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- A woman call* anyone a rival who tries to have better clothes than hers,\ says,a New York commentator. A girl with freckles, avers the New | York Press, feels Just as philosoph ical about them as a man does about being In a stock market panic. A woman released from jail In Philadelphia preferred to stay In her cell rather than face the gaping crowd. If the crowd has any pride It will quit gaping. Good highways are money savers, asserts the New York Sun. By turn ing a very poor road Into a fine high way we reduce the cost of haulage by from five to seven cents a ton a mile. We still have wagon roads as poor as some in China, where the cost of coal freightage is so high that the commodity cannot be carried to a market more than twenty-five miles away. Prophesies the Utica Press: The time is coming, perhaps is not far away, when wireless telegraphy will be able to accomplish as much as Is now done by cable, which in Its time was a marvel and a miracle. The wireless telegraphy which enables ships at sea to communicate with other ships or stations on land is of the greatest possible practicality and of great value in everyday affairs. The Abbe Pradt, a rushlight of Na poleon’s time, was a most conceited man. The Duke of Wellington met him in Paris, at a, dinner given in honor of himself. The abbe made a long oration, chiefly on the state of political affairs, and concluded with the words: “We owe the salvation of Europe to one man alone.\ “Before he gave me time to blush,\ said the Duke, “he put his hand on his heart, and continued: ‘To me!’ ” The American banks are almost helpless against the abuse of credit by loans from several institutions when credit has been exhausted at one. This was notably the case, re calls the Boston Transcript, in the recent failure of a large business cor poration in the West when it was found that the commercial paper of the corporation had been sold very widely throughout the country in ad dition to the loans made from its reg ular bank. Sorghum is a cane-like grass, with the stature and habit of broomcorn, or of the table varieties of Indian corn, but more slender than the lat ter, without ears and of a glaucous hue. Sorghum is cultivated through out Africa chiefly for the sweet juices of the cane. In the United States it has been employed for many years to make sirup, from which purpose it is more or less grown in every State. It has also been the subject of much experiment in sugar-making. In a letter to the Philadelphia Led ger Louis Repplier advises the Penn sylvanians to get and read William Penn’s “Thoughts in Solitude.\ He says the book seems to be almost un known, and adds: “If the people who are lauding the memory of Penn to day and extolling his great idea of granting religious liberty to this great city and commonwealth of ours would read, reflect and follow out the precepts in that small volume, we might be better, truer and more hon est citizens, particularly in public and municipal affairs, than we are to- day.'* V — - ---- - ------- - — Isaac Charles Johnson,the inventor of Portland cement, is still living in Gravesend, England, and active, at the age of ninety-eight. He was born in the year 1 S 10 , when George III. was King and Jefferson was Presi dent, and when Napoleon was at the zenith of his power. Mr. Johnson won an education under many diffi culties, as his parents were poor. In early manhood he became an archi tect, and a house which he built in the Elizabethan style is still standing at Swanscourt in Kent. It was at this time that he first invented Port land cement, which was introduced Into this country by Levi P. Morton. X. Mr. James L. Cowles, secretary of the Postal Progress League, declares that the farmers of the United States are losing full $25 a year per family ^—in the aggregate, $100,000,000 a year— for lack of freight and passen ger post on their rural routes. They are losing probably $19 much more, he aays, for lack of a cheap and extended general parcels post. The postal rev enues are running behind because of t^e Congressional restrictions of the iree rural service. To remedy these evils, \he insists that we “elect Con gressmen pledged to the widest pos sible extension of the Postoffice, its most efficient and economic admlqls- tratlon.\ 1 Out from the prison at twilight, 1 With stealthy, terrible swiftness. Darted one of the branded, life beating in every vein. Surging through btmin and body with precious, unwonted pain. Out from the dump,' dark coll. The shackles, the sorrowful silence. Out from the ring of fact* end the jarring of stern commands, , Forth to the scent of the meadows, ' The glisten of garrulous brooklets. And the dim, kindly evening he messed with his weary hands. <3n, like the sweep of s scimitar, Dashed he, cutting the darkness, , Or as the storm Wows.on, none knowing its way or its will; Cumbered with horrible fears. Leaped he the perilous ledges, Reaching the village that lay in the valley, untroubled and still. Midway of his sickening haste, Sudden he faltered and swooned, Seeing three a’tand by a window, as the breeze loitering blew; A woman, sad-featured and patient. Two golden heads at her shoulder. Dear eyes, he made shine once—dear childish hair that he knew. Not yet, for surely the blood-hounds Would track him thither to-morrow; Not yet! tho’ soon that door should open, as long ago; „ Dashing the tear from his cheeks. The bronze, rough cheeks that it hallowed. He rushed on. Had they seen it, the poor, wan face? Did they know? Here meet the roads; sec eastways, The long, clear track to the forest. These with chestnuts shaded, the path to the inland town; Behind, a glihipse of the village, Front—four sharp cliffs to the ocean; Quickly, which shall he choose? Hark, the captors are hunting him dowi Shuffle of hurrying feet, Breathing nearer and nearer. No choice for a man who is doomed, unless straight to the merciful sea. Up to the toilsome cliffs! Better death than new anguish! A cry, a plunge. . . . Shine, stars, on the ripples that ring that sea. Soft in the ominous shadow the branches stir by the meadow, Fair in the lonely distance the dying household glow; Deep in the dust of the street, Just where the four roads meet, Two trembling forms where he stood a moment so; • And a wistful child s voice said. Touched with great trouble and dread, \Oh littto which way b l a t h e r go!” ad M , . M E W O O I N G O ’T . ” By HELEN FORREST GRAVES. “Don’t you know me?” asked Martha Minkley. y The Rev. Paul Blossom was dig ging up the bed for late peas, under the pink clouds of the apple boughs, with his straw hat tilted on the top of his head, his linen coat fluttering in the wind and his brow beaded with perspiration. \ One little Blossom was following at his heels with a toy rake, smoothing down the lumps of fl-agrant earth; a second was building houses with clam shells, in the angle of the garden wall, while two others were engaged in the wholesale manufacture of mud pies, at the kitchen doorsteps— all four dirty, happy and demoralized. Mr. Blossom looked hard at Mar tha. He was a little near-sighted, a little absent-minded, and yet surely this sweet voiced, cherry-cheeked woman was none of the sisters of his flock! “No,” said Mr. Blossom; “I can t —say—that— I uo.” Miss Minkley smiled and colored a little. “Try and think back,’’ said she, “to the days of the Wesleyan Sem inary, on Rose River, where we re cited Roman history in the same class, and old Doctor Dodge heard us in rhetoric gnd English literature —old Doctor Dodge, who wore green spectacles and talked through his nose!’’ Mr. Blossom dropped his spade. “It’s Matty Minkley,\ said he. “But, dear me, how you’ve changed!” “I haven’t grown any younger, I suppose,\ said Martha, biting her lip. “But that’s a complaint that is com mon to us all, Mr. Blossom.\ “Yes, I know—I know!\ admitted Paul, turning red to the roots of his hair, as he realized what an awkward mistake he had made. “Time doesn’t spare any of us.\ And then, feeling that he had not bettered matters, he made haste to ask: “And how came you in Toppleton Village?\ “My cousin's husband, Hiram Dodd, keeps the hotel,\ said Martha. “I’ve come to see about a situation as housekeeper for a gentleman that Mrs. Dodd knows; for I am not above earning my own* living, Mr. Blos som.\ 8K6 spoke with a little fullness in her throat, for she had somehow cherished Paul Blossom’s memory kindly since those boy and girl days, and now he never even asked her to “Come in! ’’ “He might have introduced me to his wife, at least,\ said Miss Minkley to herself, as she walked swiftly and lightly along the green path under the spreading maple trees. “That wouldn’t have been too much for old acquaintance’s sake. But it he chooses to forget old times, I can only follow his lead. I wouldn’t have thought it of him, though.\ And the waving billows of the dis tant orchard swam in the disks of two big tears, which momentarily ob scured Miss Minkley’s bright, black eyes. And Mr. Blossom mechanically dug the pea bed up, planted the “wrinkled marrowfats,” and went Into the house, where his sister, a middle-aged spinster, of a careworn aspect and a very uncertain temper, was engaged In single combat with the children. \I declare, Pauli\ she croaked, catching sight of her brother, “them children are enough to try the pa tience of Job. All washed cleap this morning, and mended and darned— and now look at ’em! Why, a gypsy gang couldn’t be more discreditable In their appearance!\ Hr. Blossom looked feebly at the chubby, rosy, dirty flock. “It never used to be so when Mary was alive,* said he. “Well, and that’s just what I am saying.\- said Miss Blossom, tartly; “and what I say every day In the week— you ought to marry again.” “Yes,\ said Mr. Blossom, with a sigh, “I suppose I ought.” And by some curious link of ideas he thought of Martha Minkley, stand ing out there among the apple blooms, with the delicate pink color op her cheeks, and the old roguish sparkle In her black eyes. “Certainly you ought,” said Miss Blossom, thinking of Hester Hender son, the village dressmaker, who had money in the bank, which ought fairly to compensate for her Gorgon-like severity of countenance. “Some one of mature age and ripened judg ment— ” “Of course! of course!” said the Rev. Paul. “Who will befit her position as a clergyman’s wife, and keep your house for you Wia model manner^ as It should be kept,” went on Miss Blos som, “and govern your children with discretion and kindness.\ “Yes, to be sure,” said Mr. Blossom. “I believe I know the very person to realize all these ideals.\ \So do I,” said Miss Blossom, orac ularly. “And not a hundred miles away, either!” “In this very village,” said Paul. “Exactly,\ nodded his delighted sis ter. “It is certainly my duty,\ said Mr. Blossom. “And somehow, upon this day of all days, I feel moved to fulfill it.\ And he put on his best suit, and went straightway to the Eagle Hotel, kept by Hiram Dodd and wife, Elvira. “Is Miss Minkley to be seen?” he asked, politely, of Mrs.‘.Dodd, who came out from the kitchen with car mine cheeks, and wiping her hands upon a snowy roller towel. “Oh, yes, I guess so!” said Mrs. Dodd, smiling and courtesying to the clergyman. \Squire Telwrlght has just been to see her; but I’m pretty sure that he has gone now. Mat— Matty, where are you? Oh, she’s in the blue parlor! Please to walk in, Mr. Blossom.\ And the clergyman walked sol emnly into the pretty blue-carpeted room, with its much-waxed mahogany chairs, gaudy rug, and stiffly starched muslin curtains, where Martha Mink ley sat knitting. “Miss Minkley,\ said he, entering without unnecessary prelude on the subject which was at present absorb ing his mind, “we have known each other from childhood.\ “Yes,\ said Martha. “And I believe you to be a devout Christian, a conscientious woman and a good housekeeper.” “I hope I am,” said Miss Martha, rather fluttered by this unusual ad dress. “In my house,\ said Mr. Blossom, abruptly, “I need all three. And I believe Providence has put it into my head and heart to appeal to you at this critical opportunity.” Miss Minkley neither blushed, giggled, nor burst Into tears. She rocked back and fo£th, went compos edly on with- the red worsted sock that she was knitting, and lifted her black eyebrows Just the least little trifle. I’m very sorry,\ said she. \I only wish yon had been a little ear lier; but I’m engaged already.\ “Engaged?\ , Mr. Blossom’s lower Jaw fell; he stood blankly looking at her. “Td Hr. Telwrlght!\ explained Miss Minkley. “But he’s sixty!\ cried Mr. Blos som. “He Is not young,\ admitted Martha. “Barely, surely, Martha,” argued Paul, forgetting all formalities In hls eager Interest, “you cannot care for Mm?\ “N—no,\.said Martha, “I can't say that I do. But he offers me a very good home.\ “Is It possible, Martha,\ said the good clergyman, “that you can allow yourself to be swayed by considera tions like this?\ “One must do the best one can for oneself,” said Miss Minkley. “Well, well,\ sighed Mr. Blossom, “It would be downright sinful to doubt that all is ordered for the best. It Is the will of heaven. I always liked you, Martha, and I believe your life with me would have been both useful and pleasant. At least, no effort of mine should have been lack ing to make It so.\ “I’m very sorry,\ said Martha, de murely. “But first come first served, you know.” “I should like occasionally to call and see you,\ said the clergyman. “You will still be In my parish, you know. ” “Oh,, certainly,\ said Martha. “I hope we shall always be the best of friends. ” Anfl'*Mr. Blossom almost fancied that, for a quarter of a second, the tender grasp of his hand was in some measure returned. He walked dejectedly out. “I am too late, Mrs. Dodd,” he said, meeting the cheery landlady, who was coming in with a pair of newly- brightened brass candlesticks. “Dear, dear, sir!” said Mrs. Dodd. “She has already promised herself to Mr. Telwrlght. Though how, to be sure, she could ever have made hls acquaintance— ” “She wasn’t acquainted with him, sir,” said Mrs. Dodd. “Not at all. At least not until I introduced ’em, an hour ago!\ The Rev. Paul looked horrified. “And yet,\ he gasped, “she is going to marry him! ” Mrs. Dodd, in her consternation, dropped one of the brass candlesticks. “Bless your heart alive, sir!\ she cried out, “she ain’t a-goin’ to do nothing of the kind. She’s only go ing to be housekeeper for him, at twenty dollars a month, and two ser vants kept. You wasn’t a-meanin,' sir, to— ” “I was asking her to be my wife,\ said Mr. Blossom, solemnly; “and I fully believed that she understood me to that effect.” Mrs. Dodd grabbed eagerly at the sleeve of his coat. “She couldn’t!” said she. “Just wait a bit, sir—wait a bit. Martha! Matty! Come out here this minute! You haven’t understood a word that the Rev. Mr. Blossom has said to you. He has asked you to marry him! ” The knitting fell from Miss Mink- ley’s hands; she turned very pale, and began to tremble. Was It then, true—the crushed-out, forgotten dream of her whole life? The reach ing instinct of her hungering heart? Did some one really love her at last— even her? “I—I didn’t comprehend!” said she. “I supposed that he waited me to be his housekeeper. I believed that his wife was living.\ “She’s been dead these four years, interjected Mrs. Dodd. “And if ever there was a saint upon earth, Martha Minkley, and a man as any woman might be proud to marry, it is Mr. Paul Blossom.” Martha held out her hands. “Paul,” said she, forgetting all the years that had elapsed since they were boy and girl together at the Wesleyan Seminary, “do you eare for me? Do you love me, Paul?” “I do,” he answered, solemnly. “Then I will be your wife,” said Martha, with a little sob. In this world nothing is altogether satisfactory. The Rev. Paul Blossom was happy; so was Martha Minkley; so were the chil|dren, and, In a lesser degree, Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Dodd. But Miss Jemima Blossom was not at all pleased, after having selected Miss Hester Henderson as her brother’s second wife. Neither was Miss Hen derson herself, who had already set tled on the color of her wedding hat. And Squire Telwrlght was compelled to advertise for a suitable housekeep er, after all. But Love, a late-blooming flower In some lives, was beginning to brighten Miss Martha Minkley’s soli tary existence at last; and what mat tered anything else?—New York Weekly. © No Iron ore is mined in the prov ince of British Columbia. The only attempt thereat, at Quasino Sound, Vancouver Island, has been found un profitable and abandoned. The min ing of zinc ore is also practically at a standstill. ♦ The American Marriage Market. ♦ & By CHANCELLOR DAY, ef Syracuse University. ^ . ■ . 4 ;,s Many daughters of the rich sell themselves, and give a bo nus. We have a market here In this country for rich girls. Just as much of a market as they have In Constantinople. To this market come all the ragged, tattered royalty that nobody has any use for abroad. It to a spectacle for men and angels. You cannot be personal about such things, but you. know what I mean, and you can . put it down that most of those sales are not turning out very well. And that to a good thing. JIM GUARDED BEARS WHILE JOE WENT FOR A GUN. \Jim Palen and Joe Batch came to camp with two bears and an amazing story about how they got ’em,\ said Captain Sam Lyman, of the Kettle Creek country, down In Potter Coun ty, Pennsylvania. “The boys weren’t out after bears. They were trimming logs. “Palen had his dog, a whippbt, along with him. The dog was nosing around in the woods, and by aijd by began barking furiously and persisted in It so that Jim and Joe went to see what it was all about. They found the dog all bristled up and barking at the upturned roots of a fallen tree. The hole In the ground where the roots had been was covered by an accumulation of sticks and dead leaytes. \Jim Palen gave this dome of debris a whack with his axe. The blow made a big hole In .the roof, and Instantly a bear shoved Its nose out of the hole and began to snarl and snap its jaws. “From a hole on the opposite side, where Balch was standing, a second bear stuck its nose out and snapped and snarled. These apparitions were so unexpected that both men dropped their axes. Palen’s axe slipped into the hole it had made in tho heap of leaves and sticks and Balch’s dropped down among the roots of the tree. “The men had seen bears before, and as soon as they recovered from the start the appearance of these two gave them and had sworn some at themselves for being scared into dropping their axes they got a heavy cudgel each and went to whacking the noses of the bears, which caused the noses to disappear within the mound of leaves and sticks. “Balch had a rifle, but it was home, and home was three miles away. He wanted those bears, but there was no way to make sure of them without a gun, so Palen said that if Balch would go home and get his gun Palen would stand guard over the bears and keep ’em from getting away until Balch got back. “Joe started on a run for home. He ran all the way there and all the way back with the gun, he says, and Jim says it must be so, for Joe was gone less than an hour. But that hour had been a tense time for Jim. “Joe had scarcely started for his gun before the bears attempted to get out from beneath that root with fire in their eyes. First one bear would endeavor to, come out at one of the holes, when Jim would whack it on the nose with hls club. By the time it was beaten back the other bear would make a break to get out of the hole on its side of the mound. “They kept Jim jumping from one side of the.mound to the other, to and fro, and constantly swinging his club. If Joe had been gone ten min utes longer, Jim would have had to drop and surrender to the bears. “Joe got l)ack with the gun in time to relieve Jim and rescue him. Jim dropped his club and stepped back. “ ‘ Now come out, blame ye,’ he yelled to the bears. “But the bears wouldn't come out. Whether they were shocked at Jim’s language or knew there was a man out there with a gun Jim nor Joe doesn't say, but they wouldn’t even show the tip of a nose at either hole. “After vainly trying various means to induce the bears to come out, Joe Balch dropped a piece of blazing pine into one of the holes. Both bears then came out of the den with a rush that dismantled it, and Joe killed them.\—New York Sun. A DYING MAN'S' RECORD. The first explorers to perish on the Ice cap of Greenland were Mylius Erichsen and his two comrades, in November last. The earlier report that they had drifted on an ice floe away from the east coast was inac curate. Here are the facts as given by the surviving members of the ex pedition upon their arrival in Den mark: In the spring of last year Erichsen started from his winter quarters in latitude 76 degrees 4 0 minutes, where his ship was in harbor, to explore the unknown northeast coast of Green land. He had ten sledges, divided among four sledging parties. The work was .successfully achieved, the northeast coast was outlined and was found to extend much further to the east than had been expected. Three of the sledge. parties re- turnedi to the ship, but the fourth party,\ conslating of Erichaen, the commander, and Lieutenant Hagen and Mr. Bronlund, did not come back. Several parties were sent out to hunt for .the missing men, but it was not until last spring that definite news of their fate was obtained. Erichsen and his two comrades had remained behind on the north coact to complete some details of their work. Bad weather set in and they were detained until late In the-sum- mer, when they set out over the high Ice cap of Greenland to regain their vessel. Their fate was revealed In a remarkable manner. One of the search parties in March last reached a crevice in the Ice In which they found the body ol% 3 ron- lund. Near the body were sketches showing the results of the 8nal ex ploratloas, and the dying man written In hto diary the following words: i- „\I am dying In latitude 7 9 degrees north I tinder the hardships of the re* turn Journey over the Inland Ice In November. I reached this place un der a waning moon and cannot go on because of my frozen feet and the darkness. The bodies of the others are in the middle of the fiord. Hagen died on November 15 . Myllns Erlch- sen some ten days later. “.TOPGEN BRONLUND.\ The body of Bronlund was burled where it was found, but the snow was very deep and the remains of the others were not recovered. Thus per ished the men who paid with their lives for the honor of completing the outlining of the great island.—New York Sun. 1W - ---- - ... A FRACTIOUS HIPPOPOTAMUS. ..Mr. Simpson, a visitor from Bir mingham, England, and hls niece. Miss Simpson, recently arrived at Buluwayo from the Victoria Falls, and Mr. Simpson related to the Chron icle representative some details of a startling adventure which the party had during their visit. One morning Mr. and Miss Simp son, having engaged a boat, em barked on a trip of inspection of the islands on the river. Besides Mr. and Miss Simpson, there were also the boatman on board, and six native paddlers. After getting out some distance a hippo was seen protruding hls ugly mouth and making directly for the boat. The natives commenced instantly to paddle to the shore, and then it was noticed that the hippo had sunk into the water again. The boatman, fearful of some misadven ture, had reached for his rifle, and was just in the act of loading when the boat was heaved into the air by the brute, who had got underneath it. Every one was flung into the water, which at this spot was estimated to be about thirteen feet deep. The over hanging branches of some trees on the island were sufficiently near to permit of being grasped by Mr. Simp son as he came to the surface, and he hung tightly, as he had already grgbped the hand of his niece, who had disappeared beneath the water. Each was in great danger, however; for Mr. Simpson’s leg was entangled in a part of the branch in the water, and he was unable to move. Mean while, the boatman, who was an ex cellent swimmer, had made his way along to them, and after a desperato struggle, succeeded by means of the branch in getting them to land.— Buluwayo Chronicle. 1 BOY OF 10 RESCUES BROTHER. Paul Pomroy, ten years old, saved, hls brother, Carl, eight years, from drowning in the Delaware River, at Trenton, while a large crowd of per sons, not one of whom offered to go to the assistance of the struggling boys, stood at the water’s edge look ing on. Little Carl was playing on the river bank when he slipped and fell into the water, which Is ten feet deep at that point. His cries at tracted a crowd, but the swift cur rent carried the lad far from the bank and deterred any one from try ing a rescue. Several women in the crowd pleaded in vain to the men to save the drowning lad, but they did not dare to try their strength. As Carl’s cries were becoming fainter his brother, Paul, who had been attracted by the crowd, ran up to find out the cause of the excite ment. “Carl is in the river!” cried one of the men. Without an instant’s hesi tation Paul plunged in and brought hls exhausted brother.to the shore. Both lads were hurried home, where doting parents brought them around by the best of care. His Morning Shower. The soda fountain clerk was en gaged in vigorously shaking up a chocolate and egg, when suddenly the glass broke in his hands and the en suing deluge made him look like a human eclair. The horrified custom er leaned over the counter, trying to be sympathetic. Not knowing exact ly what to say, he finally blurted out consolingly: “Oh!— er—too bad—^did the glass break?” Dripping chocolate from head to foot the clerk looked at him witheringly. “Did the glass break?” he roared. “Did the glass break, eh?” And then, with freezing sar casm: “Oh, no—not at all, not at all. You just happened to step In while I was taking my morning shower.’’— Bellman. A Modest Request. Mr. J. M. Barrie, the author, tells a good story against himself. A lady of his acquaintance had tak en a friend to see one of hls plays, and, quite astonished, he asked her why she did so. “Oh,” was the reply, \it's such a quiet street for the horses.” , He also tells of a playgoer who re ceived no response to hls repeated re quests to a lady in front of him to re move her huge hat. At length, exasperated, he said: \If you won’t take off your hat, my dear madam, will you be so kind as to fold back your ears?”—Woman’s Life. There Are Others. “I haven’t had a holiday £or a long time,” said the Philosopher of Folly. “Just about the time my plans for a . vacation mature, a bunch of thirty day notes do the game thing.’’—-Cleve land Leader. j had UL The Igorrote provinces of the Phil- fpplnes have been combined and will be managed by one governor and sub- governors. Bontoc will be the capb •
