Charles Wineland, an $8 a month janitor at the City Hall, Fort Wayne, Ind., leaned on the handle of his broom long enough to read a letter the other day and then a few hours later started for California to claim a 114-acre fruit farm on the outskirts of San Francisco and $28,000 deposited in a bank there. The letter informed him that his brother had died leaving his estate to the janitor and a sister, Mrs. Caroline Bowman, of Burlington, Ind. The farm is appraised for taxation at $78,000, according to the letter.
Pedro Sacherelli, a boy in the eighth grade in the Little Falls, N. Y., High School, was sitting at his desk, wiggling, as boys do. Another boy, sitting near him, saw a column of smoke ascending along Pedro's backbone and circling toward the ceiling. A quick look revealed the fact that matches in Pedro's pocket had been rubbed violently enough to set them on fire.
Other pupils and the teacher jumped to the rescue and Pedro's sweater was jerked off, the fire beat out and the small boy returned to his seat. A considerable hole was burned through Pedro's clothes and he was not hurt, though the fire extinguishers shook him up considerably.
A tale comes out of England which illustrates admirably the sort of unexpected demand which may have to be met in building up a foreign trade. A British manufacturer of edge tools made up his mind to secure a share of the trade in Kaffir picks, and obtained a sample of the native-made pick, which he reproduced so exactly that it seemed to be impossible to detect the difference between it and the native article. His tools, however, did not sell, and a representative was sent out to investigate. He found there was one thing for which the Kaffir used the pick that had not been taken into consideration. The native took it out of its haft and used it as a cattle call, and every Kaffir had found that the British-made pick had not quite the right note. It speaks well for the enterprise of the maker that, having discovered this, he produced a Kaffir pick with the right note and established a trade which, the story goes, he has retained ever since.
Paris Apaches, imitating their New York brothers, got away with one of the most daring robberies in the history of the city, carrying off 500,000 francs' worth of jewels from a shop in the center of the town and distancing their pursuers after an exciting motor car chase.
About 9 o'clock in the evening a policeman passing across the street from a jewelry shop in the Rue Tronchet running from the Place de la Madeleine to the Boulevard Haussmann saw a man deliberately break a window of the store with a hammer, seize a tray of jewels and jump into a car, which drove away at high speed. The gendarme succeeded in getting on the running board of the car, but was pushed off by the robber. The thief fired twice at him. The policeman commandeered a passing taxi and began a vain chase, for the bandit's car disappeared in a network of side streets.
Dreams of becoming cinema stars are being shattered in the minds of scores of girls throughout the Middle West as a result of the bursting of an alleged promotion bubble in Kansas City, Mo., known as the International Pictures Corporation.
The scheme, according to Federal officers, was simple. An advertisement in an Eastern theatrical magazine asked for chorus girls and leads. On beautifully engraved stationery, the applicants were told of a trip to California, a chartered yacht that was to sail the South Seas, drop anchor in Egypt and cruise European waters. The only requisite was a deposit of $50 to "keep away curiosity seekers."
The money came with answers such as the following:
"I am five feet four and very pretty. Inclosed is $50."
Then along came the agents of the post-office department and spoiled the plan. Hubert Settles and his wife were arrested. Post-office inspectors say they have scores of the letters from girls.
Secretary of the Navy Daniels announced on January 4 that recruiting for the Navy has been stopped for the present, the enlisted strength having reached 132,000. The naval appropriations for the current fiscal year were made to take care of the pay of an average of 120,000 enlisted men. By expiration of enlistments the number soon will drop to about 122,000, which will give the Navy an average of 120,000 for the fiscal year ending June 30. One reason for the action is uncertainty as to the number of enlisted men Congress will authorize for the next fiscal year. Navy authorities have recommended 143,000. Another reason is found in the fact that the U. S. Atlantic and Pacific Fleets soon will sail for their rendezvous at the Pacific entrance to the Panama Canal. It was not deemed desirable to go ahead with further enlistments with most of the active ships in distant waters. Although the Marine Corps has not suspended recruiting, the standard has been raised, requiring a minimum of twenty-one years of age, five feet five inches height, and 130 pounds weight. The quota for January has been cut to 1,400 and this low figure will keep the enlisted personnel of the corps within the average of 20,000 for the fiscal year 1921 for which appropriations are available. Two-year enlistments have been suspended, and recruits confined to a choice of enlisting for either three or four years.
——OR——
FIGHTING AGAINST A FRAUD
By GASTON GARNE
(A Serial Story)
And then the busy lawyer caught up his satchel and started out of the office to catch his train. Lew opened the bundle of papers, and was soon studying them hard.
He had tried minor court cases, but had never had one in the supreme court, and he felt that it was rather unkind of fate that the first one that came to him to try in the upper court was regarded by even his shrewd employer as quite hopeless. However, he bent himself to the task, reflecting over the one saving point of the week that Smollett had worked, and trying to decide just how to make that fact effective.
Just as he had made up his mind what course to pursue about it, the telephone rang, and he was notified that the case was called and that the office boy had answered ready.
Stuffing the papers in his pocket, Lew walked over to the courthouse, thinking deeply over the idea that had come into his mind. He got there just as the jury box was filled, and eyed them narrowly while the counsel for the plaintiff was examining them. It looked like a good sensible jury to him, and he made but two objections to the men in the box.
The jury was sworn and the case opened.
Smollett's lawyer told how the accident had happened, and then drew a touching picture of how the plaintiff's wife, a sickly looking woman who sat at his side in court, had slaved to support the family, Smollett being unable to work, and not having done a day's work since the time he was injured. Lew cast down his eyes when this statement was made, and began to feel a little more hopeful.
Then Smollett was put on the stand and told his story, moaned about the constant pain that he had suffered since he was hurt, while the jury began to look sympathetic. In response to the questioning of his lawyer he declared that he had not been able to do more than to sweep a room since the day of the accident. Then Lew arose to cross-examine him.
"Mr. Smollett, what was your business before you were injured?"
"I was an iron worker."
"That requires great strength, does it not?"
"Yes, it does."
"All parts of the work?"
"Yes, all parts of the work."
"And you could do any part of the work?"
"Yes, I was a pretty powerful man."
"And you have not been able to do anything more laborious than to sweep a room since you were injured?"
"That is true."
"How long have you lived in this city?"
"Three years."
"Where did you live before you came here?"
"In Far Rockton."
"At what address?"
"Two-forty-one Vine street."
"How long did you live there?"
"Four months."
"Where did you move to when you came to this city?"
"One-seventy-two Bear street."
"How long did you live there?"
"Six weeks. The house was cold and we could not stay there."
Lew bent down and selected a paper, glanced at it as though to refresh his memory, and then went on with the examination.
The Result of the Young Lawyer's Keen Management of the Smollett Case.
"Where did you move to then?"
"Seventy-nine-eight Locust street."
"How long did you live there?"
"Only three weeks. The plumbing was bad."
Lew kept on in this line of questioning for several minutes more, by which time Smollett had testified that he had moved thirteen times during the past three years, in each instance telling the address of the house he had lived in and the length of time he had lived there.
"This is astonishing," said Lew. "You certainly possess a remarkable memory, Mr. Smollett."
"I think I have got a good memory," complacently said the witness.
"There is no question about that," said Lew. "I very much doubt if any gentleman on the jury could have remembered so much and so positively as you have done, and yet you have apparently forgotten that you worked for the Continental Iron Works for one entire week since the date of your accident!"
A murmur of surprise went around the crowded courtroom. The witness grew pale and then flushed fiery red, and shifted uneasily in his seat, while the members of the jury glanced at each other in a significant manner.
Smollett's lawyer half arose as though to make some objection, and then seemed to realize the hopeless nature of the situation and sat down again with a scowl on his face.
The witness was trembling, and Lew went at him savagely.
"I have here a sworn copy of the time-book of the Continental Iron Works, in which your name appears as having worked from the seventh to the thirteenth of June in the year you were injured," he said, fixing the unhappy witness with his piercing eyes. "Do you deny that you did that work?"
(To be continued.)
The extent and the effect of unemployment in Detroit was shown recently when it was learned that twenty-six bridegrooms have recently returned their marriage licenses to the county clerk. All gave the same reason: "No job, no wedding," they said.
Jonathan, the first ostrich chick hatched in Canada, is progressing under the care of Zoo Manager F. Green in Stanley Park, Vancouver. It was at first believed that the rare and valuable bird would not live, and it was taken from its parents and placed in the Green home. Appearance of weakness proved deceptive, for Jonathan quickly whipped the house cat and won a decision over the family spaniel.
William Redke, forty years old, with no permanent residence, out of employment and broke, is in the Washington County jail, Pennsylvania, a confessed burglar and attempted suicide. Redke's cracking of the safe in the Pennsylvania Station at Houston the other night, he told the authorities, netted him but 16 cents. Discouraged over the small haul, he turned on all the gas in the station office. Five hours later he awoke still in the land of the living. In disgust he surrendered to the officers. He pleaded guilty and was committed to jail in default of $1,000 bail.
No one knows where the seals go in the winter. In Alaska they begin to appear on the Islands of St. Paul and St. George about the end of April or the first of May, and toward the latter part of August or in the first weeks of September they disappear as strangely and mysteriously as they came. This is one of nature's secrets which she has kept most successfully hid from scientists as well as the prying eyes of the merely curious and inquisitive.
Even in the days, years ago, when the seals numbered five millions or more, apparently some signal unknown to man would be given and the next day the fog-wreathed rocks would be bare, the seals having deserted the islands. With their slipping off into Bering Sea, all trace of them was lost until their return the following spring. Then some morning they would suddenly reappear, disporting themselves in the water or on the shore.
With the woods of the world to choose from one can easily arrange a whole scale of scents from the sweetest and most delicate of perfumes at one extreme to rank and overpowering odors at the other, says the American Forestry Magazine. The stores of the perfumer's shop will not yield a greater variety than one can find in woods.
The most famous of all scented woods is the incomparable sandalwood. The true sandalwood (Santalum album) is an Oriental tree, the use of which for perfumery and incense began thousands of years ago, and its popularity remains undiminished. The later Greeks considered it one of their greatest luxuries, and no festivities were complete without it. There are many false sandalwoods, at least three from India, one or two from the Philippines and Java, one from Australia and another from the West Indies and Venezuela.
In some parts of the Himalayas and in the Khasia Hills the yew tree is called deodar (God's tree), the name that is elsewhere applied to a true cedar. The wood of the yew is burnt as incense, as is also that of the cypress. One of the favorite woods for incense in the Buddhist temples of India is the juniper. In parts of South America a wood closely related to the lignum-vitae is called palo santo (sacred wood), because of its use for incense in churches.
The Northwestern Indians nearly always made their totem poles out of Western red cedar, but this choice was probably due more to the fact that the wood is easy to work and extremely durable rather than to its fragrance. It may be taken as a very good general rule that woods that are scented are resistant to decay and insect attack and have good cabinet qualities.
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63 THE CLUE OF THE RED LAMP, by Charles Fulton Oursler.64 THE SCHEME OF SOLOMON SNARE, by William Hamilton Osborne.65 QUICKER THAN THE EYE, by Ralph Cummins.66 THE CLUE IN THE DARK ROOM, by Hamilton Craigie.67 THE TONGUE OF OSIRIS, by Marc Edmund Jones.68 DETECTIVE WADE'S BIG CASE, by Ethel Rosemon.69 THE SPIRIT BELL, by Charles Fulton Oursler.70 THE HOUSE BEHIND THE WALL, by Julian Darrow.71 THE ADMIRAL'S SPOONS, by William Hamilton Osborne.72 THE CANINE CLUE, by Thos. J. Lally.73 THE PSYCHIC ENEMY, by Arthur Wm. Andreen.74 THE WONDER GIRL, by Ralph Cummins.75 ON THE WRONG TRAIL, by Ethel Rosemon.
63 THE CLUE OF THE RED LAMP, by Charles Fulton Oursler.
64 THE SCHEME OF SOLOMON SNARE, by William Hamilton Osborne.
65 QUICKER THAN THE EYE, by Ralph Cummins.
66 THE CLUE IN THE DARK ROOM, by Hamilton Craigie.
67 THE TONGUE OF OSIRIS, by Marc Edmund Jones.
68 DETECTIVE WADE'S BIG CASE, by Ethel Rosemon.
69 THE SPIRIT BELL, by Charles Fulton Oursler.
70 THE HOUSE BEHIND THE WALL, by Julian Darrow.
71 THE ADMIRAL'S SPOONS, by William Hamilton Osborne.
72 THE CANINE CLUE, by Thos. J. Lally.
73 THE PSYCHIC ENEMY, by Arthur Wm. Andreen.
74 THE WONDER GIRL, by Ralph Cummins.
75 ON THE WRONG TRAIL, by Ethel Rosemon.
The Famous Detective Story Out To-Day in No. 76 Is
THE SPIRIT WITNESS
By Chas. Fulton Oursler
FRANK TOUSEY, Pub., 168 W. 23d St., N. Y.
A Weekly Magazine Devoted to Photoplays and Players
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Each number contains Four Stories of the Best Films on the Screens—Elegant Half-tone Scenes from the Plays—Interesting Articles About Prominent People in the Films—Doings of Actors and Actresses in the Studios and Lessons In Scenario Writing.
HARRY E. WOLFF, Pub., 166 W. 23rd St., N. Y.
By Kit Clyde.
"Then you will not listen to me?"
"No. I believe you to be a wicked man, and I will never consent to sacrifice my child to such as you."
"But if she loves me?"
"She does not—she cannot! She knows your evil reputation, and her heart is another's."
"I will wait. She loves me, and will be mine. I am sure of it."
"Never! And now, as we have already prolonged this meeting beyond reason, go, and never speak to me on the subject again."
"Very well, Giles Raynor, I shall not. I shall speak to your daughter instead."
"Do so at your peril, Tom Walden! Now go!"
"Good-morning, Farmer Raynor, and a better temper to you when we meet again."
The man whose suit had been refused went away with a smile upon his dark face, and without the least threat against his rival, or the man who had given him his dismissal, nor the least suggestion that he meant otherwise than to honestly win the girl whom he professed to love.
Giles Raynor was a settler in the far Northwest, and a man of importance in the little town which he had founded.
Tom Walden had come among the settlers within a year, and had affected a great liking for Grace Raynor, the farmer's daughter, and had asked for her hand in marriage.
Walden claimed to be a lumberman, but there were those who said that he had come into this lonely region to get ahead of an evil reputation, and although he might be what he avowed, he was no honest man seeking to make a living in these wilds.
It was said, although not too openly, that Tom Walden was a gambler and a thief; that he had fled to escape punishment for his crimes, and that even now, in his new home, he was not above suspicion, and that many had been made victims of his unscrupulous methods.
Grace Raynor had expressed an open dislike to him, and was reported to be engaged to marry Jack Woodson, an honest young fellow at work in the sawmill in town, the only support of a widowed mother, and as free-hearted, generous-handed a young man as one could meet.
No one knew definitely if the young people were engaged, for they kept their own counsel, and when slyly questioned about the matter replied that people would know all about it as soon as it became necessary for them to do so.
Tom Walden left the farmer's house, ostensibly to go to work in the woods, and Giles Raynor gave little thought to him, having other matters to occupy his mind.
He left his daughter to look after the house, as usual, when he went into the fields, saying nothing to her about Walden's proposal, not deeming it necessary to worry her.
When he came home at noon his wife said that Grace had gone to another town to make some purchases, being unable to obtain what she wanted in their own village, expecting to return by the middle of the afternoon.
When evening came she had not returned, and the farmer began to feel a vague alarm concerning her, although Walden had uttered no threats against her, or any one in whom she was interested.
At nightfall a boy brought a note to the farmer, saying that it had been given him by a woman closely veiled, an hour before, on the extreme verge of the town.
The note read as follows:
"Dear Father: I have gone away with the man I love—Tom Walden. Do not pursue us, for we will not be brought back alive. By the time you receive this we will be married."GRACE."
"Dear Father: I have gone away with the man I love—Tom Walden. Do not pursue us, for we will not be brought back alive. By the time you receive this we will be married.
"GRACE."
The farmer handed the note to his wife, his face expressing the astonishment he felt.
"It is not true," said Mrs. Raynor. "Grace told me only this noon that she loved Jack Woodson, and that they intended to be married in the fall, but that they did not want it generally known just yet."
"Then this scoundrel Walden has carried her off!" cried the farmer.
"Grace never wrote that letter," said the wife. "She is a truthful girl, and has told me often that she never loved any one but Jack, and to-day, as I told you, she said that she and Jack had fixed on the day for their wedding."
The farmer took the note, put on his glasses, and read it again, more carefully.
"It's her handwriting, as sure as I sit here," he said; "but that scoundrel has made her write it, and has carried her off."
"Grace would die sooner than write a lie," said the mother.
At that moment Jack Woodson entered the room.
"Where is Grace? What is this story I hear?" he asked excitedly.
The farmer handed him the note, which he read hurriedly and then tossed upon the floor.
"It's a lie! a false, cruel lie!" he cried. "My darling never wrote that—never could write it. It's the work of that villain, Walden. Do you know what I have just heard? Tom Walden was arrested on a charge of forgery in Chicago—would have gone to prison, for his conviction was certain, but jumped his bail, and fled. His name is not Walden at all. There is a man at the hotel who knows all about him, and described him this very hour. More than that, there is an old indictment against him in New York for murder. The plea was self-defence, and the case never came to trial. Now they have new evidence that he deliberately murdered the man. He was then known as Tom Walden. My Grace run away with a man like that! Never! He has carried her off, and has written this note himself to deceive us. He has stolen her, but I will pursue him and bring her back, if I have to kill him to do it!"
Then, without further words, he rushed from the house into the darkness.
The next morning he had disappeared, and no one knew where he had gone, nor for months did the settlers hear tidings of him or of Grace or of Tom Walden.
In one of the wildest parts of the Northwest woods an Indian village had been built.
There were no white settlers within many miles, and the tribe was said to be a peaceful one, never going on the warpath, and always treating with kindness the few straggling whites who made their way into this wilderness.
In one of the larger lodges of the village, one pleasant afternoon in the late autumn, were a man of about forty and a girl not much over twenty.
The girl's complexion was fair, and she had none of the characteristics of the Indian, although dressed like one.
The man was tall and swarthy, with long, black hair, which hung straight down upon his broad shoulders, his face was cruel and crafty, and his every look was evil.
He was dressed in half-savage, half-civilized style, wearing a fur cap, an embroidered hunting-shirt of buckskin, woolen trousers, heavy boots, and a red sash in which were thrust a brace of pistols and a knife.
"See here, Grace," he said to the girl who sat before him on a low couch of skins, "I haven't brought you here for nothing, and you must be my wife."
"Never, Tom Walden, or whatever your evil name is," said the girl. "Far from home and friends, among these wild and savage men, less pitiless than you are, I can still defy you. I will never be your wife!"
"These people are my allies," said Walden. "I have inflamed them against the whites, and they are ready to go on the warpath if I bid them. They will kill you as soon as any one, if I give the word, and I will if you do not consent to——"
"Never!" cried Grace, springing to her feet. "I doubt not that you have told many lies to account for my disappearance, since you dragged me from my home by your baseness. You are false enough to make war against your own people, but I do not fear you, no matter what you threaten. Kill me, if you will, and release me from my misery!"
"I've a mind to take you at your word!" cried Walden, seizing the girl by the wrist and raising his knife as if to strike.
The maiden never flinched; but at that moment an Indian youth sprang into the lodge and threw himself between the renegade and the girl.
"White man no strike the white flower!" he cried.
"Who are you?" growled the man, looking fixedly at the youth.
"Me Young Elk. Me live far off, me come to village, me have friend."
"Well, Mr. Young Elk, this is my squaw, and you will take yourself off and mind your——"
"Paleface lie! The white flower is not his squaw!" the young Indian replied.
"Get out of here!" hissed the renegade.
"No! Young Elk stay. White flower need friend. Me be her friend."
"Blame you!" hissed Walden. "We'll see if any mere boy can defy me! Out of the way, dog!"
"No," said the Indian. "Not while white flower stay. Young Elk be friend to white woman; bad paleface shall not strike."
"Thank you, my friend, but I fear him not," said Grace.
"I will conquer you yet!" hissed the renegade, as he rushed from the lodge, the Indian boy having stepped aside.
As soon as Walden had gone, Grace left the lodge and hurried into the forest, where she ran on till she reached a pool of water which made its way swiftly into a cave amid the great ledges of rock.
The spot was at some distance from the village, the trees grew thick and high, and the path between them was narrow and winding, and easily lost; but the girl had evidently been there before, for when she reached the opening in front of the pool she looked around her with an air of security.
Walden, leaving the lodge, went to the chiefs, whom he found gathered in council.
"Who is Young Elk?" demanded Walden.
"He is my kinsman," said one of the chiefs.
"He is a meddler!" snarled the renegade. "I will kill him if he does not take care!"
"No, False Heart will not!" cried the old chief. "False Heart lies, he has told crooked tales of the paleface, he is a bad man. He would make us go on the warpath when the whites have not wronged us. It is he who will have to take care lest Young Elk kill him!"
Inflamed with rage, Walden left the council and hurried into the forest. As he hurried along the narrow path he was followed by Young Elk.
Reaching the opening, Walden found Grace upon her knees at the edge of the pool. "I cannot bear to leave this bright world," she murmured, "but I could not bear the disgrace, the shame of being that man's wife! Oh! why is there no one to help me?"
"Die, if you will have it so!" cried the renegade, raising his hand to strike.
Upon the instant, the young Indian who had been trailing him, sprang forward, seized the renegade by the throat and hurled him into the pool.
"Grace, my darling!" he cried, taking the girl in his strong grasp and drawing her away.
"Jack! You!" she cried. "Then you are Young Elk?"
"No; he is my friend. He it was who found you here in the village, and told me, and none too soon. I have sought you in many places. The Indian boy who gave your father the letter forged by Walden confessed that the villain had taken you to some tribe far away, and I began my search. I went from tribe to tribe, finding you not, and at last met Young Elk, whose life I saved. He went with me from village to village, making inquiries, and here at last he found you. But what has become of that scoundrel?"
"The strong current must have carried him into yonder cave," said Grace. "The Indians say the stream never issues forth after leaving the light."
"Then the scoundrel has met his just reward for all his crimes," said Jack. "Come, I have found you, and now we will return, never to be parted again."
It is needless to say that Grace's parents were overjoyed at her safe return, and on the appointed day Jack and Grace became man and wife.
NEW YORK, FEBRUARY 4, 1921.
HOW TO SEND MONEY—At our risk send P. O. Money Order, Check or Registered Letter; remittances in any other way are at your risk. We accept Postage Stamps the same as cash. When sending silver wrap the Coin in a separate piece of paper to avoid cutting the envelope. Write your name and address plainly. Address letters to
HARRY E. WOLFF, Publisher
166 West 23d St., New York
Albert Forney of White Rapids, Wis., shot four bears recently. While out hunting he discovered a cub in what proved to be a winter den. He shot the cub and brought the mother charging down upon him. Another shot finished her. Forney then dispatched the two remaining cubs. Father Bruin escaped by flight.
Hilary Smith of Brooklyn was sent to jail the other day for six months and fined $35 on charges of carrying concealed weapons, drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Smith, who said he was a longshoreman, carried three big revolvers, three razors, two dirk knives, 200 rounds of ammunition, a marked deck of cards, a pair of loaded dice and two half pints of whisky. He was arrested at the Union Station, Washington, D. C., by detectives, who noticed the bulges in his clothing.
"I was getting along all right in New York and Brooklyn," he said in court, "until those cops up there got too inquisitive and I had to leave. Just the same I am a harmless man."
Running wild for two years, after being lost in the wilds of the Indian Creek Valley, Pa., by a Pittsburgh hunter, an Airedale dog attacked and injured James C. Munson, a well-known Connelsville man, who was hunting in that section of the country.
It was with difficulty that Munson beat off the dog, which tore his clothing and flesh in several places.
Only the whine of pups near by prevented Munson from killing the canine. Nine pups about six weeks old were taken by members of a posse which went into the mountains when the attack was reported by Munson. The mother dog was not seen, but hunters who have encountered the animal say she is as savage as any wolf they ever saw.
We cannot see in the dark because there is no light to see by. To understand this we must first understand that when we see a thing, as we generally say, we do not actually see the thing itself, but only the light coming from it. But we have become so used to saying that we see the thing itself that for all practical purposes we can accept that as true, although it is not scientifically exact. Scientifically speaking, we see that part of the sunlight or other light which is shining upon it which the object is able to reflect.
If there were no air about us, we could not hear any sounds, no matter how much disturbance people or things created, because it requires air to cause the sound waves which produce sound, and air also to carry the sound waves to our ears. In the same way, if there is no light to produce light rays from any given object to our eyes, we can see nothing. It requires light waves to produce the reflections of objects to our eyes. Without light our eyes and their delicate organs are useless. You cannot see yourself in a mirror when the quicksilver which was once on the back of the glass has been removed, because there is then nothing to reflect the light. We can only see things when there is light enough about to reflect things to our eyes. When it is dark there is no light, and that is the reason we cannot see anything in the dark.—Book of Wonders.
"I had an awful time with Amos last night." "Amos who?" "A mosquito."
"So you want to marry my daughter; what are your prospects?" "That is for you to say, sir; I am not a mind reader."
Sunday School Teacher—Is your papa a Christian, Bobby? Little Bobby—No'm. Not to-day. He's got a toothache.
Teacher—Now, Patsy, would it be proper to say, 'You can't learn me nothing?' Patsy—Yes'm. Teacher—Why? Patsy—'Cause yer can't.
"No, I can never be your wife." "What? Am I never to be known as the husband of the beautiful Mrs. Smith?" She succumbed.
"How do you distinguish the waiters from the guests in this cafe? Both wear full dress." "Yes, but the waiters keep sober!"
Albert Asker—Mamma, may I go out in the street? They say there's going to be an eclipse of the sun. Mrs. Asker—Yes, but don't go too near.
Teacher—What do we see above us when we go out on a clear day? Harry—We see the blue sky. "Correct, and what do we see above us on a rainy day?" "An umbrella."
Mother—I gave you a nickel yesterday to be good, and to-day you are just as bad as you can be. Willie—Yes, ma I'm trying to show you that you got your money's worth yesterday.
Judson T. Logan, of Leverette, Mass., and members of his family overlooked the family cat, "Chum," when they made a hurried escape from their burning home the other day. But "Ted," their big St. Bernard, remembered.
The dog discovered the absence of his playmate, rushed back through the smoke and soon reappeared with "Chum" in his mouth.
Incidentally the Logans, as well as the other occupants of another apartment in the house gave the dog credit for awakening them by barking, so they reached the street before their escape was cut off by the flames.
A remarkable case of overpopulation is that of the Island of Bukara, in Lake Victoria Nyanza, described by H. L. Duke in the Cornhill Magazine. This island, with an area of 36 square miles, much of which is bare granite, though isolated from the rest of the world, supports a population of 19,000. The small garden plots are carefully marked off and rights of ownership are rigidly observed. Trees are valued more than the land on which they grow. In some cases one man owns the trees and another the ground. A man must not steal his neighbor's leaves, sticks and rubbish. A father may even divide a tree among his children, allotting certain branches to each.
Thomas Kelley, a farmhand in Paradise, Kan., 60 years old, has just received a present that belonged to anybody until a few days ago.
Kelley has been working in this community as a farmhand for some years. Near Paradise is the Worley ranch, consisting of several thousand acres. It has been the opinion of all that Worley owned all the land. Kelley began an investigation and discovered that eighty acres near the center of the ranch never had been homesteaded.
He immediately took up the matter with the Topeka land office and is now practically the owner of the farm, worth approximately $5,000. The land is in the heart of a rich and fertile valley, noted for raising wheat. Most of the farm is under cultivation.
Kelley will improve the land at once and will erect a house to live in.
Girl students at the Randolph-Macon Institute, part of the Southern Methodist institution, Danville, Va., have been told in blunt terms they must wear their stockings as their mothers taught them and not in conformity with fashion's latest edict, which provides for the rolling process and knee lengths.
From sources of unquestioned authority comes word that within the last few days the faculty of teachers were called together and served what was little short of an ultimatum to the student body. Failure to comply will be met with severe reprisals.
It is alleged and not contradicted, that certain young sophomores who cling to college traditions have been "rolling their own" with ruthless disregard to feet and meters. The students have accepted the order with philosophy.
Useful, Instructive, and Amusing. They Contain Valuable Information on Almost Every Subject
No. 24. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO GENTLEMEN.—Containing full instructions for writing to gentlemen on all subjects.
No. 25. HOW TO BECOME A GYMNAST.—Containing full instructions for all kinds of gymnastic sports and athletic exercises. Embracing thirty-five illustrations. By Professor W. Macdonald.
No. 26. HOW TO ROW, SAIL AND BUILD A BOAT.—Fully illustrated. Full instructions are given in this little book, together with instructions on swimming and riding, companion sports to boating.
No. 27. HOW TO RECITE AND BOOK OF RECITATIONS.—Containing the most popular selections in use, comprising Dutch dialect, French dialect, Yankee and Irish dialect pieces, together with many standard readings.
No. 28. HOW TO TELL FORTUNES.—Everyone is desirous of knowing what his future life will bring forth, whether happiness or misery, wealth or poverty. You can tell by a glance at this little book. Buy one and be convinced.
No. 29. HOW TO BECOME AN INVENTOR.—Every boy should know how inventions originated. This book explains them all, giving examples in electricity, hydraulics, magnetism, optics, pneumatics, mechanics, etc.
No. 30. HOW TO COOK.—One of the most instructive books on cooking ever published. It contains recipes for cooking meats, fish, game, and oysters; also pies, puddings, cakes and all kinds of pastry, and a grand collection of recipes.
No. 31. HOW TO BECOME A SPEAKER.—Containing fourteen illustrations, giving the different positions requisite to become a good speaker, reader and elocutionist. Also containing gems from all the popular authors of prose and poetry.
No. 32. HOW TO RIDE A BICYCLE.—Containing instructions for beginners, choice of a machine, hints on training, etc. A complete book. Full of practical illustrations.
No. 35. HOW TO PLAY GAMES.—A complete and useful little book, containing the rules and regulations of billiards, bagatelle, backgammon, croquet, dominoes, etc.
No. 36. HOW TO SOLVE CONUNDRUMS.—Containing all the leading conundrums of the day, amusing riddles, curious catches and witty sayings.
No. 38. HOW TO BECOME YOUR OWN DOCTOR.—A wonderful book, containing useful and practical information in the treatment of ordinary diseases and ailments common to every family. Abounding in useful and effective recipes for general complaints.
No. 39. HOW TO RAISE DOGS, POULTRY, PIGEONS AND RABBITS.—A useful and instructive book. Handsomely illustrated.
No. 40. HOW TO MAKE AND SET TRAPS.—Including hints on how to catch moles, weasels, otter, rats, squirrels and birds. Also how to cure skins. Copiously illustrated.
No. 41. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK END MEN'S JOKE BOOK.—Containing a great variety of the latest jokes used by the most famous end men. No amateur minstrels is complete without this wonderful little book.
For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to anyaddress on receipt of price, 10c. per copy, inmoney or stamps, by
FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher,168 West 23d Street,New York.