Dead A Million Years

1895

Priceless Bones From the Historic Waters of Bitter Creek

Men who once become interested in queer bugs and animals with which nature has peopled every part of the earth become so devoted to study of animal and plant life and so deeply interested in the bones of the man, woman or monkeys that lived and loved and died so many hundred thousand years ago that no personal sacrifice is too great for them to make in pursuit of their calling.

Prof. J. S. Worthman has just returned from the mountains of southern Wyoming, bringing with him the priceless treasure. It is the skeleton of a supposed human being dead some millions of years more or less, and may lead to the establishment of the missing link. The bones were found in the historic waters of Bitter Creek from which the fiery tempered cowboy is supposed to rise before spilling the blood of the towns-people in general. "The skeleton," says Prof. Worthman, "of a human body estimated to be a million and a half years old has interested scientists keenly. The Professor says the priceless skeleton was found near the head of Bitter Creek in Southern Wyoming, about ten miles from the Colorado line. The region was once the bed of a fresh water lake. Sediment gradually accumulated through unknown centuries until it formed a deposit two thousand to four thousand feet thick. The sage inhabitant whose remains are now disclosed to the eye of man was apparently drowned in the lake. His body was preserved as in an Egyptian mummy cave. By and by the water receded, new forces began to operate, mountain streams rippled across the dry lake bottoms, great chasms were out through the soft earth and the skeleton was exposed on the surface of a vast cliff.

The bones were broken in pieces and portions fell to the base of the cliff. Professor Worthman came along in the nick of time. His practiced eye detected the presence of an unusual specimen, but who can describe his joy as he stopped and picked up the tooth of a monkey? "The fragments of bones," said the Professor, "were many of them almost as small as a pin head and it required many hours of time and great patience to gather the pieces together until we could make one perfect whole. We gathered all the surface dirt over an area of twenty-five or thirty feet square and washed it out as the miner washes out the gravel for gold. Then we located the original resting place of the skeleton in the side of the cliff and dug out the remaining bones."

Length of the Skeleton

The Professor says he did not attempt to take complete measurements, but he estimates the skeleton to be two and a half feet long, forming an animal about the size and with the general make-up of a species of monkey, known as the white-faced capuchin. The Professor says some of the bones are missing, but the skull is complete, and it would be a simple thing for any paleontologist to draw a complete picture of the representative of the human race as he appeared long years ago.

Soon after his return to New York Professor Worthman will issue a pamphlet, giving a full scientific description of the skeleton and deductions to be drawn from the discovery. In this work he will be assisted by Prof. Osborne, curator of the museum and professor of biology in the college. Professor Worthman is a modest man and spoke guardedly of the conquest he has made over old Father Time, in grasping from the aged gentleman's hand one of the most sacredly guarded mysteries. In fact, the Professor talked just as enthusiastically about other finds that were made as about the skeleton of the monkey.

"Our object in coming to the west last summer," said he, "was to look for fossils which were deposited at the close of the cretaceous epoch, a period when the sea receded, the Rocky Mountain plateau arose and the fresh water lakes of the mountain region came gradually into existence. It was one of the greatest changes known in the geological history of the American continent.

"Another find," said the Professor, "and one in which the general public may be interested, was the skeleton of what is known as the little horse. This horse was the ancestor of the present species. It may perhaps surprise you if I say that this animal was no larger than a shepherd dog. Instead of a single toe, he had no less than four toes on each of his fore feet and three on his hind feet. The story of the evolution of the horse is one of the most convincing proofs of the doctrine of evolution. We now have materials to demonstrate to the most casual observer the evolution of this remarkable animal from his primitive beginning, away back in the commencement of the eocene period, at least 1,500,000 years ago, up to the present moment."

In An English Castle

1896

Betty asked if it was far to the gallery; and, finding that it was quite near the part of the house where they were, she went out with Pagot along the corridors with their long rows of doors, and into the musicians' gallery, where they found themselves at a delightful point of view. Danesly Castle had been built at different times; the banquet-hall itself was very old and stately, with a high, arched roof. There were beautiful old hangings and banners where the walls and roof met, and lower down were spread great tapestries. There was a huge fire blazing in the deep fireplace at the end, and screens before it; the long table twinkled with candle-light, and the gay company sat about it.

Betty looked first for papa, and saw him sitting beside Lady Dimdale, who was a great friend of his; then she looked for Lady Mary, who was at the end between the two gentlemen of whom Pagot had spoken. She was still dressed in black lace, but with many diamonds sparkling at her throat, and she looked as sweet and spirited and self-possessed as if there were no great entertainment after all. The men servants in their handsome livery moved quickly to and fro, as if they were actors in a play. The people at the table were talking and laughing, and the whole scene was so pleasant, so gay and friendly, that Betty wished, for almost the first time, that she were grown up and dining late, to hear all the delightful talk. She and Pagot were like swallows high under the eaves of the great room.

Papa looked really boyish, so many of the men were older than he. There were twenty at table; and Pagot said, as Betty counted, that many others were expected the next day. You could imagine the great festivals of an older time as you looked down from the gallery. In the gallery itself there were quaint little heavy wooden stools for the musicians; the harpers and fiddlers and pipers who had played for so many generations of gay dancers, for whom the same lights had flickered, and over whose heads the old hangings had waved. You felt as if you were looking down at the past. — St. Nicholas.

South Africa Not a Fairyland

1896

Robert Perry, a Chicago contractor, who has been spending two months in Johannesburg, South Africa, says:

"I want to warn Americans to keep away from that part of the world. There is nothing to go there for. The climate is unhealthful, living is exorbitantly high, and the people who are there are almost in a starving condition.

"Africans do all the work in the mines, which are all owned by Barnato and Rhodes. The place is a desert where scarcely anything grows, and there is a water famine most of the time. Every imaginable thing is taxed heavily. Even Pretoria's own paper has printed a warning to the world to keep away from the place. The people who have lived there ten, or fifteen years are away behind the times. When I told them about the motorcycle and the kinetoscope, they thought I was telling fairy tales, and would not believe me." — Detroit Free Press.

Parrot Stories

1896

There was an old factotum in our family who used to sew for us, and who occasionally spent several weeks at a time at the house. She was somewhat of a character, had been married three times, and to distinguish her second dear departed was in the habit of calling him "my middle husband;" old maids she naturally did not approve of, remarking that they were the only things not prayed for in the Litany. The old woman was very deaf, and much shouting was needed to make her hear. One day many vain efforts were made to induce her to do a piece of work in a particular way, but she could not or would not see what was wanted, and at last, in despair, the lady of the house remarked to the nurse, "Oh, never mind; when she is gone, it must be altered." "Ah," remarked the parrot, in a loud, clear voice, "there's no fool like an old fool."

The parrot had on one morning been given a bath, or in other words, the garden watering can had been turned upon him, and he was placed in front of the fire to dry. There were two small kittens who also liked the warmth of the fire, and who were sitting one on each side of the cage. The bird walked first to one side, and looking down out of the corner of his eye, inquired, "Are you a good boy?" Then he sidled across to the other end of his perch and said to the other kitten, "And are you a good boy?"

One day two children of our family visited the house, and when alone amused themselves by mischievously pulling up some tulips, which grew in a pot in the room, by the roots, afterwards carefully replacing them. A little later Polly's master, to whom the plants belonged, came into the room, and immediately exclaimed, "Oh, look at my tulips; see how they are growing." Polly at once uttered two words, and only two; they were, "You ass!" I need hardly say that some time elapsed before the owner of the tulips was made acquainted with all the particulars of what had happened. — Chambers's Journal.

A Glimpse of Longfellow

1896

In "A Glimpse of Longfellow," published in one of the magazines, Rev. Minot J. Savage calls him "the most widely read poet of the English-speaking world." This is approximately true, observes the New York World, and the cause for it is found in the poet's universal sympathy with the literature of all times and countries.

He is the most widely read poet of America because of all American poets he read most widely. The extent of his studies is astonishing. In his youth he went deep into the early literature of England, and added to the usual college acquaintance with the classics a knowledge of the Anglo-Saxon language and literature which did much to insure his success. He went from Saxon to the Scandinavian languages and to old Norse; then to old High German and from that to Italian, making a translation of Dante, which if lacking in the high poetic art of the original verse will always be respectable.

As a result of wide literary sympathies, he was able to appeal to the universal human nature. If he had something of natural provincialism in his youth, his maturity knew no boundary of section or country. His works have been translated into all the principal languages of Europe because by long labor he learned to understand the common humanity that underlies all differences of Nationality.

The central fact of his career was his great capacity for work. It made him the greatest of New England poets and one of the most useful men of his century.

Train Stories — Water Scoop Accident

1896

The accident to the water scoop on the New York Central's locomotive which prevented the Empire State express from making a record, says the New York Mail and Express, recalls the first experience of the officials of that road with that device.

General Manager Toucey and Superintendent of Motive Power Buchanan undertook to try the method, and the latter agreed to run the locomotive on the occasion of the test, while the former was to stand at a point where the water trough began, so as to enable the fireman to drop the scoop at the right time. Mr. Buchanan moved his engine along, and when that point of the track was reached abreast of Mr. Toucey the scoop was lowered. Instead of scooping up water the device tore up the ground and created a small-sized sensation among the onlooking officials. It was afterward discovered, on investigation, that the scoop worked all right, but that Mr. Toucey had inadvertently moved down the track and forgot to return to his assigned point. Mr. Buchanan subsequently tried the scoop again, but he took pains that it was dropped at the right time.

Another instance of a similar nature is recalled of an inquisitive yardmaster of an Eastern line who wanted to see how a water scoop worked and got on the blind end of a baggage car next the tender to make his observations. The train struck the scoop going at full speed, the engineer not slowing down because he was behind time, but more especially because he was aware of the yardmaster's presence on the platform behind him. For two hundred yards a perfect avalanche of water plowed up between the tender and car, half drowning the enthusiast on water scoops.

Care of the Cows

1896

Have you ever watched your cows on a bitter cold day sneak slowly up to the water trough where you have broken the ice and stick her tongue in the cold water several times until she got used to it, then take a little sip and a little more until she could stand no more of it. Then she will walk slowly over the frozen ground until she gets in the shelter of an old wagon, and there with her back humped up she will stand for two or three hours shivering until what feed she has eaten has had time to warm that water up to a living temperature?

How long ought it to take a sensible man to find out where all of his feed is going, no matter whether it is a milk cow or a dry one. Nearly every pound she eats is needed to warm that water, and little is left to repair the body, much less to make milk or fat of. The simplest kind of a heating apparatus will cost not over ten cents a day to heat the water for a small herd twice a day. It will pay for itself twice over during the winter in food it will save and the milk it will allow the cows to make, and it will do the same in adding flesh to the other cattle, especially the young ones.

Then go a step further and buy some boards to build a shed that the poor things may have a dry place to stand and lie down under with a wind break against the cold piercing storms. These are not only acts of humanity, but they appeal directly to the pocketbook. They make the stacks of hay, the corn fodder and the meal bin go nearly twice as far, to say nothing of increasing the profits of the milch cows.

If a liberal allowance of straw, leaves or other trash is scattered under the shed the amount of manure saved will far more than repay the cost and trouble of collecting it, while it greatly adds to the comfort of the animals. If you are not too tired by this time, then get you a sharp butcher's saw and take the horns off dent from the boss cow and steers, and then the younger ones. This is the best time of year to do it, when there are no flies to bother. — Home and Farm.

Wise Words — "Frenzy and Folly"

1896

Frenzy is the safety-valve of folly.

How fast we learn in a day of sorrow.

If thou desire rest unto thy soul; be just.

Nothing multiplies so much as kindness.

The fire of hate usually flashes in the pan.

Humility is the truest abstinence in the world.

Discretion of speech is more than eloquence.

A sunbeam in the heart is bound to light the face.

Sometimes a man doesn't like justice when he gets it.

A man without mirth is like a wagon without springs.

It never does any good to talk religion with a snap like that of a steel trap.

It is easy to discharge a man who realizes that he is not entitled to anything.

The woman who marries a man to reform him is a noble example of wasted effort.

When you call a fellow a gentleman and he gets his back up it's a sign that you are lying.

The dignity of the law is interesting to contemplate. The men made the laws and then they represented justice by a woman with a bandage around her eyes. They have hoisted this travesty around on monuments and court-houses too much. Justice has been "going it blind" long enough.

Origin of Some Geographical Names

1896

The Menominee, in Wisconsin, was named from a tribe of the same name. The word means "wild rice."

Massachusetts Bay was named from two Indian words, Mais Tchusaeg, meaning "this side the hills."

The Catawissa River, in Pennsylvania, was named from an Indian word that means "getting fat."

The Cattaraugus, in New York, has its name from an Indian expression signifying "bad smelling banks."

The Platte River was originally named the Nebraska, from an Indian word meaning "shallow water."

The Housatonic, in Connecticut, was called by the Indians Wussiadenex, the "stream beyond the mountains."

The Delaware Bay gave its name to the State. The bay was named from Thomas West, Lord De La War.

The Chickahominy had its designation from an Indian word, Chik-a-maw-hony, "the place of turkeys."

Appalachie Bay, Florida, was variously termed Apahlachie, Abolachie, Apeolatel, Palaxy, Palatachy, and so on.

The Neversink was not named because its waters do not get low, but from the Indian Na-wa-sink, "ma-river."

The Pascagoula, in Mississippi, was named from the Indians called the Pascagoulas, or "the bread-making Nation."

Lake Champlain was named in honor of its discoverer. The Indians called it Canaderi-Guarunte, "the door of the country."

Cape Fear River, in North Carolina, was originally Charles River, afterward Cape Fair River, corrupted to Cape Fear.

Albemarle Sound was named after George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, one of the members of the original charter company. — Boston Journal.

Man Made $100,000 on 44-Cent Start

1920

Now Charged With Theft of $500

Arrest Reveals Career of Poor Texas Youth Who Made Fortune in New York

NEW YORK, N. Y., March 25. — Abraham White, known variously as the "Speculator King," the "Postage Stamp Bidder," the "Wireless Chief" and the "Texas Grocer," was held in $1,000 bail by Magistrate Charles N. Haris in the Yorkville court on a charge of grand larceny.

While acting as a plain "financier" at his offices, White is charged with accepting $500 from Julius Reibert, a builder, of Hartford, Conn., last Oct. 15, for investment in stock of the Freezproof Corporation.

Reibert, in his complaint against White, who fifteen years ago made a fortune on a "shoestring" in Wall street, says the stock was to have been delivered to him on Dec. 1. Neither was the stock delivered up to the time of White's arrest in the Hotel Pennsylvania, nor the $500 returned to Reibert, after repeated demands, it was stated.

Made $100,000 From 44 Cents

White started life in Corsicana, Texas, under the name of Abraham Schwartz, fifty-five years ago, the son of the owner of a chain of small grocery stores thruout the Lone Star State. In 1896 the future bond wizard went to St. Louis and changed his name to White.

Later in the year White came to New York and conceived the idea of making $100,000 by investing 44 cents in stamps, plus native shrewdness. At that time President Cleveland and Congress authorized a Government bond issue, and the Secretary of the Treasury forgot to ask for checks to cover the amounts of the bid. White saw his chance. He sent in bids aggregating $1,500,000, at a cost of 44 cents in stamps. He told the late Russell Sage what a smart thing he had pulled off, and the financier was so pleased that he advanced the large sum necessary to tide White over. The former Texas grocer cleaned up $100,000 and that started him on a meteoric career.

Formed Securities Company

While president of a wireless company, White formed the Greater New York Securities Company, a bank located in his office. In September, 1907, he outbid J. P. Morgan & Co. and a syndicate for $18,000,000 worth of city bonds and deposited with his bid a certified check for $800,000. Comptroller Metz tried to collect on the check, but as there were no funds, White's bid was thrown out.

Later, in the name of a Massachusetts corporation, White got $4,000,000 of another issue of city bonds and made $500,000 on the transaction.

While at the height of his career, White bought Shadow Lawn, the palatial residence of the late John A. McCall, at Long Branch, against the bidding of several millionaires. After occupying the house for the summer of 1906, and entertaining lavishly, White disappeared for a few months, leaving a trail of unpaid bills.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, March 27, 1950, p. 5.

Seeing General Jackson

1900

The habitual teller of "yarns" is bound to get himself into all manner of difficulties sooner or later, and to become a laughing-stock among his fellows. In the old Massachusetts town of Wrentham many amusing reminiscences of a celebrated "town liar" of a previous generation, Carlos Ware by name, are still related.

One day, in a company where Carlos was present, mention was made of the time when General Jackson travelled through the town on the stagecoach, on his way to Boston, and put up at the tavern for dinner. Carlos was at once reminded of his own experience on that occasion.

"I remember him," said he. "I see him git down out o' the coach and go into the tavern. You see, I was down to the Four Corners mowin'. It was a pretty hot day, and my team was standin' under a tree. I had just finished whettin' my scythe, when I heard the horn blow on the stagecoach. I knew General Jackson was comin' into the town.

"So I hung my scythe up on a tree, hitched up my team, and drove down here to the Centre in just two minutes. I —"

"Drove down here in two minutes!" exclaimed somebody. "You couldn't do it in two minutes. It's a good mile and a half to the Four Corners, and everybody knows it."

Carlos Ware was bothered for an instant, but he would not give up his two minutes.

"Well, you see," said he, "'twas awful good sleighin'!"

—Youth's Companion.

Clever Butler Briefly Announces Guests

1900

There is no personage quite so imposing as a well-developed specimen of the British butler. The Wellesley Magazine relates an anecdote of one butler whose taste for the impressive was too much for the family whose service he had entered.

He was a newcomer, and almost his first duty was to announce the arrivals at his employer's first "at home" of the season. The earliest guests to appear were Mr. and Mrs. Penny and their daughter, old and familiar friends of the family. The new butler announced them in measured tones and with majestic mien:

"Mr. Edwin Algernon Pembroke Penny, Mrs. Edwin Algernon Pembroke Penny, and Miss Maud Victoria Penny."

Other arrivals were announced at equal length and with equal solemnity. Before the next "at home," the master of the house suggested that so much repetition and elaboration was unnecessary; that he would prefer to have his guests announced more briefly. The magnificent being bowed grave assent and said nothing. But his feelings had been wounded; and he was, unlike most of his kind, as clever as he was majestic.

As before, the first to arrive were Mr. and Mrs. Penny and Miss Penny. When they had ascended the stairs, they paused an instant at the drawing-room door; the next, the butler flung it abruptly open, and they heard themselves briskly announced to their dismayed hosts in the comprehensive formula:

"Threepence!"

—Youth's Companion

Bombonnel — One of the Ugliest Men in Dijon

1900

Bombonnel, the panther-slayer, was a name at one time known all over France; later, the mighty huntsman's fame in the chase was overshadowed by that which he acquired in the Franco-Prussian War as a leader of sharpshooters. Miss Betham-Edwards, who knew him well, gives, in her recent "Anglo-French Reminiscences," many entertaining glimpses of this remarkable man.

It is as a mighty hunter that the world outside of France finds him chiefly interesting; and the more so as it was he who suggested the "Tartarin of Tarascon" of Alphonse Daudet, and figured in many respects as the model of that delightfully comic hero, who has brightened the study of French to so many aspiring students.

It is only fair to add, that if Tartarin was a talker, first and foremost, and a man of adventures with scarcely more than a peg to hang his narratives upon, Monsieur Bombonnel was a great talker, indeed, but had great things to tell.

Bombonnel's panther-hunting took place in Algeria. He had slain more than fifty of these beasts. One nearly slew him, for he met it in a hand-to-claw encounter, and emerged from the conflict victorious, but frightfully mangled.

He had received five wounds on the left hand, eight in the left arm, four in the head, ten in the face, four in the mouth, and besides these his nose was broken, he had lost several teeth, and one cheek was clawed to shreds. It was at first supposed that he would die; then that he would be disfigured to monstrosity. But fortunately, although in a remote place, without anaesthetics or proper nursing available, Doctor Bodichon, a famous surgeon, was at hand to patch him up.

"I can in great measure restore your physiognomy; at any rate, I can give you features that will be human," said the physician, after examining his hurts. "But I warn you beforehand, the suffering will be horrible."

"Doctor," was the reply, "do your best. I can answer for myself. My heart is sound."

So was his courage. He endured like an Indian, and emerged from the ordeal a battered and ugly man, it is true, but of a countenance not monstrous nor repulsive. Such disfigurement as did not disgust his friends did not trouble him at all.

He was walking one day with Monsieur B., a man of unfortunately harsh features, when the pair were startled to hear a street boy sing out:

"There go Bombonnel and Monsieur B., the two ugliest men in Dijon!"

"Not so loud, my little friend. Let folks find it out for themselves," said the amiable Monsieur B., while Bombonnel burst out laughing, and was always delighted afterward to relate the incident.

Ugly or not, Bombonnel became very popular, and was much feted by fine ladies and distinguished people.

"Whenever I am now in Algeria," he related, quite in the "Tartarin" manner, "a cover is always laid for me at the governor's table. But I invariably come away hungry as when I took my place! Great folks invite me not to feast, but to tell stories. It is, 'Now, Monsieur Bombonnel, for the lion of the Corso,' or, 'Now, Monsieur Bombonnel, for the lion of Batna,' and so on, and so on, all the while. What would you have? Fame is not to be had for nothing." — Youth's Companion.

Early Calculator — Lifesaver for Schoolboys?

1900

In one of the statistical divisions of the Department of Agriculture in Washington may be seen a machine resembling a typewriter, which multiplies and divides with unerring accuracy and with great rapidity.

Give its operator a multiplicand of six figures and a multiplier as large, and he will write them out as upon a typewriter; then he turns a handle a few times, and before the onlooker knows what is going on, the product is written out before him. The machine performs examples in division with equal ease.

Does any one of our young readers fancy that he sees in this invention an emancipation of boys of the twentieth century from the vexation of the multiplication table? Alas! that is too much for him to hope. Nobody seems to have devised a machine for adding common fractions of different denominators, although many a young schoolboy has concluded that this is one of the "long-felt wants" of the day.


Intemperance in France

Those who assert that wine-growing countries are largely exempt from the evils of intemperance need not point to France in proof of their assertion. The habitual use of wine often creates the craving which seeks for such stronger stimulants as absinthe or vermouth.

Of about three thousand prisoners in the department of the Seine, in which Paris is situated, it is officially stated, more than two thousand were drunkards. The number of suicides induced by habits of intemperance is said to have more than doubled in recent years. Alcoholism is also largely responsible for the fact that thirty-four per cent of the young men conscripted for the army are sent back as unfit; and in the cities of Normandy, where hard cider is the common beverage, the proportion rejected is much larger. It rises in Caen to fifty per cent; and in Havre three-fourths of the conscripts are rejected.


Vested Interest in Getting It Right

Senator Vest recently sent a newspaper item to be read to the House. The secretary had the wrong side of the clipping, and instead of an editorial on the money question, began: "Ridiculous! We are giving away these goods at half price!" "The other side!" cried Mr. Vest.

That the much vaunted common sense of the American people has another side is forcibly illustrated by recent sales of a good-luck box. This precious humbug is a little wooden case, containing a worthless three-starred ring, worth in all about five cents. But within the past three months many thousands of persons have paid ninety-nine cents apiece for it, expecting it to bring good luck. In this and similar instances the notice might appropriately made: "Ridiculous! We are giving ourselves away for nothing!"

—Youth's Companion.