| Summary: | Newsletter of the North Dakota School for the Deaf. The North Dakota Banner Vol. XXVII DEVILS LAKE, N. D., MARCH 15, 1918 Young Fellow My Lad. (Rll YMES OF A Red Cboss Ma n) "Where are you iroinir, Younts Fellow My Liul. On thistrlitterin^ inorn of May?" "I'm troinuto join the Colours, Dad: They're looking for men. they say." "But you're only n boy. Young Fellow M.v Dad: You aren't obliged to go " "I'mseventeen and a quarter. Dad, And ever so strong, you know." "So you're off to France, Young Fellow My Lad. And you're looking so tit and bright." "I'm terribly sorry to leave you. Dad. But I feel that I'm doing right." "God bless you and keep you. Young Fellow My Lad, You’re all of my life, you know." "Don't worry. I'll soon be back, dear Dad, And I'm awfully proud to go." "Why don’t you write, Young Fellow My Lad? I watch for the post each day: And I miss you so. and I'm awfully sad. And it’s months since you went away. And I've had the lire in the parlour lit. And I'm keeping it burning bright 'Fill my boy comes home: and here I sit Into the quiet night.” "Whatis the matter. Young Fellow My Lad? No letter again today. Why did the post man look so sad. And sigh as he turned away? I hear them tell that we've gained new ground. But a terrible price we've paid: God grant, my boy. that you're safe and sound; But oh l*m afraid, afraid.” They've told me the truth. Young Fellow My Lad, You'll never come back again: (Oh God! the dreams and the dreams I've had. And the hopes I've nursed in vain!) For you passed in the night. Young Fellow My Lad: And you proved in the cruel test Of the screaming shell and the battle hell That my boy was one of the hest." ''So you'll live, you'll live. Young Fellow My Lad, In the gleam of the evening star, in the wood-note wild and the laugh of the child. In all sweet things that are. And you'll never die. my wonderful boy, While life is noble and true: For all our beauty and hope and joy We will owe to our lads like you." —Service. The Magic of a Piece of Coal. 1 las it ever occurred to yon that the vanilla with which many a favorite <lish of yours is flavored is made from coal? Will you believe that most of the dyes which have stained the fabrics of your clothes, that the naphtha and benzine which your tailor uses in removing stains, and that oven the sweetest perfumes, are all of them derivatives of coal ? It was once said by a scientist, that coal is "buried sunshine.” This describes with simple forceful directness the real nature of the vast black deposits that constitute the very life of our industries. Every one knows that coal is of vegetable origin, and that plant life cannot exist without the sun. Some hundreds of thousands of years ago, when this earth was covered with dense forests, the sun began its work of converting the carbonic, acid gas of the atmosphere into solid carbon, and trees and plants began to store up its energy. Year by year, the leaves, twigs and branches which flourished under the sun’s warmth and light dropped at the foot of each tree, and formed beds of peat after they had accumulated in suftieient quantities. Layer upon layer of vegetable material piled up, until the pressure on the underlying masses compacted them into what we uow term coal. The internal heat of the earth, then much more intense than now, drove off some of the gases and made the change more complete. Something of the enormous extent of ancient coalforming jungles may be conceived, when it is said that our present forests would produce only two or three inches of coal if they, too. were subjected to a carbonizing process. The magicians who have wrought wonders with coal are the gas-makers and the chemists. If coal is burnt in the open air, heat is produced and nothing left but a little ash. Burn it in a closed vessel, however, and marvellous changes occur. In the first place coal-gas is produced, which after having been collected and chemically treated is supplied to every city home. Futher-more, ammonia is obtained, important in modern agriculture, because by its means plants can be artificially supplied with the oxygen they need. Then again, asphalt is produced, much used in road-making, although the gas-retort is not the chief source of its supply. Lastly, a black, noisome ooze is collected which goes by the name of "coal-tar.” It is this which,’ at the touch of the modern chemist’s wand, is transformed into the most widely different substances imaginable. , Every hue of nature has been extracted from this foul-smelling coal tar, and in addition many beautiful colors utterly unlike anything to be found in nature have been charmed out of it. To such proportions has the coal-tar industry grown that natural dyes are nowadays rarely employed. Splendid reds of all shades, delicate blues, rich greens, exquisite yellows, warm biowns and dead blacks me now all obtained front coal. The dies thus artificially made are numbered by thousands. Hardly a week passes but the discovery of a new one is chronicled oy scientific journals. The chemist has succeeded in obtaining more from coal than these rainbow hues. Had he not made his minute analysis of coal, modem surgery might not have achieved its striking successes so rapidly, for he enriched its stock of drugs with carbolic, a most valuable antiseptic. The wonders of coal, do not cease here. A way has been devised of extracting from it many of the rapid developers so widely used by photographers. Beside these, there have also been discovered the perfumes to which reference has been already made—perfumes just as fragrant as the natural odors of flowers, from which, indeed, they cannot be distinguished by smell. The host of artificial flavors which has been mentioned has completely displaced natural products. True fruit flavors are rarely employed nowadays, wittingly. Their place is taken by coal tar derivatives which are exactly the same in taste and chemical composition. Among the more remarkable of these is saccharin, sweeter than sugar several hundred times and quite indispensable in the treatment of certain diseases that are caused by au excess of sugar in the system. The coal bin in the cellar, theu, contains not simply fuel, but other things that are indispensable in daily life. Consciously, we burn it as a fuel; unconsciously we eat it with our highly flavored ices and pastries, paint our pictures with it, employ it in dyeing our fabrics, iu healing our sick and killing our enemies. A piece of coal is therefore more than ‘’buried sunshine.” It is a palette of gorgeous colors, a medicine chest of potent drugs, a whole arsenal of terrible explosives, a vial of delicious flavor and a garden of perfumes; the most protean, variegated substance in the world. — Cosmopolitan. The sense of honor is of so fine and delicate a nature that it is only met with in minds which are naturally noble, or in such as have been cultivated by go'id example or a refined education.— Addison.
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