a thou
sand dollars a year and has to spend
nine hundred for living, or whither
he earns two thousand and has to
spend nineteen hundred?
This thing of prices works some
strange anomalies. Secretary Wilson
says that beyond a doubt American
food products are being sold cheavsr
abroad than at home, and that the
glory of having the cheapest food
stuffs In the world has passed from
us. A R. Cahill, a representative of
the London Board of Trade, who Is
investigating prices In America says
that he has discovered a riddle he
cannot solve—the American pays five
cents for a fourteen-ounce loaf ol
bread, while the. Britisher, with his
bread made of American wheat, gets
a slxty-four-once loaf for ten cents.
it Is difficult to predict the out
come of the present hue and erv
against the increase In the cost or
living The national protest of the
consumer would undoubtedly be ef
fei tlve if it were carried forward with
the same enthusiasm that marks Its
start. But as a rule the dear public
after being driven to desperation In
some such matter, suddenly sits tin
on its hind legs and howls to the
moon. It makes the welkin ring for
a space, then as suddenly forgets Its
crusade and lapses Into forbearan^
and Inactivity. It Is to he hoped thW
In this Instance the consumer will
prove to l*e lotig-wlnde<* that he wilt
I'unMruut to "hrtller" lnutllv an/) <> *
length, hut If this crusade docs not
prove to !«• a flash In the pan.lt will
he contrary to the history of such
movements. ,
■Tomorrow—Technicalities of th«
law.
T
i.
COPYRIGHT. 1910. cr THE NEW YORK EVENING TELEGRAM (NEW YORK. HERALD CO.). Al Rights Reserved.
'<tp. GmwwaM
HAIR AND SCALP MUST BE ;
CAREFULLY BRUSHED EVERY M
Tresses Must Be Freed From Hair Pins and Then So Parted
That Brush Bristles Will Reach and Stimulate the
Scalp—Hair-Must Rest at Night. r - ^
The texture of the hair is affected
by the matter in which it is arranged
for the night, for unless well brush
ed and revived after the strain caused
| by hair pins lfjtd at contrary angles
I during the day it will be weakened
and may fall
1'nder no consideration should the
hair he left at night arranged as It
has been during the day. For the
scalp, like any other portion of the
body, requires rest, and must have
it to continue its proper work—that
of nourishing the hair folicles. Be
sides, hair pins cause a pull which
is Inevitably weakening, and so It Is
better to take out all the pins and
let locks hang loose than to leave
them taut and trim.
But the best way is to give the
scalp a home treatment whlrh will
benefit It. This treatment begins with
a good brushing, the brush having
' long bristles’ that will go through or
between the hairs and reach to the
head itself. It must stimulate, but
| not Irritate the scalp. There is as
j broad a distinction between these two
i as there would be between ruliClng
the hand briskly and scratching it ;
with the nails.
Not much good is done to the scatv
by brushing all the hair at one*, it
should be divided into sections, mak
ing a part ill the middle of the head.
Kach portion must then, be sub-di
vided into quarters, and by 'this
method the tips of the bristles will
go through to-* the scalp surface,
stimulating circulation. To remove
tangles use only a.,comb having coarse
teeth; those which are fine will ir/l
tate the scalp and make the hair nil.
After all the snarls have been re
moved and the hair is lying in its
natural line, a little massage may be
given the temples, for that portion
requires special strengthening. Tor
this purpose the finger tips are placed
firmly in the hair. Just above either
temple, and then the scalp is m«4e
to move over the skull. Five mlhutes
of this simple treatment canhoi fill
to do good, especially if some tonic
suited to the scalp is applied.
The l>est method of confining the
hair for the night Is to braid it loose
ly. I am not among those who con
sider it advisable to let the locks hang
MUCH ABUSED BOY
OBTAINS FORGIVENESS
■H I
The boy in the car sat cuddled so
close to the woman in gray that every
body thought he belonged to her, so
when he unconsciously dug his muddy
i shoes into the broadcloth skirt of his
j left hand neighbor she leaned over and
said:
! “Pardon me, madam, will you kind
j ly make your little hoy square himself
around? He Is soiling my skirt with
j his muddy shoes."
The woman in gray blushed a little j
and nudged the boy away.
"My boy?" she said. "My goodness, ;
he isn't mine.”
, The boy squirmed uneasily. He was j
such a little fellow that he could not j
i begin to touch his feet to the floor, so !
he stuck them out straight in front of j
him like pegs to hang things on and
looked at them deprecatingly.
"I'm sorry I got your dress dirty.” he
said to the woman on his left, “1 hope
It will brush off."
The timidity in his voice took a short
i cut to the woman's heart and she
smiled upon him kindly.
"Oil. it doesn't matter,” she said.
Then as his eyes were still fastened
upon her?, she added, "going uptown
alone?"
, "Yes, ma'am," he said. “I always go ,
alone. ,There isn't anybody to go with
me. Father's dead and mother's dead, j
I live with Aunt Clara over In Brook- ;
lyn, but she says Aunt Anna ouglit to1
■ help do something for me. so once or
l twice a week when she gets tired out
' and wants to go to some place to get
rested up she packs me off over here to
\ stay with Aunt Anna. I am going up
: there now. Sometimes 1 don't find
Aunt Anna home, but I hope she will
: t>e home to-day, because it looks like it
.is going l,o faIn .and X.don'.t.like to.
hang around in the street In the rain." J
The woman felt something move In- I
side her throat and she satd: “You are
I a yery little t>oy to lie knocked about In
; this way," rather unsteadily.
“Oh, I don't mind,” he (aid. “1 never
; get lost. But I get lonesome sometimes
i on these long tripe, eng when I gee
anybody that I think Y4 like to be-1
A !»'. . . jW. '• -. T'J .■ .
long to I scroogo up close to her sri'I*
c*n make believe that I really am lifer
little boy. Tills morning I was plaji®'
lng that I belonged to that lady on the
other side of me and got so Interested
that I forgot nil about my feet. That Is
why I got your dress dirty."
The woman put her arm around the
tiny chap and "scrooged" him up so
close that she hurt him, and every
other woman who had overheard his
artless confidence looked as it she j
would not only let him wipe his shoes j
on hor dress, but would feel like spank- I
lng him If he didn’t.—New York Sun. 1
Something Lacking.
Ths editor of the Atlanta Constltu- j
tion. Clark Howell tells a good Btory
about a former janitor of the Constitu
tion office, who lost his place through '
overindulgence In liquor, and who af
terward secured a position aa an as
sistant In an automobile gagageln
that city. ,VT ,
“He had been working r&und the
garage as a handy man" for about six
months,” said Mr. Howeill, r'^ndj)hap
pening to meet* him on the-street one,
day 1 asked him how he^was getting
along jn the automobile business.
" ’Fine,’ said he.
"‘I suppose you know everything
about an automobile now, Tom?' I said
to him.
" 'Yes, sir, Mr. Howell, 1 knows a lqt
about dem cars, for I’s been working
under dem and over dfem and ‘all
around dem ever since I deft de Con
stitution office. But tier Is Just spne
thing about dem automobiles dat pus
sies me,’ said Tom. 4 ,
“•What’s that?' 1 asked.. ”
“ ‘W*U. sir,. Mr. Howell, T -can’t get
It Into’my head how they make ’em go
without hitching a horse to !&'"
Submarine fog signals can be heard
thirteen miles.
The Chinese decline to buy phono
grjapbs bavin* black trumpets. .
Taxicabs have displaced the han
soms of London to a very great extent.
Old silk hats are in demand In the
East End of London as nosebags for
donkeya
The twelve principal crops 6t this
country show a valuation of 14.000.
040,000.
A b«e ri.it* *i> averagg,<rfYab.nrfw
ers before Mooring a ntf of nectar.
j.- ... _____
>'*<'se at night, 'because th**v ure toe'
liSelyFtm i-mr-mc-' langied. 'Tharp
no strain on the roots if n loose braid
is made, and tt may bp tied with
a ribbon- 1/ the strands will not stay
together. a pretty method 4a to tie
the hair at the back of the neck ’.with
a Wide fa nay ribbon, allowing the
ends to hang free ' They do not snarl.
J M AKOARHT 2£EXTER.
mVKK FOR imtt lEt Pt tKItAt.
Mrs. Jane I'owtp of White lake.
Atlch,, widow of John Alexander Howie,
lifts'starFed a earn paigu jamong his fnr
nfer followers to raise enough money
to pay the funeral expenses of her late
husband.. She claims she assumed the
oJdtK&Jitm after,the furjerai, which the
receiver and others refused to pay.
I.ondon motor bus drivers are lined
for being ahead of time, but rarely
for l>eing late.
The use of dust from vacuum clean
ers Js In demand for use in dueling
jiatWrns in foulidrit
ALDRICH YIELDS 10
IDE LURE: OF SOCIETY
For 32 Years Indifferent to Fash
ion’s Call, lie lias Become a
■ ** V ' Lion.; - V
On£ bf the' conspicuous- feature*
of this brilliant season, the gayest
Washington has known for seven
years, is the Bocial activity of Nel
son W. Aldrich, senior senator from
Rhode Island, says a Washington
special. In his thirty-two years ot
public service Senator Aldrich had
never Identified himself with Club"
or ballrooms, taken active part In
the mfllw+nter ball, the assembly on
prlvatei'ainner parties.
He dined at the White House, of
course,v and occasionally graced the
•board of,T,he vice-prealden^of some
'cabinet-, officer .‘‘to, rtfbet S cf^c pres'd
idSnt,” .Quite regardless of . who the*
(president might lie, * for the; Provl-,
V _ _A..___^ %_A n •.*, A H •. Ml . A 1 ,1 a ■ ft t □ '
Slut lit fix* ‘ Aft • t *
deaiee statesman has sf-en presidents;
cptne and .go. . lie has always’been,*
person- whittle presence Was hientriur be
discriminating hostesses, but was sel
dom secured unless for officio'
reasons. For years he made hi«
Washington home at a hotel more
famous in political than social his
tory, where he would be Joined for
a part of the. winter by Mrs. Aldrich
and occasionally by their elder daugh
ters, one of whom Is Mrs. John D.
Rockefeller. Jr.
In the present season Senator and
Mrs. Aldrich have a home of thelc
own in the Dupont t'ircle district,
where Mrs. Aldrich welcomes a long
line of distinguished visitors everv
Thursday afternoon and no fashion
able company is considered complete
without at least one member of the
Aldrich family. At an embassy din
ner party, a White House reception—
hnd undeR'tHe;present regime-a White
.House reception is in*ifactj*a well*,a*
'in name a real social' function—at a
debutante Dan or me uacneiori
cottmojr, i thc senate r leader U n<m
merely i“gmong those .present." bjjt*
comlngfto be named.-In the’first line
sfollowibg-1 “the distinguished com
gmny inoludedT"/'.,*’
As a dinner partner he is becoming
a leading favorite with the titled
ladies of- the. diplomatic circles, whose
familiar acquaintances With niemben*
of the. sedate has heretofore been
largely confined ’to Mr. Aldrich's, cni
leagues. Mr. Watmore, Senator I>
pejsSSenator Hale. Senator Newland*
anit. Senator duiPont, all recognised
as 'leading,■ Ughts\ injdhe dinner.' part v
contingent of theiupper house'of con-,
groa(j. ’ *
To Miss Klsie Aldrich, the younr
est of his three daughters, and the
only one of them to care for socletv
their Intimate, friends attribute , the,
great change in the head of the
family. With much the same quallt'
of intelligence as her distinguished
father, and a very charming person
ality of her own. Miss Aldrich firs*
pressed him into service for escort
duty and finally convinced him th»*
nails and 'dances, dinner naxtfes and
raoeptfims arethebes* fonnhf re
faDMI Kll Mlfttoriil 'IftbOIV'
WHEN FATE RELENTED
By ELLEN HENEY.
(Copyright, 1910, by Associated
Liberty Press.)
"Oh, it’s a sweet little room," Bald
Mias Stiles ironically.
Her gaze roamed pensively o*'*r
the little hall room she dwelt i \
from the plump divan cushions to
the book shelf above her cretonne
concealed washstand. A trunk bump
ed on the landing outside her door
and then proceeded with a series of
smaller bumps up the stairs and land
ed with a Anal crash overhead.
"Some one new/’ Faint hope flick
ered up, to die Instantly. "But of
course no one worth while would
come here to live," she mumbled
scornfully. Bitter distaste of her sur
roundings, of her daily grind, of her
colorless days arose within her and
Jogged her momentarily out of the
rut of dogged cheerfulness and ac
ceptance of environment that she had
forced herself into.
"I hate ’em,” thumping her head .
into the pillows viciously. "I hate j
everybody.” Rising, she faced her- j
self accusingly in the wavy-surfaced
mirror. "I hate myself, too. I’m ;
even beginning to crook my little j
fingers like them—they’ll be calling!
me genteel next. Ugh, I’d rather be
bad—downright horrid—than gen
teel. with a. cotton wool brain and a
sawdust heart.”
A soft wind stirred the ruffled cur
tain and whisked her hair, and, turn
ing, she thrust her head out into the
sunshine.
“Beoh, Sally girl, but you’ve got
the blues.” she Informed herself,
sniffing the crisp air eagerly.
With the stirring of spring sap
comes an eagerness in the blood may
hap, but It’s the fall for the reckless
ness and zest of adventure, with Its
insistent warning whisper of depart
ing days, its urge to make haste, that
opens one’s eyes’ to fleeting youth.
Us fanning breath charged with tho
last taint scents of summer sweet
nett. And It moved unwontedly in
Sarah Stiles’s heart as she sniffed
the keen air and softened the re
pression of her lips.
"Gird up your loins and put on your
forth,” she murmured, ’‘and pernapn;
adventure will hit you on the ghoul---;
ders. you poor, lonesome thing ami
Introduce you to an affinity. Any -
way, the fall air Is glorious.”
From the woods came the tingling
scent of autumn leaves and sun
warmed mosses and cool-shaded 1
depths. A woodpecker accentuated
the silence In sharply tapped meas
ures and a squirrel darted across ,
the sun-flecked rood.
Miss Stiles kicked her heels against
the fence she was perched on and *u
uncontrollable abandon threw back
ht-r head, pursed her Ups and poun u
forth a lilting, w htstling refrain ot
her long ago school days.
FaintSv floating from the distance
another ‘whistle chimed In. and she
paused. the edges <>f her. soul sih<
drawing together Instinctively, but a,
smile lingered on her lips. W**Titlsc- i
ly rising and falling, the notes < ame
nearer. * Softly the girl crept to the :
fringe or bushes overhanging the road ,
.mil watched the whistler swinging .
^4gT hll“ htad tilled back, hts hands
•buried lit his pockets.
•<I wonder,” she whispered ner
vously, ”lf I dare—urn.
er—intelligent—and nice. 1 be lave i
" ‘ijor sweet, shrill whistle joined his; I
breathlessly she peered ou'. ''-hen
suddenly the earth crumbled beneath
her feat and . laughing, hair-blowu,
clutching the willowy saplings in he.
iiath, she descended into the very
arms of the approaching wh.stl ;r.
While she put straight her hat and
tucked In stray hairpins he picked up.
the n attered crimson leaf dusters,
and presented them to her.
“Did you learn 'The Farmers Boy !
In a little red school house, too'.
he wondered, and at the honest wtst
fillness In his voice the. last remnant
of Sally's caution melted.
"Foolish, reckless, horrid. The
world’s thousand voices crooned It
warning!}- in her ear. but Bhe smiled
back into the Ivoy^ah eyes.
"It was a gray stone echool house
with a boys' yard, and a girls' yard,
and a pump In front where we all
waited our turn for the tin dipper.” j
"But there was a boy who cleaned
your slate and left pink, stick hearts |
or. your desk.”
"Engraved *1 love you,'" she as
sented. "And was there a girl you
made cart wheels In front of all the
way home—all whirling hands and
legs?"
"Qee, I wished you’d gone to my
school!” His eyes were shining de
Ughtedly, and Miss Stiles sobered sud
denly.
“But we’re grown-ups now.” she
sighed. "Only sometimes we forget.”
"Wouldn’t It be great to slide back
to those kPd days, vfhen everything
was what It ‘seemed, when we cried
when we were hurt and laughed when
we were glad, and believed in every
ibody we knew and everything we
were told?", he asked.
Good-Night Stories For Tired little Folks.
The Snow Men.
"Edmund and Philip were two lit
tle boys who lived next door to each
other,” began Ethel's father one
night.
"Every night when they went to
bed they would ask their fathers
when it was going to snow.
. "One night Philip's father said:
'X think it is going to snow day after
to-morrow, for it is the full moon,
and it always snows in the winter
time when the moon is full.’
“Sure enough, the next night it be
gan to snow, and Philip and Edmund
were delighted.
.“Early the next morning they
were up' and dressed and outside,
yeady to make snow men. It was
Saturday, and they knew they would
have plenty of time.
“ ‘My snow man will be much
larger than yours,’ said Philip. ‘I
don’t know about that,’ * said Ed
mund, BhovelUng and roiling as hard
as he could. By nightfall they had
>two*snow- men looking at each other
over the fdnce which ran between.
“You should have seen those snow
men. Phil’s had an old.high hat on
tWevtop of 4tis head, a broom In his
Jlpnd. and ‘potatoes for eyea There
was a pip«i in his mouth. Edmund
wss so anxious to outdo Phil that he
got two x eats of corn from the barn
to make ears for his snow man; but
he could not get potatoes for eyes,
because that would be Just like
Phil’s.
j.Th*‘ lu«C mottling very darly
! Phil’s snow man yelled across the
| fence: ’Hello, there!’
“Then Edmund’s snow man called
back: ’How are you? Cam you tee
me with the eyes in those potatoes?’
” ‘Certainly,’ replied Phil’s man.
^Ogh you hear me with those ears of
corn?*
; MMICh, X , MBt* “Wasn't
It cold last night? I wonder what
those boys aro going to do to ui to
day ?•
"Then the big sun began to get to
work, and Phil's man began to melt*
•Hey, there!’ shouted Edmund’s man.
•What’s the matter—are you crying?*
Rut It was not long before Phil's
man was gone, and Edmund's man
was left alone.
“ ‘I am very glad I was made la
the shade,’ he said." ,
STAMPS WORTH «llMMaOOR
Two Baalish Finns Hare Tnllsntlsas
Valued at That Anteaat.
Philately is growing in popularity In
England. It .Is estimated by F. J. Mel
ville, the president of a Philatelic So
ciety, that there are now at least
500,000 stamp collectors in the coun
try. More than 70 per cent, of school*
boys are collectors, too, says the Lon
don cable.
Every year the hobby seems to
grow in popularity. Every year, too,
the value of fare stamps Increases.
Not many years ago a postoffice Mau
ritius stamp, either of the Id. or id.
value, lealised (10. Today oner un
stamped specimen of the Id. value Is
worth £(,000. A little while ago the'
Wales, who Is an enthuslee
or, paid £1,450 for one of tha
which aro
the Id. ones,
onary stamp
lng from\lS51, Is now
£1,000. \
f the growth
be gained from the nun*
s relating to It. Mr. Mel
library, an Incomplete one,
Ue. 2.400 books, each • one
phase of the hobby. —
run have between
Prince
tie col
-M.
stam
rare tha
cent mis
own
An Idea
lectlng m
ber of boi
vine's
contains
about som
Important ___
over £250,00a invested In stamps.
t Of the
billion doll
half billions
third blUtoim.
s Stock of money sevb.
is gold, three and one
Ivor and four and Mn
n covered £1^
"Now I smile when I'm hurt and
cry when I'm clad." she said.
"Well?" he challenced, his hands
still thrust deep In his pocket and his
eyes dancing eagerly. "Ton don't
look like a girl who would take a
dare.”
"I’m no ’f raid-cat,'" she boasted.
“I know where there's a birch.**
The laugh in his eyes flickered anx
iously.
"Oh-o!"
Her little squeal of delight was
general. “And we might And some
wintergreena Tough, ones, you know
with red berries. Oh, it’s fine to be
a kid.”
"Yuh betchyu. 'Tain't no fair to
talk like grown-ups, though," he pro
tested.
To think there was a man like this
in that grubbing city beyond! Her
eyes were as childish and blue as the
autumn sky as she protested.
'"I’ll beat you to that sumac, there,
little boy,” pointing with outstretched
nnger. "One, two, three, ready—go.’*
With that mad scamper, Sarah
Stiles began an afternoon of unalloy
ed, foolish fun that neve& flagged
until she was homeward bound, load
ed with the gorgeous foliage of_
the autumn woods. They paused at
a bend in the road, where cottageg
below were glimpsed through the
leaves and a sky of molten gold
poured itself Into a glittering river.
The laughter curves fell away from
Miss Stiles’s lips in a tired, satis
tied sigh.
"But it must be good-by,” she wss
Insisting. "Miracles cannot bear repe
tition. it's a rainbow afternoon for
memory—let's not touch it with, the
stupid Anger of reality and shatter it.
boy. Besides, if Fate is eager and
willing. »
“You’re a silly, little girl," satd the
man softly. “You’re cruel, too.
Haven’t we grown up together?"
*'V«rv 1 m n rn norl -I nno oft •(*>
noon," she pointed out. "But, don’t
you understand? I can’t be the little
girl any more. Any way, I'm afraid.
1 know—it wouldn't last.’’
"I can't lure you any more," ha
said ruefully. "But I am sorry.
Here,” he drew out a card and rapidly
wrote a line upon it. "At least, you'll
take this. And if you relent—I’ll ba
waiting."
Running lightly, she started down
the road. Then she looked hack and
while he watched, with a wistfully re
gretful smile, "he tossed the card
into the wayside bushes.
She had paused a scant moment in
the boarding house hall to survey her
tumbled hair when through the cur
tained door she saw him coming,
fumbling a bunch of keys in his hand.
With a smothered cry, she tied up to
her own room and waited, peering
breathlessly through a tiny crack.
It was the same gray figure, with
hands deep In his pockets—the very
whistling man into whoso arms sho
had almost fallen two hours before.
His heavy tread mounted slowly and
sounded in the room overhead, where
the crash of a trunk had driven her
to despair that same day. She buried
her head in the cushions, laughing
hysterically. Then arising, she sur
veyed her radiant face In the tin*
mirror.
"What a dear, sweet, lovely old
thing Fate Is." she murmured.
JOKF, CLAIMED TO HR
OLDEST IA THE WORLD,
It will be difficult to discover Wt
alder practical Joke than that of the
;oppersmHh and the maker of brasen
Images for the temple of Osirla, which
Is embodied in Egyptian Inscription*
fating from the reign of Menes, found
er of Memphis, who ruled over 7.00
years ago. According to ancient ftp*
erds. there dwelt between these twi
craftsmen a quiet man whose desire
was for peace and who was sadly dis
turbed by the noisy occupations carried
on by his busy neighbors. He there
fore asked each or them to say for;
what sum they would change their
dwellings. This they did. Each cal
snlated the amount required, and on,'
being satisfied, paid It over to them. ;
-Now," he asked the coppersmith,
•where ts your new dwelling?" ”11
have taken that of the maker of l»- J
was the reply. "Aik! yott* J
queried the quiet man of the latter# j
"whither goest thou?" "To the house'
of the coppersmith!"
This Is one of many tales told in *11
ages which. are woven into myth ana t
legend and differ only in local color—
Rochester Democrat and Chronicle.
Asking Too Mock.
The mother of little six-year-old
Mary had told her a number or limes
not to hitch her sled to passing sleighs, j
feeling that it was a dangerous prao- ,
tlce. It was such a fascinating sport,
however, that Mary could not resist
it, and one day her mother saw he*I
go skimming past the house behind m>
farmer's "bobs.”
When she came in from play sho was
taken to task, her mother saying se
verely. ."Mary, haven’t I told you that
you must not hitch onto bobs? Be
sides. you know It is against the law.**
Mary tossed her head. "Oh,” she said,
“don’t talk to me about the law. It’a
all l can do to keep up Ten Command
ments!"—Woman’s Home Companion.