THE POET AND THE BABY, r I I Cow's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell— How’s he going to weave the dim poetic spell— When a-toddling on the floor Is the muse he must adore, ▲nd this muse he loves, not wisely, but ' too well. Now to write a sonnet, overyone One must always be as quiet as a allows, mouse, But to write one seems to me Quite superfluous to be, When you’ve got a little sonnet in the house. Just a dainty little poem, true and fine, That is full of love and life in every line, Earnest, delicate and sweet, Altogether so complete That I wonder what's the use of writing mine. —Paul Laurence Dunbar. I £ 'S A MOUNTAIN GIRL. * £ 2 ***** H*«H*Hi*li«4'ysiM 9 OTO IS morning. The rising sun Just tops the crest of that por- tion of the Appalachian chain of mountains between the northern and southern boundaries of the State of Kentucky, tinging Its peaks and crags with n grayish vagueness. From every ravine and gorge huge clouds of smoke like mist arise, assuming wondrously odd and fantastic forms In the uncer tain light. The stillness engendered by the natural environments and the time of day Is unbroken save now and then by the far-off bay of a foxhound float ing faintly from some mountaineer's cabin, or the whistle of a dove’s wings as It flies swiftly by to the sedge fields. The sun climbs higher, and conscious of its might, drives back to earth the quenching mists. The rear guard shadows of the night are mysteriously disappearing The smoke of numerous cabin chimneys can now be distin guished rising in curling columns of blue. Along the rutty clay road, or rather mountain path, and hugging the wormeaten rail fence for safety a red fox slinks under cover of the abler bushes, his whiskers and brush brist ling with pendant drops of early morn ing dew. A mother quail and her brood, that have been pluming their feathers on a topmost rail, with an affrighted whirr fly to cover. Presently a soldier in his uniform comes galloping furiously down the road; be passes'at full speed; the sound of bls steed’s hoof beats grow fainter, and silence for a few minutes again reigns, only to be broken by a dozen or more men In uniforms of the other side, who break cover and also come down the road like mad; their horses reeking with sweat and blood. The first man, farther down where the road forks, has turned to the right; these others take the left-hand branch. In a few mo ments shots are heard, and presently a horse, the one ridden by the first man, comes galloping back to be met and caught by a slim, dark-eyed moun tain girl, who comes suddenly out of the bushes from somewhere. She stands there holding the bridle reins in her right band; the left is pressed hard against her heart as if to ward off an unseen blow. Her eyes stony In their intensity, look off far up the valley to a break In the mountains, where God's good morning displays its brightest rays. Her gnze finally turns slowly to the pursuers, who at sound of the shots have ridden back to the forks, and catching sight of the girl and the horse conies excitedly up the road toward her. “Bob Jordan's darter," says one of them. "Jes' es I thought," laconically replies he, who appears to lie In command. “The peaky critter’s got warnin' frum aum'ers, or he'd bln’r gone fawn skin afore now. Whut air you adoln’ heah at this time o' day?” he demands of her. For the first time the girl seems to take full notice of their presence. “Did ye heali whut I sed?" he de mands more comtnandlngly. “I'd like to know whut consarn that Is uv your'n?” she replies, turning to him defiantly. “Ain’t er body got a good right ter go whar they please 'tliout bein' stopped In tber road and pestered ter death ’bout hit by er lot ov big, cowardly men? Ef you air erbllged ter know tho', l'tn er golug down to Bob Black more's to hep Ills mother. She air sick In bed, an’ hepless." “Did ye mean ter ride Bob's boss down thnr? 1 'low ef my eyesight ain't er failin' me, that that air Is his critter. Whar'a Bob now?" he con tinued coaxlngly. “I don't know nuthln' 'bout him. Ef jrou'uns want ter tlud him, you’d bet ter look fer him.” "Whar'd you git Ills critter, then?" breaks In one Impatiently. “I stopped him In ther road, right heali, es I come from down ther path thar. The critter wna cornin’ lopin' up. when I run out an’ headed him off.” After parleying a few moments, tlia spokesman again turns to her. “We’uns think thet more'n likely ye wui tellln’ ther truth Jest now," he ventures. "Bpechully es ye air a mem bar uv ther church, and your daddy wui, too, an' er elder besides. Sissy,” he Insinuates, “nobody ever heerd tell uv your tellln’ no He afore. Which way did ye say ther critter wuz kumtnln' frum?" She looks him steadily In the face. “That way,” she says, indicating with a wave of her hand the opposite direc tion. "Ther I-ord ferglve me," she mentally pleaded, “fer tellln' ur Ils fer Blm." “Thet won't do. Hissy. We’uns Jes hum thet air way ourselves, right after blm. We’uns had better look fer him right er-round heah. I roekin. 1 hear •• tv said for the girl’s benefit, "thet whar thar’s enny petticoats er-round Bob Blackmore ain't fur er-way.” "You better look out fer yerself,” she scornfully replies. "He’un Is mighty handy with his weeplus, and with his fists, too. 1 reckin you know thet, too, don't you, Jim Wooten? I hav heerd tell thet you an’ him had er tight ter wunce, an’ Bob didn’t kum out no little end uv ther horn, neither." "We’uns will fix all thet'thar ef we ever git our han's ou tber ou’ry, good- fer-nuthin’ scoundrel ergin. lle'uus ain’t titten ter live noways.” “He's er sight mo' titten than you air,” she breaks In hotly. "He's alius bin er hard-worklu’, sober man, an’ taken keer uv his mammy; sumpln you never done. 'Sides thet, he’s er gentle man. an’ alius minded his own busi ness. Do you’uns call this wah?” she demands with rising vehemence. “Too cowardly ter go way frum home an' tight yerselves, but lay round heah an’ take everything ennybody's got left. An' soon’s somebody—that’s Bob Blackmore—who's tlghtin' fer his side heahs his maw’s sick, an’ slips off ter kum an’ see her, ter houn’ him like er dog an’ try ter kill him. Hit’s jes cause lie’s better’n you air.” The faint winding of a horn down the road arrests their attention, and hur riedly mounting their horses they ride off, one calling back to her: “We’ve got him, Sissy. Thet's Tom Winburn. I tole him ter kum up ther road, so’s to bead him off an’ meet we’uns heah.” The pursuers proceeded down the right-hand road beyond the forks, from whence the shotB seemed to have come, where the road makes a sudden dip into a dry ravine. Down there a man lies still In death, his cheek pressed heavily against the delicate ferns that grow luxuriantly out of the cool shadows. The trees meeting overhead almost ex clude the light, but now and then a recreant bough, straying from its place through bidding of the gentle morning breeze, lets in a feeble ray of sunshine that touches up the dead man's face with a pallid coloring. The nodding ferns caress bls pale cheek in vain. The morning songsters sing their lays Io unhearing ears. The pines and hem locks mingling their foliage with the poplars, and bowing their good morn ings to the beeches and young hick ories, sough In vain to arouse or soothe the sleeper. He will never again take cognizance of earthly things, nor inhale the beauty and vitality of his native mountains—his spirit has gone before the last tribunal. A round hole In the center of his forehead shows where the messenger of death has entered, bringing Its Inevitable summons. Ills slouch hat lies where it has fallen a few feet away, his right hand still clutches a pistol, his finger within the guard and grasping the trigger. Ills garb is the same as they wear who find him. He had sought unfairly to take hu man life, and with his own had paid tho penalty. Coming from farther down the mountain to meet his com rades and seeing the fugitive he had ridden aside into the ravine, intending to slay him unawares as be passed. But he had seen the interceptor, and was prepared, and as the other fired at him going by he too had fired in return, and slew him. It was but a moment’s work to exchange his steed for the fresher one of the dead man and ride furiously forward again. The horse deserted, frightened at the realization of something wrong and scared at sight of the dead man. gallops back to be met and caught by the girl. But now, heartbroken, overwhelmed and frightened at sight of the inani mate body they shortly bring up the road toward her she flees stricken and crushed, thinking It to be the other one. And thus it is for days and long weary days, until by chance she learns the truth. The war’s over. Another bright morning. A man rides leisurely up the road; where it forks he catches sight of a woman’s form sitting on a fallen tree, where she has evidently stopped to rest. “Mawnin', Miss Sissy,” lie says. At the sound of her mime the girl looks up quickly, and then ns quickly down again, a flush surmounting her usually colorless cheeks. “Mawnin', Bob." she quietly re sponds. "We 'lowed up ter our house es how mayt>e you’uns had forgot us. How's your maw?" quickly changing the subject. "Hit did look bad In my not erktim- mlu' ter see you all afore now," he re joins, Ignoring the last question. “But I had ter kinder straighten up around home a bit afore I got out much." "1 tliaut you wuz killed wunce. Bob.” she ventures by way of further con versation. Instantly he dismounts, leaving his horse standing in the road, and goes up and sits down beside her. “Why did you'uus think that?” he asks. “I will ergoln' down ter your tnaw's an' stopped your critter In the road up thar that time, an' then they brought he’un that wuz killed, an’ an’----- ” she could go no further at recollection of her misery. “An’ did you keer. Sissy?” he asks, leaning eagerly forward. "You warn't dead," she protests. "Well, then uv ther fac' that you thaut I wuz dead?" She answers him nothing. A few dry leaves flutter In the autumn air and fall at their feet. A wild grape vine nods Its approval aud swings in the breeze, and the branches of the trees overhead rustle with the gambols of a young fox squirrel. A flame-crested woodpecker flies to a dead pine and be gins plugging unmolestedly away. He puts his arm around her aud draws her to him. "Who writ that thar note. then. Sissy, that wus shoved under ther door that night ter warn me? You will tell me that, won't ye? An’ who tuck keer of my mammy when she wuz sick? Sissy, honey”— the arm draws tighter—"won't i you marry me?” She hides her face RHYMES FOR THE WEEK. against bis breast. "You air shore good at axin’ ques- When to Sneeie, Play, Work or Pray Outlined in Old-Time Verae. I tions, Bob,” she says, "an’ I love ye.”— While it is true that superstition la Louisville Times. dying out, it Is also true that In many minds there lingers a little vestige of INHERITED DISEASES. faith in bygone traditions. To find Care May Prevent 1 ran«mission from proof of this one has only to enter some Parent to Child. of the large stores and see upon the The question of heredity, or the trans Jewelry counter a display of rabbits’ mission of certain mental traits or feet handsomely mounted, and appro physical characteristics from parents priately labeled as fulfilling all the con to children, is one that has been much ditions supposed to be necessary to in studied, but of which as yet too little sure good luck to the wearer of the Is known. Formerly the inheritance of charm. disease was believed in implicitly, by In an old book, written in the year physicians as well as by laymen, and 1630, are found some rhymes upon the the list of maladies to which children days of the week which have outlived were supposed to be almost inevitably many a piece of writing more worthy condemned by the accident of birth of preservation. On reading some of was a very long one. them one somehow receives the impres Among these hereditary diseases sion that every day of the week was were reckoned consumption and scrof either a Sunday or a holiday, and that ula, leprosy, gout, rheumatism, goitre, the simple folk had nothing to do but cancer, insanity, epilepsy aud many to play and rest when not engaged In other nervous affections. As we learn prayer, an impression not borne out more about these maladies, however, by the "stubborn facts” of the hard- one after another of them is removed 'working lives of the masses in “olden wholly or in part from this category times.” That Sunday was scrupulously and placed among the acquired dis observed Is evident from the warnings eases. of the direful consequences of cutting Undoubtedly some diseases are really the nails or even sneezing on the Sab inherited, but their number Is certainly bath. not large. Many diseases run In fam ilies, but are not on that account neces You know that Munday is Sundaye’s brother; sarily hereditary. Tuesday is such another: Consumption, for example, was only Wednesday you must go to church and recently regarded as one of the most pray; surely Inherited diseases, and is still Thursday is half-holiday; believed by many to be so. But we On Friday it is too late to begin to spin; now know that it is a germ disease, Ou Saturday is half-holiday again. which, while not "catching” in the or dinary sense of the word, Is readily Cut your nails on Monday, cut them for news; transmitted from the sick to the well Cut them on Tuesday, a pair of new when the invalid is careless in his hab shoes; its, especially as regards expectoration. Cut them on Wednesday, cut them for It is also acquired more readily by health; those of delicate constitution than by Cut them on Thursday, cut them for wealth; the robust. Tlie children of consumptive parents Cut them on Friday, you’ll cut them for woe; are seldom robust, and so are predis posed to any of the germ diseases, and Cut them on Saturday, a journey you’ll go; living constantly in a house where the Cut them on Sunday, you’ll cut them for germs of consumption are necessarily evil. abundant, they are very likely to be For all the next week you'll be ruled by come victims of that disease. the devil. This is an important fact. It teaches Born on Monday, us that since, as a rule, only the pre Fair of face: disposition to the family disease is in Born on Tuesday, herited, and not the disease itself, the Full of God’s grace: chances of the younger generation’s Born on Wednesday, escaping, if proper care is used, are Merry and glad: very great. Born on Thursday, , The bringing up of a child in a con Sour and sad; sumptive family should be of a special Born on u Friday, Godly given; ly hygienic character. The best of Born on Saturday, foods, of fresh air and sunlight, not too Work for a living; much study, long hours of sleep in a Born on a Sunday, well-ventilated room and, as far as Never shall want: possible, avoidance of exposure to the So there’s the week. contagion of the family malady—these And the end on’t. are the weapons by which the malign influence of Inherited weakness of con Sneeze on a Monday, you sneeze for dan stitution may be overcome and many ger; precious lives saved.—Youth’s Com Sneeze on a Tuesday, you’ll kiss ■ stranger; panion. I Sneeze on a Wednesday, you sneeze for a letter: DRY CLIMATE OF THE ARCTIC. Sneeze on a Thursday, for something better; Wound« S'ometiinea Heal ' Rapidly in Sneeze on a Friday, you’ll sneeze for It—Meat« Ilo Not Become Putrid. sorrow: One of the American consuls In Ger many has forwarded to the State De Sneeze on a Saturday, your sweetheart to-morrow; partment a report made by Dr. Ilowitz, Sneeze on a Sundny, your safety seek, the physician of the German Fisheries The devil will have you for the whoW Society, who spent four mouths in the of the week. Arctic last year, on some climatic con ■New York Tribune. ditions of that region. He made some “Forgettln’ ” Interesting discoveries concerning the Tlie night when last I' saw my lad putrefaction processes and the healing His eyes were bright and wet. of wounds. Ills steamer arrived at He took my two hands in his own. Bear Island in the beginning of July. “ 'Tis well,” says he, "we’re met Fish caught on the voyage aud dried in Asthore machree! the like o' me tlie Norwegian fashion showed not a I bid ye uow forget.” trace of putridity as long as the air remained dry and clear. Even the nat All, sure the same’s a triflin’ thing, ural fishy smell disappeared. Walrus ’Tis more I'd do for him! I mind the night I promised weU, meat caught on the island and left ex Away on Ballandim— posed on the rocks kept perfectly fresh An’ ev< ry little while or so aud sweet. It tasted, by the way, much I thiy forgettin’ Jim. like beefsteak. Wounds ou the hands, though ex It shculdn't take that long to do. posed to the contact of iron chains and An’ him not very tail: bloody walrus flesh, did not become in ’Tis quare the way 1'11 hear his voice, flamed in fair weather, but they did A boy that's out o' call— not heal. They remained raw, open An' whiles I see him stand as plain wounds. The surface gradually dried, As e’er a six-foot wall. but showed no tendency to form a scab. Och, never fear, my jewel! But it was very different lu damp, I’d forget ye now this minute. cloudy weather. If 1 only had a notion Then tlsh, though already almost O' the way V should begin it; dry, soon became moldy aud putres But first and last it isn't known cent. The walrus meat also soon be Tlie heap o' throuble in it. came offensive. Shoes had to be kept well oiled to Myself began the night ye went An' hasn't done it yet; prevent molding. The slightest wounds I’m nearly fit to give it up, • festered at once. In some cases the For where's the use to fret?— pain was so intense as to make the An' the morning's fairly spoilt on me hardy sailors writhe in agony. But, Wid mindin’ to forget. after lancing these wounds healed rap •-London Spectator. idly. sometimes In one night. “Mighty Rich.” In dry and germ-free air, therefore, there was neither Inflammation nor a A writer in the Outlook describes a tendency to heal, while In moist, germ ride he once took with an old farmer laden air Intense inflammation and pro In a New England village, during fuse suppuration were quickly fol which some of the men of the neigh lowed by complete healing. borhood came under criticism. It would seem as If the system made Speaking of a prominent man in the no effort to heal wounds except when village. I said: “He is a man of the presence of bacteria make« them means?” specially dangerous. “Well, sir,” the farmer replied, "he hasn't got much money, but he's New Industry in Florida. mighty rich.” The cultivation of the camphor tree "He has a great deal of land, then?" In Florida has been so successful that I asked. this section promises to be a formida "No. sir, he hasn't got much land, ble competitor with the far east, la either, but he is mighty rich.” China. Japan and Formosa but a smalt The old farmer, with a pleased rftnile, portion now remain owing to the waste observed my puzzled look for a mo ful methods of obtaining the gum from ment. and then explained: the trees, which In many cases were "You see. he hasn't got much money, cut down entirely. In Florida, on the ansi he hasn't got much land, but still other hand. It has been found that cam he is rich, because he never went to bed phor could be produced profl tably from owing auy man a cent In all his life. the leaves and twigs, obtaining a pound He lives as well as he wants to live, of the gum from seventy seven pounds aud he pays as he goes; he doesn’t owe of the cuttings. The tree requires no anything, and he isn't afraid of any fertilization and is extremely orna body; he tells every man the truth, and mental. does his duty by himself, bls family and his neighbors; his won! is as good By Innuendo» “Chollie la all right but I think his as his bond, and every man. woman and child In the own looks up to blm cables have been cut.” and respects blm. No, sir. he hasn't "Cables cut?” “Yes. He haa no intelligence."—In got much land, bnt he’s a mighty rlcb map. because he's get all he wanu," dlanapoUs Journa'. joints may present Irregular enlarge ments and stiffening?, while the mus cles of these limbs become small from lack of use. In many cases of acute rheumatism the severity of the pain varies extreme ly with the weather; so that such indi viduals are usually able to foretell, by a few hours, the occurrence of cold and moist weather. There is a variety of rheumatism, so called. In which the pain is felt chiefly along the leg bones, the “shins,” and occurs especially at night. Treatment—One of the most import ant features of treatment of chronic rheumatism is care in wearing flannel next to the skin throughout the year. The administration of drugs Is by no means certain to produce beneficial re sults. Some cases are materially bene- fiteed by the regular employment of the hot air. or hot vapor bath, the Turkish bath, etc. The fact Is, that the treat ment of each case of chronic rheuma tism Is largely an experiment which can be successfully accomplished af ter considerable time has been spent in trials of drugs and remedial measures. Among the medicines which are most frequently useful are tlie iodide of potassium, gufac, and cod liver oil. The following formula may be given: Iodide of potassium........... Five drachms Tincture of guiac..................... Two ounces Water ...................................... Two ounces Mix. and take a teaspoonful four times a day. Other cases will be benefited by using colchicum with tlie alkalis. An exam ple of such mixture is the following: How members of the Chicago fire de Wine of colchicum root......... One drachm partment reach a high window when the Bicarbonate of potassium.Three drachms ladder is too short. / Rochelle salts.................... Three drachms Peppermint water.................. Four ounces Take a tablespoouful three times a FROM ACTRESS TO NEWS GIRL. day. A HUMAN LADDER. A Sorrowful Change in the Life of Palma Schroder, From the footlights, where a few sen- sons ago she was a favorite, Palma Schroder has descended to the ranks of the New York newsgirls. Once a queenly beauty, she is now a cripple, supported by crutches. Miss Schro der is a California girl, who first ap peared on the stage In “The Streets of New York.” Later she took part In other plays and was ou the high road to success when, one morning, while riding her wheel to get some medicine for her mother, who was then living with her In New York, she was knock ed down by a trolley car, dragged the length of a block and left maimed and helpless. Her mother, also an Invalid, proposed suicide, but the younger woman refused. Instead she got a bun dle of papers, went on crutches to the door of the Casino, where she had once been a favorite, and took her station as a newsgirl. There she may now be found, night after night, selling her papers ami eking out a scanty living for herself and her mother. The “lucky” advertiser always hap pens to possess a lot of common sense. —Profitable Advertising. For local business the local newspa pers are by far the best advertising mediums.—The Ad Writer. Advertising is valuable exactly In proportion to the extent to which the thing advertised is found to bear out the claim made for it.—Montreal (C'an.> Witness. The force and profit of advertising consists in constantly keeping before the people your location wbat you have to sell, the prices at which you will sell, aud in religiously keeping every prom ise.—St. Louis Star. Newspaper advertising is the very best “hustler” any firm can employ, going into thousands of homes anil reaching people who are approachable in no other way. It is an indispens able part of every modern business.— Saginaw (Mich.) News. The question is often asked. Why 1» newspaper advertising the most profit able? And it Is to be said that most of the answers have failed In giving the actual reason. The first reason Is, that the newspaper advertisements find the public mind when It is In an explana tory and receptive condition. When a person in his own time is reading a newspaper, he will naturally take in with the news of the outside world those facts which are of use in man agement of his home and the purchase of his supplies. The second Is, when a seller puts bls advertisement In a news paper he at once enters into open com petition with all others in the same line of business: his facts and prices are stated with the knowledge that they will be noted by these competitors as well as by the public, while the adver tiser by circular or sign seems to be endeavoring to do a quiet, non-com petitive business.—Paterson (N. J.> News. Man and Beast. Chronic Rheumatism. This name should, according to all medical usage, represent a continua tion of an acute rheumatism In a less violent and painful form, and such cases are actually found under the name chronic rheumatism. Yet this name, as ordinarily employed, desig nates several affections, all of which are characterized by pains in the Joints or in the muscles, which have a ten dency to persist indefinitely. There is a form of chronic rheumatism which affects the patient like the acute dis ease. except that the symptoms are less marked: there may be no fever, the pain and soreness are less Intense, the tenderness on pressure is comparatively slight, and the swelling of the joints may be scarcely noticeable. As in the acute variety, various Joints are affect ed successively. The disease may final ly become concentrated and remain fixed in a single joint. In this disease there is' but little disturbance of the general health, insufficient. Indeed, to disturb the patient's avocation. Yet there are instances in which move ments of the affected part cause con siderable pain, and patients may be even confined to the bed. After long continuance of the disease the affected Nothing can be so terrible to an ani mal as a human being. There are times when the brute seems to recognize in stinctively that man belongs to a higher order of creation, and is stricken with a feeling akin to awe In hfs presence. In a small African village, some years ago, there was a scare about some leop ards which were said to have killed a number of goats. Accordingly two white men, accqtnpanled by several na tives, set off to hunt them. Presently they found a place in the long grass where it was evident that one of the brutes had recently lain, for the ground was still warm. The natives formed a ring round it, and the hunters got their guns ready. After a little while the leopard emerged from the long grass and was fired at and wounded, but not fatally. With a great bound, he sprang on one of the white men, and brought him to the ground. Holding his victim, he turned and growled savagely at the others. The natives gave a wild yell for fear, and then, like a shot, the leopard : sprang away. He had not been fright- I ened by the guns, but the yell terrified him. The wounded hunter was ill for a 1 long time, and finally had to go back to England, as one of his eyes was badly injured. The Real "Flowery Kingdom." Flowers bloom In the Sandwich Isl- 1 ends all the year round: therefore It Is | believed that that country is more de serving than Japan of the title, “Flow- j ery Kingdom." Ireland has the moat equable cUmata of any country In Europe.