Newspaper Page Text
J. W. ANDERSON. Editor and Proprietor.
Today.
rhe sunshine lingers in the room,
I gee it through the window stream,
Kissing the pillow, where he lay
His head in many a boyish dream,
Hut, oil! the change since yesterday,—
'ihe young, strong step that I so miss.
The woary miles now stretching on
Between us, and my last fond kiss.
And mine had been a different pi n,—
A droam of sheltered nooks and bowers,
Of toil and pleasure hand in hand,
Of home and friends and merry hours.
But he had longed to try the world,
Its hopes, its promises, its cart s,
To tempt Dame Fortune’s fickle smile,
And win her to hitn unawares.
And so, with spirit bold and brave,
He pressed my hand in mute “good-bye,"
And turned aside, lest I should see
The teats that glistened in his eye.
And my poor hoart wus aching sore,
He might have heard each throb ot pain,
My questioning heart, that yearned to know
If I should meet my boy again.
Oh, life is hard! The common lot,
And parting wring the anguished heart.
But, oh! how differently we’d choose,
Yet see our fondest hopes depart!
IVe take the burden wo would fain
Lay down, and fold our weary hands,
Playing our loss may be his gain,
Trusting to Him who understands.
—Every Other Saturday.
A Detective’s True Story.
“I have lost faith in some detective
methods and have learned to be very
careful,” said Detective James K.
Price, of the Twenty-ninth Precinct
“Yes, I’ve been looking a little grave
for the last few days, and I’ve had an
experience. There’s nothing very
startling in it, but it’s an interesting
story, if it’s not the first I’ve told about
a crime. I like it because there’s
nothing vulgar or rankly criminal
about it, and no police officer ought to
disregard the lesson I wa3 taught.
But no names, mind! No, it must be
what you call anonymous all through,
although at least half a dozen persons
in this city and two in a western city
will at once recognize the principals
and side actors in it.
“The starting point is the well fur¬
nished bedroom of one of New-York’3
most celebrated operating surgeons.
It won’t do any harm to say it’s in a
house in Fifth-avenue not far from
Ihe Hotel Brunswick, The surgeon
has been bedridden for some time,
owing to an injury to his knee, but his
practice and patients are so important
and solid that for some time he has
received those who absolutely declined
treatment at other hands at his bed¬
side. The other day he was very busy
He possesses a fine Jurguensen watch
which, with the chain, is worth $650.
In the morning he called his page, told
him to give him the watch, and the
doctor wound it up and saw the page
put it on the mantelpiece. Then he
devoted himself to his patients, enter¬
ing the name of each on a slate as he
or she went away. Hours passed by
and when leisure came and the doctor
wanted to know the time his watch
could not be found. I was sent for
and the facts for me to handle were
simple. Thirteen patients and the
page were the only persons who had
been in the bedroom from the time
that the watch was wound up —one of
them was a thief.
“ ‘How about the boy?’ I asked.
“ ‘Out of the question, Price,’ said
the doctor; ‘I have tested his honesty
and have the utmost faith in him.’
“ ‘Then ?’ I began.
“ ‘Then,’ said the doctor, ‘you must
look for the thief among my patients,
and do your duty as an officer.’
“Of course the doctor’s slate was
consulted, and 12 of the persons who
called were vouched for by him as
absolutely beyond suspicion. The
thirteenth patient was the child of a
lady from Cincinnati. The mother’s
name I should have remembered, as it
is that of a man whose position in
social circles both in Cincinnati and
other cities is among the highest Mrs.
-came to this city with one of the
most famous physicians of the West
to have Dr.-treat her child, five
years old, for hip trouble and occupied
a suite of rooms at the Sturtevant
House. Dr.-knew the physician t
but did not know the lady. At first
Dr. would not allow himself to
believe that the watch ought to be
looked for in that quarter. But there
were the other 12 patients and the
page acquitted and he had to bring
himself down to stern facts. The first
move was to send for the physician.
He told who the lady was and was
agitated and alarmed when the sug¬
gestion was delicately made that she
was a kleptomaniac. Confronted
with the facts, he admitted that affairs
most take their course, at th$ same
time declaring his belief in the lady’s
innocence. Dr. told me to probe
the affair to the bottom, and was a
little influenced by a member of his
household, who saw the lady from Cin¬
cinnati in the surgeon’s parlor, and
‘did not like her looks.’ *
“1 mancBuvered to be in the suspect
j>er»oa’» pretence without betraying
rr % y f u
/
♦
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1880.
myself. I struck on the personality
of a mat: cr of appliances for distorted
limbs and went to the hotel. I saw
the lady first without her seeing me
through a half opened door, and like
the man in the song, ‘I sez to myself,
sez I,’ ‘if you’re a thief James K. Price
doesn’t know anything about honest
faces.’ Then I was admitted to her
presence, and I have seen very few
such gracious and admirable women.
She had my sympathy at the outset,
and she was so wrapped up in her girl
and spoke so tenderly of the little
cripple’s cheerless life of agony that a
dozen times I was about to betray my¬
self before the proper time came. Then
I asked her to Bit and listen to me for
a minute, told her who I was, and
stammered out the story of the rob¬
bery and our suspicions. Had 1 had
any suspicion left it would have been
swept away by the manner of the lady.
Her hands went up, her face changed,
and if I had put a dagger in her she
could not have shown more pain. No
crying out or showing off, hut real,
dead earnest grief, as if a sorrow too
great to get through her ideas had
come upon her.
“After a while she said: ‘And do
you believe me guilty?’
«< « No, ma’am,’ I replied, bluntly and
honestly.
“Then she asked what she should
do? The thief must be found, she
could not rest under suspicion that
would be a blot not only on her but on
her unfortunate little girl. She did
not need to beg me to clear up the
mystery, and I put in some heavy
work on the case, after telling Dr.
-that 1 did not suspect the woman,
and being told that no one else could
be suspected. A couple of days after
the lady, her child, and the physician
went back to Cincinnati, She was
broken down; hor features had chang¬
ed under the keen sting of suspicion.
Next day I found who was the thief.
I had gone over the list on the slate
many times, and was compelled, little
by little, to narrow my field of suspic¬
ion, when I discovered that one of the
patients was accompanied by his son,
a youth of 20. I went to work on these,
and found I had to deal with a clergy
man whose name is recognized every¬
where in New-York, and of whom few
educated Americans are ignorant. I
had made only a couple of inquiries
about the boy when I started for the
pawnshop and in a few hours I had
the watch and chain and knew who
pawned them. I had, too, an inter¬
view with the mother of the young
man, a kind, pleasant lady, whose
faith in and anxiety about her son and
husband when I inquired about them,
were touching. I was pretty well sick
of the case when I told her the truth.
After her agony was over she said I
must see the father. I called on him
later and came near breaking down.
Yet, he met me with outstretched
arms, took me by the hands, and, with
tears streaming down his cheeks, said:
‘Brother, this is a hard blow, a harder
one never was dealt me. I thought I
was sorely stricken a little while ago,
when I laid my daughter to rest for
ever, but this tries me more.’ I sat
with him for an hour. 1 had such dis
cretion as is proper in such cases and
could promise not to make an arrest
until ordered to act harshly by Dr.-,
receiving a promise that the delinquent
should be ready for me if the com¬
plainant decided to punish him.
“Of course he was not punished’
When I laid the watch and chain on
Dr.-’s bed and named the thief he
said, ‘Price, stop right there.’ But,’
said Price, brightening up, “I took
from that room and mailed a very sat
isfactory letter to the Cincinnati lady
which was penned at my suggestion.
“How about the young man?"
“Well’ it’s a question of reform or
coming my way. Guess he’ll quit
funny business for a time. But I’m
glad about the lady. I’ve had a lesson
that’ll last me some time .”—Hew York
Times.
The Northern Light.
It is argued there is a great open
polar sea surrounded by icy cliffs and
lashed at times by fearful wind and
magnetic storms. W hen these occur
the spray is hurled into the air and
the reflection of the sunlight creates
the phenomena known as the “north
ern lights.” But this riddle will never
be solved until by air-ship or some
other agency the pole is reached, and
its conditions and surroundings thor
oughly explored.—Day Star.
He Took the Hint.
It was very late. They sat quiet.
Conversation had long been desultory
and disjointed. He would not go. A
brass band in the far distance struck
up a mournful dirge.
“How pretty that music sounds on
the still night air ?” said he.
“Yes,” she answered, wearily. “What
are they playing? Yes—it is ‘Home,
sweet Home?’”
He took the hint, and he has it now.
Cowboy and Broncho.
In a letter to the Philadelphia Times
describing a “roping match” with
bronchos and steers at the Albuquer¬
que, (New Mexico,) territorial fair
the writer says:
As a rule the cowboys were well
mannered but a few were enthused
and swore with spirit at everybody
and everything, these choice ebullitions
being usually preceded by an Apache
yell. After an hour of discussion and
pleasant wrangling, the judge himself
a tine rider, called out the name of an
Arizona cowboy, a champion puncher
and rustler from Apache county. At
the same moment a wild-eyed broncho
was released from the pen, and went
bounding and bucking over the minia¬
ture plain. According to the rule, the
Apache county man had to saddle his
own broncho, lariat the fleeing horse,
and rope him for branding in a certain
time. Being a rustler, he rustled
around so lively that before the
broncho was two hundred feet away
he had saddled and bridled his own an
imal, swung himself on to it, and wa3
off, gathering up his lariat as he went.
The other broncho, hearing the coming
enemy, doubled his pace, dodging here
and there, but at every turn he was
met by his pursuer, who was evident¬
ly directed by his rider’s legs, and in
an incredibly short space of time the
fugitive was overhauled; the rope
whistled through the air and dropped
quickly over the broncho’s head, re¬
gardless of the toss he had made. The
instant it fell the pursuing broncho
rushed and headed off the other, wind¬
ing the rope about his legs; then, sud¬
denly sitting down upon his haunches,
he waited, with ears back, for the
shock. It came with a rush, and the
little horse at the other end of the rope,
as was the intention, went headlong
on to the field, the cowboy’s broncho
holding him down by the continual
strain that he kept up. The moment
the horse went down the cowboy
vaulted from the saddle, untying a
rope from his waist as he ran, and was
soon over the prostrate animal, lash¬
ing the hoofs with dexterous fingers,
so that it could have been branded
then and there. This accomplished,
up went his hands as a signal to the
judges, who now came galloping over
the field, a roar of cheers and yells
greeting the Apache county man, who
had done the entire work in twelve
minutes, thereby securing the prize of
sundry dollars.
A Great Institution.
An English exchange says, that to
the question, “What is Lloyds?” the
answer must be: The great marine in¬
surer of the world. And yet it is not
a joint-stock company, nor a “limited”
association, nor are its members bound
together by any mutual Interest. It is
a perfectly anomalous institution, and
yet the greatest of the kind the world
ever saw. The rooms of Lloyd’s are the
rendezvous of the most eminent mer¬
chants, ship-owners, underwriters, in
surance brokers and bankers, The
! Merchants’ room is superintended by a
! shipmaster, who speaks a dozen lan
guages or more, and welcomes busi
nes 3 men from every nation. The
Captains’ room is a coffee-room where
ship-owners and sea-captains meet to
gether, transact business and discuss
the news.
But it is the Subscribers’ room that
makes Lloyd’s the attraction it is. The
2,100 underwriters and subscribers
who pay their annual 4 guineas here,
and their 25 pounds sterling initiation
fee, represent nearly the whole com
niercial wealth of England. Lloyd s
itself does not insure; it is only ihe
! members of Lloyd’s. You wish
to insure 10,000 pounds sterl
ing on a venture to the Ber
rnudas. Your broker goes to Lloyd’s
and proposes, naming the ship and car
go. An underwriter turns to the reg
ister, ascertains how the veseels is rat
ed, speaks to two or three others, and 1
then says to the broker, “Yes, we will
do it at one-eight of one.” “Who
signs?” asks the broker. “Magnay,
R icb8rds0Ili Coleman, Thompson and
myself.” “That will do,” replies the
broker, who, while the clerk makes out
the po jj cyi proposes again and again
f or 0 £her ventures. “Is this consid
(;red per fecUy safe!” does the reader
p erfect i v . The broker knows
hjg m0n Besides, to fail to meet a
, oag forfeitg for ever all right to do j
business at Lloyd’s,
What Happened to Pa.
“Is your pa at home little girl?”
“Yes, sir, do you wish to see him?”
“Yes.”
“But you 1’ won’t know him if you do j
see him
“Why, what’s the matter?” j
•‘Well, you see, out in the country
on our farm a man and his wife got
fighting, and pa he tried to stop them.” j
“Oh, indeed !”
“Yes; you’d better call again. You
wouldn’t know pa now.”— Courier- I
{Journal. j
MAKING OIL PAINTINGS.
HowiCheap Daubs are Turned
out in New York.
Factories Produoe Them by the Thousand
for $20 a Dozen.
Every winter, says the New York
Hail and Express, circulars are sent
to farmers and villages, offering them
“real oil painting,”‘ copies of old mas
ters,” and “copies of the works of the
most famous of modern artists” in “ele¬
gant gilt frames” at prices which are
described as “defying all competition.”
Agents in this city who send the cir¬
culars profess contempt for chromos
and cheap engravings, which, they de¬
clare disfigure the walla of many
homes. They claim to have made
contracts with rising young artists for
the production of celebrated paintings,
which they can sell to a favored few !
for sums which amount to little more
than the cost of the materials, ^hey
also have purchased, at a bankrupt
sale, a collection of fine gilt frames,
which they wish to sell at a small
profit. By such means they can offer
an oil painting and frame for $5,
which would cost $50 if purchased in
the regular way. The result is that
in many rural homes are found high¬
ly-colored paintings in imitation gilt
frames. The pictures are usually ex¬
pressionless landscapes, marked by
dimness of outlines and haphazard
blending of colors. City people often
Wonder where such daubs come from.
In boarding-houses and in many hum¬
ble homes in the city the cheap oil paint¬
ing have made their appearance in re¬
cent years through the medium of
mock auction sales. Many a busy New
Yorker has his attention drawn to
more than one of the mock auction
rooms which abound in the downtown
districts. The open door is close to
the sidewalk and persons passing can
see at the further end of the room an
oil painting on an easel which is light¬
ed brilliantly, by a row of gas jets
from above. Seen at a distance and
in a new gilt frame, the picture has
an attractive appearance to an un¬
practised eya The K*ut tones of the
auctioneer can be heard plainly in the
street. His words are seductive to
men on the lookout for bargains.
Several other men inside the place are
his assistants, or “cappers,’, but they
play the role of outside buyers. When
a stranger enters the room they bid
eagerly. Daub after baub is knocked
to them at $10, $20 or $25 until the
stranger makes a modest bid. If he
offers more than $2 for a painting and
frame the auctioneer lets him have it.
Most buyers think they have secured
bargains until their gaudy paintings
have hung in their homes for a few
months. Then the imitation gilt be¬
gins to crack like the paint on a fire
board, the bright hues darken on the
canvass and each owner suspects he
has been sold.
“There are a dozen factories in New
York and Brooklyn where such daubs
are made,” said a picture dealer to a
Mail and Express reporter. “It is
said that the factories turn out from
500 to 1,000 oil paintings a day, ac¬
cording to the condition of trade.
The bulk of such pictures is shipped
West, but thousands of daubs are sold
in New York and neighboring States
every year. Any one who looks close¬
ly at the ordinary run of them can
guess how they are made. With big I
paint brushes, pots of different colored
P a *ut and a set of stencil plates, a
workman who has no knowledge of
art matters can produce one of the
regulation daubs. Even the prepara
tion tbe stencil-plates does not re
quire much artistic ability. Canvas
for the pictures is made of cheap
stuff and hastily tacked on frames,
Copies of paintings in which there is
little variety of color are the favorites,
Ordinary paint is used. First, the
prevailing colors or groundwork, of a
painting are put upon a canvas with
one stencil-plate, and the canvas is
placed in a drying rack while the same
stencil is used for other copies. By
the time the last canvas of a set has
received its groundwork the first one
is ready for the addition of different
colors with another stencil-plate. So
the work goes on until a workman has
completed a set of 100 or 200 pictures,
a)1 alike and a11 worthless from an ar
tistic standpoint Among picture
dealers such paintings are known as
‘Buckeyes.’ In most factories the
stencil work doss net complete the
pictures, and poor artists are hired by
the week to add hasty finishing touch¬
es to each canvas. It is necessary to
protect the cheap pigments by a
heavy coat of varnish, which also
tones down the most glaringimperfec
tion.-. The actual cost of a completed
oil painting is less than 25cents. Deal
ers m the West buy the ‘buckeyes’ for
$10 per dozen and upwards, according
!<> s
“Frames for the pictures are made
in the same factories. The fronts or
faces of pine frames are covered with
plaster, which is moulded in imitation
of the prevailing styles of gold frames.
Over the plaster is spread a thin coating
of Vienna metal. The linished frames
look nearly as well as gold frames
when they are new, but they begin to
crack when they have been exposed to
the air for a few weeks. Imitation
gilt frames cost the manufacturer a
trifle more than ‘buckeyes,’ hut he
will sell the pictures and frames to¬
gether for $20 per dozen. I know of
one man who offers small daubs for
$16 per dozen, frames included.
Agents can sell a picture and frame
for $2 and make a fair profit.”
Discoveries of the 19th Ceutnry.
Few great discoveries were made in
the first century of America. Noth¬
ing much had been brought out of our
continent before the time of Franklin
but furs. There were no reliable gold
mines in the country under colonial
rule. Hard coal was not considered
fit to burn until some time in the pres¬
ent century, and all the anthracite
wealth of Pennsylvania and the great
bituminous coal fields have been de¬
veloped in comparatively recent times.
Cotton was of no account for a good
while in the history of the country.
Oil was not found until our great civil
war was on the top of us, and in the
very height of that war the oil fever
seemed to make the war itself an in¬
different matter. As long as slavery
stood up to be fought for no phos¬
phates were found in the Carolinas,
and the greatest result following the
rebellion has probably been the appli¬
cation of scientifiic manures to our
soils.
Silver in Colorado has all been found
within a few years. The Comstock
lode, in Nevada, which for its period
produced more silver than any other
deposit known to man, was a develop¬
ment following the rebellion. Elec¬
tricity, in which the Americans have
been so fortunate, being provided by
it with common Illuminating lamps,
took a new start almost a hundred
years after the time Franklin was
playing with it. Now they are find¬
ing natural gas in the western states
and about the foot-hills of the Alle¬
ghenies.
Alaska is the last region to tempt
explorers, and, hard and cold as that
country is, it may become in Ameri¬
can hands the key to the north pole,
and to many other wonders. Since we
acquired Alaska from the Russians
the fur seal robes have become known
all over the earth and yet those fur
seal islands might have been the prop¬
erty John Jacob Astor in the first
quarter of our century, when lie was
attempting to anticipate the Pacific
railroad by a line of posts from the
Missouri river to Puget sound.— Cin¬
cinnati Enquirer.
Oat of the World.
The people of St. Ivilda, an island in
the Atlantic to the west of Barra and
the coast of Scotland, are shut off by
stormy weather from the mainland for
eight months out of every twelve.
Their crops having been ruined by last
month’s storms, they sent off messa¬
ges in a box, which was thrown into
the sea, and which luckily floated
ashore, or they would have starved
long before the summer, when they
would have received their next visit
from Scotland. It is an extraordinary
little settlement. There are seventy
seven inhabitants, including the min
ister and schoolmaster. They are fair
ly well off, with tolerable houses and
good food and clothes. There are
1,000 sheep, which are common prop
erty, and each inhabitant possesses a
cow. There are no horses, and the
women do the horses’ work. In win
ter the men weave the cloth with
which the people are clothed, and in
summer they are occupied with their
farming operations. They marry
among themselves, and the race has so
deteriorated that half the
now die of lockjaw a few
after their birth. There has
been some talk about the islanders re
moving to inclined the mainland, but where the they ma- j
are to stay
They are simply out of the j
world from the beginning of Septera
till the middle of -May.—Aero
York Hour.
War Prices iu the South.
A few days ago a party of gentle¬
were discussing high prices in the
during the latter part of the
war. “I paid $40 a yard for a
of gray cotton jeans,” said the
speaker; “the suit of clothes cost
$600 after being cut and made.
biggest trade I made during the
said No. 2. “was $30 for a spool
cotton thread.” “And I.” said the
speaker, “paid $15 for a shave.”
could a man carry enough
in his pocket to buy anything
I ventured to ask. “They j
it in their hats, boot pockets,
most anywhere it would stick,” re
No. I .—Marietta ( Go .) Journal
VOL. XII, NO 13.
CHILDREN’S COLUMN,
Little Thing*.
Little labors rightly done,
Little battles bravely won,
Little masteries achieved,
Little wants with care relieved,
Little words in love expressed,
Little wrongs at once confessed,
Little favors kindly done,
Little toils thou didst not shun,
Little graces meekly worn,
Little lights with patience borne—
Theso shall crown the pillowed hen
Holy light upon thee shed;
These are treasures that shall rise
Far beyond the smiling skies.
About needles.
“Mamma, what do they make nee¬
dles of ?” asked Dorothea as she looked
up from her sewing. She was a bright
eyed little girl of seven years, of an
inquiring turn of mind and industri¬
ous in her habits.
“Of wire, Dorothea,” replied her
mother.
“Steel wire ?"
“Yes.”
“It must be very fine
“It is so very fine that fifteen thou¬
sand ordinary needles can be made
out of one pound ot wire.”
“Do they make one needle at a time?”
“No, dear. That would be a very
Blow process, and would make them
rather expensive. One hundred wires,
eight feet long, are placed in a bundle
and cut into proper sizes by a power¬
ful pair of shears; it is so arranged
that one man can easily cut about one
million needles in a day of twelve
hours.”
Dorothea’s eyes widened.
How are they polished ?” she asked.
“I hardly know whether I can ex¬
plain the operation to you,” replied
her mother. “The needles are tied up
in bundles and placed in what is called
the scouring machine. They are kept
in motion from eight to ten hours,
which gives them a silvery appear¬
ance.”
“That seems simple enough,” ob¬
served little Dorothea.
“I didn’t say they came out of the
machine polished,”resumed the mother.
“The rolls are then covered with put¬
ty powder and oil, wrapped in canvas,
and placed in a similar machine called
the polishing machine. A third process
is necessary. The canvas is removed
and the needles are agitated in a ves¬
sel filled with soft soap and water.”
“In order to remove the oil?” Doro
thea asked.
“Yes, dear. They are finally dried
in ashwood sawdust, after which they
are tempered.”
Which means brittle, don’t it, mam¬
ma?”
“Just so. It is done by making them
hot, plunging them into oil, and after¬
ward burning off the oil.” .
Dorothea was very much interested.
She now closely examined the needle
which she had in her hand.
Mamma, do they drill the eyes and
sharpen the needles before they temper .
them?” she asked.
Yes, Dorothea. I was getting along
too fast in my description. A clever
workman will drill and polish the
holes of seventy thousand needles per
wee ^‘
“That is a large number, mamma.
Are they sharpened on a grindstone?”
^ e3 ‘
“One needle at a time?”
Oh, no. An expert grinder will hold
twenty-five of the wires at once
against the stone, presenting all their
points by a dextrous movement of his
thumb.”
Dorothea pushed her inquiries.
“Wnere are needles pnnc.pally made,
mamma?
j “In Redditch, a small town near
Birmingham, in England. It is the
f? reat centre of the needle trade, and
il ma y be said t,lat il has supplied the
whole world for almost two hundred
years- Ninety millions of needles are
turned out every week.”
It was a larger number than Doro
thea’s mind could grasp.
“Did they use needles in old times ?”
she asked.
“They are mentioned by some very
old writers. The beautiful Babylo
nian embroideries, which were often
made out of gold thread were wrought
with needles. The body of the wife
of the Emperor Honorius, whose grave
was discovered at Rome, ia 1544, was
wrapped up in an embroidered dress, |
from which thirty-six pounds of gold
were obtained. The needles used by
the ancient Egyptians were made of j
bronze. They had no eyes in them, |
ow’ing to the difficulty of piercing
8UC h m i nu te holes in the metal.”
_________
A Soulful Appetite.
Miss Clara (at the front door)—
Good-night, George, dear, As you
look upon the moon on your journey
homeward, let the thought come to ■
you that I, too, am gazing toward the
same pale orb, and our souls will hold
sweet communion. Good-night,
A little later. Miss Clara (in the
house)—Mother, do you know what
become of all those cold buckwheat
Ci,kes over trom breakfast? j
SCIENTIFIC SCRAPS,
Since 1885, it is stated, 4,609 per¬
sons have been struck dead by light¬
ning in France, 1,000 have received
fatal injuries, 4,000 have been seized
with momentary and temporary paraly¬
sis, and 20,000 have been struck with¬
out receiving any injury.
The brightness of some stars varies
periodically, more than 108 so-called
variable stars being known, while
many more are “suspected variables.’*
The periods range from a few days to
many years. The variation is usually
slight.
It is suggested that within a few
years, it will be possible by means of
chemical action to supply all seaboard
cities with fresh water extracted from
the ocean itself. It can be done now,
but the process is too costly for gener¬
al use.
The rapidity with which stalactites
Are formed under favorable conditions
is well shown in St. John’s Gate, Que¬
bec. This old gate in the walls of the
city was rebuilt in 1867 of a grayish
limestone, and the constant dripping
of water from the crevices has made
deposits of rather dirty limey matter.
In many cases regular stalactites have
been formed, some reaching a length
of a foot and a half, and being at least
three quarters of an inch in diameter
at the base.
Correcting existing misapprehen¬
sions, Mr. Pryer, the traveler who re¬
cently visited the bird caves of North
Borneo, states that the edible birds’
nests so highly prized by the Chinese
are made from algie worked up in the
birds’ mouth with saliva. They can¬
not be formed from saliva alone. The
nests are of two colors, the black nests
being simply white ones grown old
and frequently repaired.
A curious case for the study of the
geologist was unearthed recently in
Indianapolis. Mr. W. W. Worthing¬
ton, foreman of the work of improv¬
ing the oourt-house yard, had occasion
to break in pieces a huge slab of lime¬
stone from the quarries of Greens
burg, southern Indiana. The piece of
stone was about fourteen inches thick,
and in the heart of it was imbedded
part of a huge sea crawfish lobster,
the vertebr® and bones corresponding
precisely to those of that well-known
animal of the crustacean variety. The
specimen obtained measured eighteen
inches in length, and was evidently
but two-tbirds of the entire animal.
It has been sent to the geological de¬
partment of Purdue University.
The Change of Foliage.
The immediate cause of the change
in the foliage during the fall lies in
the lessened action of the breathing
organs or pores of the leaves, resulting
from a loss of warmth and light due to
the shorter days. ’The natural stimu¬
lants to vegetation are withdrawn.
Shortly before the fall of the leaf, a
very delicate layer of cells starts from
the side of the stem and grows down¬
ward, completely separating the leaf
from any p;irticipatioQ ia the life cir _
culation of the plant. This explains
the amooth surface exposed on 9eparat .
ing a mature leaf from it3 branch .
With the cessation of the circulation
| of the sap, the leaves no longer absorb
carbonic acid gas and give off oxygen.
The great natural process of deoxida¬
tion is arrested, and finally reversed—
oxygen is absorbed. The chlorophyl,
or leaf green, which gave color to the
lo8Veg durj the earJi0r t of tJ)e
; i9now and changed to
xanthophib, or leaf yellow, and erethro
phi/l, or leaf red.
These new salts contribute nothing
to the nourishment of the leaf. No
carbonic acid is absorbed from the at¬
mosphere, and the leaf soon dies and
falls to the ground. The difference in
the coloring of the leaves depends upon
the local conditions, which hasten,
modify, or retard this chemical reac
tioQ i a the so-called evergreens, no
transverse cell formation takes place,
and th0 leaf ig never separated from
tf)0 clrcu i ation of the main tree _ xhey
alg0 evaporate legg in proport i on to
theii leaf surfac0 than ordinary trees.
Their mor0 slugglsh c i rcu i a tion is less
dependent upon c i im atic influences.
Scientific ' American.
_____
Swedish Folk Lore.
On New Year’s Eve, after the light
is put out in your bedroom, you must
throw your slipper over your left shott -
der and then look next morning to set
in what position it has fallen. If the
toe points to the door you will leav •
that house during the year, but if the
toe points inward then you will remain
where you are for another year. It is
customary also on the same night for
the people to go out into the house
where the logs of wood are kept that
are used for fuel. Each one picks im
the first log that comes to hand; if it
is a clean and shapely piece so will hh
(her) future partner be and vice versa
— Notes and. Queries