Newspaper Page Text
s
COUNTIN': APPLESEEDS.
TWMe th<* heart ;w«» winter night
Made rm y by ih“ great log‘a light,
Thai linn ling up the chimney dark.
Lit f>v«ry cranny, every no 7k,
Upon t rag a little maid
Nat ended, in po9“ demure and staid.
In pensive, mood, with dreamy eyes
Win* sits, while up the chimney flies
A thought with every fiery spark
tHintlng and flashing through f he dark
rill wit a sigh profound and deep
She m< i, ns one move* in her sleep,
A rosy apple in her hand
A weight of thought seems to demand
8he taps Jf with a linger light,
The* carefully e take a bite,
Aoother bit*-, now one, now two—
Tb< corn is thus expose 1 to view.
Another sigh ! what can It be
My little maid that nileth thee?
Ah ! what is this? tome im-antation?
Muttered with such reiteration?
Hark a« each ww l her bright eyes see,
'J he^e aro the words that e 0 rn" to me :
‘Mine | two I love
Three I love, I ay.
f Fotlr I lov with all my heart,
Five I cast away.”
Mere a (ear roils brightly down,
AV hat the secret she 1ms won?
Wb can ay' Hut just behind
Hounds a voice so snft and kind
Look again 1 Thou must indeoT
Hnd for me another seed
Hosier her bright cheeks glow
In the firelight's ruddy glow.
Huro enough a culprit seed,
Finds she in the core indeed
I rom thy lip* I fain would hear
tVfiat the sixth one meins, my dear.”
1 'Six tie lovei ’ she
murmured low,
And the firelight's flickering glow,
t wo happy faces now disclose
With cheeks Hglowing like the rose.
Hut here we’ll lot the curtain fall
*'or t ho oud ia beat of all.
Sacramento Union,
THE MAHOGANY SETTLE,
JIY HKliKV FORREST GRAVES.
bH. O A K L E Y—
3 bless her kindheart!
—was not of a jeal¬
ous nature, ft does
not behoove a min¬
ister’s wife to be
jealous; but the
dinner was already
on the table—a
well-browned roast
<• 11101101 ), with bread
sauce, and a baked
Indian pudding to follow—and it was
undoubtedly a relief when her hus¬
band came out of the study and seated
himself.
* ,w lhat Miss l’euriff? said she.
, V es, ) Mr. Oakley answered, “j(
Miss l’euriff. i
was She wants to sell j
her old mahogany settle.”
i AV hat ! cried Airs. Oakley, “that
dclightlul old settle, with the griffins’
bumpy heads at the top and the claw
feet at the bottom ? T didn’t know that
anything would induce her to part
with that.”
And then Mr. Oakley pronounced
the blessing
“I wish I could afford to buy it!”
added Mrs. Oakley, tucking n bib
apron under the youngest Oaklev’s
plump chin. “What did you tell her,
Simeon?”
“Why, 1 told her I’d write to that
big antique-buying firm in New York,”
said Oakley. “They’re the only peo¬
ple who can deal with her to any ad¬
vantage. A big hall-settle like that is
only appropriate for big houses, with
wide entrances, such as, according to
all reports, that poor, desolate old
maid once lived in. And big houses
are mostly found in big cities."
l l «>or thing! said Airs. Oakley.
And she helped her husband to
ftU v’
Mlule u Kezinh • lVnrill went slowly
home to the old red house under the
hill, where Dolly was making tomato j
catsup in the kitchen.
“Well, Dorothy, said she, “I’ve
done it.”
“Donc wluit. Aunt Kizzy?”
‘‘I vo sold the old hall-settle.”
Dolly looked up from the scarlet
steam ot the tomatoes to the cool hall
opposite, where the griffin’s wooden j
eye seemed to leer at her out of the j
shadows, and one carved and shining
daw was poised on the floor, as if I I
about to take a forward step.
“Oh, Aunt Kizzy!" said she.
“3es. 1 know." sighed the elder
woman. “But there's got to bean end
to everything, Dolly. I’m a poor
woman now, aud l can't afford to hold
onto luxuries that are nothin-- but
luxuries.” °
i
“But, gasped Dolly, stirring away j
with spasmodic vigor at the tomatoes,
"Grandfather Penriff brought that set-!
tie from Holland himself, and it's two
hundred years old! And it's the last
relic of the old house on the hill!” '
“Still, reasoned Miss Penrift’, look
ing away over the blue Indian sum
mer haze toward the yellowing forests,
“I ve no right to keep it, Dolly. It’s
been almost a matter of idolatry with
me, and perhaps I’d better let ‘it ^ i
We are poor. Dolly vervpoor!”
Dolly lifted the kettle off the stove.
“It s no disgrace." >aid she, with a
comical grimace. “But it’s most un
commonly inconvenient."
“If you feel that way, Dorothy,”
said Miss Penriff. “1 don’t see why you
refused Orlando Dailey last week.”
“3\hy, said Dolly, opening her
blue eyes very wide, “because I didn’t
love him !" I
“He’s very rich, Dorothy."
“He's welcome to his money, Aunt
Kizzy.”
“My goodness me," said Miss Pen- !
riff, putting on her spectacles (alas! j
what a trial to her pride that first pair i
<>f steel-rimmed spectacles had been!),
“who’s that driving down the road in i
a covered cart ?”
Dolly stepped back into the shadow. J
“I don’t know,” said she, “but — I
—think it’s Johnny Barton.”
“Oh !”said Miss Penriff. “Has that
young man gone into the express busi
ness?”
“Not exactly," said Dolly, busying
herself among the tomato jars. ‘-But
I think lie drives around picking up
old china and brass fire-dogs, and all
siteh things for some big collector in
New York. ”
“Oli!” again lettered 31 Penriff.
And thcr<* wui n whole volume of
meaning iu the one little word
“He’s a ve young man, said
Dolly, timidly.
THE MONROE ADVERTISER, FORSYTH, GA.. TUESDAY, MARCH 2 f 1891 • EIGHT PAGES
.
“I don t doubt it,” paid Mins Pen
riff. “But I wonder what he wants
here?"
The little discussion was terminate d
l»y the sudden tapping of Johnny Bar
ton's whip-handle against the side of
the open door.
Yes, he was a very nice young man
—bine-eyed and frank-faced, with yel- :
low hair curling away from his tern
pies, and white teeth which shone;
every time he smiled.
He had only been in Rodendale a
few weeks. Miss PenrifT had seen him
now and then, but she hardly tetnem
bored him.
“How do you do, Miss Pontiff? ”
■ aid he, with stupendous self-posses¬
sion.
« . Mr. Barton, aunt," said Dolly, in
a hurried sort of way. “This is my
aunt, Miss Penriff, Johnny.”
“I don’t know what has procured
me the honor of this call,” said Miss
Penriff, straightening herself up.
For she never could forget, this
poor, faded elderly woman, that her
father, Squire Peregrine Penriff, had
i once been the richest man in the
county.
! “Well, I don’t know much about
i the honor of the thing,” said John
'Barton, laughing. “But I’ve just
heard from Mr. Oakley that you
wanted to sell an old carved settle.
Pm buying up that sort of thing.”
“Oh, indeed?”
i j “Perhaps you would allow me to
look at it?" went on Johnny, resolved
! ou business.
Dolly filing open the hall window
that was generally kept closed and
curtained. A blaze of yellow sunlight
flooded the 1ml). a gust of sweet,
autumn, leaf-scented air came in and
the carved griffins seemed to wink
their wooden satisfaction.
“There!” cried Dolly. “Isn’t it a
beauty ? And heavy—oh, what a piece
of solid heaviness! Oh, that isn’t a
secret drawer! It’s only a 2 *hice to
put umbrellas and canes in. I used
to be certain there was a secret drawer
in it when I was a child. But I’ve
changed my mind now.”
John Barton -walked slowly around
the settle, eyeing it from every point
of view. Miss Penriff watched him.
“Yes, it is a beauty!” said he.
“What will you take for it, Miss Pen¬
riff?”
“ I hardly think you can afford to
buy it, young man,” said the elderly
lady grimly.
John Barton reddened a little.
“Oh, as for that,” said lie, rather
awkwardly, “I’m representing some
one else. Personally, perhaps—”
“Well,” said Miss Penriff, “it cost
three hundred dollars. But I don’t
expect to get its full value.”
“Aunt Keziah would tak a a lmn
dred,” fluttered Dolly, “if— -
“Very well,” said Mr. Barton, . < it’s
a bargain. Is there a man about the :
place who could help me lift it into j
the wagon?” i
“There’s old Silas Wiggins beyond j
the big rock,” suggested Dolly
And while Johnnie Barton was gone
for him, the old lady sat down on the
settle, where the yellow sunshine
glimmered and tlio smell of late
mignonnette came in at the window.
“Here was where I used to sit,”
said she. “There was a big stained
glass window in the hall just over it,
and a great fireplace beyond, where
they burned such big black logs of
cold, winter nights. And there, in
the other corner, my lover used to sit. ”
Her voice quivered ; a tear sparkled
in the faded blue eyes behind the
st eel-r im me d spec til cl es.
“Oh, Aunt Keziah!” cried Dolly,
suddenly flinging her arms around the
old lady’s neck. “I never knew you
had a lover. ”
“Does any woman ever live to be
twenty without a lover, child?” said
Miss Penriff. “But your grandfather
was a very ambitious man. He was
losing money in those South Sea ship
ping ventures even then, though I
didn’t know it—and he wanted me to
marry a rich man and retrieve the
family fortunes. And Henry was
poor.”
“Was that his name, Aunt Keziali?”
“So I never married at all,” went on
Miss Penriff. “Good-by, old settle!”
And, with infinite pathos, she touched
her lips lightly to the biggest of the
griffins’ heads.
But Dolly held tight to her aunt’s
hand; she clung around her neck, with
passionate kisses.
“Now you know, Aunt Keziah, ” said
she, almost in a sob, “why I didn’t ae- i
cept Orlando Dailey! Now you know
why I love Johnny Barton. Johnny I
isn’t rich, but neither was your Henry,
Oh, Aunt Keziah. you won't blame
’
me?”
“Dear me!” said Miss Penriff, in a j
sort of bewildered way. “You don’t
mean to say—"
“Yes,I dd,” said Dolly, turning pink
and white, like the tail hollvhocks at
the garden gate. “It was only last j
night, when we walked home from the >
prayer meeting together. I couldn't
think of what Elder Johnson was sav
iug because of John’s blue eves, aud it
all seemed like a dream to me, until
he asked me to trv and love him a
little •>*’ j
“And do you love him. Dorothy?”
“I’d ride around the whole wo"rld
with him in that old covered >srt, if
you only say ves!” sobbed the girl. ;
‘-t don’t care for money or rank. I
only know that 1 love John!” J
And she slipped back iuto the ska
dows as Johnny Barton and old Silas
Wiggins came to lift out the the ma
hoganv settle.
Mu4 Penriff watched them through
a mist of tears.
Here was the blossoming out of truth
and love, and all that blessed disre
gard of ways and means that only ^
comes in the dawn of life. She had
outgrown it all. but it was a story that
repeated itself with each new genera
tion.
She remembered that Mr. Oakley
had said that John Barton was a good
young fellow enough. She looked at
the old settle, where she and Henry
Hartford had sat years ago, and she
beckoned softly to Dolly.
“Dorothy,” said she, “if you love
the lad, take him. I—I was young
once!”
Aud then she went back into the
house, so that she might not see the
old griffins, with the claw feet, being
caried away.
Only two weeks afterward Dolly
came eagerly to her aunt,
“John’s uncle is coming down from
New York, ” said she—“the gentleman
who bought the mahogany settle. It
wasn’t for a store, Aunt Keziah, that
John Bought it. I was for his own
house. He’s very rich, and John ia
his only heir. And he liked my pho
Digraph, and lie's coming to see you
to-night. Doesn't it sound exactly
like a newspaper story?” faltered hap
py Dolly. “Who’s that knocking at
the door? It can't l»e John’s undo
already?”
Miss Penriff’a drawn face had bright
eued into sudden radiance.
“It’s Henry !” said Bhe, with a start,
Dolly looked half frightened, but at
the same moment the door opened and
John Barton c une in with another
gentleman, gray and portly.
“He arrived by the four-o’clock
Train, Dolly,” said he. “And only
think—he used to know your aunt a
quarter of a century ago !”
“Henry!” faltered Miss Penriff.
“Keziah!”
To the young people, full of the
ineffable arrogance of youth, it was
the meeting of two gray, wrinkled old
people—to Henry Hartford and Ke
ziah Penriff, time had gone backward,
and they stood, radiantly happy, on
the threshold of long ago.
“Keziah, why did you not tell me
! where you were?”
‘Henry, why did you not say some
thing to let me know you eared forme
! still?”
And the next day all Bodendale was
convulsed with the nows that there
was to be a double wedding in the
place.
“As for Johny Barton and pretty
Dorothy Hall, it’s all right aud proper
enough,” said the voice of popular
opinion. “But for old people like
Miss Penriff and that fat New York
millionaire—well, no one can set lim
its to the ridiculous!”
But how was popular opinion to
know that, to all intents and purposes,
Uncle Heny and Aunt Kizzy had been
dipped in the waters of the fountain
of youth?
John and Dorothy might go to
Richmond on their wedding trip, but
was it not happiness enough for their
elders to sit side by side on the old
mahogany settle once more?—Satur
day Night.
Satisfied the Paying Teller.
A well dressed man went iuto a Main
street bank and walked up to the win¬
dow presided over by the paying teller,
says a writer in the Buffalo Express.
He handed a check to that individual
and said: “I have a check for $50
which I wish you would cash.”
The paying teller looked at the
check and then at the man. “Yctu
will have to be identified,” he said.
The well dressed man was prepared
for this. “I don’t know a soul in
Buffalo,” he said, “but I have a lot of
letters addressed to myself.” He
pulled out a package of letters and
shoved them through the window,
The paying teller examined the ad
dresses, looked at the check again,
and said: “That is not sufficient. You
will have to be personally identi¬
fied. ”
“But there isn’t a man, woman or
child in Buffalo who knows me from a
trolley car,” persisted the well dressed
man. “Here, here is my key ring.
Look at the name on that tag.”
The paying teller saw that the name
on the check and the name on the tag
were the same. “I am sorry,” he
said, “but our rules are very strict. I
can t pay this check on such an iden¬
tification. Excuse me, but y ou may
have stolen butli letters and key chain
and check.”
The well dressed man was worried.
“I’ve got to have that money,” he
said, “to get out of town with, and I
have to get out of town this after¬
noon. ” Then he desperately tore open
his vest and showed liis initials on his
shirt. “There,” he said, “do you
think I stole the shirt, too.”
» 4 May have,” answered the paying
teller, laconically.
The well dressed man was very angry.
He walked around the bank for a
while and then was struck by a sud¬
den thought. He took off his coat
and vest aud rolled up his left shirt
sleeve and the sleeve of his undershirt.
Then he stuck his bared arm through
the window and shouted: “There, you
dod-gasted chump ! Do you see those
initials tattooed there in blue ink? Do
you think I stole them, too?”
The paying teller paid the money
without another wprd.
(hieer Type ot Gratitude.
Among the free laborers who worked
almost side by side with the French
convicts at Toulon was an Italian, who
brought them extra food and addressed
them like human beings, talking of
his fwnHy, wife and home. But the
Italian s gayety suddenly left him,
and it came out that he was sorely
l' 1 ' 0880 ' tor money . One of the con
’ u> ”' " Uo tad heard this presently
j^uounced I1S 08C ®P e Ins l 0 confided intention his of plan making to
-
, e ! , . ftl ?’ aut Ruling \ h place^he 1111 to promise knew of, to
' lslt ~* im 111 a
" ei 'ey on-1 the town, -he convict
esCft P e '-^ j u ^ ue course anu the Italian
came l ° ^ im • "^ ea > tne latter s as
tomshment, the convict-said : “Now,
* £ve myself up to you. My capture
collars V\\ ] ™e ana. Y™ that the will reward-twenty Help you out of
Joni oifhculties. or a Lmgr time
1 * e Hahan stouUy re.used to take
advantage of the tugitne s seb-sacri
h ce ' bu t :u yielded and took back
. . ^ ^
t ‘ 1 ? P risouo1 - ome l ime a er ^ ar
u l ’ eofune , known , o tne ., prison
ant “ ': dies, and the punishment for
nor
esea P e was -Argonaut.
A Double Meaning.
A good story is told of a famous
English engineer. An attorney went
to him when he first began his career
to ask him an opinion as a civil engi
neer. After the opinion was given he
inquired as to the fee, and was told it
was twenty-five guineas, which he ac
cordingly paid. Some years later,
when the civil engineer had acquired
a reputation and been made a fellow
of the Royal Society, the same at
torney went up to him for an opinion,
and when he had received it said: “I
remember the last time I was here 3
asked your fee, and you said it was
twenty-five guineas, and so I have
brought a check for that amount.”
The engineer looked at him and asked
him if he knew what F. R. S. meant.
The answer was: “Why, certainly.
It means Fellow of the Royal Society.”
“Yes,” said the engineer, “and it
means also, ‘Fees Raised i$iace.’"—
Detroit Free Press
T SECRET OF STEEL
i
early stares of its conver¬
sion From iron.
t harcoal Fuel as a Former Factor
in Iron and .Steel flaking—A Clock
-Maker's Discovery — The j
Cementation Method. |
T i J"0 the question “What is
steel?" many answers have
been given. Before the dis
eovery of the Bessemer pro- j
cess it would have been defined as a
compound of iron and carbon, in
eluding from | to 2| per cent, of the
latter, which could be hardened,
softened, tempered,drawn, and welded,
Capacity of tempering and welding
still fix the advanced limit of steel,
but at the lower end of the scale it
has dropped from-! per cent, of carbon
to 1-10, thereby enormously multiply
ing its uses and applications. The
causes and processes which have i
effected this advance in metallurgy !
have recreated many of the world’s
most important industries.
In the primitive ages of metallurgy
iron and steel were made from rich
ores with charcoal fuel, and the iron
maker did not need to trouble himself
with the stubborn problems offered by
the presence of sulphur and phos
phorus. But with the exhaustion of the
rich ores which were available for use, j
and the need of substituting mineral ,
fuel for charcoal, these dangerous cue
mies came to the fore. The presence of j
sulphur, beyond a mere trace, in any
of the forms of iron destroys its weld
ing power, and renders it highly i
brittle at red heat, or, technically,
“red short.” Phosphorus causes brit¬
tleness when cold; that is, makes
iron “cold short,” and fragile at any
sudden shock. When steel ceased to
be a direct product of the forge, or to
be made in any large quantity from
pure bloomary iron, the question arose
how it could be obtained from the im¬
pure and highly carburized product of
the blast-furnace. This was answered
by the operation of refining, which
did not fully eliminate the evils that
threatened, affording but a makeshift
product for the raw material of steel.
The imperfectly cleansed bars were
then treated by the cementation meth¬
od. It was known more than two cen¬
turies ago that wrought iron enveloped
in powdered charcoal and retained at
a red heat for a long time would grad¬
ually change into steel. Until 1710
this process was used, with the further
addition of reheating the “blister
steel” so produced, and hammering it
into v^hat was known as “shear-metal,”
so called because it was first used for
sheep-shears. But the product was
wretched, and good highly texnpcrable
steel was imported from the far East
at a great cost.
A working clockmaker, Huntsman
by name, disgusted with the poor
quality of watoffsprings, set his brains
at work to find a remedy. Being- a
bright-witted man, he visited the dif¬
ferent steel works and studied the
chemistry of liis subject; and after
several years ot research he erected a
furnace, which produced steel so ex¬
cellent as to stir universal wonder,
and set Ins own feet on the highway
to wealth. But his secret was filched
by a rival, who, in the disguise of a
drunken tramp, begged shelter at his
furnace door one stormy winter night, j
The keen eyed thief discovered |
enough m what he saw and heard to !
repeat Huntsman s success. ILie best ;
steel of to-day is made by this pro- j
cess. This discovery, in the course of
a few years, reduced the price of the
highest grade of steel from $o000 to
$500 per ton. J
The cementation method of steel
making, with Huntsman’s addition,
may be briefly summarized as the
packing of wrought-iron bars in char- ( j
coal dust. They are cemented in a
fire-brick red for period chamber, of and about suffer, ten a days, dull |
a j
Removal liar condition of the known bars as shows blistered-steel, the peon- j j
so called from the swellings on the
surface, which are caused by the oc- j
elusion of carbonic oxide. The metal
is hard and brittle, and breaks easily j
with a hammer tap. T4ie following i
stage is that discovered, or, more j
properly, revived, by Huntsman, for
it was essentially in use in the East j
from packed early in crucibles days. Broken of from pieces sixty are j
to !
eighty pounds’ capacity, with certain
proportions of black oxide of manga- j
nese. The crucibles are made of re
fractory clay, graphite, and old pots
pounded to a dust, and their manu
facture is now an important industry
in itself. The pots are arranged in pairs
in furnaces, the openings of which j
are level with the floor of the cast
ing-house, while each furnace has a
separate flue fed by powerful forced
draught. When the steel Is thoroughly
melted, the pots are withdrawn from
the furnace, and their contents emp
tied into moulds. lhe lifting of tne
crucibles is a picturesque sight. The
workmen are swathed iu masses of
woolen rags saturated with water from j
head to foot, with wet sponges held in
the teeth and masking the nostrils.
As they grapple the incandescent pots
they are enveloped iu yy-alls of white j
flame, which shoot from the furnace
twenty feet in height in enormous vol
ume. The rapidity of the operation
insures safety to the workmen.
The case-hardening of wrought iron
f which is merely a transformation of
the surface into steel) depends on a
law allied to that of cementation, lhe
iron is heated in charcoal, or some
organic matter like leather, for a
brief period, thus receiving a surface
charge of carbon. The Harvey process
for hardening a superficial depth of a
mild steel armor-plate, of which lhe
world has heard much during the last
two years, is based on a closely anal
ogous principle.—Harper's Magazine,
The Telltale Ear.
Generallv speaking we say that a
larg really ear denotes generosity, but if it
indicates anything it is the poor
blood or debased character of the pos
sessor. An English writer who for
j the last fifteen years has been a close
) student of criminal anthropology says
j that “large, voluminous ears are the
j naost marked characteristics of the Je
based criminal.”—St. Louis Republic.
The Sierra Nevada range of C'a* -
tornia is nearly 500 miles long, seventy
• wide, and from 7000 to nearly 15^00 *
feet high.
Tissue-Like Iron.
One of the iron manufacturers *f
Swansea; Wales, succeeded in making
a sheet of iron so thm that it required
at least 1800 sheets to make on > inc’u
iu thickness. Tissue paper isl-l20"th
<ei inch thiol., while thi>> shoe,
°»ly 1-1800th of an inch in thickness.
It measured 10 inches by 5 inch. -,
ftutl weighed but 20 grains, Winin
fact, a sort of iron “gossamer.” Many
years ago there was sent to Engl an 1
from Pittsburg, in the United States,
a letter written on ^ sheet ms le from
iron, 1000 of which laid on each
other only made one inch in thick
ness: the dimensions being 8 inches,
by 5- inches, and Weighing CO grains,
Since then Wales surpassed America,
Staffordshire surpassed Wales, and
then once more Wales took the lead,
and at length Swansea carried off the
palm by making the sheet of iron first
described of the finest appearance and
the thinnest that lias yetj>ccu seen In¬
mortal eyes. Visiting cards of thin
iron have been made by a Belgian
manufacturer, TOO to the inch; by
Count Harracli, CTO to the inch J by
Baron Krnpp, 820 to the inch, and by
Count Renard, 1000 to the inch. Iron
shavings can be cut of an immense
length. W. E. Donellv produced one
108 feet long, and Mr. Birsching ex¬
habited one i 10 feet in length. Worth’s
Museum, in New York, contained one
175 feet long, and the Brush Electric
Company at Cleveland turned out one
measuring 237 feet, which hung on
the walls of the company’s works un
broken for eight years. But even this
record is said to have been since
beaten by a steel shaving 263 feet
long, produced by a Now York steel
firm.—Yankee Blade,
Diet lor Thin People.
, A good many recipes are given to
help fat people grow thin. Airs.
Borer, iu a recent issue of Household
News, thus answered a correspondent
who desired her to give a diet for thin
people to gain flesh, especially one
who lias the common complaint of in¬
testinal dyspepsia:
Now, in the first place, you cannot
accumulate fat unless you get rid of
the intestinal indigestion. It makes
very little difference how much food,
or of what quality one takes, if they
cannot digest or assimilate it. First,
then, git rid of your indigestion. It
you will live, for a certain time on
such foods as are digested in the stom¬
ach, and give the intestines a rest,
you will no doubt be permanently
cured. Then attend to putting flesh
on your bones, but under no other
circumstances can you find the desired
benefit. A diet of lean beef that has
been finely chopped and robbed of
the connective tissues, made into fiat
cakes, lightly broiled and seasoned;
and, if you wish, a tiny piece of well
toasted whole-wheat bread, with a
cup of hot water, if persisted in for
two or three months will effect a cure.
After that you may come back gradu¬
ally to carbonaceous foods. Remem¬
ber that the fats are more easily con¬
verted into fat than the sugars and
starches; and all starchy foods must
be will cooked. The light lunch at
noon would be decidedly better, and
then take your 6 o’cloek dinner.
After dinner, rest, that you may have
plenty of time to digest and assimi
late.”
Large Sailing Ships.
The largest sailing ship afloat, is tin
French five-master La France,
launched in 1890 on the Clyde, and
owned by Messrs. Ant Dom Bordes et
Fils, who possess a large fleet of sail
j r¥ ,- vessels, In 1891 she came from
Iquique to Dunkirk in 105 days, with
6000 tons of nitrate, yet she was
stopped on the Tyne when proceeding
to sea with 5500 tons of coal and corn
polled to take out 500 tons on the
&roU nd that she was overladen,
There is not a single five-masted
filing ship under the British flag,
The United States lias two five-masters,
the Louis, of 830 tons, and the Cover
nor Ames, of 1778 tons, both fore and
a ft schooners, a rig peculiar to the
American coast. Ships having five
mas ts can be counted on the fingers of
onfe hand, but, strange Shaw,“SaviU to sav, the
steamship Coptic,* of the
& Albion Company, ’ on her way to
New Zealand, in December, 1890,
pa c Se d the Governor Ames, bound for
California, and two days later the
French five-master La France, bound
south.
Passengers and crew of the Coptic
might travel over many a weary league
of sea an q neve r again see two such
excellent object lessons in the growth
0 f sailing ships in quick succession,
The largest three-masted sailing ship
is the Ditton, of 2850 tons. — Cham
bers’s Journal,
The Capital ot Wisconsin.
Four Lakes was Madison’s original
name. That was sixty years and
more. In 1836 there was a struggle of
much fierceness over the location of
the Territorial capital among the cities
ambitious to be known as such, these
being Milwaukee, Green Bay, ‘a Prairie
du Chieu, Janesville and dozen
more. Governor Doty started from
Green Bay on horseback, accompanied
by a surveyor. The Territorial Gov
ernor was provided with a green
blanket and a shotgun, the surveyor
with a chain and compass. In eight
days they reached wliat Was then called
Four Lakes, and the Governor had the
surveyor make a plat of the place,
whose sole occupant was the owner of
a log cabin. He named the place
Madison, in honor of the President of
that name, proceeded on to Belmont,
where tim Legislature was in session,
and entered the future city of Madison
as a candidate for capital honors. To
the astonishment of competing cities,
Madison was chosen, It was claimed
at the time that when the Legislature
adjourned nearly every member of
that body carried home with him the
deed to a corner lot in the new town.
—Milwaukee (Wis.) Sentinel.
MhIIuui in Par vo.
A patent has bean applied for to
cover the invention that is a eombina
tion of churn, butter worker and re
frigerator. It churm, tempers the
cream to any desired degree while in
operation, or holds it uniform regard
i* * outside temperature, separates
the buttermilk from the granulated
butter without removing the butter
irora the churn or washing it., salts it
without removal, and finally weeks
bra it r'shi in the churn.-
New iTrk World.
CHEESE MAKING.
now 1111 ^ FOOD PRODUCT IS
M.VDF, ABROAD,
Processes by Which lhe Foreign Ar¬
ticle Bets the Quality tJourmets
Relish so Much — Roquefort
Cheese Ripened in Caves.
'T~ N England the Cheddar, the (Ties
I shire and the celebrated Stilton
cheese, says the New York "World,
, nre made by processes which are
comparatively well known. In a great
moasure their quality depends upon
the care with which they are aged,
Among European cheeses, which with
in a couple of decades in this country j
have superseded those of England iu
popularity, there is a certain mystery
in the processes by which they are
manufactured. In the soft cheeses
the product, of the New Jersey farm :
may really be said to fairly compete
with those of Europe. But these imi
tations have their restrictions. For
instance, these worthy imitators of a
delicacy so popular have either vainly
or not at all attempted to reproduce
the famous Roquefort. j
This cheese is probably one of the
oldest known, it is certainly one of
the oldest mentioned in any written
book. Pliny mentions it in one ofhis j
works, and Rabelais when he wrote
the phrase that has since become so :
commonplace, “that the moon likely is made j
of green cheese,” is more to j
have had in mind tlio green-streaked ;
Roquefort than the green sago cheese
of England of the time of Shakespeare,
* The making of Roquefort cheese is
something of a romance. The village
from which it takes its name is situ- 1
ated high, in precipitous a deep, narrow walls of gorge, limestone with |
rock. This cheese is made from the
milk "of the black goat, which has a
fertile pasturage of ten or twelve
leagues in the valley below.
This milk is heated almost to boiling
and set aside. In the morning it is
skimmed, heated to niuety-eight de
grees and mingled with the morning’s
milk for coagulation. When the curd
lias been divided with a clean wooden
paddle and the whey drawn off it is
well kneeded by the hands of the
pretty mountain maidens and pressed
in layers into moulds with perforated
bottoms. Usually a thin layer of
mouldy bread is placed between the
layers of curd, the object being to
hasten the ripening by supplying the
green mould peculiar to this cheese.
This bread is always made the week
before Christmas, of equal parts of
summer and winter barley, with con¬
siderable sour dough and a little vine¬
gar. The mouldiness which this pro¬
duces is not sufficiently apparent for
the taste of the high-classed connois
sieur, unless the cheese is kept for
three months and its action hastened
by warmth. Whcn it strikes the
peasant that it is mouldy enough the
cheese is ground, sifted, moistened
with water and kept from contact with
the air.
In the caves and fissures in the walls
of the town, and in vaults rudely con¬
structed in these fissures, the ripen¬
ing of the Roquefort cheese is carried
on by the cold currents of air which
whistle through them all the year
round. Those vaults which have cur
rents flowing from south to north are
believed to yield the best cliecse.
The proprietor of these caves keeps
the cheeses sometimes for several
years, The cheeses when brought in j
are classified according to their merit. !
Balt is sprinkled over them, and they
are piled one on another for two or
three days. Then they are.' taken
down, the accumulated salt carefully
rubbed in and then they are piled up
again and left for a week. They are
scraped and pared, pricked through
and through with needles driven by
machinery in order to accelerate the ;
gathering of the green mould in the
interior, and after this are. left in :
piles again for fifteen days, till they
become dry aud firm in texture and
their interiors begin to be covered
with mould.
Another foreign cheese wliicn , .
is a
favorite here is the small, round
Dutch cheese known as the L iam. Io
is called after a small and flourishing
town of that name, located not far
from Amsterdam. It looks >ery
much like a small red cannon ball, and
there is a story that when, during the
siege of one of tne cities of Lolland,
the real cannon balls gave out, these
cheeses were used to supply the guns.
Another favorite, which is found in
every French restaurant m this city,
but is not nearly so well known ns it,
deserves to be in American restau
rants, is the Gruyere. -his takes i*a
name from Switzerland, where it is
supposed to have originated, but as a
matter of fact it is now made largely
in Germany, in I ranee and iu Ne>\
Jersey. AV hat is ended the
Gruyere is mostly made in little huts
sometimes called chalets—high up m
the Alps at the time of the year when
the pastures on the mountain sides are
accessi de and these little lints liilia j
itable.
The milk is put into a great kettle
and swung over a gentle tire, where
it obtains a temperature of seventy
seven degrees. Then the rennet is
added ; when the coagulation has ad¬
vanced far enough the curd is cut in
to very fine pieces. Then it is rubbed
and sifted through the lingers into the
kettle again, and submitted to a tem
peratureof ninety degrees. It is then
strained from the whey and collected
in a cloth. Balt is rubbed in carefully
from time to time on the outside.
One of the stories told of the com
moner Bwiss cheeses of tills kind is
that of a tourist not well supplied
with cash, who was walking- through
the Alps. He called at an inn and de
manded a cheese sandwich and a glass
of milk. AY hat he obtained in rc
spouse to his order was two slices of
buttered bread and a glass of milk.
“But where is the cheese?" ho said
to the waiter.
“Well, I don’t know,” replied the
Swiss shrugging his shoulders, “but,
you see, sir, our cheese was remark
ably fine this year and full of large
holes: perhaps you got one of the
holes.”
South Carolina farm products ex
teed $50,000,000 in value annually,
$14,000,000 being cotton. About Tv* -
<>00,000 pounds of rice are r.iis .. i
Gold is mined ia p tying quantities a
b'xty places in the Btate.
5T
Hetiiie infants* 4
Parisian physicians were interested;
a few years ago, iri the Case of a boy
fifteen years <>f a ge, who exhibited iili
the mental aud physical signs of a
feeble man of sixty. His face Was
wrinkled, liis hair thin, falling out and
turning gray, liis eyes were watery and
liis body shrunken and emaciated ns in
extreme old age. Mentally he exhib¬
ited the timidity of an old man; was
deliberate iu his speech and averse to
making any venture that might be sug
gested to him, unless its wisdom and
feasibility were fully demonstrated.
He was given entirely to a serious view
of j^fe, instead of exhibiting the rol
licking carelessness of consequences
that usually distinguishes a well-notir
ished, healthy boy under twenty. At
the ago of t welve he is said to have
shown no unusual peculiarities. Ho
indulged in the usual games and pas
times eommou to boys of liis years, and
had never suffered any illness beyond
the usual infantile complaints. When
he came to be fourteen he began to
fail in physical activity and energy,
liis mind appeared to mature boyish very
rapidly and he abandoned nil
games mid devoted himself, without
any coercion, to study. His progress
was rapid and his powers of judgment ]
developed to an astonishing degree,
Physiologists were unable to account
for the abnormally rapid development
and doctors were unable t<> arrest it.
The boy died at the age of sixteen, a
worn-out old man.
A case strikingly similar exists iu
Brooklyn to-day, although in this iu
stance the boy is but ten years old.
He has a queer little weazened face, a
bald head, and his forehead is seame d
with many wrinkles. He is stooped in
the shoulders and sprung in the knees,
The most peculiar characteristic is his
voice, which is not the treble of child
hood, but the thin piping of the aged,
Precocity is marked, and his faculty
of perception is unusually keen,
Like the French boy, lie does not
care for childish games, tint devotes
nearly all liis time to reading. Ho i*
extremely sensitive, understanding, as
he does, liis peculiar condition, and
his parents, eminently respectable
people, are careful that lie shall not be
annoyed by the curious and inquisi
tive. They have received one explan
ation of their child’s unnatural aging,
which, briefly, is that the construction
of his lungs is such that the air cells
absorb an excess of oxygen, so that ho
is too rapidly burning up his vitality
and tissue. It is possible that the iu
teresting little patieut may eventually
reach a New York hospital.—New York
News,
The Age oi Animals.
A butterfly lives only a few weeks, h
crow may live more than a century
and swans are said to live sometimes
over three hundred years. An emi¬
nent naturalist tells of a falcon that
that was 102 years old. A white
headed vulture, caught in 1706, died
in 1826 in the aviary of the palace of
Schonbruuu, near Vienna, where it
had been in captivity 118 years.
Again, parrots and ravens think
nothing of tumbling about the world
for a hundred years or more, and some
of the sea-birds and water fowl out
live several generations of human be
ings. To come down to some well
known birds, the ordinary cock lives
from twenty to twenty-five years, and
a pigeon lives for about ten. A night
ingale may live ten years in captivity
and a thrush fifteen, but when free
they live much longer.
Of quadrupeds the elephant lives
much longer than any of his friends
and brethren. He may reach the ago
of 400 years. And, you will think, lie
looks as if he-was made to last a loug
time. A camel is old at forty, a horse
or a bull at twenty-live, a lion and a
bear at twenty. As for the whale, it
disports itself in the sea for some 30 )
years, and no tortoise is considered to
have attained a ripe old age before it
reaches ninety years.—New York
Journal,
A 11 oval Train.
A new imperial train for the Czar ot
Russia is at present being built at the
Alexandrowski Wagon Manufactory at
<-q Petersburg. It consists of eleven
carriages, of which one is reserved for
t/) 10 railway officials, a kitchen cai
r j a g 0 flU( \ two luggage vans, AVdli
the exception of wheels and the axles,
w jjicii have been supplied by Krupp,
, a |. jjsseu, the whole of the material i j
0 f Russian origin and manufacture,
jjj means of a very powerful auto¬
ma tic brake the train can be brought
to a standstill in a minimum of time
; f rom every one of the carriages, Tho
interior of the carriages is appointed
i wit!l m tu;h taste. The windows are
j rliftbrent ou both sides; the side with
_ the corridor liai windows of a uniform
) H j zei w hile the windows on the other
j 8 j,| e are made in accordance with the
requirements of the various eompart
; ments. The pas-sag.'-j between the vari
| oug Cttra are vestibule 1.
The CHrr j age of the Czar and Czai
ina is coimectod fii^tlv with the
: ( |j nin g ror m ; then conies the large
,
sa j oou car, the carriages of the grain
dukes, etc. The carriages will be sen'
on a trial trip to Copeuh igan ; some
• of them have already been sent 1 1
| Vienna and back.—Railway Review,
' Syerl oi 1h- KurthL Journey.
The earth does not travel at the
same rate all through its journey. Its
orbit being elliptical, it must at some
time approach nearer to the sun than
at others, and will take less time iu
moving through one part of iti path
than through another. Iu winter tho
earth is nearer the sun than in sum
mer and moves through space more
rapidly. On January 1 the earth is
about 3,0X>,0 >) miles nearer the sun
than it is on July 1, and, as the veloc
ity of a planet increases with its near
ness to the sun, the earth passes over
one-half of its orbit in less time than
over the other half. Bat.veen the ver
nil equinox, which happens on March
21, and the autumnal equinox, which
fails on September 23, the earth is 18 J
days iu accomplishing that half of her
journey round the sua, while the other
half occupies only 179 day ;. It has
been said that, owing to the friction
| caused by the tides and other reasons,
the earth is moving more slowly than
it used to do, and that the days aro
consequently length :miug ; but as this
in only to the extent of half a ssera 1
iu a century, ii will b> a ] »n » ti'-n •.
before there will ho any apparent dif
i-iencc.—Brooklyn Eagle