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VOL. XIV.
PLYMOUTH, N. 0M FRIDAY, JULY 31, 1903.
NO. 19.
A
DON'T DREAM, BUT DO.
By Richard
T1 an easy thing, i you want to know
How sweet the summer is. just to go
Down in the fields, or deep in the wood,
Or fain toward the swash of the sea.
Tor they all will teach you how heavenly
good
Such wholesome places be.
If you seek the soul's warm summer, too,
Don't dream, but do!
Dot 'fc ret at home with your brain-born
took
And balance questions and pry and look
'.AWvV.nee at tin, or- wonder how
That square:; with some ancient doubt;
3juC f,et in touch with ihe throbbing now,
And let your heart s;o out
To your Wow-men who are spent and blue.
Don't dream, but do!
THE ORGANIST OF PONIKLA
'HE CULMINATION OF A.
Translated From the Polish of
XOi HE snow was hard and not
very. deep. Klen, with his
O o long legs, was walking
is briskly on the road from
;CTC' Zagrab to Fonikla. He
Avas scantily clothed with his, short
'coat, his cloak still shorter, and his
summer trousers not quite reaching
his ankles. And then his shoes were
so much worn out. He pressed his flute
amorously against his heart. He had
a few small glasses of rum in his stom
ach and a great deal of contentment In
his head. For that very morning he
had signed an engagement as organist
-with the curate of Fonikla.
Until that day -he--had-been roaming
like a Tzigane, from -inn to inn, from
one fair-to another, from, wedding. to
wedding, wretchedly, getting his. daijy
bread by playing the flute or thesorgan,.
And, let it be said, by the bye, lift
'played the organ better than any onek
else in the country. Now, at last, he
could settle down and live decently.
A house Jiud a garden, 150 roubles a
year, without reckoning the extras, and
above all the consideration attached to
a position in a church, to a profession
.devoted to the glory of God! He had
never wished as much In his most am
bitious dreams. All those who looked
at him as a kind of tramp should be
compelled now to treat him as a gen-'
tieman.
For a long time Klen had coveted the
position without any nope or getting u
wiii! old Mielnitzkl stifl persisted in
living. The flugers of the latter wjere
n:cl!y paralyzed, but the curate would
never have consented to replace him,
in consideration of their twenty years'
. i'ri.-mdship. At hist Mielnitzkl died
through an accident and Klen hast
ened to apply for the situation. The
fjurato. we!! acquainted with his talent,
engaged him immediately. Klen was
really a remarkable artist. He never
had studied music, but he played mar
vellously well not only the flute and the
organ, but 'also several other instru
ments. Ir wan not a case of heredity
nor of education. His father, a soldier
wring most of his life, had turned a
plain ropetuakor in his old age, and the
good man practiced no other wind in
strument than his smoking pipe, which,
it is true, seldom left the corner of his
mouth.
Yet Klen, from his childhood, had
rhown a decided talent. Mielnitzkl had
given him some organ lessons. But
1he urchin one day suddenly departed
with a baud of strolling players. He
wandered for' several 'years. Then the
troop dispersed by degrees, one dying,
another disappearing without leaving
any trace. Klen returned to his native
village of Zagrab. He was as thin as a
church mouse. p .
So far he had just shifted by playing
for a trifle, but often for the love of
tIod. People wondered at his Irregular
and precarious life, but they were
" unanimous when praising his talent.
From Zagrab to Ponikla all declared
readily: "When Klen begins to play
the Lord is pleased and men are in rap
tures." ;
' That did not prevent them from add
ing with mu civ concern: "He must be
possessed by a peculiar and devilish
spirit." The remark was judicious,
for at times he had the look of a sor
cerer, particularly when during these
last year, on some holidays, he re
placed old Mielnitzkl at the organ of
Ponikla. Then he was unconscious of
all 1h it was not his adored instrument,
it happened ihat in the middle of mass,
when the congregation was the most
deeply engaged in prayers, and when
the priest, enwrapped in the fumes of
incense, gave his benediction, Klen's
organ seemed to spread over the whole
an impalpable gauze, and to raise slow
jtowajd, heaven the priest- the een-
Burton.
Work in the world for the folk thereof;
With every deed that is done in love
Some crisscross matter is smoothed tor age;
The spirit sees straight and clear;
And heaven draws close that was far away,
As you whistle off each fear.
Work, for the days are fleet and few.
Don't droam, but do!
You may worry over God's grinding laws,
You may probe and probe for the great
first cause;
But an hour of life with an honest thrill
Of self-forgetting joy
Will ease your mind of its moody ill
And make you blithe as a boy.
The plan is simple; then see it through:
Don t dream, but do!
WANDERER'S AMBITION.
Henryk Sienkiewicz, by M. Tyrand.
ser, the vapors of perfume, the congre
gation, and even the tinkling of the
bells.
Klen positively did not realize that
he was the one who performed these
marvels. He completely imagined that
the organ played unaided, that the
sounds sprang by themselves out of
the leaden pipes, to scatter first like
rain, then like dew, in order to fill up
the church and make vibrate together
the altars and the hearts. Sometimes
he was terrified at the thunderbolts
starting from the magic instrument,
and the next moment he enjoyed list
ening to a melody falling like the pearls
of a rosary. When he came down from
hfs seat after mass he looked haggard.
and tottered as if inebriated, or rather
as one suddenly awakened?.' The cur
ate, putting some' money in his hand,
.complimented him. The people bowed
respectfully to the vagrant in whom,
at that moment, they felt an eminent
superiority.
Klen did not loiter before the church
in order to eujoy praises. It was to
contemplate in passing what was the
most dear to him m the world, after
music, of course.- We mean. Olka, the
daughter of a working man of Zagrab
He admired her eyes, the color of the
sky; her hair, the color of gold, and he
felt at his heart a sharp pain like the
piercing of a knife.
This restored him to his full reason,
and he repeated to himself a thousand
times that never would Olka's father
give his daughter to a vagrant, and
that he had better think no more of
the young girl. This was easily said,
but the knife had penetrated so deeply
that the strongest pincers could not
have withdrawn it.
Olka, on her side, at first had loved
Klen's music, then she had loved the
musician. That penniless fellow, queer
with wild-looking eyes, dark complex
ion, with clothes always too narrow
and too short, with long and thin legs
like those of a stork, had at last be
come dear to her. The father, though
he himself also had often empty pock
ets, did not wish to hear anything of
Klen.
"My daughter will have no trouble to
find better," he declared. "Does not
every one admire her beauty? She will
never be reduced to accept a man ou
whose arm she would be ashamed to
present herself."
It was, then, with ill grace that he
opened his door to the musician which
did not often happen. "But the death of
Mielnitzkl changed everything. As
sooif as Klen had signed his contract
with the curate he hastened to an
nounce it to Olka. The father for the
first time invited him to sit down and
offered him one after another several
littfe glasses of rum. And when the
young girl came in he gravely told her
that henceforth Klen was going to be a
gentleman much better, the first in
Ponikla, after the dean.
Then, also for the first time, the mu
sician had been authorized to remain
near Olka from noon until evening,
and night, was coming as he returned
to Ponikla with the snow crackling un
der his feet. The frost was sharpi but
Klen had never been so happy, and he
felt very warm at heart in recalling the
smallest incidents of that decisive day.
Along the deserted road, to the fields
buried under the snow, he carried his
joy like a light across the increasing
darkness.
"What do I care for prosperity?"
Olka had told him sweetly. "With you
I would go beyond the seas, to the end
of the world! But. for father it is bet
ter that your position be settled."
Then he had kissed her hands relig
iously, murmuring:
"Olka, dear Olka. may God return to
fovi all the happiness you give me in
speaking so!" -...
But now, thinking It over, he 'was
mortified at Jiis own foolishness. He
ought to have said many things differently-;
omitted this, added that, .and
particularly answered better to so im
portant a declaration; think of a young
girl telling a young man that, if it was
not for her father she would follow
him all over the world! It seemed to
him that both were walking together
on the white road. This did not pre
vent him from hurrying his steps, as
the snow was cracking in a manner
more and more alarming.
"Ho! my Olka! unique treasure, you
are going to be a lady, my lady!"
His heart swelled with gratitude.
Ha!, had she really been near him how
he would have pressed her in his arms
with all his might! This is, yes, this is
what he ought to have done one hour
before at Zagrab! But it is always so.
At - certain moments one feels dizzy,
and the tongue goes astray precisely
when it ought to say so many, many
things. Decidedly it is much more
easy to play on the organ than to ex
press in words what one has in one's
heart.
In the cold sky the stars began to
twinkle with a sparkling light. Klen
felt that his ears burned. To save time
he took a small, familiar path across
fields. His shadow lengthened funnily
on the white earth.
"If I played on my flute it might re
vive my fingers." A few sharp notes
flew away in the night. They seemed
like birds frightened by the surround
ing silence, the intense frost, and the
shroud which-'covered the land. And
Klen modulated the gayest tunes of
his repertoire, those Olka had asked
him to play in accompaniment to her
small voice.
An old song, called "The Green
ritcher," had' particularly pleased the
father and the daughter. It was a dia
logue between a lord and a maiden,
which began thus:
"Ha! my green mtcher,
The lord has broken it!"
And the lord answered:
"Do not cry, child;
I shall pay for thy broken pitcher!"
Olka, of course, figured the maiden
with the green pitcher, and Klen the
lord. This prodigiously amused the
old workingman.
And now, along the little path across
fields, Klen, with an ecstatic smile,
played "The Green Pitcher," or rather
attempted to play it.
His fingers did not revive; he had tc
give up as this journeying took his
breath more and more at every mo
ment. He had not thought that the snow
was less hard and deeper in the fields
than on the roads, and that he could
not always teice the path, he allowed
himself to be directed by chance. Then
he tumbled at every step, burying his
long legs in some unseen ditch. -
The stars sparkled still colder, and
then the wind rose again. Klen was 411
perspiration, but he shivered. He tried
once more to play on his flute. But he
could not feel his fingers and could
hardly move his lips. An impression
of overwhelming solitude dawned upon
him. He thought of the well-heated
house which was ready for him at
Fonikla: then of the one where he
had spent the afternoon.
"Olka must have retired at this hour,
and, thank God, under her roof it is
warm."
The certainty that Olka was warm
made him happy, but caused him to
suffer from the cold still more.
He had passed the fields and was
stepping through prairies bristling with
bushes. He was so tired that he
thought only of sitting down, no mat
ter where.
"I am going to rest a moment against
the wind, near these bushes. My! iS'o!
I should freeze on the spot."
He walked again not much. Ex
hausted, he let himself fall down.
"If I sleep, I am lost"
He stretched his eyelids',' shook his
aims, moved his fingers, unfastened
his lip's and played on his flute the first
notes iof "The Green Pitcher." A few-
thin sounds rose in the icy night, and
died away, slow and melancholy. 4
Klen let fall his flute, but continued
to struggle against the unconquerable
slumber, He felt astonished to be
alone in that desert of snow.
"Olka! Where are you?" he-mur
mured.
He moved once more his fingers,
opened once more his eyes, and. whis
pered: .
"Olka!"
Dawn lightened: near a bush of
broom, a human form with long and
thin legs. A flute lay by its side. The
bluish face wore still an expression of
wonder and attention. Klen died in
listening to the old song:
"Ha! my green pitcher,
The lord has broken it!"
The Talc of the Tall.
A writer in tracing the ancestry of
the dog to wolf and jackal notices typi
cal differences in the cast of theif eyes,
their body colors and markings, the
habit of turning around three times be
fore lying down, and other interesting
peculiarities, but he does not mention
the most striking and infallible way of
distinguishing them, namely, by the
fashion in which they carry their tails.
Wolves and coyotes have a sneaking
way of carrying their tails low, almost
hanging on the ground, while dogs
carry their tails up, and the further re
moved they are from the general type,
says Charles Hallock, the higher they
carry them. Shepherds and collies,
which retain many of their racial char
acteristics, carry their tails lowest of
all; setters and pointers, a few degrees
higher, stiffening out straight their
tails to the spinal line; St. Bernards
and Newfoundlands effect a curve over
the back, while pugs actually come to a
full twist. An old plainsman could tell
a wolf or coyote as far as he could see
him, and in buffalo days this was a
most useful indication of buffalo herds
being not far away. These predatory
creatures always followed a moving
herd. Philadelphia Record.
Reminder of mitlsh Vandalism. ,
A vivid reminder of the burning, of
the Capitol by the British in 1814 came
to hand recently in the' repairs whicn
are being made in the document room
of the House of Representatives. This
room is a three-cornered space, in the
northwest corner of the old hall of the
House, or Statuary Hall, as it is called
now. In making the repairs the old
window sashes were taken out. Un
derneath was a charred window case,
and when that, too," had been removed
there was a quantity -of lead found;
the old window, weight had been melt
ed in the fire and run down into the
crevice of the stone wall. This was
dug out by Joel Grayson, and is being
preserved' by him as a memento. The
window sashes were covered with a
coat of dirty Avhite paint, but their
weight attracted the attention of the
workmen, and the paint was scraped
off sufficiently to show that they were
solid mahogany, showing that nothing
was thought too good to use in the orig
inal construction of the Capitol. Wash-
ington Star.
The Britih Heat Us.
It isn't often that a British boat crew
beats an American; the balance of vic
tory hangs heavily -on our side, but re
cently in Sydney the Yankee jackies
got an awful walloping. Some months
asro the supply ship Glacier made her
regular call, at Sydney for a cargo of
meat for the Philippines. . In the har
bor lay the British flagship Royal Ar
thur, and the crew of the Glacier chal
lenged her crew to a boat race. While
the conditions were being talked over
it came time for the American ship to
leave so the race was postponed. Ac
cording to Eritish reports when the
Glacier got back to Manila she got the
picked oarsmen in the American fleet
to take "back to Sydney with her. The
day of the race was made almost a hol
iday in Sydney. Practically all the
town was on the water or on land
where they could see the sport, and
when the Britishers beat the Yankees
by ten lengths in two miles bedlam
reigned. New York Commercial Ad
vertiser.
Insuring,- Against Widowhood.
A French publishing house has de
vised an ingenious method for insuring
women against widowhood. For every
thousand subscriptions they obtain to
their three publications, they propose
to appropriate gratuitously the sum of
15,000 francs, or in other words, fifteen
francs nearly S3 to each subscriber,
to form a fund. This fund Is to be, di
vided annually among the subscribers
who have become widows, according to
age. New York Press.
Giant Locomotives.
Two locomotives, the largest in Eu
rope, have just been turned out at
Basile, Switzerland. The boilers are
twice the ordinary size, give a force
of 1000 horse power and a speed of
over seventy-five miles an hour.
15ad Investments.
Get-rich-quick marriages usually have
the same wind-up as the other Invest
ments of the same U'ud. New York
rr
PRECIOUS STONES GET SICK.
When the Turquoise Fades the Jewel
Doctor is Called in.
Jewels, like lovely woman who
wears them, may be "indisposed."
According to A. J. Linde, a New York
expert in precious stones, th3 sickness
of gems is no uncommon thing.
"Diamonds," said he, "are free from
maladies because of their great hard
ness, but otlu-r gems, such as rubies,
sapphires and pearls, all have their
ailments. Now, here Is a sick tur
quoise which I am trying to cure. You
can see it is set in a ring with. two
other stones. Just note the dull,
faded color compared with the healthy
turquoise, and you will see the differ
ence at once.
"The effect is due to atmosphere
and surrounding conditions. As man
is affected by the weather, so was
this stone. You see the particles of
which, it is composed were softened
by the elements; a change in its
color took place, and the stone is what
we call 'sick.' Whether it can be
cured remains to be seen.
"We usually put such a stone
through an acid course to' harden it.
Sometimes it regains its original
color and health, but if it has long
been affected a cure may be impos
sible. - "
-."Pearls usually suffer more than
other precious, stones. .Through the
ravages of time and other causes they
rdose the beautiful reflections which,
constitute all their value. Often, too
they become more or less yellowish.
.In both cases .we jewelers usually call
them 'dead' pearls. In this "condition,
they-; are not worth much, and a hun
' flfed and one means haye been resort
ed to in order to restore their lustre.
In some cases the operation -.succe-eds;
in others it. is a- faUyre.
"There are many 'pearl doctors,"
and all have some' secret? recipe which:
they claim will restore'$hie: -lustre;
but they are only quacks. Their rem
edies are very mysterious, and I have
seen one which contains a3 many as
eighty-three ingredients. One recipe
I have heard of is dew taken .from
the leaves of certain plants: My ex
perience has proved that, 'after all, an
acid liquor is the best. "
"When you take into consideration
the constitution of the pearl, and how
readily it is dissolved by an acid
liquor, you can quickly see that a
stone submerged in this liquor will
be attacked, and as a--result its exte
rior layer will disappear. If the pearl
is ony a trifle yellow and dim, the
removal of the topmost layer will
leave exposed the normal layers and
the stone will recover its lustre. If,
however, all the layers are dimmed
and opaque to the centre, nothing can
restore the pearl's health. New York
Mail and Express.
PREACHER BLAMES HIS WIFE.
Quick Wit That Got Him Out of Tight
Place.
Ellen M. Stone, the famous mis
sionary ransomed from the hands of
Bulgarian bandits, has a number of
stories which she does not relate on
the lecture platform.
Miss Stone admires men. who can
keep their troubles to themselves; es
pecially those who resort to happy sub
terfuge when pressed for reason con
cerning their discontent.
"My friend,". Rev. Waller,"' said, the
missionary, by . way of . illustration,
had an ideal home and a, model wife.
He loved her, and she; was-, devoted to
him. When he was absent from home,
she adored onions. No matter how
arduous were the duties 'of a day, the
preacher always came home cheerful.
One day he returned home unexpect
edly. There was anxiety pictured on
his face. He had learned of a dis
satisfied element in his congregation.
The look of pain did not disappear as
he crossed his own threshold.
"Mrs. Waller observed her hus
band's dejection, and placing her arms
about him, asked, 'why are you not
happy and cheerful to-night?' "
The preacher hesitated; he did not
wish his wife to learn the truth. As
he kissed her a thought suddenly
struck him and he said, cheerfully:
"My dear, how can I smilo when,
onions move me to tears.' "
The Age cf Pompeii. ,
Prof. Dall Osso, inspector of the
Museum of Naples, has just published
an article In which he affirms that re
searches and excavations prove that
there existed a Pompeii nine centufies
before our era.