The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, March 13, 1890, Image 1
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VOL. XLVIII. CAMDEN, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 1890. NO. 37. |
SECRETS. ,1
Wuere is the dearest place to lie? J,
The very best place to laugh or cry'
In the whole wide world, from east to west, |
The safest, warmest, coziest nest?
Only the babies know- The
glad, giad babies know!
"What is more precious to have aud to hold?
Worth more than its weight in rubies or gold? !
The fairest, purest, loveliest thing
That earth can give and heaven can bring? '
Only the mothers know?
The glad, giad mothers know!
?Emt.rt C. Dowd, in Young People. j
A LITTLE MAVERICK.
All that hot August day there had
been a cloud of dust in the east like a
column of smoke. No breath of air
stirred it. nor did it seem to advance a
yard. The sky was n steely blue, the air :
quivered like the white heat from a caulflrnn
"H molten mnfnl Tn thp prisn nnrl
dry buffalo grass my raid insect life gave
to the simmering air a dreamy, monoto- ,
nous sound like the humming of fas-away
bees.
The afternoon passed, darkness gath
ered, and with the rising moon came a j
cool wind from off the snow-crested i
-- - peaks. The cloud of dust subsided, and j
revealed a line of moving, white-covered i
wagons*
As the caravan drew near, a gaunt ,
prairie wolf rose suddenly out of the i
grass, gave a long, dolorous howl, and j
fled across the plain. After him, as if |
they had risen from the earth by magic, ]
went a pony and rider, a bronzed, grizzled I
old man, as gaunt, and evidently dread- i
ing the new-comers as much, as the wolf. I
The caravan, numbering thirty wagons, j
went into camp in the form of a hollow
souarc. the neonle and animals inside the
barrier of wagons. The sound^of voices, !
the smell of cooking, the laughter of i
children and the red glow of the campfires
made a bit of welcome .life in the
, Bolcmu land, breaking the soundless '
monotony of centuries.
Later, when the fires were low, and
when the only noises were the champing
of tbo animals and the tread of the sentry
on watch, a strange, elfish figure rm out
of the stockade and began to dance in
the moonlight?a girl of twelve or thereabouts,
with big, sparkling eyes and short, \
black curls flying over her pretty brow. J
A bearded face was thrust out under a
wagon cover, and a gruff but not unkindly
voice called
"Com' in here, you Maverick, want
the Injuns to git ye?"
The child laughed mockingly, and !
continued her dance. After the third |
call the big man jumped out of the wagon j
and ran after her. When she could run
no longer she dropped like a log, re!
maininc stiff and still, while he carried
her to the wagon.
"Gritty, ain't she, mann?''he said, as
-- the child rolled over like a stick of wood.
The lady addressed was a tall, thin \
person with a wrinkled face, sharp black
eyes behind spectacles, corkscrew curls,
and a habit of wearing little shoulder i
capes in the hottest weather. She was a
New England school teacher going West
to better herself.
I "'Gritty'is Western, I presume, Mr.
Chase," said the lady, Miss Mary Ann j
Reed. "What on earth do you call her {
a Maverick for?" Miss Reed clicked her j
needles viciously. She -knitted all day,
jolting in a corner of the wagon, a picture
of martyrdom.
"In my kentry, Texas," said Chase,
"they calls them stray young cattle tha', j
3 don't git branded Mavcrick\s:<hey don't
b'long to no herd, an' them that finds
gits 'em."
"She's got folks in Denver,'" said Miss i
Reed
1"J dunno," whispered the man, with
- an anxious look toward the sleeping h
child. "A feller that met me t wo days
ago on the east-bound wagon-train told
me her oa aud ma hed died suddenlv.an'
the childrcu hed scattered, an' he'd 11
never hecred o' Janet at all. Her i
gran'marm hed kep'her from a baby, an'
the old lady dyin', Janet's unelc jest;
shipped her off to Denver where her
folks was livin'. Don't seem nobody to
take her."
"Why didn't you send her back with
these folks?" asked Miss Reed.
r'~" "'Cause they was only harf way, an' !i
- was short for grub; they wouldn't take !
her." i!
Yet the Maverick was u grgg^^PT'htr^
-^4fe~j,0u,rne'y. Every oncTliked her, and 1
welcomed her bright presence to their
wagons. Around the camp tires even ; 1
the men gathered to hear her sing the j ?
quaint old hymns her grandmother had i
f taught her. She held tired babies till '
her little arms were numb, she told ! 1
stories to weary children, and was a
ministering augel at every wagon?at the last
one in the train most of all. <
|*t' This wagon had joined the train in 1
M Missouri, aud belonged to an unfortunate 1
||| family that Chase called "Pikes." The ! i
father, a sullen, sickly man, drove the j
H four lean oxen: the mother, ha.f-dead
from malaria, seldom lifted her head from
her bed; and the nine children, practically
orphans, took care of themselves, and of
a little, motherless girl, sent to her lather i
P? in Denver.
h mis Daov, nose, was a merry littic
* creature of three, beautiful and winning, !
and much bked. But the days were toilI
Bome oues, and as the Browns had charge
of her, no one interfered, though many of i
the party wondered who could have !1
trusted her with them.
The two youuger Browns, homely, 1 (
faded little souis. were faithful guar- i
dians over her. The other children were
unruly and rude, but these two seemed i
like some good old folks who had lived
i out well-rounded lives and been trans- ; i
lated back to earth to begin over again. !
To these children Janet's presence was
the one happiness of their day, nor,'
could she could tell stories enough to j i
satisfy them. Once Janet, coming unobserved,
heard the youngest Pike teb1
ing baby Kosc, who was cross, one of i
her own stories.
"You sorrcrful little things," cried:'
Janet, "can't you make 'cm up vour- i
selves of yo'ur own ?" :
For a week, at night, the sentry at the i
stockade saw far-off, black, moving
specks ou the horizon, and weary
and anxious were the hours of darkness,
early the start, eager the hope j
to get on without the attack. Each man |
would mutter in the gray dawn, as hag- I
gard and white, he harnessed his team, j
Thank God, another night of peace, no j
Indians yet!"
"Janet." said Chase one morning, i
when she camo to watch him harness his j
team, "cf them Injuns comes an' gits |
the better o' us you git on that ere leetlc j
gray pony, Nance, thar, an' take Rose j
an' set out fur them low hills 'cross j
thar." ?
"Nance likes me," smiled Janet, "I j
feed her my bread."
"All of us like ye, ye Maverick, yer so j
chipper alius," Chase said, admiringly. !
"The Injuns shan't git vc cf we kin help '
it."
That day a young wife was sick, and '
all the long hours Janet tended the wail- j
ing baby its mother was too ill to care j
for. She looke'd back at the line of j
wagons ana tnougnr 01 dudj nose, iu.it
she loved best of nil.
"Those good little Pikes will sec to j
her," she thought, hopefully. But the ;
two little Pikes were weary that day? j
they lay in a Grange stupor, those pathetic
guardians ? and no one noted |
them. Locked in each other's arms they |
lay unheeded, and one was drifting away I
beyond earthly aid.
At the night halt Janet, freed from
her charge, ran for Rose. Then the news
flew from wagon to wagon, the child was
gor.c and no one had seen her all day. |
Miss Reed remembered seeing her run- j
ning among the sunflowers at breakfast- '
time.
"Ain't nobody going for her?" cried j
Janet, in agony. She ran to each wagon, !
to be met with the same answer: "It i
cannot be done."
"You see, Janet," said Chase, a sob in !
his voice, "there's fifty women an' chil- j
dren here an' only thirty men to guard
'era; there may be hundreds of Injuns out j
there. We daren't leave camp or they'll
know it, an' we've searched all the plains
with a glass an' there's no sign of
her." ,
"But tcr-morrer?" choked Janet.
l ml x 1- - _ 1 _ s
anc 11 not oe u-wauuerin , uuss\?t
don't arsk me to tell ye, but there's Injuns
an' perarie wolves."
"We must, only tell her father she
died?never the wholo truth," said Miss
Reed, coming to the wagon for her rubbers,
which she wore on the dryest
nights.
Chase walked away and sat down by the
tire. "No, don't talk no more, Janet," i
as the child went to him, "it aren't no j
use. I'm the only old Injun lighter in
camp.' I've growed gray at it. I've got 1
ter take the lead."
Janet went quickly* to her wagon. By j
the light of a flickering candle she ,
printed, iu a round, childish hand, on a i
bit of paper, these few words:
Chase, I am goin' to find Rose au' j
taxe Nance. I aintuogoodin fightin' Injuns ;
an' I heard you say my folks was desd. i
Don't you come for me 'cause they need you. j
They don't me that is only a Maverick.
"Janet."
She pinned this note to his blanket, j
then went softly out in the starlight to j
the corner where Nance stood. Fear- <
lessly she blanketed the animal, fastened 1
the surcingle, then led her quietly out to J
au opeu space between two wagons.
She looker! hack nt. the rlrinrr ramn- i
fires, the groups of wen sleeping in the j
light of them, their guns by their sides, \:
the silhouettes of the women against the !1
wagon curtains. Miss Reed's prim and \
queer with the funny curls. How safe ;
it was here, how lonely and dreadful '
outside! She climbed on the pony and ;
turned Iter head toward the east; the |
animal, thinking of her home, struck into j
a run. The sentinal saw Nance disap-j'
pear in the darknees, but did not note ' 1
the little rider.
"That onery gray pony as cint been j
worked all the way hey got loose an' 1
gone," he said to the crowd of excited
men who ran out at the noise.
Every unusual rattling of gravel under 1
Nance's hoofs quickened the beating of i
Janet's heart; every dark object was to ;
her a beast of prey; every sound, the ! <
coming of the red men. She thought of <
the old-time stories of Indian warfare j 1
and cruelty her grandmother had told <
her. of the horrors of the plains the men 1;
spoke of by the camp-fires. j J
"But I'm the only one in all that train i
rs hasn't anybody to care^og iTP', ~|
IwicJf OTCtcfV? "There was only nie to 1
be spared." 1
When the moon rose it showed her no '
living object on the great plains. The '
camp was far out of vision, and not even ;
* spark from its fires glimmered on the ;
still air. Absolute quiet and solitude;;
the world seemed asleep.
At the top of a little rise in the road 1
Tanct halted to rest her tired horse, and :
once more to look around the lonelv i
land. The quivering of Nance startled 1
her. and peering ahead, Janet saw a sight (<
she never afterward forgot. ! 1
There in the moonlit road stood baby !
Rose, her yellow curls dishevelled, her 1
face tear-stained and dirty, her gown I !
torn, her little feet bare and bleeding. i
She still clung to her flowers that had led i
her astray long hours before. ;
Near the child a lean gray wolf sat on i
his haunches, regarding her with a pro- | j
found and melancholy stare.
At the sight of the pony the wolf gave i
a weird howl, turned and trotted swiftly i
across the plains. The child,with a wild '
cry, ran forward.
"I knew you'd turn, Janie. I lost all |
day an' hungy an' the doggie coined an' i
singed. I had a doggie once, Bounce, |
where mamma was. Oh, I want my
mamma!"
Janet held her close, kissed her tears
away, and theu she gave her the food she 1
had brought?her own suppe.\ She 1
lifted her to the pony's back, led Nance ''
to some low hills that might give them ! 1
shelter, and there waited for daylight. ' I
"I never knew nights was so long be- '
fore!" sighed Janet, holding Rose in her . '
arms. "Nance is laid down an' asleep.
Only me awake, an' I must keep watch <
for wolves an' Injuns. Now the moon's i
goin , too, an' it gets lonesomer. I'll '
say all the hymns I know to keep me !1
awake an' brave." ! <
Try as she would her head would
droop, the words grow confused anrl
weary. As the moon sank and the chill
increased, the shivering child covered
Rose with her own skirt, and then to
keep \^irm and awake walked up nnd
down beside hem
"What, was it, that low, trampling
sound, coining louder and nearer so fast?
Janet caught up Rose and ran hack to the
hill; the horse followed, trembling in
every limb. Just beyond the hill in a
furious gallop came a mass of horsDS,and
dimly amid the fog of dust about; them
Janet saw the forms of their Indian
riders.
x "Joe said Injuns was wuss'n wolves!"
sobbed Janet. "Dear Lord, let them go
on an' not find us!"
The Indians passed on their path,
marked by clouds of sand that helped
the darkness mercifully to hide the children.
"They're gone!" cried Janet; but
* -- J- -ii.. -1 T
naraiy were me woras uuereu wueu
there came another louder trampling, the
click of arms against saddles, and more
horses?hundreds of them it seemed to
.Tanet?and then, bringing joy to her
heart, an American voice calling: "Forward
!" as the cavalrymen pressed on after
the Indians.
The danger having passed, the tired
child fell asleep with Rose in her arms.
When she woke it was bright sunlight.
Iler dazed eyes saw Nance feeding near
by, Rose running toward her, and an oldish
man, with a gray beard and bronzed
face, looking at her kindly. By his side
was the lean wolf Rosy had called a dog.
"I kDew it was a tame one!" cried
Janet.
"In course you did," smiled the old
mnn. "Me an' ray gal, Ann Reed, fell
out twentyodd year ago 'cause I owned
a tame b'ar. She went ter Bosting,
turned schoolmarm, an' I emigrated to
Iewy."
Janet, very wide-eyed, told hira about
Miss Reed, who was one of their wagonparty.
Gaining courage, she also gave
hoi own history and Rose's as for as she
knew.
"Wal, you be a powerful talker!"
cried the old man. "Now come eat, an'
then we'll ketch up with the caravan.
Say, though, sis, would you say, 'lowin'
fur age an' my whiskers', Ann Reed aint
no better-lookin' then me!"
"You're both nice for old folks," said
Janet, politely.
He led them to a dugout in the hills,
where they found plenty to cat, and then
they set out for the wagons, Janet with
Rose on Nance, the wolf following the
old man's bronco.
"The row last night, sis," he said,
"was Uncle Sam's sojers arter Injuns,
same as has been hangin' round yer train.
Wonder how them serious ways of Ann
Reed's would 'a' took with Injuns?"
At night they reached the campingplace
of the wagons, where there was
great rejoicing?Chase, especially, coming
often to stroke Janet's curls,and mutter:
"Ef you aint a borned hero, I never
knowedone! The stuff of a pioneer!"
Jahct's only sadness was that one little
grave where the youngest "Pike'' lay;
the child had died the night before.
How many nameless graves,some pathetic,
tiny ones, there used to be on that greai i
pathway to the "West!
When Janet, with Rose in her arms,
climbed into her wagon, the hermit approached
and said, mysteriously: "It's
the same Ann Reed, sis, an' she's there
a-pettin' that wolf like he were a poodle
dog. Aint set agin 'em no more."
Two miles from Denver they met a
horseman so pale and anxious they knew
who he wa^ even before he called j
hoarsely:
"Is my baby with you?"
"Aye, she be," answered Chase, "but
we'd met ye with blank faces an' sorrerful
hearts but for Janet here."
Then he told the story, and the father
got down from his horse to kiss her first
DCiore ms own cnna.
"I'm well on, Joe," he said, brokenly.
"I can do well for her, and you say she
lias no one. I will have two daughters
instead of one."
"You aint a Maverick no more, Janet,*'
iried Joe, something shining in his honest
jyes, "an' there aint one of us but will
bid ye God-speed. Ef ever a lone little
:hild was worth a father's love an' care,
rou be, an' the blcssin' of nil us that
leuowed ye goes with ye."
Andjus slie.j^^^Tanfr^eTfather,
trftecT froJffthe companions of the long
wagon journey, they followed her with i
loving, tearful eyes, that little Maverick
who had found a happy nome.? Youth'i
Companion.
-?MP? i
- Naming a Tothi.
When F. H. Heald settled on the
Machado Ranch, near San Diego, Cal.,
?nd began to build Elsinore, then unnamed,
he was puzzled about the christening.
What should he call the coming
>itv ho thr> lnlrp and enrinrre? "Finullr
ujvJ "j ,l*"v '"ow * *mw,V
lie choose Lake something or other?a
long compound?but the postoffice authorities
would not have it. They wrote
Mr. Heald that one word was enough
and sent him a list to choose from. He
took Elsinorc, and a few days afterward
innouueed the fact to old Senor Machudo.
The aged flon was for a moment
nonplussed. "El Senor," he said;
"which senor do you mean, yourself or
myself;" "Yourself, of course," replied
the diplomatic Heald. And to this day
the .Machados believe that the name
Elsinorc is but a gringo corruption of
"El Senor," the senor who owned the
origiual property.?Argonaut.
Rings on Their Toes.
George B. Uextcr, of Boston, when at
the St. Nicholas the other day, exhibited
among his friends some gold and
silver rings of very artistic design and
finish but of uncommonly large size for
linger rings. Mr. Dexter explained that
the rings were not for the lingers, but
the toes, and were the kind worn in
Algiers. He had secured them on a resent
trip abroad. The articles were exirnples
of native skill and the workmanship
would compare very favorably with
the best work of the most skilled jcwclsrs
anywhere.?Cincinnati Times-Star,
THE ASSAY OFFICE.
HOW GOLD AND SILVER ORE 13
REFINED.
A Full Description of the Process and
the Instrument*- Used?$100,
000,000 in Bullion in
One Room.
On Wall street, to the cast of the massive
and imposing Sub-Treasury, stands
an odd building of white marble, flush
with the street. In architectural design
it resembles one of those colonial wooden
structures that are still to be seen in certain
parts of New England. Its staid
simplicity seems out of place, situated as
it is in the very centre of all financial activity.
The quiet elegance c>f its front is
in singular contrast w?*h the rear of the
building, which is of brick, and built in
the style of an old JDutch burgomaster's
bouse.
r._ ..If
SITEBtXTEXDEXT MASOX.
In this peculiar building on "Wall
street is located the plant of the United
States Assay Office, a branch of the Government
the importance of which cannot
be overestimated. It is the Mecca of all
the touiists and sightseers who visit the
metropolis, and its workings tire matters
of the keeuesi; interest to; every government
of civilized people on the face of
the earth. Its tests, when officially announced,
stand in all parts of the world
without a challenge, and in the domain
of business, wherein the precious metals
hold much sway, its word is incontrovertible.
? '
But if the famous old house is curious
outside, its various departments within
-itll C J -A. * T -
are sun idoic so. ouperjnieuuent. .uason,
who has been in qhargc of the
office almost since its iiweption, is the
authority for the statement, that no photographs
have ever been ta^en within its
walls. True, magazine articles have
been written about if, but tfce illustrations
used therein were simply sketches '
taken here and there of some particular
objects upon which men were at work.
THE BOILER DEPARTMENT.
Through Superintendent Mason's kindness,
however, the photographer of this
paper was allowed to take all the pictures
he wanted save one. In the Assay
Office, as in Bluebeard's palace, there is
vnr\m into Trlaiola f Vi a imiKIip miict'
"ut iwwm iuiv t? uiuu uuv/ |/nunv luuou
not look through the medium of the
c&mem. Of course, that was the room
of which a photograph was most desired,
but Mr. Mason thought it best that it bo
psssed. He thought it would bo ill advised
to furnish enterprising burglars
with photographs of a room containing
over ?100,000,000 in solid gold and
silver which is only protected by half a
dozeu massive steel doors and a small
arniv of watchmen, fully armed. But
for the information of such as may contemplate
trying to force their way
into this impregnable stronghold, it
might be well to say that the bars of gold,
piled up like building stone inawall^are
so
retried. if'tfieopportunity to try to take j
them away were allowed ; so it is safe to
presume that they will remain where j
they arc. well guarded and in absolute ,
security, as they have been for thirty ,
vears past. I
TIIK GRKAT HYDRAULIC PRES6.
There was a quantity of Mexican silver !
bullion received at the Assay Office the j
other day, and its peculiar shape and the j
size of the bars were such as to call forth j
comment from those who handled it. The i
bars, or slabs, were about twenty i:iches J
long, an inch or more in thickness, and j
eight inches wide. Each of the bars was
curved like a barrel stave. This pc- |
cuiarify in shape. Mr. Graliaui of tho I
weighing room said, was to facilitate the j
packing of the bullion on the backs of
burros. The bars contained silver and
gold in unequal weights. They were
very heavy, some of them weighing eight
or nine kilogrammes. The process of refining
and assaying this metal is an interesting
one.
Jn the weighing room, which is in |
charge of .Air. Graham, stand an immense j
pair of scales, towering up to a height of 1
perhaps ten feet and stretching out their
gigantic arms fully as far laterally. The I
scales, although immense in size, arc so j
delicate, that they will accurately weigh '
l-100th of at* ounce or 10,000 ounces. _. j
I After the silver bars had been weighed
they were taken to a number of furnaces
in at other department, where the weight
of silver was added to half its weight of
gold, making a mixture of cne-third gold
aud two-thirds silver. When in a molten
state the workmen crew forth the white
hot crucibles from the furnaces, dipped
into them with a shallow ladle, and with
a deft twist of the hand tossed the
molten metal into vat* filled with water.
So expert .are these men in this work
that the metal, when removed from the
water tanks, is in thin, curly shavings,
much like the turnings from a lathe.
After the silver and gold shavings, if
such they may be called, have been allowed
time to cool they are taken to the
top of the building, in the rear, where
the boiling vats are located. They are
great cauldrons of copper, set in masonry,
and contain perhaps, forty or fifty gallons
of a solution of sulphuric acid. The
metal shavings are placed in these boiling
cauldrons in proper quantity and
boiled for a long time. Then the decoctioD,
which is of a bright bluish-green,
is syphoned off to vats on the floor below,
where it is put through another and another
boiling until it has been thoroughly
cooked seven times. Then it is decanted
off into other receptacle* lined with copper
aud having suspended across them
bars of sheet copper. The copper collects
the sulphur from the bath and precipitates
the gold while the silver, still
in solution, is carried off to other vats.
It is put through a number of chemical
processes until it is finally precipitated,
and the solution in which it last was is
decanted off. The gold precipitate looks
like coarse dirty building sand, and if a
pile of it were dumped in the street in
front of the Assay Office it might lie there
for a month before any one, other than a
mineral expert, would think of touching
it. Anci if the silver precipitate were
. THE MELTING ROOM. dumped
side by side with it, Superintendent
Mason would as likely as not be arrested
for throwing ashes into Wall street.
But the golden sand and the silver
ashes have yet many hands to pass
through before the office is ready to repoit
as to the quality and fineness of the
metal. It is next saturated with hot
water and allowed to stand half an hour.
Then it is shoveled into a copper-lined
box on wheels, and carted off to the
press room to be made into cheese.
Queer stuff to make cheese of, it i>-true,
but if the average corner grpeeTTiad just
one of those cheegfis-itfstock, he could
well afford to retire from business.
In the press-room is a hydraulic-hydrostatic
engine of immense power. Beside
it stands the hydraulic press, whose
power is so great, yet so delicately applied,
that a man's skull might be gently
crushed and no abrasion of the skin be
perceptible. The terrific power can be
instantly released as well as applied. It
is n dangerous machine to handle, but in
skillful hands it is a faithful servant and
does its work well. C. G. Brunner, a
veteran in the service, and who has been
*S&ttT2?G' FURNACES.
in charge of this department from the
day the Assay Office was instituted, stood
at the throttle of his engine. Me had
just filled the drum in the press with the
saturated gold sand and was in the act
of applying.the power when the visitor j
entered. The drum in the press is twelve !
inches in diameter, and fourteen inches
deep. It was filled to the top and packed
tightly when the solid piston head entered
it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly,
the drum ascended and the piston was
forced into it. The gauge on the engine
began to register the pressure.
Assuming the cake of metal to be
a trifle less than a foot in
diameter and to contain 113 square inches
of area on its upper surface, the
gauge showed that it was receiving a
frightful squeezing. The hand pointed
at 6000 pounds to the area when the
' ' ? J.! -U-lf _
machinery had oeen in inouuu mm a
minute. Thirty seconds later 10,000
pounds pressure was recorded, yet the
engine ran merrily along without a
squeak or a jar. There wasn't a sound
to indicate that, the powerful machine
was doing anything beyond running its
own fly wheel. Then 20,000 pounds
and 30,000 pounds were recorded aud
still the steel fluger moved on. It was
almost agonizing to watch it. The pressure
ot that terrible engine can almost
be felt in one's imagination; 40,000, then
50,000, and the grim engineer lets his
hand steal gcutlv to the throttle of the
great machine. It is now running a
trifle slower, but just as quietly as before.
The dome full of golden sand has risen
almost a foot, and it seems that there cannot
be a drop of water left in it, yet that
merciless machine keeps on, and the finger
on the dial marks more and more
pressure. It has reached 56,000 pounds,
or more than 500 pounds per square
inch. What steam boiler was ever made
that could withstand such pressure? yet
this little brass cylinder in the press had
withstood that awful power of twenty
tons thousands upon thousands of times.
- /
The engine was stopped and the drum j
was released. As it dropped down of ita
own weight a glittering disc of gold was
revealed beneath it. It looked for all the
world like a bright, rich cheese. It was
weighed and placed in a drying oven to
destroy the last traces of moisture.
"Thatcheese," remarked Mr. Brunner,
"you can have for $36,000 if you will
carry it home."
The silver granules are treated in the
same mauner in fhis room, and when all
are thoroughly dried and baked they go
to the melting room on the first floor of
the main building, where the beautiful
cheeses are broken up with a sledge
hammer and melted in gigantic crucibles
of plumbago. The molten metal is run
into bars, weighed when cooled, numbered
t stamped and registeicd, and at
last, after a portion has been assayed in
the room above, is stored away in the
big steel vaults to remain until it is
I1CCUCU ill LUC! I1UL1U? 1U1 UUlUlUg UI UJ
manufacturers for raakiDg watch ca6es or
jewelry
In the assay rooms everything is conducted
upon a very minute scale. The
small samples, taken from various lots of
metal in the raeltirg room, are here submitted
to the testa by which their fineness
is determined. Little crucibles made
from bone dust are used to melt the
metal. Whatever weight is used for assaying?usually
only a fraction of an
ounce?is represented as 1000 parts. The
weight is taken to the l-1000th of a
grain, and after the assay has been, made
and the metal tested in the various technical
ways in vogue there, the residue is
weighed. The missing parts represent
base metals or dirt, and are deducted
from the whole as originally weighed.
Gold or silver therefore, that is .999 fine,
contains but one part in a thousand of
base metal, alloy or dirt. And this is
what some of those bars of Mexican bullion
shewed when they were put through
the various processes herein described.?
New York Sun.
Odd. Wandering Rocks.
Near the village of San Jose, Peru, on
the shores of the great Lake Titicaca?
the loftiest lake in the whole world, are
three large pillars of stone, of which we
give a picture. They are of unusual
height, and the condors that perch on
the top of them add by their gaunt figures
and black plumage to the weird effect of
the solitude.
On one of these huge blocks the features
TiArirc %?r? 1 T> T ACIT TITTf iPi
* XXXXi IiUOA.3 unuu ^
of a human face arc cut, and the others
are covered with designs of various kinds;
and they all have some reference to sunworship.
The pillars were probably engraved
by the original natives of the
laud, who are now known only by these
and other relics in this quarter of Peru.
They are supposed to have been a highly
civilized race. It is not believed that
the people brought these stones to their
present position. The rocks arc those
called "erratic," or wandering stones,
and were probably left by a glacier.
The Natural Home of tln? Human Race.
Man instinctively turns to the tropics
with a sure inspiration, for his body
knows, if his brain does not, that here,
under the brilliant sun, here in the warm
southland, man originated. It was Grant
Duff, I think, who recently wrote that
no man had been liberally educated till
he had passed some part of his life in the
lxopig&. ffeffr-Qne feels as if admitted to
nature's laboratory,*- Jifixi she began her
experiments which we call'^volution, the
result of which was man. Down in tbc~
tierra calicnte, the hot country, air,
earth and water teem with life. There is
inexhaustible vitality derived from the
ardent sun. Agassiz records that the
Brazilian tribes are models of perfect
human form, for the sun is a sculptor,
shaping everything to beauty. One sees
how true this is when looking at the men
and women of the tierra calicnte. Even
a little higher up in the tierra templada,
or temperate country, one sees clearly the
effects of the constant sunshine. How
supple and strong arc the shapely women!
How broad chested and vigorous the
well-nourished men! Where grow the
sugar cane and the coffee tree, where
flourish the fig and platano, there man
also increases in strength and in physical
perfection.
In the tropics the existence of "nerves"
is unknown. What a jolly good thing it is
for a tired Northerner to lie for hours on
abench in a sun-warmed Mexican plaza
? .1 1-*1,~ fV?o nnrfnmpfl nir! Anfl I
Jinu Ui CML11U 1u lilv. j^vi auu?v? .
how, after days of this most pleasant
regimen, a man begins to feel that it is
good to live. lie forgets the cares of his
business or professional life; he learns,
under the magic iuflucncc of the tropics,
that human speculation in philosophy
and theology arc not worth the price of
the paper thpy are printed on, and he
finds his night's sleep sweet and refreshing.?Boston
Herald.
A young man may have the worst I
memory on record, but he will not forget |
to remove the price mark from the pres- j
cnt he buys for his best gh^-if the article
cost loss than Olih On the other I
hand, he may have the best memory in
the world, but if the present costs $25 the
price mark is inadvertently overlooked.
?Horrisloion Herald.
i Forty thousand communications are
daily made by telephone in London over
the wires of the National Telephone Company.
THREE TRAVELERS? r
Three travelers met In Brander Pass,
By the bubbling Brander spring;.
They shared their cake and their venison, "J
And they talked of many a thing?
Of books, of song and foreign lands,
Of strange and wandering lives,
And by and by, in softer tones, ' ^
They spoke of their homes and wives.
"I married the Lady o' Logan Brae,"
Said one, with a lofty air: j"There
isnn in a' the North countree .
A house with a better share
Of gold and gear, and hill and lock,
Of houses and farms to rent; .
There's many a man has envied mo
And I'm raair than weel content."
"Dream of a woman as bright as day,"
The second traveler said.
"Dream of a form of perfect grace,
Of a noble face and head, .
Of eyes that are as blue as heaven, v I
. Of flowing nut-brown hair;
That is my wife, and, though not rich,
Oh, she is wondrous lair r
The third one said: "I have a wife,
She is neither rich nor fair;
She has not gold, nor gear, nor land,
Nor a wealth of nut-brown hair;
But, oh! she loves me! and her love '
Has stood through every test.
Beauty and gold are good, but, friends, 1
We know that love is beat."
They filled their cups in the spring again,
And they said, right heartily:
"Here's to the loving, faithful wife/*^ I
Wherev r her home may be!"
And soon t \oy took their different ways,
One thought in each man's breast: x
"Beauty is g od, and gold is good,
But true lo e is the best."
PITFaND POINT.' 1
A stovepipe?The song of the kettle. \
A watch sold at cost is par tickularly
a bargain.?Merchant Traveler.
Necessity is the mother of invention,.'
but many inventions are orphans.
The family stove-pipe was never meant
' r
lOr & pipU OI pCOVU. ?iM/j/Mvlican.
It is the busy chimney-sweep who ap~pears
in a fresh soot every day.?Boston
Courier.
Appearances arc against some people,
end so are their disappearances.?Texas
Biftings.
If a rooster were as big as his crow, a.
whole fumily could live on him for six
months.?Washington Star.
^ Boutonger .fe "'"-J '
The living
in a dime museum because he is in rc^si/d
circumstances.?Picayune.
When the gate's a-jar it is natural that
it should be considered a proper place for
sweet-meets.? Tankers Gazette.
A manufacturer of artificial limbs
should never be forgetful. It is his business
to re-member.? Washington Post.
A man who plays the clarionet has
some ground to regret that the season f^r "
reed birds is over.?Merchant Traveler, j
The girls, since first the world began, {<
Have always sought the ideal man;
But when they captured their ideal
They found him more ideal than real.
- There are persons that it is not safe to
hold out the olive branch of peace to,:
11 niece rnn have a club in the other
hand. <
It is said that it takes three generations^
make a gentleman. The recipe
fails -when the third generation is a girl.'
Binghamton Leader.
They say that copper is so cheap it scarcely
pays to mine it more,
Eut ordinary common sense seems just as
rare as heretofore.
?Washington Star. !
He?"To live byyoui side, mein Fraulein,
I forsake everything?parents, honors,
titles, fortune." She (innocently)?
"Then, pray, what is there left forme?"
?Easier Nuch.rich.ten.
Kind Gentleman (picking up a boy)?
"That was an awful hard fall, my young
man. Why didn't you cry?" Small Boy.
?"I didn't know anybody
ing."?New York Sun.
"Shall I play-you this little^^^^^^^^^^H
?Wv^sked, sweetl^Hfinfig^^^^H
beg your pardon, '^i? srnd,
"but the fact is, I doh*^^BBBK9[^MM^H
Spanish."?Boston Courier.
Mabel (to Maud, who has just looked
through Mabel's MSS.)?"You didn't
know I was an authoress, Maud?" Maud
?"No; and if you take my advice you
won't let anybody else, either."?Har~ ' )
vard Lampoon. /
Gentleman (to tramp)?"What, you
here again? It hasn't been a week since
I gave you a half dollar." Tramp?
"Just a week, sir; but great heavens
you don't expect a man to live a year on
fifty cents, do you?" ,
Unsuspecting Mother?"I can't imagine
where all the cake goes." Guilty
Eihol (anxious to avert suspicion)?"It
must be the kid." Unsuspecting Mother .0 &
?"The kid! What kid?" Guilty Ethel
?"I don't know, but I heard Uncle
Harry say to papa: 'That kid takes the
cake.'"?Time. 1
A Photographic Hat.
Hcrr Ludcrs, of Gorlitz, has patented
a photographic apparatus that can be carried
in the hat. This novel bead-dress
contains, besides the machine, a number
of prepared plates. In the front part of
the hat there is a small circular opening
nbout the size of a small shirt button behind
which the lens is fixed. By means
-' ? -4-'"~ /Mifci/la r\f f Vin V*of {for
UI H. SLllII^ Uil cue UUW1UV w* uuv u?u *v?>
wearer, whenever he finds himself enjoy-1
ing a pleasant view or is in contact with,
a person whose features he wishes to preserve,
can, without attracting attention,
instantaneously take the picture and finish
it up at leisure.?St. Louis Republic.
The first lighthouse on this continent
of which there is any record was built at
the entrance of Boston Harbor in 1716,
at the expense of the colony of Massachusetts
Bay. It was supported by a
lighthouse due of one penny per ton. on
all vessels passing.