The Bamberg herald. (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, September 26, 1901, SUPPLEMENT TO THE BAMBERG HERALD, Image 6
ARIZONA AS A HEALTH RESORT. "
FOUR JUOSTHS OF SUMXER AND
THE BEST OF THE TEAR SPBISG.
The Beat Results are to he Attained for
Consumptives by Tenting on the Desert
Ittelf? Those who Brave the Midsummer
Heat are Said to Derive the Greatest
Benefit.
The extreme aridity of Arizona, which
has caused the downfall of many a welllaid
agricultural scheme and made the
sun-kissed Territory notorious, is one of
its great "merits as a health resort, says
the Xew' York Sun.
It is a generally accepted theory nowadays
that the white plague is to be
stamped out only by the segregation of its
victims and an absolutely out-of-door life
for them. The first condition is manifestly
impossible in the crowded city and the
second is feasible only where mother nature
is most beneficent, where the sun
never goes into hiding for months at a
time, where the breezes are not too wanton
and where the night air is as dry and free
xruui vapvis as iiic uaj.
All these conditions for the absolute cure
or the amelioration of consumption are to
be found at their best in the Southwest,
particularly in the Salt River Valley,
Ariz. Within its area of 500,000 acres,
fruitful as the Garden of the Gods, so soon
as irrigation is applied, there are miles of
desert where the climatic conditions for
the relief of all pulmonary troubles are
perhaps unexcelled in this country or
abroad. Here the transition of the seasons?and
there are but two, four months
of summer and the rest of the year a perpetual
spring?is slow and gradual. The
skies are a cloudless blue, the air so sweet
that it can almost be tasted, and the
average humidity so low as to be inconceivable
to the sweltering resident of the
coast and lake regions.
For December and January the mockingbird
warbles his clear-throated epithalamium
to his brown mate in the cottonwoods?the
full orchestra of red-winged
blackbirds follows the lead of its sable
precentor who sits up on a pepper bough
and conducts his followers through a
chorus of Wagnerian melody, the shirtwaist
girl swings in her hammock as com
fortably as m an Jt^astern june, ana ine
small boy beats the sides of his burro or
Indian pony -with bare brown feet. Picnics
are the order of the day. In February
the almond orchards, which rim the
desert's northern edge, burst into a mass
of pink white bloom, the pomegranates
are budded and the blossoming orange
groves send forth their fragrance for miles
around.
In the colder lands the invalid would be
shivering in furnace-heated rooms, fearful
of every draught. Here he spends his
days and often his nights in the open, the
starry heavens his canopy. The nights
throughout the winer are cool, sometimes
cold. There was one week last January
when ice formed in the water bucket in
the tent, and a hot stone for the feet,
night caps and bed socks were more than
welcome. Blankets are a necessity all the
winter. Yet with the rising of the sun
genial spring again asserts itself. This
difference of temperature between night
and day is possibly the one exception to
perfect climatic conditions. Forewarned,
however, is forearmed, and with plenty of
bedding and warm nigni garments there
is no danger of taking cold.
It is a strange thing about this desert
life, that> it has a charm which grows with
acquaintance?and one who has spent some
time in the desert is said to be never quite
happy elsewhere. The summers are hot.
Tnere need be no reservations about that
statement. For days last July the thermometer
registered anywhere from 99 degree
to 117 degrees right^ along?but the
absence of humidity made the heat much
easier to bear than the close, muggy devitalized
air of New York and Brooklyn.'
There were no sunstrokes, no heat prostrations.
Ranchers went about their work
suffering no inconvenience.
Although the majority of health-seekers
turn their faces to the seacoast of Southern
California or the pines of Prescott for
midsummer days those who brave the heat
and remain are said to derive the greatest
benefit at this season. The Intense heat
seems to heal the lung tissue and destroys
the germs. Sufferers from kidney trouble
or rheumatism also make their greatest
gain in summer.
While nearly every ranch in the valley
stands ready, for a consideration, to open
its doors to the Invalid, the best, results
are to be attained from tenting on the
desert itself. The ranches must be irrigated
at stated intervals. The desert, no
man's land, is dryness itself.
Although the camper, assured of squatter
sovereignty, may set up his canvas establishment
where he will, the qeustion of
a convenient water supply leads him'to
select a site near a ranch. A quarter will
pay for a barrelful of wash water hauled .
each week on a stone boat from the irri- |
gation ditch, while two hits more win keep
the swinging olla, or Mexican water jar,
filled and provide water for cooking from
some adjacent well. Other supplies are
also readily obtained. The Indians bring
in from the reservations wagon loads of
mesquite and iron wood, which they retail
for SI 73 or $2 a load, while the same
amount will buy dry almond, fig and apricot
wood from the orchards which have
died for lack of water. Faggoting parties
are also popular, and he who will can
gather for himself the flotsam and jetsam
of the desert.
Fruits may be obtained at the orange
groves and adjacent orchards at a reasonable
price and of delicious quality. The
roll-call of native fruits includes oranges,
grape fruit, lemons, apricots, peaches,
pears, pomegranates, figs, grapes, nectarines,
plums, berries and melons galore.
Rich Jersey milk may be obtained at the
ranches for five cents a quart, butter for
twenty-five cents a pound, honey?delicious
as the famed honey of Hymettis?
fifteen cents a pound. Ice, artificial, can
be obtained at any of the towns at sixty
cents a hundred. The markets of Phoenix
supply the best beef and mutton in the
world at live and let live prices. Groceries
are high, owing to the freight rates, but
the stores would be a credit to any city
of New York State outside the metropolis.
An accurate account of living expenses
kept during the last year for a family of
three adults and a child showed an average
of $40 a month for table expenses. SB
for water, service and laundry; oil and
repairs. S2 35, and fuel, S3 50.
While the table expenses seem disproportionately
high, it must be borne in mind
that hyper-feeding and the generous provision
of the most nourishing meats and
foods are a large factor in the recovery of
the consumptive. For the person addicted
to t'he use of ham. bacon and canned goods
the outlay would be materially diminished.
Tents may be rented for from $3 to $7 a
month, according to furnishing?but the
majority of campers prefer to own their
canvas homes. These can be bought in
any of the larger towns, new or secondhand.
They air ail put up with siding and '
board floors, and are usually screened from
the intrusive fly?and also furnished with
a fly or second cover. The stage settings
and furnishings may be as luxurious or as
simple as individual taste and th^ pocketbook
demand. A stove, two or three chairs,
a dresser or makeshift?and one learns to
be an expert in the matter of makeshifts
o.n the desert or frontier?a bowl, pitcher
and pail of tin. agate or paper?these are
the necessaries. Luxuri;# in the way of
rugs, hammocks, book shelves and pillows,
pillows, pil'ows may be added ad lib. When
light housekeeping is carried on?and this
is the general scheme?cooking utensils,
dishes, a screen cupboard and an icebox
must be added to the list.
A horse and some sort of cart or wagon
are esteemed essential parts of one's out\
fit. Nor is this an extravagance, for horseflesh
and pasturagv are both cheap, and
the whole establishment can usually be
sold at cost when there is no longer necessity
for their use. A good solid mountain
pony which was a delight under the
saddle and a family friend in front of the
two-seated "Democrat," with harness,
whip and all complete, cost the writer a
trifle less than $50 and was sold at the end
of the year for $47. Pasturage on an adjacent
ranch cost $1 50 during the winter,
$1 in the summer. /
Neither barns nor sheds are a necessity
for the horse, but a brush shed or Indian
vat arte is an all-important adjunct to the
tents if one would be comfortable. Under
Its kindly shade the hammock is swung,
tihe table set, the water jar hung, nearly
all the operations of daily living carried
on. These vataws are copied after the Indians'.
They are made of stout cottonwood
poles, covered with brush and leaves held
in place by the all-pervasive bailing wire,
which plays such a beneficent part in all
the operations and vicissitudes of Arizona
life.
The question is often asked: Is not the
desert life monotonous? To th'is the answer
is: That depends. To one who loves the
procession or tne seasons, tne ruggtru
mountains, the purple buttes, the bending
sky and the all-pervading sense of infinite
freedom, a life so near to nature is fraught
with tremendous benefit, spiritual and material.
For the rider of hobbies?and a hobby is
a good thing to take an invalid's mind off
his ills?there is an endless variety of subjects.
The myriad mounds left by the prehistoric
peopl-es invite to archaeological research,
with the certainty of finds of the
old Aztec pottery?if nothing more. For the
botanist, geologist, mineralogist, ornithologist
and entomologist there is material rich
and rare. For the ethnologist there are
the Indians and Mexicans, to say nothing
of stray representatives of every nation
that on the earth doth dwell.
For the artist and the photographer there
are skies and lights and shadows and subjects
to be found nowhere else. For the
sportsman there is small game a plenty?
and for the one who simply wants to rest
and let the world go by?a peace unspeakable.
It goes without saying, that no one
should take up the desert life if in a physical
condition that demands the attendance
of a doctor, or a hurry call upon the
druggist. For such the town. Neither
should one com?e hither without money,
thinking he can soon earn a living. There
is no light work for invalids. Grown
strong or at least familiar with the lay
of the land, there are various occupations
that may be taken up. one can command
the capital. Chicken raising, bee culture,
vegetable and alfalfa growing?melon raising
or a stock farm?will each furnish a
good living.
This, however, comes later?and there
must be means to live on in the interim.
If possible, every invalid should have
some member of bis own family with him.
"While scores of men and occasionally a
woman come alone, the chances of recovery
are much greater when there is no
danger of homesickness. All these conditions
met with, a two-years' residence _in
tents on the desert has demonstrated the
fact that almost without exception there
is marked gain and often complete cure.
In cases in which the cure has been begun
in time many have been able to return to
their homes entirely well. Others, appa
rently recovered, 'have deemed it wiser to
cast their fortunes with the Territory, and
have given permanent setting to their
lares and penates. Three only, out of one
colony of one hundred who had come for
their health, returned home to die. "With
this showing the desert tent life for consumptives
seems to need no further commendation
to prove its efficacy.
A LUCKY BOOK AGE&T.
He Meets with a W?rm Reception as the
Result of Mistaken Identity.
There is a farmer living just north of
Evanston and a book agent somewhere in
the cosmopolitan desert of Chicago, each
of whom feels that he is the victim of a
cruel circumstance, says the Chicago
Chronicle.
East week the farmer had a note from
a nephew to say that the boy would visit
the farm on Thursday. Uncle and nephew
had not met for fifteen years, and
the old man drove to the station in his
most comfortable coat, that he might
welcome his sister's only child. But the
young man failed to come. After waiting
until the last passenger had disappeared
the old man drove away, disappointed.
The book agent entered into the dramatis
personae early the next morning.
Looking over the top rail of the barnyard
gate he called, "Hello, uncle."
The book agent never got such a reception
before in all his life. The farmer
flung the gate wide open, seized the
agent's hand, and pressed a whiskered
kiss on the ironclad cheek.
"Say, this must be Heaven," murmured
the agent, following the farmer into the
house and explaining that everybody
at home was as well as could be expected.
Not till the agent was full of
a boiled dinner and attempting to sell
a book did the farmer begin to see a dim
light. Charged with impersonating the
missing nephew, the agent explained
that he greeted all elderly strangers as
"uncle;" that he even had a few almost
real ones in South Clark street in
Chicago.
When last seen by the farmer the agent
was still running, and when the real
nephew does come ne may uuu an cictum
current in the latch-string.
1TBEAT jy KAESAS.
Thousands of Bnshels Piled on the Open
Sod Wailing for Transportation.
For the first time in Jts history, says
Leslie's "Weekly, Kansas has more wheat
than it knows what to do with. Not only
are the granaries and bins running over
with grain, but the elevators are filled
and tne farmers are still bringing it to
markeit by hundreds of thousands of
bushels. The long dry weather was, in a
sense, a bonanza for wheat raisers. Much
of the grain was so heavy that it fell to
the ground and would have been lost had
there been wet weather. But with the long
hot, clear days every straw could be
gathered, most of 'the farmers running the
threshing machines into the field and hauling
the grain from the shocks to the machine.
The grain has all been of the best
quality and the yield from twenty to
thirty-five bushels per acre. Not less than
80.000,000 bushels will be gathered, and the
high price is giving the farmers a fine income.
As the strings of wagons came to market
in the wheat beft the railroads were
swamped. They could not furnish cars
and the elevators were soon filled to overflowing.
Even in the small stations twenty
to thirty teams were waiting to be unloaded
all day through the latter part of
the threshing. The buyers finally began
piling the grain on the prarie. Great heaps
of 30,000 to 50.000 bushels have been stored
on the open sod and there they will remain
until such time as cars can be secured in
which to ship the grain. The sun does not
hurt it, no one can steal it and so little
rain falls during the summer that there
is practically no danger from that source.
Some enterprising buyers have secured
circus'tents and placed them over the piles,
making curious features of the prairie
landscape.
The Boston Transcript (Rep) points out
that the demand for the ship subsidy
scheme does no; proceed from the alleged
ber.eliciaries theory. "Subsidy or no subsidy,
the ship building interests of the
country do not appear to be in a languishing
condition." remarks the Transcript.
"The law of supply and demand does not
cease its operations to await legislation,
and just now the ship builders do not seem
to be worrying much about the future."
The real benefits would be confined to a
limited clique, which, with the assistance
of the politicians, are making all the demand.
STYLES IN MEN'S DRESS.
FASHIONS THAT WILL BE POPULAR
THIS FALL A .YD WINTER.
Sombre Coloring* and Neat Effects?Day
and Evening Skirts?Wrinkles In Collars?Very
F#w Changes from Last
Year.
(From the Haberdasher.)
The coming autumn and winter season
will differ but little in the sartorial sense
from that of last year. The changes have
been very few, and in the main represent
some slight modification of or departure
from standards that have become very
familiar. Men's dress Is being held down
to very conventional lines. The run of
color that was the distinguishing feature
of last year is to be curtailed and color
will not be prominent in anything that
man wears. Sombre tones in overcoatings
and suitings and very neat color effects in
cravatings and shirtings will form the
most prominent and distinguishing feature
in the mode of the coming season.
I have observed in looking over the new
goods for autumn that all that is called
new, paradoxical though it may seem, is
really old. This is the modern tendency in
all things related even in, the slightest dedegree
to art. The painters are drawing
on the old schools for inspirations, designers
are revelling in the art of the seventeenth*century,
house decorators are copying
old interiors and furniture and the architects
are drawing inspirations from the
Greek and Roman schools. In dress we
are modifying or changing fashions that
have been in vogue before. The culross,
the wing collar, the skirted greatcoats and
the new narrow-tip shoes are mere revivals
of old-time favorites.
STYLES IN SHIRTS.
In shirts I look for very few changes
and practically no innovations. For dress
the plain linen bosom shirt, with slightly
rounded or square link cuffs attached, will
be the best form. The bosoms will be as
wide as the chest of the wearer admits.
The stitching will be of moderate width.
Some of the dress shirts will have very
fine ribbed pique bosoms, but I do not
think that this style will be as generally
accepted as the plain bosom. There will
be three stud holes in the bosoms, two
of which will show in the waistcoat opening,
The shirt for wear with the evening
jacket will be the same as that worn with
the swallowtail coat. Some shirt makers
show a fine pleated shirt for wear with the
jacket, and no doubt it will be quite popular
with the younger set. The colored
shirts for day wear show with plain
bosoms and the patterns are noticeably
neat. The figures are printed on madoplans
or on satin broches or percales. The
former fabrics are given more attention
- - ' * 1 ~
in the flner snops tnaji ptrrcaica aic. j.
figures are neat geometricals in black,
dark blue, reds orl lavender; stripes are
also displayed. They are narrow and
widely spaced.
Pleated colored shirts will figure quite
prominently for wear with business suits.
The plain neglige with a centre pleat and
made of madras or of fine flannels will
also be worn. The flannels are designed
for neglige and come in rather neat
stripes.
COLLARS AND CRAVATS.
In collars the three new styles are the
wing, poke and straight stander. These
are In both wide and narrow stitching. The
wide stitched wing collar is not as sightly
as that with narrow stitching, owing to
thfe liability of the edge, where the wing
bends, to swell and gap. The wing collars
have well balanced, moderate spaced
wings, the bottom of the wings forming a
straight line.
In cravats all of the forms are large.
The culrosses will be very broad and soft,
the ascots wide of end and free of lining.
The best four-in-hand will have a wide
end and be graduated to a two-inch width
at the knot. Ties, if sold at all, will be
of. the batswing shape. For evening wear
there is a new tie. It is cut perfectly
straight and has square ends. It is of
uniform width throughout. When tied it
shows a square, flat centrepiece and the
ends stand out straight and come to the
edge of the shirt bosom.
In clothes I find indications which point
to the usual fight of the tailors to force
new fashions. In the first place, we will
have the annual cry for color in evening
dress and for the freedom from blacks
and whites in day dress. All of tnis I do
not think will amount to much. The best
tailors are making trousers rather wide,
but avoiding the peg-top form. The trousers
are about seventeen and one-halt
inches at the knee, and fifteen and onehalf
at the bottoms. They will hang perfectly
straight from, the hips. For evening
dress the white waistcoat will be given
a very prominent place. These will be
made both single and double-breasted and
will have buttons covered with the material
of which the waistcoat is made. In
evening dress coats there will be no change
worth recording. That garment is a
staple fixture and it seems impossible to
. i-i.: rpVo
improve upon ine existing siauumu. auc
frock coat will-be practically the same
as last year.
The evening jacket will not be made at
all by smart tailors. It Is now a readymade.
"Cheap John" article, and may be
banished entirely from the wardrobe of a
gentleman. A new coat something like the
evening jacket will be made. It will have
a breast and side pockets and silk-faced
shawl collar and will close with two buttons.
These coats are designed for home
and club wear and are worn with singlebreasted
waistcoats and trousers of the
same material, white shirts, black ties and
either lace or button shoes. They're just
handy dress coats to wear down to dinner
or to hang around the house or chib in.
NOVELTIES IN DRESS.
One of the best tailors on the avenue
will introduce several novelties this coming
autumn. One of these is an evening
suit made of dark gray cloth. The collar
is of the shawl pattern, faced with gray
silk. The trousers and waistcoat are made
of the same material as the coat. The
suits are designed for wear at stag affairs,
about hotels and clubs and for the theatre
when women are not to be in the party.
Another new idea is a house suit. It will
be made of a heavy rep silk and lined
with silk. The colors are very brilliant.
The trousers are made like pajama trousers
and fasten about the waist with a
broad bit of ribbon, with large silk tassels
at the ends. The coat is cut double-breasted
and has large pockets. The suit may
be worn with a siik shirt. It is just for
wear in one's room.
In overcoats the long Chesterfields and
the skirted coats will be very popular. The
skirted coat will be worn in the evening
as well as during the day. These are cut
like the "Paddock" and have well flared
skirts. The "Kaglan" will only be in rainnroofs
and in coverts. The covert coat
will be very popular. It will be cut full
and quite short.
Sack suits will be made on lines that,
while conforming to the lines of the body,
do not accentuate them. The military
jacket is passe. The new jackets will be
loose and will have perfectly straight
backs.
In shoes the principal departure is in the
shap<: of the toe. The latest model snows
the flat last with the outswung sole, but
the tip is brought in to a much narrower
j oint than last year's model. Low shoes
will he worn during the autumn and on
pleasant days during the winter, but many
look upon the low shoe as a mere winter
fad. The patent leather shoes tfrith kid
tops will be the formal footwear. Shoes
will be very plain for dress, and quite
elaborately trimmed for neglige and business
wear.
OUR TECHNICAL SCHOOLS.
They Furnish the Best Bridge Builders,
Tool Makers and Railway Constructors
in the "World-European Methods Have
been Adapted Rather than Adopted.
(From the Brooklyn Eagle.)
Merchants and statesmen to-day congratulate
themselves upon the wonderful
spread of this country's commerce, the
greatest any nation has ever seen. But
they do not, perhaps, seallze that the nation
has advanced in another way that Is
possibly the true core of our national success.
This is the extraordinary advance
in scientific learning, as shown in the
universities, professional and technical
schools and In everyday life. If this rapid
moulding of America into a scientific nation
does not fully account for.the commercial
victories, it has at all events contributed
largely to them.
So pronounced has been the development
of these universities and schools that now
at tha hPtrinnintr of the century they sur
pass those of Europe. And yet surpassed
is by no means the right word. There is
no institution in Europe resembling them
or organized on quite the same plan. The
scientific school of America in its grasp
of what really constitutes practical, extensive
training has no counterpart ih the
world. It turns out scientists that are at
the same time workmen of the highest
type. The universities and technical
schools of England and.the Continent, excellent
as many of them are, have not fully
caught the spirit and trend of the time.
The tree of the new American scientific
education is being known by its fruit. It
has brought a new sort of workman into
the field of labor, and European industry
stands by, wondering why her representatives
cannot do as tfell.
The explanation of it Is all very simple,
however. American technical education
had its first beginning fifty years ago.
Within the past twenty-five years the scientific
professional schools have been seeing
their true development. Now the combined
results have become so great that
they are apparent all over the world.
"The earliest technical schools," wrote
Prof Mendenhall, president of the Technological
Institute of Worcester, Mass, in
his monograph on "Scientific, Technical
and Engineering Education in the United
States," prepared for the recent Paris Exposition,
"those of a hundred years ago
or more, almost without exception, grew
- out of the industrial demands of the locality
in which they were founded. One of
the best examples is the famous School of
Mines, at Freiberg, which has enjoyed a
long and illustrious career, and many of
the earlier European schools belong to the
same class. To these and the more modern
schools of science and technology the
United States are greatly indebted, especially
on accoynt of the generous wel
come that has "always been eztenaea to
American students and for the inspiration
with which many of them have returned
t to take their qart in the wonderful educational
evolution which the last half century
has witnessed.
"But in all cases European methods have
been adapted rather than adopted, *
and while the nearly 100 schools ot- science
and engineering scattered over the United
States have many points of resemblance,
there is much Individuality, particularly
among the strongest and best, and It is believed
that their several types represent
important advances in the direction of
scientific aDd technical education."
This matter of scientific training for
youth makes but a conservative, quiet
claim, though yet a substantial one. He
might have pointed to some of the results
of these "believed to be Important advances."
American technical school graduates
have come to be the bridge builders
of the world. ThCre are no steel makers,
no tool makers in Europe equal to the
cool, keen young scientists In American
shops and mills.. Nor has the Continent
: and England such a, race of railway construction
engineers. Only this summer the
i Massachusetts Institute of Technology
held examinations in London for the young
Englishmen of scientific tastes, who, to
: learn what they "wanted to fit them for
: the scientific world, found their only re,
course an American schooL And, in the
field of medicine, four distinguished physicians
and surgeons.' of this country are
now touring the wdrld at the request of
k foreign doctors who are anxious to learn
accurately of the advances of this branch
of the science In the New World.
Out of many significant instances these
i have been picked. The number might be
greatly added to, with only the advantage
of emphasizing the point. That which has
. the most pronounced Is, -however, the turn
Ing of the tide. Thirty years ago, anfl even
well onto very recent years, the American
ctnripnf- nf anv kind of science found It a
. part of his education to go to the schools
abroad for as long a period as his pocket*
! book could stand/ His education was not
thought complete till then! And It was
not, for scientific training in this country
was not formed. Now the student has no
need to go. As he takes his degree he is
far beyond what the schools of Europe
teach. And year following year, in increasing
numbers, young Europeans are
coming over here to. grasp the training
that' our universities are giving and to
absorb the technique and the thorough
practicalness that are making American
, scientists masters of men.
"Adapted" was the word Prof Mendenhall
used in speaking of European methods
and the American universites, "rather
than adopted." But it has been very much
more than that. Brushing traditions aside
these institutions of learning went long
ago to the root of the matter. Year by
year they have been building up their
equipment, strengthening their courses.
Questions of finance and whether it would
all pay they have politely laughed at.
Money was needed for this amd for that.
Well, the chiefs would see that 1- was obtained.
Machinery was necessary. At
once the great manufacturers were laid
under contribution, and they sent as gifts
machines worth thousands.
The technical school presidents knew
how to arouse the sympathetic understanding
of men of means and forethought.
Benefactors for this and for that
crowded in, their gifts were chronicled in
the news of the day, commented upon as
vast,' the figures added up and admired.
But no one saw the significance.
Year after year students came out of
courses of engineering, of medicine and
" " * A# A 1 A A ^ ^ f . AP
surgery, 01 cnenusuj, ui ciaun-uj,
marine engineering, of agriculture and
forestry and went into workaday life.
Hitherto the scientific college man had
not been held in very high regard. Manufacturers
had wanted men who had grown
up in shops, "practical" they called them,
no "book learning fellow3, who were all
theory and clean clothes and hands." But
even the most old fashioned soon came to
appreciate that these "fellows," too, came
from "shops," "shops" in the colleges that
had a wider variety of machinery in actual
use than could ever be found In a
single factory. They grew to see that the
new "theory man" was broader, of more
Intelligence, willing to learn about a case
in point and able to grasp it more quickly.
They devised economies and improvement
whenever they were given a chance. They
could make one man do the work of two.
The old time foreman was a child before
them.
Then, one after another, the far seeing
manufacturers chuckled. They had
bridged the gulf between capital and labor
and found real master workmen. They
gave these men more swing and power
and kept on the lookout for more youths
from the technical schools. They came to
see that the product from these institutions
was getting better every year.
The technical schools and universities
had won their point. They realized the
growing demand for their men. Th^y Redoubled
their efforts, added to their
courses, consulted with the greatest and
the most progressive manufacturers as to
what their needs were and built up more
perfectly their equipment. Not alone did
they reach out for machinery, but the
newest and the best. They had at last
created a new market for rr^n.
If a concrete, striking instance is wanted
of this, Sibley College or Cornell University
may be taken. That institution has a
very famous railroad course. The "orders"
that come to the college each spring for
graduates arc greater than Sibley can
possibly supply. She cannot turn out
enough men to meet the demand. Twice
as many as she graduates each year could
be assured of positions. For the railroads
say simply: "These are the men we want;
they are the men that will rise with us
or with some other company. We cannot
now get too many of them."
And so the demand is spreading out in
many another branch of science. The
American technical schools are turning out
the product. It is tfiese men that In later
years do the inventing and the great
pieces of executive work and make the
discoveries. Is it any wonder that the
youth of Kngland and the Continent are
* - ? ?- * - r J
commencing to come to tms country iur
technical training?
THE HERMIT OF CAPE MALE A.
' %
Why he Lived and Died on a Stupendous
Cliff, Witliln Sight and Sound of the
Ocean.
There is one feature of Cape Malea that
rarely fails to attract the notice of the
most careless voyager doubling it. by
day, a touch of human tragedy and
pathos, belonging in point of chrbnology
to our own time, but in universal interest
to all ages. At the extreme pitch of
the cape a stupendous cliff rises sheer
from the fretting waves for about a hundred
feet. Then comes an irregular
plateau or shelf, of perhaps two acres
in area, the mountain rising again
abruptly behind it to a height of about
2,000 feet. This plateau is apparently inaccessible,
and yet, perched upon a huge
bowlder in its centre, a mass of rock detached
from the mountain ages ago, is
a house. It is rudely built of wooden
fragments Ingeniously fitted together,
but its outlines convey at once the idea
of its designer having been an AngloSaxon.
It must be firmly built, too, for
it is exposed to the full fury of wind rebounding
from, the mountain face, 'and
the observer instinctively wonders why,
if a house must be built on that shelf,
so terribly exposed a position was selected.
Then if he be fortunate he will
hear its story, says E. T. Bulien, in the
London Spectator. ' *
About twenty-five years ago there was
a young sailor who, by dint of hard work,
Integrity of character and firmness of
will, reached at the age of 26 the summit
of his ambition?becoming master of what
would then be called a good-sized steamship,
some 900 tons register. Upon this
accession to good fortune he married the
girl of his choice, who had patiently
waited for him since as boy and girl
sweethearts they parted on his first going,
to sea. And with rfcre complacency his
owners gave him the inestimable privilege
* * - 1^-rl A /V 4-r\ OAQ TXT 1 f Vl
or carrying ins yuuug unuc iu
him. How happy he was! How deep and
all embracing his pride, as, steaming
down the grimy Thames, he explained to
the light of his eyes all the wonders
that she was now witnessing for the first
time, but which he had made familiar to
her mind by his oft-repeated sea stpries
during the few bright days between
voyages that he had been able to devote
to courtship! The ship was bound to
several Mediterranean ports, the time being
late autumn, and consequently the
most ideal season for a honymoon that
could possibly be imagined. Cadiz, Genoa,
Naples, Venice, a delightful tour with not
one weary moment wherein to wish for
something else! Even a flying visit to
old Rome from Naples had been possible,
for the two officers, rejoicing in their
happy young skipper's Joy, saw to It that
no unnecessary cares.should trouble him,
and bore willing testimony, in order that
he should get as much delight out of
those halcyon, days as possible, that the
entire crew were as docile as could be
wished, devoted to their bright commander
and his beautiful wife.
Then at Venice came orders to proceed
to Galatz and load wheat for home.
Great was the glee of the girl-wife. She
would see Coristantlnople and the Danube.
. Life would hardly be long enough
r to recount all the wonders of this most
wonderful of wedding trips. And they
sailed with hearts overbrimming with
Joy as the blue sky above them seemed
weHlng over with sunlight. Wind and
weather favored them; nothing occurred
to cast a shadow over their happiness
! until, nearlng Cape Malea at that fatal
hour of the morning, just before dawn,
when more collisions occur than at any
other time, they were run into by a
blundering Greek steamer coming the
I other way,' and cut down amidships to
I the water's edge. To their peaceful sleep
or ,quiet appreciation of the night's silvern
splendors succeeded the overwhelming
flood, the hiss and roar of escaping
steam, the suffocating embrace of death.
In that dread fight for life all perished
but one?he so lately the happiest of
men?the skipper. Instinctively clinging
to a piece of wreckage, he had been
washed ashore under Cape Malea at the
ebbing of the scanty tide, and his strong
Physique, reasserting itself, enabled him
to climb those ruggea oatnemenia uuu
reach the plateau. Here he was found
gazing seaward by some goatherds, who,
in search of their nimble-footed flocks,
had wandered down the precipitous side
of the mountain/ They endeavored to
persuade him to come with them back
to the world, but in vain. He would live,
gratefully accepting some of their poor
provision, but from that watching place
"he would not go. And those rude peasants,
understanding something of his
woe, sympathized with him so deeply
that without payment or hope of any
they helped him to build his hut and
kept him supplied with such poor morsels
of food and drink as sufficed for his
stunted needs.
And there, with .his gaze fixed during
all his waking hours upon that inscrutable
depth wherein all his bright hopes
had suddenly been quenched, he lived
until quite recent years, "the world forgetting,
by the world forgot," a living
monument of constancy and patient, uncomplaining
grief. By his humble friends,
whose language he never learned, he was
regarded as a saint, and when one day
they came upon his lifeless body, fallen
forward upon its knees at a little glazed
window through which he was wont to
look upon the sea where his dear one lay,
they felt confirmed In their opinion of the
sanctity of the hermit of Cape Malea.
LIKCOLS'S BIRTHPLACE
To ba Utilized as an Asylum for
Inebriates.
Down in the Blue Grass region of Kentucky,
on the same farm where Abraham
Lincoln was born and spent his boyhood
days, says the Chicago Tribune, the St
t Sn/.tpfv. nf Chieazo. is <o estab
juunw o WWV4W,, , ? - -
lish a home for the inebriates of the South.
A large hotel, small cottages and commodious
dwellings -Will be erected by the
socielty, and, though the land Is in the
South, the negro will be made as welcome
as the white.
The Lincoln farm is in the town of
Hodgenvllle, fifty miles south of Louisville,
and consists of 110 acres of pasture
land. On It is a spring of mineral water,
the fame of which is great below the
Mason and Dixon line. It was owned by
some prominent Methodists of .'the South,
among them the Rev J. W. Bingham.
Some time ago its owners decided to donate
Its use to charfty, and they chose
the St Luke's Society as the organization
best suited to carry out their plans.
The farm will be turned into a sanitarium.
planned much after that now run
by the society at Xos 1.710 to 1.718 Indiana
avenue. On it will be taken only those who
are addicted to drugs, liquors or tobacco.
The treatment is to be similar to that
given at the Chicago Hospital.
While the officers of the society are busy
trying to get the Lincoln farm in shape,
they are also at work establishing a branch
within the Cook County jail. There prisoners
known to be victims of the drug, liquor
or tobacco habit are given over to
Dr Miller and his assistant, Dr La Grange.
The latter devotes all his time to them I
and lives in the same quarters with them. 1
THE HEART OF MONTROSE
bequeathed by t h e marquis to
nis yiECE, lady saeier.
Gruesome Relic of a Valiant Scottish
Hero and how it was Mysteriously LostLittle
Hope of the Ultimate Recovery of
the Relic, but After the Lapse of One
Hundred Years the Heart of the Graham
Slay Once Again Rest on Scottish Soil.
(From Chambers's Journal.)
Alas that no one knows where?but
somewhere, certainly?the heart of valiant
James Graham, Marquis of Montrose,
awaits the collector of curiosities! Tossed
among bits of armor, old china, bric-abrac,
in some old curiosity shop in the
north of France; possibly now carried to
Paris or London, it may lie in some old
lady's lumber attic; or, trampled years ago
into the ground of a back garden in Boulogne,
Pierre and little Marie may turn it
up any day with their spades. "Qu'est-ce
que c'est done," this little old, beaten,
egg-shaped box of steel? Why, Pierre and
Marie, it holds, if you only knew it, the
dust of a Scottish hero's heart, and the
case itself was fashioned out of his good
steel sword.
Montrose knew Merchiston Castle, Edinburgh.
well; it was, in fact, a second home
to him in his boyhood, for his sister Margaret
had married Sir Archibald Napier
when Montrose was 6 fl 7 years old, and
he spent much of his ti.f.e with them. The
Napiers had, besides, a town mansion
within the precincts of Holyrood House;
but to little Montrose, brought up in the
country, the old castle, with its barns and
out houses and granges, was no doubt a
more attractive holiday home than a dull
town house In the fashionable Cannongate.
One' can fancy the little figure, in its
clothes of "green camlet" or "mixed pargone"
and "cloak with pasmcnts," wandering
with his bow and arrows about the
parks, or, maybe, escaped from his watchful
"pedagog," Master William Forrett,
imperiling himself, boylike, on the battlements
of the castle.
But to get to the story of the heart one
must leave the life and hasten to the
death of Montrose. His sister and brother-in-law
had died ^long before, and the ;
owner of Merchiston in 1630 was Mont- j
rose's nephew, the second Lord Napier. A I
great affection existed between Montrose
and his niece by marriage, Lady Napier;
and as a mark of it he bequeathed to her
his heart?a strange, and, if one must tell
the truth, an embarrassing, legacy; uui
looked upon by the lady herself as a supreme
honor and a sacred trust.
Montrose was executed at the Market
Cross of Edinburgh on Tdesday, May 21,v
1650. The extraordinary composure and
gallantry of his bearing are well attested.
, An unsigned letter In the British Museum,'
written by a spectator while the execution
! was actually going on, says: "I never sawa
more sweeter carriage in a man in ail
my life. He is Just now turning off from
the ladder; but his countenance changes
not." Another account says: "He stept
along the streets with so great state, so
much beauty, majesty and gravity as
amazed the beholders. And many of his
enemies did acknowledge him to be the j
bravest subject in the world, and in him a
| gallantry that graced all the crowd.",
Clothed in "fine scarlet richly shammaded
with golden lace, and linen with flnej
pearling about, his delicate white gloves
in his hand, his stockings of incarnate
silk, his shoes with their ribbons on hif
feet," his dress was "more becoming a
bridegroom than a criminal."
After hanging on the gibbet for three
hours the body was taken down and the
head was affixed to the Tolbooth; the
limbs were dispersed to various places
throughout the Kingdom, and the dismembered
trunk was enclosed in a "little short
chest" and buried on the Boroughmuir.
The Boroughmuir was the usual place of
execution and burial for the worst criminals;
it was a place of evil reputation, little
sought during the day and much to be
shunned by night.
No wonder, theiv that some "adventurous
spirits" were required who would
steal to that grewsome spot, raise the
hastily and none too deeply buried body,
I and cut from it the heart of Montrose.
The master of Merchi3ton was In exile in
Holland; it was Lady Napier alone Who
planned the night excursion and saw it
carried out. Did her heart fair her that
May night, waiting at the foot of the turret
stair until her messengers, returning,
put in her hands something not seen, but
felt, with the square o|f fine linen all
"tricked with bloody gules?" That same
square of linen and the pair of stockings
of "Incarnate" silk showing a still darker
stain have remained ever since among the
treasured possessions of the Napair family.
For a time, then, the heart was safe at
* ' - 1 *?-J I.
Mercniston. ic was emuaimcu auu inclosed
In a little steel case madfe of the
blade of Montrose's sword;- the case was
placed in a fine gold filigree box which
had belonged to John Napier, the Inventor
of logarithms; and the box in its turn
was deposited in a silver urn.
Before very long, however, Lady Napier
dispatched the qasket by some faithful
hand to the young Marquis of Montrose,
who, with Lord Napier and others of the
connection, was still living in exile in Holland,
and her^ begins the first part of its.
adventures, fit which, unfortunately, no
record now remains.
For many years the heart was completej
ly lost sight of, and any hope of ever re!
gaining it had long been given up, when a
j friend of the Napier family recognized the
j gold filigree box enclosing the steel case
I among a collection of curiosities iri Holi
land. He purchased the relic at once and
returned it to Merchiston, at that time
! the property of Francis, the fifth Lord
j Napier. There for a second time the heart
reposed, but not for long. On the death
of the fifth Lord Napier it passed into the
keeping of his only surviving daughter,
Hester, afterward Mrs Johnston.
Some years after her marriage Mrs Johnston
was on a voyage to India with her
husband, her little son, and all their
household goods, when their ship, which
formed part of the fleet under Commodore
Johnston, was attacked by a French
frigate, and a stiff fight ensued. Mr John|
ston busied himself with four of the guns
upon the quarter deck, while his wife, who
had refused to go below, remained beside
him, a heroically obstinate figure, holding
by the one hand her little boy, and in the
other a thick velvet reticule. Into which
she had hurriedly crammed all the things
she valued most, including, of course, the
heart. In the middle of the fight a splinter
struck Mrs Johnston on the arm,
wounding her severely. The velvet reticule
gave little protection to its precious
contents, and the gold filigree box was-j
completely shattered, but the inner steel
case remained unharmed. It must have
been some consolation to Mrs Johnston
that, when the attacking frigate retired,
the English commodore left the flag ship j
and came on board the Indianraan to offer j
his thanks and congratulations to the lady 1
and her husband, who had set the crew
so gallant an example.
Arrived in India, it was easy to find a j
clever goldsmith, who constructed another j
gold filigree box in place of the one broken,
also a silver urn like the original. On the ;
outside of the urn was engraved in two
native dialects a short account of Montrose's
life and death. The urn soon came
to be regarded by the natives as something
uncanny, and the report spread that it was
a talisman, and that its owner would
never be wounded or taken prisoner in battle.
So one Is not surprised to learn that
before Jong the urn and its contents were
stoien. and In spite of e\'ery effort could
not be traced. Mrs Johnston, however,
discovered after some time that it had
been sold for a large sum of money to a
powerful chief in the neighborhood of Madura.
1
.
?
It was part of the training: of the little
boy who had stood beside his parents dur-"^^MB
ing the attack on the Indiaman to spend
four months of every year with a native I
chief, in order to learn something of the 1
language and native methods of hunting ,
and shooting. While on a sporting expe- >*1
dition the boy distinguished himself in ^
warding off the attack of a wild hog; ^
whereupon the chief, to show his apprecia- \
tion of the performance promised, in true
Oriental fashion, to give the lad practical- V
ly anything he chose to ask. As this chief . ]'"j
was the purchaser of the um, young Johnston
naturally begged that the family
property might be handed hack to hlm? *
The chief made a generous speech in re- %
ply, explaining that when he bought the
urn- and its contents he had no idea that
they were stolen goods, and adding that
"one brave man should always attend to'
the wishes of another brave man, what- .
ever his religion or "his race might ha;
therefore he considered it his duty to fulfil
the wishes of the brave man wh0*0 TrzMgEl
heart was in the urn, and whose *ish had
been that his heart should be' kept by hia Ira
| descendants." Accordingly the hoy ZW>
; turned home laden with gifts of ill sorts
for himself and his mother, and carrying
with him the urn and a letter of apology
from Its late custodian. The death of this tp
liberal-minded chief forms an interesting '
sequel to this adventure of the heart* Hav- ^
,lng rebelled against the Nabob. Of Aheot,.
he was taken by English troops, and he >
and manyl of bis family were executed.
When the chief was told he would be put
to death he referred to the story of Montrose,
and said that as there was something
alike in the manner of their dying, so he
hoped that after death his attendants
would preserve'his heart, as the heart of i
Montrose had been preserved, for future .
generations to honor.
The Johnston family returned to Europe
in 1792. Being. In France at the time when, ... y H
the Revolutionary Government compelled ;-?'V
all persons to give up their gold and ailver
plate and Jewels, Mrs Johnston entrusted . '/J
the silver urn, with- its enclosures, to an , ' v
Englishwoman living at Boulogrie, "Who
promised to keep it hidden until it could.
be safely conveyed back to England: but
the woman died soon afterward and from
that time nothing has been seep or beard
of the heart of Montrose.
There would appear to be Bttle hope of .1^.
the ultimate recovery of the relic; yet : ;y.;
stranger things have happened, and it may
be that even after the lapse of ohe hundred .
years the heart of the Graham may onoe
again rest on Scottish sotL
TUBEBCULOUS COWS JDASGEBOr?
t>?Ciatiavairtal It 0M* ' &
many as Bl?<irh?r?. : '''-yjfe*/j388
(From the Baltimore Sum)
Prof Koch's dictum that the-tnbercu- . ^
losis of cows Is not transmissible to man
or child is controverted in Germany, as
elsewhere, with virtual unanimity. Prof .
Virchow opposes the view-.of the great
bacteriologist and is reinforced by Dr
Johne, professor of pathological anatomy. - -
mt Veterinary College of Dresden. In his
3say, Just .published, Dr Johne says that ' .v
"it is precisely the milk of tuberculous -?$1SE
cows that plays the chief part in cases of ! ';>?3
tuberculosis among children." Ttt prove y^ajg
his point the Doctor mentions the ease of
a veterinary surgeon wHo'injured hta -
thumb while dissecting & diseased cow. 6 ^ j
Six months later tuberculosis manifested
itself In the sear of the wound, and afterward
tuberculous bacilli were found in his
sputum. The surgeon died of consumption,
and "at the post-mortem examination,f % sSi?8
the Doctor adds, "a considerable number
of similar bacilli were found in the Joint
of the deceased's thumb. The conclusion
is ''that the bacillus of bovine tuberculosis
is a tuberculous bacillus of less Intensive *.: w?
power, which is perhaps less dangerous a* :lry?"
a germ of infection for normal grown-up / .
human beings of good health and strong
powers of resistance, but thai It Is all the
more destructive to the tender organism
of a child or to the organism of thbM
grown-up persons whotave weak-cCnsti-?? *%
tutions, or who are ill-fed and, therefore,
not so capable of resisting Infective'
germs."
TBBMTaTMtLTOFBLMKt-WAlklXB
Eslentlsts are Still Pus sled Over tHe Many
Phases of it? Charleston Physician's
Experiences*
nfrnm the CMndnnati Commercial.)
"Sleep-walking is something better
derstood now than formerly, . but psychologists
are not;thoroughly agreed in v
regard to many of the phases," observed
a New York physician. f*Ooo of the recent
cases, that of a young man oat West ,
walking ten miles to visit his father, and
of an even more recent case, that of a ."'X
young lady walking three miles on a cold
night in her night gown, without awakening,
upsets many of the previously accepced
theories. It had been thought that ;
exposure to Intense cold as well as In- ;
tense heat would awaken the sleep-walker,
but in these cases, which are well authenticated,
it appears that this opinion,
while correct, possibly, in the main, is not ' *
always so. ,
"In my early days, when attending lee*
tures ac a medical college in Baltimore, 2,
with some other medical students, witnessed
one of the famous sleep-walking * <
cases that'ls quoted In many of the stand*
ard books. One night we were passing
along Lexington street, where the Lexington
street market Is located. One of
our party called attention to a moving V-&?'
figure, clad in white, on the roof of the
market building. It proved to be that at
a girl about 17 years of age. \
She had lost a canary bird the. after-; J
noon before, which was last seen oh thai
eaves of the roof of the market house./
Darkness came on, however, before alV# ?
thorough search for . the bird orald
made, and It was given up. The girl
went to bed, and during the night left he#
bed and returned to the market house anJ
and climbed to its roof. r
"This in Itself was not a difficult task,
for there was a series of sheds leading
to it. She walked the entire length of
one side of the market, along the extreme
edge of the roof. At every step
It seemed she would step over the edge,
and had she done so she would likely
have been killed.
"Our party divided up, and one, now J
the leading physician of Charleston, S. C., -j
climbed to the roof and seized the girl. h
shP awoke the instant he touched ner.
and It was with the greatest difficulty 1 l
that he could keep her from falling, for, J
while In her sleep she appeared to be an A
expert, she was a very poor climber when I
awake. It was a clear case of sleep- J
walking, and bad she gone ten feet
farther she would have found the bird*. fl
which had roosted for the night in. the J
rain gutter which ran along the .roof,
and where it was found a few minutes
afterward. Sleep-walking is muchflhore j fl
frequent than is generally understood, ajafl
though, as a rule, it is confined tiflcbB*
dren. I have known of several ca&a ?f ?fl
adults who would take walksHn their
sleep as often as once a week."
SAVED BY THE MASQNIC SIGNi. ' I
(From the American Tyler.) I
During the memorable raid that Grant's I
army made on Petersburg, Va. on April I
2, 1865, when Lee's lines were broken, a I
young Confederate officer lay on the road I
severely wounded, and when, without a fl
moment's warning, a company 01 reuerai .. m
cavalry rode down towards him at a fuli~
galop, he saw death staring him in -ffie
face. His first thought was that possibly B
there might be a Mason among them, and
he gave the signal of distress known only H
to Masons. Then the Federal captain rode fl
quickly to his side, dismounted and part
ed the company in the centre, without mo- fl
lesting the man in the least. He was fl
quickly picked up, though a prisoner, and H
taken to the rear and tenderly cared for, H
and in the course of time entirely recov- H
ered his health. Brother H. W. Mason,
of Rockwell, Tex, a prominent physician, H
Is anxious to learn the name and rest- H
dence of the officer who saved his life in
answer to a Masonic sign, and asks that H
this item be published in all Masonic Jour- H