THE SURGEON'S HAND.
"HE MAKETH THE BLIND TO SEE."
Mary Murdoch Mscn, in The Century.
3eneath his wrist there stirs a sun-god's thought,
A strong magnetic current swiftly flows
Through palm und finger-tip, and power bestows
On tiny blade of steel with promise fraught.
Up toward the eye the charged blade is brought
Maible, moonlit, the arched cornea shows.
The iris, lying ladylike in repose,
And the deep pupil, where the soul is caught.
"Let there be light." he says "Let there be light,"
And, solemn as the sign of cross, the hand
Performs the miracle. At that command
The pulsing thought leaps toward the blind man's night.
Symbolic, like a dove's flight to its nest,
The haloed hand drops down and is at rest.
H
John Inflow's
John Thurlow sat vaione In his
office, lotg after his one solitary clerk
had takea his departure. There were
no inducements for him to do other
wise, for the word home had no at
traction for him. A modest fiat in
Harlem, and a cross-grained old
housekeeper, were all that word rep
resented to John Thurlow.
Eight years before, when he was
but one and twenty, he had taken
over control of a small but prosperous
business owned by his father, in order
that th latter might retire to a quiet
country home in Morristown, N. J.
On that same day, too, he had mar
. ried a pretty girl of nineteen, whom
he had known from childhood. He
had loved her then with a depth of
devotion which had overmastered
every other thought. But he was
quiet and undemonstrative by na
turewhile she was full of life and
sparkling vivacity. All his wants and
aspirations were realized in the quiet
sanctity of their newly-made home.
But she though loving him no less
dearly was not so easily satisfied.
For life under any circumstances. was
to her dull and monotonous without
the gayeties und pleasures to which
she had grown accustomed.
Of course, she had her way. Invi
tations to balls, theatre parties, and
every other form of amusement were
never declined, and pretty Mrs. Thur
low seldom spent two consecutive
evenings by her own fireside. John
accompanied her, and watched her as
she flitted here and there among the
guests, and his heart yearned for the
quieter pleasures of home and the
presence of the woman he loved. He
saw how she was admired, even by
the men about her, and gradually
very gradually at first there grew
up within him the first bitter seeds
of jealousy and distrust.
At first he expostulated with her
In a quiet way, but she only pouted
and sulked like a willful child, until
in very despair he yielded the point,
and she once moro had her way. But
hi3 jealousy was not so easily
silenced. Day by day it grew, and
distorted every word or look which
she bestowed upon others. At last he
could endure it no longer, and, in a
moment of anger, gave utterance to
the iruel thoughts and suspicions
which had filled his mind so long and
made his life so miserable.
"Lock you! " he said, stepping close
tirv tr hnr n n rl ro(n rrl itp h pr sH'Pn A il V
"You have made my life a misery.
I thought you better than all other
women I find you worse! Go your
own way, then, and I will go mine!"
And, turning upor his heel, he went
to his room, hastily packed his few
personal belongings, and left the
house for ever.
Through all the seven long years
which had intervened sine.- that un
happy day he had never once heard of
his deserted wife. He had not even
arranged for her support, and she,
smarting under his shameful accusa
tions, had been too proud to compel
him to fulfill this legal obligation.
As he sat at his desk in that quiet
counting-house there seemed to be a
voice within him which rose up in
protest against his injustice and cru
elty. He got up and paced to and fro in
the narrow office. It was quite dark
by this time, so he took a match from
his pocket and lit the gas. Then he
resumed his walk. Everything had
gone wrong with him "2 late. He had
' speculated pretty freely, and loss had
succeeded loss, until he felt almost
afraid to examine his bank-book and
see how the balance stood at his
bankers.
He had not felt himself for some
few days past. Early the previous
week, while riding from the office on
his bicycle, he had collided with a
heavy conveyance, and severely in
jured his head. The fall had dazed
him fox a few moments, but he had
sufficiently recovered to, proceed to
his home, where his injuries were
dressed. For a few days he remained
indoors, as his face was somewhat
disfigured by the fall. But business
cares had weighed upon him, and he
was soon back at the office once
more.
But for an occasional numbness in
the head he now felt little the worse
for his mishap. And yet he felt ner
vous and uneasy. A sense of impend
ing calamity seemed to be brooding
over his head. His mind persistently
returned to the girl whom he had
once loved so dearly, and of whom he
had been so unreasonably jealous.
With a frown he went back to his
desk, and, opening his business diary
at the almost blank page which was
to contain the entries for the follow
ing Monday, he read once more the
memorandum which, had been placed
against the date:
"Rankin, Son & Co.: Bill, $1154,
due to-day."
lie sighed heavily a3 he looked at
the words.
"I must face the music," be said,
bitterly. "If Rankins" refuse to g?ant
Affliction,
me a renewal well, I suppose it's all
up with Thurlow & Co."
He took a sheet of paper and pre
pared to write a letter.
Dipping his pen into the ink he
was about to begin when he noticed
that the light did not seem to be
fully turned on.
He rose and went over to it, but to
his surprise he found he had been
mistaken. Annoyed at" being thus
disturbed to no purpose, he returned
to his seat, and again took up his pen.
"What poor gas," he muttered.
Then he began his letter. Very de
liberately he wrote the words:
"Gentlemen I am compelled, very
much to my regret, to inform you of
my inability to meet your bill, which
falls due on Monday next. If you
would be so good as to grant me an
extension of time, I feel sure the
present crisis of the firm could be
averted. In this hope, therefore, I
beg to propose that you should grant
me a rene "
The word was never completed. A
sud'den haze crept up before John
Thurlow's eyes grey at first, but
rapidly darkening, untilit had be
come as black as night. The letter,
the scanty furniture of the room and
even the light itself, were all blotted
out from his view, and a terrible
darkness covered everything around
him. He got up hastily and groped
his way to the gas jet. Then once
more drawing forth his matchbox
he endeavored to light the gas, which
he imagined must have gone cut. But
to his astonishment and terror he
could not distinguish the faintest
glimmer of a light.
He listened, and heard the hiss of
the burning gas, and going close up
to it he felt the heat, upon his face.
His breath came quick as a horrible
suspicion took possession of him. Jn
an, agony of suspense he thrust his
fingers into the flame, which he al
most knew to be there though unseen
it, was, and only withdrew his hand
when the fingers had been blistered
by the heat.
In a frenzy of horror he groped his
way to the outer door of the office,
and took one short step into the
street. The cool night air, fanned his
cheek, but all around liim was as dark
as the grave. Not a ray of light,
not even the vaguest outline of an
object greeted his straining eyeballs.
And then, with a cry of utter despair,
he realized the terrible truth. He
was blind!
Feebly he groped his way back to
his office chair, and tried to think
calmly upon his horrible situation.
But he could not. Blindness! that
most awful of all calamities had
fallen upon him him, a young man
of but nine-and-twenty and his life
henceforth must be spent in lone
liness and darkness beyond descrip
tion. The thought was maddening.
His brain reeled and his senses swam.
With a loud cry for help he fell upon
the office floor, and kind unconscious
ness came to his relief.
When he recovered a confused mur
mur of voices sounded in his ears.
He was in the hospital.
The nurse for the day had come on
duty, and once as she passed him
she stopped, and, in a sweet, quiet
voice, asked him his name. When he
told her, she stood for some time
silent before him.
"How did you sleep?" she asked at
last, in a voice which John thought
unusually sympathetic.
"Very well," he replied, gratefully.
"That is right!" she said, kindly.
"You must try to get as much rest as
possible, and, above all, you must not
worry about your affliction. You
know, it may be we hope it is only
temporary, and you are in good hands
here. Dr. Pope will see you to-day,
and then we shall know more about
your case, and be able, I hope, to do
our little part in the great work of
restoring to you your lost sight."
"Thank you," he said, simply.
"Your words inspire courage. I trust
that, under the skillful treatment of
Dr. Pope and yourselves, I may soon
realize the hope which you ' have so
kindly expressed."
That afternoon Nurse Gertrude was !
off duty. But instead of going out
for her usual walk she went straight
to her bedroom. Lockine the door
hastily behind her she fell on her
knees by the bedside, and, covering
her face with her hands, burst Into
OME, I will make the continent indissoluble;
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever yet
shone upon;
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.
I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers
of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and
all over the prairies;
I will make inseparable citie3, with their arffis about each
other's necks;
By the love of comrades.
By the manly love of comrades.
Walt Whitman.
tears. Sob after sob shook her franw 1
as she knelt there alone.
"Oh, Jack," she moaned. "My
Jack! .How can I comfort you! How
can I tell you the terrible truth! My
poor, blind, helpless husband!"
She controlled herself with a great
effort and tried to think calmly what
she should do. Dr. Pope had told her
at the end of his examination that he
could hold out no reasonable hope
whatever that John Thurlow's sight
would ever be restored. How anx
iously she had waited that verdict,
and how mercilessly those cruel
words had pierced her heart as she
listened, none but herself knew.
From the first moment when she
had encountered the pale, drawn face
and sightless eyes of John Thurlow
in the hospital ward she had recog
nized him as the husband who had
deserted her seven long years before.
But there was no feeling in her heart
but one ot intense sympathy and love
for him, and a passionate yearning to
be able to comfort him and to receive
anew all those old and treasured
tokens of his love which had once
been so dear to her.
The next day a second examination
took place. When it was ended Dr.
Pope and Nurse Gertrude passed out
of the dark room together.
"It is a bad case," he said, when
they were alone. "I can only confirm
my opinion of yesterday."
"Do you think he ought to know?"
she asked, in a voice which she tried
to control.
Dr. Pope glanced at her curiously.
"Why?" he asked, half smiling.
"Would you care to be the bearer of
such terrible tidings?"
"I I think," she said, bravely, "I
would rather tell him than any one
else. He i3 my my husband!"
And then in a broken voice she
recounted her early life to the doctor,
whose kindly nature and warm, re
sponsive heart had won so many sim
ilar confidences from those about
him.
"Well," he continued, after a
pause, "I think you had better tell
your husband what I have said. I
will, however, perform an operation
iupon one eye. But you must not
place the smallest hope in the result.
It is merely a forlorn hope and, in
deed, barely that which I am only
induced to undertake by the possi
bility that his present unbroken dark
ness may be thereby relieved by the
reappearance of light, though not, I
am afraid, of sight."
"Very well, doctor," she said, "and
thank you." And she went back to
her patients.
That evening she led Jqhn Thurlow
into a small, unoccupied ward, and,
placing a chair for him, sat down be
side him.
"I have something to tell you," she
began, striving to speak calmly.
"Have you?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yes. But first, will you not tell
me a little about yourself? I know
something of your early life. Will
you not tell me all about it? Per
haps I may be able to help you." And
she laid her hand lightly upon his,
as if to still further appeal for his
confidence.
A shadow crossed John Thurlow's
face, in which both pain and self-reproach
were plainly visible. Almost
Instinctively he knew that what Nurse
Gertrude had said referred to his
long-deserted wife.
"Have you met her?" he asked
quickly.
"I know her," she replied, in a low
voice, which even he could scarcely
hear.
"Ah!" he groaned. "I was mad
then! And now now she would not
look at me! Perhaps for her sake it
Is better so. For had we never parted
she would now have had me blind
and helpless and ruined as I am to
care for and work for a life-long
burden upon her frail resources."
"Are you sure?" she asked, looking
earnestly and lovingly into his poor
sightless eyes.
"It seems but reasonable," he re
plied, sadly.
"But suppose she still loves you!
Could you not love her in return, and
take her to your heart as you did
when she was a foolish, wayward girl,
and try to forget the bitter memories
of. the past?"
"Would to God that were possi
ble!" he said, with a sigh of regret.
"But could I as I am, blind, help
less, beggared ask forgiveness of the
woman whom in the days of my pros
perity I cruelly and shamefully deserted?"
For answer she put both her arms i
about his neck, and, kissing him ten
derly, burst into a flood of happy
tears.
"Winnie!" he said, with a cry of
astonishment, "is it ycu? I cannot
see you! Is it really you?"
"Oh, Jack! " she whispered, broken
ly. "My own dear Jack! God has
given you back to me once more, and
! though your dear eyes may, perhaps,
never see my face again, you will al-
ways have me to care for you and see
for vou. and tell you how dearly I
love you! "
And that was how she cpnveyed to
him the truth which the doctor had
commissioned her to tell.
John Thurlow could not fail to un
derstand all that her words meant lq
regard to his lost sight. But the
sweet, kindly way in which they were
uttered, and, above ail the earnest
heartfelt feeling of thankfulness
which rose up simultaneously within
him that his wife was found at last,
that she loved him still nay, with
even a greater love than of yore
softened the bitterness of the blow,
and helped him to bear his great af
fliction with courage and fortitude.
"Why do they call you Gertrude?"
he asked.
"It is my second name, you know,"
she said, smiling. "There was already
one Nurse Winnifred fn the hospital
where I began my training, so I took
my second name, and have retained
it ever since."
And then they sat hand in hand,
telling each other all that had be
fallen them in those seven long years
of separation.
Three weeks later the bandages
which had covered John1 Thurlow's
eyes since his operation were re
moved, and the first soft rays of light
which filtered through the veiled win
dows of the ward revealed to him the
face he loved best on earth not a3
he knew it seven years before, but
far more beautiful, because it had
passed through the fire of tribulation,
and now possessed a new grace and
refinement which had not been there
before.
Gradually John Thurlow's sight
grew stronger and stronger, and,
though it never became quite so per
fect as of old, it enabled him to pur
sue any avocation he pleased. And
from that day forward John Thur
low's business steadily but surely
prospered. When he was at last dis
charged from the hospital it was to
learn that Rankins', hearing of the
calamity which had befallen him, and
being wel convinced of his undoubted
business qualities and high principles
of honesty, had agreed to renew; the
bill which had so terribly harassed
him that fatal night.
During his enforced absence, also,
his energetic clerk had been doing
good work. Several old speculations
had turned out successfully and John
Thurlow found, to his intense relief,
that the crisis which had so recently
threatened him had been averted.
Steadily and surely step by step the
little business thrived and grew, and
prosperity began to smile on him
anew.
The fiat at Harlem was deserted,
and, in a neat little villa at Larch
mont John Thurlow and his hand
some wife still live to bless the day
when, out of the shadow of a great
darkness, the light of love had
dawned for them indeed. New York
Weekly.
Five hundred ether colors besides
alizarin and indigo are to-day made
from coal-tar. Formerly allowed to
run to waste, this offensive liquid
now furnishes the world With its most
astonishing illustration of the power
of chemistry in taking waste products
and in turning them back again into
the channels of profitable use.
From coal-tar Professor Remsen
derived saccharin. Already other
chemists had made coal-tar the basis
for the manufacture of innumerable
dyes and perfumes and flavors and
drugs. It was reserved for Dr. Rem
sen to find that coal-tar contained
within it the possibility of a sweeten
ing material of six hundred times the
power of ordinary cane-sugar. An
almost infinitesimal amount of sac
charin will sweeten a cup of coffee.
The extremes to which chemists
will go in the use of waste material
is Illustrated by a case furnished by
Mr. Peter T. Austen, formerly pro
fessor of chemistry at Rutgers Col
lege. At Mulhausen, in Germany,
there was a yarn-mill. This mill pro
duced, as a waste-product, an enorm
ous quantity of soapsuds. The sight
of soapsuds going absolutely and ir
revocably to waste was so painful to
a neighboring chemist that finally he
devised a method by which he precip
itated those suds with lime, and
pressed them into briquettes. Fur
thermore, from the briquettes he
manufactured a gas which had three
times, the illuminating power of ord
inary gas, and which he used to light
the mill.
A French inventor, M. Paul Jegou,
has devised an electrolytic detector
which operates without the use of a
battery to affect telephone receivers.
The detector consists of a glass cup
containing at the bottom a small
amount of mercury with some pure
tin in solution. This serves as one
electrode, while the other electrode
is of the usual type, namely a fine
Wollaston wire. Diluted sulphuric
acid is used for the electrolyte. The
detector is found to act like a small
battery, and yet possesses all of the
sensitiveness of the electroyltic de
tector. One of these detectors used
at Paris was found to receive signals
sent from the Ouessant post on the
coast. Scientific American.
Patient Explanation.
"Something wrong with my right
foot," said the man at the hotel
counter. "Could you direct me to a
good carpenter?"
"Excuse me," said the clerk, with a
sly glance of amusement at the lady
bookkeeper, "but of course you mean
a chiropodist."
"No. I'm going to be patient with
yon, young man, and tell you I want
a gocd carpenter. My right leg la
a wooden one." Washington Star.
Younger
Children...
THE BROWNIES AND THE WATER
FAMINE.
The town was much in need of rain,
That seemed to linger o'er the main,
And leave the country, sad to see,
With scarcely water for the tea.
(And this says naught of bird or beast,
Whose sufferings hardly were the least.)
The wells were deepened in the hope -Of
striking veins of greater scope.
And pumps were rattled out of use
For water they could not produce.
When Brownies met, as day withdrew,
The situation to review,
Said one: "The land we love so dear
Is passing through a test severe. -There
may be water in the sea
That suits the sailor to a T,
Providing he can hold his grip
Upon the yard, and keep his ship;
The wave no djubt this moment breaks
Along the shores of upper lakes,
And in the river known as wide,
Some water may to ocean glide.
But let me speak my feelings out;
There's not much treshness hereabout;
The grass no more is green and good;
The forest stands like kindling-wood;
A match ignited through mishap
Might change the features of the map;
And if a chance was ever nigh
For work, it looks us in the eye."
"These people think they know it all,"
Another said, "and yet they fall
To digging where, since Adam's day
A gill of water never lay.
"They churn the pump for hours, and yet
Bring nothing in return that's wet.
We know where babbling springs are found
Of which they ne'er got sight or sound;
We'll bring from there a good supply
before the stars have left the sky.
Though we for fields may nothing do.
Nor cause the trees to leaf anew,
We'll aid the people of the town
That are in heart so broken down.
Away to that clear spring we'll troop
To bring them water for their soup,
And raise their spirits with a sup
Of something from their morning cup."
Within five minutes by the clock
That overlooked the village block,
They took the highway in a string
That led them to that hidden spring.
Some had a cart or dray, and more
Pushed jolting wheelbarrows on before,
With vessels new, or odd and old,
That would the precious water hold.
They carried churns, the whirling kind,
And some for dasher-work designed,
But, as they hoped, in proper trim
To carry water to the brim.
They soon were on the homeward track,
And of supply there was no lack,
For, let the reader bear in mind,
That which the Brownies seek they find.
They rode upon the water cart
That took the liquid at the start
Where, bursting from the granite rent,
The treasure found a generous vent,
Though, guarded well by rocks and trees,
The place was not approached with ease,
And wheels ran high, and wheels ran' low,
And called for many a "turn and go!"
Said one: "We've heard of floods that
swept
The people seaward as they slept,
And buried homes in water quite
Until the town was out of sight;
But here's a midnight flood, 1 think,
That comes to save instead of sink,
And old and youn will bless the day
The Brownie band came round this way."
The fountain basin in the square,
So dry for weeks, received their care,
And soon the splashing water fell
Into each deep and empty well,
And pumps that oft were worked in vain
Now answered quickly, free as rain,
Till people drank a double share,
While pots were boiling everywhere.
The bubbling kettle sang a tune
That lifted every spirit soon,
And joy was spread throughout the town,
In every district, up and down,
For hoinea were all with plenty stored
Until the rain of autumn poured.
Palmer Cos, in St. Nicholas.
GAME OF BEAN BAG.
Two captains are chosen, who se
lect an eg.ual number of players for
their sides. The sides stand so that
they are in two lines facing each
other. Each captain stands on the
right-hand end of his line. By this
arrangement the captains are then
diagonally opposite. Each captain
throws a bean bag to the player oppo
site. These players throw the bags
across to the players second in line.
These second players throw the ball
back to the opposite side, but to the
players next to those who had the
bags last. This plan is continued
down both lines, so that every one
has a turn to throw and to catch each
bag. The bags return in the same
way. Playing with the two bags
makes the game very interesting, es
pecially since the bags cross in about
the middle of the line. When a player
misses a catch or throws to the wrong
person he must join the line at the
other side. After each bag has been
up and down the line twice the game
is ended. The side having the most
players wins the game. To keep
score, count the players on each side
at the close of the game. If one side
has six players and the other side
eight the score is six to eight. When
the players on one side are fewer
than those of the other, the end
player of the short side throws the
bag to each of the extra players on
the long side before it starts back
down the line. Washington Star.
HOME OF THE SHETLAND PONY.
Just off the coast of Scotland there
is a group of islands called the Shet
land Islands. On one of this group
of Shetlands the men are so large
they are almost giants, for they are
tall, strong and broad shouldered.
Their wives and children, too, are fine
looking and intelligent. Only twenty
five miles away from this island of
Fetlar is one called Muckle Roe.
There the men are small, ill-shapen,
homely, and, in fact, look almost like
queer little dwarfs. These people
are so very loyal to each ether that
they do not like to welcome any of
their neighboring islanders to live in
Muckle Roe. For thi3 reason these
queer people make very little pro
gress. When the people of Shetland
Islands reach the age of twenty they
feel rather sure of a long life, for over
half of the population live to be sev
enty years old and many of the people
lead vigorous out-of-door lives until
they are past eighty years of age.
The Shetland ponies are known the
world over. They are shaggy little
animals weighing only about ono
hundred pounds, but they are very,
hardy, sure footed and sensible.
Their coats are usually some shado
of brown, though some are of such
a rich black that they are considered
very beautiful. For thi3 reason the
black ponies are the most valuable.
The sheep of Shetland are small, hav
ing short tails and short horns. Some
are white, other gray white; still
others are brown or black. Because
the wool grown on the native sheep
of Shetland is finer than that grown
on any other sheep, Shetland wool3
are sold a great deal in their natural
colors for fancy work. The wool is
so fine that it can be spun into
threads finer than lace threads. It is
a Shetlander's boast that a stocking
made of the wool of one of these
native sheep may be drawn through
a lady's ring. The cows of these
Islands are small, and usually marked
with several colors. The native pigs
of Shetland are unlike the native
"porkers" we are used to seeing, for
they are quite slim, on account of
being fed on fish. Their meat, too,
has a different flavor, for the taste of
fish is even in the pork. Washing
ton Star.
THOMAS EDISON. '
This is a true story about a man
who is alive to-day. He has invented
a talking machine, has given us tho
electric lights and has invented hun
dreds of useful things which give
comfort to people all over the world.
He has even made an instrument to
measure the heat of the far-off stars.
Sixty-three years ago, when this
greatman was born, no one dreamed
that some day the -name of Thomas
Edison would be so famous. As the
little boy grew into childhood he
asked many questions which were dif
ficult to answer, for he wanted to
know the why and how of many
things. When young Edison was
twelve years old he began to earn
money, for he started in business as
a newsboy, selling fruits, peanuts and
papers on the train. His brightness
and pleasantness gained many cus
tomers. Witftthe money earned he bought
powders and liquids to use for ex
periments. All of these jars and bot
tles of things were kept in an old bag
gage car and labeled "poison," so
that no one would interfere with,
them. Soon Edison wanted to print
a paper of his own, so bought some
old type from a printing office. His
shop was in the baggage car where he
kept his chemicals. After being a
newsboy for four years an accident
happened which caused young Edison
to change his work. The baggage
car in which the boy kept his chem
icals and printing press caught fire
by the falling of a bottle of phos
phorus on the floor. So angry was the
conductor that after putting out the
fire he boxed Thomas Edison's ears
and threw his materials out of the
car. J.ater tiaison set up uis pout
ing press at his home.
As the boy grew older he studied
telegraphy from a Mr. McKensie, who
took great pains in teaching Edison,
for Edison had risked his life to save
.that of Mr. McKensie's child, who
was playing on the track of a moving;
engine. The great inventor as a
young man was not very successful in
keeping positions, for his employers
complained that he had too many,
plans of his own.
As the man grew older these plans
and many more were worked out until
Thomas Edison has given pleasure
and comfort to millions of people by;
the work of his hands and brain.
This untiring worker still spends
much of his time in trying to discover
better ways of doing things. Wash'
Ington Star.
The Little Red Devil.
You will often run across a jolly
looking individual who wears a but
ton on which is a figure which looks
like a little red devil. He belongs to
the Order of the Rejuvenated Sons of
Jove and must necessarily be an elec
trical man.
The order is national in its scope
and includes electrical salesmen, en
gineers, inventors, manufacturers and
others engaged in electrical callings.
Every once in a while the order hold3
a "rejuvenation;" they had one at
the last electrical show in Chicago.
It is told that they had a pair ot
"electrical shoes" there through
which the luckless initiate, before hi3
rejuvenation was esteemed complete,
received most startling shocks.
Popular Electricity.
One of Time's Changes.
Take our own New Haven, for in
stance. Here in New Haven fifty:
years ago, forty years ago, we as a
city were the centre of the carriage
manufacturing interest of the United
States. New Haven was pre-eminently
a city of carriage factories. Now
there is hardly one factory left de
voted to carriage manufacturing. All
these factories are now automobile
horseless carriage factories. Our
carriage manufacturing fled West
years ago and now it is the automo
bile business that reigns here instead
in our former carriage factories, and
this work is chiefly the manufacture
ing of the wood work of autos.
New Haven Courier-Journal.
The surface of the earth is said to
I he 19 5,971,9 3 4 square miles.
t