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77’. 7 ** ;«*■ «* P~* nb.et are alike in
71 77 *=J *" rt* * <* rel-nniO, In
fl 77‘ *=•*•• «» -bite Sr*jM«. of
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* 7 *' ’ ** u~l f'*'f ‘•"o* was anyway
* ■
Ta*,.' cnhwpjrt wsm,^ go to the Hope
* "*-*- «M*‘ *» owe almost a. U rge as
n ‘ « »W bw* nr ware i,„.tless which
* »s- -•- st FT-.bb—a pearl of td carat. Again
,kr** *. * * * owe of T7 5-K carat.
T ^ CTWW" witch is rained
*»= * * ~ other pub hawser, of drafted
► J* «3 i tsroea parti, and cd Ute.-e the
4* great S-rthrrn Crons which
fcrr- I t* tme hramrfn* pure white lustrous
* Us. nat -n r Uemt* m *,«. ^ope of n cross.
* ."A ia length. fr, rhwh yucr offer nauld
Mart at f>. *f t<» nMnf to hwy tu
T * ** * *»» Mrtd “f women with p***.. the
* 1 t ’ttml adL. u i-'ra'xn yearly prt.
•*** * ~ *‘*rry.- cetera, mag w tether or not It
rfawiC te b id by ramulwa and a sample
***** fTt** *-v W»««c«t baths Then if the
*“* ^ vhw Is « charge declares that
,tr‘- t*r-U* i oysiecr warrants a fish err. the
*•- *» * » - te 1-sMatrr *.r>.*ach the eant and the
*' -» '-f t-'ast «cvm. c-joje-v mere bants, pear l
**-*•' a*5d rpf-.-wlatcirr osec an fast ns •hey can
* Cc c' ftaar Ac cerate n=d oriental
“*M Ah »f*t n Pauh- Almost m if br
maj-b n t en of «t>.em> xhahhasts arisen out
«' ti. ne I ihere as no magic about It. for the
* «« of be lm are easQy bailL A rough
framew r* «f tree tranche, h formed and over
** ** '*'• *•*»• we pot the mats known as
«=-«Jaw—torss^d «f the woven leaves of the ~>~m
mat wr «k Mb. Mb there are ah. am pre
1 erected far the aae of the gor
_ ■*•<*** w*»fei. HKfci. hamltai.
«ow*t he-aae. wnBe there are streeta. lanes, street
- -■Mb «f the eaww. oagatde of the
the dicers, and they disdain to Bo
their own servants,
id k ep an eye on the
the ffsh:ag fleet nets out. some
an of them carrying as maty
aniloes aad hangern
■_ the diver
flMafl Ml . Maws a tang Meath, steps on
t the henry stone hung hy a rope, and in plunged
—
I cmOm^OCSgf
: WZV~&10>!2OS2 A'y~
W
C*Z4S~<ttT Gr*
S C&ZmFjr^
jifcenson. gives some iu'trestiu*; fig
ures about the number of nurses and
doctors in the Orient. "There are
probably." he says, "cot more than
100 nurses in the entire missionary
world and there 80.000,000 people in
non-Christian lands who have no med
ical aid except missionary psvsicians.
All Christenclum has sent out only
080 medical missionaries, male or fe
male. and this body maintains 348
hospitals 07 leper asylums and 21
classes for native women.
"One physician who had no nurse
to help him treated 18.000 cases iu a
year. So you see that the supply of
trained medical assistance is wofully
inadequate.
"In Calcutta, which has the best
facilities i'i the Orient, three-fifths of
the population die without any doctor
r otht'r ttained medical assistance
in their final illness. In China there
U? 1 :.■> u;,ea<i:.r.? t,( tt-.^ bottom, seven or eight
„elo* Filling his basket rapidly, he is
drawn up and repeats the operation as often as
:>e can About two in the afternoon the government
E’.iiilioat fires a gun and the fleet sets sail back
As there are no wharves, the oysters are carried
on shore and deposited in the •kottu" by the
strong tiorters. As soon as the shells are depos
ited they are counted, two-thirds going to the
government as their share, the other one-third
going to the boat which brings them in At sun
s * the sh-Us are auctioned by the thousand, and
?!: -re is tierce competition, for who knows what
the In" cry of chance may bring them in pearls.
The oysters brought are then removed apart by
each buyer and placed in his compound, where
they are carefully guarded till the sun beats upon
them, putrefaction sets in and the oyster begins
to disgorge its treasure. Then the malodorous
contents of the shell are washed in vats and the
residue yields- my lady's pearls.
W ben a Buddhist prays he implores his god
that when he dies he shall not be cursed by be
ing horn again as a woman or as vermin. That
is the attitude of the native men of India toward
women and against which the missionaries in the
Orient air directing all their energy.
Dr Eleanor Stephenson, a Brooklyn woman
vbo has been practicing medicine in India for
three years and who will return to her work
there soon, makes an appeal to American women
to go out there, the New York Evening Telegram
cays.
“1 want the women here to realise what it
mean; to be born in America," she said recently.
"To be born where a woman is the backbone of
the man. his strength and help in every way!
Why. out in Ahmednagar. where my work is. a
woman u no more than an animal. She is for
the purpose of raising children and that is all
A man thinks more of bis caw—if he is lucky
enough to have one—than he does of his wife.
“A Hindoo husband will let his wife die before
be will call in a man to give her medical or sur
gical treatment. That shows the need for women
physicians in the Orient." ^
In Ahmednagar. which is aa inland plateau
•bout a hundred miles from Bombay, there are
two physicians. Dr. Ruth Home and Dr. Stephen
son. and one American trained nurse. Miss John
son. Coder Mias Johnson there are 14 native
women who have had some slight training -and
these hetp with the nursing. In the mission hos
***** ***** ***■ toitol of women run 15.OOP
pnovio were treated last year, an average of 41
a day. These folk have come from a radius of
fsr^aro011*^ "°™e spectaI ***” h*T*
The Rev. Aiden H. Clark, who Is aa educa
tioaal missionary at the same place as Dr. St*
is probably one American or European trained doc
tor to every million and a half of people. In the
I'nited States there are 160.000 physicians and 22.
000 nurses, an average of one physician to every
.‘•50 people."’
“Of course we do a great deal of actual nurs
ing and that is most Important,” i>r. Stephenson
says, "but another thing, which is even bigger, is
this: We show women who have thought them
selves wholly unloved that some one cares for
them. They know that there is a very small
money consideration given us and that what we
do is done for love. So they love us.
"When I see woman physicians struggling for a
living here and know what a field there is in India.
1 feei as though they must be told.
"The kind of work I have been doing is a ter
rific appeal to the sympathies. We have to respect
caste, which makes nearly all of our cases long
standing. One woman whom I treated eame to me
with her entire arm in a gangrenous condition.
She had pricked her finger seven months before,
at the time of her husband’s death. On account
of her caste she could not so much as leave the
house for the seven months, during which time
septicemia set in and went up as far as her shoul
der 1 told her that her arm would have to be am
putated. She refused absolutely to part with it.
and died as a result.
"Another woman burned her knee and turned
up at the hospital five months later with that part
of her leg in terrible condition. The leg was cut
off and the woman made a perfect recovery.
“I went many miles Into the interior to see an
injured woman. She had fallen down a well and
was fearfully bruised all over. I found her lying
on the floor grinding corn, every turn of her arm
causing the most intense agony. She couldn’t
boar to have me even touch her. she was suffering
so. I told her husband she had to be taken to the
hospital or she would die and he asked who would
cook the bread if she were gone. He refused to
allow her to go. A11 I could do was to leave a
little medicine."
Dr. Stephenson finds that the natives invariably
prefer using ointments to clean dressings. Women
come in large numbers to get ointments for raw
sores where their husbands have beaten and cut
them and they are full of gratitude to the doctor.
She finds that those of high class are just as bru
tally treated and just as grateful as the lowest.
“Transmigration is one of the strongest beliefs
in India.” she says, “and on that account the
people wUl not kill any hnimal. not even a flea. As
a result the poor homes are overrun with bedbugs
and other vermin, which spread all sorts of fevers
and diseases.
"And another of their ideas is that we don't
know anything about raising babies. Hindoo
mothers, without exception, give opium to their
babies to make them sleep white they work in the
fields. As a result a large pioportion of the little
Hindoo babies die before they are a year old. Most
of the work among the natives is surgical and the
obstetric cases are the most interesting. This is
because the natives have medicines of their own.
but know nothing of the use of the knife.”
Able to Foresee Events
~ coring ctmi cut tMrt
icJer*-" or that there
I
til m*M} 1
” t>—* to Harr? Watt, t I
' <A the Ufcisl. .r«ew police
jui'^Bortti—5 to the r*hi1»a» 'phli
patroL Itxwas ready in n few min-1
■ten and was only In waiting abouti
tan seconds when there was a rumble
and roar in the direction of the
Wayne street bridge that crosses the
Fort Richmond branch of the Phila
delphia £ Reading tailway. The pa
trol wm away in a it*y. and when it
ranched that paint it was soon found
that at ct the new kind oT camel
jjafk^ngtoes^oe the Philadelphia £
SdmHkd mKgheK^ Another
that people get an Idea of what's sein
ing is this: Everytlhng was quiet in
the district ior weeks during one
period, and the patrolmen were long
ing for a run. I said keep still, you
will toon have one. In a little while
all hands were greeted by the sound
of an explosion. A big boiler on the
second floor of Mercer's mill on Broad
street, above Lehigh avenue, exploded
and blew the structure to pieces. I
could recite ether instances when I
thought we were to have more that
the routine work and we had tt-~
• RamblesL
in Ireland
By Sammaa
Mac Menus
J
In Kickh&m’s Country
•CuyyU^i.l, *iKU. b\ W. U Ciapuutu.)
The loveliest, most beloved of Irish
writers—the one that best knew our
people, and felt for. and felt w ith, our
people, and who accordingly found
their hearts—was undoubtedly Charles
Kickham; and his beautiful novel of
homely Irish life, "Knocknagow, or
i the Homes of Tipperary," is the most
dearly-prized story in Ireland.
Finding myself in the south of Ire
land 1 must needs make pilgrimage to
i the Kickham country. And that was
why. on a beautiful Svaday afternoon
of May. I bowled along a road, pass
ing a half-acre field which is popu
larly supposed to be in no county,
though three counties run up to its
, three fences. The sight of a big, bare,
i gaunt building, with roof broken and
windowless, grinning like a death's
head at the passer-by, soon afterwards
arrested my career.
“What is it?" I asked of a country
boy.
" 'Tis a house, sir. that was built by
a chap from America five-and twenty
Tears ago."
“And did he desert it?”
“Faith, he had to!"
“Why?”
“Well, he built the house upon gen
tle (fairy t ground, and from the day
the roof went on it, it was crammed
full o' thim lads.” He accompanied1
the reference to “thim lads” with a!
jerk of his thumb over shoulder. "An'
they neither give him paice, night nor i
day."
--\na ne went duck to America
again V
"No. then—he went to the divil.”
Mullinahone. a quiet, ou.-of-the-world
village where Charles Kickhaui spent
almost all his life, was entered by a
street t hat presented the appearance
of having had all haunted houses, for
most of them were roofless, and all
of them wiudowless. presenting a
most melancholy appearance.
All the house owners on this street
I found, later, had been evicted al
most a quarter of a century ago, be
cause. In the Land league days, mak
ing a bold stand for the sake of other
than themselves, they gave their ad
herence to the “No Rent” manifesto,
adopting the plan of campaign, they
were summarily bundled out by the
landlord and their houses wrecked. I
spoke to one of them who. fortune fa
voring. had managed to acquire a
shop in another part of the village
and to prosper again. Ho told me that
almos' all of the evicted tenants were
still living, or trying to live, in or
around Mullinahone. and were expect
ing soon to be reinstated in their
property, and to resume the happy
life they had known ere. for principle's
sake, they were cast upon the world.
These brave fellows, and many an
other band like them in other parts of
Ireland, are crippled heroes of the
land war. It was their readiness to
sacrifice themselves, and their aetual
sacrifice, which, an object lesson t*>
the landlords of Ireland, showed them
what the Irish tenants were prepared
; to do—brought landlords to thei,*
knees, and saved tens of thousands,
aye. hundreds of thousands of their
rackrented fellows throughout the
land. It was their action, too. that
forced from the Rritish government 1
rresh land acts and left their happier i
i el lows In easier and cheaper possea
■ sion of the land. These evicted ten-1
ants—bands of whom are to be found
j in various part of Ireland—nobly
staked their all in defense of the cause
—and lost. Yet they suffered, and
i suffered in silence like the brave men
they were, and it was their triumph
to see that though they lost, all Ire
land won.
“Is it do 1 know Charlie Kick?" said
: a young man upon the street to whom
j 1 put a question. "Well." reflectively,
with a loving shake of his head. "I
think I did. Tis many's the time
when I was a little bare-footed gor
soon. mesclf an' the other little lads,
when "we were playing hide-and-seek,
would go in and out under the table
he was writin' on in the garden.” His
eye kindled when he heard from mv
lips the name beloved. And I observed
the same when I mentioned Kick
ham's name to any other of the vil
| lagers. Howsoever indifferent they
; might be in answering questions on
other subjects. I had hut to mention
Kickhant and they opened their hearts
! to me.
When I went to the chapel-vard to
visit the grave of the poet and novel
ist 1 was followed by a few of his old
Tenian comrades and disciples who
had got wind that a stranger, much
interested in "Charlie Kick.” had ar
rived in the village. They shook me
warmly by the hand, and one of them
whose head was frosted by TO win
ters and more, but who was still of
erect carriage and bright eye, showed
plainly that his heart glowed, since a
stranger had journeyed from afar to pay
homage to the memory of his hero
and leader. These men took oft their
hats and knelt by the graveside with
me and prayed still another prayer
for him whom they had honored and
loved—him who, his hopes for Ireland
unfulfilled, his yearnings unsatisfied,
his long and trying struggle uncrown
ed with success, at length laid his
bones to moulder under this green
sod. These men. who now put up to
God a prayer above his grave, had
taken from'Charles Kickham tue oath
to answer their country's call, and
were to have stood side by side with
him in the gap of danger when free
dom's tocsin sounded the call to arms.
But ere their fond dream could be ac
complished they were fated to see
their hero claimed, first by a British
prison and then by death.
As I looked up to the Celtic cross
•hat was reared above the patriot's
grave I noticed some straws sticking
out from the circle which bound the
arms. and. climbing aloft to satisfy
myself, discovered that there a black
bird had built a nest in which two
lovely black-spoued. green eggs lay
innocently, it touched me to find that
the beautiful songster of our glens
had reposed her fondest trust thus in
the arm of the dead patriot's cross.
And I instantly recalled, loo, that
charming incident in his most charm
ing novel, where “Wattletoes" wheed
les the slice of plumcake from Willie
Kearney by dangling before him the
prospect of being shown “a tlirishe's
nest with five young wans—feathered
an' all," when Christinas snows were
on the ground. The blackbird that
buili her nest and laid Iter eggs above
Charles Kickham's grave did him a
greater honor even than the loved
ones who lifted over him the beautiful
cn s
i was curiously reminded of our old
iTe mi "Wattletoes,” when a lady, who
spoke with affection of Kiekhara and
of Mullinahonc—a Kilkenny woman—
told me an incident that happened in
her youth. A simple herd boy of her
rate ts. who liaded fror.5 Mullinahone.
pr. -nted himself for confirmation at
the parish chapel, hut the poor boy
iur.de snch a hopelessly had showing
when tested on his religious knowl
edg that Father Mat. impatiently
jumping from his seat cried out: "Is
there a God at ail in Mullinahone?"
To which the poor boy. anxious to be
as accommodating as invisible, meek
ly and sincerely replied: "No. your
reverence, there isn't any."
The reply would have done credit to
"W attletoes" Apropos of the same
subject—if I may still wander—1 can
not forbear setting down here a more
reei jit confirmation story which 1
then heard, aud v.iiicb was also truly
Wattletoes like:
"llilly Kirwan," said Father Tom,
quoting a question from "The Prin
ciples of Ohristiau Doctrine," on w hich
he was examining the class, "what is
th<’ first thing you should do upon ris
ing in the morning?"
"Tackle the donkey, father," replied
Billy, "an' drive to the craimery"
l strolled through the few streets
of Mullinahone, a quiet, lovely, home
ly village, where one might easily pic
ture all the fun aud all the sympathy,
and all the warm-heartedness of Kick
ham's "Knocknagow" still flourishing
in the breasts of this kindly people.
1 went through Kickham's old house,
now inhabited by a Mr. Norton, one of
the evicted tenants referred to, and
one w ho very kindly showed me about
and told me of Kickham's haunts and
habits. 1 sat by the freside where
the gentle poet and hot revolutionist
hat! had his eyesight impaired, and t*r
more seriously, his bear!**, by a P°w
der explosion: and I walked ia the
garden where the novelist had walked,
as he thought out his plots: and I
sat in the shady bower where he had
sat while he penned them: and I
journeyed to the three ash trees be
yond the town to which Kickham
journeyed every evening: and 1 **t
in the fork of the trees where he was
wont to sit in meditation.
The white-haired tailor, who lived
opposite to Charles Kickham s house,
hearing that an admirer of Charlie s
had come to town, sent me pressing
messages to come and see him. all
impatient to talk of his old friend
whom he loved and admired. When i
visited him he particularly pressed
upon me in order that l might take a.
copy from it a fad'd portrait of the
patriot which had been presented to
him by the patriot's brother On hi^
hero's shining qualities the old tailor
lovingly dwelt, while the moist ghaut
of sorrow shone in his eye. ■
To the poor of MuHinahone Charles
Kickham and ail the Kickham fatally
were charitable in remarkable de
gree. giving them food, clothing,
money—their own clothes, while still
they* were unworn. Charles Kick
ham's father was an anti-emigration
ist. "Stay at home.” he would say to
the MuHinahone hoy who came to bid
him good-bye. "Stay at home and I'll
find something for you to do. Maybe."
he would add significantly. "Ireland
will need you soon!"
All the Kickhams bravely strov-' to
bring nigh the hour when Ireland
should call to them and all her sons
to give for her their lives. All of "the
Kicks" were equally patriotic, but
Charles, the idol, was able to give his
patriotism undying expression. He
was. and is, a prophet in his own
country, and in remote corners of Ire
land: end. indeed, in far corners of
the world wherever exiled Irishmen
rave strayed, hearts bout that know
tnid love him well and fondly as do
those dear ones in his own beloved
MuHinahone.
When his lawyer announced to the
Felon Kickham in the dock of Green
street courthouse, on the evening of a
dark January day of '66. that the no
torious Judge Kehoe had just ordered
him 14 years' penal servitude for the
crime of loyalty to his country and
disloyalty to his country's enemies,
it is recorded that he heard the sen
tence with a smile. On being after
wards asked what he missed most ia
Jail. Kickham replied: "Children, sad
women, and fires."
rauier .u;u Kusseti tens n.t \ vore
fond ho w&s of little children at d
how well ho know to win their hearts.
He quotes one of Kiekh.atr s ir.timr.te
friends ns saying: "It delighted hi t',
when the little ones tried to talk to
him on their Sneers, and ho was '<*
patient in t -aching them." Children
who loved him were play tog about his
feet in the sunshine when the strode
of paralysis fell or. hint. This tes t
irony agrees well with that c> Martin
roister, who had told me hew th>
table in the garden on which the no*
eiist was writing had often served
him as a covering in the game of hide
and-seek. Father Russell tells us how
that, at the Ihibiiu exhibition in 'iH.
Klckham lingered long before a paint
ing—"The Head of a Cow." by one of
the old masters—not on account of
any subtle genius he discovered in it.
but “because it w as so like an old cow
in Mullinahone." Seif-revealed in that
one iittle sentence stands the lover,
poet, and patriot. Charles Ktckham
—may whose soul rest in the garden
of God!
A PRIMER LESSON
By 0CHWART2.
THE MEAN MAN
Man. Mud Pud-dle. La-dy.
Sec the Man. See the La-dy. And oh. see the Mud PudMle W > *
does not the Zob lav his Coat down so the ia-dy can step on it ? IV
cause his Name is jinks and not Sir W alter Raleigh. And then too
he has just coughed up 15 Bucks tor the W rap-por and he has on iv
a Plugged Beer Check left. And Mr. Jinks knows that he can no
buy an-oth-er Coat with the Plugged Beer Cheek. So he lets ;‘>r
La-dy Swim.
Mr. Jinks is a Mean Man.
Children should al-ways throw their Coats in-to a Mud Pud dle
when they see a La My.
EAT GINGER IN THE MORNING
■..... 1
Said to So Pleasant Means of Putting
Bad Tempered People in an
Amiable Mood.
Always eat ginger in the morning.
That is the newly discovered cure for
the got-out-of-bed-on-the-wrong-side
feeling that afflicts so many men in
the morning.
•For many years." a correspondent
writes. “I have been the victim of my
own ungovernable temper and have
hcver been able to get myself amiable
before lunchtime Recently a friend
presented me with a jar of preserved
ginger and my good fairy suggested
to me that it would be nice as a relish
at breakfast in place of marmalade.
“Since I have been taking it my
frame of mind in the morning has
rapidly improved and now I am able
to start the day as cheerily as a
typical countr. farmer. Ia it the
ginger that has worked this cure?"
A well-known doctor said that if
people would only eat ginger at break
fast their health would Improve In
many resjxx'ts and they would start
the day much readier for work than
they do now. ,
"Ginger.” be said, "contains an es
sential oil which acts as a tine nerve
tonic. It promotes digestion, is an
excellent stomach tonic and is ex
tremely good for the liver
"The liver is the organ which
mal ps people so morose tn the rnorn
] in*. Until it has been well stirred
up by the day's work it is in a
lethargic condition, and frequently
the brain is in the same state, for
its blood supply is not right.
"Now if people who experience
these symptoms would only take
I plenty of ginger at breakfast their
livers would act properly and their
digestion would improve to an extent
they cannot realiie until tfcev try the
cure Thev would go to business in a
normal state of temper
"I nm perfectly certain that if more
ginger were eaten the world wonld he
a very much better place to live in
for nine-tenths of the people who are
' >k>w mbtankte until thev have
1 r owt 14 *^r sterns
*ot»W then be a, JoHy and br-gh: in
the rooming as they are at an oenit*
party non "
Such Orearvs
I *11 beginning to believe that there
Is something in the claim that
dreams gu Igv contrary's.' says Ralph
; Martin, the railroad roan.
"The other night I dreamed that ;
found a SvedoUar bill and the next
fn'' * ' somewhere between
h«‘ llolSenden and the hake Share
"The Rest night I dreamed that 1
bad been hurt and that an aeeid. *t> ,
insurance company's agent was h*-d. '
ng me When I got down to the
'dfce 1 found on my desk notice fr™,
this company that my annual $2;, Ss.
sessment was due and unpaid
"A night or two laier I drear ,*d
tuat a roan a ho had borrowed $jti
from me a year ago was paying mt.
tack and may I never eat ng** it
the chap who borrowed the $i« didn't
meet roe on the street next day and
make another touch."—Cleveland
Press.
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