Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

< fr> ~ ' . - V^JSS^r ' . ' ' - . a,,H ... . . .- . ,.. .... r J ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER! BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1883. NO. 36. VOLUME XXVII. ff|j ' rM Dear Hands. Roughened and worn with ceaseless toil and care, No perfumed grace, no dainty skill, had these; They earned for whiter hands a jeweled ease, And kept the scars unlovely for their share. Patient and slow, they had the will to bear The whole world's burdens, but no power to seize The flying joys of life, the gifts that please. The gold and gems that others find so fair. Dear hands, where bridal jewel never shone' Whereon no lover's kiss was ever pressed, Crossed in unwonted quiet on the breast, I see, through tears, your glory newly won. The golden circlet of life's work well doue, Set with the shining pearl of perfect rest. ?Susan M. Spalding, in Atlantic Monthly. The Mysterious Patient. a physician's stoky. I had graduated in the spring of 87- from tlie College of Physicians nd Surgeons in New York, and was pronounced by it capable of taking human health, and even life, into my hands. I spent many hours in pondering the question how I, an unknown man, was to secure the position and practice 1 had resolved to win. Fortunately I was not as destitute of means as of patients, so 1 resolved at once to take a fine oilice on Madison avenue, to have my coupe at the door after office hours and to go in and out as though overcrowded with calls. This was nothing more nor less than advertising, but it was not of the tabooed kind. One evening in midsummer?for I allowed myself no vacation that year ?I was sitting in my inner oilice when the sound of a carriage stop. ping at my door, and immediately afterward steps hurrying up the stoop, arrested my attention. My oilice boy ushered a man in the waiting-room. I detained him long enough to indulge my sense of importance, then rang for the boy to bring him to me. uonrounu 11: excianneu my visitor, "if I had known you'd keep me waiting, I'd have gone somewhere else! Come now with me J" "Where?" I asked. "No matter now. I'll tell you as we go. It's a case requiring desperate haste." I took my hat and followed my imperious visitor into the carriage. He gave a hurried order to the coachman, and we dashed off. " What is the cjise?" I asked. " That's for you to tell me, if you know anything about your business," was the testy and unexpected reply. My companion was a a man of about forty years. Ilis face would h av e been noble except for an expression of selfwili, which almost ruined it. His bearing was that of a man of the world his manners almost?though not quite ?Lhose of a gentleman. As he had relapsed into silence after his last reIply, I followed his example, and sat quietly awaiting the next turn of affairs. The carriage stopped at a plain brick house in a quiet neighborhood. Before the wheels had ceased to turn, my I companion opened tne door, ana witn the one word " Conie!" led me up the steps. The door was immediately opened from within, and wo ascended to the second story. "What was my amazement to find myself in an apartment furnished not only luxuriously, but with rare magnificence. I probably hesitated a moment on the threshold, for my companion again said " Come," in the imperious tone with which I had grown familiar,and turned to the bed. There lay my patient?a young girl about eighteen. Her large blue eyes, dulled with disease, were staring unconsciously before her. Her long golden hair was tossed over the pillow, looking like a halo around the beautiful head. "Who was this man who, with a middle-aged woman, was the only apparent guardian of such Iyoum ana loveimess : But the case was so serious I soon put aside every thought not connected with the patient. To ray occasional questions the nurse gave me replies as brief as the man had given. I wrote my prescription, gave the necessary directions for the night, saying I would call early in the morning, and rose to leave. The man followed me to the door. " "What's your fee?" said he. I told him. He put a bank note into ray hand, saying: " Come early to-morrow. Give the case every attention. I'll make it worth your while." I judged from his tone that he was pleased with my appearance, and ventured to ask if the lady was his wife.. "She is your patient. You need know nothing further," was his curt reply. II ooweu ana went out nuo me night. The carriage was waiting, so I entered it and was soon at home. "While I was taking my breakfast next morning the office boy entered the room and said: " The carriage is waiting, sir." Instinct told me what carriage it was. I went at once, anxious to know the effects of my prescription on my mysterious patient. Daylight showed only moro plainly than night had done the humble exterior of the house and its unfashionable neighborhood. The door, as on the previous night, was opened immediately on my presenting myself. I ascended the stairs and entered the chamber door. My visitor of the night before nodded a formal recognition, which I returned with equal indifference :is I went to the bed. No light of intelligence beamed from the beautiful eyes that wandered restlessly around the room. There I was less fever, and in several ways my lovely patient seemed to be in a more favorable condition than when I first saw her. I gave my directions and rose to depart. As before, the man met me as I passed out and put a bank note into my hand. Was this to prepare the way for his sudden disappearance at any time he might choose to go? I suspected it was, For several weeks I continued my visits. Although the conditions of general health improved, I was not satisfied with the results of my treatment on the | disease. There were fluctuations which at times encouraged me, but the disease was obstinate and would not yield. During all this time I had no knowledge of these people or their relations to each other. It was evident that they wished to conceal themselves from their friends, and I always feared there was something wrong about it. But that was none of my business. It was my duty, however, if possible, to find the cause of this lovely girlV illness, as it was evident that I needed this to aid me in securing her recovery So I asked for a private interview wit! the man whom I had to myself called Cerberus. Very reluctantly he led me to i room below, the condition of whicl showed that all the house whs no MSB furnished as the young lady's apart flHI ments were. My companion neithe took a seat nor invited me to do so. ^n " Sir," said I, " it is necessary, if tli HI patient is to be successfully treatec I that I should know more than I do c its cause; also whether there ar ^Hj cate it." me fiercely, an( coming close, shook his list in my face, saying at the same time : " That's nothing hut curiosity ! You doctors pretend to understand disease, and to he able to cure it, yet you "will let a soul like this lie in darkness rather than do your best without knowing its secrets ! I scorn v<>u all! Go!" lie turned from the room, leaving me standing there alone. I left the house with the feeling that 1 should not re-enter it. Evidently my services were no longer desired, anil 1 was convinced that they could he of no great value unless I could have the information I had sought in vain. "What was my astonishment that evening to see the woman whom I had always found by the bedside of my mysterious patient come into my room. -She was a most respectable woman, and I had been pleased with the intelligence with which she had nursed ner cnarge. .>uirueu, i sum, - is mic worse?" "She is the same, doctor," wjis the reply, in a quiet, even a dull tone. " There may be no chance fur her ever to be better, but if you knew all about her, perhaps you could help her more. I have come to tell you." "Hadyou permission to do this?" I asked; though I confess I was suffering as keen pangs of curiosity as I have ever experienced. "No," was her reply;"but it is right for you to know. You have done more for my young lady than any other doctor has. Perhaps you can cure her if you know all." i told her to take a seat, and prepared to listen. "I was nurse to my young lady's mother," began the woman; " and when she was married, as she was at seventeen, I went to live with her. Oh, she was so gay and happy, and her husband so proud of her! She loved every beautiful thing, and he made her home like a fairy palace. Just be fore her baby was born?sne mat is my young lady now?he one morning was going to ride. The horse was one he had just bought, and was a wild creature. In some way it became frightened, and threw my master, so that his head struck the sharp corner of the stone step, and he was killed. " My mistress saw it all, for she was standing there waiting to kiss her pretty hand to him as he rode away. At first we thought he was only stunned, but the doctors?we had three ?shook their heads from the first and soon everybody saw there was no hope. My mistress was almost wild with grief and horror. A month later her baby was born. The poor little thing never laughed like other babies. " When she was three days old her mamma died, and I took charge of the child. She was always gentle and sweet, but never gay as her mamma used to be. Often she would say to me: 'Xurse, I wish I could be merry like other children; but everything seems so sad. "Why is it ?' " When she was old enough 1 told ^ /vf 1 w*r? i\ono orwl mommo nn LIIC Q*J\JkJ Ut llU cmv?. nuvumm and of their sad death. Oh, how she cried, poor dear. ' I remember it all,' she said, looking up through her tears. 41 have seen it ;dl in my dreams, very, very often,but I did not.understand it.' On her last birthday she was of the same age her mamma was when she was born. The night before she was very sail, and had made me tell her the whole painful story of her parents' death over again. In the morning she had disappeared, and after a long search I found her at the house where she was born, but which had been closed lor so many years. There she sat, my poor child, her beautiful face shadowed in gloom, her finger pointing to the stone which had killed her papa. When I tried to rouse her, I found that her reason had gone. "That was three months ago, sir. The gentleman who is with her is her guaidian, and he is very anxious that it should never be known that she has been mad, for it would ruin her future, poor dear ! So we came here and hid ourselves where we knew nobody could find us. lie made her rooms like those at home, so that everything should be familiar to her when consciousness should return. lie won't give her name or his to anyone, for fear of their being remembered when she's well again." I asked several questions of a professional nature, and then sdd there was a chance of rousing the sufferer by a shock; that heretofore I had tried to do this by keeping her calm; now, if I were to continue in charge of her case, i snouui try aiujuier intuiou. She entreated me to do so, and to ignore the dismissal I had received from the guardian that morning. " lias she," I asked, "no dear friend? Is there not some one whose presence would stir her pulses if she were well?" The woman hesitated, but said : "Yes, she has a lover. He is not favored by her guardian, who has other plans for her, but they love each other truly, and grief at being forbidden to see him had a great deal to do with her illness." "Then we must work secretly in bringing him here, must we not?" I asked. " Will it defeat our purpose if we take the guardian into our conli aence? "It will not do to tell him anything," she said. " Can you give me the lover's address She did so, and I saw that a day or two must elapse before ho could reach New York, even if I telegraphed at once. "I will continue the case a little longer," said I. "If this effort fails, I will resign it to more competent hands." The woman bowed and rose to leave. 1 noticed that she veiled her face closely, and drew around her one of those nondescript garments ladies call waterproofs. I waited impatiently for morning though many of the intervening hours were spent in studying recorded cases similar to those of my patient. At last the hour for iny visit came. I decided to make it without explanation, as though it were expected. I found things as usual in the sickroom. Cerberus looked surprised, but I thought relieved also, at my appearance. The nurse gave no sign of any understanding bet ween us. I tried to fix the wandering eye of my patient by a resolute look in my own, and was glad to see that this evidently disturbed her. Holding her attention in this way 1 spoke one or two words, to which she seemed to listen, and then broke away from the restraint. It was a disadvantage not to know her name, as the sound of it would have arrested her attention more than anything else. But I found that slu could be held for a moment at a time 1 I changed the entire plan of my pre scriptions, and, telling the nurse thai I wanted her to call her mistress dis tinctly by name every time she gavi her medicine or reiiesmixvm,, ?cu i away. > That evening I was glad to see souk I slight changes, indicating that my plai was working well. i On my return home I wrote to tin I absent lover, telling him all I though necessary, and urging him to com i home at once. Meantime I would d< i my best with my patient. t It was at midnight, two days latei - when I was roused from sleep by j r furious ringing of the night-bell. I answer to my inquiries a voice, eagei e even hoars*., with emotion, cried t y me: t, "For heaven's sake, doctor, com f down and tell me how and where sh e is!" i- I then knew that my visitor was m patient's lover. ; Though the tende J, passion had not yet touched me, I syn pathized with the young man's feelings strong enough to go to him as soon as possible. I found him exhausted, mentally as well as physically. For three months, ever since the mysterious disappearance of the young lady, he had wandered over the country in search of her, following traces which had led him far astray. My lirst duty was evident, and 1 offered him such refreshments as I could command. But he would touch nothing till I assured him of the safety of his Madeleine?for this was her name. I told him how the case had been brought to me; how my treatment of it had failed; how I depended on him to aid me now. "We must," I continued, " find an hour when the guardian is out. Then we will go to the room, and you will greet her suddenly, but quietly. "We will see what the effect will be." It was so late, I persuaded Mr. HowI 4-ltof ?f.io )?ic? nomo 7Tnr?inn lilllU? IfllClU U (lO llto A4?W*4\sf J.A V/A Ilowland?to lie upon my lounge during the remainder of the night. On my return to my room I wrote the following note to the nurse* "Mr. I lowland has come. "We must seethe young lady when her guardian is out. Put one of these cards in the window to tell me at what time we shall call" I inclosed cards with the various hours of the day marked distinctly on them. I then retired to sleep. It was with a sense of relief that I saw the sun shining when I awoke? all nervous conditions are so much more favorably met on a bright than on a dull day. Mr. I lowland was sleeping as I passed through the room. Poor fellow! how haggard and pale he was ! Hut I saw that his face and head were noble. I made my morning call at the earliest hour I could. My lovely patient was better in every way. Her sleep had been refreshing, and she was more attentive to what 1 said than she had been before. Her guardian stood by as usual, and [ found it difficult to give my note to the nurse without attracting his attention. I accomplished it finally, and made my exit. In about an hour I; passed the house, and on looking up at the designated window, saw the figures " 1?3. I was grateful for the length of time we could have for our experiment. I hastened home and told my good news to Mr. Ilowland. He seemed too miserable to be greatly cheered by it; and, indeed, I could r?ot wonder that his heart was despondent. At nreciselv ten minutes past one we were at the door. The nurse opened it, and, saying: "It is all safe He will be gone till three," took us up stairs. I told Mr. Ilowland to wait outside till I called him. When I entered I found my patient sitting in an easy-chair, a picture of loveliness, if one excepted the restless, expressionless eyes. I sat by her, took her hand, and said, slowly. " Madeleine, where is Horace ?" She started, looked troubled, Hushed a little; then the old vacant look returned. 1 repeated the question, holding her eyes with mine. At length I gave the sign to the nurse, and she called Horace. He came in hurriedly, as though he could wait no longer. Madeleine rose, stretched out her arms, fell on his neck and sank in a swoon. All this was well; but how would she come out of the faint con dition? "W'eput her on the lounge, and after applying restoratives for a long time, consciousness began to return. She opened her eyes, saw Horace standing at the foot of the lounge, and tears began to flow; then sobs?strong, ! convulsive sobs?shook her delicate frame. The nurse wanted to check j them, but I desired their continuance without restraint. Horace, meantime, had knelt by her side, and was holding the lovely head on his broad shoulder, and whispering words of love and tenderness into the awakened ear. She looked into his face with joy at last in her eyes, and said: "Horace, they told me that stone killed you, too." Then she fell into a peaceful sleep. I knew it would last for hours, and, charging the nurse to keep everything from Cerberus, and to tell Madeleine I her lover would return the next morning, we left. Horace was so exhausted that he yielded to my entreaties to seek ! ?*nof fnr mincolf IViJV 1 VI illill.JV.il. 1 think I was as impatient for the hour of my evening visit as I have ever heen for anything in life. I was hopeful, yet not confident, that my plan hail succeeded. On entering the room I found my patient very weak, but reason had returned. She looked at me with intelligence, and answered my questions rationally. I whispered to her that Horace was sleeping, but that he would see her the next day if she was good and slept well herself. She smiled happily and evidently understood that her guardian's presence forbade further speech. Jint my story is too long already; I must not tell in detail how Madeleine grew stronger and happier day by day, until at length she was well. Nor must I describe the wedding, at which I was best man; nor need I tell how sulkily grim Cerberus gave her away when he found he could not keep her for himself. About Noses. It has been the custom for people of all races to admire, or pretend to admire, their own noses, and to sneer at those that differed from them. The Semitic nose has never been thought by the world at large to correspond with any principle of beauty. Yet the Arabs and Syrians speak contemptuously of the "Hat-nosed Franks." and Disraeli has taken pleasure in repeating the phrase. The Africans are proud of their broad, llat noses, and some tribes endeavor, by inserting artificial objects, to increase their pet deformity. Time and careful breeding, which did so much for the noses of the (ireeks and Romans, and .have helped, and are helping, to make those of the Slav, Latin and Teuton r;tc?s straight and beautiful, have done little to modify the prominent features of the Semitic and Turanian races. Most personsj who ! have long noses are apt to be proud and boastful, arguing either that they are abstractly beautiful or that they ' indicate strength of character. Tin 1 nose of Tennyson, as seen in his pori traits, is long, and may in his youthful i days have been finely modeled. II( . seems to have thought so, for ir - ' Maud" he sneers at the druggist's t clerk iis a "snub-nosed rogue," usinf - an opprobrious term,common wherevei : the English language is spoken. Twi t hundred years ago the nose was longe: than at present, if we can judge b; s old portraits, and even the nasal or 1 gans of our Revolutionary sires wer more pronounced than those of tlii ti generation, giving some color to th t theory that the feature had some som e sort of relation to individual char o acter. A good story is told about Mazzin a While the notorious Italian agitate n was in London he went one dav wit "? an English friend and bought a lot c o rusty old swords and pistols. "Wha on earth are you going to do wit e them ?" asked the Britisher. "Nothin e at {ill," replied Mazzini; "only, whe the police hear of my purchase, teli y grams will be sent everywhere, an sr not a king or queen will sleep quiet! l FROLOF, THE EXECUTIONER. IXTEJtVTEIV IVITH THE RUSSIAX HAXGJIAX AT HIS IIOJIE. An Ex-.IIurilcrcr Hctlrcri from RiulneMW Wlio I)?ph all the I-c^nl StrniiKlInu for tlic C'znr.?An Iiintanrc of Illn StrcnKlli. The following is u narrative of an interview which M. Victor Tissot, a Frenchman, had at Moscow with Frolof, the Russian executioner of all the Russians. Prolef is an ex-murderer retired from business, condemned to death by the tribunals, but whose son tence has been commuted to perpetual imprisonment on condition tli.it lie should continue to carry on for the state the little business which he formerly carried on for himself. Frolof has been locked up for the last fifteen years in the central prison at Moscow. If a hanging is to take place at Kiew, Odessa or St. Petersburg, Frolof is sent thither under escort. I had been promised an interview with Frolof. It was even proposed to send him to mv hotel, escorted by gendarmes. But I cared too much for my reputation to accede to such a position. Besides, that would be taking Frolof out of his sphere; an executioner who is a prisoner must be seen in prison. One evening on returning home 1 found the following dispatch, which I have carefully preserved amcng my archives of travel: "The executioner has arrived. I called to take you with me to the prison. Did not iind you at home. Let me know at what time I may call for you to-morrow." I answered that I would be free from 12 o'clock. At 3 o'clock the next day Mr. X. called for me with His carriage. Frolof's hands must have been warm from the last execution. He had just returned from St. Petersburg, where he had hung two nihilists Pressniakoff and Kiwiatkowski. The central prison where the executioner resides is situated in the suburbs. Its exterior aspect is not very romantic. Imagine a vast inclosure, surrounded by a palisade twelve feet high, and guarded by sentries in long gray coats with fixed bayonets. In the first courtyard was a small hovel, in the basement of which Frolof resided in a kind of underground cave. AVe descended a dirty stairway and reached a dark room, which was more like a den for wild beasts than anything else. A woman dragging a dirtv urchin came to meet us. My friend said to her, "Where is Frolof?" " He is not at home," she answered; " he has gone out to make a few purchases. But he will be back in live minutes. Perhaps you have come to buy some rope ?" "No!" "Oh! it never was in such demand as it is now. Jie seated, my nuauuiiu will be in presently." This was the executioner's wife. She had a very sweet voice and blue eyes, but her complexion was heavy and colorless. She wore-the costume of the country people?the chemise with large puffed sleeves, the red sarafan and the apron fastened upon her shoulders. Upon the table a samover, with a breast of a shining copper colct .was singing. Some worn-out tooloops were hanging on the wall. They looked sis if they were spoils taken from the men who had been executed. A sound of footsteps was heard in the courts above us. "Ilere is Frolof now," said his wife; "the gendarmes who accompanied him have just returned." In a few minutes he appeared, entirely idling the doorway with his massive frame, his broad shoulders and his immense head, with its shaggy mane of black hair. lie was dressed like a man of the people, lie wore a small hat, a red shirt under his tooloop and pantaloons of dark cloth, which were tucked into his boots. Contrary to the expectation of sentimentalists, there was nothing terrifying in the aspect of this indefatigable slayer of men. The only noticeable difference between him and any otherjmoujik was the brute strength shown in his thick neck and his immense muscular arms. Frolof is as good as twenty gendarmes. When an insurrection threatens to break out among the prisoners, it is only necessary for Frolof to show himself at the door armed with a whip or a club, and order and silence are immediately restored. lie once killed two rebellious prisoners with a single blow of his list. The memory of this exploit is preserved among the prisoners. Frolof asked us to be seated; then, at our request, he told us about the execution which he had just performed at St. Petersburg. Everything went off smoothly. The scaffold was erected early in the morning, at a distance of 250 meters from the prison. The condemned men, clothed in long white robes, their hands tied behind Hw.ivi nml pjirrvinor unnn their breasts ??44M "i a card bearing the inscription, " Condemned for political crimes," were brought to the place of execution in a carriage between two rows of gendarmes on foot and on horseback. They ascend *i small staircase four steps high; in the twinkling of an eye the knot is slipped around the neck, then the stairs are suddenly jerked away, the body falls into space, the limbs twitch convulsively a few moments, and then ;dl is over. Frolof said that when Pressniakroff saw the two gibbets from his carriage, he smiled, looking proudly and defiantly at his escort. Kiwiatkowski, on the contrary, was terribly dejected, his ! head hung down upon his breast, and I he was as pale as death. AVhert they I Ii'flrp nlinnt. t.n l)fi led to the SCafToltl Pressniakoff was heard to say to his companion: "Courage, brother, fear not!" Both kissed the crucifix and made the sign of the cross before dying. Kiwiatkonski was thirty years old; Pressniakoff twenty-five. Frolof told us all this with the simplicity and carelessness of a moujik rei lating a fairy tale at an evening gath! ering. It was evident that hanging was an every-day affair with him. He told us that this was his twenty-fifth hanging, and that he looked forward for still better times. | Then he oltered each of us a bit of i genuine rope ; for he freely acknowl ! edged that it' lie did not sometimes , substitute bogus rope for the genuine . he could not make it last. For gam( biers?and what Russian will not gamble??will spend their rubles freely for those bits of rope, which are - supposed to bring good luck to their possessor. Frolof derives a consider. able revenue from the hangman's rope [ Frolof accompanied us as far as the > j lOOt 01 tne steps 01 uisuiivt*, iiuu tviicn i! he went back a gendarme closed upon 51 him the massive door which makes the r | executioner's residence a true prison, ^ i The Perpct?aI Perfume of Cedar. r I The pleasant odor of cedar, accord, ing to Mr. E. Lewis, appears to lie at I persistent as the wood itself. Sliver? R taken from white cedar stumps fount! ' twelve feet under water at low tidt e near the Narrows entrance to New e York harbor had the odor of newly grown wood, and a piece not twic< the size of one's finger perceptibly scented a drawer for more than a year . " It is certain," says Mr. Lewis," tha ' the coast where the trees of whicl I these are the stumps grew has sine* ^ undergone a depression of eighteen t< ^ twenty feet, an event which may liavi ^ occupied as many centuries." 8 n A boy's tool chest only costs $2, am 3- if the lad is anyways bright lie cai d ?aw the legs off of every chair in th< y house and bore holes through ever THE FARM AXD HOUSEHOLD. Pnlnt the Roof*. The roofs of houses and barns need paint, and are as much benefited by it as the sides are. It is seldom done, indicating pretty plainly that paint is more often put on for appearance than for utility. For the roof of barns paint is especially important, as it makes a hard surface from which dust and chaff are washed by rains, instead of remaining under the shingle to hasten decay. A farmer who had a low barn with nearly a fiat roof found that the dust from the threshing machine each year rotted his shingles so ili at they had to be replaced every seven or eight years. More than twenty years ago he had a new roof painted over his barn. lie had it painted three times and the roof is still in good condition.?American Cul uiiuauvtii. jlxii inuoc ?? juiu uvwi exposed to free air had gained in weight; for instance, beans had gained 1-50 and peas about 1-72 of their original weight. The seeds confined in closed air Jiad gained a little, peas 1-790 and beans 1-11(J0. The seeds confined in carbonic ncid gas hardly varied at all from their original weight. As to comparative germination of peas kept in fresh air, ninety per cent, germinated; in closed air, forty-live per cent, germinated; in carbonic acid, none. Beans kept in free air, ninety-eight per cent, germinated; in closed air, two per cent, germinated; in carbonic acid, none. If the full course of experiments give such results, it will be made clear, first, that the vegetable embryo in the seed is not, strictly speaking, latent, but is doing some work, however little, and is keeping up a respiration, which is essential to its continued life; second, that the life of seeds cannot be indefinitely prolonged. Very old seeds exposed to thcnir must be ilead [from exhaustion, and those deeply buried by suffocation, and the numerous recorded cases of the germination of ancient seeds are more and more to be distrusted. Young Stock. The most appropriate food for all kinds of young stock is the mother's milk, and as soon as the young things can lie induced to eat other food? grass, etc.?they should be supplied with ground feed, shelled corn, hay, grass and any other such feed, which, lieing fed with the dam's milk, makes the most satisfactory growth. The milk materially aids digestion, and thus it is that the larger quantity of food is consumed, which, with the milk, makes the finest possible growth of flesh, bone ififd, muscle. It was this milk and smiled corn that made the famous big*eer in Missouri out of a scrub calf, and had that calf been a good high grade still better results would have been obtained with the milk feed and care or that can. uopo blood is important for the best results. Never use any other than full blood sires should be the motto of every farmer. Then, with good stock, rthe judicious care and treatment from the very iirst week of birth will bring satisfactory results in dollars and cents. The young farmer and stock raiser will fnul that successful treatment of young animals, to secure health, thrift and vigor is the art that can hardly be too diligently investigated. The money value of stock or the profit in raising stock depends on knowing how to do it economically. Economy does not consist in cheap food, but in such as the animal, whatever its kind, will readily assimilate and will give the bist returns in desirable growth. If the food is not l ight, no excess of quantity will make up for its deficiency in quality. Water is indispensable and should be pure; impure and stagnant water ought not to be tolerated. The first few months 1 I .11. .iniiii'il't! liff! ?ir<> t.hp trinst, im. portant period in its existence to it* owner. If it is neglected and stunted no subsequent treatment can make ! good the injury except at a cost thai represents no inconsiderable extr; sacrifice of time, care and money.? Western Agriculturist. i ' Farm ami <Jnr?len Note*, [ Good straw is better cattle foot ' than poor hay. Overfeeding is worse than no i feeding enough. (Jood and careful feeding save . nearly half the food usually fed t t stock. i A filthy man with filthy hands milk c ing a filthy cow in a filthy stable int a a filthy pail is the perfection of filth. e It is much cheaper to spend te cents for neatsfoot oil once in thre months than fifty cents for mending a I the harnessmaker's. a Stop the cracks and holes in the sts 3 ble, whether made of boards or strav y and save paia to yoiir animals an Do not let the calves run in the same yard with cows and oxen, as they frequently get hurt in consequence of the older animals hooking them. Successful farming is much more complex than any trade, and demands more constant thought than most branches of professional life, together with executive ability equal to the management of any business. Grass lands produce annual crops of hay or pasturage; all arable lands under a rotation system will grow annual crops, and each different crop by judicious cultivation and proper use of manures will produce about equal returns in market value. Do not let your strong and weak sheep run together, because if you do the chances .are you will have occasion to take off some of their pelts before spring. The old 3heep, if you have any, which it is better not to have, should iivaior. IWortnr for .Hanurc. The value of old mortar as a fertilizer consists of the lime and sand in it. In heavy soils sand is of great use, and it is always freely employed by ilorists in making the .soil for potting their plants. The lime is also of some use. In making the mortar the lime dissolves some of the sand, and as sand contains more or less potash in the mineral particles this is freed and made soluble. For these reasons old mortar is in request by gardeners and florists. In planting roses it may be used ;is a material for compost, in combination with others, as follows: Four parts of powdered mortar, one part broken charcoal, one part of broken bones, four parts of old rotted manure, and ten parts of vegetable mold from woods. Half a peck of compost may be dug in the soil for each plant and also worked in about the roots at the planting. Tanning Pelts. The appended recipe for tanning skins with the wool or fur on?for use in sleighs or wagons, as house rugs or for other purposes?is given by City and Country: If the hides are not freshly taken off, soak them in water with a little salt until they are soft as when green. Then scrape the llesh off with a lieshing knife or with a butcher's knife with a smooth round edge, and with sheepskins the wool should be washed clean with soft-soap and water and the suds he thoroughly rinsed out. For each skin take four ounces of alum and one-half ounce of borax. Dissolve these in one quart of hot water, and when cool enough to bear the hand stir in sullicient rye meal to make a thick paste with half an ounce Spanish whiting. This paste is to be thoroughly spread over every part of the flesh side of the skin, which should be folded together lengthwise, wool side out, and left for two weeks in an airy place. Then remove the paste, wash and dry the skin; when not quite dry, it must be worked and pulled .and scraped with a knife made for the purpose, shaped like a chopping-knife, or with a piece of hard wood made with a sharp edge. The more the skin is worked and scraped, as it dries, the more pliable it will be. Vltnlllv of MceilN. In ;i recent umber of the Gardeners'' C'hroni'le mention is made of some preliminary experiments to ascertain the effects of different conditions on the latent vitality of seeds. Several packets of seeds were, in January, 1880, divided into three equal parts ; one portion exposed to the free air, but screened from dust; another inclosed in air, being tightly corked up in a tube; the third placed in pure carbonic acid. At the end of two years the seeds were taken out, weighed n*?/l nAu?r? All fltnen u'ln'rtK linrl linon occupy quarters by tnemseives, as should also the lambs; and be cared for a little better than the principal Hook. There are millions of dollars wasted yearly by an effort of farmers to make young cattle and colts live and thrive, or even winter on the straw pile or in the stalk field. They are attempting to make the young animals do what nature did not intend them to do. They cannot assimilate enough of the straw or fodder to keep up heat and energy. An exchange gives the following as the implements needed for a creamery from cream of 200 cows: Two 150-gallon cream tempering vats; one 300gallon revolving box churn; one factory size hand butter worker; two butter ladles; one 240-pound Union counter scales with platform and tin scoop; two 14-quart ironclad tin pails; i n -i one i-gituua uippt-r. A barrel sawed in two in the middle makes a couple of good tubs for feeding grain to cows or stock, but unless they have a hoop round the top they often break to pieces in a short time. If the ends are sawed off just above the second row of hoops they make stout, handy tubs about eight or ten inches deep, that will stand a good deal of knocking about. There is no animal so easily choked as a pig; and there are undoubtedly many cases in which men have poured mixtures fearlessly into the mouth of a screaming pig, but only to feel a dead weight on their hands, and see the poor animal stretched lileless at his feet. As a useful purgative for pigs, we may mention a couple of croton beans, bruised and mixed with the food. Kiter and sulphur are among the remedies often of service and easily administered. The hog, like the horse, has no extra stomach to store away food, therefore if fed but twice a day and what he will eat, he overloads his stomach, and if the food is not pushed beyond the point where it will digest, the stomach is filled so full that a considerable portion of the food fails to come in contact with the lining of the stomach, and thus a very large proportion of the nutriment in the food is lost. Experiments prove that a hog thus fed wastes more than half of the meal given him. We have no doubt the same is true of the horss, when fed large quantities of hay and grain, and fed but twice a day. If Indian corn has a value of 64 as compared with 100, the standard of hay as a ration for stock, then potatoes would rank at 245; that is, it wmilii tiiwp Ifl'j nminds of notatoes to fatten as far as sixty-four pounds of corn, or nearly four times as much. Beets are rated at 336 pounds in the scale; thus, theoretically, it would take five times as many pounds as of Indian corn; but fattening is not in question, but health. It is found in practice with farm animals that the ration of succulent vegetable food largely increases the digestibility of gtain; and this is especially true with swine, to which roots are a natural food. Rnrlprn. French Rolls.?Beat two eggs and mix with them a half pint of milk and a tablespoonful of yeast. Knead well and let it stand till morning. Then work in one ounce of butter. Mold into small rolls and bake at once. Boiled Celery.?Cut of! the green parts and boil the celery gently in ?ii<riitiv salt. ! lmilinf? water until ten "**?5 " X.-J o tier, leaving the saucepan uncovered. "When done, drain well and serve on toast, with cream or drawn butter sauce poured over all. Batter Pudding.?Take one pint of milk and three tabU spoonfuls of Hour and beat them until smooth. Add a small quantity of salt and three eggs, yolks and whites beaten separately. Bake in buttered cups or a pudding-dish about half an hour in a quick oven. Serve warm with sauce. Ginger Cake.?Proportions?Three ounces butter, five ounces sugar, half ounce ginger, half ounce ciunamon, half ounce mace, two large eggs, half pint of mohisses, one pint of milk (cold), half ounce saieratus (dissolved), one pound flour; mix the above proportions successively as they are noted above, and bake in small molds itfra hot oven. To^Much to Swallow at Once. According to a Madison (Ind.) correspondent of the New York Times, .James O'Donnell, a resident of the former place, has performed the following gastronomical feats: In the fall of 1879 O'Donnell, on a wager, ate thirty quails in thirty consecutive days, At a subsequent date he ate in thirty consecutive days double the number ot quaus?sixty. On April 5, 1881, he ate twentyfour goose eggs in fifteen minutes and twenty seconds. On April 20,1881, he devoured two mince pies in an incredibly short time, washing them down with eight drops of croton oil. On July 4, 1881, at a public celebra:.'on in the park, in twenty seconds by the watch, lie ate a cooked goose, weighing eleven pounds and ten ounce?, including the stuffing, and then demanded his dinner. In the fall of 1881 lie drank a halfpint of castor oil on a wager. On another occasion, the Scientific American having, as O'Donnell says, stated it to be impossible for a man to eat a dozen oysters in sugar, he tested the matter, and very easily got away with three dozen sugared oysters at , one short sitting. i One day recently, on a ivager, the . loser to pay the hill, he ate Jive cans of , sardines in ten minutes?and asked 1 for more. O'Donnell is a hale, hearty , man, of good disposition, unmarried, of Irish parentage, and is probably I about forty years of age. A Trr mendotis Eater. The most enormous cater on record, probably, is mentioned by a French physician in a late work on medical 1 science. lie was a soldier in the French army. At seventeen years of t, age, when he weighed but 100 pounds, he could eat twenty-four pounds of beef in so many hours, lie was allowed quadruple rations in the army, besides pickings and waste meat. lie was once observed to eat a whole cat. except the bones, raw; and he was fond ?'.of serpents and eels, swallowing them whole. In the presence of some ofii" 1 - fliirfv rwuimlu nf 11 cers no nwununcu vmi.vj e .liver and lights at one sitting. II( it once fell under suspicion of having oaten a child fourteen months old i- After his death his stomach was founc f, in a very diseased condition. Strang< PALATIAL TRADE RESORTS. SOMETHING ABOUT XE1F YORK'S FASHION MARTS. How They Are Dnily Thronged With People nml What in Within the Ilangc of I'omhIbllity. From 3 until 4 o'clock every pleasant iifternoon there is a luxuriant crowd in the vicinity of Fourteenth street and Sixth avenue. To the stranger it looks as if three or four festivals and as many public schools had suddenly emptied their human contents into that street. The eddies combine at the corner and unite in one vast whirlpool of women. There are no bulletins in the neighborhood and no great battle raging somewhere from which they expect to hear of fathers and brothers and lovers killed killed or wounded. "What, then, fills them with such excitement ? "What is it Hushes their faces and tightens their nerves and quickens their steps ? They are shopping! They are in the paroxysms of purchasing. The delirium of cheap bargains is on them. They hear not the rush of the bobtail car, neither do they w uiuca WIJ. uuv iiw*. - ^ waiting rows at tne counters. They fill up the alleys between the tables. They move in slow, crowding lines down the aisles. They jostle and press each other, and a strange, incomprehensible jargon of sounds fills the place. They stand in a packed mass around the elevators. One steady stream is coming in, eager and elastic, another is going slowly out, tired and satisfied, hugging its little bundles and making motions to the car-drivers a block off. To go up one of these elevators is to see ttoor after lloor similarly crowded, with similar tables heaped with perishable fabrics and flimsy toys and combustible goods piled promiscuously in all directions. There are seventeen hundred employes in this building ! And how many customers, think you? The gentlemanly guide says fifteen hundred. The Journal reporter adds it up. Seventeen and fifteen, three thousand and two hundred. Nearly all women. Then he asks the gentlemanly guide: "Did you ever have a panic?" The gentlemanly guide takes a pair ' r ? ?A?i rvA/ilrnf I of scissors out oi ms vest swings them round his thumb reflectively, and with a set smile says : "Panic? Oh, no; house too well established." "Suppose it should get afire? Isn't it packed to the roof with powdery merchandise? Don't the papers and the authorities make a continual ado about theatres and hotels that never have half as many people in as you have here, but that are compelled to take every precaution for their safety? Don't they ?" As the gentlemanly guide only smiled, it was useless to pursue the matter further. But the investigator strolled Into another of these places on Nineteenth street and Sixth avenue, another one on Fourteenth street in the middle of ths block, only to find the same crowding, the same blockade of tables, and the same general heaping nf <inst.ructiblenronerty.allaround. *"*> . At the elevated station a gentleman met him, who said: "I have a telegram announcing the death of my wife's mother, and I came down to that establishment on the corner to tell her, but I could not find her. She's there somewhere's shopping, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and I got tired out by the crowd of women." ?New York Journal. A Dutch Farm. An English traveler describes a Dutch farm near Haarlem, and the family working it. He declares that lie never saw anything so exquisitely clean, neat, pretty and well arranged; the kitchen and the kitchen stove a perfect picture of polished steel and spotless plaques; all the pails painted a light blue with hoops of silvery brightness; the dairy, a scene of red tiles and gleaming milk-pans, pleasing to every sense; the barn,more like cabinet work than carpentry. The railings of the outdoor staircase to the hay-lofts are handsome enough for any mansion; the ladders are nicely finislipd the cates highly orna mental; the fences Jill elegant and tasteful. There is no litter anywhere; no neglected corners; no ill-kept patches of grass; no waste places overgrown with weeds, and this farm is not a ricli man's plaything, but a real farm, worked chiefly by tyie occupant and his sons and daughters, who derive from it their whole revenue. The Tickle Trade. | On account of the great progress made in the pickle industry within the | past ten years in this country, the imports of fancy Knglish pickles have fallen oil'at least one-half during that period, although common pickled cucumbers grown in this country for pickling come from New York, Xew Jersey, Illinois and California, the industry being a special one in some of these Mates, j lie <uiuu<u i iwt, *,.v, country is estimated at 100,000,000. The crop is generally contracted for in advance, and some large growers have this year contracted their crops at $1.50 to $2 per 1,000. The manufacturers say that so little of copperas now enters pickles that there is no danger to a moderate consumption of them from its use. Uncolored pickles also find a ready market.?(Jrumje Visitor, A liroad Hint. Sir Andrew Agnew was famous for giving broad hints. The nature of tlieni will be best ascertained by the following anecdote: Sir Andrew having for some time been pestered by an impertinent intruder, it was one day remarked to the baronet that this man no longer appeared in company, and i asked him how he contrived to get rid of him. "In truth," said the baronet, ? "I was obliged to give the chief a ; broad hint." "A broad hint!" replied I the friend. "1 thought he was one of . those who could not take a hint." "He I my faith I but he was forced to take ? it," answered Sir Andrew; "for as the j yellow would not go out by $lie door, I mmmm Holidays iu Japan. The Japanese have more than twenty fanciful names by which they designate their beautiful country, but the sobriquet which to a foreigner seems the most fitting is certainly the Land of Holidays. So excuse is too trivial for a Japanese to make holidays, and when he does not make them himself, the government politely steps in and makes them for him. Thus, one day in every six, called ichi roku, is a statute holiday; so is the third clay in every moon, while the list of national festivals commemorative of great men or of great deeds is simply inexhaustible. If a great man dies in England, they commemorate him by a monument in "Westminster Abbey; if a great man dies in Japan, he is remembered by a holiday; so that what with the mythical great men who are thus remembered, and the historical great men who have died during the past five thousand years, it is a little difficult to find a day of the Japanese year which has not the name of a ce care for the scream of the train overhead. They come in troops, in bevies, in brigades. They run against each other. They crowd round the windows and disappear in the doorways. The great madness is on them to buy something. At this corner is one of the great retail emporiums that ol" late years have sprung up and absorbed the business of the small dealers. It is bazaar, shop, fair, festival, show. It feeds the eye, the ear, the stomach. It deals in every conceivable thing, from a shoestring to a cemetery plot. It invites the soul of womanhood with its superficial display. It stimulates her . imagination by ranging all the products of art and science on tables where she can turn them over and price them. It tickles her vanity by only charging her ninetynine cents for a dollar corset and forty-nine cents for a fifty-cent pair of hose, or a dog collar, or a book, or a set of teeth that elsewhere costs half a dollar, and she goes all the way to Harlem to boast among her acquaintances of that extra cent that was saved1 No wonder the women of America congregate about these bazaars. They get three miles of prices for ten cents of purchase. They can feast their ?afnrvinir tVioir nnrsp.tl. WitliUUU auuiuig vuv. 1 And above all, they can enjoy the excitement of a crowd without having to pay a matinee price. Inside the doors all is buzz, buzz and whirl. There must be 1,000 ?+v,n tinnr Thpv stand in lebritv attached to it. But the greatest day of the year, the festival par excellence of the people, the festival into which is compressed the essence of the fun and enjoyment and happiness of all the other days put together, is the festival of the new year. We may be familiar with the celebration of the day in Paris or New York, but the proceedings there are tame and lifeless when compared with the spontaneous outburst of rejoicing which characterizes New Year's day in Japan. Preparations for it have to be made weeks beforehand, both public and private. The father of a family has to select and purchase the presents which it will be de rigueur for him to make, not only to his own family ana intimate friends, but to every one with whom he has been brought into the slightest business contact during the past year; the mother must see that her children's new dresses are ready and that the domestic arrangements for the great festival are in order; the damsels must decide in what fashion the obi, or sash, is to be worn, or whether beetles or butterflies are to be en regie for hair-pins; the servants are already cleaning and sweeping out the house, so that it may present a spotless face to the new year; the tradesman ascertains that his books are duly balanced, so that he may start afresh with a clean bill of health; and so on, through all grades and classes of society. Early in the morning?that is to say, early for the Japanese, who by no means harmonize in their ideas with the name given by them to their country, the Land.of the Rising Sun?the streets are thronged by a crowd of men, women and children, each one of whom has his or her newest garments on, and all of them are bent upon the one errand of paying visits. The old "first-footing" custom of the "north countree" finds its replica in this fair land, fifteen thousand miles away. To be the first visitor is considered as auspicious as to be late is considered the reverse. And it is strange to observe the orthodox manner of paying a visit. The object of the visit?generally the master of the house, as his family are abroad discharging their social duties?is seated gravely on the mats at the back of the room wmch opens on the street; a tray with wine and sweets on one hand, and the inevitable charcoal brazier on the other. To him a visitor comes, carefully shaking off his clogs at the door; he prostrates himself upon the extreme edge of the matting, his forehead touching tne mats and his hands placed under his shoulders. Delivering himself of a few guttural sounds, he moves forward a few inches, and indulges in another prostration, and so on until he is within a couple of feet or so of the recipient of his politeness. The latter then addresses him in a language of compliment and self-abasement which is simply untranslatable, but the drift of which is that he is utterly uilworthy to be the object of such worthy attention from such an honorable lord, and that in all humility he begs that he will accept a cup of wine. The still prostrate visitor declares himself to be so utterly 1 xt- x _i. 4r/\ fliinl/ nf ueneatn cuuitmipo tu uuu wu uuiun w*. taking sueli liberty; but he invariably does so, as a real refusal would give offense, and in a few seconds the pair are engaged in familiar conversation. Before taking his leave the visitor drops, as it were by accident, his New Year's gift, neatly tied up in paper by gold thread, and with a renewal of gutturals and protestations backs himself out, and proceeds to his next house to call. This goes on in all directions throughout the morning, during which time the number of pipes smoked?each pipe, it should be borne in mind, consisting but of a couple of whiffs?and cups of wine drank by the visitors is simply incalculable. Tourists ltf Ancient Borne. The London Times gives the follow ing summary of the lecture delivered by Professor Mahaffy, on "Tourists and Traveling in the Early Days of the Roman Empire:" In ancient days, as now also, men traveled not simply as "explorers or merchants, but for the sake of travel. The necessary conditions for travel were general peace and good thoroughfares. Rome, from the Augustan age, provided general peace and good thoroughfares. The Pax Romana insured immunity from brigands by land and from pirates by sea. It gave unity of taxation and freedom of trade from the nuisance of fiscal frontiers. It blessed men with a common coinage, the Roman money being as eagerly coveted by the barbarians as the British sovereign is by the rmi.sf, tribes in our own days. "What a wonderful network of roads overspread the Roman empire was indicated hy their splendid remains. The lecturer sketched the live great arterial routes, one of which crossed tho Alps over one or other of the four passes to three centers-Augsburg, I Hheims and Orleans. The branch from Hheims made for [Boulogne, crossed the channel to Richborough and took Watling street from London to York, and even to the Pictish Wall. Of course the Roman ships could not vie with our ocean steamers, but (hey rivaled for speed our sailing packets of sixty years ago, as was proved by many curious instances recorded. St, Paul came from Reggio to Puteoli in a single day, a passage which takes even a fast steamer from twelve to fourteen hours now. From numerous cases it could be inferred that the Romans went in good sailors from six tc eight miles an hour. Apart from the now* yvctpm of Posting f i)| meterial functionaries and dispatches there was no lack either of commodious and swift vehicles or of cheap ant comfortable inns. These last had theii signboards, such as the Cock, (I real and Little Eagle, Snakes, the Crane etc. The landlord of the Mercury ani Apollo, at Marseilles, thus advertised his commercial houses: " Here Mer cury promises gain, Apollo health Spartianus the host guarantees boan and lodging. lie who now turns ii here will be the better for it. Stranger consider where you will put up." This signboard reminded us that many tliei as now traveled for health to the sea side resorts to seek a southern climate mineral waters, etc. Others travele< for study to such universities as thosi of Rhodes, Alexandria or Athens. Hu there were also crowds of mere tourists who traveled to see the world, am more in those days for what man ha< made it than as now,, to see nature ii all her wildness. Lrfg * The Constant Heart* Sadde songe is oat of season When birdea and lovers mate, When Bonle tosoule mustpaye swetfl toll And fate be joyned with fate; Sadde songe and wofull thought controle This constant heart of myne, And make newe love a treason Unto my Valentine. 'ij? How shall my wan lippes utter Their summons to the dedde, . 32 Where nowe repeate the promise swete, So farre my love hath fledd ? My onely love! What musicke fleet Shall crosse the walle that barres? To earthe the burthen mutter, Or singe it to the starrs. ^ Perchance she dwelles a spirite In btautye undestroyed Where brightest starrs are closely sett Farre out beyonde the voyd;. If Margaret be risen yet ?- -fej Her looke will hither turne, I knowe that she will heare it And all my trewe heart learne. uui ii no resurrection Unseale hor dwellingo low, If one so fayre must bide her there Until the trnmpe shall blowe, '"j2 Nathlesse shall Love outvie Deapaire, (Whilst constant heart is myne) And, robbed of her perfection, . Be faithfnll to her shrine At this blythe season bending He whispers to the clodde, To the chill grasse where shadowes passe' Vj And leaflease branches nodde; There keepe my watche, and crye?Alaa ^ That Love may not forget, That Joye must have swifte ending And Life be laggard yet I ?E. C. Stedman, in the Century. HUMOR OF THE DAT. Never look a gift mule at the heels ^ ?Hawkeye. Music, like firewood, is measured by the chord. Never count your chicken before it is catched.?Picayune. It is a curious thing, but when a 3 man slips up he always slips down. Young men who want to " see some- \ thing of the world " think they must stay out nights to do it.?Picayune. They say you can't freeze a cat. But ". I then you can try . the other extreme ' and make it hot for him.?Lowell Cit- v |j izen. "What's the use of getting up loan % exhibitions when the windows of pawnshops are open to all gazers??Free n v ? jrrtwf. An inch may be as good as a mile, but when a lady is purchasing dry goods she would rather have the mile ; as a general thing.?Puck. An old lady with several unmarried . M daughters feeds them on fish diet, be- f?g cause it is rich in phosphorus, and : v phosphorus is the essential thing in making matches. , ^ " Colonel," said a man who wanted / -V to make out a genealogical tree. " Colonel, how can I become thoroughly acquainted with my family history?5 ' -j "Simply by running for office," an swered the colonel?Oil City Derrick The clergyman in a certain town, as & the custom is, having published the banns of matrimony between two persons, was followed by the clerk's read ing the hymn beginning witn me ! words: " Mistaken souls, wao dream of Heaven." A Cincinnati crank predicts the destruction of the world this year. He says that a "flaming fire will come to j complete the dark picture;" butMt is impossible to see how the picture is f going to be dark if there is a "flaming fire" at the time. A flaming fire ought, to illuminate it considerably.?-Norrifr v town Herald. ' Five men leaned up against the b?r for a nightcap. One drank whisky because the doctor ordered it; two others drank a hot Scotch because they couldn't sleep a wink without it; a fourth drank brandy for the cholera morbus, and the fifth man drank whisky because he liked it. And there were only four liars in the'crowd.? Burlington Ha wkeye. \ ; v ~ ' . ' ? SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL. Wave lengths of the sounds emitted by a man's voice in ordinary conversa- * / " tion are from eight feet to twelve feet, and of women's two feet to wtif- feet per second. '..y ^ Grains of corn which had* teen exposed to the full vigor of the severest weather in Arctic expeditions have been found to sprout readily when ' ; brought back to warmer climates: Water, saturated with alum, is recommended by the veteran scientist, M. Dumas, as a speedy and effectual remedy for extinguishing fires. His proposition is based on the theory that the alum would coat the objects wetted with it, intercept the access of atmospheric oxygen, and thus stay combustion. The one-hundred-ton Armstrong breech-loader fired its proof-rounds with perfect success at the recent trials at La Spezia, the Italian naval ?ort. The highest charge fired was 76 pounds, with a projectile weighing 2,000 pounds, The muzzle velocity of the shot was 1,834 feet to the second, or a total energy of 40,600 tons. Algeria is beginning to cultivate on a large scale the wax plant. The fruit when gathered is put into a coarse ; bag, and when plunged into a vessel containing boiling water the wax soon rises to the surface, when itfe skimmed off and dried, and subsequently soldas^?? a substitute for beeswax, the chemical . composition of which it very closely resembles. The odor of the substanco is vprv acreeable. Taking the enumeration of the people of France in 1881 as a basis, M. Chervin shows that the increase since 187G lias been only twenty per 1,000, while in England it was 145, and in ' Germany so high as 574 per 1,000. Other things being equal, Maine and Xormandv should give a great increase of population, but the fact is that the number of the people is "conspicuously" diminishing. The strongest and most common of the several kinds of paper made in Japan is manufactured from the bark 1 of a shrub called mitsuma, which grows about a yard in height, blossoms in winter, and thrives on very poor 1 soil. "When the stem has reached its 1 full height it is cut off close to the ground, when offshoots spring up, 1 which are again cut as soon as they are large enough. ' miminro + rrirofFo hni t.llft ilt) lu aiiiaivij viiv ^n??<iv .... \ most astonishing power of any animal, says Dr. H. W. Mitchell. Inhabiting as 5 it floes ihe forest of Africa, and feeding i upon the houghs of trees, its great size [ makes it a most conspicuous object. Its most dreaded enemies are the stealthy lion and man. In the regions it most frequents are many dead and blasted j trunks of trees, and its mimicry is such that the most practiced eye has failed to distinguish a giraffe from a ' tree trunk or a tree trunk from a giraffe. ' It has even been said that a lion has 1 looked long and earnestly at a giraffe, in doubt whether it was a tree or not, s and then skulked away. 1 '? A Two-Headed Boy. i g Morton, 111., boasts a monstrosity in t the shape of a boy with two well( formed bodies united by the breast ^ j bone, one neck and one head. ;'l bodies face each ottier and the n and neck are set sideways ble trunk, so that the boy'sjj^^^^^H i on the right shoulder