It was this adaptation of copper wire to the uses of telephony which has made possible the wonderful extension of the service. When you talk to-day from city to city, the sound of your voice being transmitted, perhaps, for hundreds of miles, the lines are of hard drawn copper wire. Had there been no improvement in its manufacture, 27 miles would still have been an approach to the longest distance possible of attainment in telephony.

The development of the system quickly followed the adoption of the copper wire, and in 1893 communication was established with Chicago, and since then the extension of the lines has been so rapid that to-day it is practicable to talk over telephone lines 1,600 miles in length. That is about the distance from Boston to Omaha, and messages are sent every day between the two cities. Conversation has been held over even longer distances, and it is a matter of record that two persons have conversed when more than 1,900 miles apart. The Bell system of telephones now reaches 50,000,000 of the 90,000,000 inhabitants of the United States, and it is predicted by telephone experts that the time is soon coming when every nook and corner of this great land will be at the end of a telephone wire. It is one of the most marvelous stories of modern industrial development, and not the least wonderful of its features is the fact that a group of Bell men 25 years ago looked ahead and accu

rately outlined the growth of the business. They did not know how the scientific problems involved would be solved. They explained to the engineers whom they employed that the settlement of these questions was a task for the expert, but there were in those days no experts. No technical school had given a thought to the establishment of courses in telephony such as are now maintained by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Harvard University, but the companies were given the services of men who entered with enthusiasm upon this new and unknown occupation, and its fascinating mysteries and limitless possibilities. One by one difficulties were surmounted by these men who had no financial interest in the organization which they served. They have labored with zeal, born of love for the work, to develop telephony along the broad and comprehensive lines laid down by those who had at the start grasped the general, underlying principles, and they have contributed a remarkable chapter to the history of recent scientific and industrial progress. Many of them are still in harness to-day, working side by side with the graduates of the technical schools, and firm in the belief that, great as have been the achievements of the 25 years since city first talked with city, they are destined to be surpassed in the 25 years to come.

"B

UT, mother, dear, you actually need a new gown!"

"Yes, I know, butthere's Aunt Keziah, Eunice; it's nearly time to send money to her again."

A rebellious light flamed into the girl's eyes.

"It-it's always Aunt Keziah!" she cried.

"Eunice!"

"I can't help it, mother. It-it seems as if I just couldn't bear it!" returned the girl, hurriedly, the words fairly tumbling over each other in the rush of a long-pent-up wrath. "I love Aunt Keziah, and I'm sorry for her, of course; and if she only seemed to care, or to-appreciate anything, even half way, I -why, mother, I'd be willing to work my fingers off!-I know I would."

"But, Eunice," remonstrated Mrs. Johnson, "Eunice, my child, your aunt is sick and nervous; she—”

"I know, mother dear, and I'm sorry-I said I was; but can't you see what I mean? If she'd only appreciate things and be sorry, or-or anything, I wouldn't mind so much. But here, month after month and year after year we've been pinching and slaving and giving up and giving up. It seems as if all the money we could scrape together went into a great big bottomless well, and-"

"Eunice-stop! You frighten me! I didn't think you could talk so. Is this my Eunice?-my loving, kindhearted daughter?"

Eunice burst into tears and flung her arms around her mother's neck. "No-no-no! I'm cross and ugly, and I know it. But when I see your poor tired face and your made-over gowns, and father's old clothes, and Paul eating his heart out to go to college, and Jennie longing for a piano and lessons andand everything, it seems as if I couldn't bear it!"

Mrs. Johnson sighed, and the lines about her mouth deepened.

"Yes, dearie, I know; I understand. Paul and Jennie-I, too, wish that they but never mind; perhaps it'll all come in good time. You know there are the boarders this summer-they'll bring in a lot!" she finished cheerily.

It was ten years ago that Caleb Johnson had first undertaken the entire support of his invalid sister, Keziah. Keziah Johnson was not only crippled, but was afflicted with a mysterious nervous trouble, together with "complications," all of which rendered her a misery to herself and a helpless burden to her friends.

For eight years now, Keziah had been in a Home for Incurables, where she was given every comfort and attention, as well as the very best of medical care. The necessary expense of all this, however, had been a severe tax on the slender resources of Caleb Johnson. But willing hands had worked and willing heads had planned. Gowns had been. turned, old clothes had been made

to serve double duty, and Paul had been kept at home to help. The hands had sometimes faltered, and the heads had grown gray with care; but bit by bit the money was raised and Keziah had been kept in the Home.

All that long summer many boarders came to the neat, white farmhouse on the hill, but it was Miss Barrington that quite won the hearts of the Johnson family. It was she that loaned books to Paul, and took Jeanie for long walks; she that taught Eunice how to fashion dainty stocks and collars from bits of lace and ribbon, and it was she that talked with the tired mother when the work was done at night, putting new hope and courage into her heart. One day she said:

"Mrs. Johnson, you've a regular treasure-house of old rugs here; did you know it? Were your busy fingers the cause of it all?”

66

'Twas Keziah, mostly - Mr. Johnson's youngest sister," returned the woman, quick pride in her voice. "Keziah was a master hand for rugs, Miss Barrington, and-poor childit was the only thing I ever knew that she really loved to do-to hook in rugs."

In time, Miss Barrington came to know all about the invalid charge of the household; and what Miss Barrington was not told outright, she quickly divined-the pinching, slaving economy. It was on the day she was to return to New York that she said:

"Now that I know where your sister is, Mrs. Johnson, I'm going to call on her some day. She isn't far out from the city."

Thus it was that Miss Keziah Johnson received, early in September, a visitor.

"I've just come from your brother's house, Miss Johnson," began Miss Barrington, pleasantly. "I thought perhaps you'd like to hear from them."

"Hm-m," commented Keziah, with a keen glance that encompassed every tasteful detail of her visitor's toilet. "The folks are well, I suppose?-they generally are. Nothing ever ails them!"

Miss Barrington caught her breath. "Why-yes, they seemed well," she murmured.

"Hm-m; I thought so. Ella's strong as a horse."

"Mrs. Johnson has been working very hard this summer," began Miss Barrington, with quick aggressive

ness.

"Well-she's able to; isn't she? Likes it, too!"

"Yes, but-”

"Look a' here, just suppose she had to stay propped up in this chair -suppose she had!"

"Your sister is very sorry for you, Miss Johnson, and she does everything she can. Perhaps you do not quite do her justice. She-"

"Justice!" snapped Keziah, “justice! My dear woman, there isn't any justice to it-she can walk, and go where she wants to."

"You are a little mistaken there," returned Miss Barrington, gravely. "To my certain knowledge, Mrs. Johnson wanted very much to come

cost 'em some money, but-they're able to earn it, aren't they? Seeit's like this," she continued, indicating with her finger two imaginary points in her lap.

"They walk. I sit.

"They're well. I'm sick. "They can work. I can't. "They earn money. I spend it." Miss Barrington laughed in spite of the quick words of remonstrance that rose to her lips and clamored to be heard. She looked at the thin, drawn face and nervous fingers of the woman before her in silence for a moment; when she spoke, it was with a curiously abrupt change of subject.

"I saw some of your handiwork this summer, Miss Johnson," she said with a bright smile.

The invalid's face underwent an entire change.

"Rugs?-did you see my rugs?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, and I was much interested in them."

"Did you see the one with the roses and the flower-pot in the middle, and the one with a dog's head, and-Miss Barrington, did you see the one-the little one with my name in the corner?”

"Yes-all of them. You liked the work, I fancy, Miss Johnson."

"Liked it! Seems as though I could feel the hook in my hands now, and see the thing grow under my fingers!" The sick woman lay back in her chair and looked dreamily out of the window. "The little rug with my name," she continued, "that was me, Miss Barrington. I worked me into that rug. Funny, wasn't it? But I was just beginning to be lame and I was kinder worrying. I called the dark green my lameness; it's all through the rugI couldn't keep it out. I kept get

ting hold of it, and it almost frightened me, but I put it in. Some days I felt better-there were pinks and blues in the rug, then. There's white there, and some bright red, too. It looks sort of mixed up to other folks, I guess, but I put each day in just as it happened, and I can read it like a book. Sometimes the colors shade down pretty into just pale tints, and sometimes they stop right off short and sudden; but I know-I know what they all mean."

Miss Barrington was silent. She dared not trust herself to speak just then. By-and-by Keziah turned. from the window.

"I did so love the pretty, bright strips that slipped along through my fingers, Miss Barrington, and this room is so bare and white!"

A sudden thought came to Miss Barrington.

"Why don't you make rugs now?" she cried. "Could you?-are you strong enough?"

Again Keziah's face changed, and that wonderful light shone in her eyes; but the light quickly fled, and the lips settled into the old querulous lines.

"Dear, dear, I'm strong enoughmost days," she acknowledged wearily, "and the doctor has asked me over and over again if there wasn't something I could do to take up my mind. But how could I? I haven't any pieces-and who do you suppose is going to fetch their old clothes way here for me to make up into rugs? I guess, Miss Barrington, my rug-making days are passed!"

"Not a bit of it!" laughed the see!" And with that she went away. other, cheerily. "Just you wait and

Wonderful days came to Keziah Johnson then. lovely pattern

Keziah's hooked rugs, Miss Barrington saw latent possibilities which Keziah's longing eyes and quaint fancies had convinced her might easily be developed.

New, all-wool material was dyed in the rich Oriental tones, and brought to Keziah, The room

glowed dully with reds and browns and greens, and Keziah's eyes grew luminous. A new, original designquite unlike the flower-pots and dogs' heads of the old days—was furnished, and under Miss Barrington's artistic direction, Keziah went to work.

Once more the many-hued strands slipped through Keziah's eager fingers, and when the rug-soft as silk and with a velvety sheen-lay before her in all its finished beauty, she drew in her breath with a gasp of delight.

"Oh, it is pretty-isn't it?" she whispered, almost reverently.

It was then that Miss Barrington told her that out in the world such rugs were valuable now-that rich women would pay good prices for them.

"Buy my rug? Pay money to me?" cried Keziah.

"Yes, gladly," returned Miss Barrington, almost frightened at the strange look in the cripple's eyes.

"And if I made another-would they buy that?"

"I think so."

"Miss Barrington, "-Keziah's long, thin fingers closed over her friend's hand convulsively-“do you mean that I can do something in the world that I can be somethingthat I can take my share of living, and not be just a useless stick that nobody wants 'round? Miss Barrington-you're telling me the truth! you're not playing with me!"

"No, no, dear-no!" choked the

lady huskily. "I am sure of what I say."

And Keziah lay back in her chair with a long, contented sigh which seemed to lift the weight of years.

Before a week had passed the rug was sold for a sum that to Keziah seemed fabulously large. With shining eyes and trembling fingers she started a new one, then another, and yet another. Time passed, and Miss Barrington brought orders to her for special designs and shapes. Crests and coats of arms were executed upon hall rugs, and charming jewel effects were introduced into the borders of portieres.

Keziah's room-no longer plain and bare-radiated warmth and color, and even Keziah herself was changed. The helpless limbs, it is true, still refused to bear her weight, but the days that were devoted to the "nerves" and the "complications" came to be fewer and fewer as Keziah's heart grew lighter and her eyes grew brighter.

It was in the early winter that she said to Miss Barrington:

"I want to send a Christmas box to my brother's family. Could you manage it-select the things for me, I mean?"

"Of course, I could! That will be delightful, I'm sure."

"I'll put in books and candy, and a new gown for Ella. Poor Ellashut up in that farmhouse-she don't have many good times."

"Er-no-she doesn't," murmured Miss Barrington, with a sidelong glance.

"Do you know," continued Keziah, without seeing the glance, "when we were girls, Ella used to like to make rugs 'most as well as I did. I was thinking the other day that I didn't believe she got much chance nowadays to do it, and I was