Bloomington Telephone, Volume 8, Number 23, Bloomington, Monroe County, 4 October 1884 — Page 6

A song or SUtrCNCC - - - BT XIZXXTB WOOD WORTH U1S1 2 will sing a son f sixpence And yon na ay laugh or cry : The green grias grew, the wind t- blew; And my iady pAaed me byl We met at the old church door; Hbe In her silken gown; ' The dre im in her eyes as of yore; Bat she looked not up box down. The birds flew lift, the birds flew right; Thv a&t in tha windv trees.

And sang and sang: and there in the light,

My lady sank on ner Knees. Did she pray for sins to be fowiven? Bid she count her flirting sin? Did she pray that the gates or Heaven Would open, and let her in? Was it wrong a fool to cheat. And with his heart to play? To shake it off poor dost at her feet And smiling go her way? Hey, fool! Hey, love and hate! T atnnri mA ther mt the door:

The folic come in through the clanging gate,

Ana i saw Bar nee once more. The dream was still in her eyes; What lare dream could it be? Saint Barbara in Paradise, Locked not more lair than she. Heigh-ho my song of sixpence! The blossoms were white and red

The church bell rang; the little birds sang.

- A singing over the dead. I laughed: "Oh, lady , we part Yet come to our graves we must Yon with your face, and I with my heart. For we axe both made of duatr I have sungmy song of sixpence; . And have yon anght to siy? All the world known, love comes, love goes; And we break our hearts? Nay, nay I St, Louis Maaasine.

The Adventures of a Trasedy. Perhaps one of the most curious episodes of the history of the modern drama is to be found in the experience of M. Legouve in bringing before the public his well-known tragedy of Medea, which was written expressly for Mile. KacheL The great success of Adrienne Lecouyreur had encouraged him to set to work anew to create a character for the great but capricious actress to personate And, apropo3e of Adrinne, M. Legouve has revealed to the world some little time ago the fact that the wonderfully touching scene in the last act, when Adrienne, dying and delirious, repeats in her frenzy fragments of her roles, and fancies herself upon the stage, was taken literally from real life. "Mademoiselle was dying," writes M. Legouve, "At her bedside a pious priest, the Abbe Gallard, knelt in prayer. Suddenly from the lips of the delirious and dying woman came articulate words, connected phrases, which were incomprehensible to him What were these words? Whole passages of Fausees Confidence, of the Jen de V Amour et du Hassard, and of Le Legs; the dying woman was rehearsing her roles. Her countenance, wasted by illness, gained a new animation to represent these thearetioal personages; her voice assumed their accents, and then, pausing from time to timo. aha would harkon an one who is

listening ind who applauds. She bei came her own audience. This persistence of the love of art and the remembrance of art even in death produced upon me ft strong impression. I saw in it a novel and interesting effect for the fifth act of Adrienne," Yet Legouve rude as was the blow thus dealt to his aspirations and ambition writes with peculiar tenderness respecting this strange, gifted, contradictory creature, who resembled no person living so much as she did the Cleopatra of Shaispeare in the' contrasted elements of her character, in her sudden transitions from the dignity of an empress to the wild freaks of a'treet boy. And in the wonderful mingling of the best and the meanest traits of feminine humanity in her nature. Once, when she was playing Virginia, M. Legouve surprised her in her ' dressing-room dancing tha can-can in

ner classic robes. There is an anecdote of her in the earlier portionbf her career which paints her to the life. During these first years her great genius, her untarnished reputation, and the interest excited fay her youth and her personal charms caused some of the greatest ladies of the severe society of the Faubourg St Germain to take her under their protection. One of these, who bore one of the noblest titles and proudest names in France, visaing to demonstrate in the fullest and most public manner her respect for the great actress, took Mile. Rachel out to drive with her in an open carriage in the Bois de Boulogne, placing her daughter oh the front seat, while her gifted guest sat beside her. On returning from this drive Mile. Rachel, on entering tfie drawing-room sank on one knee before her hostess, and sobbed out, with streaming eyes : "Oh, Madame la Duchesee, such a proof of your esteem as that which yon have now given me is more precious to me than ail my talent!9 The motion of the mother and daughter can well be imagined. They raised their cherished guest from iliA crniiml &nd MnKrtAMi hnr f mult v.

8hortly after she took her leave. The drawing-room was preceded by two smaller ones, through which it was necessary to pass in order to reach the outer door. Mile. Bachel on departing passed through these two rooms without perceiving that the younger daughter of the house had accompanied her part of the way as a farther mark of attention. Arrived at the last door, and fancying that she was alone, Mile. Bachel on opening it turned around and executed in the direction of the drawing-room that gesture of supreme and vulgar contempt which consists in putting one's ringers to one's nose in the faslnon known in France as a pied de nez Unfortunately this last door was panelled with mirrors which re fiected the gesture of the actress. It was therefore perfectly visible in the inner room, in which was the young girl, who hastened, choking withindignation, to tell her mother what she -had seen The success of Adrienne . induced Mile. Bai-hel tc revive one of Iegouve's ewlier plays, Louise de Lignerolles. Having impersonate t the heroine, with marked success, she next implored Legouve to write a tragedy especially for her. The dramatist turned his attention to a subject that had always tempted him, namely, Medea. One scene in particular in the Greek drama had made an especial impression on his imagination. It is that where n Creusa

receives xrozn iuecua ue giiM w a

golden diadem and a silken mantle, wheerein the young princess decks herself only to die, poisoned and in agony. M. Legouve oenceived the idea of making Media her own messenger, and of causing her to be present at the death of her rival. He set to work, and after a year of assiduous toil he brought his tragedy to Mile Bachel. The capricious actress raised at first a thousand objections ; she did not like to play another clasio personage ; she had never impersonated a mother; she would not know how to render the accents of maternal feeling. Finally she consented to play the part, and throw herself into her studies with as much ardor as she had shown in studying Adrienne or Louise de Lignerolles. Her next idea was to persuade the author to cut out the grand scene, that of the death of Creusa. He acceded to all her wishes and the reheralswere proceeding prosperously, when one d ay Mile. Rachel

setoff for Russia, relinquishing her studies of Medea, which were never afterward resumed. On her return from Russia, Mile. Bachel made a formal annc uncement of her intention not' to play Medea. M. Legouve then brought suit against her, and gained his cause, partly through a rather CQmical incident. M. Cramieux was Mile. Rachel's lawyer, and he thought to serve the cause of his client by reciting in a burlesque - manner certain passages of the role of Creuza. Unfortunately for his cause, these lines were simply a close tr anslation of a famous passage in Euripides. M. Mathieu, the lawyer for Legouve, seized eagerly on this advantage, and after quietly calling attention to the fact that his adversary had been ridiculing not M. MathieUj but Euripides, he continued: "Moreover, gentlemen, had these lines proved a failure, that would have proved nothing. They are placed in the mouth of a young and lovely princess, a youthful bride with her hands filled with flowers and her heart full of love. M. Cremieux does not look the character, it seems to me." This allusion to the proverbial ugliness of M. Cremieux set every one bo laughing, and the day was won. But the success of the lawsuit availed nothing in the way of bringing Medea on the stage. M. Legouve published his tragedy, which achieved a very marked literary . succefis, passing rapidly through several editions. Still he was but half consoled, when one day he learned that the famous Italian actress, Madame Bistori, had arrived in Paris with the intention of giving a series of representations. The name of this young artiste was not unknown to the dramatist. Some years before, Madame Allan, of the Comedy Francaise, had said to him: "Whilst at Turin I went to the theater. I saw there a wonderful young tragic actress,

a woman of genius. She is called Adelaide Bistori19 M. Legouve hastened to witness the first representation given by the new actress at the Theatre It alien.

The play was the revolting but power

ful Mirra of Alfleri The dramatist has left on record his impressions: "I

shall never forget my surprise and my

emotion. I was under the influence of a revelation. A new art unfolded itself

before me. The powerful play of the

physiognomy, the audacity of the ges

tures, the amplitude movement, those glances, those lips from which passion poured in torrents, that voice which

rose to the highest notes of the soprano

hind the scenes to present his congrat

ulations to the actress. Madame Bis

tori, as soon as he was introduced, declared herself charmed at the meeting. She had successively played' the three roles of his Louise de Lignerolles, and

she begged him to write a tragedy expressly for her. MI have one ready," M. Legouve made answer. " 'It's name?"' 'Medea 'Medea which Mile. Bachel 9 'Befused to play 'Yes, that is trne. But I think she made a

mistake. At all events, will you read the piece?" This ehe promised to do,

and I sent her a copy the next morning.

Three months elapsed, and I thought

no more of the matter, when one day I received a letter from Madame Bistori's agent begging me to call to settle the

terms of translation, etc., of Medea."

The facts in the case were briefly as

follows: Madame Bistori had carried off the piece in her trunk, not liking. to

wound M. Legouve by a flat refusal, yet

fully convinced that the play must be a very poor one to have been so summarily rejected by Bachel. One day, while get ting her hair dressed, she took up the play and began to turn over th pages. Some passages struck her; she read on for some little time, and then, suddenly starting up, she rushed, with her hair half arranged, into her husband's room. "Either Mile. Bachel has a mortal hatred for M. Legouve, or she is mad!" she cried. "Medea is one of the finest acting parts for a woman that I have ever met with." The tragedy, after ha.ving been translated by the Italian poet Montaneili, was cast and mounted in eleven days. Unlike Mile. Bachel, jvho at rehearsals never saw anything beyond her own part, Madame Bistori infused the vitality of her genus into every personage of the piece. She taught Jason how to be brutal, and Orpheus how to be poetic; she imparted pathos to Creusa, and childish grace to the children. Finally Medea was brought out at the Theater Italian, in Paris, with an immediate and overwhelming success. Mile, Bachel had quitted the city in order not to be present on the occasion. She had previously assisted, hidden in the depth of a baignoire, at one of Bistori's representations of Marie Stuart. She remained till the grand scene between the two queens brought down the house in thunders of applause. Then, unable to witness any longer the magnificent acting of her rival, she left the theater precipitately. A few nights later, Madame Bistori, who had played Phedre some time before with comparatively little success, went to see Bachel in that role. Bachel, electrified by beholding her rival amongst the spectators, that night surpassed herself The great Italian actress was almost wild with enthusiasm. Loaning over the front of her box, she followed every movement, every glance of Phedre, she gave the signal for applause, and was the last to cease applauding. Each actress had acknowledged the geaiup

of the other after her own fashion. The one fled to weep ; the other remained to applaud. Madame Bistori was superstitious like most Italians, even the most gifted. M. Legonue tells a little anecdote of the first representation of Medea, which illustrates this not unamiable weakness on the part of the great actress. After the first act. which had been one long

triumph for her, he writes : "I went to her dressing room. 'My dear friend she cried, on seeing me, 'the success of your last two acts is assured. Look!' I looked, and saw a large gray cat installed upon her lap. 'What has the cat to do with our play ? I asked her, laughingly. 4You do not recognize it?' 'No 'He was present at our rehearsals. He is the cat of the theatre. I have seen him a dozen times come and sit beside thfe prompter's box whilst I rehearsed. I never would allow him to be driven away, I should have been afraid that it would have brought us ill luck; but I watched him anxiously. Why is he always there ? I wonder. He actually seems to be interested 1 burst out laughing. 'Laugh away she said, half jestingly, half seriously; 'you French are all heathen. You have no superstitious ideas; but I believe most firmly in presentiments. So when this cat just now entered my dressing-room (where he had never come before) and sprang into my lap, I said to myself, it is a good omen And at the end of the play, as soon as she saw me, she cried, 'Well, was not the cat right?1 " The great success of Madame Bistori in Medea was not confined to France. Sue appeared in it both in America and England, winning fame for herself and applause for the tragedy with every representation. Had it not been for the precipitate flight of Mile. Sarah Bernhardt from the Comedie Francaise, Medea would have been revived at that theatre with the brilliant and erratic actress in the title rele. But her departure has left M. Perrin without a leading actress capable of sustaining so exacting a character, and Madame Bistori remains the only personator of Medea on the French boards.

Living Cameos and Bas-Beliefs. This fascinating entertainment can be prepared by children, at short notice, with very little trouble or expense. The articles required are two sheets of large card boards, two sheets of pink tissue paper, and two sheets of white cotton wadding, one ball of white and one of pink velvet chalk, a lead pencil, a pair of scissors, six yards of black cambric, a few tacks, and a little paste. One sheet of cardboard is fastened on the side wall of a darkened room, so that the shadow of the faoe of a person with large and regular features will fall upon the centei of it when a lighted candle is held in front of the side of the faoe at a distance of three feet. A cup should be placed between the faoe and the cardboard and kept in position by the pressure of the head, in order, so far as possible, to prevent any movement on the part of the sitter. The candle must be so placed that the shadow of the profile is in the center of the card board ; the outlines are then to be traced with a pencil. The card board can then be taken down and the profile carefully cut out; the back of the had usually being enlarged, so that various methods of dressing the hair may be permitted. This white card board will be ready for the bas-relief after the outer edge has been cut into the form of a circle and made, thicker by several rings of pasteboard of the same diameter, but only three inches wide. When cameos are to be exhibited, the outer surface should be covered

with pink tissue paper. A curtain of cheap black cambric or any plain-colored material, reaching from the ceiling to the floor, is then hung at a distance of about two feet from the baqk wall of the room where the exhibition is to take place. The cardboard is fastened into a hole made in the curtain, so that the center of the opening is about six or seven feet from floor, the and a chair or small table is placed close behind this curtain and another small piece of black cloth is tacked to the wall behind the opening. The person whose face is to form the bas-relief stands upon a chair or table so that the face fits the opening in the card board, about one-half of it projecting inJront of the frame thus formed. The side-face thus exposed is chalked and the hair is covered with white wadding, which conceals it, and also can be fastened in waves, plaits, or classic knots; for cameoes, pink chalk, and tissue paper take the place of the white. Very pretty art studies can thus be made by inexperienced persons. When it is desired to show several of these art studies consecutively, it will be well to have a pink and white frame placed side by side about one foot apart, as then they may be shown together or separately ; the one not in use being covered with a little curtain of black cambric. Th us a pleasing variety can be produced by showing either a cameo or a bas-relief or both together. Faces of children or of grown people can be used as desired, as it is not absolutely necessary that the features should exactly fill the cut profiles in the card board. The eyes are always closed, and a little calk should be rubbed on the eyelids juslrbefore the face is shown to the spectators. The frames may be placed between thick window cnrtaing draped above and below them: this will save the trouble of a black curtain, as the performers can thand in the window behind the curtain. The best manner of lighting them is from the top ; and when the room has no chandrlier, a lamp can be held at the left side as high as can bed one conveniently by a person who sands upon a chair or short step-ladder. George B. Bartieite, in St. Nicholas. There are 100,000 deaths yearly in London, and all the bodies are buried in the surface soil around the city, that is, in thirty years 3 000,000 bodies. In twenty years, says Sir Spencer Wells, a body becomes claj, and London has, therefore always 2,000,000 bodies undergoing "harmful decay." The much boasted at beautiful present is woven, in the loom of time, out of the tangled tatters, worn-out; patches, and cast-off shreds of a long-forgotten past Goutemeur Herald.

C AKip FOR CHILDREN Helpful Paragraph for Many An Anxloui Alother; If a baby cries warm its feet before you dose it. Remember that other people have children as well as yourself. As they gxow older, win their confidence; if you do not, somebody else will. Show the children that yon love them; do not expect them to take it on trust. Cultivate them separately, and not as if you were turning thorn out by machinery. Sing to the little ones; the memory of a nursery song will cling to them through life. Let the children make a noise sometimes; their happiness is as important as your nerves. As the boys grow up, make companions of them; then they will not seek companionship elsewhere. Believe in a child's statement until you are sure they are incorrect; mistrust breeds estrangement. Dress the children sensibly, cover up their limbs in winter, and study health first and appearance second. Allow children, as the v grow older, to have opinions of their own; make them individuals and not mere echoes. As long as it is possible kiss them good night after they are in bed; they do like it so, and it keeps them very close. Talk hopeful to your children of life and its possibilities ; you have no right to depress them because you have Buffered. Bear in mind that you are largely responsible for your child's inherited character, and have patience with faults and failings. Attend to them yourself; a go-between betwixt mother and child is like a middle-man in business, who gets the largest share of the profits. ' Reflect that a pert child is an abomination ; train your children to be respectful and to hold their tongues in the presence of their superiors. Remember that, although they are all your children, each one has an individual character, and that tastes and

qualities vary indefinitely.

Respect their little secrets; if they have concealments, worrying them will never make them tell, and patience will probably do their work. 1 Remember that without physical health mental attainment is worthless; let them lead free, happy lives, which will strengthen both mind and body. Make your boys and girls study physiology; when they are ill try and make them understand why, how the complaint arose, and the remedy as far as you know it. Teach boys and girls the actual facts of life as soon as they are old enough to understand them, and give them a sense of responsibility without saddening them. Impress upon them from early infancy that actions have results, and that they cannot escape consequences even by being sorry wheu they have acted wrongly. Find out what their special tastes are, and develop them instead of spending time! money, and patience in forcing them into studies that are repugnant to them. As your daughters grow up, teach them at least the true' merits of housekeeping and cookery ; they will thank you' for it in later life a great deal more than for accomplishments. Maintain a respectful tone to their father before them; if he is not all you wish, still make them resect him ; he is always their father, and disrespect to him is a reflection upon yourself. Try and .sympathize with girlish flights of fancy, even if they seem absurd to you ; by so doing you will retain your influence over your daughters, and not teach them to seek sympathy elsewhere. A Rabbit Subdues A Boa Constrictor. According to a Paris newspaper, a rabbit was placed in a cage of one of the larger serpents in the Jar des Plantes, for the daily meal of the occupant. A poorer specimen of the rabbit tribe, in point of appearance, it would not be easy to find; but it was noticed that the little creature had a peculiarly knowing and determined look. The boa hissed joyously at the sight of his

dinner, and at once put all the power of fascination he possessed into his large round eyes. But the rabbit was not to be fascinated. Boldly, and even defiantly, he returned the reptile's stare, till the latter, finding milder means of no avail, proceeded to unfold one of his coils. This menacing movement had the effect of producing a most marvelous display of saltatory activity on the part of the rabbit. His wild bounds and jumps, which he kept up uninterruptedly for several minutes, moving his ears terribly the while could only be compared to those of a red Indian "brave" in the heat of a war dance. The boa, who was evidently unaccustomed to such a show of ight on the part of his victims, drew back, thoroughly intimidated. Profiting by this moment of hesitation, the rabbit, who was decidedly the Bayard of his race, jumped upon the back of his adversary who now, utterly cowed and discomfited, retreated under the folds of his blanket. The rabbit squatted himself on his hind-quarters at the other end of the cage in an attitude ot expectation ; and in those positions so the veracious history ends both animals were found by the keeper next morning, SL James Gazette. The Death-Struck Fall Forward. The critics do not seem to have no ticed at least they have not commented upon the natural way in which Henry Irving counterfeits the death struggle upon the stage. The American actors invariably fall backwards when they oome to the death scene in their tragedies; Mr. Irviog falls forward full upon his free, and this, we are told by physicians and soldiers, is the natural way with those suddenly overtaken by death. In a recent conversation, Capt. Lee, of the regular army, said that Irving's death in "Louis XI" was the most natural bit of acting he had ever seen. He had been a witness of numerous shooting affairs upon the border, and he had noticed that when a man was

shot his head fell forward upon his

breas and his body fell in the direction indicated by the head. Oapt. Lee, visited the field of Gettysburg the day after the battle and he found the dead ninety-nine out of one hundred cases lying flat upon their faces. American painters invariably represent the dead upon the battle field as lying upon their backs. Perhaps they do this for the purpose of delineating death upon the countenances. The French painters as invariably represent the dead with their faces downward, preferring to more subtly convey the idea of death by an outstretched arm, a convulsively clutched hand, or some other small but hideously artistic detail of the phenomenon of death. Irving is the only actor we know of who has defied every stage tradition and custom, and dies on the stage as people off the stage die. The innovation is a pleasing one, and should pass into custom. Chicago News. s Women- s Sixth Sense. Here is a singular instance of the working of that ctubtle, fine, sixth sense, which is apt to affect women more than men, and which is so mysterious in character that we often incline to deny its existence at all. A lady sat sewing quietly in her room, and in an inner chamber the nurse had just put the baby to sleep and laid her in her basinette. As the nurse came out of the chamber she said to her mistress : "The little ihing is asleep for three hours, ma'm I'll warrant." The nurse went down stairs, and for about a minute the mother sewed on. Suddenly a desire seized her to go and take the sleeping child from its crib, "What nonsense!" she said to herself. "Baby is sound asleep. Nurse just put her down. I shall not go." Instantly, however, some power, stonger aven than the last, urged the mother to go to her baby; and, after a moment, she rose, half vexed with herself, and went to her chamber. The baby was asleep in her little bed, safely, tucked in with soft white and pink blankets. One small hand was thrown above the little brown head. It was half open, the exquisite fingers slightly curved, and the palm as rosy as tho depths of a lovely shell. "My baby 1 " whispered the mother, adoring the little sleeper as mothers will. "My own little baby!" She bent over suddenly a third time, impelled by that mysterious force that was controlling her, and, for no apparent reason, took the sleeping baby in her arms and went swiftly in the other room. She had scarcely crossed the threshold when a startling sound caused her to look back. Through a stifling cloud of thick clay dust she saw that

the ceiling above the baby's cradle had fallen, burying the heap of rosy blank

ets, and lying heaviest of all upon that

spot where, but for her mystic warning,

her little child would have been lying. Boston Courier. Why She Didn'U

A young woman from the country

was suing her ex-sweetheart for breach

of promise, and the lawyers were, as usual, making all sorts of inquisitive

interrogatories.

"You said," remarked one, "that the

defendant frequently sat very close to

you?" "Yes, sir," was the reply, with a hectic flush. "How close?'' "Close enough, so's one cheer was all the sittin' room we needed." "And you say he put his arm around vou?" "No, I didn't." "What did you say, then?" 'I said he put both arms around ma" "Then what?" "He hugged me?" "Very hard?" "Yes, he did. So hard that I came purty near hollerin' right out" "Why didn't you 'holler?'" "Cause." "That's no reason. Be explicit, please. Because what ?w "'Cause I was afreerd he'd stop." "The Court fell off the bench and had to be carried out and put under the hydrant for the purpose of resuscitation." Merchant Traveler. A Far-fcighted Official. Bank President "My dear, I suppose you know that I am not only the President of the bank, but the owner of moat of the stock ?" Daughter "Yes, pa." "And if I am not mistaken you are becoming rather fond of Mr. Light

finger, my cashier? "Yea, pa; I confess it is true. But how do you know?" "I have eyes. But why have you tried so hard to conceal this from me?" "O, pa, please forgive me; but I knew you would object to marriage with a poor man, and dreading your terrible anger, I have tried my best to conquer my feelings. Indeed, indeed, I have!" "Conquer them? Great St Bullion! I want you to marry him as soon as possible!" "O, you dear, darling old pa! But what has wrought this strange metamorphosis?" "O, nothing; only I thooght it would be just as well to keep all the bank funds in the family Philadelphia Call t A Sunshiny Husband A sunshiny husband makes a merry, beautiful home worth having, worth working in and for. If the man is breezy, cheery, considerate, and sympathetic, his wile sings in her heart over her puddings and her mending basket, and renews her youth im the security she feels of his approbation and, admiration. You mav think it weak or childish, if you please, bir; it is the admired wife, who. hears words of praise and receives smiles of commendation, who is capable, discreet, and executive. I have seen a timid, meek, self-distrusting little body, fairly bloom into strong, self-reliant womanhood, under the tonic and the cordial of companionship of a husband who really went out of his way to find occasion for showing her how fully he trusted her jud nient and how fully he deferred to her ppinion. 27 e Household. Heaven must be a beautiful place, but if there's a mud-puddle handy a 4-year old boy will take it in prefer ence.

A SHORT TALB WITH THE BOYS. BY X. QUAJ. Now, my lad, if you have arrived at the age of 16 it is time you began to think of a trade or profession. This isn't a country in which yon can live on your fathers name or money for any;' length of time, and oven if yon are calculating on coming into fxssession of a comfortable fortune at yonr majority you may see the day before yon are 40 that a trade would clothe and feed you. Ninety-nine out of every hundred' young men of to-day must make their own future. What that future will be depends, first, upon how yon start in.1 It is easy enough to answer that yon intentjl to become a merchant, lawyer, doctor, editor, dentist, mechanic, ear penter, watchmaker, and so on, but just wait a minute and examine yourself.' Take your horse to the blacksmith shop and you may see the smith look over a' hundred ready-made shoes before hot gets one to fit. All are horseshoes, but' a perfect fit is the question. Now,thenH examine yourself and seek to di&cover what particular fort you have. You': were born to fill a certain place in the world. It may be that of a carper tor or it may be that of a poet. Make no mistake in starting out. When you hear a man who has nothing in particular to work at wishing that he had learned a trade, he is talking nonsense. He had no fitness for one. Had he set out to learn one of the dozen you can name he would have been a failure. Every city has dozens of lawyers and doctors who live starva-j tion lives, and more or less preachers)

and artists who are seldom, if ever, mentioned bv name. These men are mistakes. They have no heart in their

professions, and never belonged there. J I can name yon carpenters, painters, blacksmiths, wagon-makers, and others, who are out of work half the time, and I the other half is mostly consumed in kicking and complaining against the times. It is their own fault. They are! botch, workmen. It iiJ like putting an! accordion under a piano and expecting j it to play piano xiusic. Had each) learned the trade he was fitted for haj would have excelled. You have the same idea of being a merchant that I had at your age. It was simply to buy and sell goods. Thati seems easy enough, but the merchant' who hasn't the "knack for the business1 is doomed to certain failure. Not one out of fifty clerks ever become merchants. Probably not more than three or four out of fifty are fitted to do business for themselves. A boy's idea of being a doctor is to visit the sick, cure them if possible, and collect $50, and the one who answers that he is going to make a lawyer of himself thinks of nothing but big fees

and verdicts m favor of his clients. But, as I told yon at the out et, if you have arrived at the age of 15 or 16! it is time you looked matters square in, the face and had some idea of your fu-; ture. If you were to answer at once you would say that you would take a' profession in preference toa trade. A profession means several years of hardj study, quite a large cash outlay and' then trials and rebnfii to get a start im business. It is one thing to graduate4 as a lawyer or a doctor, and quite another to pick up clients and patients. If you have fully decided on a profes-t sionsbe careful of your first move. If you have a large head your grandmother has doubtless many times exclaimed: "What a great lawyer this boy would make." Don't try to make one on the size of your head. Veve, got any. number of that class in tha1 country now, and they cant pay their grocers' bills. If you can pull a sliver; out of your finger without winking itf may be a sign that you would make a great surgeon. It may also be asign that you are horn to be a butcher. How will you know what to pursue?; Yonr own feelings ara the safest guide I If left to your parent and to circnm! stances yu may le forced into a tradj of profession which you can never make a success. When you. come to realize that you must make your own way in life your particular forte will be apt to reveal itself. One of the best lawyers ia Detroit was intended for the ministry; another served three years as a journalist, but all the time feeling that he' was not in his element ; another was forced by his father to learn the trade of harness maker. I

know a machinist who at first studied

medicine; of a watchmaker who tried'

to become a lawyer; of a carpenter who

threw away three years of his life try

ing to become a dentist.

After you have selected your profes-

sion or traae. wnac men? crtnve to

master it in all its details and to excel.; If you become a carpenter don't be sat

isfied when you can saw and plane audi matoh. Don't be satisfied with $2 per: day. Make yourself worth $3. Master

details and push yourself from carpen

ter to builder. Don't imagine that - a

man in search of a lawyer walks down

the street and drops in at the first sign

hanging out. It is the lawyer who haa

climbed above his fellows that he seeks

out. II our friends are lll.we want the best dootor. We want the man who has made himself the best by study and

energy. The blacksmith who is content

to mend old wagons will never iron a new one. The machinist who stands at the lathe to do about so much work in ten hours need not expect to be better off. it is the men who put their heart into what they do who succeed. The business of preparing sumach for market is mainly confined to Rich mond and some other cities of Virginia. The collectors take their small lots to the mills where they are. bought. After the sumach is properly manufactured it is sent for sale to New York and other cities, where it cornea in competition with the imported or Sicilian sumach, which is the leaves of Rhtisc oriaria, a species cultivated in Southern Europe. However abundantly sumach may grow in a locality, unless the owner of some grist-mill will introduce machinery to grind and bolt the leaves, or some capitalist will establish a mill for the purpose, the gathering of the sumach crop cannot be made profitable. A co-respondent wants to know why some women are called Amazons. "Per haps it is because they are uncommonly wide at tha mouth,3' suggests a para 'graphe.r.