JephthalTs Daughter:
A Story of Patriarchal Times.
By JULIA MACRUDER...
( ^nubatut uw iMt im mi H m: Bu»u :i So>i
CHAPTER I.
ieyfctUfc the Gileadite, had only one
*fc.:d. • yuan* maiden named Nama
tat and bond* her be bad neither son
nmr daughter. Now, Jephihah was a
mighty bu of raior and bis name
was feared exceeding.?, albeit be bad
a bean awaat kind and tender, and the
rbsrf treasure at his heart was even
the maiden N'amarab for he bad been
father and mother and all ia all to the
vat* child, whose other parent had
dted and Vft her to the great soldier,
a* the aole fruit at a happ? wedded
lore, too early cat of by death
As tha child grew into girlhood. It
waa known to her. by comparing her
father to tha other men she saw. that
he was not as they: a gloom was ever
an his fare, except when his eyes were
upon her. and than, indeed, he would
<wak glad and amtle Namarah always
•a* that it was the early death of her
? *uag mother that made her father's
fa e look and. even t aken aglow with
* ide she would look at him all is glit
tering armor* as he rode h,» magnifi
•eat war home at the bead of his host.
Par this, her heart was very tender to
him and she strove tha more to make
wp ta him by the sweet service of her
lore f * what he had loti As she grew
•ihf. and stories of the *.n aad folly
of the world were told her. there was
aaowa to her a deeper reason yet for
her father's soelaa* holy The stern
of childhood had preceded the
grief of age and though she only
gained her knowledge hy putting many
small brain and observations together,
she loomed that this gentle father had
been himself a neglected and abused
son whoa* mother he bad never
known, and whose father and brethren
had treated him with erwelty sad in
justice. As his father s younger son*
grew wp they hated Jepbthah because
he was stronger and of a nobler pres
ent's than themselves. and they thrust
h a on( of their father s boose, that
thoy and their mother might W no
more offended at the sight of him Ho
Jepbthah le| from his brethren and
dwelt Is the land of Tob But so great
a soldier was he. no majestic in ap
pearance and m valiant in fight that
the fame of him went abroad through
out the laiMf. and came evea aato the
ears of his brethren
la the land of Tob he took a wife
nod there were spent his days of hap
p'Wrss and there was bora aato him
tae child Sams ran But It came to j
poa«i. before the babe could stand upon
Ms fed the wife of Jepbthah died sad
was burtod. sad in all the world there
was no comfort to the man save ia the
>kiM Kamarah Her he watched aad
‘ended as ki* ail ia all. aad so great
was his love and kindness to her that
i»*f heart was knit to hi*, evea as hit
to hern And in all the land there
• a* no maiden so fair aad beautiful. !
Hey eyes were like cool stream* of lim
ps* water, for riesraew* and for blue
ness like the beavea above. Her skta
fur whiteness was like the leaves of
some little woodland flower oa which 1
tie son hath never shone, but which
the gentle winds of shady place* have
flawed aad kept cool Her hair won
derful. soft and dusky, was like the
brows loaves of the forest, mad when
she shook it down it a rapped the slim
*M»m of bar body round aad clothed her
like s garment Her voice, when she
spoke was ever sweet aad low as the
rowing of the wood doves ia the
te* sad whey she lifted it up.
awd sang with the maidens that were
her companions. It was for clearness,
like the sky lark's
. What wonder that Namarab was ua
«o her father as the light of his eyes. 1
and that many young mm. strong and
goodly to see looked upon her with
favor and sought her to wife But
of all these she would have none dis
daining even to hear them speak aad
saying only that her life aad service
were her father's wholly, sad she de
• aired the love and companionship of no
a. an but him Whea be was at home,
she never left his side; tempting his
appetite w ith dainty duhe* a ben he
was exhausted sad ia need of food.
wn.ac him with her owa hands at
table and bringing herself the fresh
wafer for his ablution*, after which
■die would bend her head for hi* biest
and then lift op her fare with
a smile of radiance, good to cheer the
weary man If It was his will to stay
at home aad rest him from his streau
ows exercise* of arms, she would sit
beside him. and draw his great head
down a pun her lap. and with her lit
tle milk-white fingers ruffle or smooth
the thick masses of his curly hair aad
msfBibeftt board until abe coaxed him
to steep.
* What love do ! want more than
lor abe would atk heraelf * Why
mould I leave him desolate. to take up
my life with another vho mnct ever
be as a stranger to me compared to
him who bath been my rompunkm and
my friend my whole 1‘fe through? And
where la another like unto kirn? In
all tbe land there la not one who. be
And when Jephthah would wake
front alorp. abe would clasp and ellng
to him. and be* him that they never
obould be parted
‘Nay. my daughter. ' be would a»
aver. ~it mwt not be that thou aacri
Inetl thy youn* life for me for whom
ph-oaurr la over I would have thee
wedded to a good man who wU! cher
tah tbee: and In aeeing thee happy and
having thy children on my knee I
aball know the beat Joy that la left for
Then Samara h would weep and im
plore him not to aend ber from him.
anying that whot be pictured aa her
lupplaraa to ber like tbe very
fber of dmfk eo greatly did ake dread
M Whereat ber father Jephthah would
but mb. and say It would not be ao
with ber one day. when the lord and
mooter of bar heart should come
He !• here." abe would any. Binging
| her white arms about him. “there will
be never any other.'* And Jephlhah
would smile again and say only the
one word ' Wait.** whereat Namarah
would grow almost angry, and tears of
veutlon would spring into her eyes.
Then would Jephthah rouse himself
and stand upright on his strong legs
and lift her in his mighty arms as
though she were still the little maid
he used to toss and dandle, and hold
her high above his head, and refuse to
let her down from this unseemly alti
tude until the break of her childish
laughter had blown away her tears.
CHAPTER IF.
It happened one fair morning, when
e*rth and sky seemed all to meet in a
blessed promise of tranquility and
peace, that Namarah stood in the midst
of ber garden, with a small basket on
he.* arm. from which she was scat
tering grain to a flock of white doves,
which, fluttering from far and near,
tame to her feet and sank down there,
a Moving mass of snowy plumage, from
which her slender figure, clad in spot
less white, rose up like a human ema
nation from their pure loveliness of
hue and outline. Her face and throat
and hands were pure white, too. and
a look of deep serenity was upon her.
The sky above seemed not more still
and placid.
She raised her hand and put a few
grains of the food into her mouth, and
at the motion some of the doves were
frightened and flew* up. with a whir
ring noise, only to circle round and
«ome back again and fall to nodding
and dipping about for the grain at
her feet. Presently one of the flock
flew up and alighted on her shoulder,
then another and another. Namarah
opened her red lips and showed the
dark grains held tight between her
little white teeth; at which a pecking
and fluttering began among the three
tame doves, as she would offer her
mouth first to one and then another.
It was evidently a familiar game
which all the participants enjoyed.
Suddenly there was a great whirring
and fluttering and the whole flock flew
wildly off. and were out of sight be
hind the trees, before Namarah. left
quite alone, perceived the cause of
their fright. A young man. taller even
than Jephthah. her father, but with
the ruddiness of youth and dawning
manhood upon his beardless face, stood
before ber. all in shining armor, on
which the moving light danced and
glinted. He had taken off his helmet,
and sunlight kissed sunlight in the
gold of his thick curls. And. behold,
when Namarah turned and looked at
him. a strange thing came to pass.
Her white cheeks, which no one had
ever seen other than calm and color
less. were all at once suffused with
pink, as if a rose had been suddenly
placed beneath a piece of fair white
cambric; and in that moment she be
came a hundred times more beauti
ful than she had ever been before. The
young man colored, too. and bent his
golden head, ms she said:
• If this be the maiden. Namarah. thy
father Jephthah hath sent me to ask
of thee some pieces wl his armor that
he hath need of.**
“ Is he going into a fight?” the maid
en asked, the rose disappearing from
her cheeks. "Will he not see me. to
say farewrell?”
"There is. in truth, some danger of
a fight.” the young man answered.
“ for the times are troublous, and a
mighty man like Jephthah must be
ever ready; but his came is great and
terrible, and in going forth to put
down the enemy that hath so suddenly
arisen. I think the report that thy fa
ther Jephthah ieadeth the host w*ill
be enough, and that there will lie no
bloodshed But. maiden.” he added,
more gently, seeing that her face
look<>d still affrighted. "I pray thee
have no fear for the safety of thy fa
ther. I will even guard his body with
my own.” And. as he spoke, he looked
on her and loved her.
Namarah met the look, and the
trouble of her face grew deeper. She
felt the disturbing power of that quiet
gaze but all ber thought was for her
father.
"Maiden,” the young man mur
mured. in a voice that bad a softened
cadence, "already, even today, there
hath been a surprise attack, and your
father hath been in danger; but it
please God that I should be near him.
to protect him. as I could, and for this
cause Jephthah. thy father, hath
, choaen me to be his armor bearer, so
that in future my place will be beside
him; and 1 say but the truth when I
teli tbee that I will protect his life
with my own.”
"But. truly.” said Namarah. “thou
. art very noble, and life to thee is even
also dear.”
“Life would be dear to ice no longer
maiden.*’ he made answer. ‘If i should
look upon tby face to tell thee tbai I
lived and Jephthah. thy father, was
aimin'*
Thl* time, when he spake the words
"thy father.** it seemed unto the maid
en that his voice dwelt upon them by
the space of half a second. The idea
glanced through her agitated mind
like lightning but afterward she be
thought herself of it. But now the
young man spake again, and reminded
her of his errand.
“My lord Jephthah hath sent thee
hia blessing through me.” he said, “and
he prays thee to be of good cheer, and
to dread no danger for him.”
“I cannot choose but dread.” the
maiden answered, as she walked be
side him to the house, and led the way
to where her father's armor lay.
"Kay. but surely.** said the young
m*n. full humbly, "thou wilt be a
little comforted because of the promise
1 have given thee.”
"Ay” said Namarah. ‘it doth com
fort me much, and I thank thee from
my very heart, but the thought of bat
tie ever makes me tremble, although
I am a soldier’s child. I pray thee,
give my loving greeting to my father,
and tell him I go at once to pray the
God of Israel for his safety.”
"Maiden. I also would be thought of
in thy prayers,” the young man sa!<i,
half doubtingly; and she answered:
"I will pray for thee also, soldier.
Tell me thy name.”
And he said:
“My name is Adina.”
Then once more he looked at her,
and again his strange look troubled
her: and as she stood and watched the
goodly figure in its slrning armor
down the streets of Mizpeh. a wonder
got hold upon her that for the first
time at the thought of battle her fears
were not wholly for her father.
Long time she knelt and prayed, her
maidens waiting without; and all her
struggle was to recover the lost feeling
that her father was her all in all, but
another image rose up. over and over
again, and would not be forgotten. At
last she gave it up. and murmured,
half aloud: *
"Bless him. even the young man
Adina. also. O my God; and bring them
back in safety together.”
Before the close of day. the streets
of Mizpeh rang to the gladdening
sound of the victorious return of troops
from battle. Namarah. high up in her
chamber, watched them with breath
less delight, as she saw the body of
soldiers coming down the street, and
soon she was able to make out the
majestic figure of her father, at their
head. She was full sure of that, but
still, she bent from her window eager
ly. and strained her vision to see more.
Suddenly, her breath was drawn in
pantinglv, and once more the rose was
on her cheek. Behind her father she
had recognized the tall figure of Adina,
and her eyes continually strayed from
one to the other, as the setting sun
burnished the curls of his golden hair
as the young man rode his splendid
horse adown the streets of Mizpeh.
(To be Continued.)
MATCH INGBUTTONS HFR TRADE
Old Sarali Cohen'* Cnlque limine**
Prove* Profitable.
In a little house just off Hester street
dwells an old woman who carries on a
most peculiar trade. She is Sarah
Cohen, or “Old Sal," as she is more
familiarly called, and east side resi
dents know hei well, and most of them
patronize her. On tae window pane of
her little shop is a sign, which reads:
“Buttons Sold Inside. Any Button
Matched from One Cent to a Nickel.”
Her stock in trade is stored up in
thousands of buttons in little heaps
pearl. glass, bone, jet, shell, brass,
cloth, silk. horn, and every other va
riety of button made. It is said the
old woman's business is profitable, and
that she has managed to save about
$5,000 out of her curious occupation.
“You see.” she said to me. “it often
is the case that a woman buys only
enough buttons for a dress, and then,
when she loses one. it is difficult to get
it matched at a notion store. Those
who know me come along here, and I
can always do it from my stock. 1
have my regular customers, for most
storekeepers around here know me and
send their customers to me when they
are unable to suit them, and they sel
dom go away without the very thing
they are after? Where do I get them
from? Many come from junk shops,
where on the rags sold are buttons.
All the rag dealers know I pay a fair
price for buttons, and they save them
until they have a sufficient quantity
and then they come to me. Another
way I obtain them is by visiting the
dressmakers, who often have buttons
left over, and their customers seldom
ask for them. These I can buy up very
cheap. Although my little board out
side says that the highest price I
charge is 5 cents, my better class cus
tomers do not hesitate to offer me a
quarter, or even 50 cents, for a button
that they have lost, in order to make
their garments look neat and com
plete."—New York Herald.
THE FILIPINO WOMAN.
She It Never Prettv. hat It Scrupulously
Clean and Neat.
Never pretty but scrupulously clean
and with virtue unfailing, the Filipino
woman is like no one else in the
world.and from the white man's stand
point is the least like a woman of any
feminine creature. Most women of
tropical countries are fair to look upon,
but the Filipino is the unloveliest of all
the sex. Her eyes are not large, but
they are black and beady and unread
able. Very often hunger looks out at
you; often hatred, but it is not pas
sionate hatred.. It is a stare which
neither revolts nor appeals. It seems
to be the result of instinct rather than
an action of the brain. Her nose is
flat and thick skinned and her hair is
dead black. Then again, as if to make
her still more unsightly, pock marks
are freely distributed over the face of
nearly every woman of the island. The
Filipino woman has a mania for wash
ing, and so long as water is handy for
her laving purposes, she doesn't seem
to mind its nature nor the wherefore of
its presence. She is mildly devout.
Religion to her is an inflexible duty
bred in her babyhood. It is partly
fear, partly pleasure, but in it there is
no fervor of intensity or fanaticism.
Philippine Unuiiekeepers.
“I never get tired of watching the
simple, primitive methods of Filipino
housekeepers, for their processes are
carried on before the eyes of all men,”
says a contributor. The men them
selves do the large part of the hard
work, while the women perch on the
ladder-like steps that lead into their
houses and look on. All the cooking
is done out of doors and usually on the
ground. Their little stoves of red clay
are hardly as large as the iron pots we
have at home. One side is bent down
like the primitive hearth, and the fire
is kept going by long tubes which the
men blow through instead of using
bellows. On this funny little apology
for a stove they cook their rice or
chocolate, stirring the latter with
carved sticks, which they twirl be
tween their palms to keep the beverage
from sticking. Often they do not use
the stove at all. but make a fire right
on the ground. betwreen two stones,
over which they set red earthen bowls
in which they cook."—Philadelphia In
quirer. t
' LOST JEWEL.
Sidney Waterhouse, manager for
Lehr & Roeder, diamond merchants
and purveyors of elegant novelties, had
become a happy man. From having no
particular interest in life he had ac
quired a distinct one. This new and
alert interest was the result of his hav
ing met Mary Boswell. She had come
in the store—an ordinary customer—
and it had been his fortune to serve
her. They looked at topazes together,
and she ran the unset jewels through
her white hands and talked about them
in a fanciful way that quite enchanted
the young man. His business was one
that brought him in contact with many
fascinating and brilliant women, but
he had never met one with such a dis
tinct and delicate charm as that pos
sessed by Mary Boswell. Her irregu
lar mouth, with its fitful smile, the hu
mor of her brown eyes, the wayward
tricks of her abundant brown hair,
and the glow and changing expression
of her face had fairly bewitched Sidney
Waterhouse. He reflected with delight
upon the fact that the splendid pink
topaz selected by her was to be set
by t>eir goldsmiths in a pendant amid
opal* and diamonds. She would be
sure to call several times to watch the
making of the ornament.
It was as he expected. She came of
ten. now for some trinket, now to criti
cize the work upon her brooch, and on
each occasion Waterhouse managed
to find an excuse for conversation with
her. She did not resent his pertinac
ity. She seemed rather to welcome it.
Waterhouse spent his days wondering
how he might secure an invitation to
call.
He felt that the acquaintance was
destined to be a serious matter with
him. He could not trust himself to
look in this woman’s eyes lest his ar
dent admiration should offend her.
When she held out her hand in greet
ing and he took it within his own he
could feel his heart fluttering within
him. He confessed to himself that
he was no longer sane. An enchanting
madness was upon him. One morning
all happened as he desired. Miss Bos
well stood looking at a number of un
set diamonds, and she held an exquis
itely cut one in her hand.
“We never seem to reach the end of
our conversation,” she said laugh'ng
inglv, holding the jewel up to enjoy^s
fairy prisms.
"I know,” he returned, enjoying the
beauty of the white hand that played
with the jewel. “Just as you become
the most interesting, you go away.
You will not even stop to finish the
stories you have begun to tell me.
What I suffer from these repulses to
my curiosity it would be impossible
to describe."
She smiled at him frankly and It
was evident that hidden under her
careless words was a deep desire to
see him and become better acquainted
with him.
“Are you never to be seen anywbere
oiu^ide of this place?” she asked.
“Why do you never follow me and in
sist on hearing the conclusions to these
uncompleted stories? Come, visit me
in my own home and meet my people
and talk under more peaceful circum
stances.”
“When may I come?" asked Water
house, eagerly. “Tonight?”
“No, no! Not tonight! Yon must
appear indifferent to my invitation.
It is not good form to be so precipi
tate.”
“Perhaps I may call this afternoon?"
“If you do not exhibit better man
ners you shall not be permitted to
come at all.”
*‘I shall be at your house tomorrow
evening,” he replied, decisively.
She went smiling, as if happiness
had come to her, too. and Waterhouse,
full of anticipating dreams, busied
himself with rolling the diamonds in
their bits of tissue paper and putting
them away in the large leather port
folo in which they were kept.
But he had not proceeded far in his
task when he realized that the finest
stone of all—the one Miss Boswell had
held up to the light while she noted its
gleaming beauty—was missing. Water
house searched everywhere about the
place, though he had to do so surrepti
tiously, for he was most anxious that
the loss of the stone should not be
come known. He guessed how quickly
the men in the shop would jump to the
conclusion that Miss Boswell was an
adventuress, whose fascinating ways
had cozened him. The house had cer
tain turned-down pages of that sort
in its history.
But after the shop was closed he
returned and by the searching light of
the electric lamps hunted till nearly
dawn. But it was useless. The jewel
was gone. It was what was known
as a “daylight’* diamond and of the
most intricate cut. Its loss could not
be concealed. It was considered one
of the most attractive stones in the
establishment, although not of great
size.
In the early forenoon W’aterhouse
made his way to Miss Bosw'ell’s house.
He determined to tell her of his trou
ble. He would not in his most tortur
ed moments admit she might have de
ceived him and her beauty been a
snare. But when he reached her house
he was not admitted. The maid said
that Miss Boswell had received a tele
gram and been called suddenly to the
Pacific coast. She did not know her
exact address.
Waterhouse no further attempted to
learn it. He set his teeth hard and
went to his employers and told them
the whole story.
“It does not seem possible that Miss
Boswell can be responsible,” they said.
“We must withhold our judgment, Mr.
Waterhouse.”
He thanked them from the bottom
of his heart, but he knew that the sus
h>icion would not die in Vn<ir minds
any more than in his own.
A year passed. Sidney Waterhouse
married a distant cousin whom he had
always known and who needed a
home. Everyone said it was a sensible
marriage. It did well enough, without
doubt. He admitted that he was com
fortable and well cared for. Life was
not. evidently, the interesting affair
that he had supposed it to be, but it
did well enough.
In the midst of this emotional mon
otony there appeared at the store one
day Mary Boswell. She was more
beautiful than ever, but seemed excit
ed and distressed. She came toward
him at once and he felt himself grow
ing faint as she approached him.
“We searched for it for weeks,” con
fessed Mr. Lehr.
The lady turned her eyes to Sidney
Waterhouse with an appeal in them.
"Why did you not write me about
the loss of the stone?” she asked, half
piteously, yet with no little pride.
“You knew it was l who looked at
them last!” He flushed scarlet, but he
reminded her of the circumstances.
"I want you to call Mr. Lehr and
Mr. Roeder. if you will have the good
ness. Mr. Waterhouse.” she said. “I
have a strange story to tell them. Af
terward. if you like, we shall talk
about other matters.” Alone with the
three men. she took from her purse the
lost “daylight” diamond and laid it on
the table.
“Is that yours?” she asked.
“It is ours,” said Mr. Lehr, eagerly,
anxious to have his high opinion of
the lady justified.
“I returned from Calfornla last
night,” explained Miss Boswell, “where
I had been most unexpectedly called
by the serious illness of my brother,
and yesterday, in looking over some
old letters I found this stone in one of
them. The letter which contained it
was an important one to me, and I was
therefore able to remember having had
it in my hand when I last visited your
store. The only way that I could ac
count for its presence there was that
it slipped into the letter 1 held in my
hand while I was talking to Mr. Water
house. Did you miss it?”
“You left the city unexpectedly,” he
said, “and left me no word, though I
had an engagement with you.” The
recollection of the pleasure that both
had expected to derive from that meet
| ing caused them to search each other’s
faces with a sad scrutiny.
“I left a note to be delivered to you
the evening you were to call. It con
tained my address and an invitation
to you to write. I have recently learn
ed that you did not call.”
“I called in the morning.” he said,
“but you had gone and I did not tell
the maid my name.”
The comedy of errors amused the
onlookers. Mr. Roeder spoke his con
gratulations upon the happy conclu
sion to all these perplexities, but a
look of suffering showed itself in Sid
ney Waterhouse's eyes and mirrored
itself in the soft orbs of the lady.
She arose, visibly embarrassed, bade
adieu to the other gentlemen and
started to the door. Waterhouse ac
companied her.
"You distrusted me,” she murmured
as they walked down the aisle togeth
er. I find it difficult to forgive you.”
“I am sufficiently punished,” he re
plied. “I have lost your regard. 1
have lost you.”
“Do not be so hopeless,” she re
sponded with a dash of her old time
coquetry. ‘Perhaps I shall be able to
forgive you. after all.”
He turned from her bitterly. “I was
more miserable than you can ever un
i derstand,” he responded. “And I mar
, ried—to forget. So I have indeed lost
a jewel.”
She turned white, but recovered her
self.
“I have had my bad hour,” she said,
frankly, holding out her hand in fare
well. “It was when you did not write.
I thought that you did not care. Now
—now my old distress returns to me.
But I’m not going to disappoint you.
I’m going to do as—as bravely as you.”
She gave him a courageous smile and
went out. Sidney Waterhouse closed
the door upon her thoughtfully. He
knew it to be the end. The jewel was
lost.—Chicago Tribune.
Tfmp*rlnj of Copper.
The allegation that ancient Egyp
tians tempered copper and bronze to
carry a razor edge is not borne out by
investigation. Thomas Harper of
Beflevue, Pa., challenges any one to
produce a piece of metal tempered by
the ancients that can be more than
| duplicated by any metal worker today.
He says that in examining hundreds of
specimens alleged to have been temper
ed to the degree that steel is tempered,
he failed to find any.nor had he discov
ered any one who had seen such work,
and the fable which has been implicitly
believed for centuries is being shatter
ed in the light of modern research.
This is not the only story believed for
centuries tending to belittle the man
of today, to make him the inferior of
his forefathers, which failed under the
searchlight of inquiry and science. The
ancients were children in mechanical
knowledge as compared to the people
of today, and if there was a demand for
any particular building or piece of
work such as was produced by the an
cients it could be duplicated and im
proved on by the skilled artisans of
the nineteenth century.—American
Manufacturer.
Saved by a Cab
Score one for pussy. A Bristol, j
England, cat a few days ago proved
the means of saving a whole family
from destruction by fire. At half past
two in the morning a shopkeeper
named Ledo Schniedermann was
aroused by his pet tabby, which was
gently scratching his face. He tried
to drive her away, but as the faithful
feline persisted, he aroused himself to
find the room full of smoke. He
alarmed a lodger, Herman Muller, who
was sleeping on the same floor, and
also his sister and another young
woman. They all rushed to the stairs,
where the flames were already spread
ing. With the exception of the lodger,
the inmates, taking puss with them,
reached a landing, from which they es
caped to the back yard. Just as the
flames shot right through the spiral
staircase, Muller, who had stopped to
put on his boots, was cut off from es
cape. The flames reached his room,
and then, throwing out some bedding,
he leaped from the second-story win
dow. He badly sprained his ankle,
and was taken to the infirmary.
COURAGE IN BATTLE.
THE INHERENT BRAVERY OF
EVERY MAN.
Individuals Who at Home Are the Wo*t
Peaceful of Mea Become Demons la
the Fare of an A rased Enemy—btoriea
ef Ueroieaa.
Among the millions of citizens
whose lives have run along in peaceful
channels and who have never been
urged by dnty or inclination to forsake
the ordinary routine of life for the
camp and battlefield there is a senti
ment of warm admiration and love for
the soldier who performs daring deeds
in time of war. It matters not the na
tionality of the warrior, or on which
side our personal sympathy may be
placed, the announcement of some dare
devil act of heroism calls forth our
hearty applause. And why should it be
otherwise? It is natural. It is the
strong heart that wins. The dashing
blade or free lance who with his life
in his hands faces death calmly is to
be respected, for in most instances
really brave men are always true men.
The great majority of people who
have casually noted and dissected this
universal applause for feats of mili
tary prowess have completely misun
derstood the real meaning. The per
formance of a great tragedian may
thrill us and bring forth our unstinted
admiration, an admiration increased
perhaps by the knowledge that we our
selves have none of the qualities he
possesses and that a century of train
ing would not bring us an inch closer
to rivaling his wonderful genins. And
not one man in a hundred who has
read the stories of heroism that have
come from Cuba and the Philippines,
or later from South Africa, but places
the possibility of his ever performing
similar deeds just as far above him.
He is in error. The inborn genius of
dramatic fire is the property of the
favored few. but the recklessness and
courage of the soldier on the battle
field are simply an outcropping of the
common heritage of mankind. At
home, in a progressive community, a
man may be a merchant or a bank
clerk, but. whatever his station, the
environment of civilizing influence is
strong upon him. and most of his
chances for the display of courage
come to the moral side of his nature.
But out in the open, with most of the
trammels cast off and the enemy in
front, with the ripple of the colors
about him. and. more than all, the
feeling that comes from companion
ship in a common danger with many
of his fellows, it is the animal that
gains supremacy. And man. being by
nature a brave and fearless animal—
the most fearless of all the animal spe
cies—simply remains true to his birth
right and goes through the ordeal in
the natural way. What can be the de
duction? There is only one. It is
that battle gallantry and battle bru
tality, springing as they both do from
the same source, must necessarily be
allied. You cannot slip the leash of
a bloodhound and stop him half way
to his scent. If any proof were needed
t® make the fact of inherent bravery
and—the other thing—certain, it is to
be found in the marvelous change in
face, manner and even speech that
comes to nearly every man when he
is engaged in battle. Those who have
seen their fellows under such condi
tions will have no difficulty in calling
to mind what this change means. Re
fined men, and rough, uncultured men.
too, for that matter, with the tenderest
and most humane feelings, men who
would shudder and turn sick at the
sight of a slight accident on their
home streets, have been frequently
known to stand and deliberately watch
the writhings and death agonies of
their comrades who have been hit and
torn to pieces by bursting shells, as if
it were the commonest sight in the
world. It may be urged that the ex
citement of being under fire would be
sufficient reason for this callousness,
but such an explanation will not ac
count for the entire subversion of a
man's whole life training. The real
reason is that at such times it is the
animal nature that takes full and com
plete possession of the human body.
How » Duke Earned Sixpence.
How the Duke of Norfolk, one of the
richest of England's peers, earned his
first sixpence is related by his friends
with a great deal of gusto. A few
years ago a large English party head
ed by the duke, went on a continental
tour. The duke busied himself very
much on the journey in a kind-hearted
way about the welfare of everyone in
the party. At every station he used
to get out and go round to see if he
could do anything for anyone. One old
lady who did not know him w’hen she
arrived at last in Rome, tired and hot.
found great difficulty in getting a por
ter. So she seized on the duke. “Now,
my good man,’ she said. “I’ve noticed
you at all these stations loafing about.
Just make yourself useful for once in
your life. Take my bag and find me
a cab.” The duke mildly did as he
was bid and was rewarded with a six
pence. “Thank you, madam,” he said;
“I shall prize this indeed! It is the
first coin I have ever earned in my
life.”
Curious Bibles.
There are in existence a number of
very odd and curious Bibles, which are
always eagerly sought for by collectors.
At a recent book sale in London a copy
of the Mazarin Bible brought the
rather unusual sum of $20,000. The
special value which attaches to this
book comes from the fact that it is the
first book of any account printed from
movable type. It was issued in 1455 by
Gutenberg, and has by some authori
ties been called the Gutenberg Bible.
It is in two volumes and the pages are
set in two columns each. For some
years there was much dispute as to the
first printed Bible, some experts claim
ing that the Bamberg Bible was the
first book printed in this manner. It
is, however, admitted that the Mazarin
has established its priority of claim.
Nut m Speaking One.
Hoax—Henpeck's wife is an awful
talker. Did you ever meet her? Joax
—Oh, yes; I have a listening acquaint
ance with her.—Philadelphia Record.
i
makes her sick,
Jersey Wmmm »»**«» I* 8tnas«»b
After ted l*y kight.
In a Spruce street boarding-house
there is now living an elderly spinstei
who for thirty years has avoided thi
light. She is a© misanthrope, no re
cluse nor does her aversion to light
arise' from any constitutional defect
Of wide information, chatty and fond
of company, her peculiar condition pre
cludes enjoyment of society in circum
stances making social intercourse most
pleasant. In the evenings when the
gas is lighted, she retires to a cloaked
corner, and hidden under an umbrella
especially constructed to ward off rays
of light, she holds converse. Thus she
sits for hours, like some aeeress un
seen by those in the same room, and
not seeing those to whom she talks an 1
charms with her fund of bright and
interesting things. Not that her eye
sight is affected—it is as good as that
of any woman <0 years at age. She
simply cannot bear the light to strife-*
her. Diffused sunlight as a rule does
not trouble her. but a tiny ray illum
inating a near-hy object upsets her
physical system and is followed, by an
attack of nausea. The patient is Miss
Ford of Moorestown. N. J..a descendant
of the Fords in whose house Washing
ton made his headquarters while in
that part of New Jersey. She cam°
here recently to be treated tor her pe
culiar malady. The physicians who
have her case in charge will not say
whether her condition is pathologically
natural or reflex. Her ailment has ex
isted for thirty years. For all that
time she has been unable to suffer the
radiance of gaslight, and when electric
light was introduced her retirement
from its presence was rendered im
perative. Its effect upon her nervous
system is so baleful that she is made
ill. as though some nauseating dose
had been administered to her. So sen
sitive has Miss Ford become to the
irritating effect of light that should a
sun’s ray invade her corner and flicker
upon the hangings, or tint the window
shade, she would be immediately
thrown into a nervous spasm. The
sun which brightens and cheers all the
world is to her a dread visitor, whose
benign sparks are malevolent messen
gers. The effulgence all nature glories
in induces only abhorrence in her.
When she drives out, except on cloudy
days, the curtains of the carriage are
drawn and draperies so arranged that
there may be no invasion of distinct
rays of light. The most peculiar fact
connected with Miss Ford's unique
condition is that it is not necessary for
her to see the ray of light to be ad
versely affected. Its mere presence
in her immediate vicinity, at her side
or behind her back, renders her sus
ceptible.—Phil^lelphia North Amer
ican.
DEAF CHILDREN LEARN MUSIC
lnteraxtiac Experiments With a Suc
cessful Result at Detroit.
An interesting work with deaf chil
dren is being done under the direction
of the superintendent of music in the
Detroit public schools. A class from
which the best results are obtained
consists of about six pupils. The
children gather around a piano, rest
ing their hands and in some cases their
arms upon the instrument. Soon after
a piece is started the children will be
gin to count in correct time with the
music, catching the accentuation of
beats through the vibration of the
wood. Occasionally a child would
seem to progress beyond the mere re
sponse* to time and count aloud with
some approximation to the tune. When
this fact was observed by the teach
er the pupils were told to repeat the
words “baby, baby.” over and over
and at the same time a lullaby was
played on the piano. In a short time
it was noticed that nearly all the chil
dren with whom the experiment was
tried indicated the air with more or
less distinctness. Still another experi
ment was tried by singing the scale
into the ear of a boy and playing it
on the piano. After a few trials the
pupil was able to sound the notes as
well as could many children with un
impaired hearing. These tests seem to
indicate that singing with some degree
of accuracy may be taught the most
deaf children. If such proves the fact
a new pleasure and a new educative
influence will come into their lives.—
Buffalo Express.
For Itlack Kyea.
It is often the case that people meet
with accidents and bruises that cause
disfiguring and discolorations from
which they suffer not a little embar
rassment and annoyance. It is worth
while to know that there is a simple
remedy, and one quite within the reach
of everyone. Immediately after the
accident, mix an equal quantity of
capsicum annuum with mucilage made
of gum arabic. To this add a few
drops of glycerine. The bruised sur
face should be carefully cleansed and
dried, then painted all over with the
capsicum preparation. Use a camel's
hair brush and allow it to dry; then
put on the second or third coat as soon
as the first is entirely absorbed. A
medical journal is authority for the
statement that if this course is pursued
immediately after the injury, discolor
ation of the bruised tissue will be
wholly prevented. It is also said that
this remedy is unequaled as a cure
for rheumatism or stiffness of the
neck.
UlR Crop* la Arid Undi.
Can the arid lands of western Kan
sas. Utah and other states subject to
drought be made to raise crops regu
larly year after year, and that without
irrigation? H. W. Campbell, a farmer,
formerly of Brown county, South Da
kota. claims that they can. He has
originated a method of cultivation
which, he asserts, never fails to pro
duce crops in the sun-baked territory,
no matter how dry the season may be.
His plaa is based upon the theory that
droughts are caused not by lack of
sufficient fall of moisture, but by too
rapid evaporation. He plows the soil
deeply and subpacks the lower por
tion. thus forming a shallow water
reservoir under the surface. The top
strata of earth is then pulverised as
fine as dust and kept so by frequent
stirrings, forming a fine dust, which
chokes the pores of the soil, cutting off
evaporation and leaving the moisture
in the earth to be drawn on by the
roots of the growing plants.