Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 May 1891 — Page 6

MET AT THE GRAVE.

A. Decoration Day Episode with a Pleasant Endin*. When the tall, military-looking stranger moved into the modest dwelling next to the widow Clark’s that excellent lady, in common with the rest of the neighbors, experienced some little curiosity. In truth the newcomer was a handsome fellow — handsome enough for any widow to enjoy gazing ht. Though his mustache and imperial were snow white, his form, six good feet in height, was •root and vigorous, and he walked with a stride that if it did not show the elasticity of youth at least betokened a liberal supply of vitality. The widow Clark got to peeping through her blinds at her neighbor as he walked past and then to wondering when she should make his acquaintance. But Captain Mageddon (for that it seemed was his name) did not display any anxiety to make acquaintances. He lived all alone in his little house and seldom went out. A colored boy made his bed and did his cooking. He was scrupulous courteous and polite to the inhabitants of the little eountry town. He exchanged greetings with the postmaster every day in the cheeriest manner possible. He was quite a favorite at the resort known as “the store, ” whither he went every day to order his supplies, and where he’was wont at times to regale the assortment of prominent citizens there assembled with a story or two. Now, though the widow Majorie Clark was firty-two good summers pid (though she might have prevaricated if questioned on that subject before a judge and jury), and though there were streaks of silver here and there in the locks that had once borne the hue of the raven's wing, she was a decidedly wholsome creature to look upon. She had round, plump, whi\e a-ms, as any one could see who watched her kneading through the dough on baking day. She had, moreover, smooth fresh cheeks, with the tinge of ripe snow app e! in them. She had Lot an unsound tooth in her head, and her laugh was like the ripple oftt thin stream of water over pebbles. She wore neat black gowns with I fleecy lace ruffles at the wrists, and throat. Many were the swains who had sighed at the feet of the comely widow for the last ten years, but the trumber who had gone away sorrowing matched precisely the number Of those who had sighed. Mrs. Mar* tone Clark she remained, and seemed to be perfectly happy so. Perhaps it was a memory of her vanished girlhood that caused the widow to feel a trifle piqued at the Captain’s obvious indifference. Other tenants of that house had—but why call up harrowing recollections? And b§re was the captain, a next door neighbor for six months, and he had never even called on her. True, he bowed with a grave courtesy whenever they met, and often exchanged verbal salutations with her respecting the condition of the weather and 60 on. But it was all done with a cold politeness that harmonized very ill with the widow’s neighborly feelings. If anyone had told her she bad fallen genuinely in love with that Boldieriy figure and earnest, manly face, she would have been vastly indignant. She grew more and more exasperated at the captain’s unsociability nevertheless. But there came a day when this kindly interest (to call it by no warmer name) was changed into something closely resembling dislike, and a very stormy interview took the place of any pleasanter one for which the lady may have wished. Deep down in her heart Mrs. Clark cherished a passionate regard for a lot of fat hens that she kept fenced in her trim backyard. One morning the captain’s big retriever, a shaggy brute with a matted coat and no conscience, burst through the fence, put three of the fattest hens to death and so eternal-1 Iv scarified the others that they could i do nothing but lie down and gasp for air. The widow caught the brute in the act She forgot he “was Captain Mageddon s dog—forgot everything except the wanton slaughter he had wreaked. She grabbed him pluckily by the collar, armed herself With a broom handle and in two minutes the! dog, having been dragged •nto the widow’s front porch, was being belabored with a lustiness that caused him to fill the air with his howls. f In about ten seconds Capt. Mageddon descended his front steps and walked across the lot that separated the two houses. “Madam,” he said rather brusquely, why on earth are you beating my dog?” ( Because,” retorted the widow, angry for being caught in so ridiculous * situation, “he killed my hens!" Because —take that, you brute!” with a final thump as the dog flew between his master s legs and crouched there, trembling, “ “1 am soiry, madam," responded the old soldier gravely, “that he killed your hens, and I will pay vou for them, gladly. He deserved the beating, and I hope you’ll excuse my testiness, but you see that dog and my colored boy, Tom, are about the only friends I have in the world, and I don’t like to see either of them hurt. ’ Pay for her hens! As if she wanted his money, indeed! The widow was thoroughly angry. “It’s not the value of the hens I care about,” she snapped. “I don't like to see their heads eaten off by a great, roaring cannibal.” The captain could not help smiling a little, which exasperated her the more. “And Til make bold to tell you, Capt. Maged-

don,” she added, “that it shows » poor spirit for a man to claim he haj only a dog and a nigger for friends, when he might have -—” Here the widow Marjorie felt her self giving way. With a last wrathful look she darted within her dooi and slammed it. After that, when she passed th< captain she looked across the stree' and pretended not to see him. Th* captain continued to salute her gravely, as before. In this way things went on for a month or so. n

There was a certain annual ceremony that the widow Clark nevei neglected. In the little cemetery, eight miles away, lay her two boys —twins, of seventeen, they wer< when they left her on that bright morning, oh! so long ago. She never saw them alive again, and they rest ed there now, under (he soft grass. The husband and father who had brought them home lay there also, now, and when Memorial day—thai most sacred, perhaps, of all American days—came around, the widow laid her blossoms and wreaths on the three mounds. Every year, as the day came around, she hitched up the chunky old mare tc the creaky buggy and drove down the tree-lined road to the place when the dear ones slept. This year she was a little late. The sun had gone down behind the hills when she drove down the smooth gravel road. The turf looked fresh and inviting She strewed her flowers on the mounds—precious task —and sa‘ there for an hour, thinking of those who had rested there so long and sc silently. She felt no grief now; tcalm gladness, rather, that she should be able to care for their sleeping place so well. A feeling of loneliness came over her as she rose to go. The dusk was gathering over the deserted city Oi the dead. Slowly the old horse toiled up the incline. Suddenly the reins were tightened. The woman whe was driving gave a little gasp ol astonishment. She peered through the shrubbery. The stalwart mar sitting upon a moss covered stone with his white head bowed upon his hands was—Capt. Mageddon. The old mare stopped. She stood stock still for five minutes. The man never moved. The dusk grew deepei and the. moon peeped out. Moved by an impulse she could never afterwards explain, Mrs. Clark slowly descended from the buggy. She moved noiselessly over the grass. She approached the stooping figure. “Excuse me, Capt Mageddon/’ she said, softly, “bul will you not let me give yoa a ride home?”

He had risen at the sound of hei voice. “This -is indeed a pleasan surprise, Mrs. Clark,” he said. The traces of tears upon the stern, strong face sent a pang to the good woman's heart. “Captain," sh asked, softly, “are there dear ones ol yours here, too?” “My boy lies there,” answered the old warior, pointing to a slim marble slab. “He was too young to face that hell of war. But he rode by my side like a hero in that last mad charge at Gettysburg, his young face aglow and his fair hair streaming ir the breeze . I can hear his splendid cry of triumph that he gave as the ball struck him; ringing through my ears now: ‘Strike.home, father!’ he yelled, as he rolled from his saddle, and I saw him no more until afterwards. Poor Ned I It killed his mother. I came to your town to be near him, Mrs. Clark. You must excuse an old fellow’s weakness.” And .the veteran covered his face once more.

“Captain,” said the lady, with almost motherly tenderness. “There are two of my darlings sleeping over there—boys of mine who died foi their flag as yours did. Their fathei sleeps with them now. You and I must not grieve for our dead. Tney are perhaps happier than we.” They drove slowly home together in the moonlight, a man and woman both mature in years, who had seen life in all its various phases—love, joy, grief, passion, all the emotions that carry a soul from the cradle tc the inevitable end of all. Who shall say that the peace that came with the sunset of their days was not de served? Harold R. Vynne.

She Becomes Tired to Death.

One great reason why American women of the great middle class sc soon lose high health and the charm of youthful bloom is the fact that they are so weary of the routine of daily life—absolutely tired to death. To go from one piece of housework to another or to the sewing-room without that brief interval of rest which relaxes the tension of the nerves that accompanies any unwonted or vexatious occupation is literally the commission of slow suicide. A rocking-chair in the kitchen or a lounge in the dining-room, with a newspaper-rack or book-shelf Within •reach, is the best kind of restorative for the overtaxed body. To stop at some possible interval of work only long enough to secure the momentary relaxation which enables one to draw a long, free breath is the most sensible tonic possible in the midst of the long day’s work. Let no old-fash-ioned “thorough housekeeper” whose nerver / r e “worn to fiddle-strings” declare against such shiftlessness. Scientists'’say the chemist will dominate' - coming inventions. All our fuel Will presently be furnished in the form of gas. In a quarter of a century more we shall wonder why man was ever such a fool as to carry coal into the house and burn it

THE SCOUT OF THE PAST.

The Railroad and the Telegraph H&ve Taken His Occupation. Chicago Herald. • I The scout of the frotier is like the typical cowboy—a mythical personage in these days of steam and electricity. The recent Indian war was conducted without him, and the travellers on the prairies do not need his services. Trailing is as much an art as is painting or sculpture, and almost as few become proficient in it as in the handling of brush or chisel It requires constant practice and much knowledge of nature to learn it thoroughly. It seems to ; be more natural for an Indian or a Mexican to be a tracer of men or beasts than an A merit-an. They aequireby intuition what the white man learns from a lifetime of study. Occasionally upon the plains an American is found who is an expert, but for the most part the boasted leaders of civilization are far behind the natural-born scouts. It is impossible to realize nowadays the importance of a scout of former times. No party dared cross the plains alone without a professional trailer to lead it, and no marauding band of Indians or whites could be overtaken unless they were tracked across the boundless wastes of sod. A traveller across the plains of New Mexico relates to the writer that one day while liding with a guide he stopped and pointed to a clear and well defined bear’s track in the sand. The guide looked at it attentively a moment, then, without dismounting,deelared: “You are mistaken; it is not a bear’s track.” • Tf lsn’t it?” said the American. “Then I never saw one.” Quickly alighting, the American pointed out the heel and toes of the track as clear and well defined as if made a few minutes before. “Well,” said the guide, “if it does look like a bear’s track, still it isn't one. The marks you imagine to be the heels and toes are made by those spires of grass, which, bent by the wind, scoop out the sand in the manner you see. “You ought to have seen that yourself,” hewenton, “butyoudidn’t stop to think. You Americans never do. Americans travel with their eyes shut and their mouth open. An Indian or Mexican will travel all day without speaking a word to any one unless absolutely necessary, but nothing escapes his observation, while an American will talk continuously and see nothing but the general features of the country through which he travels.” The guide was probably right, for few Americans become adepts at trailing either men or animals across the plains of the West. It is impossible to learn the art from books, though there are a few

general rules which can be observed, for instance, every scout knows that to overtake a party which has perhaps run off some stock provisions must be taken to last several days; that the start must be made slowly and the course followed persistently and at a moderate pace, giving the horses the nights to rest in and start at daylight in the mornings. Then, when the pursuers come near the pursued, it is the scout’s business to tell the number and condition of the enemy and how many hours have elapsed since they passed the spot on which you are standing, for it may become necessary for you to remain concealed until you decide upon the manner of attack, for if the party be made up of Indians they will scatter before you can capture them. Again, any scout can tell whether the trail be that of a war party or not, because no Indians take their families with them on the war path; hence no lodge poles drag behind the ponies. If there is no trace of these it is safe to consider that a war party is on the rampage. It is generally easy to distinguish the track of an Indian’s pony from that of a white man’s horse, as the former will make a smaller impression and will show no imprint of a shoe.

One of the difficult things to determine is the age of the trail, and to do it correctly requires much practice. If the track is very frsh it will show moisture where the earth is turned up, which after a few hours becomes dry. Should rain have fallen the edges will be less clear and will be washed down somewhat. The expert American scout can tell by a glance what tribe of Indians has made a given trail, its age, and every particulai’ about it as truthfully as though he has himself seen the cavalcade pass. A party following an Apache trail during the Indian difficulties of 1883 suddenly came to a ledge of bare rock. The officers of the troops examined it carefully, but could see nothing to indicate where the tribe had gone. But the scout led them for two miles across it as unerringly as though the trail had been made in heavy grass. When asked what told him the way he called attention to a fine moss which covered the rock and that by close scrutiny gave evidence of having been pressed by the foot, an indication so slight that it would have been unnoticed by ninety-nine out of a hundred, yet his keen eye detected every footprint us easily as could be wished. i In the grass a trail can be seen for a long time, as the blades will be bent in (he direction followed by the -party, and even after it has recovered its natural position an expert trailer will detect a slight difference in the color of the gras* that has been

| stepped on and that growing around ; So the appearance of the track; will also show him the gait at whicl s the party was traveling,, and he thu; knows how to regulate his pacq it order to overtake it. It is rare to find a white persor. who can retrace his steps for any great distance in the open country, but it is simply impossible todose ar Indian. No matter how circuitous the route by which you have reached a certain place, the Indian will fine his way back to place of starting by the most direct route, and with out hesitating for a moment as tc which course to pursue. If you ask him how he does it he may possibly shrug his shoulders and reply, “Quien sabe?” or “Who knows?” though the chances are he will not reply at all.” No matter how affable and entertaining he may b« • in camp, he will talk little while on< the move. But trailing is not all the scout’s knowledge. Besides having an intimate acquaintance with the country, he also knows how to hail any passing bands of Indians or other tribes. The tribe signs are as numerous as the tribal divisions themselves. The approach of an Indian party is stopped by holding up the right hand. Passing it back and forward before the face means “Who are you?” as plain as words can say it. Then comes the answer. The Comanche makes a motion like the course of a snake. Comanche meaning snake. The Arapahoes (smellers) take the nose between the thumb and fore finger. The Cheyennes (meaning cut arm) draw the hand across the arm as if to saw it off. The Pawnees (wolves) put their two hands to their foreheads with their fingers pointing ahead, like a wolf s ears pricked up at an unexpected sound, while the Sioux (or cut throats) draw their hands across their throats. All these things are in the mind ol the scout, and are as familiar to him as the rising of the sun. In addition, he knows something of astronomical lore so far as it tells of the directions indicated by the stars. He is as infallible as a barometer in predicting weather changes, and his acquaintance with wild beasts would be a bo-. nanza to a naturalist. One of the oldest scouts in thq country died a few months ago at an advanced age. His name was Silas Lambert, and his first experience was a thrilling one in connection with Fort Meigs and Gen. William Henry Harrison. A heavy force ol Indians and British under Proelot and Tecumseh were attacking the fort, when Lambert was sent out to reconnoitre the opposing forces. He reached a place where he could catch sight of the camp, but suddenly he was aware of beinsr discovered. The Indians who were with the British soldiers had seen his approach, and he found himself face t a face with 200 redskins and several soldiers. A half-dozen rifles were levelled at him and escape seemed but knowing he would be shot as a spy if taken Lambert turned and fired. None of the shots fired at him hit their mark, and eight Indians, dropping their guns, started after him with only tomahawks and knives as weapons. Lambert was a fleet runner, and the redskins in pursuit were soon separated by their various degrees of speed. Noticing that the fleetest was far in advance the scout suddenly turned and killed him with his knife, having first pretended to fall from exhaustion and waited for the Indian’s approach. By the time this manoeuvre was excuted the others were close at hand, and Lambert again took to his heels. The race kept up until nightfall, when in the darkness Lambert was able to dodge his pursuers and so escape back to the fort with his information.

During the Mexican war and in several campaigns on the frontier Lambert served the government well, and his expertness in trailing made him much sought after. In spite of his hazardous life he never received a severe wound, and died at the age of niriety-three. In addition to flhe prairie signs the old-time scouts were also expert in deciphering the marks on trees or saplings in the frontier forests. These were as plain to the scout as the broadest highway, and the signals of the Indians were known as well as are the indications of the weather service the modern student. The exodus to California in 1849- 52 was an opportunity for fame money for the scouts. They v ere in the most demand at that time oi in their history. To lead a train bl emigrants across the trackless prairies was no slight task, and the man who could detect a wagon’s track after the expiration of several months was by no means to be despised. It is related that many wagon trains en route to the Rockies were led astray by a wheelbarrow track which was made by some prospectors, who, with their horses gone, took a barrow to carry .their mining tools across the country to their camp. The wagon teams, seeing this track in the soft sod, thought it a trail,and after a mile or two brought up on the banks of a stream where the prospectors had boarded a flatboat and departed. Angry, they would retrace their steps, only to make the trail more plain for the next compas e scout was a prominent feature of the novels of J. Fenimore Cooper; he shone in the frontier tales of a score of years ago; he was found here and there in the Southwest in the last decade, but now his glory is departed. Telegrams can be sent over nearly all his trails and the distance coursed by a Pullman car.

ANCIENT LONDON

What Lies Beneath the Pavements of \ the Modern City. * Harper’s Magazine for May, To form a true conception of the Roman city we must sweep away all the accumulated results of modern art ands industry. We must create atabula rasa, and remove, as the mere figments of fancy, the Cathedral, the Abbey, the Tower, the swarming throngs of Cheapside, and the endless squares of brick buildings that shelter the millions of the London of to-day; dissolve the splendid vision, and think only of the past. Confined within the narrow limits of these walls, its greatest length the river-front, its greatest breadth between Cripplegate and the Thames, we see the Roman city. It is enclosed by a wall of stone-work andeement from twenty to thirty feet high. Towers or castella appear at intervals. It was built upon the plan of all other Roman cities, and resembled Pompeii or Lindum. Its four chief streets, at least forty feet wide, met in its forum; they were perfectly straight and free from sinuosities. The Roman engineers laid out their strata with unchanging regularity. Every street was paved with smooth stone, like those of Pompeii. Be neath the streets ran the sewers and water-pipes —we may assume—so invariably found in every Roman city. It i| impossible to determine Exactly the site of the London forum; it is only probable that there must have been one. We may, however, infer, from evidence too detailed and minute to enter upon here, that the forum stood upon the oldest part of Roman London, viz., south of Cornhill and east of the Mansion House. It is by no means certain that there was a forum. But an inscribed tile seems to show that the seat of government of the province was at London. Those, nowever, who consider the later imgortance of Roman London can ardly believe that it had no public buildings. At first an insignmeant town, although a port of some trade for more than two centuries it controlled the exports and imports of the entire island. Its wharves were filled with animation, its harbor with ships of burden. Ail the authorities point to London as a center of commercial activity. So complete Was the security in which South Britain remained for centuries, under the protection of Hadrian’s wall and the fortified cities of the west, that London was left without any other defence than a strong castle on the banks of the river until the age of Constantine. Unlike nearly all the other Roman cities, it had no walls, was unprotected even by a ditch and lay open on all sides to attack. At last, however, at some unknown period, but between the years 350 and 369, by some unknown hand, the Roman wall was built. Its extent may easily be traced; fragments of it still remain; and recently, at an excavation made by the railway company, a party of antiquarians were enabled to study and exploie more than one hundred feet in length of these ancient defences. Saxon and Dane, Norman and Englishman, have in the long course of fifteen centuries altered, overthrown, or rebuilt them; but their course and circuit was never changed. The Roman wall fixed the limit of the city, and its venerable fragments still recall the days when the last Roman legions marched down the Dover street, when Alfred restored the wall, or when Pym and Hampden found within its shelter the citadel of modern freedom.

LITTLE JIM’S COMPOSITION. ,

? THE HORSE. Arkansaw Traveller. My ma sed if I’d write a composition on the hoss, she’d give me all the jelly I could hold. I’m ten years old and big of my age, and it will take good deal of jelly, pa says. There is ever so many kinds of hosses. There is the red hoss, and the roan hoss, and the bob-tailed hoss, and the old mare, and the saw hoss, and the clothes hoss, and the salt hoss that pa et in the army, and the balky hoss, besides some other hosses. They live to be nine years old. You tell their age by their teeth, and most any man can do it. When you want to drive a hoss, you put a bit in his mouth, comb out his mane and tail and take your best girl, and say “g’lang,” and he g’langs, unless he happens to be a balky hoss, and then he starts on his behind legs, and flourishes his forward feet. Then you whip* him, and he stand on his beforward feet, and flourishes his behind legs, and if you don’t look out J'ou’ll think you’ve been struck by ightning. The hoss is the man’s best friend. He is a skeery critter, and you have to keep your eyes on him, or you’ll get upsot and have to sue the town for damages. If he got skeered, he’d just as soon run rite down over a precipice fifty thousand feet high, with his best friend clinging to the rigginm as not. The hoss eats oats, and hay, and corn, and hitching posts. He ain't 1 a very healthy animal, and he has all ! kinds" of diseases, which come mostly on his legs. This disease is called “outs.” If you buy a hoss of anybody, you’ll "always get cheated and tother feller will get rich. Hosses top their ears at girls, because girls is afraid of them, and they know it — the hosses does. I’m glad I ain’t a girl. I Tue hoss, when he’s a mule, is liable to kick you. Mules have long

ears, and awful set minds.. They’rv as contrary as Aunt Jane, and shec set up nights to plan how not to de something you wanted her to do. Aunt Jane’s got money, so I won’t say no more. I wish I had a mule, though 1 should rather have a mustang with brans on his sides, like Charley Payne’s got on his’n, and a mustang would buck Tommy Jones off over his head into the mud if he got on him! Tommy Jones is a bad boy? He let all my fish-worms loose, and they was beautiful worms, too! and my sister Minnie’s hen and rooster el ’em up! If I was goin’ to be a hoss, I should like to be a hearse hoss, which has tc go slow and look solium, and wear a Slume in his head jest as Gin’ral Jern’s does on training days! Hosses is wiith all the way from fifty cents up to five millions dollars —jest as they oan get it over the road. If I could have my choice I’d have a two-mi nit one, thoughl should ruther have a bicycle. If you whip your hoss, along comes a women thai belongs to the S. P. C. A. and arrests you. Then you swear at her, and she has you fined. Hosses is going out of fashion. Thunder and fitening is going to run the hoss car. You can always trade hosses with anybody, but it takes time and a good deal of talk. Hoss trotting is wicked, but a 10l of real good people go to hoss trots by mistake, and when they get there they stay till it’s over, so’s not to disturb talks by going out. And this is almost all I know about the hoss. ' ’. ■ .

PRECIOUS STONES.

Where They Are Found in the United States and the Value of the Output. Superintendent Porter, of the Census Bureau, yesterday issued a bulletin upon the subject of precious stones, diamond-cutting and lapidary work in the United States. The bulletin shows that up to the present time there has been very little mining for precious or semi-precious stones in the United States,and then only at irregular periods. This is particularly true of diamonds, of which only a very limited number have been found. They have been discovered in certain districts in California, North Carolina, Georgia, and recently in Wisconsin, but the discoveries have been rare and purely accidental. Sapphires of inferior col or have been found near Helena, Mont. The emerald and other beryl gems have been raided to some extent in Alexander county, North Carolina, on Mount Antero, Colorado and at Stoneham, Me. The turquois and garnets have been found in Arizonia and New Mexico. The entire production of the precious and semiprecious stones and ornamental minerals in the United States during the year 1889 was $188,807. Of this amount $53,175 was agatized and japerized wood, $24,675 turquoise stones and $14,000 quartz. Diamonds to the value of $1,066,716 were cut during the year in the nineteen lapidary works in New York and Massachusetts. The importation oi rough and uncut diamonds in 1880 amounted to $129,207, in 1889 to $250,187 and the total for the decade was $3,133,529, while in 1883 there were imported $443,996 worth, showing that there was 94 per cent, more cutting done in 1889 than in 1880, but markedly more in 1882 and 1883. The imports of diamonds and other precious stones noted during the past four years are given, as follows: 1886, $9,254,438; 1887, $10,686,403; 1888, $10,223,630; 1889, $11,705,809.

Shall We Travel in Balloons?

The belief in the possibility of sue cessful aerial navigation still retains its hold on the minds of many intelligent men. A French scientist now proposes to make a scientific expedition to the north pole. He proposes to construct a balloon of lined silk, 30 meters in diameter and having a cubic capacity of 14,121 meters. The balloon will be covered with a special varnish which will insure its absolute ’imperviousness. It will be filled witty pure hydrogen, and its car will be constructed on a novel plan especially suitable for a polar expedition. It is calculated that the aerial voyage will last four or five days. It is proposed to start from Spitsbergen, and it is hoped that it will end. on the North American continent or in the northern part of Asia. This is by far the most important journey which has yet been attempted in a balloon and, if successful, it will teach many lessons not only in aerial ; navigation but also in many departments of physical science. Experiments are being made in another department of air traveling by Lawrence Hargrave, in Sydney, N. S. W. Mr. Hargrave holds to the feasibility of a flying machine in which screw propellers or flapping wings are used, and in his latest attempts he used as prime mover a Brotherhood engine driven by compressed air, which was found to give a trustworthy source of power. These ex-, periments have raised a doubt as to whether the balloon is even a step, in the right, direction of solving the aerial problem. They,, at all events, have demonstrated from the facts they have brought out as the flight of birds that we stltrhdvtf a great deal to-learn <as to life, and their further ihvc&tTg’at’iob opens up a wide field alike to the The twenty-ninth international con ven<ipn of Young. Men s Christian ‘As.sdi-iatidrtifhfcets its ; <ansaa GiV»; Moi, May G-10.