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The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, September 07, 1871, Image 1

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, i .'Mr,.'-: "rill - ' '" I -
HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor Aim PubusiIek'. " " "
. jyxA't eomNT,T-Tnn bbPubUcan pajrtt.
Two Dollars t kr; Akhum.
it
VOL. I.
RIDGWAYPA., TllURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1871.
NO. 27.
I.... ,. .'.(.,, I
TUB HEREAFTER.
BT t. t. PALORAVB. '
Sigh not, fair mother, ns thou scest
The llttlo nursery at thy feet j
Throe golden heads together bent
I Like statesmen o'er somo scheme profound
Convened til their more gracious Parliament.
Sigh not, If o'er thy ftiltliful heart
Keen shadows of the future go;
The tortures dormant in the inline ;
The woes of want nnd wrong; the sterner
woo
Of souls that start, and own a hidden shame.
Fenced from the frosty piles of ill
Man slips through life unmade, uubrnccd ;
As honey from the flint-rock shed ;
Wrong bruvely borne, tho brunt of pain well
faced,
Ruin in soft blessings on the gallant head.
Endure 1 Endure 1 Life's lesson's so
is written largo in sea and earth :
And be who gives us wider scope
Thau tho dumb things that struggle from tholr
birth,
Sets in a sky a star of higher hope.
And with more joy than one who treads
Tho road with never-swerving strength,
His future-plerclng eyes survey
Thoso who, wide-roving, to the-fold at length
Trace with thorn-reddened feet their liual
way.
Then sigh not, If the smiling band
Their uu forethoughtful brightness keep,
And gamer sunbeams for the day
When those dear stainless eyes may yearn to
weep
The natural drops that cannot force their way.
Ito who has made us, and foresees
Our tears, to thy too-anxious gaze
Tho lone Hereafter centlv snares :
Ouly His Lovo shines forth, through nil their
aays
Pledged to tho children of so many prayers.
THE OXE-ETED CONDUCTOR.
A very strange incident happened to
me onoe, a good many years ago so
Ht range, that 1 have many times thought
I should like to write it down, to see if
anybody could give me a satisfactory ex
planation of it. My husband, however,
until lately, has been averse to my do
ing so ; but lost Christmas Eve, when
there were a number of us met together
at Grandfather Lorrimer's, singing songs,
telling stories, and so on, I told my story,
and it created such a sensation so many
questions were asked, so many theories
broached, and everybody, in fact, seemed
to be so much interested that Joseph,
that is, my husband, came to the con
clusion that it was a better story than he
had before thought it ; and a day or
two afterward he said to me, if I still
had a mind to print that little adventure
ef mine, he would not object to my do
ing so. .
On account of the reason I gave above,
I am glad to do so. I hope this little
article may attract the notice of some
one who can give me' a rational solution
of an event that has perplexed me for
years. Such an explanation would be a
great relief to my mind, and I shall be
glad to hear from any responsible per
son on the subject. My address is :
" Mrs. Joseph Lorrimer, Harrisburg,
Pennsylvania."
My acquaintance with tho hero of
this story arose during my bridal tour.
My parents were, and still are, Phila
delphians, but Joseph's people live in
Harrisburg, and he - himxelf is overseer
in the Crosby Iron Works, just outside
of that city.
Our wedding was a very quiet one.
There was no money to spare on either
side, and, after a family breakfest, we
went directly to the cars, and started
for our future home.
I was a young thing then just
eighteen and my dear Joe was only
three years my senior ; two shy, happy,
foolish children we were, it seems to me
now, as I look back upon that day so
many years agone !
The very, trip from Philadelphia to
Harrisburg commonplace as most peo
ple would think it, was a wonderful
event to me, who had never taken longer
than an hour's ride on the cars before in
my life.
I viewed, with eager, interested eyes,
the country through which we passed,
and all that was going on around me ;
the passengers, the car itself, with its
fixtures, the conductor and the brakes
man, were all objects whose novelty
gave me plenty of food for thought ;
and my thoughts, in those days, were
very apt to evince themselves in eager,
unreserved chatter.
We thought we were conducting our
selves with all imaginable ease and dig
nity ; yet I do suppose now, there was
not an individual who looked at us that
did not guess at a glance our recently
assumed relationship.
I am sure the conductor did. He was
a tine, portly-looking man, with genial,
brown-whiskered face and busby hair;
he would have been a really handsome
man, had it not been for the loss of an
eye; it had been lost by disease the
exterior of the eye, save that it was
sunken and expressionless, retaining its
original appearance. The remaining
eye was bright and blue, as jolly ana
sparkling as the rest of his pleasant,
good-humored face.
As be came to collect our fare, Joseph
handed him a bill.
"For yourself and wife, 1 suppose
sir?" he asked, with a smile.
Joe turned very red, and bowed a dig
nified assent
As for me I confess it I turned my
head toward the window, and tittered.
Very ridioulous, was it not?
The oar had not been nearly full when
we started, but people dropped in at
the various way-stations, so that by the
time we reached .Lancaster nearly every
seat was taken. We, at ' starting, had
taken two seats, turning one to face us,
upon which our various liand-baggago
was placed.
At Lancaster the cars stopped some
time fur, dinner; and just as they were
about to start again, our conductor en
tered the car, ushering in an old lady in
' Quaker garb, beneath whose deep bou
net was visible a kind, plump, rosy face,
with bright. spectacled eves.
She glanced around on either side, as
she advanced up the aisle, in search or a
seat, and, in obedience to a nudge jrom
me, Joseph rose, and beckoning to the
conductor, said :
" There is a seat for the lady here."
Smilingly the old lady approached. I
commenced gathering up tho shawls
and packages that lay upon the vaoant
seat, that it might bo turned 'to its
proper position, but the old lady checked
me. I
" Don't trouble thyself, friend ; I oan
sit just as well with the seat as it is;"
and without further ceremony she en
sconced herself opposite me, while the
one-eyed conductor deposited a large
covered bandbox at her feet, and paid
her bo many little attentions, at the
same time addressing her in so familiar
and affectionate a manner, that I saw at
once she was no stranger to him.
A glance at the kind old face opposite
soon told mo they were mother and son,
for the two faces were wonderfully alike,
especially in the open, cheerful expres
sion. My heart was drawn toward her at
once, and, as the conductor moved on, I
could not resist making some overtures
toward acquaintance by asking if she
was quite comfortable.
" Quite so, thank thee," she answered
at once ; " but I am afraid I have dis
commoded thee somewhat." j
" Not at all," I assured her ; ani the
ice once broken, we chatted together
very freely and pleasantly.
As I had surmised, the conductor was
her son, and very proud and fond of him
the old lady was. She told us so -many
tales about his wonderful goodness, his
kind-heartedness and unselfishness, that
when after we had left the next sta
tion the conductor approached us, we
really ielt as if we were already acquaint
ed with him, and were disposed to be as
friendly with him as with his mother.
He stopped to exchange a few words
with her, and as she was talking with
us, we very naturally all fell into con
versation together.
He proved to bo an intelligent man,
who hod seen a great deal of life, par
ticularly on railroads, so his conversa
tion, to me, at least, was vastly enter
taining. '
Among other interesting things, ho
explained to us the signs and signals
used by railway officials upon the road.
One of these signals the only one I
need mention here he Baid was as fol
lows :
When a person standing in tho road,
in front of or by the side of the car,
throws both hands rapidly forward, as if
motioning for the cars to go backward,
he means to give information that there
is " danger aiead."
" When you see that signal given
ma'am," said our conductor, " if the cars
don't obey it by backing, do you prepare
yourself for a flying leap ; for the chances
are, you will have to practice it before
long." i
lie spoke lightly, but, notioing that
the ideas suggested were not very pleas- I
ones to me, he changed the subject, and
I soon forgot the little feeling of discom
fort his words had occasioned.
The old lady did not travel with us
far. She stopped at a way-station some
twenty-five miles west of Lancaster,
where, she informed us, she had a daugh
ter living. Her own home she had al
ready told us was in Lancaster, where
she lived with a married daughter who
kept a boarding-house. She gave us
one of this daughter's cards, and Joseph
promised, if we ever had occasion to
visit Lancaster, that we would try to
find her out.
With mutual kind wishes and cheer
ful adieux we parted. The old lady was
helped out of the train by her son, and
we saw her a moment later upon the
arm of another gentleman, whom we
supposed to be her son-in-law, walking
briskly up a little hill that led from the
station to the heart of the village.
Our own journey came to a conclusion
in due time, and the last I saw of the
one-eyed conductor was when he stood
on the platform of the cars, helping us
out with our baggage, which he had
carried for us from where we had been
sitting.
It is not my purpose to detain the
reader with any details of my private
history further than is necessary to give
a just comprehension of what is to fol
low. Two years had elapsed before I
was called upon to take the second jour
ney, to tho events of which, what I have
already narrated, forms a necessary pre
lude. This time I was journeying alone
from Harrisburg to Philadelphia, upon
a visit to my parents, whom I had not
seen since my marriage.
I had been having a good deal of
trouble. I was very ill for some time
after my baby's birth, and before I had
fully regained my strength, my little
son was taken ill. He had the whoop
ing cough ; and after I had nursed him
through it the whole summer, he took a
cold in the fall that brought it back
upon him, and finally killed him. I
was so woak and miserable myself, that
I could not struggle with my grief as I
should have done ; I pined, and moped,
and wasted away until the doctor said
that if I did not have a change of scene,
or something that would arouse me and
cheer me up, he would not am wer for
my life.
It was the most unpalatable advice
to me that he could have given. I did
not want to be cheered nor amused ; I
did not want to leave homeland the dear
reminders of my lost baby ; above all, I
did not want to leave my husband, for,
in my foolish despondency, I felt a su
perstitious dread that he, too," would be
taken from me. It was impossible, just
now, for him to leave his business to go
home with me ; they were exeouting a
heavy order at the foundry, which kept
all hands working almost night and
day.
lie promised that be would join me as
soon as he could ; but, after what the
doctor had said, he would not bear of
my departure being delayed a minute
longer than could be avoided ; so he
wrote to father that I would be in Phil
adelphia on a certain day, in order that
he might meet me at the depot; and,
having put me in the cars at Harris
burg, an1 seeing me safely started - ou
my journey, he knew there. was very lit
tle doubt but that I should reach Phila
delphia after a comfortable, uninterrupt
ed naif-day's ride.
Ah I how different was this trip from
the one I had taken two years before l
How different was I the wan-faced,hol-low-eyed
invalid, in my mourning robes
--from the shy, blooming girl, in her
bridal array, who found so niuoh to
amuse and interest her in that brief
journey I
Nothing interested mo now nothing
amused me all Was wearisome and mo
notonous. I leaned from the car-window
as long as I could, to catch the lost
glimpse of poor Joe, who,
" With a smile on his Up, hut tear In his ere,"
stood npon the platform, waving his hat
to me as we moved away.
After that, I sank back in my soat.too
sad and despondent even to cry, and lay
there as we sped along, thinking of noth
ing, oaring for nothing bat the. memo
ries from whioh they were .trying to
force me to escape.
1 did rouse up a little as the conductor
approached to collect my fare the re
membrance of the one-eyed man and his
nice little mother recurred to me the
first time for many months. This con
ductor, however, was not my old ac
quaintance, being a sallow, dark-eyed,
cross-looking man, as different as possi
ble from the other one. I felt a little
disappointed at first, but after he left
me 1 leaned my head back again, and
thought no more about the matter.
After a while I fell into a doze, which
lasted until the call of "Lancaster
twenty minutes for dinner 1" ringing
through the cars, aroused me, and in
formed me that we were just entering
that city.
I sat up then, sleepily and languidly.
It was a warm day in early- October,
and the windows of the car cwere lower
ed ; I leaned my elbow upon the sash,
and looked out upon the scene before
me. As I was thus gazing, drowsy and
indifferent, neither caring nor thinking
much about what I saw, I noticed a man
upon the roadside, a little in front of
the car in which I sat, gesticulating vio
lently with his hands and arms.
The next minute I was sitting bolt
upright in my seat, my heart leaping
almost into my mouth with sudden
fright, for, in the gestures that wero be
ing made, 1 recognized the signal which,
two years before, the one-eyed conduc
tor had told me meant " clanger ahead."
The cars were not moving very rapid
ly, and during the moment that we were
passing by the man who had given the
signal, I had a full view of him his face
being turned toward the cars, and bis
eyes meeting mine so directly that I
could have spoken to him had I chosen.
I recognized him at once it was the
one-eyed conductor, and, seeing that, I
was worse scared than" ever,- being now
quite confirmed in my belief that an ac
cident was impending ; for I knew that
he must occupy some responsible posi
tion upon the road, and could, therefore,
nave made no mistake in the matter.
No one else, however, either inside or
outside of the car, seemed to partake of
my alarm. The cars were slackening
their speed, but that was because we
were approaching a station, and from
no other cause that I could ascertain. I
had not intended getting out of the cars
until I reached the end of my journey,
but I had been so Btartled by what I had
seen, that I could not sit quiet in my
seat.
I got out with the rest of the passen
gers, but did not follow them to the ho
tel ; I stood upon the platform, gazing
up und down the track uneasily, but
could see nothing at all that could awak
en apprehension.
The onf -eyed conductor was nowhere
to be seen, though I watched the road,
in the direction where we had passed
him, for some time, expecting every mo
men to see him come into sight.
. A porter, trundling a wheelbarrow,
passed me, and of him I ventured timid
ly to enquire :
" Is there anything the matter with
the engine or with the track '"
" Not as I knows on," he answered
gruilly, and passed on.
- I was still terribly uneasy ; I was cer
tain that I had not been mistaken in the
man or the signal ; the latter, especially
I remembered a forward motion with
both hands, as if directing the cars to
back. I could recall distinctly the face
and gestures of the conductor when he
had explained it to me, as also his words,
" If ever you see that signal given, pre
pare for a flying leap, for the probabili
ties are you 11 soon have to take it ;" and
the longer I dwelt upon what I had wit
nessed, the more convinced did I become
that the signal had not been given
causelessly.
I went into a waiting room to sit
down until I could determine what it
would be best for me to do. I felt a
most invincible repugnance to returning
to the cars and continuing my journey;
the excitement and worry had made me
sick and faint, and- I felt that I ran a
great risk of becoming ill before I reach
ed my journey's end, even if there was
no other danger to be dreaded. What
if I should stay over at Lancaster until
the next day, and telegraph to father to
oome to me there r And at the same in
btant I remembered that there was in
my traveling-satchel, in the little outer
pocket, where it had rested undisturbed
for two years, the card which the old
Quaker lady had given me, bearing the
name and address of her daughter, who
kept a boarding-house. 'I hat remem
brance decided me ; if I could find lodg
iug at that place, I would remain over
night in Lancaster. - -
, There, were plenty of conveyances
around the depot, and summoning a dri
ver to me, I showed him the card, and
asked him if he knew the address.
" Certainly, mum," he said, promptly :
" take you there in ten minutes ; Mrs.
Elwood's boarding-house; quiet place,
but excellent accommodations, mum.
' Thus assured. I entered his carriage.
and he fulfilled his promise by setting
me down, after a short drive, in front of
an unassuming, two-story frame house,
whose quiet, orderly appearance made it
look very unlike a boarding-house. A
boarding-house it proved to be. however,
and in the landlady, Mrs. Elwood who
cam to me after 1 had waited a while in
the darkened parlor I traced at once so
strong a resemblance to my. old Quaker
friend, as convinced me I had found the
place I sought.
As she was leading me upstairs to iny
room, I ventured bo state that I had met
her mother two years before, and had
formed a travelling acquaintance with
her.
Mrs. Elwood's pleasant smile upon
hearing this encouraged me to ask if her
mother was living with her, adding that
I should be pleasod to renew the ac
quaintance if she was.
The reply was in the aihrmative,
" You will meet her at dinner, which
is served at two, and she will be glad
enough to have a chat with you, I'll ven
ture to say."
1 wrote out my telegram io lamer.ana
Mrs. Elwood promised to have it at
tended to at onoe for me ; then, after
doing everything for me that kindness
could suggest, Bhe laft me to the rest I
was beginning very much to feel the
need of.
A tidy-looking little maid came to me
when the dinner-bell rang, to show me
the way to the dining-room ; and there
the first person I saw was my little old
lady, already seated near the upper end
of the long table.
Bhe bowed and smiled when she saw
me, but we were too far apart to
engage in any conversation. After
the meal was over she joined mc, shook
hands very cordially, and invjted me to
come and sit with her in her own room.
I was glad to accept the invitation,
for in my loneliness the kind face of this
chance acquaintance seemed almost like
that of a friend ; and soon in one of the
easiest of low-cushioned chairs, in one of
the cosiest of old-lady apartments I
was seated, talking more cheet fully and
unreservedly than I had talked since
my baby's death.
X expressed some surprise that she had
recognized me so promptly, to which she
replied : .
"I had always a good memory for
faces, though names I am apt to forgot ;
when my daughter spoke to me about
thee, I could not at all recall thee to
mind yet as soon as thee entered the
dining-room, I remembered thee."
" And yet 1 do not look much like I
did two years ago," I said, sadly.
" That is true, my dear ; thee has
altered very much. I almost wonder
now that I should have recognized thee
so promptly.' Thee has seen trouble, I
fear," she added, gently touching my
blaok dress. .
" Yes," I said, " I have hud both sick
ness and death to battle with ; I neither
look nor feel much like the thoughtless,
happy bride whom you met two years
ago."
" Is it thy husband who bos been taken
from thee f"
" Oh. nol no I no 1" I cried, the ready
tears rising to my eyos ; " I don't think
I could have lived if I had lost him. It
vas my baby died that was hard
Snongn ; the dearest little blue-eyed
arling you ever saw just ten months
old."
My old friend's face betrayed her sym
pathy, as sho sat silently waiting for me
to regain my composure. Alter a little
while she said, sighing :
" It is hard to lose a child, whether
young or old. I can fully sympathize
with thee in thy trouble, for I too havo
lost a son since I last saw thee, though I
wear no outer garb as a badge ot my
bereavement."
I looked at her, a little surprise ming
ling with the sympathy I tried to ex
press.
" 1 thought 1 remembered your telling
me you had but one son '("
" That was all," she said sorrowfully.
" God never gave me but the one, and
him He has taken away."
1 stared at her now in undisguised
astonishment.
" Was not that gentleman surely.
madame, I was not mistaken in think
ing the conductor the gentleman who
brought you into the cars when we met
two years ago was your son t
"You are right; he was the son of
whom 1 nave spoken.
"The one-eyed man!" I gasped, for
getting delicacy in astonishment.
The old lady flushed a little. '
" Yes, friend, I understand whom thee
means ; my poor Robert had lost the
sight of his left eye."
" I saw that man this morning I" I
cried. " I saw him from the oar win
dow, before we entered Lancaster !
What strange misunderstanding is this V"
" Thee has mistaken some one else for
him, that is all," said my companion.
gravely. " My boy thee could not have
seen, for he died fifteen months ago the
loth of this month. He died of cholera,
after only two days' illness. Thee could
not have seen Kobert.
"I did. though I did 1" I cried ex-
citedly ; and then I related to her the
whole incident, dwelling particularly
upon tno signal l had seen mm make
a signal I had never seen but once be
fore in my life, and then made by him
when he explained it to me. " I was
not mistaken," I concluded ; " I could
not be; your son was not an ordinary
looking man, and I remember his ap-
l " . 1 1 n , v , ,
pearauce uiauncuy. oureiy as 1 set Here,
I saw this morning the man who you
tell me died fifteen months ago."
The old lady looked white and fright
ened, while, as for me, I was growing so
hysterical with bewilderment and ex
citement, that she would allow me to
pursue the subject no further.
She led me to my room, and per
suaded me to lie down leaving me
then, for she was herself too much agi
tated by the conversation we had had to
be able to soothe or quiet me.
I saw her no more that day. I did
not go down to tea, for the restless
night I passed, in conjunction with the
excitement of the day, rendered me so
seriously unwell, that I was not able to
rise until a late hour the ' following
morning.
I was still dressing when there came a
rap at my door, accompanied by the
voice of my Quaker friend asking ad
mittance. I opened the door, and she entered.
with white, awe-struck face, and hands
which trembled so, she could hardly
grasp tne newspaper to wnicu she di
rected my attention.
" Friend," she said, " thy life has been
saved by divine interposition. The
train in which thee, was yesterday a pas
senger, in less than two hours after thee
left it, was thrown over an embankment
at a place called 1 The Oap,' and half of
the passengers have been killed or
wounded. Child 1 child 1 surely as thee
lives, that vision of my poor Robert was
sent to save thee 1"
That is all I havo to tell. I know
nothing more about the affair than I
have written, and I have no comments
to make npon it. I saw that one-eyed
conductor make the signal of " danger
ahead ; 1 was so much influenced by
what I saw, that I would not continue
my journey. In less than two hours
after that warning had been given, the
danger was met, and death in its most
appalling form was the fate of more
than ntty ot the human beings that danger-signal
was meant to warn.
These are the tacts, it is equally
a fact that the man whom I saw give
that signal had then been dead more
than a year.
Explain the matter who can 1 nave
no explanation to offer.
Butter and Cheese Statistics.
Butter and cheese making has been a
diffused industry in many countries,
from the earliest time ; but it remained
for American inventiveness to give con
centration to the work and show the
nations how best to do it. In 1853 we
exported to England a million of pounds
of cheese ; in 1870 we sent her fifty mil
lions I In the same year we imported
nearly a million and a halt of pounds to
supply our own requirements; but in
18 iU, bo ample and excellent had our
supplies become that we did not require
to import a pound.
It is comparatively but a few years
since farmers in New York State, seeing
the waBto of labor necessarily consequent
on each small farmer being his own
manufacturer of cheese and butter, com
menced to form labor-saving co-operative
factories, where one set of workers
would do the work of many, and where.
by affording superior facilities and giv
ing special attention, the quality of the
product might be improved. The move
ment was completely successful, and at
this day, the number ot these co-opera-
tive factories in tho State is more than
nine hundred, with a supply of milk from
a quarter of a million ot cows ; every
three thousand cows affording a million
of pounds of cheese, valued at $110,000,
or more than three hundred pounds of
cheese and three hundred gallons of
milk tor each cow. Uf this large num-
Der ox lactones,
Factories. Cows.
Onolna county bas w 8t,ouo
Jefferson couuty has 7'2 25,uoo
Herkimer comity has 70 25,000
Miultaou county lias 611 20,000
Oxwego couuty haa M li.ouo
Ki lo couuty lias rl ' 20,1100
OtaeKO county has 4(1 15,000
Oriiiiiie county bun 4-1 14.000
Other counties 440 110,000
Total 41 4m,ou
As to the other Estates:
Factories. Coven each.
Ohio has M) ooo
Illinois haa 50 400
Wisconsin has 84 'rO
Vermont has 82 400
MaHHacliu&eits has.. 2ti 250
Michigan haa 22 410
Femikylvutiia haa 14 200
oilier Htatea 25
Canada 84
Total 817
So that on this continent we have now,
after a comparatively few years of work,
nearly 1,300 cheese and butter factories.
supplied with the milk of more than
3(10,1)00 cows, and producing about 100,
000,000 pounds of cheese annually. Our
export ot the product ot this new in
dustry, or old industry in a new form,
was last year the large amount of 57,
000,000 of pounds, valued at $ 3,000,000.
while the whole export from Britain of
her cheese is little over 3,000,000 of
pounds. Even the Dutch, who have
made a speciality of cheese for centuries,
and who in their varieties adapt their
artiole to many tastes and markets, ex
ported last year only half the quantity
we did. When tms experiment was
commenced the European cheeses had
all special markets and special customers,
who took them regularly, and would not
be induced readily to make the change,
while the previous charaoter of our cheese
was not in its favor, but rather the con
trary. We had, therefore, nothing to
look to for success but the superiority of
the article at the price, and in less than
twenty years, with everything rather
against than for us, we have surpassed
England in the world's markets, and are
at this day selling nineteen times as much
cheese as she is able to do, with all her
prestige - and previous fame as a cheese
producer I In all the history of progress
there is no parallel to this triumph of
American adaptation of htting means to
needed facilities. Switzerland, from a
kind of necessity imposed on it by the
peculiarities of Alpine pastures, had had
a kind of co-operative cheese-making be
fore we commenced it ; but it was and is
of small account. Our co-operative ar
rangements enabled many single work
ers with but indifferent success, by that
union which is strength, to become a
great power for supplying the world
with two prime articles ot family con
sumption, and for doing it well. Our
triumph, however, is not yet quite com
plete. Before it is so we have got to do
one of two things, or both; that is, to
produce a cheese which will surpass in
its attractive qualities the favorite pro
ducts of all other countries, or to produce
cheeses so nearly approaching these fav
orites in qualities as to compete with
them successfully.
Among the chief of these favorite
cheeses is Milton, the highest-priced,
which is made chiefly in Leicestershire,
England, from the cream of one milking
being added to the new milk of the
next. The weight seldom exceeds
twelve pounds, and two years are re
quired to mature it.
Parmesan, the most famed of Italian
cheeses, is a product of the richest pas
tures of the Milanese territory. It is
made from skim-milk, weighs one hund
red and eighty pounds each, and re
quires the milk of one hundred cows for
each cheese.
Cheshire cheese, one of the very best
ox JSngnsn cheeses, is the product ot the
poorest land. Its weight is often as high
as one nunoreu to two hundred pounds,
and one pound of cheese to each cow
daily throughout the year, is considered
a lair average yieia. .
Oouda, the best Holland, is a full milk
cheese and weighs about fifteen pounds.
Uruyere, a celebrated Bwiss variety,
possibly owes much of its distinguishing
character to the peculiarity of the Alpine
pasture. It is made of milk skimmed or
not skimmed, according to the kind of
cheese desired.
Chedder cheese is made chiefly in
Somersetshire from milk in which all its
own cream is retained, and Gloucester is
made from milk deprived of part of its
cream. " Double " and " single " Glou
cester, are terms applied in reference to
size and not as to quality, the one being
twice the thickness of tho other.
Dunlop cheese is the choicest Scottish
product, and made much in the same
way as Cheshire.
The Suffolk cheese is made from skim-
milk, and weighs twenty-flvo to thirty
pounds. i , , .i
The J.dam cheese of Holland owes not
a little of its popularity to its smallness
ana lorin. in making it at certain sea
sons the milk is partly skimmed ; the
cheese is colored a yellowish red for the
English market, and red for the French ;
the weight is about four pounds, and
each cow in summer is expected to yield
two hundred pounds skim-milk cheese
and eighty pounds of butter;
The Koquetort is the chief oheeso of
France. It is made from the milk of
sheep and goats, half of which has been
skimmed ; its weight is four to five
pounds, and it is believed to owe much
of its peculiar character to the natural
vaults or fissures in the neighboring
roccs, where the ripening is performed,
and which are constantly tilled with
cold air from subterranean recesses.
These special favorites are those which
bring the best prices, and Wisconsin has
commenced the right policy for America,
by ascertaining how these favorites are
made, and making thorn so as if possible
even to surpass the genuine original ar
ticle in its peculiar excellence. It only
requires a few intelligent, persevering
men or women to set themselves to do
it, in order to secure that in a very fow
years we should be sending Stiltons to
Leicester and Edams to Holland, and
the best variety everywhere. In all
dairy management m order that the
maximum of success may be attained.
the whole of those things from which
profits accrue and which dovetail or fit
into each other, as it were, must be car
ried on simultaneously. A very large
part ot cheese, and possibly the best pay
ing part, is made from skim-milk ; a
butter factory should, therefore, always
accompany the cheese factory as its com
plement, and perhaps the best paying
part of the farmer's work. Again, the
whey of' every two cows will keep, or
nearly keep, one pig, and, therefore, a
pork department is a necessity, and one
in which the produce is nearly all profit
ana good prices always realized readily.
Again, some cattle will pay better to
fatten for the butcher than to milk, and
there should be a beef department for
this purpose. 'The feeding of such cat
tle is scarcely a perceptible addition to
the expense of the establishment, and
the price on sale is a very substantial
gain. New York State will not be what
it seems destined to become, the world's
provision warehouse, until each of its
many co-operative factories, or farm fac
tories, is thus prepared to take advan
tage of all the sources of profit a farm
presonts.
Opium liaising In Tennessee.
The Toledo Blade says! Dr. J. W.
Morton, a gentleman residing in Nash
ville, has for soveral years past given
considerable attention to the culture of
opium in Tennessee, in order to stimu
late which he sent abroad for different
kinds of seeds, and distributed them
gratuitously among his friends and
neighbors. Owing to the lateness of
last year's planting, the crop of 1670
proved a lailure, which was, perhaps,
also due to the inferior aualitv of the
soil. To obviate this difficulty, he ob
tained seed this year from Calcutta and
Smyrna, for which he paid as high as
11.50 in gold per ounce. The crop of
tne present season nas been a success,
and the doctor will harvest from fifty to
seventy-five pounds of opium per acre,
from which he will no doubt realize a
handsome profit. Another-gentleman,
Itev. Fountain E. Pitts, who has follow
ed the example set by Dr. Morton, and
also extensively engaged in the culture
ot tne poppy, reports similar success. Af
ter three years trial he succeeded in
raising the best opium poppy seed from
Smyrna, whioh be planted in good land,
ana now cultivates in niucn tne same
manner as cotton. - When the capsu
are ready to scarify, he makes an incision
in one side, and the next evening scrapes
off the gum, which has, when first
gathered, the appearance and consistency
of cream. Incisions are then made on
the opposite sides of the capsules, and
the process of gathering repeated the
following evening, which exhauBts the
capsules. A few hours after the opium
is gathered it turns a dark purple color,
which continues to grow deeper until
the characteristic opium color is reached.
As long as opium and its products re
main a medical necessity, we may as
well congratulate ourselves that it has
been demonstrated that we can grow it
ourselves, and thus probably do away
with importing this expensive drug from
foreign countries ; but of all exisiting
remedies, the ultimate benefit derived
from which is of a doubtful kind, and
whioh causes probably more injury in
proportion to the good it accomplishes.
opium, next to whiskey, takes the fore
most rank.
A correspondent writes to iuquire
what is the best treatment to prevent
the development of hydrophobia in
dogs '" Don't know about the best.but
if you will give your dog water enough
it is pretty certain he can't have the dis
ease. ' The safest way to insure him an
abundance of this indispensable fluid is
to anchor bim in about seven feet of wa
ter, so that his head will be from eigh
teen to twenty-five inches below the sur
face. In that way he can drink as much
as he wants. Any surplus he may
swauow win oo more good than barm.
Chicago Bevuhlican.
1 1
BT EDKA CAUQBR DAVIS. , ,
Through pane and crevice the moonbeams fall,
And the owl takes np his shrilly call ; -;
The beaded grass Is afrlint with dew,
And blithely tho cricket, the long night
through, - i
Slugs chirrup, chirrup.
.
From her cosy nook by the ample hearth,
8tie fills the house with her lightsome mirth ;
Never the day so dark and drear, .
That eho cannot lighten with note of cheer
Chirrup, chirrup.
When tho summer hours wax bright and long,
And the air is laden with scent nud song;
Whilo tho fierce heats glide lu tho wake of
Juno,
Sho begins to pipe her noisy tune . ;
(Jinrrup, cmrrup. ,
And still. When the autumn days grow brief,
Ana tne cccuc tints nave ayea eacn icai,
Beneath the hedee. nnd beside the hearth,
This tricksy sprite, with its mocking mirth,
Sings chirrup, chirrup.
Alas ! for tho gifted brain that wrought,
And the hand that penned tho glowing
thought,
That linked for ayo to a deathless fame, .
Dear household fairy, thy humble name
Thy chirrup, chirrup."
Each happy sons In earth's wide domain
To our iuuer seuse bears a sod refrain ;
Ami we hush tho sigh or vain regret
For the vanished joys inwoven yet
With each cmrrup, cmrrup i
. Oliver OptWt Nagazino.
Pickens's Cricket on the Hearth.
MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS.
Brunettes are coming into fashion
again.
Indian tradesmen at Niagara complain
mournfully of the season.
Miss Ada Shriver, of Dayton, Ohio, .
has been appointed Professor of Paint
ing, in Michigan University.
A watering-place correspondent writes
that where he is they distinguish be
tween tenor and bass musquitoes.
The Postoffice Department has figures
to Bhow that 100,000 peoplo have settled
in Texas during the past year. ,
A man in Barnet, Vt., boasts of hav
ing read the New Testament through
sixty-five times within ten years.
A Massachusetts boy cut off his young
sister's golden curls while she slept, to
get money with which to go to the
ces.
Some of the farmers of Tennessee are
successful in their attempts to raise
opium from the poppy. The yield is
from fifty to eeventy-five pounds to the
acre.
The " Carolina Broom Company " is a
company of colored men , engaged in
the manufacturing ot brooms in Colum
bia, 8. C. - .l!
THE CRICKET,
The Japanese government are to have -
a now gold and silver coinage, to corres
pond with the American, pf which tho
yeu, or dollar, will be the unit. ' - k :
Tho citizens of New Zealand have de- .
termined to form a joint stock whaling ,
company, to compete with American
whalers in those waters. '
Dr. Duvall, who is serving out a life
sentence in the Waupun (Wisconsin)
prison, for murdering his wife, supports
his daughter by writing religious music.
L. N. Casanava, a Cuban gentleman -
residing in Virginia, proposes to estab
lish a Cuban colony in Fauquier county.
Virginia, made up from the best social
class in the island. ,-.
Dame Fashion's latest edict, to the ef
fect that quiet house weddings will be
strictly en regie next winter, appears
generally to have been favorably receiv
ed by her devotees. - - - -
The Empress Eugenie is about to make
a visit to Spain to see her mother. Na
poleon is purchasing property near Ge
neva, in Switzerland, with a view of re
siding there.
John King, a Quaker, was tho first
teetotaler in Great Britain. lie is now
seventy-five years old, and is living with
his fourth wife. All the teetotalers of
the United Kingdom are going, to give a
penny each for his benefit
It is said that a reckless potato bug.
having gone through the State of Khode
island, -was last seen mounted on a wind
mill by ths seaside, wiping his eyes on
the sails, and weeping because there
were no fresh world to conquer. , ... ; , -j
A Lowell ! paper relates that a man
in that town kept the dead body of
child for three weeks in alcohol, in a tin '
boiler, that he might bury it with his ;
wife, whose death he was expecting,and
who died a few days ago ! ',
' The Boston . Transcript ventures the
opinion that this is the carnival sum
mer for vermin. Musquitoes sing like (
locomotives, and sting like the piercing ,
of porcupine quills, while bugs swarm
like the locusts of old.
Now ! is the time, when cholera is
threatening, to use disinfactAnta. anrl in
keep everything pure and clean about '
1.1 1 - .
me oouse. iteuiemDer Cleanliness is
next to godliness especially when an
epidemio is approaching. - '
A general drouth prevails throughout '
the northern tier of counties in Texas. .
All kinds of vegetables and farm pro
ducts, except cotton, are so nearly a to- '
tal failure that a stampede of settlers is ;
expected as soon as cold weather sets in, -
A California genius has invented what . c .
he calls the Eureka boot-puller, which .
consists of a leather belt having two '
hookB attached to it. He places the belt " ' "'
over his right shoulder, adjusts the hooks ,. ;
in his boot-straps, and then leans back- '
ward and the tightest boot is conquered. ' 3 ' t:'
A rural gent of eighteen summers in- J " ' '
vested in a banana on the ears on Mon- L '
day. He carefully removed the peel,
and put it on the seat by his side y thea ' .
he broke the fruit up in small pieces, t : ,
eyeing it anxiously as he did so, - When ,
this was done he picked up the peel, .'
shook it in his lap, and finally threw the '
Eieces out of the window, remarking as" J
e did so, That's the fust of them prize 1
packages ever I bought, an it's the last,
you bet"
( :
I I

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