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proof of the ease of revival of an interest once dormant at the worst.

There are many reasons for the present revival of bicycling, apart from a mere reaction and the welldirected efforts of clubs, makers, enthusiasts and the press, to this end. There is twice the mileage of good roads in this country now that there was years ago. The bicycle itself with its two speed gearing and cushion frame presents a vehicle of greater ease and more comfort. Old riders are amazed at the difference between the machines of former times and those of to-day, and once trying them are easily converted to a resumption of the sport, wondering how they could have so neglected it.

The bicycle is indeed back, and seems to have come back this time to stay.



at a minimum of 10,000 pounds. It is estimated that 20,000 automobiles will be manufactured during the year 1904, this being considered a very conservative figure. These would make 5,500 carloads, which, handled one way only and charged for at the current minimum rate, would be the equivalent of 55,000,000 pounds. It is calculated that, including new cars shipped from factories, singly or in carload lots, and automobiles shipped from place to place by owners, the railroads of the United States will this year handle the equivalent of 197,500,000 pounds of automobiles, or 98,750 tons. This is equal, at the current rating, to 19,750 carloads, which would make 581 freight trains of average length, or one train nearly 150 miles long. AUTOMOBILES TAKE TO AIR.

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There is reason for great hopefulness among those pedestrians who are especially timid in regard to automobiles, in an unpretentious, unobtrusive little

newspaper item which announces that a New Yorker fond of athletics and "motoring," has placed an order with SantosDumont for the construction of an elaborate flying machine. The reader will readily perceive what is coming. The speed sportists are going to take to the air where there are no





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The Automobile Route from the Atlantic to the P

policemen, no skittish horses, no railroad tracks or trees or ditches to impede them, and where they may scorch to the extent of their endur


This will be a relief for them and for the rest of us. We care not how fast they may run their races; they have our free consent to astonish us to the limit for their ability. We give them the air for their disporting. The only precautions we need. take is that due notification be given of an accident in the upper ether which compels their hasty and sometimes headlong descent. in case of collisions or other wrecks, these airmobiles should be provided with automatic and pneumatic trumpets which will emit a loud note of warning by the mere swift passage of air through them as they are coming down. This will enable persons on the earth's surface to seek shelter. Should an airmobile fall on a housetop its structure is scarcely heavy enough to do serious damage, knocking off a chimney perhaps or smashing a skylight.


Great efforts have been made recently, by different auto enthusiasts in Southern California, for records. between Los Angeles and Santa

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Barbara. Mr. Norman Church (of Los Angeles) was the first to make a record between these two cities. This was done some three weeks ago, when Mr. Church made a trip in six hours and 26 minutes elapsed time. This was considered exceptionally good time and several efforts were made to lower this record. All were in vain however, until Mr. John F. McLain and Mr. Leon T. Shettler made the trip in five hours and 35 minutes. Messrs. McLain and Shettler were much pleased with their record and it was left for Mr. H. T. Lally of San Francisco to smash. This Mr. Lally did, accomplishing the feat in five hours and 21 minutes elapsed time. This beat the record of McLain and Shettler by fourteen minutes. It is believed. by Mr. Lally and his friends that this record will remain unbroken for some time to come, if made under the same conditions. Mr. Lally drove a 1904 Winton Touring Car, with a canopy top and four persons in the machine. He attributes the good time made is due to the fact that they were fortunate in not meeting any teams on the mountain grades. No accidents whatsoever occurred during the trip and Mr. Lally believes he has the fastest Winton Car on the Coast.

[graphic] designed by General Nelson A. Miles





When S'mantha's packed my satchel, An' I'm off fer 'Frisco town,

Where the streets 'r black with people
And the walls with dust 're brown;
Where the iron hoof-beats clatter

On the pesky cobblestones,
An' the car bells clang and jangle
An' the cable rasps an' drones,

I kinder stop an' linger,

While I tell 'em all good-bye, As I gaze out on the medder

An' the broad expanse of sky;

I listen to the songsters

As they're whistlin' in the trees,

An' I feel a benediction

In the gentle murmurin' breeze.

There's a brook that's runnin' yonder
Through my lower pastur' lot,
An' the trees a-growin' near it

Makes a sort o' fairy spot,

Where I sometimes sit a-dreamin'

When the sun is sinkin' low,

An' it touches up the water

With its purty dying glow.

Then I somehow feel so peaceful,
An' it seems so quiet there
That the babble o' the water

Soothes my tired soul like prayer;

An' I feel like all the meanness
I hev borne for many a day,
Is wafted from my bosom
An' is floated far away.

Mebbe there's blessin's scattered
In the city's busy ways,
Mebbe in their stately churches
Is the proper place for praise,

But somehow my religion

Kinder wilts and dwindles down When S'mantha's packed my satchel An' I'm off fer 'Frisco town.

A True Story


MUST say that I fail to see anything comical in the fact that we three nurses managed a chicken ranch for one year, and did so scientifically. Our friends and acquaintances, however, seemed to think it was a huge joke, and at the mere mention of the word chickens they fairly went off into hysterics.

There were those who prophesied it would not last, that we would soon tire of ranch life, and they eagerly waited their chance to say "I told you so."

To us, however, it was no joke, but a serious business, and we would still be living our peaceful bachelor maid life if certain events had not transpired which naturally changed our plans.

You see, it all happened in this


When Susan Broderick, Maggie Murphy and I returned from a three years' stay in the Philippines, where we had been on duty as army nurses in the military hospitals, we found that we were not able physically to perform the arduous duties of a private nurse, especially the night work.

Not caring to stay longer in the army service, we decided to take up some other sort of work for a livelihood.

For the benefit of the reader, I will state that whenever a nurse leaves her profession, she invariably does one of two things, namely: opens a little notion store or starts a poultry ranch.

We decided upon the latter of the two as being the best and pleasantest way in which to regain our health. Being Californians, we naturally knew that Chickenville, in

Feather County, was the place in which to locate, since it is the poultry center of the State.

We accordingly set forth one bright morning to call upon the real estate firm of Hamworth & Henry, which had been recommended to us as the most reliable of the numerous firms, dealing in poultry ranches in Chickenville.

The town has a population of five thousand souls. The Chickenville river divides it into east and west Chickenville. The railroad station, race track, and numerous factories are on the east side, the town proper being built on the west bank.

Any one could tell that the place was a poultry center, for hanging from almost every other store on the main street were signs which read: "Poultry Ranches for Sale and Exchange," "Highest Price Paid Here for Eggs and Poultry," "Chickenville Incubators and Brooders for Sale," to say nothing of the numerous other kinds of machinery for hatching and brooding chicks, nor the many varieties of foods, guaranteed to make hens lay continously the entire year. We finally found the Hamworth & Henry sign, hanging next to that of the Argus, Chickenville's foremost daily.

Both gentlemen were in the office. Mr. Hamworth was a pleasantfaced, elderly man, Mr. Henry being a young and exceedingly handsome fellow.

They seemed surprised when we made known our desire to buy a chicken ranch, especially when we said that we intended to manage it ourselves, but they were quite sure that they had several places which I would suit us. After being driven


about the country for the better part of two days, we finally came upon just the place we wanted. It was situated five miles from the town, contained eight acres, and was quite a new place, having been in existence only two years. The house was a four-roomed, hard-finished cottage, and it was to be sold furnished.

On the place there was a feed house containing a milk room and an incubator room, with an incubator of three hundred egg capacity, hen houses, brooder house, barn, well, a new two-seated spring wagon, and all of the necessary tools that go with a farm.

The stock was composed of one cow, one horse, five hundred hens, and three hundred young chicks just hatched.

Now, Susan has what I call Titian hair. Maggie says it is red. At any rate, it is the color that does not go well with a white horse, so Susan told the agent that she did not wish to locate on a place with a horse of that color. Chickenville seemed to have a monopoly on white horses, for on the road, as well as at every ranch where we stopped, we always saw the inevitable milk-white steed. Mr. Henry told us that he was of the opinion that this particular ranch we were about to inspect could boast a bay horse. As we alighted at the cottage, almost the first object we espied was a big white mare, whose name, we were told, was Mary. Maggie and I shouted with laughter-a mean thing to do, but we could not help it. Susan whispered: "If we take the place we will trade her off, you may be sure."

hundred eggs. We decided to take turns at house-keeping, each one to serve one month, as housekeeper. I was to be cook the first month, while Susan and Maggie were to be the "hands."

That first month, I am sure, we shall remember to our dying day.

One would have thought that the girls considered each hen a sick patient, so carefully were they tended and fed, so often and so thoroughly were their houses cleaned and carbolized. And the brooder chicks! No incubator baby ever had more attention, I am positive, than did those three hundred screaming bipeds. The lamps which supplied heat to the brooders were thoroughly cleaned and refilled each day. Over the warm gravel in their bed were spread their sacks, one set for the day and one for the night. These were washed out daily. Food was carried to them regularly, every two hours, for weeks, while milk, water, gravel and greens were always before them.

The incubator proved to be the greatest trial. The thermometer refused to stay any length of time at the 103 degree mark. It was either too low or too high, and caused Susan no end of anxiety and sleepless nights, she having taken the machine as her particular charge. One night when she stayed out longer than usual, Maggie went to hunt her, and found her sound asleep on a box, with her head resting on the machine.

Both girls had been reared on a ranch, but neither one had milked a cow since childhood, and I think that they rather dreaded the first attempt. Blackey was a peaceful old cow, and she quietly stood munch

Well, the place suited us; we bought it and moved in the following her bran and potatoes during the ing week. Susan stayed the last night with the departing owners in order to learn their mode of feeding the chickens and to get an idea of how to care for the incubator, which had been refilled with three

ordeal. Susan milked two teats and Maggie milked two, while I re-filled Blackey's feed box as occasion demanded. I think that was four times.

When the bucket was at last filled

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