Newspaper Page Text
T-"-RFWEEKLY EDITION. W INNSBOIRO, S. C., -DECEMBER ,18.VL
IN THE ORCIARD.
Mellow lies the sunshine on the orohard slopes
at d midows,
On DO of purple asters and tit of leafy
hills ; -- , .
The soft, warm haze is tender with a palpitat
And a fresh. delloious odor all the dozing val
Colors like a prairie in the color of its blos
Gleam amid the grasses where the luscious
And in their oosy places on the bough., with
Peep and nestle myriad appli s, like birds of
Golden, green and russet, and warm with
Basking in the silent noon upon their perches
* 'mong the leaves
How they glow like royal roees, where the
loving sun reposes,
How they fall from their own fatuess on the
orisp autumnal eves.
Apples, fragrant apiles, piled high beside the
And heaped.in wain and basket 'neath the
broad-branched, mossy trees,
Can we fairly call him sober-the splendid,
Pouring out his swee's and beauty in such
lavish gifts as these ?
Children frolicking and feasting on the ripe
ness to the core
Monarchs of the orchard king lom, with
every tree a throne
What are spring days for your praises, or
woodpaths, or the daisies,'
To those provinces of sweetness, which, by
right of love, ye own ?
Sadly may the aged ponder life's decays and
iot y6 uth sees no dark onien as the mellow
0 children, keep.. your gladness ; may you
have no more of sadness
Than while, romping in the orchards, you.
are kings and queens of all!
What John Harding Thought,
"In some things women are so silly and
Here John Harding laid down the maga
zine article he had been reading, and which
had for its theme the apparently inexhaust
ible one-the follies and shortcomings of
the sex to wiich he had alluded.
-Mrs. Harding glanced from the bow she
was fashioning to the solemn face of the
"In some thingst That is encouraging
surelyl I've known such quantities of mno
that were silly and ridiculous in so many
ways. What is it now, I wonder?"
Loftily obvious to the quiet sarcasm in
these words, Mr. Harding continued:
"Just look at the way they dress, for in -
"Not only devoid of common sense, but
of all artistic elegance and beauty."
"Really, John," retorted Mrs. Harding,
drawing her needle through her work with
so much energy as to snap'the thread, "how
ever silly a woman may be in your estima
tion, I think they might know how and in
what style to dress."
"They might, I suppose," was the cool
response; "hut that they 'dOn't is, very
evident. H1ave you icad: 'Dress as it ite
lates to Health and Beauty,' in the last
"No,'' respondeld 1MJrs. H~ardiig, with a
toss of the head. "It was writteno by somec
man, I suppose,"
"No matter who it was written by; it is
sound sense, every wordl of it. I wish you
would study that article, Mary; it would
(10 you an inose denl of' goad. I don't
mecan to say that you hoaven't sense in a
good many things, which surprises ime all
the more that you shoould sliow so little in
the way you dross."
Mrs. Harding's red eheeks grew still red.
* '.-*."John Hardingi"
"There, now, Mary, don't fly into a pas
soon because I tell you the truth, all for
- your own good. Just look at the trimming
on the skirt of your dtess, for jnstance; ac
cording to all artisti'e rules,'the line should
be unbroken, from waist to feet, and here
it ls emit up' and destroyed in hialf-aidozenm
"Have you ever seen mec in a dress whose
skirt le -entirely plain,'or,' as-you term it,
with the liIe unbrokoifrrofir waist'to foet?''
"No; but I shoouki be glad to do so"''
"You woumldt, Have . you any farther
complaint to insgeo i If yoh'ave i beg $hst
you won't be babitjafd ; tojt gtatlug lj.d
"I don't mean to be. ~here's the hat
you, wear. That is what you call it, I sup
pose, 'though for any its' i. pord: mb it
might as well be called/most tdyting else;i
a mass of ribbons, feathers and flowers,
. piled up as hIgh as jios e and vdoinityon
the back of the hoeah."''
"Anything (urtheor?" -, .
"Yes. Look at theo way the hair is worn
by nine-tenths of the ladies-yours among
cm, part of it in a snarl on tihe forehead
and the rest braided and 'festooned at the
back of thme head."
"Hlow would you have iiae arrange it?"
"Why, simply drawn back from thme fore
head and colled low at thoe back of the head
so as to'preserve its.classio. outline. *Some
thing the way i is in that pictureo. Sed?"'
Mrs. Harding glanced at the picture to
-which her husbatid poinlted, that of' a very
lovely girl, withi ahall reg'ula'r fcattir~d, and
who wavy hair was losely knutted at the
4 "Yes, I see. But I don't think you over
saw my halr dressed in that style."
"It would ben im uene 1tnpmtvenient
-If you would dross it so, you'd look like
quite anotheo person."
"tink I should, Biut havel 0O& omt
further suggestions to make? Your ideas
are so original that they interest me."
"Not, at preseut," returned Mr. Hard
ing, biting off the end of his cigar he Inten
ded., to light as soon as he got out on the
A few minutes later he put his head
back Into the room where'his wife was
"I shall be around with the ponies at
8, Mary. Don't keep me waiting."
Mrs. Harding belonged to 'that- large
class-of ladles Nlose attractions depend
more or less on style of dress, and no one
understood this more clearly than she.
She knew her strong and weak points, and
how to bring out the one and conceal the
other. For instance, she had fine eyes,
hair and complexion, but her features were
rather Irregular, her forehead especially
being out of proportion with the rest of her
face, and the form wanting in roundness
of outline. But so skillfully were these
defects remedied by the adjustment of the
hair and dress th'at they were scarcely no
ticed, and she was considered by all who
knew her-her husband not excepted-to
be an attractive and very charming woman.
Mrs. Harding spent the greater part of
the morning in the attic overhauling a chest
that had belonged to her husband's aunt;
apparently well repaid for her trouble by
the -garments fished up out of its dark
depths, and which she carried to her own
room. Out of these she fashioned a dress
very similar in style to the one for which
her husband had expresed so much admira.
"I hats to disfigure Inyself so!'' she
thought, as the straight folds felU lankly
around the tall, thin form making it look
still more tall and thip; ."but nothing else
will cure John ; and if lie keeps on he'll
drive me franticl"
~ Taking a round, flat hat, very much in
voguo a few' years ago, and whose only
ornament was a ribbon around the crown,
Mrs. Harding went down into the parlor.
Slid did npt have long to wat, Ten in
utes later Jolm came uo to the door, in an
open phdeton, drawn by the' well known
grays that were the pride of his heart.
Running up the steps, ho opened the door
of the room where his wife sat.
He stared at her, for a moment, in dumb
"Heavens and earth Mary, is that you?
I thought it was-I don't know what
What have you been doing to yourself?"
"I have been trying to carry out the hints
you gave me. this morning ; ip regard to
dress. I hope.it suits you and that you ad
mire its effect?"
"Well, no," responded Mr,. Harding,
taking a critical survey of the odd looking
figure before him. ''I can't say that I do.
To speak plainly you look like a frlghtl"
"I must say John," retorted his wife with
an Injured air, "that you are very diffeult
to suit. I have spent the greater part of
the morning in following the suggestions
you gave me at breakfast and still you find
fault. What is it now I'd like to know?
Hete is the unbroken sweep of skirt; the
classic line of the head-I think that is
what -ora call it. And'you surely can not
say that this hat Is too high, or that. Its ele
gant !sm8icity--I guote yody words-is
destroyed'by any superabundance of flowerr,
feathers and ribbons."
Igr, H'arding tugned very red.
"Tiiat is all 'nonsense, Mary. I had only
three hours at ni'y disposal, andl it's now
half past 8.' I thougnt I should find you
"I shall bj3 ready i'a half a mipute,":re
pliell hla wife tying on her hat.
Mr. Hardlag lookedl at her in hiorritied
"Do you thinkc that I am' going 'o take
you out insuch a dress~as that? Why you
lhek like ap escaped Subaticl''
Just hero the door bell rang.
"It's Judge Howe," said Mr. 'Harding,
as lie listeded to- the voice, In reply to th~e
servant whio answered It. "He's come ex
pressly to see you. For pity's sake go up
stairs and put on something decent. I
.would'nt; hae a see you in that dlowdy
thiiig for' ishy donsiderationl"
"Will you promise-" ,
"I'll promise, anything!" interposed Mr.
Harding drawing his wife toward the door
which opened into the back parlor, and
through which she disappeared just as their
vIsitor was announced..
In analmost incredible short space of
time Mrs. Uarding epteied the parlor where
hier hul} eji.ad tt}h best were seated,
looking ecbdIfferentW tino one not inti
mately acquainted wtth her would have
recognized hier. dSwaonsgho rle
Mr Hardin dwaogsgl frle
as ho looked at the pretty, tastily-attired
woulaq of pvhengjhe had so often spoken to
ils:fridnd,.Judge Hlowe, and to whom lie
was so proud to present her.
~Ii the g~'and ''ailmiated eonversatiou
that followed, and all the pleasant thoughts
'to whichi it gave rise, he forgot everything
p15e; not so w~th Mrs. Hlaring. As soon
pa the door' clo 1d after their visit or, she
I~urnacd her laughing eyes futll upon her
"Now John, let us have a fair and clear
understandirg; I want to suit you If it is a
possible thirig. Which Qf Gjie tiro styles
offdressing do you wish me tro adopt?'"
"I shouldn't suppose you'd ask such a
questioni, Mary. Seeing you once In the
peculiar costume you assumed is quite
enough foi me,' IPaseure ydih""'"/
"I assumed it to please you--don't for
"Ypg~ failed. in,.gopir ojcet, then. To
spehik friahkly, I didn't a pose it 'possible
for you to look yoidgypright ugly In apy
"Yan are not ovar anmpnmanta..,
laughed Mrs. Harding. "But no matter: if
you're satisfied, I am. Don't look so crest
fallen, John; you are net a bit more incon
slatent than the rest of your sex who give
ours so much sage advice in regard to mat
ters they know nothing about. If the wives
and daughters of these modern Solomon.
should dress as they advise other people's
wives and daughters to do they wouldn't
be seen In the street with thon.'
Married Life Atmong the Esquinaux.
It might be supposed, says a correspon
dent with the Schwatka expedition, who
saw something of life among the Esqui
maux, that In such a state of society as exists
among this people there would be no roman
ces, no marrying for love; but that would be a
mistake, for there have been several roman
tic little episodes that came under my ob
servation during my residence in North
Hudson's Bay. There is a poor old man
dwelling with the Iwilliks, near Depot Is
land, named Iteguark, who had two very
attractive and useful wives, or Nu-lee-aug
ar, as is the nWtive term. The old man had
been a good hunter, but a few years ago
met with an accident that resulted in his
right knee becoinngbtiffened, and his hunt
ing days were over. He can still hpnt seals
throng the iae, but cannot work up to them
on top of the ice, nor can he chase the
reindeer on his native hills. Then it was
that Oxeomadiddlee looked with envious
eyes upon the youngest and fairest of Ito
guark's wives and induced her to come and
live with him. She knew that her new
lover was strong and active and better able
to support her than her old love and listen
cued to the voice of the tempter. Iteguark
was not disposed to submit meekly to this
treachery on the part of his friend Oxeo
madiddlee, so one morning while the tru
ant wife and her new husband were
sleeping in their igloo Iteguark
enteredand sought to take the
life of the seducer with a hunting knife.
But Oxeomadiddlee was on his guard and
being a man of immense strength Ie caught
his adversary by the wrist and by the sheer
force of his grip compelled him to drop the
weapon on the floor. He then released his
hold and Iteguark rushed out to his own
igloo and got his bow and quver, but his
enemy was atil watchful and took the bow
and arrows away and destroyed them.
Here ended hostilities. Oxeomadiddlee
paid the old man for his wife and that set
tied it forever. Presently another Inuit
named Eyerloo fell desperately in love with
poor Itegua'k's remaining wife, and with
his arts'and bladishments won her away
from her husband. There was no fight this
time. The poor old man gave up con
ple'tcly, and said the world was all wrong
and lie only waited for his summons to
leave it and mount the golden stairs.
A few years ago an Igloolip Inuit named
Kyack won the affections of one of Iko
mar's wives, and this brought on a duel in
which Kyack came vdry near leaving Mrs.
Kyack a widow. Ikomar got the head of
his enemy in chancery and tightened his
arh around lita neck until Kyack dropped
lifeless upon the snow. He gradually re
covered, and would have returned the stol
enwife, but Ikomar refused to take her
back, and demanded payment instead. This
was tendered to him, and being appeased
by the offer further trouble was avoided.
Punnie, one of Armow's daughters, was,
in jier youth, affilanced to Sebeucktelee, but
when she reached a marriageable age be
came the wife of Conwechungk, her adopt
ed brother. The pretext for this new ar
rangement was that Sebencktelee's father
had not iiade payment at.the time lie made
the wedding contract, and that Punnic
loved Conwechungk better anyhow, and
would take advantage of the omission of
the Intended father-in-law. It made no
difference that Conwechungk had another
wife-In fact, it was all the better on that
account, for lie would have one for him
selbsand another to loan around to Is neigh
bors. When I left Depot island I noticed
that he had not only loaned his first wife
away but had traded his dearly beloved
Punnie for Tockoleegeetais's wife for an
indefinIte period while Sebeucktolco had
taken to his bosom Netchuck, the discarded
wife of 8hockpenark. But life is altogether
too short to allow of ai complete and reli
able record being made of the social gossip
of an Esquimaux village. Intermiatriages
are common, and everybody is related to
every one else in the most intricate and
astonishing manner. I once read of a man
who married a widow, and his father, sub
sequently marrying the daughter of this
same widow, was driven Insane by trying
to ascertain the exact relationship of their
children. Such trifles have no effect upon
the Inult brain or the entire nation would
long ago have become raving maniacs.
According to a Yorkshire notion, a new
born infant should be laid first in the arms
of a maiden before any .one touches it; and
'In seome placestho infant's right hand Is
left unwashed In order that lie may gather
riches. It Is, too, considlered very import
rant by many that an Infant should go up in
the world before it goes down. Thus, in
Cleveland, says Mr. Henderson, "if a child
should be borh In the top story of a
house, for want of a flight of stairs one
of the gossips ill take it in her aims
anid, mount a stable, chatr or chest
of drawers, before she carres It down
stairs." In the north of Enagland when an
lafant for the first time goes out of the
house, it is presented with an egg, some
salt, a little loaf of bread, anid occasIonally
a small piece of money -these gif ts being
supposed to Insure that, the child shall never
stand In need of the common necessaries of
life. lIn the Ea t Ridin11g of Yorkshire a
few matches aro-adoed io light the child to
heaven. It was, too, in former times custo
mary, and the practice is not yet obsolete,
to provide a large cheee and cake and cut
them at the hmth of ea ehilid. These
were called thme "groaning cake and
chmeesr," and were .distributed - arnong all
the neighbors. Inm Yorkshire this cake Is
termed the "pepper cake," and in some
localities the "sickening cake." It Is time
soure of a species of divination, for being
cut Into small pie~ces by the nmedic~l man~lt
Is divided apiohg itlie'unmirried of the fe
file sex, under the name of "d reaming
bread." Each one lakes a piece, places It
In the foot of the left stocking and throws
it over the r~glit abl~de. (is lielng dlone'
the algstfe~ir to belakwai'd, without,
uttering a word, and those who are lucky
enough to fall asleep before midnight are
favored with a aight of their future hue.
bands in theio rae
A Bachelor's Confession.
I live In a French flat. 6f course there
are objections to French flats. So there are
to most things. I can't afford a hotel,and
I detest a boarding house. A bachelor of
thirty odd, who had been at the mercy of
boarding rase keepers all his days, can
easily understand that.
So, when I engaged'a suite of rooms
third floor in a French flat edifice-and ar
ranged my household goods therein, with
a fine lookout over a green dot of a park in
front, and the glimmer of a palisade in the
rear, above a forest of chipping, I consid
ered myself well off.
What is my profession? I haven't any
in particular. I am an artist, and draw a
little; daily, in front of my easel, I contrib
ute to the press, and write when the divine
aflatus seizes me. I read the law when I
feel like it, and draw a little income from
a snug little property left nie by an uncle
in India. Consequently I was able to dec
orate my iew quarters very prettily with
Bagdad rugs, old China dragons, black and
gold Jipanese screens, 'and pictures I had
picked up at a bargain.
And when the fire was burning cheer
fully in the grate, the first rainy M1ay ev
ening, the student lamp sliimug softly on
the red, carved table, and the waiter from
a neighboring restaurant had brought in my
frugal dinner of a broiled bird, a mold of
currant jelly, a slice of roast beef, and a
raspberry dumpling, I considered myself
"Upon tile whole," says I to myself, "I
rather approve of French flats."
I rang the bell.
The janitor-i respectful, decent sort
of a fellow, in a round jacket and carpet
slippers-answered the summons.
"Janitor," said I, "who occupies the
"Nobody, sir," the man answered. "Last
party moved out yesterday, New Party
moves in tomorrow."
"A large family?" said I, rather dubi
"Bless your heart, sir," said the man,
"no family at all-a single lady, sir."
At this I congratulabed myself more and
"I shall have the prospect of a little
peace now, I think,'' said 1, and ate my
dinner in a fool's paradite of happiness.
The single lady moved in on the mor
row. She must have moved in when I
was down town selecting some new mill
boards and color tubes for the summer
sketches that I intended to make, for when
I returned, fondly expecting once more to
enter into my kingdom of peace and seren
ity, everything was changed.
There was a banging and pounding over
head, a thumping and hammering-a sound
as if some middle-aged glantess, in hob
nailed shoes, was enjoying herself in a
I sent for the janitor in a rage.
"Is this house coming down?" said I.
"It's the new tenant a-moVln' in, sir,"
said he, apologetically.
"Does her furniture consist entirely of
Herrng's safes and square pianost" said I.
"There are two pianos, sir," said he.
"The deuce she isl" roared I. "Two pi
anosl And does she play on 'em both?"
"Don't know, sir, I'm sure," said the
man, with a distressed expression of coun
I endured the noise until midnight, and
then I sent up the jani or's wife.
"The third floor's compliments to the
fourth floor, and would like to know if this
sort of thing is to go on all night."
Down came the wonaan again.
"Fourth floor's compliments to the third
floor, and wishes to know if lie expects peo
ple to get settled without a noise."
The next day the piano-only one how
ever-commenced. I was elaborating a
skeleton for a scientitic essay, and it dis
turbed me seriously. I endiured it as long
as I possibly could, and then I had resourc'e
once more to the janitor's wife.
"Third floor's complimeints to the fourth
floor, and 'will feel obliged if she will favor
me with a little peace and quietness, long
enough to do some necessary writing."
There was no reply, and the music ceas
But that evening, when I was begining
to solace myself with a iittle violin prac
tice in the twilight, tap, tap, iap, came the
janitor's wile at my door.
"Fourth floor's compliments to the third
floor, and will feel oblIged if he will favor
her with a little peace and quietness, long
enough to write a letter."
,flow I hate that woman!
So we lived for a month, exchlanging
constant misriles of wai fare. ':could cheer
fully have given up that miserable French
fiat and gone back to boardig, only un
luckily I had engaged it for a year. The
fourth floor elocutionized, and had friends
to select private readings, whose voices
were deeper than Hamlet's, and more so
norous than that, of Charlotte Cushmnan.
She was charitable, and had classes of
heavy-booted girls twice a week, to siing
hymns andi learn to sew, A sigle lady,
indeed! If she had been a quadruple lady
she could not have made more nolse, - nor
enjoyed the making of it more.
At the close of tihe month, however, an
incident happened which turned the
current of my whole life. I went on a pic
nIc. I don't often go to affairs of that
kind; but this was an especially select affair,
gotten up by my friend IHarold Webster.
I went, and there I met Barbara Willis,
andl fell straightway in love with her. She
wasn't exactly young, but neither am I
and to my taste a full-blown rose is sweeter
than a bud, wherever you tind it growing.
She was dark-eyed, with full cherry lips,
satin-brown hair, and a c )mplexion as fresh
as roses and( ivory. We talked--our ideas
coincided exactly. It seieed if~ our souls
were two looking.gjasses, to mirror each
"'Miss Willis," cried I, "why is it that
we have never met before? I feel as if we
were old1, old friends!''
As X spoke I gently pressed her hand,
and she smiled back unutterable things.
I went to my friend Webster, who was
making uip quadrilles on the uipper deck.
We were accompanied by an excellent brass
"Oh, IHarold," said 1, "1 can never
thank you enough for introducing me to
"Do you mean Barbara Willis," .said
lie. "Well, I do think she Is rather a flne
We grow confidential as we, sat together
oil the promiena'de deek and,. watched the
tnoonlhght ripple over the surfaco of thie
"A bacheolor's lifeois btgt half g #fe~ ls
Willis'asaid A:. .
"I can readily imagine that," said she,
"1 live in a flat." confessed I.
"Do you?" said Barbara, (the sweet, old
English name was just like her.) "Why,
how strangel So do II"
"Isn't it dreadful?" said T.
"Horridi" said she, closing her lips as
though she meant it.
"And there's a female dragon occuples
the floor above me and torments me out of
"Well, If this Isn't a remarkable coinci
dence," said Barbara. "There's a detest
able old crab of a bachelor under me, wpd
takes all the pleasure out of my existenb&"
"Should two lives be thus blighted?" said
"I-1 don't think they should," Paid
Barbara, looking intently at the bouquet of
pansies she hela in her hand.
It was past midnight when the boat land
ed. Harold Webster came up.
"I promised to see you home, Miss Wil
lis," said he, rubbing his hands briskly.
"You need not trouble yourself, Webs
ter," said 1. "I shall be most happy."
I called a hack, helped the divine Barba
ra In, feeling more and more as if I wevie
walking in cloud land.
"Where shall I drive to?" said the man.
"No. 69 Ravenal street,"said she, fourth
"What!" cried 1, "not to Fernandino
"Exactly," satd she.
"Why, that's where I livel"
"Are you the third floor?" she cried out,
"Are you the fourth?" I counter-ques
"But you're not a crab at all?"
"Nor are you a dragon. On the contra
But what matters It what we said?
Things were alte.-ed front the very begin
ming. I took my violin up stairs the next
day, and helped my divine Barbara nut
with sonata of Beethoven's. I suggested
a new educational theory for the nabnailed
classes. I listened enchanted to lier ret
tation of Tennyson's Brooh; and at the end
of the quarter we are to oc married-liar
bara and I.
WYhy the Needie Pointa .Northerly.
The reason why the needle points in the
northerly direction is that the earth in it
self is a magnet, attracting the magnetic
needle as the ordinary magnets do; and the
earth is a magnet as the result of certain
cosmical facts, much affected by the action
of the sun. These laws have pei i-Aleities
all of which have not as yet betn deter.
mined. The inherent and ultimate reason
of the existence of any fact in nature, as
gravity, light, heat, etc., Is not known fur
ther than that it is in harmony whh ill
facts in nature. Even an earthquake is in
perfect harmony with, and the direct re
sultant of, the action of forces acting under
general laws. A condensed explanation in
regard to the needle pouting to the- north
ward and southward is as follows: The
magnetic poles of the earth do not coincide
with the geographical poles. The axis of
rotation makes an angle of about 28 degrees
with a line joint to the former. The north
ern magnetic pole is at present near the
Arctic circle on the meridian of Omaha.
Hence the needle does not everywhere point
to the astronomical north, and is constantly
variable within certain limits. At Sain
Francisco it points about 17 degrees to the
east of nortn, and at Calais, Maine, as
much to the west. At the northern nag
netic pole a balanced needle points with its
north end downwards in a plump line; at
San Francisco it dips about 63 degrees, and
at the southern magnetic pole the south end
points directly down. The action of the
earth upon a magnetic needle at its surface
is of about the same force as that of a hard
steel magnet, 40 Inches long, strongly mag
netized, at a distance of one foot. Th'lie
foregoing is the accepted explaiiation of the
fact that the needle points to the northward
and southward. Of course no ultimate
reason can be given for this natural fact, any
niore thn for any other observed face, In
itutter andi Chleese of the Ancients.
From the fact that the ancientwriters of
the Hebrew and Greek schools do not mna
tion butter or cream some have concluded
that neither was known or used up to..nearly
the close of the first century of the Uliristian
era; but this must be a mistake, for no
doubt one of the oils mentioned in the Old
Testament was of a butyraceous denscrip
'ion. The milk of herds and of goats is
spoken of, consequently there must have
been cream, and butter also. produced b~y
the conveyance of milk in skinis on camel.
back, as it, Is fregnontly carriedl In what Is
called the Holy Laad to-day. Th'le ci
mate, in patriarchal tinmes, ais it p~resents,
wouldi not, allow butter t. remain long in a
solid state; and hence Its miention as oil.
This is, however, sijeculative, though more
than probable. Pliny speaks of "cow
cheese," which lie calls butyrum; and thb
nomad Arabs nmade what they called
"kymac," which Is a thickened preparation
of cream almost like butter. It is niade by
shaking creami of goat's milk in a calabli.
The native Ea&st Indians naade butter from
buffaloes' milk, which they called '"ghiee,"
which is simply butter of a thick, oily con
sistency. homer and Virgil both mention
cheese, the for iner that could be cut by a
kmfe-Hlercamnedb being described in the
Iliad as having shred andi scraped goat's
cheese into a posset lie prepared for the
wouinded Machaon. Virgil leaves cheese
with no greater consisteney than curd,
which the Scythians used to mix with
mare's blood and feast upon. Long before
the Christian era the buttery extract fromi
milk was used by the barbarous iiations
and by the liomanis as an ointment, witii
which they anointed children when teeth
log, and applied to their skins to defend
them from the sun. This was butyrum,
ghcc, or imcited butter; and, if it looked
then no more tempting than when presented
forty years ago, under ani Arab tent at the
second cataract of the Nile, it must have
been then, as now, a .very repulsive ap.
pearing article of food,hih a most offen
sive smell of rancidity.
.JBefore thieir~ intercourse with Euro
peans, thieMaoris, according to Mr. J.
W.hStackof theNew Zealand Institute,
had terms only for three colors---whmite,
blaock and red. Ils paper is valuable
as thirowing light ont some of the re
cent hearneod disputations regarding the
color sonse of the Greeks about the
time of the siege of Tkey. It is oniq
thing to appreciate color, anid quite an
other thing to0giv prelse. ey pressign
to that anproMa.a
"Why don't you scare the birds away ?'
says not only one friend but many to me
when I show them my plums, my apples
and pears, picked here and there long be.
fore they are ripe, just as a taste of one and
then another, but enough to spoil the fruit,
and prevent their growing or keeping. It
is vexing-very vexing, I say; but how
am I to scare them? And if 1 do, I
frighten away also the very birds I want to
come, as well as those 1 do not. Then it
is most difficult to scare when you nave a
:o on two sides of. your garden, which
la also crowded with shrubs, besides the
fruit-trees, the latter being either close to
gether or growing as ornameuts among the
shrubs and flowers. Then there are 200 or
more In an orchard that does not quite join
the garden, but also have a wood on two
"Ifave a boy," said my friend. "Let
him have a watchman's rattle, and make
him go about with it. That'll scare
"Possibly it might-," I rejoin, for a
while, perhaps a week, but not more; and
only think of the noise of the rattle perpet
ually going from morn to night close to
your house, and another joining chorus,
tor rather making a duet, from the orchard.
It would be just as unpleasant for myself
and friends as for the birds. Besides, the
boy will not come until seven mn the morn
ing, and then go at six In the evening. It
would be before and after those hours the
birds would do the mischief ; they would
watch him coie and go even to his meals;
and, besides, In a day or two they would
get so used to the sound that they would
scarcely fly before him."
"Nol" said my friend, "not they.''
"But it has been tried,'- say 1, "and
(toes not answer."
"Well, there are plenty of other means,"
I get in reply.
'Name them," sy 1.
"Tie scarlet worsted about the trees you
want to save.1
"I have tried it, and no result. Feathers
on strings will do for a while, and so on;
looking-glass, inste'ad of frightening, at
tracts some birds."
"Al I well," says my friends, "it's all
nonsense; it can h)e done if you like; but
the fact is you don't care and don't try,
.You are wrong," say I. "Come and
sit here in the shade, and I will tell you a
few attempts to frighten the birds. Awhile
ago a friend of mine had a cherry-tree full
of cheruies. They were fine and good; s,
to preserve them from the birds, he put i
bell up in the tree, and brought a string
through the window of his bedroom that
was tied to the bell, so that early in the
morning he could ring the bell as lie was
lymg in bed. The first and second morn
ings the effect on the birds wai all that
could be desired; the third he pulled at
the stl'ing, and found the bell did.not sound
well; so he got up to look, and there, sit
ting on the bell, was a magpie, trying with
difliculty to balance himself as the bell was
pulled to and frol In three mornings the
birds had got used to the scare."
"Another one I will tell you. Mr. Brock,
of the Crystal Palace, gave me some Japa
iese- kites; very curious figures they were.
These, I thought, would seare the birds if
flown occasionally. I took then home,
and on the following day I flew one, and
when it was about fifty yards up, or there
abouts, the birds caine far and near to ob
serve it; larks in partieular, also swallows
and martins-round about, the kite they
and others flew, going close to It chirping
and twittering, quite a throng of them; I
should say there were foTrty or more all to
gether. After a short time, by ones, by
twos and threes, they went away. I low
cred my kite (which, by Lhe way, repre.
sented a Japanese lady) and put it away.
A few days after a visitor from London
came, and, walking around the garden, I
said(, '1 will showv you a curious sight pre
sently.' 8o I got out uiy kIte, and' away
it went, higher anu higher. I let out all
my string, but never a bird came to lkok at
it-not one. I was astonish~ed. My friend
looked at the kite for a short time, and
then said, 'I don't see anything in particu
lar in that.' 'No,' said 1, 'but 1 do0.' Then
I told him how the birds swarmedi about
at when I flew it before, and~ I expected
they would again. But no such thing; in
one flight they had got used to It, and were
neither frightened nor caited( about it in
any way. Nor did( they afterwards, whieni
I again tried another Japanese figure-not
one came to see it. Againi, I have put
clothes stuired v.'ith straw, representIng a
man, up ini the garden to scare thme jaiys.
Glomg out early on the third morning afteur
One was fixed, [ saw a jay sitting on the
hat of the figure with somegreon pea-pods,
enjoying them In a most contented way.
No, my friend, 1 have never yet found
any 'bird-scare' a nawer for more thanm three
dlays, and seldom11 so long. Trying to scare
birds is one thing, doing it is another, and,
as a rule, you do more harm than good, for
you frighten the more thnid, such as the
warblers, from doing you the good, while
the bold, such as black-birdsm, jays, etc.,
arc not deterred. So I thInk your idea of
scaring is not of much use."
"Wel l," saidl my friend, rising, ''what
(10 you (do?"
"Net thme trees and the strawberries
where 1 can, and lot the others take their
chance. Losing time fruit is not so bad as
losing the birds. A bushel or I~wo of fruit
sp)oilt Is not so diflIcult to bear with as
whole trees denuded of bloom-buds."
llere my friend looked at his watch.
"'Lear' mie 1'' said he, "'I shall lose tihe
train,'' anr1 ho made ior the garden gate
with more tha.hl, accustomed speed; amid
just as he passed through I saidl gently to
"Your watch Is a little slow, I think."
"Ah ," said lie, and away he ian.
"That's a scare," said I to myself, as I
sauntered up the pathway to the house;
"but, like those for the-birds, it won't last
An amateur musician of great natural
genius played the "Anvil Chorur, ' on a
piano to a few friends the other nignt.
After he hiad banged the piano nearly to
iecos, he stoppedi and turning to Gilhoolf',
"Now, Mr. Gilhoolj, I want yotir can
did opinion about my skill."
"My opinion." said Gillhooly, "alp't
worth a cent. I never worked ha a iloller
shop or a blacksmith shop. ln may life, but
Bob nere, has. Ask hun."
Bob said it was the best thing of theo
kind he had heard for years and yet the
inusieal cuss was pleased enough .to send
across the street for a pitchet' of beer and
Uses of Tar.
Twenty years ago one ot the most offen
sive refuse products from manufacturing
industry was that known as gas tar. It
was surreptitiously got rid of by throting
it into the rivers, and formed the ghastly
blue patches known as "blue billy." .This
substance, by the aid of the chenalst's art,
has been lifted up from its lower.place, and
no 'nds forth as the source of somhe of
ti 'iseful products in the arts; but
It. color and odor have been trans.
nit, the most beautiful dyes, and
the i. delicious flavors. The offensive
refuse-this poor, rejected Cinderella-has
now become the queen of the by-products
of our manufactures. Instead of its being
furtively put out of sight, factories have
sprung up alongside of the gas works to
enable the chemist to transmute their gas
tar and ammoniacal liquors into a score of
differeut products of wholly different na
tures ; and the curious thing is, that many
of them are, as if by magic art, elevated
from this dire nuisance lato materials which
appeal to the sense of- beauty and delicacy
in every form. Among other prMucts of
gas tar as of Insufferable smell is benzole,
which, with nitric acid, produces nitro
benzole. a body resembling in odor bitter
almonds. It Is greatly used for the pur
pose of perfuming soap. Bensole, itself)
is a body of great solvent powers, and one
of the most effective removers of grease
stains known; whereas the source from
which it springs is one of the greatest soll
era in existence. .Naptha is a product of.
this tar-the ,ource of light in many facto
ries removed from gas works; when treated
with turpentine it is transmuted into cam
phine, and illuminates our drawlug-rooms.
Naptha Is also used in dissolving the va
rious guns, rosin, etc.; india rubber, gut
ta-percha, and by instrumentality, a hun
dred new substances are introduced to the
world. Aniline, the base of the dyes bear
ing that name, is obtained from the action
of nascent hydrogen or nitro-benzole. It
seems almost incredible that the delicate
tones of color known under that 'name
should issue'from so foul a source; but it Is
so. The arts would, indeed, be deprived
of one of its most beautiful embellishments
if this new agent had not been discovered.
A brilliant yellow is again produced'by the
action of nitric acid. Carbolic acid is con
verted into carbonic acid. Even red dyes,
but of a very ephemeral character, are pro
duced from napthaline. Almost all the
colors of the rainbow isaue from it; but In
the absence of all color lampblack is made
by burning with slight access of air the
least volatile component of gas-tar. Among
the light oils of tar are some which, with
the heavy oils, are ellective In preserving
wood from rotting, and tar creosote, carbol
ic acid, which is a most powerful antisep
tic, and one which will come greatly into
use now that the nation is becoming more
careful of its health. The production of
alum and sal ammoiac, although it cannot
be said to be recovered from the refuse of
gas works, can with truth be said to be pro
duced from the refuse of coal mines-the
shale which roofs them in. Formerly this
was a waste material which occupied a vast
spuce, like the spelter heaps. It Is now
utilized by our dyers and color printers to
fix their colors. This product is made by
setting fire to the shale, and heating the re
siduum in Iron pans with sulphuric acid,
with the addition of the gas liquor, when
the result is ammoniacal alum.
Cremation In Bally.
The Italians are resolved to make the
system of cremation as perfect as possible.
The headquarters of tke institution at
Milan have recently received a very singu
lar addition. Its customers were con.
fronted with a difficulty which at first had
not been anticipated. The diffidulty was
to know what they were to do with the
ashes of their deceased relatives. It seemed
imp~roper that ordinary sepulture shlouild
follow so uniusual a procoss of cremation.
The management at Milan'has at last found
Its way out of the difficulty. Incineration
Is, after all, but a revival of an old fashion,
and it was only necessary to follow out the
usages of its originators in order to cause
all difliculty to disappear. The Crematory
Temple at Milan is to have an annex,
whiclh will, in fact, be a cemetery. The
municipalhty has already selected its archi
tect andI approvedi the plans which he has
furnished. The cemetery, when completed,
will differ as widely from an ' ordinary
grave-yard as cremation differs froif an
ordlinary sepuiture. it will be an Etruscan
building, thirty-six feet high- by about
twenty feet long, and will be furpished
wvithi recesses, 120 in number, according to
the present design, in each of which sev
eral cinerary urns can be placed. The
aulthorities are so confident of the selccess
of the undeortaking that they have ordered
vaults or catacombs to be constructed un
der thme nave, and these will become the
p~rivate prop~erty of families. The practice
of ci emnation seems to have made more way
in Italy than in Germany, to which two
countries of Europe it has as yet been al
most entirely conined.
Mark Twain'g LOUK Book.
Receipt for 19ow England pie:-To make
this elegant breakfast dish, proceed as fol.
lows. TVake a sufficiency of dour, and
construct a bullet-proof dough. Work this
into, a form of a dish, with the 'edges
turnedl up sonic three fourths of an inch.
Toughen and kiln dry it a couple of .days
in a imilid, but .unvarying temperature.
Construct a cover for the redoubt in: the
same way and of the same material. Fill
with stowed dried apples. agglratate with
cloves, lemon po6l and labe of citront' add
two p~orthons of New Orleans' sugar then
solier on the-lid and set in a safe place till
it potrifles. Servo cold pt brealcfast and
invite your eneniy.
German Ooffee: Take a barrel 'of *ater
and bring- it to a boll; rub a clifory berry
against a cofee berry, then convey. the
former into the water. Contipie he boil
ing and evaporation until the ipalty of
the lavor and aroma of tlie COt and
chicory has boon diminished to a proper
degree; then set adido to cool; Noir un
harness the remaIns of a once cow. tromn
the, plow, insert themn in hydraulic, press
and when yoti shall have acqmred a. tea
sponful of that pale. blue 'juidewhich a
(Gerinan superstition regards as imik,
modify the malignit,of its strength In a
bucket of, topjdwyater. and ring up the
ag arouhd yodrbd a 6 gut~ua ,. ,