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A MARTYR TO INDIGESTION Cured by Using Ayer's Sarsaparilla
Words of Comfort to All who Suffer from Dyspepsia.
"For years, I was a martyr to indigestion, and had about given up all hope of ever finding relief, as the complaint only seemed to grow worse instead of better, under ordinary treatment. At last, I was induced to try Ayer's Sarsaparilla, and I hereby testify that after using only three bottles, I was cured. I can, therefore confidently recommend this medicine to all similarly afflicted." — FRANKLIN BECK, Avoca, Iowa.
"I am personally acquainted with Mr. Beck and believe any statement he may make to be true." — W. J. MAXWELL, Druggist and Pharmacist, Avoca, Iowa.
"I have used Ayer's Sarsaparilla for general debility and, as a blood-purifier, find it does exactly as is claimed for it." — S. J. ADAMS, Ezzell, Texas.
Ayer's The Only Sarsaparilla
Admitted for Exhibition
AT THE WORLD'S FAIR
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 7.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
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It Is a Menace to the Health of Man, Woman and Child.
There is hardly anything new that can be said to the spitting part of the community to cure this very bad habit. Signs have been placed in cars positively forbidding the act, yet in these same vehicles a woman has to carefully select her seat in order to save the cleanliness of her skirts. Women's clubs have aired the matter freely. Newspapers have devoted columns to condemnation of the vile habit, yet one has only to walk a square in a popular neighborhood to see how vain has been all this hue and cry and how indifferent the male portion of the town is to a clean and orderly civic housekeeping, for a cleanliness of a city is but the cleanliness of the home extended beyond the front door, and there is no more reason why a man should make a public walk distasteful to hundreds of people than that he should disturb the members of his family by using vilely the hallways and floors of his home.
In the house, for throat and mouth that must be relieved, a proper place or receptacle is provided, and the man who would attempt to neglect their use would surely hear sharply from the head of the house. So in our civic home the proper place for spitting is surely not on the sidewalk, and the man who neglects to step to the curb at such times should hear very sharply from those who represent our civic head. Perhaps the weakness of this reform is that the evil has always been regarded as affecting the happiness of only a part of the community — the women — but if it could be emphasized, what is so clearly a truth, that this spitting habit is a direct and easy medium for the spread of diseases, thus affecting the welfare of the whole community, the offenders may take some thought of the matter. The secretion of thousands of throats, drying where it lays and throwing off the germs of the bronchial and other diseases which cause them, fill the very atmosphere with danger, and every mouth and nostril that passes by runs the gantlet of danger. That fact, though a true one, gives rise to uncomfortable thoughts, but the subject itself is a most uncomfortable one, and the sooner the cause for all this discomfort and uneasiness is removed the better for all, not only for the woman and her skirt braids, but for the health of the man, woman and child. — Philadelphia Press.
It is a curious fact that, while you can buy photographs of any place in Europe in nearly all the bookshops of New York, it is almost impossible to find views of the buildings in that city. I went up and down Broadway and Fifth avenue for miles the other day trying to find pictures of the prominent clubs and the palaces that have been built on Fifth avenue during the last two years, but nobody has them for sale, and nobody knew where I could get them, so I was compelled to hire a photographer and have them taken. — New York Letter in Chicago Record.
Ben Jonson's wife went to the inn after him if he staid too long and brought him home, tongue lashing him all the way.
The following is taken verbatim from a woman's journal: "After you have bathed put on sufficient underclothing and do not arrange your stays too tight; then select a dress out of which the dust has been shaken and go to your breakfast." Such advice might not be out of place in an asylum for feeble minded people, but it would hardly seem fit advice to give the public general, for a woman under ordinary circumstances ought to know enough to put on her underclothing and dress and go to the table without being told.
In another place it says: "A corset cover is simply a matter of taste. Very many women wear it, and very many do not." This will no doubt be startling news to most people. The current supposition would be that women are born in corset covers and never take them off. — Nokomis Free Press-Gazette.
"The doctor has ordered me to try change for awhile," said Mrs. Gabb.
"Then if I were you I would go to a photographer's and have my picture taken," said Mr. Gabb.
"Why should I do that?" asked the lady as she brought her teeth together with a click.
"Because the photographer will tell you to look pleasant, and if you obey him it will be the greatest change that you could possibly experience." — New York Mail and Express.
Do not neglect wounds, no matter how slight, from dull or rusty instruments that might produce lockjaw. They should be immediately soaked in hot brine, and the smoke from burning woolen rags will also prove beneficial.
Keys of bronze and iron have been found in Greece and Italy dating from at least the seventh century before Christ.
Manitou is an Indian word, meaning "spirit."
The young lady who is unequal to conversation is only safe when she confines herself to yes and no. Thus far she may not be especially interesting, but she at least keeps out of trouble. One such girl, who seemed to be interested in nothing "in the heavens above or the earth beneath," was one day left alone with a gentleman, who found the greatest difficulty in keeping up the conversation to what he considered a desirable level.
He thought helplessly of that other sustainer of a forlorn conversational hope, who tried one subject after another, with no result. The other man could not talk, but after a dozen topics had been vainly broached, he brightened, and said, "Try me on leather!" What, in this present case, could the young lady's "leather" be? Where did her interests lie?
At length the discouraged man had recourse to nonsense. A stuffed bird was set up in one corner of the room, and he mentally clutched at it for inspiration.
"Do you know what kind of a bird that is?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"I fancy it's an albatross!"
"Yes, and very likely the one that was shot by the 'Ancient Mariner.' "
The young lady leaned forward with a pretty semblance of interest.
"Is it, truly?" she asked, with enthusiasm. "How very glad I am to see it!" — Youth's Companion.
She Was a Poor Talker and Drove Thackeray Out of the House.
In her charming memoirs Mrs. Thackeray Ritchie tells of an evening with Charlotte Bronte, the author of "Jane Eyre," spent at her father's house: Every one waited for the brilliant conversation, which never began at all. Miss Bronte retired to the sofa in the study and murmured a low word now and then to our kind governess, Miss Truelock. The room looked very dark; the lamp began to smoke a little; the conversation grew dimmer and more dim; the ladies sat round still expectant; my father was too much perturbed by the gloom and the silence to be able to cope with it at all. Mrs. Brookfield, who was in the doorway by the study, near the corner in which Miss Bronte was sitting, leaned forward with a little commonplace, since brilliance was not to be the order of the evening.
"Do you like London, Miss Bronte?" she said. Another silence, a pause, then Miss Bronte answers, "Yes and no," very gravely, and there the conversation drops.
My sister and I were too young to be bored in those days — alarmed, impressed we might be, but not yet bored. A party was a party, a lioness was a lioness, and — shall I confess it? — at that time an extra dish of biscuits was enough to mark the evening. We felt all the importance of the occasion. Tea spread in the dining room, ladies in the drawing room, we roamed about inconveniently no doubt and excitedly, and in one of my excursions, crossing the hall, I was surprised to see my father opening the front door with his hat on. He put his fingers to his lips, walked out into the darkness and shut the door quickly behind him. When I went back into the drawing room, again the ladies asked me where he was. I vaguely answered that I thought he was coming back.
I was puzzled at the time, nor was it all made clear to me until long years afterward, when one day Mrs. Proctor asked me if I knew what had happened once when my father had invited a party to meet Jane Eyre at his house. It was one of the dullest evenings she had ever spent in her life, she said. And then with a good deal of humor she described the situation — the ladies had all come expecting much delightful conversation, and the gloom and the constraint, and how finally, overwhelmed by the situation, my father had quietly left the room, left the house and gone off to his club. — New York Advertiser.
In the old Spanish-American days in the southwest marriage was a matter in which the contracting parties had little to say, the question of choice and fitness being settled by the parents of the couple. The practice has fallen so much out of date in the present generation that it sounds odd to read now in a published account of a recent marriage at Guadalupita, N. M., in which a Mexican of 68 years wedded a senorita of 16 years; that the compensations he was called upon to make for the difference in their respective ages was settled at 30 varas of land, an adobe house and five apple trees, presumably to be paid to her parents. — Chicago Tribune.
What Bothered Her
Mildred — So you sprained your ankle jumping from a cable car, oh? Was it painful?
Gertrude — Oh, I didn't mind the pain, but when I saw how young and handsome the ambulance surgeon was and remembered that I was wearing nile green stockings with a tan colored dress I fainted dead away! — New York Herald.
A Pompeiian hand mirror of brass cost 78 cents, of silver $9.27, and the seller guaranteed to keep it bright.
Rye contains from 2 to 5 per cent less of the nitrogenous principles than wheat.
An Indian Chief's Bad Aim Is All That Saved His Life.
"My narrowest escape? It was at the time of the capture of the Indian chief, Lame Deer. It was almost in the midst of a charge. I rode up to where he was standing, and we shook hands. Suddenly he drew back his hand, and seizing his rifle stepped back a little, leveled it directly at my head and fired. Owing to his excitement, doubtless, he missed, and I was unhurt. But a brave soldier boy, a little to one side and back of me, was instantly killed. I do not think that the Indian chief premeditated this act. He doubtless thought that, having been captured, he was sure to be killed; that he was surely bound for the happy hunting grounds and he might as well take a white chief with him. Yet I, or rather my Indian scout, had told him that he would not be harmed if he surrendered then and there. He did not trust us, for he would not have kept his word with me if he had given it in similar circumstances. The man who cannot be trusted never trusts. Lame Deer was afterward killed."
"Which would you rather fight, Indians or white men?"
"Well, when you are fighting Indians, you know exactly what to expect. If you do not whip them, they will kill you surely. They give no quarter. You cannot make terms if you surrender. They pay no attention to the rules of war observed by civilized warriors who will not use poisoned arrows or poisoned explosive bullets. The Indians torture and mutilate prisoners. They will even violate a flag of truce. I came near being killed under a flag of truce once when I was holding a conference with Sitting Bull. The plan was discovered in time by some of our folks and frustrated." — Interview with General Miles in St. Louis Republic.
The proprietor of a hardware store has found it necessary to display conspicuously over his counter the following sign: "Our business is to sell tools, not to loan them."
"Did you actually find it necessary to hang up that notice?" I asked him.
"Of course I did," he replied. "Hardly a day passes that I don't have somebody running in here and asking me to lend him a hammer, a saw or a chisel. It's one of the freaks of human nature, and I can't account for it. Persons who would not think of going into a hatshop to borrow a hat or to a furnishing store to borrow a shirt seem to think it's the most natural thing in the world to come in here and ask me to lend them a hammer." — New York Herald.
The breeding places of the Chesapeake ducks are in Canada, where they are being destroyed in vast numbers by the cutting away of the forests which shelter the lakes and pools where they harbor and by the use and sale of their eggs. Thousands of these eggs are annually marketed, and by these methods, rather than by numbers actually shot, they have been greatly diminished.
This condition of things seems to be beyond remedy, since a state cannot make a treaty with a foreign power, and the general government is not likely to interfere on behalf of what is practically a Maryland industry or to provide such compensation as Canada might see fit to ask if a proposal were made to her to protect the ducks in their native habitat.
So the prospect is that 50 years will see the extermination of the finest wild fowl in the world, and one of the most prized delicacies of the table. — Lippincott's.
They Are Dainty, Demure and Pretty and Feed on Watermelon Seed.
When, for instance, a Chinese gentleman intends giving a dinner to three friends, he will arrange for it to be provided on a flower boat at a certain hour, and also for the company of eight dining out girls — two for each gentleman. I call them dining out girls, as it best describes to me their calling. They will come prettily dressed, their hair done up in most wonderful shapes and brushed over with a sort of varnish, which makes it appear like a fantastic headdress carved in ebony. They will ornament this structure with bright flowers, though the wreaths will be as stiff as their hair, or they will sometimes add jade, gold or feathered inlaid ornaments. Their faces will be painted in white and pink, very artistically painted, smooth and soft looking; delicately traced, sharp black crescents will mark their eyebrows. Dainty, demure dolls they will appear, and pretty to look upon, but seemingly one touch would destroy their artistic effects, as a rough hand the radiance of a butterfly's wing.
Two of these young ladies will attend to each gentleman, sitting slightly back from the table at each side of the entertained. They will fill his liquor cups, sip from them and pass them on, pick out dainty pieces of "chow" (food) with chopsticks and hand them to him, crack jokes, fill and light his pipe and all the while chat gayly and eat dried watermelon seeds. That is all I ever saw them eat. Behind each group of three a solemn looking cooly, or waiter, will stand to fan them all the while. Other waiters bring in food, wine and tea, change the dishes and attend to their wants. The meal will last for a long time. Eventually all will rise and retire to an outer room furnished with broad couches covered with matting. Opium pipes will be there for those who care for them, and tobacco and cigars in plenty. The girls will sit on the couches, laugh, fill the pipes and still eat watermelon seeds, while the gentlemen will recline at their ease, enjoying their society. — Century.
And It Was Not For Running Off the Track, but For Trespass.
When the railwaymen gathered at their customary resort, they found that Receiver E. O. Hopkins of the Air Line had preempted the most comfortable seat and was busily engaged in conversation with General Manager McDoel of the Monon, who happened to be spending an hour or two in St. Louis.
"I've just been telling Hopkins, here," said Mr. McDoel, "about a little railway in North Carolina. It forms part of the new Southern system now, but it used to be known as the Western North Carolina division of the Richmond and Danville. It runs from Asheville to a jumping off place called Murphy, and beyond all doubt it is, or was, the very worst piece of road in the world. It had every fault that can be imagined — heavy grades, rotting ties, light iron, thin ballast and all the rest of it. Nobody ever boarded a train without taking out an accident policy, and all the insurance companies charged double premiums, the risk being what they called 'extra hazardous.' Of course trains were constantly running off the track and ditching themselves, but there never were many passengers, and the trainmen had acquired, by long practice, the knack of jumping at just the right time, so no great harm was done. A few cars would be wrecked, but probably they would have fallen to pieces in a week or two anyway.
"Well, one day the Asheville cannon ball — it ran fully ten miles an hour when the wind was in its favor — jumped the track and plunged into an adjoining cornfield. The crew, as usual, escaped without injury and sat quietly to await the wrecking train. I may say, by the way, that the wrecking train made regular trips on that road and did more business than all the others.
"After looking over the situation the conductor — name was Joe — sauntered up to the engineer — name was Bill.
" 'Bill,' said the conductor, 'you'll be fired for this day's work. That's what you'll be. It's a sure thing.'
" 'Fire, nothing,' was Bill's reply. 'What have I done? Don't we skip the track most every day? Old man McBee'd be paralyzed if we didn't run off once or twice. What'd I be fired for?'
" 'Bill,' said the conductor solemnly, 'you'll be fired, and I'm sorry for it. You've been trespassing. Running off the track don't count, of course, but you've gone and left the right of way and trespassed on a man's farm. He'll sue the company, and you'll be fired.'
"And he was fired," concluded Mr. McDoel. "The superintendent ruled that an engineer was not privileged, even on that road, to take his train off the right of way, and that trespassing in a cornfield was an offense punishable by dismissal." — St. Louis Republic.
Who is the greatest benefactor of the legal profession? Professor Wood of the Edinburgh chair of conveyancing the other day told his students how at a dinner of English country solicitors the oldest practitioner present was asked to propose the greatest benefactor of the profession as a toast and how he rose and said: "Gentleman, fill up your glasses. Here's to the man who makes his own will!" — Westminster Gazette.
A Costly Walking Stick
The most precious walking stick in the world is said to be owned by a Dr. Hailes of New York. The handle is made of a nugget of virgin gold, weighing nearly three pounds, and joined to the stem by a ring studded with 65 diamonds. It is valued at $3,000. — Jewelers' Circular.
A Feeling Wife
Even the most impulsive women have their good traits. An Irishman, mourning his late wife, tearfully remarked: "Faith, and she was a good woman. She always hit me wid do soft ind av the broom." — Texas Siftings.
GAMES IN WHICH MEN AND PONIES ENGAGE ON PUNCHERS' DAYS.
Tests of Skill That Would Not Do For Ordinary Riders—A Sort of Tag of War With a Beautiful Shock at the End of It—Joy Unalloyed.
In a meeting of Texas and Oklahoma cow punchers last season after the work was done it was proposed to have a "cow punchers' day."
"Let's stretch a few ropes," said one of them.
The men were lying idly about in camp when this announcement was made, but in a twinkling they were on their feet saddling horses, tightening girths and preparing for action in general. Before an easterner could have bridled his horse the men had divided into two opposing sides. One man from each side had unslung his rope, one end of which was firmly secured to the horn of his saddle. The loose ends of the two ropes were then tied together, thus leaving the two riders joined to each other by about 100 feet of rope fastened to their Saddle horns. They took their stand facing the same way and only a few feet apart, leaving the rope slack between them. Suddenly, as if at a signal, they put spurs to their ponies and dashed off at full speed. For awhile the rope trailed in a double curve, but gradually tightened as the two riders began to turn each to the outside and away from each other. Finally the motion ceased, each horse pulling against the other in such a way that neither had the advantage.
The strain on the ropes was tremendous, but the ropes, constructed to stand the pulling of a maddened steer, stood this test also. The plucky little ponies panted and tugged and strained their nerves against each other. Their riders had all they could do to encourage their animals and to keep them in such a position as to retain their own seats. Had either pony turned his back squarely for a fair pull, the rider would have been brushed off by the rope immediately. It was a test that required fine horsemanship, a steady hand and a practiced eye. It was a well fought battle, and the spectators cheered it lustily. For some minutes neither pony seemed able to pull the other, but gradually the Texas pony seemed to gain the advantage. Step by step he backed away, pulling his opponent with him.
Seeing he was beaten if he relied on brute force, the Oklahoma man determined to see what strategy would do. Keeping the rope always taut, he galloped around the circumference of a circle of which his antagonist was the center and the rope a radius. First he galloped in one direction and then in the opposite. Then he stopped altogether and slackened the rope. His only hope was to brush his antagonist out of his saddle with the rope, and as long as his opponent faced him squarely he could not do this.
Once more the Oklahoma puncher slacks the rope, his opponent's pony turns slightly, and quick as a flash the rope has swung around, and the Texan is lifted clear of his saddle and thrown violently to the ground.
"Hurt, Bill?" asks one of his own men as the defeated puncher remounts and joins his side.
"Well, you oughter be. You oughter have your neck broke for gettin' tricked that way."
For over an hour such contests went on, with fortune favoring sometimes one side and sometimes the other.
The last thing of the day as well as the last of all punchers' days was what might be called a tug of war contest, a general conflict, answering, unintentionally enough, to the melee of ancient tournaments. It was held in the evening. Three ropes were twisted together into one thick cable, as the occasion required threefold power of resistance. Some eight or ten single ropes were fastened to each side of the cable, the other ends being attached to the saddle horns of the riders, the Texan crowd on one side and the Oklahoma crowd on the other. The battle began with a straight tug, one side against the other. Ponies and men, every nerve quivering, were pulling as if life and death depended on the struggle. Some were heaving against the ropes as they would in pulling a heavy load in harness. Others were pulling backward, with the long rope stretching away in front of them. The threefold cable held firm.
Now one side gave way a few feet and now the other. Soon, however, it became evident that the Texans were being out-pulled. Then the scene changed. The Texans swung round and round to entangle their opponents and brush them from their saddles. This movement was met by a counter movement. Whichever can get outside in this contest has the advantage; hence it is evident a long rope is a boon. Shorty Wilkus is doing his best to push a big Texan back. He is doing nobly, but now two Texans get together and swing around at full speed squarely against him. He and his horse go down together. He gets on his feet again amid the hurly burly of horses and men and dodges outside unharmed to safety. His riderless horse regains its feet and rushes on in the melee, adding to The confusion and entanglements. Now all system vanishes; ropes sweep men from the saddle; horses become entangled and go down; yells, cheers, shouting, swearing, shooting, are fearful. Finally it is discovered that two Texans still retain their places, while all the Oklahoma saddles are empty. This settles it. The Texans have won.
Bloody noses, black eyes, bruised faces and tattered garments were visible everywhere after the fun, and the ponies were as badly used up as the men. Yet none was killed, and no one was seriously hurt. The best of good feeling and fellowship prevailed. The men sat around the big campfire, over which a newly killed cow was roasting on a huge spit, and laughed and joked over the incidents of the day. Their joy was unalloyed. — Henrietta (Tex.) Cor., New York Sun
The Philadelphia Record quotes a traveler in Japan as saying that, in spite of their advance in civilization, the Japanese retain much of their primitive simplicity. They always leave their shoes at the door of a house when they enter and walk inside in their stocking feet. When the first railroad was started from Yokohama to Tokyo, all the Japanese gentlemen were crazy to ride. They hurried to the station, kicked their shoes off on the platform and entered the train. When they arrived at Tokyo, they eagerly looked around the platform for their shoes, and great consternation prevailed when those shoes were nowhere to be found.
The Ideal Woman
Ruth Ashmore, who writes so interestingly for girls, said recently: "The manner of woman I would be is the woman who is nearest to best in everything, in her thought of other people, in her care for them, and in her loving kindness to them. Don't you think this comes near the ideal woman?"
"Don't you think it's a speaking picture?"
"Yes, Beardsley, it fairly shrieks. Why don't you muffle it?" — New York Record.
The German emperor is possessed of a remarkable tablecloth, which was presented to him upon the occasion of his wedding by the women of Schleswig and Holstein. Woven into its texture are a great number of proverbs and mottoes. These had become obliterated by use. The emperor, however, being desirous of having the words rendered readable, caused the cloth to be sent to Berlin, where it has been carefully cleaned. The following are a few of the proverbs to be found upon it:
"Willst thou here have spass (fun), be thou careful with thy glass," "Endurance gives strength that lasts," "Do not believe all you hear, do not say all you know, do not do all you would like," "Always hope, never fear," "Important to despise the past, well and maturely to contemplate the future, well to arrange the present, and thus a peaceful life is spent," "I await fortune according to my idea," "Heart seeks heart everywhere," "Wisdom govern, peace reign, love dwell, labor act, honor grace." — Philadelphia Record.
An English Journal Says That They Are a Delusion and a Snare.
Vegetarians will resent the imputations contained in a late issue of the Pall Mall Gazette in regard to a purely leguminous dinner recently given in England. It was a private dinner offered in the inner sanctuary of a home and was a genuine tribute to the resources of the vegetable world. The meal consisted of 20 courses, each in its way pronounced perfect, from the purees of tomato, the ragouts of mushroom, the lettuce and asparagus to the finest fruits of the country.
The Gazette asserts that vegetables are perfidious and criminal when they attempt to satisfy; that they can only fill, and that a people fed upon them might grow fat, but so in proportion would they become flabby and feeble. It apostrophizes pig as food upon which to feed wrestlers and all who work hard and exercise with violence and declares that meat is needed to prepare weak and strong alike to fight the battle of life.
They Leave Devastation and Death In Their Wake When on the Rampage.
The complete history of rogue elephants would make an interesting chapter. They seem to have decided to avenge man's wrongs against their kind. Some years ago one rogue actually took possession of a stretch of country in India 40 miles wide by 100 long and in a businesslike way proceeded to demolish everything in or about it. The animal rushed into the villages, took huts upon its tusks and tore them apart or tossed them until they fell in splinters. It chased the people away or killed them whenever it could, or, standing by the wrecked houses, it ate the grains and stores.
This elephant seemed remarkably intelligent. It entertained, in particular, a grudge against the watch towers or scaffolds. Whenever this rogue saw one, be would creep slyly, spring at it, push it to the ground and kill its occupants.
A famous rogue elephant named Mandla was owned by a rich man near Jubbulpoor, in central India. Suddenly it began to develop the characteristics of a "rogue" and attacked human beings wherever seen. It killed them so cruelly that it became widely known as "the man eater." He was finally destroyed by an organized effort of English army officers.
Another famous rogue took possession of a public road and attacked every passerby. Suddenly darting from the jungle, it would rush up to an ox cart, seize the driver with its trunk and disappear. Repeated raids of this kind so terrified the people that a large tract of land was to all intents and purposes deserted, but finally an English hunter determined to rid the country of the rogue. By careful inquiry he found that the elephant always seized the driver, and if there were two carts in company it chose the driver of the last. So he arranged two ox carts, putting a dummy driver upon the second, while upon the first was a stout bamboo cage, in which the hunter was to sit, rifle in hand. When all was ready, the two ox carts started one day, followed by the hopes and best wishes of the community.
The fatal district was soon reached, and about half way down the road there came a crash, and the monstrous elephant, dark and ugly, dashed upon the party. Making directly for the last cart, with a vicious swing of its trunk it seized on the dummy man and made off, receiving as it went a shot from the cage. But the oxen, alarmed by the uproar, ran away, leaving the road and taking to the open country. They tipped the cart over, nearly killing the caged driver and the English sportsman. What the elephant thought when it tore the dummy into shreds must be imagined. Some months later, however, this rogue was driven away and caught. — C. F. Holder in St. Nicholas.
An old couple took a son home to live with them and deeded to him the property. The young man's wife brought from Massachusetts a head full of notions as to style in house decoration and had the inner doors taken off all through the house and turkey red portieres hung all over the premises. The old folks looked on in wonder at first, and then the change in their home surroundings amazed them so they began to weep. After about three months of this crying the young man concluded that his wife's decorative ideas would kill the old folks, so he deeded back the farm and went his way. The portieres did it, for I could never learn of any other cause for complaint. — Lewiston Journal.
"Won't you have another piece of pie, Mr. Claverly?" asked Tommy.
"Thank you, Tommy," replied Mr. Claverly, "it's very kind of you."
y "Oh, that's all right!" returned Tommy, with energy. "I'm a-lookin out for myself too. Ma said if it was necessary to cut another pie I could have two pieces." — Harlem Life.
Osawatomie, the name of a Kansas town, is said to be compounded of the names of two rivers, the Osago and Pottawatomie.
A hippopotamus, brought from the Nile to Rome, by order of Titus, to celebrate the close of the Jewish war, cost $4,000.
The regulations for shaving observed in the bench and bar probably come down from Roman times, and the history of the custom among that people is a curious one. Pliny says that beards were universally cultivated as a matter of course till about 300 B. C., when Sicilian barbers, who probably acquired their art from Greece, first came to Rome, and Scipio Africanus set the fashion of shaving every day. Thenceforward it became so much the vogue in good society that the term barbaus, outlandish, was long supposed to mean bearded, in allusion to the unkempt hair of uncivilized nations. Increased accuracy in etymology has shown the real meaning to be akin to balbus, stammering, in allusion to their uncouth speech.
For three centuries barbers had it all their own way in Roman circles. Then came the Emperor Hadrian, who, as Plutarch affirms, grew his beard to hide some ugly scars, and forthwith it became the mode. Lawyers and priests, even more conservative in their observances than other folks, continued to shave; hence, it is supposed, came the traditional practice of the English bar, through the law courts of Italy and France. — Good Words.
An Immense and Formidable Reptile That Lives to a Great Age.
The late Mr. Bates in his 11 years spent in the Brazilian forests saw and heard more of the habits of the anaconda than most travelers, though, like other great serpents, the individuals of this species are so little common that their appearance in any one district is too infrequent to make a special study of their habits part of the day's work of a busy naturalist. Bates' first personal experience of the creature shows how impossible it is to avoid the python by the ordinary means of isolation sufficient to keep other dangerous creatures at a distance. He was at anchor, in a large boat, in deep water, in the port of Antonio Malagueita.
An anaconda swam out to the boat, lifted its head from the water, broke in the side of a fowlhouse on deck and carried off a couple of fowls. It was found that this snake had been stealing ducks and fowls from this part of the river for months, so a hunt was organized, miles of river bank were searched and the serpent at last found sunning itself in a muddy creek and killed. It was "not a large specimen, only 18 feet 9 inches long." But Mr. Bates measured skins of anacondas which were 21 feet in length and 2 feet in girth, and he adds: "There can be no doubt that this formidable serpent grows to an enormous bulk and lives to a great age, for I have heard of specimens having been killed which measured 42 feet in length, or double the size of the largest which I had the opportunity of examining." We must add a correction here. They were double the length, but the size of these great reptiles, like that of fish, increases enormously with every addition in longitudinal growth.
A snake of 20 feet in length would be probably four times the weight of one 10 feet long, and the bulk of a 40 foot anaconda would approach that of the largest crocodile. Since the publication of "The Naturalist's Voyage on the Amazons" an anaconda of 29 feet has been brought to the Natural History museum at South Kensington. A neighbor of Bates, in Brazil, nearly lost his 10-year-old son by the attack of an anaconda. He had left the boy in his boat while he went to gather fruit, and on his return found him encircled by the snake, whose jaws the father seized and actually tore them asunder. — Spectator.
A statistician in the employ of the German government has come to the rescue of those who do not share in the widespread superstition that Friday is the most "unlucky" day of the week. Three years ago this particular man of figures, and of great resources for accurate deductions, determined to make a scientific investigation of the Friday superstition. As a result of his exhaustive labors he has given the world a book of queer tables and figures, which proves that it is Monday, and not Friday, that is the most fatal or unfortunate day of the week.
A Recitation In Logic
"And now, Mr. Jones, will you please explain the theory of the sequence of ideas?"
"Sequence? Some call 'em 'straights.' That's where you have ace, king, que — er — that is, I sat up with a sick man last night, professor, and I'm shy on this — not prepared, I mean." — New York Recorder.
A professional philanthropist once circulated a subscription list to enable a poor woman to pay her house rent. He owned the house. — New Orleans Picayune.
One of the results that have naturally followed the practical extermination of the buffalo from the plains is a tremendous advance in the price of buffalo robes, which are so popular with all drivers who have to face the chilling blasts of winter. A few years ago these robes could be bought for from $5 to $10 apiece, according to quality, but they have now become so scarce that they bring anywhere from $50 to $100. Even old ones bring good prices from the farmers who appreciate the warmth of the thick hide. Doubtless in the years to come the prices will continue to advance, and finally the robes will disappear altogether and be no longer obtainable at any price. — Philadelphia Record.
Hardly a week passed in which I did not dine with him and Mrs. Disraeli. His dinners were small, not overgood, but always gay and amusing — not that he was himself at all brilliant in conversation. On the contrary, he was generally silent unless there was an opening for some epigrammatic or paradoxical or startling observation. Though bitterly sarcastic if it suited his purpose, he was far from being cynical from nature. On the contrary, he was remarkably placable, and, though he had few strong dislikes, he had many strong friendships.
Disraeli was eminently Bohemian, imaginative, without a particle of belief in anything, totally unprincipled — I do not use the word in an offensive sense, but as being devoid of all principles of policy. That he was a man of immense talent not even his greatest enemy can deny, but even I, his personal friend, must confess that from his entrance into public life until his last hour he lived and died a charlatan. — "Autobiography of Sir William Gregory."
Two players on each side have to play alternately with one ball. One village has ball No. 1 and the other ball No. 2. Those balls are 2 inches in diameter and in weight are 1¼ pounds. The material is of hard wood root, and lead is poured into six holes, of which every two face each other. This lead makes the ball a first class missile, and the smooth surface of the hard wood lets it quit the fingers easily when the throw is made. Now, what is the object of this throwing? It is simply to get as far as possible down the appointed course. You have to walk for an hour at least and back again. He who can cover the distance with fewest throws wins.
I would like to see a good English cricket ball thrower contend at this game with these Germans. In each case a man who can throw 100 yards is a very good thrower. The Germans, in throwing, go through an amount of acrobatic contortion and leaping that I have never seen practiced at baseball or cricket ball throwing. But the Germans are very accurate. One great point with them is to cast the missile so that it shall continue after touching the ground to go on. The ball, therefore, should be thrown as low as possible, so that it may have force to bound and roll onward when it alights. — Good Words.
How Trainmen on City and Suburban Lines Help Out Their Monthly Salaries.
Owing no doubt to the large and open handed style of living which characterizes the American, there is very little regular traffic in secondhand magazines in this country and practically none in secondhand newspapers so far as the general public is concerned. In England a great many people are regular subscribers to secondhand papers, and the business is so important that one concern finds it sufficiently profitable to quote its prices for "read" copies of the leading London dailies at considerable length in The Times.
In Chicago, although nobody is willing to wait a few hours for his news in order to save a few cents, the business of selling secondhand newspapers is carried on pretty extensively, owing to the exchange privilege allowed by the papers to railroad news agents and to the newsboys. The brakemen on the suburban trains, the guards on the elevated roads and the conductors on the street cars gather up the castoff papers on their trains at the end of every run. The street railway conductor, as a rule, has no market for his papers, and after giving the gripmen and the men in the barn all they want to While away idle moments he destroys the rest, but the men on the suburban trains and the elevated roads dispose of their surplus to the news agents on the trains in the case of the suburban roads and at the stations in case of the elevated. For a 2 cent paper the agent pays 1 cent, and for the 1 cent papers 15 cents for 50. If the news agent gets them early in the day, he can resell many of them. If there is some big piece of news in the market, he has no trouble in disposing of all he can get up till noon. Those he doesn't sell he can exchange within 24 hours for new ones of the next issue, so that he cannot lose by the transaction, no matter what the condition of the market may be.
This extra money, if the paper collector is lucky, amounts to several dollars in the course of the month. One of the curiosities of the business is the fact that the conditions which make business lively for the news agent make it dull for the paper collector and vice versa. If the weather is stormy, more papers are sold by the agent, because people expect to be kept indoors more and to have fewer interruptions from visitors, but for the same reason they are less apt to leave their papers in the car seat. During a cold snap the trainmen have rather slim picking comparatively, and the same thing is true on rainy and stormy days in the summer. — Chicago Tribune.
Figures on the light and heat of the sun are the most startling that can possibly be presented. The astronomers measure the amount of heat and light emitted by the sun by estimating that the earth intercepts about the two billion three hundred millionth part of it. Thus it is found that in every second of time the sun emits as much heat as would result from the sudden combustion of 11,600,000,000,000 tons of pure coal! It may be interesting to the reader to know that each portion of the sun's surface as large as this earth emits as much heat per second as would result from the combustion of 1,000,000,000 tons of the best anthracite fuel. — St. Louis Republic.
An Awkward Compliment
Lady — The feet of your women are compressed!
Japanese Attache — Beg your pardon, madame, that is a Chinese custom. As for ourselves, we allow the feet of our women to attain their natural dimensions without for a moment pretending that they can come up to the size of yours, madame. — Progres Illustre.
The fixed Christian. feasts are All Saints, Nov. 1; All Souls, Nov. 2; Candlemas, Feb. 2; Christmas, Dec. 25; Circumcision, Jan. 1; Epiphany, Jan. 6; Innocents, Dec. 28.
There is no evidence that papyrus was grown for commercial purposes outside of Egypt during the whole Roman period, and the industry of its growth and manufacture must have been a large and profitable one. In the time of Tiberius a sedition was nearly caused by a scarcity of paper, and a rebellious paper maker, in the days of Aurelian, boasted that he could equip an army from the profits of his business — and did it too.
Parchment was invented by the Greeks when papyrus was scarce, and the middle ages reinvented it. There is evidence that linen rags were used in paper making as early as the eighth and ninth centuries. In paper of that period the fiber was chiefly linen, with traces of cotton, hemp and other fibers. The known specimens are of oriental origin and appear to have been clayed, like modern papers, the material used being a starch paste manufactured from wheat.
The oldest manuscript written on cotton paper in England is in the British museum and dates from 1049 A. D., and the oldest on the same material in the Paris National library is dated 1050. In 1085 the Christian successors of the Spanish Saracens made paper of rags instead of raw cotton, which had been formerly employed. — All the Year Round.
Horace Greeley's Request of a Proofreader, Who Was of Course Right.
Greeley, as is well known, was a crank on election figures and knew exactly how every county and town in the state was in the habit of going. A slight change in favor of his own party would fill him with satisfaction. One day he came into the office overjoyed that the Republicans had carried Westchester county in a local election. As usual, he wrote an editorial and put a comparative table, compiled from The Tribune almanac, in the middle of the article. When the paper came out next day, the figures were misplaced, The Republican vote appeared in the Democratic column, and vice versa, so that the comments did not at all fit the case stated. Mr. Greeley came clown in a towering rage, and in a whirlwind of profanity demanded of the subordinate in charge whether there was a proofreader on the paper and whether anybody in the office had a grain of sense.
"Why, yes. Mr. Greeley. You know old man So-and-so is the proofreader and has been for years. But what is the matter?"
"Matter? Blankety, blank, blank! Matter! Why, some blankety, blank blank has gone to work and changed the figures in that Westchester article so as to make the blankest nonsense out of it!"
"I don't think anybody would have ventured to change your figures, Mr. Greeley. Don't you think you had better look at the copy before pitching into the proofreader? You know he is very careful."
"I'll do nothing of the kind," said the old man as he shuffled upstairs. "I'll kick him out of the composing room. I won't be made a fool in this way."
Up stairs there was a scene very like that below, with the variation that Greeley told the proofreader that he ought to be kicked from one end of the composing room to the other. With the proverbial placidity of proofreaders and their provoking readiness for such emergencies, the man assailed quietly went to the hook, and taking therefrom Greeley's own copy held it under his eyes, with the single remark, "Read that, sir."
Greeley did read it. There was silence for a moment, and then his face assumed a look of mingled contempt and disgust. Then he turned around, with his back to the proofreader, lifted his coattails and said loud enough to be heard all over the room:
"Here, Sam, kick me and kick me till I holler!" — New York Mail and Express.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Professor Renk, who is engaged in making some interesting experiments on the vitality of the comma bacilli, the so called "microbe of cholera," has found that they will live for some time and exhibit all their usual liveliness in a temperature 10 degrees colder than freezing.
A single "culture" of these germs in a bowl of beef broth, reduced to a temperature of from 5 to 7 degrees below the zero of the centigrade thermometer, which is about the same as 20 to 23 above the zero mark of the Fahrenheit instrument, were unusually lively at the end of 100 hours' exposure.
He found, however, that as they were uninterruptedly exposed to such a degree of cold for a longer period than that mentioned above they gradually lost vitality and at the end of five days were perfectly lifeless and utterly unable to do damage should they be taken into the human system. — St. Louis Republic.
A Sight at Night
Smythe — Too bad Miss Brown's so awfully nearsighted, isn't it, Chawles?
Chumley — Y-a-as, me boy.
Smythe — Why, d'ye know, I've been told she weahs her glasses to bed.
Chumley — How's that, Haw-wy?
Smythe — So's she can wecognize the people she meets in her dweams. — Philadelphia Times.
A big, burly looking fellow, a picture of health and strength, walked into the office of a prominent accident insurance company the other day and applied for a policy.
"Certainly," said the secretary. "Are you engaged in any hazardous business?"
"Not in the least," replied the applicant.
"Does your business make it necessary for you to handle loaded firearms or weapons of any kind?"
"Would your business ever require you to be where there were excited crowds — for instance, at a riot or a fire?"
"Is your business such as to render you liable to street cars or runaway horses?" "No, sir."
"Does your business throw you in contact with the criminal classes?"
"Very rarely indeed, sir."
"I guess you are eligible. What is your business?"
"I am a policeman." — New York Dispatch.
A Pamphlet Printed In 1830 Describes What Was Then a Wonder.
A curious relic has been found recently in the shape of a pamphlet describing the Tremont House, probably the only copy in existence, which was published in 1830 by Gray & Bowen of Boston.
It contains 94 pages and is finely illustrated, 74 pages being devoted to cuts and plates. Excavation was begun in June, 1828, by a company incorporated by the legislature in 1824-5, and on the July 4th following the cornerstone was laid by the Massachusetts Charitable association. The building was completed in August, 1820, and opened in October.
The dining room was heated from two open fireplaces and was regarded as a very fine apartment in those days. The reading room was free to guests, but a small annual subscription was required from others.
Rainwater was used in the kitchen from a reservoir in the yard, and a well was also drawn upon in the belief that it was inexhaustible. A cistern was placed in Tremont place, another in the cellar and two in the attic. Lead pipes were used and at that time were considered wonderful, as was also the use of mortar in the flooring.
It was considered to be extremely well guarded against fire, and the staircases were thought so wide that inmates could easily escape by them, no matter how rapid the conflagration might be.
The doric portico and stained glass skylight were the two features in which the greatest pride was taken, and the description closes by saying that up to the time of writing the patronage received by the house warranted the belief that it would be beneficial as well as ornamental to the city.
The book is valued at $100. It was published "to satisfy a curiosity which numerous inquiries for a description of the Tremont House were supposed to indicate." — Boston Globe.
Holland the Country Where All the World Skates When There Is Ice.
Holland is the paradise of skaters. In that odd country, "where up trains run on the down line and the cows are tied to the ceiling by their tails," a great many things go by contraries, and skating is one of them. The weary waiting for a black frost to solidify the waters of deep lakes and treacherous ponds, which in England tantalizes the possessor of "Acmes," prevents his sleeping o' nights and drives skatemakers to suicide, is to the Dutchman an unknown mortification.
Skating is indeed almost the only violent exercise for which the Dutchman has any liking, and in the winter he holds high carnival on the ice. The number of skating clubs between northern Brabant and Groningen is infinite, but it is the provinces north of the Zuyder Zee — Friesland and Groningen — that the best skaters are to be found. These are the classical training grounds of the Dutch ice artists.
When there is likelihood of a frost, the only thing necessary to secure a good "surface" is to open the sluices used for irrigation and inundate the great flat meadows. The operation is superintended by representatives of the skating clubs in the neighborhood. A place of some 6,000 or 8,000 feet in circumference is staked out around a given point, the water is allowed to float in until it is of a convenient depth, and the sluices are then closed. Directly when the ice is sufficiently thick a number of workmen are told to keep it clear of snow, should any fall, and to sweep it carefully at frequent intervals.
Then begin a succession of skating competitions. These competitions are got up by the local skating club. Sometimes they are international, but clubs and individuals are constantly competing among themselves. The prizes offered on these occasions are often of a considerable money value, and the funds for providing them are supplied by the small sum charged for admission to the skating ground and the entrance fees paid by the competitors.
The competitions are usually of three classes — swiftness, elegance and the clearing of obstacles. The latter is amazingly difficult, even to experts. Yet there are in Holland a large number of skaters who can with ease and grace clear, in full career, the straw covered spaces intended to represent natural obstacles upon the ice. — London Standard.
The different species of ants are pretty generally distributed over the globe, and on this account the naturalists infer that there is work for them to do in the great economy of the universe. In each colony males, females, neuters and sometimes soldiers are to be recognized. The males are invariably smaller than the females, and, like those of the feminine gender, have wings in their original state. The neuters, which are the workers, are without wings in any of their transformations, and the soldiers are recognized by the armor plates on their heads. — St. Louis Republic.
The Moslems have two festivals of special importance, the Greater Bairam and the Lesser Bairam. The former is in memory of Abraham offering his son Isaac and lasts four days.
The first pins brought to England were made in Spain. They weighed about a quarter of a pound and cost a little over $1.
The sparrow has several characteristics that are altogether admirable. Very few of the creatures who navigate the air or walk upon the ground show greater capacity or willingness to take care of themselves. The sparrow, like the despised rat, has no little merit as a tiny scavenger, and, like the rat, where man goes he follows.
It is safe to say nothing has been made in vain. Even those creatures which are esteemed by man as vermin have their place and their use in the wise order of Providence. This is none the less true because we cannot penetrate the wisdom of creation. Despite the persecution of his enemies and the vagaries of the weather, it will be observed that the sparrow flourishes. The merciful men and women who look after the vagrant birds and dogs and other creatures who mutely appeal to human sympathy will not go without their reward. — Philadelphia Record.
How the Two Great Musicians Were Brought Together In London.
"My impression of Joachim as having the worst hat in London had its pendant," writes a correspondent, "in my recollection of Rubinstein as having the thickest boots. No musician was ever less of an exquisite. He had no affectations. He wore black broadcloth with a nap on it of the kind that parsons used 60 years ago and a soft felt hat, and, notwithstanding this prosaic setting, looked like a Japanese Beethoven — like a Beethoven that had fallen off the side of a teacup.
"He had not, I fancy, much humor, but he had great good nature, and once I saw it tested. It was during his second visit here, when all London was mad over him, and there was something like a Paderewski fever prevalent, and they were fortunate who could hear him play in private. At this party all musical London was assembled, and he was one of the first guests asked to play. Every one knows how excited he used to get over the piano and how fond he was when his work was over of the solace of a cigar. So this night he withdrew from the instrument with his host, and the grateful fragrance of a weed asserted itself from the little anteroom, whose door was discreetly closed.
In due time the hostess had to call on another guest, and there was some interest to see who could succeed Rubinstein.
"She asked Mr. Corney Grain. She was almost a bride, new to the ways of London life, but it was often afterward pointed out as evidence of her savoir faire that she should have called on the one musician in the room whose absolute opposition of style made rivalry impossible. I remember Corney Grain sang something about
"Meet me when the lark's asleep,
Ere Flora fills her dewy cup,
When festive beetles homeward creep
Before the early morn is up.
"He was sitting with his back to the door, a back even then of commanding proportions, and gradually the fragrance of that cigar became more and more in evidence. The door opened first a little, then a little more, then completely, and at last Rubinstein glided out, with Felix Moscheles by his side, and stood near the piano delighted with what he listened to. The artists were introduced. I remember the evening as well as if it were last night. It was the more memorable because that night he did not break a string." — Pall Mall Budget.
The Only Safe Way Is to First Catch Your Bear, Then Cut His Throat.
"The only safe way to kill a grizzly bear is to cut his throat," said an old forty-niner who has come back to Louisville to end his days. "I learned this when I took that trip from Sacramento to Lower California with a herd of cattle and only a greaser and myself to drive 'em.
"We had been out for three days. On the morning of the third day, just about dawn, we were awakened by the bellowing of frightened cattle. We expected a stampede, and both of us jumped to our feet and on our horses. Then we began to ride around the cattle to keep them from breaking and running. It didn't take us long to discover the cause of the cattle's fright. About 300 yards distant was a big grizzly with his head down making for our camp. The Mexican saw him the same time I did.
"I unslung my gun and held it in readiness to shoot as soon as bruin was in range. The Mexican held up his hand warningly and yelled, 'Wait!' He took his lasso off the horn of his saddle, and digging his spurs into the sides of his pony rode down upon the bear as fast as he could go. He passed the bear, and when 15 feet behind him wheeled his horse. Then, whirling his lasso about his head, he let fly at the running bear. The lasso settled nicely over one of the lifted feet. The trained pony lifted himself on his haunches, and the lasso tightened his grip on the bear's leg. This angered the bear, and he turned with a growl and started directly toward the Mexican, who rode toward a little clump of trees just north of the camp. He kept drawing in the lasso and expected to tighten it and drag the bear, but bruin was fast upon his feet and kept in easy distance of the greaser.
"The horseman rode behind one of the trees and jumped from his horse. Bruin started after him and reached around the tree to get him. The wily greaser began to jump about from side to side of the tree, with the bear always following, but never getting any closer than just opposite. The result was that bruin was finally wrapped tightly about with the lasso and was tied to the tree. When the greaser got the bear in this position, he held on to the end of the lasso in his hand, and showing his teeth in a broad grin looked at me. Reaching down into his greasy sash, he pulled out a long, sharp knife and made one slash across the bear's throat. That did him." — Louisville Courier-Journal.
To sum all up, poetry is not a skill, a pleasantry, a device, an art. It is the secret life and light without which not anything was made that is made, writes Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney in The Ladies' Home Journal. It is the sacredness of being. In it there are those three: Sense, soul, spirit — nature, life, revelation. Such is the trinity of inspiration. A perfect poem is natural, human and divine.
A very ceremonious Spaniard, when asked why he was not present at the funeral of a certain personage, replied:
"Because he owed me a call." — Humor of Spain.
Helmets recovered from Pompeii are of iron and generally very plain. They were not made for show, but for use.
Passaic, N. J., has an Indian name meaning the valley.
The blue-bird is hailed as a harbinger of spring. It is also a reminder that a blood purifier is needed to prepare the system for the debiliating weather to come. Listen and you will hear the birds singing: "Take Ayer's Sarsaparilla in March, April, May."
Five thousand dollars in a country town is affluence if the beneficiary is content to stay there, but in a city the family man with only that income, provided he is ambitious, can only just live and might fairly be described as the cousin-german to a mendicant, and yet there are some worthy citizens still who would doubtless be aghast at these statements and would wish to know how one is to spend $6,000 a year without extravagance. — Scribner's Monthly.
Note: "cousin-german" means first cousin, here the sense being "the next thing" or "essentially."
Death valley, in southern California, was formerly a lake of mineral water, and its dried up bed is now covered with a crust of salt, soda and borax to a depth of from six inches to three feet.
One of the questions discussed before the Paris Academy of Medicine was, Should consumptives and other persons be encouraged to keep dogs? Dr. Megnin, formerly a veterinary surgeon in the army, sent in a paper to show they should not. The dog is just as liable as his master to be infected by tuberculosis and to spread it. Dr. Megnin had under his care many canine consumptives. They were of the lapdog species, and it is said caught the malady from their masters or mistresses.
Dogs, said Dr. Megnin, were liable to many sorts of septicaemia and to scurvy. The dog, so teachable, was not given any education of the palate, but was allowed to eat infectious garbage and nameless filth. This alone would account for its liability to rabies. The dog, by intelligent care in its breeding, education and hygiene, might be made the paragon of four footed beings and the worthy friend and auxiliary of intelligent human beings. Dogs reflected the moral qualities and the vices of their masters. Wherever manners were mild dogs ceased to be ferocious. In conclusion, the author of the paper proposed the foundation of a chair for canine anatomy and diseases. — London News.
An Instrument Which Reveals the Innermost Recesses of the Living Eye.
To the oculist Professor von Helmholtz gave the ophthalmoscope, and thus made it possible to investigate the conditions of the inmost recesses of the living eye. If the eye be illuminated, a portion of the light returns from the hinder surface, is brought to a focus by the lenses of the eye itself and forms an image of the retina in the external space. To see this was no easy matter. If the patient's eye were focused on a luminous object, the image would coincide with the source of light, and even if otherwise visible would be lost in the glare. If he looked elsewhere, the image would move, but inasmuch as the lenses cannot be adjusted to the clear vision of any object nearer than about ten inches that is the minimum distance from the eye at which it can form the image of its own retina. To see this clearly an observer without appliances must place himself at least ten inches from the image — that is, at 20 inches from the patient. At that distance the view would be so limited that no result could be obtained.
Von Helmholtz, however, convinced himself that if these difficulties could be overcome the image of a brightly illuminated retina could be seen. He made the observations through a small hole in the center of a mirror, which reflected light into the eye under examination. Then by means of a lens he shifted the position of the image backward until the relative positions of the observer and the patient were such that, according to calculation, the retina should be visible.
Again and again he tried and failed, but was convinced of the validity of the theory, and at last the experiment succeeded. From that time the oculist has been able to look into the darkness of the pupil and to see through the gloom the point of entry of the optic nerve and the delicate network of blood vessels by which it is surrounded. — Fortnightly Review.
Outing says that at first the Chinese were very bitter against the telegraph, as it was reported the foreigners cut out the tongues of children and suspended them on the insulators to transmit the message from pole to pole. Then, again, the wires disturbed the graves of the "Fingshin," the spirit of wind and water. The telegraph instruments used are mostly of London make. The system of telegraphing in Chinese is very simple. There are about 8,000 characters in the Chinese language. These are all numbered from 1 up and so printed in book form. It is therefore only necessary to telegraph the numbers. This system is used in the government dispatches.
Not a Free Fight
Dinks — The morning paper says the caucus ended in a free fight. Is that correct?
Danks — Not by a blamed sight. Every man in it had to ante up with $10 and costs. — Buffalo Courier.
New York, 1895
The Long Island City police are trying to run down a band of petty burglars who have been operating in the Hunter's Point section of the city for the past two weeks. The latest work of the gang was early Sunday morning, when James Hicks's saloon, on Jackson avenue, was broken into and sixteen bottles of brandy carried off. Patrick Sheehan's saloon was also broken into, and the cash register, containing $4 in change, rifled.
Fire At Whitestone
Payne's large carpenter shop was burned at Whitestone Friday morning. The building was valued at $1,000. Hansom Whitmore's dwelling-house, close to the shop caught fire and though the frame is standing, is a total wreck. It was valued at $2,000, and insured for $1,000.
Burned Out the Cigarmaker
The residence of Joseph Thunia, a cigarmaker at Bohemia, near Sayville, was destroyed by fire early Friday morning. The family were forced to leave hurriedly in their nightclothes, saving nothing.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
New York, 1895
Edward Sands, a bayman of Roslyn, narrowly escaped drowning in Hempstead harbor Friday afternoon. Sands was engaged in spearing for eels through a hole in the ice, when he fell into the water. When he endeavored to pull himself out of the hole the ice crumbled. The man fought desperately and was nearly overcome by the cold when three men who had witnessed his struggles arrived on the scene and pulled him out by means of a rope.
Threw Stones at Trains
Edward Hicks, aged 17 years, who was arrested at Wantagh on Tuesday evening, charged with throwing stones at Long Island railroad trains, was held for examination by Justice Seaman. For several months trains passing the wood, near Bellmore have been stoned, and it was a common occurrence for stones as large as eggs to crash through a car window.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
New York, 1895
Officers of Roslyn are looking for the members of the "Kettle Gang," who have recently entered a number of houses and committed petty thefts. The gang broke into the store of John F. Remsen and stole a barrel of cider and then walked into the butcher shop of A. Craft and threatened to clean out the place. They were set upon by a young clerk and thrashed.
The School War in Woodsburgh
The agitation of the proposition to establish a union free district school in Woodsburgh is likely to result in several slander suits. At the meeting held on Saturday night to vote on the question the citizens called each other forgers, liars and thieves.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
New York, 1895
Miss Buckley Hurls a Stone at the Head of Player Twomey.
During the last half of the game of Gaelic football between the Shamrocks and Kickhams, at Wallace's Ridgewood park, Sunday afternoon, Miss Buckley, sister of Pat Buckley, captain of the Kickhams, picked up a heavy stone and threw it straight at the head of Twomey, one of the left wings of the Kickhams. Twomey saw the stone coming and ducked in time.
Shortly afterward several players of both teams began fighting. It was claimed that unfair methods were being used. A number of the Kickhams and Shamrocks were hurt and a free-for-all battle ensued. Field Umpire Maher was so severely punished that he will have to stay indoors at least a week. Maher is not certain as to who attacked him. He believes that there must have been at least a dozen persons who hit him. McIlroy, one of the Kickhams, was also badly hurt, His face was cut, nose broken, and his lips puffed up. He presented a sorry sight. He says that McMahon of the Shamrocks hit him. Several other players of the Kickhams were also injured.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
Note: Original says, "picked up a heavy stone and through it..."
New York, 1895
The Chub Club Visits a Famous New York Resort.
The Chub Club, with a number of invited guests, on Wednesday evening visited the world renowned establishment of "Beefsteak John" in New York, where they indulged in one of the beefsteak dinners for which this resort is noted. A member of the party describes this unique affair as a most enjoyable one.
The ceremony of cooking and eating the beefsteak takes place in a carpenter shop, the divers being seated on stools, boxes, nail kegs, or whatever may be handy. No tables, crockery or cutlery are used, the steak being eaten from the hand. The proprietor, a man over 80 years of age, cooks the steaks in a stove made in 1785, over a fire of hickory wood, the juicy slices being laid on small pieces of bread and passed around, the guests being provided with large towels to prevent soiling their clothing. Celery and radishes are served in tin pans or pails and "brown October ale" in mugs or cups. The steak is most delicious and as tender as chicken.
Henry Miller, the aged proprietor, has often visited Jamaica in years gone by, and on Wednesday evening related some of his experiences here, particularly some reminiscences of "Cale" Weekes. Upon the register of guests appear the names of celebrated judges, actors, statesmen, and writers, many of whom have attested their enjoyment of the feasts they attended.
It is reported that a member of the Chub Club took copious notes of the proceedings and will re-produce the dinner with new and interesting features in the near future.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
New York, 1895
Charles Ruland of Islip was sent to the county jail for sixty days by Justice Griffith Saturday, for appropriating to his own use a wagon belonging to Abrew Bros. Ruland borrowed the wagon and drove across the island. Getting short of cash he sold the wagon.
Boyling's Wife is Missing
Letter Carrier Robert H. Boyling, of Long Island City, on Monday. asked the police to help him find his wife, Kate, who he said had deserted him and his four little children, the youngest only seven months old. Boyling said his wife had been missing since February 14.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
New York, 1895
ABANDONED HIS WIFE FOR A SERVANT GIRL'S LOVE.
Mrs. Muhlenberg of Queens Got $12,000 for Living Expenses and Later $5,000 for Signing a Deed — Assemblyman Vacheron Seeking to Make Divorce Easy.
Justice Gaynor heard a queer divorce case in Long Island City Monday. The case was that of Dorothea F. E. Muhlenberg against George F. W. Muhlenberg.
During the trial defendant admitted his guilt, but said his wife consented. The couple were married in Germany June 13, 1859. On June 13, 1881, the anniversary of the marriage, he told his wife that he was tired of her. Then he settled $12,000 upon her, and went to live with Louise Speith, a servant girl. Up to 1889 he ate at his wife's house, and then he left her entirely. The plaintiff moved to Queens.
When Justice Gaynor asked the defendant if he had left his wife the witness replied that he had, but that she was willing. He explained that he had given her $3,000 since they parted. Mrs. Muhlenberg testified that the $3,000 which she received from her husband Was from the sale of a house in New York. The defendant had sold the house and the servant had signed the deed. When the purchaser discovered the fact he threatened to have Muhlenberg arrested. She signed the deed after she secured one-half of the purchase price.
Justice Gaynor reserved his decision.
Assemblyman Vacheron is a Frenchman. His loose ideas of marriage are exposed editorially by the New York Sun:
"Under the existing law of the state of York, marital infidelity is the only ground for absolute divorce. An effort to change the law, and to permit voluntary divorce under certain circumstances, is now on foot in the legislature, through a bill introduced in the Assembly by Mr. Eugene F. Vacheron of Queens county. The introduction is stated to be "by request," but whose request is not disclosed.
"This measure provides, in substance, that where a husband and wife have been so alienated and estranged from each other as to have lived apart for a continuous period of fifteen years, a divorce may be granted 'in case the husband and wife each voluntarily ask therefor, provided there be no minor children living from their wedlock.'
"Such a law would mean nothing more or less than the introduction of a system of voluntary divorce into our jurisprudence.
"In a few years the period of estrangement necessary as the foundation for such a divorce would be shortened, and presently we should have a statute allowing the absolute dissolution of the marriage tie after a separation not more than one-fifth as long as that contemplated by Mr. Vacheron.
"We do not regard such a change as desirable. On the contrary, we are sure that most thoughtful people will agree with us in objecting most emphatically to any enactment of this kind.
"The Assembly Committee on Codes, to which the bill has been referred, should tear it up and throw it into the waste basket."
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 1.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Long Island's Poet Laureate Sees a Whitehouse Reception.
(From the Washington Post.)
Bloodgood H. Cutter, the Long Island farmer-poet — he says so himself — has given a description of a White House reception which should not be allowed to pass into oblivion. Almost everybody in Washington has, at one time or another, attended this particular function. Bloodgood H. Cutter, therefore, can throw no new light upon its character. But not everybody has seen it through a poet's eyes, caught its subtle meaning, and tracked its more momentous suggestions to their hiding places. Of course, the farmer-poet begins upon us gently:
To the President, reception went
In crowds outside the people stood,
For several hours some did wait,
The rich and poor, the bad and good.
O what a trial it was then
To stand so long out in the cold,
And then the pressure was so great
Quite dang'rous to the young and old.
Quite ordinary persons would have seen things much this way — counted the hours in the same commonplace spirit and calculated the chances on pink-eye or influenza just as Bloodgood Cutter did. In the next verse, however, we leave the beaten track and wander among the daisies and the violets of thought —
We tried there to each other cheer
In a mild and pleasing way,
Some did verses and their lines recite
In many ways each had their say.
Next, in a rush and whirl of rhetoric unknown to Jenkins and his tribe, we effect an entrance —
About nine the policeman came
To get ready to open the door,
After a while they did it ope
And began the rush and roar.
It was very dangerous then,
When the crowd outside 'gainst us did push
I had hard work to free myself
Or 'gainst doorpost they would me crush.
The poet escaped, though, and once past the breakers and the rocks he floated pleasantly in tranquil waters —
Then as we near'd reception room
In single file through door did go
There President and lady stood
Both shook my hand as I went slow.
Then Bloodgood drew a good, long breath and looked about him. Then, with easy and flowing, but vivid touches, full of warmth and color, he immortalized the tableau —
Behind the grandee ladies stood
So richly clad in modern style,
To see so many necks all bare
Made some feel sad and others smile.
'Tis sad to think our ladies dear
In this way risk their precious lives;
Many in this way do catch cold
Depriving husbands of their wives.
About 10,000 said was there
On President that night did call,
It was indeed such a large crowd,
Could hardly get by them at all.
Through that large room I did pass through
Then with the crowd I gazed around,
Upon the nice paintings that were there
And other rare things that were found.
Why do not poets come oftener to these somewhat tedious celebrations, to beguile the hours of waiting with instructive discourse and to improve the opportunity for those who cannot attend in person? Why is not Bloodgood H. Cutter more numerous, more frequent, and more communicative?
New York, 1895
On Friday night the store of Edward Baldwin at Bayville was broken into and goods worth $15 stolen. On Saturday some of the goods were found under a barn near by Monday morning Officer Monilaws arrived with a search warrant. He went to the house occupied by Harry West to look for the goods. West waited until the officer got inside the house when he threw a lot of goods out of a window and afterward tossed them into an old well. The officer saw him and fished the goods out. West was arrested, charged with burglary.
Poor Overseers in Debt
The town of Newtown met on Friday. Town Clerk Robinson offered a resolution requesting the board of supervisors to authorize the supervisor of Newtown to borrow $5,500 for the purpose of paying that amount of bills now due to grocers and others for the support of the poor. Over $1,100 is due the Temporary Home for Children.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 2.
New York, 1895
The baymen at Jamesport have hit upon a profitable scheme for catching scallops when the boats are held at their moorings by the ice. The enterprise has proved most remunerative. Two or three of the baymen club together and cut a horse shoe shaped hole in the ice, about 150 feet across. They then draw their dredges through the space of open water. One man can easily draw a dredge over the bay bottom in this way and can catch from thirty to sixty bushels of scallops a day. Such a catch will average from fifteen to thirty gallons worth. In New York scallops bring $1.25 a gallon.
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 2.
New York, 1895
Two Views of the Way It Is Done in This County.
"A special deputy sheriff in Jamaica met six tramps on the corner of Washington and Fulton street, took them to a saloon, treated them to beer, bought them a pint of whisky, took them before a Justice of the Peace and had them committed to the county jail for 30 days each. Then one of the tramps treated."
The above information comes to THE FARMER in a communication from a citizen of the village.
The Brooklyn Eagle of Sunday, in a long article on the tramp abuse, had this characteristic bit of information relative to how the game is worked in Jamaica:
"There are several tramps who strike the place as soon as cold weather sets in. All of them know the constable and to make sure that he is still to be found they inquire with the familiarity of an old friend for his residence. One of these fellows I questioned and asked if he knew the constable. 'Oh, yes, I know him,' the fellow replied, 'he takes me down every year and takes care of my bank book while I am stopping with the sheriff.' The idea of a tramp having a bank account struck me as somewhat ludicrous, so I questioned the fellow as to his sincerity. He assured me that he was thoroughly in earnest; that he earned a few dollars extra during the warm weather and was putting it aside for future use."
(From Monday's New York Herald.)
"The constables of Queens county are paying a bounty for tramps. Every tramp they capture and take to prison represents fees to these officials of from $5 to $8, and they have hit upon the expedient of 'dividing commissions' with the tramps, the same as a life insurance agent allows his clients a rebate.
"Tramps who surrender get from $1.50 to $2.50 per head from the constable, who receives from $5 to $8 from the county and, of course, make a good thing out of it. During the summer the tramps do a little work now and then and save money, but in the winter there is nothing to be earned, and they want to be where it is warm. Then they begin negotiations through some middleman for their surrender to the constable who allows the highest scalp money."
—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, NY, March 1, 1895, p. 2.
Z. T. White, who is now or has very recently been a citizen of El Paso, Tex., was once the owner of the most wonderful entomological specimen ever found since the creation of the world — a live beetle found in a solid matrix of iron ore. The curiosity was discovered a considerable depth below the surface in the Longfellow mine, at Clifton, A. T., and fitted his iron sarcophagus as snugly as though the iron had been in a plastic state when it came in contact with the creature's body. The "bug" was of a dull, reddish gray color and was of course of a species wholly unknown to the entomologists. According to the El Paso Bullion, this wonder was presented to a well known scientific association of the Atlantic slope about two years ago. — St. Louis Republic.
The Cheerful Idiot
"One swallow doesn't make a spring," said the boarder who misquotes.
"A swallow of beer might," said the Cheerful Idiot.
And when the landlady guessed that it might make a spring on account of the hops in it the Cheerful Idiot got huffy and left the table before the prune pie was served. — Indianapolis Journal.
THE WORST OF ALL EVILS AND MOST DIFFICULT TO CONTROL.
Growth of the Habit Due In Great Measure to Self Deception — The Causes an Interesting Study — Liars Should Be Shut Up In Asylums as the Insane Are.
There is nothing in the power of the human being so bad as a lie. There is nothing that smirches character so bad as a lie. There is nothing that turns one so against himself as a lie. There is nothing that so destroys the confidence of our friends as a lie. There is no compensation possible for the evil of a lie. It eats back corrosively into yourself, and you cannot get back your soundness. It rarely ever even temporarily makes a profit, and I think in the end never.
The puzzle of puzzles is why some people lie so easily. They rarely undertake to be exact and yet do not recognize themselves as liars. It is their first impulse to avoid straightforwardness, and they plunge ahead in conversation, simply trying to get around point after point. It is a mistake and a misfortune to form such a habit. It grows on the victim, and it increases its power. In nine cases out of ten the simple facts would be easily told, and the telling more advantageous than either concealment or a falsehood, but the habit has been encouraged to misrepresent or conceal, and the whole mental nature exhausts its fertility in a purpose not to be open and honest. When this appears in a person of good ability, mild disposition and industry, it is lamentable.
The power of lying as a habit to grow is amazing. The reason probably is that the liar lies to himself as badly as he does to others — that is, he tries to believe he is truthful until he believes what he says is true, or at least is uncertain about it. I know one or two persons with whom you may say lying is a chronic disease. They talk on at entire random. Their whole life becomes a romance. They may occasionally touch bottom on a fact, but they do it by accident. They do not know it. It is simply because facts are so many as to get in their way. "What an unconscionable liar that creature is," said a friend. "She cannot tell the truth." I am not sure but we should have a new name for this sort of people. The fact is they have lost all sense of the true and the false, as they have of right and wrong. Louis Stevenson's novels are no more a piece of intellectual manufacture than are their everyday conversations. This is true not only of some of the lower class, but of an occasional person in the highest ranks of society. I know an eminent litterateur who is so snarled up among the creatures of his imagination that he cannot tell the real from the fictional. It is dangerous to be his friend, for he is liable to get you woven into a great web of his fancies, and then with all his might he believes you are guilty of absurdities or worse that were enacted only in his brain. he will swear to these "facts" with all sincerity. His life can never be restored to a basis of realities.
There should be hospitals for liars, or retreats, such as we provide for the insane when their cases become chronic and dangerous. They become dangerous to the community, quite as dangerous as forgers and shoplifters, and far worse for our own peace and happiness. If by accident you get one of these people into your household, you never will get the confusion rectified. East becomes west. Love is perverted into evil intent. Even facts fail to tell the truth. Everything is wrong end foremost. Half the suicides come from liars' tongues. The worst cases should be treated as insanity and mild cases sent to a hospital.
It would be an interesting study for an analytic mind to study the causes of lying and liars. It is in some cases no doubt a matter almost wholly of heredity. Mothers and fathers hand down moral traits more easily than they do intellectual. A mother should make it a law of her life to be sincere and undeviating. If not, she is sure to reap a sore punishment in and from her children. Practice a habit of living very open hearted. I do not mean prattling facts all the while, but with no chests locked against your beloved ones. An open heart is better than an open mouth.
I pity a really honest person who has tumbled herself hastily into a lie. The temptation came on suddenly, and before she was able to be quite self masterful she prevaricated. Now, to back out of a lie is like backing out of a slough of mud. You get out with mire on you. But is it any better to stay in the slough and wallow about? There is nothing gained, my friend, by sticking to a falsehood simply because you are ashamed to back out. Be as frank as your better nature suggests and get as quickly as possible on the line of absolute honor.
But there are other causes for the liar's character besides heredity. Society is not based on honor, but very largely on pretenses. The good half of social intercourse is offset by another half of deceit and insincerity. This, of course, is stamping itself on character. People cannot live lies and not be liars. The Quakers felt this social degradation and tried to correct it. Let your communication be yea, yea, nay, nay, for whatsoever is more than this cometh of evil. The Quakers, however, do sometimes lie, and all the worse because they have placed so much emphasis on the yea, yea, as better than yes, yes. But they do not make a mistake in insisting on the importance of words. Social flattery and much of social manners are a cover for lies. There is no truth in it. Are you a social liar? — Mary E. Spencer in St. Louis Globe-Democrat.