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> [A BRIE!! f < BY ELLA MIDDI Author of' "Tlno Sirui5jcler ALL RIGHTS . Coryrtshf. :x.) by J. H. LIPPINl CHAPTER V. 0 Continued. "Read it," she said, 'and judge for yourself." Deal- Auntie?Sit right down on the nearest chair before you read this, and prepare to be shocked. 1 am going to be married tonight at the Little Church Around the Corner. We had to do it this Way because you would not have consented. for you never appreciated him. I know he hasn't any money; I know he has no prospect of ever having very much; I know he is nothing remarkable in any way and probably never will be. ' But 1 know, too, that none of these things matter, for I love him. I'm not ungrateful for all your care of me, and I'm very, very sorry if I hurt you by doing this. But. oh, dearest Auntie, some time you will understand why I couldn't help it. Of course you "know who it is. Lovingly, N AXCY. P. S. Don't bother about sending word to Philadelphia. I've written to Dad myself. . As I folded the letter her favorite remark occurred to me. Ah, Nancy Welles, /sometimes girls as well as men were foolish! Aunt Josephine was wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, and to .. this day I remember the pattern of ; the lace edge. "I thought it was Mr. Casey," she quavered. "He came so often, aud she liked him." "Perhaps," I suggested, "she has gone home?to Philadelphia." Mrs. Robinson shook her head. "I telegraphed my brother last night, and worded it diplomatically. I said, 'A most oojecnunauit: tuaim,ter loves Nancy. What shall I do?' I received his answer this^ morning." "What did he say?" ''He sai<J> Mr. Leigh, 'Let the man po to the dfevil and send Nancy home.' So I knew she wasn't there already, and also that she has not written." My prospective father-in-law appeared to be a man of action, and I determined to avoid him for a while If possible. Aunt Josephine was now sniffling audibly. "Where is she? . Where is she? And if she would go off and get married, why didn't she say whom she was going to marry? Although," she V ) ? finished reflectively, "if I had him here this moment I think I should kill him without waiting for my [-* brother." The latter clause prevented me from putting into effect a half-formed * resolution to make a clean breast of the whole matter and cast myself upon Aunt Josephine's sympathy. When we reached the brownstone front that had hitherto been so irresistible to me, I steadily declined many invitations to enter, for in spite of her former belligerent attitude Aunt Josephine now showed a dis? position to cling to me that was flattering but inconvenient. But I wanted to be alone. I wanted to overcome the strange apprehension that overwhelmed me and set my nerves jumping like a woman's? to think calmly and, if possible, to act quickly. It was imperative that something should be done, and there seemed to be no one else to do it, since Casey was at present incapacitated. Anyhow, I was sure my methods would be more efficacious than his, and that he would some day acknowledge I was quite justified in , . changing places with him. Ao t hoaH thp rtnnr clnse I elanced at the next house. The shades were closely drawn and the silence that enveloped it seemed ominous. I thought of Miss Harriet Schuyler going confidingly forth to find her nephew and not returning. And of Starr?a good fellow, as we all knew, hut quick-tempered and prone to act upon Impulse; Starr, who was my friend, and was missing. T {f r- rnnmc XUAfP watched and thought ii very probable that they were, yet felt irresistibly Impelled to return to them. Then I remembered that Casey was known to be there. I was about his size, and the dark raincoat and soft gray hat I wore had gone out of there that morning: why should they not return with safety? So I went home, trying to walk with the careless freedom of one who has a right to be abroad, but much inclined to slink around corners and evade the public eye. * I had committed no crime, but to be under suspicion and "wanted" at headquarters certainly gives one a very weird and unnatural feeling. 1*7 V* at* T roo^.Vio/1 mtr n f n m i 1 i q r door I tumbled at the lock, dropping the key and starting guiltily as it fell upon the hall floor. Once inside I breathed more freely and looked around eagerly. Each dingy, defaced article o? furniture seemed like a personal friend waiting to welcome me. and even the cracked mirror on the dresser appeared homeiike and cozy. 1 J Kmnlv t n a T-f i a;ujjjjtu iniijjjj <ju mc ucu. iiu" could I ever have reviled that mattress as hard and lumpy? It was 6urelv made of down, and I would rest there while 1 considered what ibo do. Soon a strange lassitude overcame mr. I could see through the window the vista oi#chimneys and small bit of sky with which I was so familiar; I could hear the stead? drip, drip, drip, of the melting snow as it fell trom the roof, and could even count the drops as they passed the window, put I could not move, could not think, rould not even remember why i was there, nor what bad happened. I knew in a hazy, indistinct manner fl?at something very valuable to me Kvas lost, and determined to get up and find it in a moment. I wondered why the place was so strangely quiet, end listened for Starr's whistle, or the laugh that Usually punctuated Randy's conversation. The melting snow dripped on and I counted the drops?one, two, three, lour, five, six, seven. I hesitated and OR CASEY. 3 -ETON TYBOL'T, "Poketuwii People,'' Eto. D .... s resi.rvfDh D??? " ,'OTT COM}'ANY, PlilltOelphla Ta. ^ began again?one, two. three, four? one, two, three I lost count entirely here, for nature demanded relief and the sleep of utter exhaustion overcame me. I slept heavily, but not restfully. for out of an abyss of darkness I heard Nancy calling, but could not go to her. I saw her hand stretched toward me, but could not reach It; she beckoned and I could not follow. Then, quite suddenly, the beckoning, appealing hand was raised in denunciation. It was no longer Nancy whom I loved, but Julia Smith, from whom I had escaped, whose voice I heard; and on the threatening hand of Julia Smith I [ aaw iiij A CHAPTER VI. I slept on through the arternoon .and far into the night, waking finally to fnd myself sitting upright, listening with strained attention and every nerve on the alert. How still it was, and how dark! I groped for matches, hut. not finding them, fell back upon the pillows, gazing into the blackness with wideopen eyes, bnt with no desire for dawn. For although I had slept profoundly I had not rested, and the sudden return to consciousness found me unprepared to meet the light of day and be once more up and doing. I heard the ticking of my watch and the gnawing of a mouse in the wainscot. My room was at the back, so the noise of the street reached me but faintly at the best of times, and to-night they seemed to have ceased entirely. Surely none of these things liad waked me. Then I sat upright again and listened, for T distinctly heard a sound. I knew the next room was empty, for It belonged to Starr, and he was missing. Could it be, I wondered, that he too had come home unchallenged, as I had done, though "wanted" even more than I? Where were the matches? I searched my pockets, although I knew they were empty, then carefully felt aloni?'4 the wall until my fingers touched the door between the rooms, moving cautiously that I might make no noise. The door, usually sociably open, was closed, but as my fingers touched it I hesitated. I knew it was not locked, for Starr had lost the key and never replaced it; nevertheless as my hand closed upon the latch I paused. For I heard again the sound in the next room and this time I recognized it: it was the swish of silk caused by a woman's skirts. I did not open the door. I could not, for something restrained me. Try as I would, I could not force myself to turn the knob. I could only listen with strained attention and wait breathless for developments. But nothing developed. There was silence in Starr's worn now?the deep silencc that succeeds unwary movement. And so I lost my opportunity. At last the gray light of morning broke. Little by little objects became discernible, and the rattling of many milk-carts announced the arrival of another day. Then, and not till then, I opened Starr's door and went in. Call it cowardice if you will. I only knew that with the rustle of that silken skirt came a peculiar lethargy. I could not act, could not move, could not even think clearly. As Casey impressed upon me afterwards, I could do nothing but be an unmitigated chump, who might have saved us all a lot of trouble but flunked because of a worn an s sKirts. it was no use explaining to him the psychology of Unseen Presences. That was tied Is Casey's opinion, and It will probably remain unchanged in spite of arguments. Just inside Starr's door I paused. The room was exactly as usual. Over the back of a chair a coat was carelessly flung, and the customary row of neckties hung from the gas fixture. Starr's slippers were beside the bed, and his brushes were in their accustomed place upon the dressing table. Mechanically I advanced and touched one of them. Everything was so unreal of late that I almost expected it to vanish into thin air, but the silver and bristles remained intact. Something else remained also ?something I had not seen when I first lifted the brush. Caught in the bristles was a small comb that I knew Starr had never used. and to it clung two long, brown, curling hairs. The comb was what Nancy had once referred to as a "side comb." It lay confidingly nestling in Starr's brush, almost as though it had a right to do so. Nevertheless, I sternly removed it. Gold-mounted side-combs had no place on Starr's dresser, so far as I knew. Holding it in my hand, I stared stupidly, trying to extract Eome information from its mere presence. Did Aunt Harriet, I wondered, use Stair's brush before she vanished so strangely? But no, those curling brown tendrils were young hairs? something about them proclaimed this fact almost boastfully. Meanwhile the morning wore on. The house on the floors below me awoke and went about its customary avocations, and a faintness within me recalled the forgotten fact that I had had no dinner the night before and that breakfast was necessary. I looked anxiously in Starr's mirror. Would the police, I speculated, realize I was not the same man they met in those rooms yesterday? I was about Casey's build; we both had brown hair, siuooth faces, and our features were not distinctive. For the first time I was glad he had bought clothes much like mine (although at the time 1 had resented his doing so), because Nancy had said she liked them. There was also . Mrs. Stubbs to be faced and reckoned with, aDd I had no doubt Casey himself would in some manner communicate with me. It was probable be was uncomfortable both mentally and physically, even as I had been the preceding morning. And I was not yet ready to communicate with him. | I plunged my face and head into cold water, and felt better. "One thing at a time." I told myself. and determined to brave Mrs. Stubbs boldly in her own apartments in the basement. I did not have to do so, however, for even as I opened the door to descend the stairs, I heard the worthy woman lumbering up. puffing like an | exhausted porpoise long before she j reached the top. I tried to assume my usual manner, but felt an overwhelming inclination to be suave and flattering to Mrs. Stubbs and accord i her every deference. Much lay with- . in her power if she chose to exert it, and I felt weakened and servile before her. She entered, arms akimbo. "Now, Mr. Casey," she began. T turned desperately and faced ! her. Better get the worst over at I once. Mrs. Stubbs lifted both hands \ with a gesture of consternation. "Am I myself," she gasped, "or as I dreamin'?" "Mrs. Stubbs," I entreated, "be j calm." Mrs. Stubbs emitted a sound be-1 tween a gasp and a gurgle. "Yesterday," she said, "you was ( Mr. Casey, as I'm a livin* woman. | To-day you're yerself and no other." ; Then I plunged desperately. "Mrs. Stubbs," I said, with assur- j ance, "pray be calm. I am exactly f the same p?rson I was yesterday. Am i I not always myself?" ! She had no appropriate answer, and ; I continued fluently: "Yesterday, during the unfortunate excitement that prevailed here, you j were too much excited to realize what j you said or to really recognize any i one. I have always been myself and j never at any time Mr. Casey." Her lower jaw settled into a dog- ' ged expression that boded ill. "You was Mr. Casey yesterday, that! T?, x n swear. "Woman," I said, determined to | bully lier into subjection, "be silent. Don't yon know that Mr. Casey is , in prison? How dare you charge me with his crime? I'll sue you for ! libel." Mrs. Stubbs had made no charge, i but merely stated facts as she knew them. Nevertheless, she dropped 1 cowering into a chair and threw her apron over her face. "I'm a decent woman," she wailed, j "I'm honest, I am, and never have I i had to deal with policemen before. | And I do say, and will say, that the goings on of you young gentlemen is j something scandalous. And I hereby give you notice. And I'd like my ' rent, which it hasn't been paid this : long time." Mrs. Stubbs paused for breath, then ( renewed the attack. "Poor dear! With her purple vel vet ana wnite reamer, as connain as > could be. 'It's my nephew,' Bays sho, 'what I ain't seen this many a year,' says she. 'I'll go right up,' snys she.; And go she did?me p'intin' out the | way and he:' walkin' to her doom. Oh, dear!" I advanced to Mrs. Stubbs and look her hand in mine. It was a horny j hand, much roughened by honest | toil, but never have I more tenderly ! pressed the softest dimpled hand of my experience. I had suddenly determined to try her with moral sua- j sion. "Mrs. Stubbs," I said, with gently ! modulated 7oice, "believe me, I feel , deeply for you. I can well under- j stand what this must be to one of i your sensitive nature." Ey the swift indrawing of her ; breath I knew she was listening. "I regret deeply," I continued, ; "that you should have been so an- j noyed. But surely you do uot believe : tho charges made." "Where are '-hey?" whispered Mrs. i Stubbs, looking fearfully about, as ' though she expected them to come ' through the ceiling. j "Mr. Casey, Mrs. Stubbis, is lin- j gulshing in a prison cell and has been ; since yesterday. I do not lenow why J you contused me with mm. sureiy [ yen read the papers and what they : said. I don't know where Ferguesson I and Starr are?I wish I did." I npoke truly enough there; I very ! much wanted to know their where- | abouts. To *e Continued. . , Ute nnd Ornament. Mr. Xewrich, the Ptttabur* multimillionaire, w&b ft\mi?hlag the lib- I rary of his mnsni9cer>t mansfon. ' Let me see," he ma?*d. "Toa've , get the o'der for the JSMOO edition ! de luxe of Dickon* bounfl in levant?" i "Yes. sir," replied the bookseller. ! "And the $10,000 set of Shakes pea.ru: I "Yes, sir." "And the standard ar.tborp, bound : in calf, Thackeray, Scolt, Washington Irving, Cooper, and all '.ham there other fellersi?" "Yes, sir, I have a memorandum \ of the entire lis-." "Well, then, that's off my mind," J said Mr. Newricb, of Pittsburg, with j a sigh of relief. "Now, what I want > is something to read. Say, have you i got a complete set of " 'Old i Sleuth?' "?New York Times. Japanese Laborers in Mcvlce. As a laborer the Japanere has i ceased to figure i:i the future of Mox- j icar. industry. It is believed Tlie j policy of the Japanese Government, , announced some time ago, of forbid- j ding the emigration of the laborer o? ! that country to Mexico wlli be con- J tinued for rnanv yoars to come and j that the administration of the policy ' will be such as to render the emb*rfo j absolutely effective. ? The Mexican j Herald. Out of ISriS bogging letters received in London by a chnritabl* association, eighty-seven per cent. w#re found to have come from rwindlers, and of the remaking thirt#en per cent, only five per cent, were found to be really destitute. Of the 63,453 Chintse admitted into the Transvaal only 17,000 are still there. IN THE PI AGED EX-EMPI She has just announced the coin] published after her death. They are < Holder For Cuffs. The length of coat or shirt sleeve makes little difference in the set of a cuff that is held in place by the holder invented by a California man. The holder is a metal plate with a slot in it just large enough for the shank of a sleeve button to past! through. At one end is an enlargedl space to admit the head of the button, and it is equipped with a slid auie member which can be adjusted at any point to engage the button and hold the whole affair firmly. The other end of the holder can be attached to the cuff proper. As will be readily understood, a cuff fastened to the shirt with this device may be adjusted to any point on the wrist, so that the length of the short coat sleeve can be made to look: not quite so short by keeping the cuff from protruding too far below it, and thus calling attention to the discrepancy. ?Washington Sta.r. The French Seeker of the South Pole. Dr. Charcot has been for many months in the Antarctic, and is ex pected "by the French to reach the southernmost extremity of the globe, although the English say he cannot possibly do so. Folding Ironing Board. A folding ironing board that has other advantages besides its collapslbilitv has been devised by a Pennsylvania man. This board in not only a saver of space, but it is especially 1 nsuc EYE. i. '^tfl i jMl^^Kiii ' > f-ft ^jtg 31" ^^BjpjhjMrv, j , NHBBgH^I^^SAx: - ISStSHBIl|fle^?Mj^?l|HqgJp -.:^9 HHnM^s HHy^HnMjyyraHRM^' CJiSb Jti U LrtiiN IJCj, pletion of her memoirs, which will ho expected to create a sensation. Why Protect the Bee Martin? One of the protected birds is the bee martin, or kingbird. Bee raisers are at a loss to understand why it should be protected in a bee country, because it makes terrific inroads on the swarms. Captain Dixon, of Flushing, lives next to a man who has a hive of bees. He told Tip recently of the work of one martin. The captain, who was sitting on his side porch, noticed that the bees seemed unduly excited. Suddenly a bee martin swooped down, caught one of the little honey-makers, flew to a neighboring telephone pole and ate it. That was repeated many times, the captain keeping tabs." The count showed that in the course of one short afternoon the martin caught and ate more than fifty of the bees.? New York Press. Washboard Improvement. The washboard appears in a new form in an invention which has recently been perfected in the shape of a washing macnine witnout any ui the usual mechanism of levers and wheels. It consists of but two parts working together and the clothes between, and is designed particularly for use in stationary washtubs, but is equally serviceable in portable tubs. With the water on a level with the base, the soaped pieces are spread thereon when, with the addition of an inch or two or boiling water, the segmental rubber is oscillated back and forth twenty or thirty times. This action forces the water and soap or other alkaline ingredients through the interstices of the goods. It is said to be especially serviceable in large pieces such as blankets, cur tains, rugs, etc. When operated in stationary tubs there is the added convenience of hot and cold water, and the discharge of waste without carrying the water, and as the two parts may be left in the tub after use, no extra room is required.?Washington Star. Food For the Gods. "That girl must think I'm made of money." "What's the matter?" "I invited her to a little lunch after the theatre and I'll be hanged if she didn't order pork chops."?Detroit Free Press. I adapted for the ironing of skirts or circular garments. It consists of two supports hinged upon the stand so that they fold in upon*it. One of these supports is in one piece and the other, at the broad end of the board, is double. On this latter section, the board moves on a pivot so that the narrow end may be swung clear of the single support and rest on the double uprights. This leaves the end of the board free and a skirt may be drawn over it without wrinkling or presenting otherdifficulties to smooth work. Iron rods hold the device firmly in position when it is in use, but when not in use it can be folded into a small compass and stowed away ju a turner ui a uuoci. *< io also constructed so that the bracing means do not interfere with the work. ?Washington Star. Wheat exports of this country ara declining because the home consumption is increasing. The Mexican porter handles load of 400 pounds with ease. -At .. ' ? 7 : I**; ~ 1V '"^V ??? I i t I ill IN GERMAN SAMOA. | ^r. Hans Busing Tells of Present Conditions in and Around Apia. Dr. Hans Busing, a German lawyer who went to Apia, Samoa, about ;ight months ago to practice his profession, reached New York recently in his way back to Germany. Dr. Busing, who bears several scars as souvenirs of his university days, says :hat life out there is rather dull, but ifter a little vacation at home he is ;oing back. "There hasn't been any trouble in Samoa for about a year and a half," said Dr. Busing at the Gotham yes'.erday. "That was when some of the :hiefs had started an uprising and several German war vessels came jver from China and thd chiefs in question were taken away to the Marshall Islands. "King Mata'afa is still living in Apia. He has a sort of court about im?secretaries and attendants?in what is called out of courtesy a palir.e. He aDnears to be about seventy pears old and give the impression of great nobility of character. He is much honored by our Government. [ do not expect any trouble to arise in Samoa in the future, but if Lt ever does come it will be when Mata'afa dies. The natives acknowledge him is king and have the utmost respect for him. His death will be a serious matter. "A great many Australians and New Zealanders are coming into Samoa, as well as Germans, both as traders and planters, the majority {taking up cocoa planting. This has | proved very profitable so far, most of tne proauci Demg smppeu uj aub- i tralia, though a good deal goes to | Germany. At the same time, in spite J of the influx of white men, I should say there are not more, than 300 of them in Apia and vicinity, and in German Samoa not more than 500 at the outside. There are about 35,000 natives. There are too many little shops in Apia to make stcre-keeping very profitable. "Life in Samoa is far from exciting ?hardly interesting. There are no oands, no entertainments or games, and the principal amusement and recreation is in horseback riding. There is now no passenger line by which you can come from Samoa direct to the United States. There is one American cargo line that makes a stop at Apia on the way to Austra.ia, but it does not stop on the way back. To get here I had to take a boat for the Fiji Islands, and I had to stop at Suva for a whole week be? T u ? TTn(^n lUor frtT* [Ore 1 CUU1U LaiYC a uuiuu nuvi ivi Vancouver and ihence go to San Francisco by train. There is no German steamship line that carries passengers running out there. Of course the climate is one of the most delightful you can find anywhere, but when you arc out there you feel as if you are very much off the beaten path of travel." I Hope of Consumptives. It is not surprising that certain interests in the milk business would be the first to find fault with the educacion crusade against consumption that is now waging all over Christendom. Tip accepts it for a fine sign how well the public is taking hold and getting wise when a milkman arose in the Associated .Dairymen's convention in Washington the other day and said the crusade in Iowa State was not only scaring some folk into consumption, but was rapidly scaring consumptives to death. According to this speaker, the vivid and realistic methods of showing up the disease in Iowa naa aouDiea me aeaiu rate from the disease in one year. Rot! Any one who knows much about consumptives knows full well that most of them?as an effect of the disease upon the brain?believe up to the very moment of death that they have some mild lung or bronchial trouble, and that they will certainly get well, and, while all consumptives are not thus blinded, most of them are. Tho "spes phthisica," the hope of the consumptive, fs inseparable from the disease, and no amount of realistic object lessons is going to change this fanciful state.?Tip, in the New York Press. Hogarth's Moving Pictures. Hogarth was a great, good teacher, and many a thoughtless man has been cured of vice by gazing on the fearful, I moving pictures in the "Rake's J Progress," and its sinful companion | series. Some natural intellects are | able without any teaching to know and shun deadly diseases and evils; some are able to accept them from vague and abstract warnings, bul most can be made fearful or careful of the duty which they owe themselves or to'their fellows only by horrible examples. Yet the majority ol men, taking them the world over, are so brutally ignorant and selfisb and swinish that, despite all knowl- I edge by example or precept, they will : deliberately wallow and wallow again ! in deadly diseased mire. Neverthe- | less the world's improvement from j vice and disease comes from the edu- | catcd, scientific, fearful minority, bul j blessed-wise their numbers are in- j creasing faster to-day than ever in . history before, and why? Because oi j an awakened and more and more en- | lightened journalism.?Tip, in the New York Press. Teaching ,4Touch Not." nf Pnric u-as one of the greatest physicians and philosophers who ever blessed humanity. Huntei and he studied r.nd uncovered and ' made plain the mystery of a worse i catching disease than consumption. | Ricord had thousands upon thousand? I of cases, and this blessed old satanie | saint ofttimes said: "That disease and man's self-control getting rid of ' it was the true beginning and cause ! of morality." If -there is any truth in his saying, then consider the awful, the measureless responsibility of those te=rhers of the public who have the true knowledge of vice and disease, yet run a mere school of scandal j instead of teaching "touch not" and a School of Penalties to the ignorant and innocent.?Tio, in the New York Pj'PfiS. ' ' -.t >'. -.?I O^?"^?^?^^?^,?^?^? ?^?^?-^?^?^?-^?^y? "Castle and City Builders?RoadMakers." In his recent address upon "Th? World Movement," at the Uniyerslty; of Berlin, Theodore Roosevelt analyzed in the following striking" phrase the activities of those early, rulers upon whom devolved the task of laying the foundation for the civilization of Germany as well as Western Europe: "They were castle-builders, cJj%~ founders?road-makers." j To-day the first two qualifications have been modified into commercial and industrial variants. The last is absolutely unchanged. Road-making underlies the sheer existence, in an intensified degree the progress, of the entire social fabric of our day, as decisively as it did the first faint stirrings of civilization in Western Europe or the splendid structures reared by the Greeks and the Romans?still further back, the Egyptians. At every stage wherein humanity has recorded an advancement, whether in the stone-age or in the twentieth century, road-making has walked hand in hand with the trail-blazers,, hand in hand with those that followed in their steps and amplified, the work begun by their endeavors. Europe has not been slow in realising and materializing the principle. ' The highways of practically every* old-world country are the delight and .. the envy of the American tourist, who watches the swift .touring car glide by the wagon in which the peasant is transporting his product to the city market. That is one radical respect in wjfich Europe takes precedence of the msty and intelligent new world. > The small and large farmer of the old countries pays no ruinous tire tax, no exorbitant tribute to mud and the god of delay. His products, measure for measure, are worth often twice as much as those of the American farmer,' because? He can get them .to the buyer, or to the railroad, at expense beside mViirh tho Qimilnr Math In America is | mountainous. In another direction, also, the good roads wisdom of Europe has given its people superiority over America. With negligible exceptions, the old world is thickly settled. There are few waste places. Every arable inch, figuratively speaking, is occupied. There are few wide, vacant, fertile areas clamoring vainly for the hoe and the plow and the reaper. The reason is elemental. Good roade is a paramount issue in Europe. They take it as a matter of course, as they do the government, or the coming of Sunday, or'the necessity oi buying coal and clothing and food. Trunk lines bisect kingdom and empire, republic and duchy.' ; Good roads and their building is a fine science in Europe. It has been so since civilization unfurled its pennants. War, pestilence,, famine, panic have not been allowed to interfere with its steady maintenance, for the reason that the people and their leaders knew that the issue was the lifeblood of any people, any country, any system. /. The ripened wisdom of Europe reproaches the Bhort-sighted neglefet of America, and calls to lis for revoluflnnorv r?Vioncr?? (.iVUUi J VUMMDv. In America, our forefathers built R staunchly the foundations of civillza- I tion. Since then we have strength- B ened each separate stone, but one? Q Until recently we have ignored' I good roads! H To-day, in every American State,. H the whole population, farmer and I city man, pay blackmail to mud, to* I ruts, to impassability?to no roads at I We enhance the cost of living, we I paralyze development, we perpetuate the waste places and stunt the na- H tional wealth by making highway H construction dependent upon haphaz- B ard and casual practices, rather thai* B upon systematic, generous and con- I tinual appropriations and methods. I In Georgia, we have recorded ai> B awakening. But we are yet a long B way, here and throughout the Nation,. B from what that mature philosophy B - - - i- il. -i~.nl-.. H wiiicii gives siaDiiuy iu ue uivnidation of Europe and which rebukes-our own boasted supremacy.?Atlanta j Constitution. I . To Avoid as Well as Cure. The crusade against consumption is not undertaken chiefly to save consumptives?that must come later, but to prevent youth, infancy, ignorance) poverty and to prevent you and your# and me and mine from catching iA The burnt child dreads the firej.but i2 most children did not get Jftghtlj burnt, and so learn the teachments1 of the law of natural consequences* then they would be burning up themselves and everything around them all the time. The day draweth nigh H when no man can say, as so many-now H can, "Ignorance of this disease de- H stroyed me, ate me, consumed me, H burnt me up alive." "Certainly, physlcians, for all their knowledge, catch consumption and other diseases and H die of them," some will say, "so H what's the use?" But considering Hj how much they are exposed, they faro BE far better than doctors formerly did. H ?Tip, in the New York Press. Hard on the Eyesight. ^9 Looking into the lire, particularly a coal fire, is very injurious to the eyes. The stimulus of fire and heat Bfl united soon destroys the eyes. Look- MB I ing at molten iron will soon destroy | the sigh'. Reauing In the twilight is injurious to the eyes, as they are obliged to make great exertion. Reading or HI sewing with a side light injures the Hj^ eyes, as both eyes should be exposed flfl to an equal degree of light. Tho H| reason is the sympathy between the eyes is so great that if the pupil of one ove is dilated by being kept partr'^'ly in the shade the eye that is exliosed cannot contract itself sufficiently for protection and will ultimately Bj be injured.?British Health Review. H|