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The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, October 02, 1901, Image 11

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn93067846/1901-10-02/ed-1/seq-11/

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. ARIZOM AS ? H^f KESORT.
" . - I,,-'
Consumptive* by T*nt??H^M? tt?l>W??
Itself-Those who Brm?^tfc? Midsum
oer Heat are SaidtoDerfr* the Great?
est Benefit? \ V ^l/
The extreme :aridir^pi^^
..ias cai^'-^^?ownfag^^^y5:?- w???
la?df agricnlttiraV
, sun-kissed Territc^t^t??^^sr;:0n?\C>f
ifs great m?rits -?s^^?t??M^sbrt, <says
: . . the New York?-SOU^?^^^: - -
Ir is a generally accepted' theory nowa?
days-that Si^&Jik^k^^^^^^ "he
: stamped out only hyi?he^^s^^?n; of > Its
victims and an ahsol?^^?t^dfrd?or -.life
for them. The first, co^^^m??ifes?y
? impossible in the crpw?^^ft^31^0 Va?
second is feasible^ onX^^^W^&a?rT^i^?
tore is most -.h?ne.SC?^|^i^^^?>-?^?.
never goes into, ^?a^^^jf^^^^.-'^
time, where the-^re?z^^;i.ot too danton
iind; where the-:^h? ^^^^^^^^.t^?
\ from, vapors -as -the1 .'d?^^:f?#*-'*;: '-V'^
J?llv?hese conditions ?fo^^g;^>lute; cure
orthe/aniei^
b? ^
particularly --i^l^^^g^^^^y??eh.:
V ., Jfcriz:; . Within its" area??^^^,v??cres;
?S nnSgation ia app^
desert where li e
?ielief ?<>i}..?&<$n?n^^
sons-and there are. but"tw^-four months
of summer" and the "Test o^fthejy?ar-a per
V ' Xpfciual sprin^^'??S^^^^^a^^|E3ie'
. skies are a cloo??essiiblfca^^
;.-. tiat . it <^fc almost'^
a vera ge to
/eeivab?e? -toi'the .sweltern^^^?n^>;?f^he
\v.c???t ^dv^??x^on|^^^^^^ \ ?
' For X>ec?mber; ?xi^^0^^^?i^?i?^s^
hird- warbles ??^?.^a1^^^^%^^^
lum to his^bibwa':^miil?^^^^e^cqttptt?:
yt?od&i-iheXtv?l ,0rcneSti?|!^^
blackbirds follows : ;tSe|^??d^atp^$sabfe
p?^eCentbr: wtov^ts; ^
andv^coBtfets^
/. : cfcuir^rp^
^^^^-'^
*sn?a??b^
Ir*?ian/pp^
-. nies, are the order of the^d?y I ; In Febru
.ary"-fh?.J^tlmb^;'o
V desert's northern:^dge^St^^^?o^^na?;
^ of - pink white bloom^fl^^^igrj?^?s'
... -:^ar??hud!&?^
"l^ves^send; ^
.around." " '. ?
^ -the ^
ab^erong/in^
^i^p^e^er^^
^ . days and- of ten
.'_ st?rr^^?a^
. ; -throughout vthe
cold.': Th?re^;was'^
?^hen:'?ce- "foruaed? ^.^?^^^^&??k^pii
?r -i. ibV^^.; and ^nV^sj^^IJ?^s^.ti^^
. ; mght/c?e^
. welcome. ; ^Blankets/ s?^^^^^i^^ii^
/ winter.: :Ye? ; wi?h .^?I^pi^?^^^r^^si?CL
. . gordal spring.;again?????ts^?^f?lse^^?Th?s-:'
-/^difference pf ; tempe^^
and to
- "perfect climatic eon?itipDs; ^ForewT^ed,::
:* ^weveii-is. for^rm?^js^l; w^^plenty-:of
; bedding;^
o jte-n?-dangeri.pf ^taJs?^?^^^^-^- \
It is. a KstKtaae tjt?ng^abbtrt this" desert
nTe; that.it^
- acpjsai?tashc^^
- t?rpe ?-t?
' nappy >els^^
Tbereiieed be" np .r^ese^^Sionii ab^t tiiat I
statenk^nt:>^or!!^da^s^??^^?^?^^^ *
- mpnt?t?rjfrxjgfe^^
- gree; ^v?^?de
abs^ce^ of^i?mi?d^?ms^
. ?^sier^-to^bea^'than
.vitalised: ?^;^
; 'There 'were ^?o/^sunisS?^
trati?ns., Kanchers;went?a^
. suffermg npvt? /' ?> ;.-;
ri?^bugh. the; m^^
turni their-f^
e?U?Cfe^orjr^/o?
and-feuMtm. ate. s^
l benefit at /this seasp^
, s^ms^ to heal the
the germs. Sufferers:-frpn^S^ey."^
y or ^heuinatJsnX; also l'wis^. i?i?r. greatest
. * '; gain in summer. ' ^~ ^. i 1
: While neariy everyjiran^^in^he
stands readyi.?OT'
tts doors - to the . tnjaa?d^^e'bdst' results
. ; are- to^b? 'attamed |frbn^
desert itself.; Tne^^^
gated at stated':1^ry?^'^?^r?^?rU^ no
;-. . mantis land, is. drynessi^fise?^ '?>:> ;iV .,
Although the camper, assured>o? squat?
ter sovereignty,^.'ns?T;seit?ii?'"b^;c^v^- es?
tablishment where h?w^^ftt?k, qeustion of
a wnvenient waferi^tup
select a site near , a ranch? ?: quarter , wiil
pay fpr .?^arrelfnl:-p^;iii^b;,iwM?r;>au?ed/
each: week.on ??stone bp^^rrpm the irri?
gation ditch, whSe "tw.olb?iiir^^
: ^the rsw?x?ging olia, or ^eilca?u.w?ter jar,
; ; -filled, and provide waterier fessing, from
^ome adjacent.rwelL ?-^Otfie?^^'ppHes^i?Te
also" readily' obtained^ .^T^e^ndlans bring
to from the reservation^^ of
mesquite and iron wood^^??ch, they retail
for SI 75 or" 52 .a-jlpad^i^e?vthe. same
amount will buy dry a2a^di?fig:au apri?
cot "wood from the orcha^s^ which have
^ died for lack of wateri;-;^E^gbt&g.p^
are ajso popular; an?^?t?i ^yho- will can
gather for .himself the. Sotsani/and jetsam,
of the desert . -' ^^ .',-- ^' '
'Fruits may '?^fo?^bc?^'^^'t?ie orange
groves and adjacent orcbicrds-at. a. reason?
able price and ofT delici?^ <?ual?ty. ' The
roll-call of native fnn^?icludes oranges,
grape frjut,' ?l^on^/c^^cp^ ~ peaches,
pears, pomegranates, " figs^ Tgrapes, neeta-,
rines, phims, berries and? melons galore.
Kwh Jersey milk may be>obtained at itiej
ranches for five cents a^?pia^-buttejr for
twenty-five cents a. pound, V honey-^-deli
ctous as the famed honey of-.Hymettis
fifteen cents a pound. Tee,. artificial, can
be obtained at any of the; towns at sixty
cents, a hundred. The markets of 'Phoenix
- "supply the-best 'b?tf?^^'^tto?^'inxt2?e~
world at live and let-Hve^ri^es.. Groceries-,
are high, owing to the flight rates, but
the stores would be a csedit to; ahy city
of New York State outsidp the metropolis.
An accurate asecount of??iv?ng expenses
kepr during the last yea^jtorva;. family of
three adults and a child?^owe4 an aver?
age of $40 a month for dable expenses, $5
for water, service and {Sundry; oil and
repairs, $2 35, and fuel, 53^0. \.
Wh?e the table expensesHseem dispropor?
tionately high, it must^je borne in mind
that hyper-feeding and t?e? generous provi?
sion of the most nouris?ng meats and
foods are a large factor nt tfce recovery of
. the consumptive. For thexp?rson addicted
to the use of ham, bacon?and canned goods
the outlay would be matei?ally:diminished.
Tents may be rented'foKfrom $3 to $7. a
month, according, to. farnishing-but the
majority of campers prefer to own their
canvas homes. TheseV?ah be bought in
any of the larger towns,' new or second?
hand. They are all putt?hwiith siding and
board floors, and are usoaSQy screened from
the intrusive fly-and afeo furnished with
a fly or second cover. 'She^stage settings
and furnishings may beKias luxurious or as
simple as individual tastefand the pocket?
book demand. A stove, two or three chairs,
a dresser or makeshift-T^and one learns to
be an expert in the maleer of-makeshifts
on the desert or frontier-a. bowl, pitcher
and pail of tin, agate or^paper-these are
the necessaries. X.uxuri<jp;3n. the way of
. rugs, hammocks, book s^elv^s and pillows,
pillows, pillows may be added ad Iib. When
light housekeeping is-.?an?ed on-and this
is the general scheme-choking utensils,
dishes, a screen cupboard" and an icebox
must be added to the list
A horse and some sori-pf cart or wagon
are esteemed essenttat-j^rts pf onevs out
J*
fit;: Nor is this.an extravagance, for norse-.
. flesh and pasturage are "both cheap, and
the --whiA^^^e^xm^t '- usually be'
sold: at cost when there is no longer ne?
cessity for their use; %?L good solid- m??h
.tainvpony which was. a delight under the
saddle and a faanily friend in front of the
t^^S'eate? "Democrat," with . harness,:
;:Wbip and aH'. complete, cost the writer ia
trifle less -than $50 and was sold at the end
- of the year for %X?. Pasturage on an ad?
' jacent ranch cost $150 during the winter,
$fc in the summer.
::' .~NeitherN barns nor sheds-are a necessity
fdr the h*orse,: but a: brush shed br Indian
? fvrataw is an all-important adjunct to XtSie
-tents if one would be comfortable. Urid?r
j its kindly shade the hammock is swung,-.
r?he -table set, the water jar hung, nearly
all the operations of daily living carried
oh. These vataws are copied af ter the In?
dians'. They -are made - of stout cottonwood
poles, covered with brush and leaves.held
Sin- place by the all-pervasive baaing wire,
which, plays suca a oeneficent part in. all
the. ^rations and vicissitudes of Arizona
riife.
P^Sbte. Question is often; asked: Is not the
desert life monotonous? To this the answer,
is:-That depends. To one who loves the
'^procession of rthe-seasons, the rugged,
/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 mar
terial.
^Forthe rider of hobbies-and a hobby is
a good thing to, take an invalid's mind off
: ?hjs.Ills-thereis an endless variety of sub?
jects.; The myriad mounds left hy the pre-,
historic peoples invite to archaeological re?
search, with the certainty- of finds of ihe
old Aztec pottery-if nothing more. For the
-botanist, geologist, mineralogist, ornitholo^
f gist and entomologist there is material rich
: and-i'rarej For the ethnologist there - ax*
; ?the. indians and Mexicans, to Say nothing
\ foi" stray representatives of every .nation
::thatv?n the ear?b doth dwell!
i^For the artist and the. photographer there'
Saxeskies and lights and shadows;.^dVsub
;^ects to be. found nowhere else. ' For the-:
-Sportsman- -there is small game a plenty--;
?End .for the one who simply wants toniest
.land let the world gp by-a peace unspeak?
able. .
' ."It . goes without ; saying: 7 that ; no. one ;
^ould take up-the desertlife if in a^'phy
:^<^;: condition that. demands the attend
;?ice"vOf a doctor, or a hurry can upon the
y&ug^isl For such ; the town. Neither
?^^^one^co^^iher'': without " money,
S?iihking .he can soon earn a living. There
\is. .no light "work for invalids. Grown-:
'strong or at .least familiar with the "lay-,
bf ihe.land, --there .are various occupations
thatmay he taken up. *f one .can command
.^?icapitaL. Ch?cken:raisingr"bee , culture?
.vegetable and alfalfa growing-melon, rais
::ing "or a. stock farm-will each furnish sa
?'gbod. living. : - v . .'. :
^.This, nowever,, comes later-and theres
; must he means to live on in the interim.
I4lflp?sslble, ;eyery invalid, should have5
^s&me memberof -his own "family with/him;.
While scores of . men "and occasionally ., ag
woman come alone, ;.the chances of recbv
ery are much greater when there is no
^ dangerof homesickness. All these condi
.-t?bns -met with, a two-years' residenoMn;
.-tents on- the desert has .demonstrated the'
.fact; tha?/ahnost without exception there
is marked gain and often complete cure.
;In cases : in which the cure'has been begun
in time. many. haye, been able: to return to
their homes .?entirely-well.. .Others,. appa
-xet?tly recovered, have, deemed it wiser to ]
rcatst 1&enr fortunes with the Territory, and
"J?av? .given ' permanent setting to their,
lares and penates. . Three only,.out of one
i.colbny ot:bne hundred who had come for,.;
: their , health, returned home to die. / With
this showing the. desert tent, life- for con
-sumptives. seems to need no further com
inaendation; to prove its efficacy.
(?I;, A.. JJJ7CKY -J&QOKA G-BNT.
He Meets with a W arm Reception as the j
Be?nlt of Mistaken Identity.
; There is a farmer living just north of .
Evanston and a book figent somewhere in ,
the cosmopolitan desert of Chicago, each
of whom feels that he is the victim of a
cruel Circumstance, says the Chicago
Chronicle. . 7
>l?astvweek the; farmer had a note.fr?m
'a nephew to .say that che -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 his1 sister's jonly child. But the
young man failed to come. After wait?
ing .until the..: last passenger had disap?
peared the old man drove away, disap?
pointed. .
The book agent entered into the drama-.
[tis- personae early the next-morning.
Looking over the top .rail of the barn?
yard gate he called, "Hello, uncle."
- 'The book agent never got such a recep-. .
tion^ b?&re 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, folio wing the farmer into-the
house and explaining that everybody
at home was'as hwell as could be ex?
pected. Not tlU the agent was full of
;a boneda dinner and .attempting to sell
-a book did the farmer . began to see a dim
light. - Charged with impersonating : the
missing nephew, the agent explained,
j 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 he may find an electric
current in the latch-string. \ ,
WH EA T IN KANS A Si
Thousands of ^nshel? Piled on the Open '
-^Sod WaitibSr for Transportation.
For the first time in its history, says
XesSe's-Weekly, Kansas has more wheat
than it knows what to do with. Not only,
/axe, the granaries and bins running over
with grain, but the elevators are filled
and the farmers are still bringing it to
markefc by hundreds of thousands of
bushels. The tong 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 bad
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 haul?
ing the grain from the shocks to the ma?
chine. 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 ' 1
high price is giving the farmers a fine in?
come.
As the strings of wagons came to mar?
ket in 'the wheat belt the railroads' were
swamped. They could not furnish cars i
and the elevators were soon filled to over?
flowing. Even in the small stations twenty .
to thirty teams were waiting to be un?
loaded 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 ?
3s 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 i
that the demand for the ship subsidy j
scheme does not proceed from the alleged
beneficiaries theory. "Subsidy or no sub- ,
sidy, the ship building interests of the \
country do not appear to be in a languish- j
ing condition," remarks the Transcript, i
"The law of supply and demand does not i
cease its operations to await legislation, j
and just now the ship builders do not seem ]
to be worrying much about the future." j
The real benefits would be confined to a i
limited clique, which, with the assistance i
of the politicians, are making all the de- <
maud. ' j
i STYL?S M MEN'S DRESS,
. --y .?_
FASHIONS THAT WILL BE FOPl
'LAE THIS FALL AND WISTES.
Sombre Color? ns:? and Neat Effects-Da
and Evening Skirt?-Wrinkles in Col
lars-Very Few Chan??? from Lat
; Tear.
(Prom the Haberdasher.)
The coraing1 autumn and winter seaso
?frill differ hui" little in the sartorial sens
from- that of'last year. The changes ha\
been very few, and in the main represer
;sbmel slight modification , of or departui
from, standards that have "become ver
; familiar. M?n's dress is bein?: held dow
to very conventional lines. The run <
?color that- was the distinguishing featui
"of"last~year ls .to be curtailed and cole
iwill not be prominent in anything; tha
man wears. Sombre tones in overcoating
and suitings and -very neat color effects i
cravatings and shirtings will form th
most prominent and distinguishing featui
in the mode^df .the coming season.
|pXhave.?observed in.looking over the nei
goods for autumn that all that is calle
new, , paradoxical though, it may seem, i
really old. This, is the modern tendency i
all-things related even in the slightest de
degree to art. -The painters are drawin
on the old schools for inspirations, design
-ers are: revelling in the aft of the sever
:teenth century/house decorators are copy
lng old interiors 'and furniture and the ai
.cM.teets are^rawing inspirations from th
Greek and Roman ' schools. In dress w
are modifying or. changing fashions tha
haye' been in vogue, before. The culross
&he wing collar,; the skirted greatcoats an
: tieVnew- riarfow^tip shoes are mere revi
vals of old-time, favorites.
? - ".' ?_
STYLES IN SHIRTS.
-?In .shirts-1 ; look for very few change
and^'racticalljr'no innovations: For dres
?the -plainlinen;bosom shirt, with ;sligh?:
rbuhdedlor square link cuffs attached, wil
berthe" best form. The bosoms-will be a
wide^as the: chest of . the wearer admits
The-, stitching- will be of moderate width
Some; of - tie dress shirte ^ill - have ver:
fin? ribbed' pique bosoms, but I do no
tliii^ be as generali:
: accepted" as-^th?t plain bosom. There wil
?^^t?M^-:.'sfod'v?ples- in- the bosoms, tm
of rwhich ^l'.show in .the waistcoat open
nig;; The.shiri^i?r wear with the evening
'jacket iwiir be the same as-that worn wit!
-the WaUowtail-ooat.? Some shirt maker
show a fine-pleated shirt for wear with thi
jacket, and no doubt.it will be quite pop
?ulat; ;With^tne^unger ; set. The colorei
shirts f of 7 day : wear show, , witii plaii
besoms. and i the patterns are . noticeably
'.hea? Jl$ie"figures are printed on made
plans or"on satin broches or percales. Th<
former- fabrics ; are, given more. attentioi
in ?ihe finer shops than, percales are. Th<
figures arev neat geometricals in black
dark bluevjreds or lavender; stripes ar?
alsb:v displayed. They are narrow ant
widely 'spaced.
^Pleated colored shirts will figure quit<
prommentlyfdr?wear with business 1 suits
The plain neglige with a centre pleat abc
made of madras br of fine flannels wil
also be.;worn. 'The-flannels are d?sign?e
for neglige and come In - rather neal
stripes. ?
COLLARS AND CRAVATS.
In collars the three new styles'.are the
-wing, poke and straight stander. Thes?
are iri:J>oth; wideband narrow stitching. The
"wid?"st?tched"wtng collar is not as'sightly
as that with .narrow stitching, owing tc
the liability/of the edg?i where the wing
bends, to swell and. gap. The wing collars
have .well .balanced, moderate spaced
;wingsV the bottom of the wings forming a
straight line.-' V
.In crav'ats.v?l? o?.the forms are large.
The culrosses -will be very broad and soft,
the ascots .wide of end and free of lining.
The' best fbur-hvhand 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. bab>wihg>shape. For evening wear
there is a 'new tie. It is .cut perfectly
straight - and - bas square ends. It is of
uniform - width . throughout. Wien tled.it
shows a square,; flat .centrepiece and the
en?si stand out .straight and come to the
edge of the shirt bosom.. .
- In clothes'i 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
arid whites ul day dress. All of this I. do
not think will amount to much. The best
tailors are making trousers rather wide,
but avoiding, the peg-top form. The trous?
ers are "about seventeen?,.--and one-half
inches at the knee and &?teen and one
half: at. the .bottoms.- They will hang per?
fectly ,strjdght from the hips. For even?
ing 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 mate?
rial 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
improve' upon the existing standard. The
fr?ck coat will be. practically?- the same
as last y?af.'..
The e-*ening Jacket will not be made at
all by smart tailors. It Is now a ready
made,' ".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 -arid side pockets and silk-faced
shawl collar and will close with two but?
tons. These coats are designed for home
and club wear and are worn with single-,
breasted 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 club In.
NOVELTIES IN DRESS.
One of the best tailors on the avenue
will introduce several novelties this com?
ing, autumn. One of these is an evening
suit made of dark gr?y 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,1
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
bc made of a heavy rep sifk and lined
with silk. The colors are very brilliant.
The trousers are made like pajama trous?
ers and fasten about the waist with a
broad bit of ribbon, with large silk tassels
at the ends. The coat is cut double-breast?
ed and has large pockets. The suit may
be worn with a silk 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 "Raglan" will only be in rain?
proofs 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,
R'hile conforming to the lines of the body,
io not .accentuate them. The military
iacket is passe. The new jackets will be
loose and will have perfectly straight
backs.
In shoes the principal departure is in the
?hape of the toe. The latest model snows
:he flat last with the outswung sole, but
the tip is brought in to a much narrower
point than last year's model. Low shoes
Rill be worrrdurins; the autumn and on
pleasant days during the winter, but many
ook upon the low shoe as a mere winter
"ad. The patent leather shoes with kid
:ops will be the formal footwear. Shoes
alli be very plain for dress, and quite
?laborately trimmed for neglige and busl
iess wear..
O UK TM CH if IC AL SCHOOLS.'
They Furnish'"-"the Best Bridge Bxti?d
Tool Malt er* an rt ita ll way Construe
io the World-European Methods li
been Adapted Bather than Adopted.
(From, the Brooklyn Eagle.)
Merchants and statesmen to-day >
grat?late themselves upon the wonde
spread of this country's commerce,
greatest any nation has ever seen. .
they do not, perhaps, realize that the
tion has advanced in another w?y^tha
possibly the true core.'o'ilour, national ;
cess. This is the extraordinary; ?dy?
in scientific learning,' as shown in
universities, prof?ssiona?; and techn
schools ;and in everyday-life.- It) this TJ
moulding of America" in'to' a' scientific
tion does not fully account -for the c
mercial victories, it has at jail' events' <
tributed lamely t? ffient* """"" " """
So pronounced has been the develops
of these universities and schools that :
at the beginning of :the -century they :
pass those of Europe. And yet s?rpas
is by no means the ' right ;word. ..Ther
no institution in Europe' resembling tl
or organized on Quite the 'same plan. '
scientific school of; America in Its gr
of what really constitutes practical, exi
sive .training has ; no counterpart Kjtnr
world. It turns out'scientists, that ari
the same time ' wc-rkmen of the -'. higi
type. The universities ; ' and t?chn
schools , of England and the Continent,
cellent-as many of {them, are, have "not :
ly caught the spirit and-trend bf tie ti:
The tree of the viiew ; American scient
education is being known-by- its fruit,
has brought a new- sort, ?pf workman i
the field- of labdr; ;andiEuropean ind
try ,stands by, wondering why lier: ref
sentatives cannot do .as well.
The explanation -"of. it js all;veryr .simj
however. American. technical educ?t
had- its .first beginning: fifty years a
Within, the past twenty-five years ;th? ?
entific professionaIvschbols: have been s
: lng -their true development.' Now t??*-cc
bined .results have- become, so. great tl
they are .apparent ail?over. the. world
; "The ; earliest . technical.. schools;'*;-, wr
Prof Mendenhali,'^re^?nt of the Te?
riorogicatlnstitut?? of Worcester, Mass,
his . monograph on : "Scientific,. Techni
and Engineering Education m. the XInii
States," prepared for theTecent Paris I
position, /'thosei^
for more,-'almost wi?hout, exception; gr
rout of the; industrial. demands of the loc
ity in' which they -were founded. One
the best examples', is the f ?m??sTSchpol
?Mines, at "Freiberg,.- which hasr enjoyed
flpng- and illustrious- c?reer,. and many
the earlier ?iu-opean schools;Tielong to t
'same class. "To t&es?-and-theMinore mc
??ern schools of science and technology t
y??ited States'-ar? greatly indebted, esi
?ci?lly on account of - the generous w
<come that has' always ,;.bee?^'.extended
.Am?ricah studentsiand/for tbein^pirati
Swith. which many' pf j th?in. haVe. return
to. take their partthe wonderih? educ
tional evolution which the last;-half ce
itury has witnessed. c^
"But in all cases^European methods ha
been adapted rather''th?n;adopted; * *
>nd while the-?earlylW. schools of- seien
and engmeering-sea^ereclvoyer- the; Unit
States have -many points pf resemblam
fthere, is much" individuality,' part?cu?ai
-{among th? strong?st;im'd^ fc
lieved, that :their' several types 'represe
important advances ;in the: direction,
scientific and: techn-ie?l-education.":
This matter of; sclen?fic-Training f
youth, makes -but- a conservative, qui
claim, though yet^'substantial. one: I
might have pointed to"some ?f tne resul
of these fbellev??? ta -he .'important a
vanees.'-- Amerlcan^technlcal school gra
uates have come ftp be' the- bridge nuilde
of the world. - There are-no steel maker
no tool makers in; Europe equar t? tl
pool, keen youngr-scientists in ; America
shops and ' mflls; r iNor has tVe. Contine:
and Englands such- a rac? of - r^lway coi
?truction engineers.* ' Only .this summer tl
Massachusetts Institute - of iTechnolog
held examinatiohs^irt Bondon.fpr the-your
Englishmen of'scientific. tastes,/ who,. . 1
learn what they- wanted to- fit ' th?m f<
the scientific world/found their only r<
; course an American/ schobL-; . Andy In ti
field of,medicine, fpur;distingnished, phys
ciahs and surgeons', of this country ai
now touring the world; at the'.request c
foreign doctors who - are anxious to lear
accurately of. the/adyances of this branc
of the science in the New World.
-Out of many -significant''instances', thes
have been pickedj ?Tne numbfer might b
greatly added-to^with. - only-the advantag
of emphasizing the. point. That .which ha
the most pronounced is; however, the tun?
ing of the tide. Thirty years ago, and eve
well ohto very recent years; the America:
student ?of any kind of science found it ;
part , of his education to go to the school
abroad for as long a period as his pocket
book could stand.**' His* education was. no
thought completeytill1 then. c A\nd it wa
not, -for scientific-training inthis countr
was not formed. -Now the student has m
need to go. As he takes, his degree he 1
far beyond what the school's- Pf; Europ<
teach. And >-ear following year, in in
creasing numbers, _young Europeans ar<
coming over here" to grasp,; the traininj
that our 'universities are giving and t<
absorb the technique .and the thorough
practicalness that ; are- making America!
scientists masters Cf men.
"Adapted" wasythe word Prof Menden?
hall used in speaking of .European meth?
ods and the American universit?s, "rathei
than adopted." . But it has been very muci
more than that Brushing traditions aside
these institutions .of learning went long
ago to the root pf the matter. Tear 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 and for that.
Well, the chiefs would see that L was ob?
tained. Machinery was necessary. At
once the great manufacturers were laid
.under contribution,- and they sent as gifts
machines worth thousands.
The technical sctibol, - presidents knew
how to arouse - the sympathetic under?
standing of men Pf means and fore?
thought. 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
surgery, of chemistry, pf electricity, of
marine engineering, of agriculture and
forestry and went into workaday life.
Hitherto the scientific' college man had
not been held in very high regard. Manu?
facturers had wanted men who had grown
up In shops, "practical" they called them,
no "book learning fellows, 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 act?
ual 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 ic 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 institu?
tions was getting better every year.
Thc' technical schools and universities
had won their point. They realized the
growing demand for their men. They Ve"
doubled 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 m?n.
If a concrete, striking instance is wanted
of this, Sibley College or Cornell . Universi?
ty m;ay be taken. That institution has a
very famous railroad course. The "orders"
that come to the college each spring for
graduates are. greater than Sibley can
possibly supply. 'She cannot turn out
enough men to meet the demand- Twice,
as many as she graduates each year cb^ld
be assured of positions. For the railroads
I say simply: "These are the men we';w?st;
they are the men that will rise with .us
or with some other company. We can?
not now get too many of them."
And so the demand is spreading out in
j many another branch cf science." _The
American technical schools are' turning out
the product. It is these 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 England and the Continent are
commencing to come to this country for
technical training?
THE HERMIT OF CAFE MALEA.
Why lie Lived and Died on a Stupendous j
Cliff, Within Sight and Sound of the I
Ocean. ; I
There is one feature of Cape Malea that
rarely fails to attract the notice- of the j
most careless voyager doubling, it by
day, a touch of human tragedy and
pathos, belonging in point of chronology
to our own time, but in universal inter?
est to all ages. At the extreme pitch of
the cape a stupendous cliff rises. sheer,
from 'the fretting, waves for about a hun?
dred 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
i 2,000 feet. This plateau is apparently in
I-accessible, and yet, perched upon, a huge
I bowlder in its centre, a mass of rock de?
tached 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 Anglo
Saxon. It must .be firmly built, too, fdr
Lit is" exposed to the f?ll fury of wind,re
. bounding 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 se?
lected. Then if he be fortunate- he will
hear its story, says E. T. Bullen,-.in the
London. Spectator. WB??K??^^-'^'
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 .2$ the: summit '
of his ambition-becoming master of what
would then be called a igood-siied. steam?
ship, 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 rare complacency. his.
owners gave him the inestimable privilege'
of carrying his young bride to sea with:
him. Pow happy he was! How deep ands
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 stories
during the few bright days -,. between'"'
voyages that he. had been able to '? devote
to courtship! The ship was hound ito>
several Mediterranean ports, the time, be?
ing 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 ?tome from Naples had been'.possibl?;
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 command- 1
er 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 Constantinople and the Dan- :
ube. Life would'hardly be long enough
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
welling over with sunlight. Wind and
weather favored them; nothing occurred
to cast a shadow over their happiness
until, nearing 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
other way, and cut down amidships to.
the water's edge. To their peaceful sleep
or quiet appreciation of the night's sil?
vern-splendors succeeded the overwhelm?
ing . flood,' the hiss and roar of escaping
steam, the suffocating.embrace of death;
Tn 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 Ca^ - Malea at the
ebbing of the scanty tide, ? id his strong
physique, reasserting ?ts?"?f, enabled him
to climb those rugged battlements' and
reach the plateau. Here * 9 .^as found
gazing seaward by some go?-.:-eru-, who,
in search of their nimble-fc. rZ flocks?
had wandered down the precipita "s side
of the mountain. They endeavored to
persuade him to come with them back
to the world, but in vain. He would iive,
gratefully accepting some of their poor
provision, but from that watching place
he would not go. And those rude peas?
ants, 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 mor?
sels of food and drink as sufficed for his
stunted needs.
And there, with his gaze fixed during
all his waking hours upon that inscru?
table depth wherein all his bright hopes
had suddenly been quenched, he lived
untii quite recent years, ".the world for?
getting, by the'world forgot,"- a living
monument of constancy and patient, un?
complaining 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.
LINCOLN'S BIRTHPLACE
To be Utilized as nn Asylum for
Inebriates..
Down in the Blue Grass region of Ken?
tucky, on the same farm where Abraham
Lincoln was 'born and spent his boyhood'
days, says the ^Chicago Tribune, the St
Luke's Society, of Chicago, is to estab?
lish a home for the inebriates of -the South.
A large hotel, small cottages and com?
modious dwellings will be erected by the
soci?ty, 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
Hodgenville, fifty miles south of Louis?
ville, and consists of 110 acres of pasture
land. On lt is a spring of mineral water,
the fame of whSch 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 do?
nate its use to charity, and they chose
the St Luke's Society as the organization
best su3ted to carry out their plans.
The farm will be turned into a sanita?
rium, planned much after that now run
by the society at Nbs 1.710 to 1.71S Indiana
avenue. On it will 'be taken only those who
are addicted ro drugs, liquors or tobacco.
The ireatmenit is to be similar to that
given at the Chicago Hospital.
While the officers of the society are busv
trying to get the Lincoln farm in shape,
they are also at work establishing a branch
within the 'Cook County jail. There prison?
ers known to be victims of the drug, li?
quor or tobacco habit are given over to
Dr Miller and his assistant. Dr La Grange.
The latter devotes all his time to them
and lives in the same quarters with them. 1
'TSE'HEART OF MONTEOSE
BEQUEATHED BY THE MAB QUJS
HTS NIECE, LADT NAP J EB,
Gruesome Belie of a Valiant Scott
Hero and how it wa* Mysteriously Lo
Little Hope of the Ultimate "Recover
the Relic, bat After the Laps? of (
Hundred Tear? the Heart or the Grab
Slay Once Again Rent on Scottish Sot
-^(From Chambers's Journal.)
. Alas "?that no one knows where
somewhere, certainly-the heart of vali
James Graham, Marquis of Montr<
awaits the collector of curiosities! Tos
among bits of armor, old china, bric
brae, in some old curiosity shop in
north of France; possibly now carried
Paris or London, it may lie in some
lady's lamber attic; or, trampled years :
into the aground of a back garden in B
logue, Pierre and little Marie ^may tun
up any day with their spades. "Qu'es*
que- c'est donc," this little old, beal
egg-shaped box of steel? Why, Pierre :
Marie, it holds, if you only knew, it,
dust of a Scottish hero's heart, and ,
case itself was fashioned out of his g<
steel sword.
Montrose knew MerehistonCastle, Ec
burgh,-well; it was, in fact, a second he
to. him in his boyhood, for his sister M
garet-had married Sir Archibald Naj
when .Montrose was 6 c > 7 years-old, ?
he spent much of his ti?ie with-them; "3
Napiers had, besides, ? town mains
within the precincts of Ho?yrood -H??
but to little Montrose, brought up.i?v
country, the old castle, with its barns s
out houses and granges, was. no doub
more attractive holiday home than, a.'d
town house in the fashionable Cannbnga
One can. fancy the little figure, in
clothes of "green camlet" or "mixed p
gone" and "cloak with pasmcnts," w<
dering- with his bow and arrows about.1
'parks, or, maybe, escaped.from his wat<
fui''pe?agog," Master William F?rr?
imperiling-himself, boy like, on the batt
meats of the castle. H09
I -But to get to the story of the'heart c
must*.leave- the- life and hasten to 1
^eath of Montrose. Hos sister and bro
er-to-law "had ' died long . before, 'and -.t
owner .of Merehiston in 1650 was/Mp:
rosers-nephew, the second Lord Napier,
great affection existed between Montre
and his niece by marriage, .Lady Nap*
and as a mark of it he bequeathed to i
his heart-a strange, and, if one .must t
Jthe. truth, an embarrassing, legacy; I
looked "upon by the lady herself as a <
preme honor and a sacred trust
^?M?t?tr?se . was executed at the Marl
Cross of Edinburgh on Tuesday, May.
1650i .The. extraordinaiy; composure .4
gallantry of his bearing are well atteste
An unsigned letter-in the British; Museu
written by. a spectator while the executi
was. actually going <>n, sayst "I never si
a more sweeter carriage to a man In ;
my-life. He is just now turning off fr<
the ladder; but his countenance;; chang
not." Another account says: '"He ste
along . the streets with so great state,,
much beauty, majesty and gravity
j amazed the beholders. And many/of I
enemies did acknowledge - him to be t
"bravest.subject in the world, and'to him
gallantry that graced all the crowe"
Clothed in "fine scarlet richly shammad
wjith'. golden lace, and: - linen with - fi
pearling about, his .delicate .white; glov
in, his/- .hand, his stockings \of ^. incarna
silk, his shoes with their "ribbons on 1
feet,'' his ' dress \ was -"more becoming
bridegroom than a criminal.".
After hanging on the gibbet for-thr
,hours.; th? body was taken down . and ti
head ; was affixed to the Tolbooth; ; ti
limbs ; were dispersed " to various . plac
throughout the Kingdom, and the dismer
bered trunk was enclosed to a'"little sho
chest" and. huried on the Boroughmui
The Boroughmuir was the usual place '<
execution and .burial for the worst ??c?n?
nais; ?t was a place of "evil reputation, Ii
tie sought during the'day and much to 1
shunned by night.
No wonder, then, .that some "advento
rous spirits" were required who' ' wou
steal to that, grewsom? "spo? raise tl
hastily and none too deeply buri?d -bod;
and cut from it the heart of Montros
Th? master of Merehiston was in exile 1
Holland; it was Lady. Napier- alone wi
planned the night excursion and saw
carried out. Did her heart "fair her thi
. May night; waiting at the foot bf the tui
ret stair until her messengers, returning
put in* her.hands something not seen, bi
felt, , with the square of fine linen a
"tricked with bloody g?les?". That sam
square of linen ?nd the pair of stocking
of "incarnate" silk showing .? still darke
stain have remained ever since among: th
treasured possessions, of the Napair fam
-'ny. :r ^HBSBHHBHHHi
For a time, then, the heart was safe a
t Merehiston. It was embalmed and 'in
? closetf in a little steel case." made of th
! blade of Montrose's sword; the case wa
placed' in a fine gold filigree box, whia
had belonged to John Napier, the inven
tor' bf logarithms; and. the box in its tun
i:was. deposited to a silver urn.
Before very long,, however, Lady Naple
dispatched the casket by some faithfu
. hand to the young Marquis of Montrose
? who, .with Lord. Napier and. others of th?
connection, was still living in exile in Hoi
land, and here begins the first part of it:
adventures, of which, unfortunately, n<
record now* remains. ^^^yttnBHB|
For many years the heart was complete,
ly lost sight of, and any hope of ever re?
gaining it had long been given up, when ?
friend of the Napier family recognized th?
gold filigree box' enclosing; the steel cast
among a collection of curiosities to Hol?
land: He purchased the relic at once 'and
returned it to Merehiston, ? at that timi
the property of Francis, the fifth Lord
Napier. There for a second time the heart
reposed, but not for long. On the dea ti
of the fifth Lord Napier it passed toto the
keeping of his only surviving daughter,
Hester, afterward Mrs Johnston.
Some years after her marriage Mrs John?
ston 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. \ln the middle of the fight a splin?
ter struck Mrs Johnston on the arm,
wounding her severely. The velvet reti?
cule gave little protection-to its precious
contents, and the gold filigree box was
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
and came on board the Indianman to offer
his thanks and congratulations to the lady
and her husband, who had set the crew
so gallant an example.
Arrived in India, it was easy to find a
clever goldsmith, who constructed another
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 Mon?
trose'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 bat?
tle. So one is. not surprised to learn that
before long the urn and its contents were
stolen, and in spite of every 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 Ma?
dura. ;
' . It was part cf-tie: te
;?>oy who 'h^^''st?oid:4i??'i??:'his p^em^^d?r^j^
4n^r the attack," on the Indiaman to-s&a^^^
Xour: months':pf. every year with a, native^
-chief,, in order to learn something ci^t??00
language and' native methods^ pf h?htl?^^
and-shooting. While on a sportmgy?j^p^^^
ditton the boy distinguished himsett-^iij^^
wadding off the attack pf a :. wild rhol^^^
whereupon, the-cbief,'to show his:-^app??c??^^?
tion of -the p?rfoimance-prom?seaj^int-^^^
Oriental fashion, to give the Ia?-practl?al'^^
ly anything he-chose to ask- As this chief ^
was the purchaser pf the
stor.. naruraliy begged that ' the taxnUYr^:
property might. be, handed - bae^^to^l^Si^^
The chief made a -generous speech. Sia^?^^
ply, expteining that when "jue/ boug?t^a?i^
.urn and'its contents'- he -had^no/ide?^tfint^
they were stolen goods, and w^ag:)flMS!^^
"one brave man should always ^ttend^^^
the wishes', of another; brave "Tnan^*jwh?B^^S
ever his religion or't?s race ..' might^?t?^^S
therefore ite considered it his. d?ry"rto::3B3???g^
ni the wishes of the irave1 maite^ij^e^
heart was. in -the.urh>. .?hd;wh<i^,^wis^.^*o^^
been, that his heart should be^^k^tibj^tf^^
descendants." Accordingly f the' lJc5?':"?re^|
turned home laden-TOtn.gtf^
for himself and his mother; a^ca^j^^^
with him the urn_ and si 'Iette^?f/^?1?KS^p
from its Iate;<mstodian.'-Th^^
liberal-minded c^?f .fora
sequel to thls'?dvent?r? of the hear^B^^^p
ing rebelled against the Nabob.of Arcot^^
he was t?kenV by
?and many of his 'famllr;^^
When the chief was told he would het-pia^"^
to death h? refeired to the
rose; and said t^
alfke^in the'manher -of;thefc dyhig?'^^S^g
; hoped that: after
would preserv? his. heart,; asNtfie ihe^^S^S
Montrose had been pres?rved, for fu?n?^
generations to honor. * . - ' ' '^^^^^m
. The Johnsto?^fanifl^
in 1791 Being In France at the.time .wbeB^
the Revolutionary <?overnment. <^mpe??dSp2
all persons to give up their-gold andaify^^?
plate and ie weis, Mrs Joh astQp:"\estiw^8S^^
the silver urn, With its enclosures; ~t?V*J^^
Englishwoman living at BdaIogne,.--TW?^^
promised to keep lt 'hidden until dt.'c^^^^
be saiely conveyed back to ?ngi?iid^^^^
the woman^m*ed:soon:-?fterward and tt?j?fM
that"' time nothi^
of 'the heart of ;Montera^
There would:appear'-^j^b^it?Si^m^S^^?
the ultimate recovery oi "^{..J?^:^^SB
stranger things have, happened,-a?d^^^TO^B
be that even .artery the
years the heart o? the Graham
again rest <>n^Ptj^?^.U?^:?-;*^^^^^^B
TUBERCULOUS Ct*WS pASG.^^^^
Pref Koch's Dictum Coi
Vi" (From the Bait
Prof Koch's' dfct^
losis'of:''Cb^''Js^o^tTani
sm
or child is^eontroverte?^lnSpBBOia
.elsewhere* ?wfth' ;vir^a^;j?MC^m1?
'^Virchow opposes t^e^ylCT^a^^SS
bacteriologist : andr^^^otcej^^
Johne, professor of pathological'ai
at Veterinary,<&UegaDfyi)re?aCT^
essay,;;^^
."lt.. is . pte?a^y:^!^a^^0x^
cows that pi?ys/th^Vch^ei^^iarl^^ci
tuberculosis,/ an?ong i;<^dw|^^^?
his point The rl?c^?rm^tibi^lhi^
a veterinary - ?urgeou:wh?k^ m?ur
thumb while dissecting .a^d^seased;
Six months later rnhercu?oe^man:
ward tubereulousbaei^
spctazm'Thesurgeon
and .*'at^fiie:.p^^-mortem;^^a?@
the Bpctor^addsi /Va.^coh^d??6S^
of shnilar .bacilli were T?undv^?^?^
of-the decea^edrs thumb.* r Th^coitc
is -"that the bacillus of .bovhieruben
Is a tubercin^s^bacu^
?power;; wMchr?s'perhaps less^i?tnj^
. ai ge)rm ?t-h^ection for n^^i?^im
human belngsf of good he?tJ^GO^@
. powers ktl^irjeslstano,>b?t^^^f?^^l
more destructive to ^eSl^?j^j^g^
grownup-persons who^hav?:5i??al^c
tutions; or who. are iH-fed..,ahd;rjthei
not;:' so .capable, of resisting/; ?hil
. germs." ' ; oW^^m
TEE M TS TER? O E SJJZET-WA
Selen tl? t? ar? Still fueled Over th?
~. ? .,-.,?.. ?>&?.? tttois&aa
Fhane? ot It-A Charfetf?*; '
Experience!..;' 'r-' ? ?
v?^om'thejCHncinna^ "
"^ieep-walking ,ds 'sometht^g^
der^opd now ; than: fprme^^t. " ,
ch??oglsts are. apt; thoron*^ *
regardr co.;many roi the phasc^*
a New- York ^
cent cas^^that ?? ? yo?u^?mM?f?
walking., ten miles to v?it rhls^?a
of an even -mor?, recent;' _
young lady^ w?lklhg..tbree^mi???^<
night in her night 'gow?^ :^wi?i?t
?mngv upsets many of rth^ppevid
cepted theories. , It had been thc'
exposure. to intense,.coId as
tense heat would, awaken -th?fjsl??j^
er, but in these cases, "whfch^are-w*
thenticated, it appears, that -thfe .V>i
{.while correcCpossiWy,;ih.:''"
always so..
"In my early ^ys,- when?aPtt?
.tures ?t a medical college .t?Bai?
-with, some other m?di<^--s;t?dfi~
nessed one~ of ^the* fambus^???ei
cases that is quoted la-ma^/qfl'
ard books. One night we^w?r?S _
along Lexington street, 'Where."th??
ington street market is located, ;.::jC
our party called^attention to flu "
figure,1 dad in;white, on-th?'rc
market building. "It pr?vea%ta-;be@
a giri about ; IT.-r years,:.of:&8&Z:?>g5$&
She. had lost a canary ;bkdf4th?e?9 "
noon- hefore, which was lastr?
eaves of the roof -, of- the ^ma?
Darkness came on, h?wever^hiifo'
thoroxigji search for -'thfe,vhtwE?(
made, and it was ..givens "up;.
went to bed. and during the>ni^^
bed and returned to the mdrket^M$^^^n<|
t and climbed "to its roof. ; ". Z
f. '..This In itself was not ? daByat?*-'
for there was ? series pf?;she?s?i
to it. She walked the entire- '
one side of the market, along*',
treme edge- of "the roof. At'^everj!^
It seemed she would step ^ver
and. had she done so she wouldst
have been killed. - -'%?--;
"Our party divided up, and on?
the leading physician of Chariest?! "
climbed to the roof and seizetf? "
She awoke the - Instant , he tx>.uchea^J
and it was with the greatest;
that he could keep her from faBIngfe.
while in her sleep she appeared toy'
expert, sne was a very poor climbeg?
awake. It w?s a clear case of."
walking, -and had she gone- ten
farther she would have foaa?r^ie:
which had. roosted for the .high
rain* gutter which ran alcmgw
and where it was found a ^few:
afterward.- Sleep-waTking is
frequent than- is generally
though, as a rule, -it is -confined->X^
dren. I have known of several "ca_.
adults who would take walks^n^
sleep as often as once a week.^'~??
SAVED. BY THE MASONIC S3
(From the American Tyle?^^^^
During the memorable raid that: "
army made on Petersburg, Va, on Vi
2. 1S65, when.I^ee's lines were br
young Confederate, officer lay on the2i
severely wounded, and when, wit
moment's warning, a company- of;3?5?
cavalry rode down towards him ?t ?ij
galop, he saw death staring him .?
face. His first thought was that
there might be a Mason among th?m?J
he gave, che signal of distress known x
to Masons. Then the Federal captain'
quickly to his side, dismounted and ^3;
ed 'the company in the centre, without s
lesting the man in the least He.-'
quickly picked up, though a prisoner^
taken to the rear and tenderly cared:
and in the course of time entirelv re
ered his health. Brother H W.
of Rockwell, Tex, a prominent phj
is anxious to learn the name and
dence of the officer who saved" his; lift
answer to a Masonic sign, and askst
this item be published in all Mas?x
nalgi

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