Indianapolis Journal, Volume 52, Number 5, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 January 1902 — Page 22

OLL TITK INDIANAPOLIS .TOÜI?NAL, SUNDAY, JANUARY 5. 1002.

all '?, r count ri- having rurch i.c"'i the vrhoir i.r a jirt of u,c railway. Dr. A. V.;i !. r I.jiti. a railroad xp rt, who recently m tfl an invtstl.itk n of the various systems of control, say that it if di:!kult ; to prove that the ystems of thee two conn- j tr'i are more nic: nt than of the others. , IIowvr. American travtVr s.:y that the j American and Kuplish railways oul lu ! comfort ami comtr.itr.ee. j

The Trade and I .ah or Oonsrc-s of dmad. which recently held it seventeenth j für.ual session in Erar.tforJ. Ont., acToptM j the following resolution concerning the Chinese: "That, whereas the 'Jhir.cse ami Japanese exclusion acts p-ssm1 by tn? IJritNh 'oIumr.i.L I.is'-irurn hivf been ! is j llo'.v d hr the Dominion soy nim-nt. and whore as j white labor Is bein? drivn out of tluit ; province by this class of el.eap fortit;u l.i bor, bo It therefore resolved that we ü - , rnand the fstati!i.hment of a $-"io per capita j tax on all Chinese entering Canada, be- ( li"ving that this will rem civ the evil to t t.ome extent, tut realizing that trw true solution of the-iiroblem is the enforcement ; c-f a minimum wae per hour, which will lore employers ot labor to pay the same wages to all workinsmen, irrc-:ec live of race or color." During the past year four members of the executive board of the X.'nited Mine "Workers have resigned to accept other positions. The board members who resigned are John Fahey and lienjamin James, of the anthracite district; Fred Dilcher. of Ohio, and James IJoston. of 1111rols. Fa hey resigned to retain the presidency of his district, James resigned to accept a position with a tobacco tirm. Dilcher took a position with the Standard Oil Company, and Uoston. who resigned a few days Co, will bo employed by a coal company. The?e resignations reduce the membership of the board to five. However, this will be of little consequence, as tho new board of twenty-four members will assume the executive responsibilities of the I'nited Jline Workers after the convention in this city on Jan. 1U XXX The painter?, bricklayers, planerer?, paper hangers, plumbers. electricians, lathers and all building laborers, with the exception of the steamfitters and helpers, of Worcester, Mass., have established the eight-hour workday. The successful unions are assisting the steamfitters and helpers and have already donated Jö.lm) for their benefit. xxx The longshoremen's strike at New Orleans has been settled, the grain trimmers receiving an advance and the old scale re.mainln? in effect, as applied to all other divisions of work. The trimmers now receive " cents an hour for day work. 75 cents an hour at night and $t an hour on Sunday. Their work is hazardous and requires much skill. They distribute the grain dumped into vessels through a chute iu such a manner as to keep the vessel well balanced. Sometimes the grain comes down in a stream and the workmen. being unable to handle it, are covered up and often suffocated. It is said that the boss sraln trimmer, who must be an expert, never sees the deck until the load Is finished and then it 1 nn exception if the vessel cots one-half inch to one side. The National Moot and Shoemakers' Union organized sixteen big factories in the month of September, gaining1 two thousand members. xxx The lumber handlers of L03 Angeles, Cal., grained a nine-hour day without asking for it. XXX French labor organizations are discussing the advisability of a general strike In favor of the minors. The miners arc asking an eight-hour day and a superannuation benefit of two franca (4J cents) for men who have been engaged In mining twenty-rive years. LOCATED GRANT'S TOMB. IVhy It AVn Tlnced nt niverslde Instead of in Centrnl I'nrk. Philadelphia Tress. John D. Crimmins. of New York, who has i i i - k. ja . m Order of St. Gregory the Great of the Civil Class, by Pope L.eo XIII, is responsible more than any other man for keeping the Grant memorial out of Central Park and building it on the crest of ltiverslde drive. Mr. Crimmins was president of the Park 'ommls?ion when General Grant died at Mount McGregor, and was consulted by Mayor Grace when the body, according to the dying wish of the general, was taken to New York for burial. The site most favored by Mayor Grace and others was a high bluff at the northwest corner of the park, fronting on Kighth avenue, Riverside drive, then known as Ciaremont. was a desolate ,wa3te. The only thinfr that made it at tractive at all to Now Yorkers was a roadhouse, in which th late "Ed" Stokes was Interested at the time, and a comfortable piac.e for refreshments at the turning around place of an afternoon drive. Mr. Crimmins was an early prophet of the uptown movement that has 312 ce carried en Columbia University along with it. lie tsrged this point on the mayor and others, with little effect in chaneinz their oDinion that Central Park was the most littlnß ; place for the Grant tomb. Turnir.tr to two importers who had followed Mayor Grace and the park commissioners around in a cab, Mr. Crimmins pointed to the VanderUlt Cancer Hospital which had Just been opened directly across the avenue from the favored site for General Grant's final resting place. "It seems to me." he said quietly, "that it would be very unfortunate to choose this site." Two leading morning papers, next day. mentioned the incident, and within tw-nty-lour hours builders were at work laying out the s.te for General Grant's temporary tomb at Riverside, a few hundred vunls from the present magniticent mausoleum. uow to caul: koh a avi:t coat. A Simple "Way of Drying It So It "Will .ot Wrinkle. New .ork Sun. "Let a coat get soaking wM," said a tailor, "and it will dry more or less wrinkled or out of shape, unless proper care is taken in hanging it up. This calls for a little bit of labor, but if a man has a limited number of coats he couldn't spend tl; extra time required to better advantage. "The tiling to do is to dry the coat In the form in which it was worn. It would be very eai-y to do this if one had a wire form of just the ri,ht size, over which he could simply button the wet coat when he took J: olf, but a man may not want a wire skeleton around or he may not have room to keep it. So what he does is simply this: "He puts the wet coat on an ordinarv hangar which he suspends where there wiil 1' room all around so that the coat will hang clear of everything. Then he buttons the coat up and gets it Into its proper tiiape and hang, ar.d then he stuffs it out into form with newspaper. The newspaper ! oi-ened out and pages or double papers are crumpled up loosely into great open spongy masses, and with these the but-toned-up coat is gently stuffed out into the form in which it would be on your own body. Then you give it. if necessary, a final smoothing to get it true and right everywi" ;tnu ini'ii you leave it to dry. ."'V1 'iflV? will iin.1 thV coat in Its proper original shape, free from drawImr.h or wrinklings, and looking all rinht und you are sure not to regret the little extra labor-bestuw.d in ke pin- it so." The Krtaiiruut Detrctit r. New York i:enlng Sun. Tn the city there are many forms of employment of which the average person knows nothing. One of tluse i found in t'.e work of the woman detective in the rtaurant business. In the chearer eating houe that arc under one management, it has bten found necessary to keep an eve on the cooks to see that every one of the ariou restaurants keeps up to the averuse. The woman detective comes in here ud earns a fairly good Incomo !n a unique way. She vi.-lts each of the restaurant every cay and sumples one and the sam c!lh in each place. On one day, for instance, she miMt eat as many different portions of thicken .alad aa there are restaurants to be visited. She mav trv ovstrs the next day. but again it must be everal different meals of osters It would le all very well t: she could simply sample nr turn ani go away, out since she is a rtteetive she must be unsuspected and unl.nown, and therefore it involves upon her t j eat a fairly heartv meal manv t!me ovr. It Is one of the queer ways of earning a living In which the city abounds. The woman spotter on the street car has a w eil- tahllshed career, and her work U ff-arcely 13 monotonous with its eternal riding bak and forth, and up and down town.

STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS AS TOU BV j:rxj:st ktox-thompzox, mortox grixxeli, mid SARAH KXOWLKS ROLTOX.

ONE OF THE "WILD CREATURES." Liven of the Hunted. Ernest Seton-Thompson's latest book is dedicated to the "preservation of our wild creatures," by which he means the beasts and birds that roam or fly at will, unrestrained by man. "Lives of the Hunted" in much like "Wild Animals I Have Known." "Trail of the Sandhill Stag," "Biography of a Grizzly" and other works of the author. Some of the stories it contain have been printed in magazines, bat they are good enough to be preserved in book form. Mr. Seton-Thompson is a naturalist, and. as he sticks closely to truth in his accounts of the doings of the animals he describes, his narratives are instructive. Of course, he garnishes his stories to some extent, but he says "the material of the accounts is frue. The chief liberty taken is in ascribing to one animal the adventures of several." In his preface the author has this to say about his talented wife, who has shared his travels and camp life in Western wilds, and who also is an entertaining author: "The public has not fully understood the part that Grace. Gallatin Seton-Thompson does In my work. The s'torics are written by myself, and all the pictures, including tho marginals, are my own handwork, but in choice of subject to illustrate, in ideas of Its treatment, in the technical bookmaking and the preliminary designs for cover and title page and in the literary revision of the text her assistance has been essential. In giving special credit or the bookmaking I am standing for a principle. Give a person credit for his work and he will put his heart in it. Every book lovingly made should bear the author's name; then we should have more books of the kind the old masters left behind." "Lives of the Hunted" contains these stories, some of which probably are familiar to many readers: "Krag, the Kootenay Ham;" "A Street Troubadour, Being the Adventures of a Cock Sparrow;" "Johnny Bear," "The Mother Teal and the Overland Route," "Chink, tho Development of a Pup;" "The Kangaroo Rat," "Tito, the Story of a Coyote That Learned I low," and "Why the Chickadee Goes Crazy Once a Year." Four of the stories end with tragedies and three do not. The author says: "For the wild animal there is no such thing as a gentle decline in peaceful old age. Its life is spent at the front, in line of battle, and as soon as its powers begin to wane In the least its enemies become too strong for it; It fails. There is only one way to make an animal's history untragie, and that is to stop before the last chapter. This I have done in 'Tito,' the 'Teal and the 'Kangaroo Rat.' " No one who reads Mr. Seton-Thompson's works can mistake his sentiments. He opposes the ruthless slaughter of beasts and birds. Elke Saint Francis, he would say: "All the world to every creature." All animals have good qualities as well as bad, and in telling of theni the author brings out both. Some beasts are jealous, others morose and evil-tempered, and some have noble characteristics the same as human beings. In the story of "Krag" there Is found deceit, motherly love, jealousy, murder and self-sacrifice, the last-named quality as grand as ever attributed to man. Krag was a hero among mountain sheep. His home was on the Gunder peak, in the wilds of the Kootenay. He was a loader of his kind, and his marvelous strength, his fearlessness and cunning often saved his flocks from the hunter of pelts and horns. Old Scotty, whose, cabin was on Tobacco cretk at the base of the mountains, had spent years in attempting to shoot Krag, but the "king of "big horns" outwitted him until Scotty. in despair, played a trick that was new to the ram. The hunter, after being sure Krag saiv him, made a dummy of his hat and coat, then sneaked around In the rear of the ram and shot the animal while it was watching: the dummy. Such was K rag's inglorious end, but the end of his slayer was even more inglorious. Describing the ram's death, the author says: "There on the snow lay a great graybrown form, and at one end, like a twinnecked hydra colling, were the horns, the wonderful horns, the sculptured record of the splendid life of a splendid creature, his fifteen years of life made visible at once. There were the points, much worn now, that once had won his lamb-days fight. There were the years of robust growth, each long In measure of that growth.' Here was that year of sickness, there the splinter on the fifth year's ring, which notched his first love fight. The points had now come round, and on them, could we have but seen, were the lives oT many gray wolves that had sought his life. And so the rings read on, the living record of a life whose very preciousness had brought it to a sudden end." Scotty was stricken with remorse when he gazed at the calm yellow eyes of his victim. There was no exultation over the death of the anima! whose life he had so lonsr and nersistentlv smrht "im Di-n j U l;U.k to him if I could," Scotty said to ' J himself in the moment of los greatest weakr.e?. But the hunttr's lust soon returned and the head of the ram was cut off as a trophy. Scotty had it mounted and hung In his cabin, but his consc ience smote him so hard lie could not look at his spoils, and the great head and horns remained covered with a cloth. Scotty hunted no more. When the Chinook winds howled about his home he imagined he could hear the "snoof" of th Guilder ram. Scotty's exposure to the elements on the mountains had undermined his health, and, with the wane of physical strength, his imagination increased. Four years after the death of Krag his slayer firmly believed the ram's spirit was haunting him and that It would "get him." To a friend who advised him to seil the trophy he said: "I'il never part with him. I stayed by him until I done him up. and he'll stay by me till he gits even. He's been a-gittin-back at me these four years. He broke me down on that trip. He's made an old mm o me. He's left me half luny. He's sucking my life out now. But he ain't through with me yet. Thar's more o him 'round than that head. I tell ye, when that old chlnook comes a-blowin' up thö Ter-

"Lives of the Hunted," "Neighbors of Field, "Wood and Stream" and "Our Devoted Friend, the Dog," three recent books, are of great interest to lovers of animals. Seton-Thompson tt lis stories, mainly of the wild creatures of the great Northwest, while Morton Grinnell has covered a held better known to the majority of readers. Mrs. Bolton gives a collection of stories about dogs and makes an earnest plea for their better treatment. Natural history is a study that interests children, and many adult3 as well. There are few persons who do not care to know the habits of birds and wild beasts, and when the ways of the "wild creatures," as Seton-Thompson calls them, are described in story form or when they themselves are given

voice and relate their own experiences, as they do in Mr. Grinnell's book, the subject becomes intensely interesting. bak-ker crlk I've beared noises that the wind don't make. I've beared him just the same as I done that day when he blowed his life out through his nose, an me a-lay-in on my face afore him. I'm up agi'n ir, an I'm a-goin to face it out right hereon Ter-bak-ker crik." The chlnook is a warm wind that blows off the Paciiic ocean. Lato in the fall it brings snow, but in the spring, as it rushes through the mountain passes the winter's depth of snow disappears as if by magic, creeks are converted into torrents and avalanches sweep down into tho valleys. One night the chinook blew with greater force than usual, and Scotty thought he heard the old-time familiar "snoof" of the Gunder ram on the mountain side. Once or twice the re tame in over the door a long "snoof" that jarred the latch and rustled violently the cloth that covered Krag's head. The storm continued all next day and at nightfall was a veritable howling gale. Avalanches were let loose from all the peaks, but from Gunder Peak, the former home of Krag, "there whirled a monstrous mass charged with a mission of revenge. Down, down, down, loud 'snooting' as it went, and sliding on from shoulder, ledge and long incline, now wiping out a forest that would bar its path, then crashing, leaping, rolling, smashing over cliff and steep descent, still gaining as it sped. Down, down, fast jr,. fiercer, in one fell and fearful rush, and Scotty's shanty, in its track, with all that it contained, was crushed and swiftly blotted out. The hunter had forcfelt his doom." When the spring rains disclosed the wrecked shanty, "there, in the middle, quite unharmed, was the head of the Gunder ram. His amber eyes were gleaming bright as of old, under cover of those wonderful horns, and below him .were some broken bones, with rags and grizzled human hair. Old Scotty is forgotten, but the ram's head hangs enshrined on a palace wall to-day, a treasure among kingly treasures; and men, when they gaze on those marvelous horns, still talk of the glorious Gunder ram which grew them far away on the heights of the Kootenay." Thus closes the story of Krag. "Johnny Bear" is a talc founded on a study of Druln in Yellowstone National Park. The author in his recent lectures in Indianapolis told the story to several thousand children, and it was so interesting not one stirred during its recital. "A Street Troubadour" tells of the joys and woes of Biddy and Randy, two English sparrows that made their nest near the author's residence. "The Mother Teal" and her little ones were assisted overland by Mr. SetonThompson, and he tells how they escaped the hawk. "Chink" is a good story of a dog and its fight with a coyote. "The Kangaroo Hat" describes the habits of a strange little animal; "Tito" is the history of a much-abused coyote whose captivity at a ranch made it wise and cunning in later years, and "Why the Chickadee Goes Crazy" is a brief, fanciful story intended to illustrate the characteristics of the bird. The book is Illustrated with over 203 drawings. Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. Neighbor of Field, Wood and Stream. Morton Grinned, of Beaver Brook farm, Milford, Conn., has filled a want in natural history, ami placed all lovers of birds, beasts and fishes under obligation to him. His "Neighbors of Field, Wood and Stream, or Through the Year with Nature's Children," is a work of great merit. It shows a knowledge of the habits and characteristics of wild animals that has cost much study. Mr. Grinnell, evidently, has spent a great deal of time in the woods and fields, and nothing that pertains to bird or beast has escaped his observation. He also has u:ed his camera freely, as the forty-five illustrations in his book testify. His writing has not the literary finish of a Seton-Thompson. but as an instructor in trie ways of our common wild animals those which we occasionally see even now in the woods and lields of Indiana Mr. Grinnell has no superior. All Mr. Grinnell's birds, beasts, reptiles and fishes tell their own story. All have names that describe their chief characteristics, and they all talk. The author says: "This volume is intended to make known to the younger generation and to naturelovers of all ages, the habits and home life of some of these unseen neighbors of ours. In endowing the' birds, beasts and fish with the attributes of human intelligence and speech, I have attempted to give to the subjects of zoology and ornithology a real and living interest. I have sought to make heroes of some of the characters and villains of others. The photographs reproduced are cither from life or from my own specimens placed in their natural surroundings." All birds and beasts change some of their habits with the change of seasons. The migratory birds go and come with the winter and spring. Those which remain with us in all seasons change their food or adopt different methods of obtaining it in winter. What can be secured in summer cannot always be obtained in winter. Mr. Grinnell makes this plain by the manner in which he lias arranged his book. Two ! chapters are devoted to each month of the year, and many of the same birds and beasts are introduced each month, but in new setting. Thus we leurn what "IIooHgo, the great horned owl;" "Cooney, the fox" and his family; "Ruffle, the partridge;" "Snarley. the lynx;" "Chip, the sparrow." "Whitehead, the eagle;" "Bunny, the cotton tail; "Sneak, the ferret," and all the other wild things do in the spring, summer, fall, winter and midseasons. Some of the birds and-beasts are hated by their kind. "Slim, the weasel;" "Shrike, the butcher;" "Plumetail, the skunk," and "Slick, the mink." have few friends. A number of the birds are inveterato gossips, but act as news carriers for others, and. therefore, are net regarded as mischievous. The lower animals are much liku man In one respect; they learn wisdom by experience. When they are young and thrown on their own resources, natural instinct often comes to their aid. It tells them to hide from man and to beware other animals that might do them harm, but It does not teach them that a piece of savwry meat lying in their path is a lure for a

trap or a pitfall, or is dosed with poison. That is something that must be learned from experience or be taught them by those which have had experience. Mr. Grinnell shows how the wild creatures learn to be wise, and makes them relate their own experiences. "Cooney, the fox," had two sons Brush and Brake. When the little ones were half grown they were taken out one night to be taught how to catch Deacon Clark's guinea hens. Cooney went into the orchard to find the fowls, leaving Brush and Brake near the barnyard, with an admonition not to wander away. Brush grew weary waiting, disregarded his fathr's warning and began an investigation of his own. The deacon had set a gun. well charged, to protect his henhouse. A wire was attached to the triggers. Rrush. having had no experience with such dangerous inventions, ran against the wire and the gun was discharged. The shot cut off the major portion of his tail and stunned him for a time, but he revived and escaped. He had learned a lesson, however, that lasted him through life, for no set gun ever caught him again. Not all the foxes mentioned in the book escaped so easily as Brush. Reynard, one of his cousins, grew so cunning that he thought no dog could catch him. Overconfidence in his own slyness led to his death, just as overconfidence sometimes leads to the undoing of man. The book Is published by the Fredtrick A. Stokes Company, New York. Our Devoted I'rientI, the I1r. Sarah Knowles Bolton, in her latest book, makes a strong plea for the dog. on the grounds that it is faithful and devoted to man; that it saves human life, sometimes by rescuing from drowning or from fire, and occasionally by warning against burglars, and that it shows affection and gratitude by guarding the dead. She says: "The devotion of a dog is the same in the homes of the rich and the poor. He licks the hand of a millionaire in a house of luxury, or goes to jail with a wanderer or a drunkard, and sleeps on the hard Moor of a polico station. He listens with ears alert for the kind voice of the master who loves him. and sits dejected under curses, offering no response to harshness. Recently a drunken man was arrested for kicking his dog and breaking his ribs, so that the.

5.-. iVtii 1 x TJX v 1 - V. "W, .-' -7 & .1 -v r . ? $ ra r v o x .V. - V'-iWX So V, ::- '. Tj H . T ONK OF miS. BOLTON'S FRIENDS. poor creature had to be shot. Before the man was taken to prison the dos crawled to him and licked his boots. Would any human dog do this? The affection ,of dogs is one of the strongest reasons why they should receive every kindness from man, rather than death at his hands, because homeless or unlicensed." For two years Mrs. Bolton collected clippings from newspapers giving a great variety of stories about dogs. She has arranged these clippings under appropriate headings, chaptered them and set them oft with an abundance of illustrations, mainly from photographs of dogs and their owners. Button, a French poodle, now dead, but which was owned by Miss L. C. Thayer, of Indianapolis, is given half a page. Besides the clippings and stories, there are chapters devoted to hospitals, cemeteries and homes for dogs, and a review of cruel laws. Mrs. Bolton also tells "how to care for animals," and concludes with a chapter on our duty to them. 11 Mrs. Bolton's work has largely been a labor of love, for every page shows sympathy for "our devoted friend." The book is dedicated to her grandson, Stanwood Knowles Bolton, and his dog Tim, both being shown in the frontispiece. As tending to show the sentiment of the author the following is taken from the preface: "Dogs have saved people from drowning, houses from burning, died of grief for their loved ones, and yet, all over the country, oir laws concerning these faithful creatures are brutal. We tax them out of all proportion to their money value. We let them starve and freeze with no apparent interest, and, if homeless, or an unjust tax is'not paid, we encourage theft and cruelty by offering 23 cents apiece to have them caught on the streets and taken to dog pounds, or we empower police or societies to kill them by poi.con or gun, or fumes of sulphur or gas. Lot creatures, petted and fondled by some child, instead of being buried after death, are thrown into garbage wagons, with no thought of tenderness or decency. "We care for idiots and insane and dissolute, and forget creatures of rare intelligence, temperate and trustworthy. We arrogate to ourselves the thought that we alone of all created things have souls, and that we alone can enter heaven. How do we know all this? "We cruelly destroy birds by the millions for our personal adorning. We let cats starve on the streets because we do not wish to have any cares; we wantonly hurt and leave dying on the great plains thousands of buffaloes; we kill by savage methods elephants, whose intelligence seems sometimes above the human; we are horrified at bull fights, yet we tear deer and foxes and rabbits to pieces with dogs in so-called 'sport.' Are we forever to go on without mercy for our dumb friends?" It must be admitted that Mrs. Bolton puts it a little strong when she intimates the lower animals may enter heaven, as well as human beings, but, in the main, her pka will iind many sympathizers. Tho book is printed by I C. Page & Co., Boston. A Chlengoaii's Properly. Chicago Post. There was a fire in a local boarding house the other day and among the tenants who were obliged to make a hasty exit was a newspaper man whose wit is considerably greater than his jvorldy possessions. He met a friend who congratulated him on his escape from harm and askeni him if he lost any property. "Lose any property?" repeated the brand saved from the burning. "Well, I should say I did. Why, I lost lifty-three pieces of property." "Fifty-three pieces!" said the other in amazement. "Why, that must have cleaned you out. What were they?" "A deck of cards and a night shirt," said the other. "Give me a light." Residuum. "I have no memory of what ycu fa!J. The hour you cam and tolJ ine of my docm But this I know, that in the quiet riiom The buzz'.njf of a bee poised on the red Ruse vlna ouitid n-emd louder than the tread Of muItitU'Jfs; t. itnin the twilight's gloom I saw ftrange traceries of leaf and Mooin Anainst the window, und a solken tlirend Ours nioUt about my he 1 and minded ni To Knthr up the skeins and iut away My broidery, until another day Should dawn as different an orld. nijst bo! Ah, why should I the8 trtflh-S tnlr.fjn recall Yet not one slightest word your lips lt fall I" Charlotte Becker, la Almiie's Magazine.

A TEACHER'S TALE OF WOE

Tim FINANCIAL, mOHLUM THAT I'ltCSE.NTS 1TSKLF TO I1KU. The Country Teacher with Her Small l'ay linn an Imperially Hard Knot to I'nrnvel, Sara G. Small, in Boston Transcript. If I should enter into any country village, on pedagogic deeds intent, and there abide for the space of a week without being informed by somebody that I am doing easy work for big pay, I should distrust that town. I should not feel that the usual hospitalities wtre being extended to me. It is nearly always a woman who first observes this formality. When the financial side is touched upon, enter the man. That interests him. He probably pays a poll tax. "Ten dollars a week! Pretty good pay for five days' work; six-hour days, too. And all you have to do is to sit thero and hear lessons, and keep the youngsters out of mischief. Well, you get your money easy." Now, I have long since ceased to argue the matter on such occasion?. If facts are stubborn thing?, there are fallacies ten times as stubborn. All I have to do is to "sit and hear lessons and keep the youngsters out of mischief." Is it? The lines have fallen unto me in easy places of late, for 1 have onlv three grades In my room. I have had the "whole nine, and 1 live to tell it. Did you ever try to row a boat in a "choppy" sea? That is what I am doing just now. Since country schools began trying to keep up with the pace set by the thoroughly graded city school, equipped with special teachers, the progress made in many of them is most aptly described by the old rhyme of the alligator who "Wouldn't go along, and wouldn't stand still. But kept bobbing up and down." First, there is the elaborate course of study. Language, grammar, literature, English and American historj-, physical and common school geography, physiology, muHC. drawing, that fearful and wonderful thing known as nature study, involving everything from the investigation of earthworms, muscles and boiled rabbit bones up to the study of the solar system and the rixed stars; and. incidentally, a little reading, writing, speDing and arithmetic. The time allowed for some of thes researches is twenty minutes, twice each week. Fifteen minutes is allowed for daily recitations from each class. Keep to the programme. King language out and arithmetic in. promptly on the clock tick. At night your children will probably feel very much like the little boy who was taken to see the biograph: "I have to leek for what's coming next before I know what went last." lie plaintively remarked. But never mind. You must be modern, or forever resign your claim to fitness as an exponent of our great public school system. T1IF TROUBLE WITH TOMMY. When some old-fashioned mother writes you, "Tommy does not understand his arithmetic very well. He brings his examples home, but his father and I cannot seem to help him. He says we don't do them the way they do down at school," you feel discouraged, but you try to stifle your conscience and your common sense with the rellectlon that you were told at the last teachers' meeting that arithmetic had been made far too irmch account of in the past, and that it is seldom of any practical use after leaving school. You have just flften minutes for Tommy's arithmetic class. And while he if working on it at his desk you are rushing through another recitation. Neither can Tommy spend very much" time on it. He, poor youth, before school Is out must draw some cross sections of soaked heaps, learn two stanzas of Shelley's "Cloud" and wrije a "theme" on "Reconstruction." And when you are reading Tommy's theme, tor it must be corrected and passed back so that he will know Just what a mess he has made of it, you count the misspelled words. Only eleven, for this is Tommy's best work. You stifle a sigh, and feel guilty. Y'et why should any one be so absurd as to insist that Tommy shall spell correctly? He can tell you, without a moment's reflection whether the squirrel chews or chops his food; he can paint beautiful milkweed pods with watered India ink. and he can write a description of "The Man with the Hoe," or "Baby Stuart" that would paralyze the soul of an art critic. " Susie Bates, a seventh-grade girl, told Tommy the other day that his milkweed pods looked like squashes. Tommy is In the eighth grade, and does not take kindly tc criticism, even from his peers. "Huh," h grunted, with fine contempt; "if they wa; squashes would they be stickin' up like that? They'd be layin' down flat." I have grnat hopes of Tommy! Lately, by way of increasing the teacher's need of being instant in season and out of season, the School Board huve voted that no text-book shall be used by the pupils of the eighth and ninth grades in theii study of Fngllsh grammar. "The principles of grammar are to be developed by the teacher." Did you ever hear a "model school" teacher develop a definition In English grammar? If you never have, you have missed some innocent fun. And there is no admission fee, either. THE BLACKBOARD FAD. In some way exercises are supposed to gain in value by being transferred from some book to the board, and from the board to the pupil. It may be hard on their eyes, but it gives you the experience of putting English grammar into the form of a blackboard serial, to say nothing of the chalk you absorb into your clothes and into yov;i system in putting it on, and getting it off. At intervals, however, you have light sheti upon your groping way. Every four weeks you are hidden to a teachers' meeting, t be held at the other end of the township. You can walk, or hire a team for 75 cents or trust to the intermittent and reluctani charity of the people where you board to drive you. But you must get there In some way. Then, too, there are the conventions, held in some neighboring large town, at times even as far away as Boston. You are usually informed that you are to attend these functions about noon on the day before they are to take place. Y'ou hurry away from the schoolhouse as soon as you can after school is out, perhaps about 5 o'clock, leaving your board work unfinished, and your arithmetic papers half corrected. When you get to your room, you look up your holiday apparel. Alas! the skirt of your year-and-a-half-old best suit needs rebinding. Y'ou knew it did. But Saturday you had to go on a long tramp after clay for a "nature study" experiment on Monday. Clayey soil is scarce in your locality. Then you were Invited out to tea, and in the evening you had to work at the library. The week before you took that skirt to Mrs. Smith, the village dressmaker. She was busy on a silk waist for a town girl who works In the rubber factory, and she told you with great indifference that she "couldn't touch it." - Then you realize also that it is time you had a winter hat. But it is too late to get one now, even if you had monev enough. It is nearly a month since you were paid off. You count your money and find that the fare to and from the convention, with dinner in town, will reduce your cash In hand to "small change" in very truth. Why is it that you never have any money? Deacon Larkin, with whom you board, often tells you that many men support families on what you are getting he doesn't say earning. Let us see. Ten dollars a week for thirty-six weeks in the year. That is $7 M week for the entile yearr You pay the deacon for a seat at his board and a stuffy back bedroom furnished twenty-five or thirty years ago with cheap furniture. Y'ou have no heat in your room In cold weather unless you pay extra for it. And It never does seem to occur to the deacon that at the rate it costs to board you he says there is "no money in it" two and a half persons are the maximum family a. man could support, for only thirty-six weeks in the year on what you are getting, and then they would have to go shod like the little colt and clothed in rig leaves. Add to the deacon's $1. laundry bills, traveling expenses, clothes, books, educational papers and pictures for school use, occasional doctor's bills, money for the church and the club and various charities, and your surplus is like the "snowfall on the river." CALLS ON THE TEACHER. For the school teacher In most country towns is supposed to be ablw to assist In all good works, both by giving of her substance and by her labor. Th "general housework" girl, who has J3 or S3.r0 a week and her board the year around, is only a poor girl feupportlng herself. But the school teacher! She gets $10 a week. When money is needed for the church building fund, or the Sunday school In Oklahoma supported by the Home Missionary Society.

I I m.M-m 1 im. ii m !

km i i i i January Sale of

a? $5.00

. These trousers we make to order at $5.00 from $7.00, $8.00 and $9.00 trouserings in our best style. It will be well worth your time to get "next" on this sale. fiS5Also a few sample and uncalled for garments at about half price.

Kann

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or for any local benevolent enterprise, the teacher is expected to give as freely as she has received! Why, there are even dark rumors afloat at times that she is a capitalist, and that the battered looking trunk which accompanies her wanderings in reality tilled with books, school materials and a few clothes contains certificates of stock and bank books galcre! But to return to that convention. You go. You get there after It has opened, for you walked to the station and stopped downtown for a shine, you tit in a back seat and wickedly envy your better-paid city sister her smart suit and new hat. You hear much said about "Jdcals," the "Child" and the "Teacher Whose oul Is in Her Work," while you are wondering whether you couldn't cut over your black skirt to look like one you saw coming in on the train. Then someone begins to talk, a Westerner with a big, whole-souled voice, and you lift your head and listen. The speaker is down among the ranks, face to fuce with those who bear the burden and endure the toil of this great work, for the reward which is set before them, the lifting up of human lives. Your children's faces rise before you, and a mist gathers in your eyes. Y'ou think of Tommy. He is not a cherub. He Is not "sweet." How he would double up his grimy fists if he heard that adjective applied to him. He can do deeds of violence with those same fists at times, and he loves to play you most unangelic tricks. Still, you and Tommy are good friends. You forget your shabby gown and the single dollar lying lonely in your purse, and come into your kingdom as you see once more that square, sturdy young face light up with In- t terest, and the pleasure of "seeing through things" shine in those honest eyes. For this is your inheritance, and in all your inglorious shabbiness and poverty you would not yield it up. When it is time to go out to dinner you seek a restaurant and study the bill of fare with furtive haste in search of a cheap but hubstantial dish. Y'ou are desperately hungry. The deacon's wife objects to early rising, and you had for your breakfast some half-cooked fish, a cup of muddy coffee, bread that never would return to the surface if cast upon the waters, and doughnuts with no holes in the middle. Doughnuts grown up solid do not inspire conlldence. They suggest an area of rare dough where the hole ought to be. THE REAL AND THE IDEAL. As you tramp from the station to your boarding place that night you wonder if your soul is in your work,' and whether it is great gain to your work If it is there. Y'ou muse upon the child, that elusive phenomenon of the teachers convention, who is "sweet" and "fresh" and "pure." who "longs to impart to you his budding thoughts," who is enthusiastic and responsive and generally seraphic, and you wonder what you would do with him If you had him in school, unless you gave him a hymn book and let him sing. "I Want to Be an Angöl." Then next day you go down to school and labor to. induce Tommy not to spell carpetbagger carpit-bager,. and lead the eighth grade Into the mysteries of bank discount. As dry things like the multiplication table were regarded with lofty pedagogic scorn in this school when the present eighth grade were doing their lower-grade work, they are handicapped in all business computations. So you struggle on from day to day. You rise up early and sit up late, and eat tho bread of sorrow. For superintendents are often critical and exacting, children hard to reach and parents unsympathetic and uncomprehending. Whom the gods wish to make mad they first make school teachers. Let no man think that I have reached the second condition. I know whereof I speak. I have taught nine grades with fifty-four pupils for JG a wtek. 1 have been at the head of n large country school, teaching the four upper grades, and having at the same time the hrst year's work with a high-school class, for t'J a week. I have sounded the depths of hard work and poor pay in our public schools. f Xot long ago I sat at dinner with two school superintendents. Not from choice, for I like to eat my meals free from the "shop." But by accident we dined together. Of course, they talked about the work. One of them, a robust man. with a prodigious appetite, remarked: "Yes, we had to let Miss Gray go on. She was used up. She wanted to stay, but I had to tell her it was the only thing to do. Of course, those W schools are hard. We have to plan on using up a good teacher there in ten years." WHAT BECOMES OF HER. What is to become of her then? To be sure, even in the hard places one dos. not usually wear out in ten years. With a strong physique, a sweet, wholesome nature, a heart that will keep young and a saving snse of the eternal funniness of things, the teacher of our ungraded schools may last twenty years. But the time must come when some one with a younger, fresher mind and body will take her place. What is the to do? (.Jive up teaching- and gel married, some one says. That answer is excluded. It involves chanc-, or chances, which some of us never get. (Jo home and live on her savings, says some one else. Last year I saved yZ, cents. Of course, last year was an off year with me. I was rash enough to have pneumonia winter before lust, and I have Wen trvlng to get back to normal financial circumstances ever since. But at my usual rate of laving up treasure upon earth I have calculated that in ju.t seventeen years I shall have enough to take me into a home for aged women. And there, having beert so long used to saying to this one, "go," and to another "do this." I am afraid I should achieve unpopularity. There may be people who could supply all the needs of this present state and save money on $360 a year. I know many who say they could. But all these good people have the same drawback they can't teach fcchool. I speak wholly of the self-supporting teacher. Of those who can always fail back upon papa for board during vacations and for ten-dollar bills on occasion 1 have nothing to say. And I speak of the teacher who cannot live bv brtad alone. The re are needs of the mind as well as of the body, for the woman who must dally face thirty or forty bos and girls, knowing that whatever books they may have, whatever systems and courses may be visited upon them, their Inspiration and true help must come from her. Every year sees new demand ruad

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ac NOTICE. I have the exclusive sale of Jnl Cliop In Marion and four unounding count l Thin Celebrated Keed is the richest and cheapest feed on the market. Bs 1'lesh-rroducinc junlitles cannot be equaled. Feed it to your horc and save money. AIAKTIN WAtnN FEED HOUSE. 360 S. Meridian St. New Phone 3TI. Old Thone Main . HAILHOAU timf: cakd. y.M. time I in BLACK ngure. Traint m&rkel Ihn: Daily. fc Sleeptr. P Farlor Car. O Chair Car. J IMnin- Car.-Kcep hunday. BIO FOÜK KOÜTI2. City llcket Office, No. 1 rrhinc ton sc. Depark ArrlTv CLEVELAND LJN Anderton accommodation ..... Union City accommodation 4.45 Clf reland. New York A Boston. x. i.M M 10.40 ia:s i..'iU 3.11 1LS) 2.3 ma .10 2 r,n 10 TJ 4M Fort Wayne esrrees 7.11 Cnion C tyand Cleveland ccom t 4i ew York and Boaton limited. 4 a.. NYABoi "Knirkerbocker.-d ....O.'iS BKNTON HAKBOIt klf jC Bnon Harbor express A.O Benton Harbor express, p ..ti n Wabash accommodation 4.45 fcT. LOUIS LINK. St. Loa Is accommodation 7 M Ft. Louis southwestern. Um, d i. 11.45 Ft Louis limited, d ......JJ.l Terre JIaatetfc Mat toon ccom A.OO es. Louis express, s X CHICAGO LINK v Lafayette accommodation 7.20 Lafayette accommodation..... ...... .ft 15 A IS , 10 SI 2 id v to XM t r, irajto fat mau, d p.. 11 Chicago. White City special, d p 3 3D Chicago night eiprens, e 12.05 CINCINNATI LINK . . mm Cincinnati express, a 11.45 Cincinnati express, a 11.' Cincinnati accommodation. ........... -7." ti.45 Cincinnati accommodation........ ....1" S Ml Cincinnati express, p ..2.&o 3 ". (ireensbura: accommodat'on Ii. O 8.4) Cincinnati, Washington fl ex. a d... 0.2(1 H " N. Vernon and Louisville ex, a 4t "1145 N. Vernon and Louisville ex ZJiO U 40 PKOK1A LINK. Peoria, Bloomlnxton m and ex 7.25 2. so Teorla and llloomington f ex. d p ....1153 C OM Champsttcn accommodation, p a 4.10 10 TJ Peoria and Bloom ins ton ex, a 1 1 .& S aJ M'MNUFIKLD AND COLUMBU LINK. Colnmbus and Kpringfield ex 6 4 11.00 Ohio special, d p 3 oo Lynn accommodation ...ti.15 Uli CIN., 11AM. & DAYTON ICY. City Ticket Office, 25 W. Wash. St. Cincinnati express ic.MW Cincinnati fast mud, s... S il Cm. and Dayton ex, p..tl40 I? 41 fl 41 10.3A 11 it 13..:. 4.Z1 17. '45 Toiedo and Detroit express, p tl0.4 Cincinnati and Dayton ex. p 2.45 Cincinnati and Dayton limited, p d..4.45 Cincinnati and Dayton express .... Toledo and Detroit expre Oll., IND. A LOUIS. KY. Ticket Üföce, 24 Wesi Wash. Mt 7r ir rTT t'ni(ODi(nt(i,i..'iz.M -a Chicago last mail. a. p d 7 00 7.M Chicago express, pd H.30 12 4 Chicago vesiibuls.pd I3.3A 4 3 7 Uodod accom f4.00 110.W LAKE LKIi; & WLslLKN IU IL Toledo.Chicago and Michigan ex tT.oo 10 Toledo. Ietroit and Chicago, lim. 4.0 13. Ü kluncie. Lafay'teand La porta spct7.2t 110.S5 INDIANA, Di tA l LK U t.SlKKN Decatur and St. Louis mail and ex....U 00 Chicago express, p d tll.i ifY. 14 5 1U.1I Tuscola accommodation. t!i .10 Decatur A tit. Louin fast ex. a e. .11. Hi 4 0i Ticket oflces station and a) corner Illinois and Wasbiot too birccts. Indians poül Un:on etaaoa ennsylvanta Ljnes. Train Eun by Ouni Tloa Philadelphia a.id New York SS0 alumore and Washington 4 0 Columbus, Ind. and Louisville S :.' Columbus, Ind. and Louisville J Kicrtmond, kiqoa ana Columbus. O ..Tju Vincennes Express 7.., Columbus. Ind. A Madison ?7..'0 Martinsville Accommodatiou.. fv(0 Columbus. Ind. and Louisville North Vernon and Madlaon t Dayton and Xenla ! 1'iiisburg and li-ast. Phil , New York ..-.' Martinsville Ac coin Tloot) Logansport and Chicago Ml 25 Martinsville Accommodation tt2 .to Kichm'd, way points to Bradford, O.tl.25 Philadelphia and New York . Baltimore and Washington 3.U.1 Dayton and tepringtield 3 or. Vlncennea Accommodation '3.55 Louisville and Madison 4.uu Pittsburg and Kast OO Columbus, Pittsburg and East ft.ot Kpencer accommodation 5 4S Louisville Accommodation 1.11 Phil, and New Y'a, The Limited '. 7. 1 5 Dayton and Xenia 7 1A lUchmond acc 8.0. Martinsville accommodation tl i 5 Logatisport and Chicago.... 119 VAN DALI A LINU BC Louis limited Terre Haute. tt. Louis and West 7.Ui Terra Uaute. l Louis and West. . !'. 15 Western Kxpress 3.3 Terre Haute and Kff.ngham acc....t4.00 'l erre 11 ante and ml Ixui f s man I i t.3 lO 3U 1 4 01 15. 40 10.5HI 'i 15 8 15 t;.i 7.05 ti.4l .Mr 12. lO 3 45 3 .AO 1 1 2 I T2 OO i2 IO IO 1 IO tin.: ll. S el 3 to R 1 10 0 a o e xi 40 47 IS IU 7.0Q) 4.4 2 5.1 s yt tl.tfO 10.UO Bt Lonla and all points West 11.20 Daily. tUailT excen Hundav. Truridav rnlr. i.ti:hi H1IA TIM I? aiul UNION TRACTION CO. OP INDIANA. Station-Union Block, no West Maryland Street. Time Tabl, effective January 1, 1:. For Andersen. Man-ie, Marlon, Llwood. Alexandria ai.d intermediate rHuticn 1 a e 4:li a. m. and ach hour tneieafter until p. iu. p. m. anl 11:13 p. m-Llrultf-.l trains for Ar.J. rson anJ Mur;c!e Leave fe.lrt and 11 :v a. m.. Z V) and .":) n. ro . arrlin AiiiTn in one hour and twnty-ri minutes and Murxlf In two hour, ll.w a. m. and Lxi - m. train tnaWe direct connctlor.s at Anderson ith limited tram for Llmcx-J. ujnm the teachfr la country towns as w-!l as In tin- cith s. Kvt-ry tar a hUh. r standnnl Is y t for tli.- work that pho niut !.. Hat Mirmnc-r schools!, lecture rnursi'., IhoW-. IwlCMiicitK Uns .tnl other l.tlp to a 1't us fulness lo not drop like manna from tl. skies. I'oor lMan! ntnl shabby lot he, th constant worry and strain of the 5trupl to live on what Is not a living w.ie me tu t Incentives to hotter work. The teacher mav gladly t-peinl and be ient for the oiic hhe lovts. yet 5:' must live ami nuke om lifiht provision for those rainy ddja which come to mo.t of us. What 1h to be the end? Are our country schools to become merely practice hchoo! for the Inexperienced and ln rhci.-i:t ' If the live teacher cannot afford to tay in lljem "what l to he tlirlr future? It will take? time to find an answer to. Mich questions. There aeni litt!- for o;r,t of ui to do hut work and wait. Mcanhlis) there la always Tommy,

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