Newspaper Page Text
Cross-Tie Tom.
A TALE OF TWO TRASH'S.
BT BRIDGES SMITH.
CHAPTER II.
Curious place is the press-room of one of our
large city dailies. Deep into the ground, know
ing no light but gaslight; filled with ponder
ous presses that clank and clang like so many
giants in coats of mail; the smoke and gloom;
and the box-like recesses where news-boys and
folder-boys sleep their few hours—all make up
a scene fit for Hogarth’s pencil or Dickens’ pen.
It is here that the news-boys recount their ad
ventures, their fights and escapades. Where
they speak in their own vernacular, and where
they live and breathe and have their being.
It was a cold night in October 18—, when the
cold had driven them in from the street sooner
than their usual hour for returning. They were
discussing the merits and demerits of a new ac
quisition to their ranks. Nearly all of them
were smoking. Some with pipes, some with old
cigar stumps, while the more high-toned smok
ed dainty cigarettes made of brown papei and
smoking tobacco. Said one:
•That ther fresh cully’s got ter be ’nishiated.
We haint er g«fine ter ’low am’shoors ter slip in
’thout reg’lar peroeedins.’
‘Who’s ther new galoot anyhow, and whar
did hefotch up at?’ .
•He’s the bilikin that old Cross-tie Tom bridg
ed here. Old Tom 6ed that he was a trampin’ it
down ther on the trunk line, an’ it were agrow
ing cold as git out, an’ all ter once he seed
somebody ljin’ down on the railroad track, aD
it was this yer new rooster. Old Tom he pick
ed him up, and when ther train come ’long he
told ther conductor ’bout it an both got er free
ride. Old Tom sez he\his boy now,an’ sez he
wants ter see him git along.’ ,
•Well, boys, let’s don’t nishiate him, cordin
ter that.’ ,, , , , ,
t l* and ft chorus of black-faced boys
who had hearts in them, settled that Horace, for
he was the subject of their confab, should not
undergo the ridiculous and painful humiliation
of initiation into their fraternity.
Yes. old Cross-tie Tom was making his way
from L to It one day and came across
the bruised and benummed outcast. His heart
warmed at the sight, and from that day Horace
found a friend in Cross-tie Tom.
Selling newspapers in a large city is no easy
thing for a new beginner, and the novice has a
mountain to climb before he can make even a
few cents. But with Horace the case was dif
ferent. His form and features, his intelligent
eyes, and his general bearing made him scores
of customers. For a year he sold papers and
during that time saved up a snug sum. His
night time was employed in study. The usual
adventures of the boys had no charm for him,
and there in the smoky press-room he mastered,
unaided, an education that at once placed him
far beyond most boys of his age even with the
advantages o» school and teacher,
stood together watching the lengthening shad
ows form and grow darker.
‘Were yon ever in love, Alice?’
What a question !
•Were you ever?’
What an answer!
‘ Yes ; deeply, madly, and yet bound by fear—
lips commanded not to speak, heart forbidden
to hope, and—’
‘ But why ?’
‘Because you are the daughter of my em
ployer.’
‘It was wicked for you to love me.’
‘ Very wicked ?’
‘No ; not very wicked ; but why didn't you
love some one else ?’
‘ Then you don‘t love me—’
‘I didn’t say so.’
‘But you don’t, do you ?’
‘Just a little bit.’
And then she coyly looked up into his face
and said—
‘Yes, Horace, I am yours until death do us
part.’
Miss Clayton, old maid, was a vinegary sort
of woman, and when she set her heart on any
thing she imagined that even the rock of Gib
raltar could offer no obstruction. She made up
her mind in the outset that Alice should not
wed ‘that printer,’ and she determined to keep
up that determination at all hazards. And
when she saw how happy Alice was, _ and how
she skipped from room to room, singing as
blithely as a lark, she knew the proposal had
been made and that it was satisfactory to both
parties. Then she began her operations for the
future. To prevent the marriage was now her
highest aim. So, one day when Mr. Clayton
awoke from his accustomed after-dinner nap,
she went to him and related what she believed
to be the relation existing between his daughter
Alice and his confidential clerk, Horace. Then
she gave her reasons for opposing the union,
and it must be said she held up the future hus
band of the niece in no very pleasing light,
and otherwise throwing celd water on a mar
riage she considered disgraceful to the house of
Clayton. The old gentleman listened attentive
ly to all she had to say on the subject, and
then dismissed her with the crushing shot that
nothing on earth could give him more happi
ness than that very same marriage.
Miss Clayton now inwardly determined that,
having failed in ore way, she would try in an
other, and before morning she had concocted a
scheme, which if carried out, would result very
satisfactorily to her. In the meantime the lov
ers enjoyed life as only lovers can, and that,
too, with the smiling approval of the head of
the house.
The engagement was noised about in the city,
and Alice’s list of admirers and suitors grew
small. Only one ventured to continue his vis-
ists, and that was John Blanton. You have
seen these men who look as if they spent all
their time in tricking and scheming, men who
talk but little and seem to think all the while.
Such a man was John Blanton. He set about
winning Alice with the same coolness, and in the
same business way that he would to creates
corner in stocks. He wanted her and had his
mind fully made up to have her.
When he called and found the object of his
-- -—--- - - *v,« ) passion not at home, he found Miss Clayton
Attracting the attention othen»?*g er £ the . Lx ions to entertain him. Not that Miss Clay ton
fice, he was placed in the composing; room of, ^ ^ ^ for the bache]or broker , but
e newspaper, and made rapid headway as a beoange in John ^ Blanton she bad an ally, ready
rrect printer. ,. • , and willing to further any scheme tending to the
Cross-tie lorn often came in from his aimless 0 ° engttg ement of Alice and
anderings, and it was with a pardonable pride B
hat he watched the boy’s progress. There was
close bond between ward and self-appointed
lardian that grew stronger with time. True,
orn’s manner of living,his drinkings and other
nits were distasteful to Horace, and he prayed
any times that his friend would turn in his
ays; but he kept his own counsel and never
.id aught against them. His own history was
sealed book which he never opened not even
r old Tom’s edification. •' 'was
rur k bio whis-Ky, and When the money was
me went out into the world on another tramp.
The manager of the Leader office was a spruce
d gentleman who had an eccentric way oi
s o*n for doing things- He was a large stock-
nlder in the paper, and had held his position
r twenty years. His home was failed wit
orksofart, and furnished with everything
nding to comfort and elegance. He had one
Mid. and upon her he showered the entire
ealth of his.affection, for Mrs. Clay ton had
een in the grave for fifteen years. Alice was
dually as fond of her father Without being
poiled, she grew up from infancy without a
pother’s care, and blossomed into a lovely be-
possessing every trait and virtue of the
rue woman. Her only female adviser was Miss
Eton a maiden sister of her father’s, who,
pon the death of the mother, assumed the
are of the little child.
One day at dinner, Alice was considerab y
Rtonished wben lier f&tiier Bftid.
•There’s a young printer at the office, in
rhorn I am much interested. He was brought
0 the office six years ago by that old tramp,
3ross-tie Tom, and commenced selling papers.
took a fancy to him, and put him in the office,
nd he has just completed his trade. IVhen
’ tell you that of all the young men I ever saw,
ie is the best in any way you want to place him,
rou need not be astonished at my intention to
five him a home in this bouse. Should he fall
n love with you, my dear Alice, and you recip
rocate that love, I would rather see him your
ausband than tho wealthiest of your suitors,
tlowever, I do not bring him here for that pur
pose. It is because I want to give him a home
ind the position in society he so well deserves.
[ shall speak to him of my plan this evening,
ind I have no doubt he will accede to my wish
es in this respect as he has ever done mothers.
Alice was pleased and pained at this new
freak of her father’s. It would give her a broth
er and vet it might take away too much of her
father's ffive for 8 her. She studied the matter
well, and at last conquering the jealousy, pre
pared to give the new-comer a cordial and sis
terly welcome. As for the aunt, she snapped
heroes and inwardly resolved that the daugh
ter of her brother should never wed a common
W °Horace was puzzled to know what Mr. Clay
ton could want with him in his private office.
1 He was delighted beyond measure an hour latei
to know that he was to hrve a home, and what
was bettor, the position of confidential clerk.
That night Horace was installed as one of the
members of Mr. Clayton’s family. . He .. th ? ug ^
Alice an aDgel, and Alice thought him the hand
somest and noblest man in the world. The
dreams that night of those young people were
dreams iua k dreamed of each other, and
ffiSAS* of bappio... in .11
tb The d d r ay“faowsped fast. If Mr. Clayton’s lux
tame was happy before the entrance of
urious borne The onager grew
“"""id more .Uiched to hi. clerk, «od so did
be^fttoly ^tro^g’ed^hiiiidehis
As for Fear of incurring thedispleas-
.nd fear of not being cared
ore of bis empny * kept b j m a t bay. Nowand
for only as a brother k P iteelf to
tb „ •«■?? ““; g bSt a., iori.™. held b«k.
decla'eh’.io ’ Jgj^ of lWng , u«i! He
52 SnlJ hiSu*. and dr. only an adthly an-
'll and in the twilight They
It was somewhat embarrassing, tfaough, for
Miss Clayton to broach the delicate subject to
Mr. Blanton. It reauired some courage, and it
cost her a severe pang to plot against the hap
piness of her brother's only child. But she had
marked out her coarse in the matter, and had
now gone too far to retrace her steps. She cien-
tioned her plans to Blanton and that_inuiyjdj3f(l
was*to destroy the good name and character of
Horace so as to have him condemned by Mr.
Clayton. Wicked as this course may seem, these
two plotters adopted it unanimously, and at
once arranged on the details of the black t>u
D< Mr Clayton made it a rule to be in bis office
at'eleven o’clock every morning. If persons
called to see him before that hour they were in
formed that the manager would be there exact
ly at eleven. Hence there was always some one
waiting for his coming; but no matter how im
portant their mission, they were forced to wait
until the old gentleman went through the time-
honored custom of looking about the room to
see if the sweep-boy had performed his duties
well, and then arranging the letters and papers
on his desk so that he could get at them without
ge Abouuf month after Alice and Horace had de
clared their love, Mr. Clayton found a seedy in
dividual with a very important air awaiting
him. Usually he paid but little attention to
the people who came to see him, but this seedy
individual rather interested him ; and, strange
to sav he omitted the examination of tfae
sweep-boy’s work, and beckoned to the impor-
tant mdividual to be seated. That worthy at
once placed a chair alongside of him, then
hemmed and hawed as if he was about to di
vulge the greatest of secrets.
‘My name is Jackson, and I am from Canada.
I learn that you have in your employ a young
man by the name of Huntingdon. Now, I
am fully aware of the fact that yon are greatly
attached to the young man, and hence beg of
you to be prepared for a disclosure somewhat
Clayton, 'if y.t»
business with me is to bring information dam
aging that young man’s character, the interview
* 8 ‘I knew you would be astonished,’ coolly re
marked the man, * but I have the proofs—the
Something in the man’s manner seemed to
convince Mr. Clayton that possibly he might
have information that would be ot use to him,
Horace was occupying a very important
position in his business, and was soon to oc
cupy a still higher one in his family. He,
therefore, told the man to proceed.
Now 1 have no further interest in this matter
than to warn you against taking steps that
might lead to disastrous consequences. I have
proof that Horace Huntingdon spends nearly
all he makes honestly, and perhaps more that
he makes in other ways, upon a woman who
lives in B . He makes her remittances every
weekly pay day, and once a month he goes to
see her. To prove this, follow my instructions.
On your pay-day, watch the office boy whom he
entrusts with the sending of this money, and
day, come to me with the letter that you register.’
The boy valued his place too highly to diso
bey, and when the day came around he carried
the letter to the manager. Ever since the arri
val of the seedy man, Mr. Clayton had lived a
different life. He had studiously avoided any
mention of the affair to any one, resolved upon
obtaining facts before taking any steps in the
matter. And when the letter was brought to
him the wicked thought came into his head,
that, under the circumstances, he would be jus
tifiable in reading it. Was fiot his daughter’s
happiness at stake ! These and a thousand oth
er reasons came pouring down upon .him, and
turning the key in the door, he opened the let
ter and read as follows:
“Dear Laura—I can only send you a few dol
lars this week, which I trust will meet yonr
wants. You know I am to be married soon, but
as that event will not interfere with our rela
tion, I will continue to do iuy duty by you.
Yours as ever, H. H.”
Mr. Clayton bowed his head on his desk, and
there were tears in his eye. Here was actual
proof of Horace’s guilt, and now his duty was
plain. With a pain tugging at his heart he
wrote.
‘Mr. Huntingdon: For reasons satisfactory
and best known to myself, you are from the
reading of this letter, no longer in my employ,
and, furthermore, the relationship existing be
tween yourself and my daughter is at end. You
need not trouble yourself to offer any plea in
extenuation of yonr conduct,as it will not for a
moment be entertained, and I cl it not desire to
look upon your face again. J. Clayton.’
Puzzled and mortified Horace read and re
read the note. It was plain and needed no in
terpretation. He sent for his trunk and was
once more on the world.
Miss Clayton received the news with ill-con
cealed gratification. Alice, on the other hand,
was grief-stricken, although she knew that her
father would not have taken the step had he
not been in possession of the proof, yet there
was a something that told her that her lover was
innocent. She obeyed her father in the com
mand to mention his name no more, but all the
proof in the whole world could not have lessen
ed the love she bore Horace Huntingdon. Guil
ty or not guilty, he held her heart then and for
ever.
I was very busy the next day, owing to a sud
den rush of work, so I called up the veteran to
help me out. Ho was still firm in the belief
that his boy would come along after awhile,
and during the morning his tongue never
ceased in recounting the wonderful and fearful
risks they had run in stealing rides on trains.
In the midst of one of his yarns, we heard a
quick step on the stairs, and the old man
dropped his stick with the exclamation, ‘that s
him now !’ and rushed to meety him. bare
enough, it was the boy.
In all my time, I never looked upon a finer
specimen of humanity. Tall, broad-shouldered,
full chested, perfectly moulded, with a face fit
for the frame of Adonis, he was the true model
of the perfect man. The old man had spoken
the truth so far as the physique of his pard was
concerned, and my romance began to assume a
reality. The veteran, whom we had discovered
to be no other than the famous Cross-Tie Tom,
brought the tramping Adonis and introduced
him with as much formality as if he had been
the Prince of Wales. I gave him work and we
formed a curious trio—the two strange tramps
and myself, deeply interested and not knowing
why.
Huntingdon proved himself to be a first-class
workman. He was correct, swift, and could set
Hebrew, Latin, or French quotations as easily
as English. By tacit conseut, I had so placed
the tramps that they could work on the same
stand, and thus converse together without my
interference and presence. Theyr-geve the de
tails of each other’s trips—laugiV-V at each
iv , '«s r ii»PV> r 8« f n-^y na'ci Plenty of money and
were not roaming vagabonds. \
When I went home I told wife Oi. .he g.a<-ta
rival. She was delighted. And it seemed as
though we—wife and I—were happier. NV hy .
That was the puzzle.
Being a gloomy day, darkness came long be
fore time to quit work, aud we gathered around
^Lookhere, boys,’ said I, ‘there’s something
strange in the fact that Huntingdon heie
should be on the tramp. He is a number one
printer, and Tom tells me he does not —
Now, satisfy my curiosity enough to tell me
Wb H is true that there is no necessity for lead
ing such a life. My history is a sad ° n *’ a T nd -u
do not care to relate it; but this much of it I wi
tell vou, aud it will give you at least one reason
why I am a tramp. I was at one time m a po
sition of trust and honor. I was discharged tor
some unknown cause, and finding rnywlt sud-
dently without friends, I concluded that the
onlv wav in which I could remove certain thin 0 s
from mv mind was to take up the let of a tramp,
and thus by privations, hardships and chang
ing scenes,free myself from memorie s painful in
one scense and pleasant in another. Having
lost that which was the capstone to mj ambi
tion, I have no high aim, and if by being the
companion of this gentleman who at one time
rendered me the greatest service in my life, i
could afford at least one person any pleasure or
service, I am content with my lot, however de
graded it may appear to those better oil.
Given so earnestly, I accepted the reason, and
from that time treated my friends as well-bred
gentlemen who were accidentally unfortunate.
Work improving, I found it necessary to keep
the printers on, and every day my interest m
them increased. Other tramps came in, but they
did not tarry. There was one, however, who
seemed to hang on as if too tired to risk his legs
anv further. He formed an acquaintance with
my hands, and they invited him to sleep on the
office floor with them. . .
Payday came, and Tom took in his usual allow
ance of whisky. The new tramp came in for a
share of Tom's liquor, and became exceedingly
loquacious. Huntingdon!, who appealed as i
lavished to avoid Tom when drunk vfent out
for a walk, and while he was gone, I to* a seat
after work hours, and listened to the two drun-
r»en printers. Sftid tlie newest.
8 °Y P ou see, old pard, a fellow does a good many
mean things for money, wont he ? s
‘ Of cousre, of coufc'se. ‘
‘Well vou see, I done a job once for a fifty
dollar note that busted things up c0 ““ lde ^ 1 ?’
and pledge you my word. I‘ve been sorry tor it
ever since ! Now, I‘ll tell you what it was, but
I want you to promise me one thing—will you
do it ?’
n r :“,i j “ d panrait of tbeir fugitive
to be a fact to this day.
Tom took this valuable information as a man
takes liquor.
is valuable information as a man “““ uer iar irorn nome, iney
The more he takes the better he S* 601 rath f r th “ retnrn
7 -- to the old one. The queens lay all the eggs,
then the nurse-ants have the care of the eggs
7 them nnt in unn
feels. He was fceside himself with joy. And
yet he was in doubt whether to tell Hunting- ™ ^“them in eggS ,
don or to reserve it and work up a grand sur- SdtakettJS Wk^ in ^VP 81 ^
pri». But Tom loved his pet too well^to keep
from him a secret of so much importance. And
when the young man came in, the story was
told just as the tramp had given it.
Of course any man feels happy at the vindi
cation of his wrongs; but Horaoe seemed reluc
tant to give the new information to Mr. Clay
ton. Four years had flown since he left his
roof, and all through that time Alice wasas dear
to him as if there had been no barrier to their
love. Tom persuaded him, however, to write
and explain the matter but without expressing
any desire to return. Accordingly when I left
the office that night Horace was writing a letter
that was to make more than one heart glad.
When I went home of course I had to tell of
the new discovery.
‘What is the name of the young tramp ? in
quired my wife when I had finished.
‘Horace Huntingdon.’
With a scream my wife fell, fainting, to the
floor. When brought to herself, she told me
that Horace was her brother !
‘Great goodness!’ thought I, ‘how much of a
romance are we making of those tramps.
Yes, the war came on and all the wealth and
fine property of Colonel Huntingdon was lost.
Reduced to almost poverty, the cruel pride took
a lofty tumble, and he moaned for his son as
Jacob moaned the loss of Joseph. The fami
ly moved into another state and began life anew.
I had married Julia, and the boys had gone to
work to retrieve their father^ lost fortune.
They had long since given up Horace as dead,
and moaned for him as such.
At this intelligence I went to the office, and
finding Tom asleep, invited Horace to supper
with me. Of course he refused on account of
his dilapidated wardrobe, but I pressed him so
hard that he finally consented.
It was a joyous meeting between brother and
sister. So much to tell of, so mujh to regret—
they talked until midnight. I gave my new
found brother-in-law a room, and in the morn
ing provided him with my best clothes. Then
he renounced tramping and became himself
again.
In a few days he showed me these three letters.
My Dear Son: Your forgiveness is all I could
ask. I am veFy happy. Come let us fold you
to our hearts. T. Huntingdon.
My Dear Horace : Yours of the 10th to hand.
I cannot^expect, nor even hope for your forgive
ness; but I long to see you here not in your
old position but as manager. I am too old to
attend to the duties, and there is but one man
under the sun whom I will resign in tavor of
and that man is you. Alice writes with this.
She never for a moment considered you guilty.
J. Clayton.
My Dear Horace: Your sweet letter cam
safely with its burden of joyful news. I n re
ply to your inquiring I would say that I have
never cared to take away the poor heart I gave
you. It is yours for eternity. Come at once to
see the happiest woman on earth. Alice.
No wonder the boy was happy. The romance
was reality, after all, and what was better, we
took considerable stock in it.
Horace soon left us and took the position
made vacant by Mr. Clayton. He gave old Tom
a life situation on the ‘ad cases,’ and the old
veteran has given his saored word never to
tramp again.
Laura, the little waif, whom Horace had
picked up and educated, was happily married
to an eminent lawyer of B , and her first
born is named Horace Huntingdon.
me r to P——? t0 8ome ‘day'and" see a strong,
broad-shouldered man romping with a couple
of pretty children, wlrde his wife iooks on and
occasionally says : ‘Look, Horace, don’t muss
up my geranium bed,’ you’ll thmk that it lias
more truth than fiction.
(THE END.)
running off; sometimes the queen leaves.
fVi n nnann nnt nnnnnm, ^ a. — _ 11
Bcamper away in pursuit of their fugitive
queen. If they find her far from home, they
Q n All? anttlamnnt •/,1k 1L » ..
PREMIUM ESSAYS
—ON—
ANTS AND DEES.
Ants.
There are a great many different kinds of ants.
Some of them are very small and their houses
are very tiny indeed. Others are large and
make large houses, containing rooms and nurse
ries and places to keep provisions. Ike kind ot
ant which builds such large ant-hills, or houses,
is called the white ant. When the auts build a
great many houses, they join them together and
form a city. They choose a kiug and qneen to
rule over them and build a fine large room, in
which they place the king and queen. lhey
build rooms all around them and have guards
to watch over them, and other ants to wait on
them and work for them. They feed the king
and queen so well and take such good care ot
them that they grow to be very large and majes
tic and cannot get out of fneir room at all. Ice
auts build passages from one room to another
and from one building to another and they have
staircases to go up to higher rooms. They build
bridges, too, and do many curious and wonder
ful things. There is a kind of aat called the
legionary ant, which is very fierce and brave,
but is not fond of work. The legionary ants
go in great crowds. They are of a light color
and can sting terribly. They are great thieves
They steal other ants when they are young and
make slaves of them. They are such drones
that they would soon die, it they did not have
these negro ants to work for them and wait on
tfaem. The negro anis are very kind to them
and seem to delight in working for them. Once
a gentleman, who was studying the habits ol
ants, put some of these legionary ants into a
bottle with some dirt and provisions, but they
would not even t^ike the trouble to pick up what
had been given tffiem and in two or three days,
several of tfaem died. H ® then put one negro
ant into the bottle with them and it at once
went to work building rooms and placing tfae
legionary ants in them. It fed them and t rea '
ed them very kindly. Ants are very patient ant
not easily discouraged.
IOU Will ttWU U1DVV7»va , j
I have told you this for the good of yourself and
daughter. You have only to follow my instruc
tions to see the truth of what I say,’ and then
the seedy individual Bhot out of the office like
a The new disclosure was crushing to Mr. Clay
ton Hitherto he had trusted Horace implicitly,
and believed him to be as pure as the purest of
men, but now there was a cloud. He sum
moned the office boy. .
•Dick, does Mr. Huntingdon give yon money
every week to send to some one inB — ?
‘Yes, sir; I have been sending five dollars a
week for him for a year.’
• What is the name of the person r
‘ Miss Laura Clayton Hines.’
• Well, that’s all I want with yon; but mind
von, don’t say a word about this conversation to
any one, not even Mr. Huntingdon. Next pay
Of course, of course.’ __ T
seo r fo( l yourselfTrthese* weekly sums are 'sent. I ‘I want you to promise ^^m^hMk^ut/
Yon will also discover the name of his mistress, ed up, wont kick up and knock my efaun
AOU ’ 1 • Of course, of course. ‘ .
‘Well, now see here ; this is business, xoa
remember old Clayton up there in P •
‘Of course, of course.’
•Well, old Clayton had a sister, and she give
me a fifty dollar note if I’d go to the old. man
and put up a job on your young ftiend Hunt
ingdon.’
In an instant the old man was as sober as a
judge. He straightened up and told his fellow
tramp to go on.
•Well, 1 put up the job and Huntingdon was
turned out of doors. The way of it was tnis:
Miss Clayton had fonnd out that Huntingdon
was in the habit of sending money every week
to a girl that he had picked np in the s*? m8
and was educating at a college in B ibe , n
she got me through a feltovt named Blanton, to
go to Clayton and represent this girl aa hia mia-
Hazlehursx, Ga., April 10, 1878.
Mr. John H. Seals, Atlanta, h'a.-Dear sir: I
have just subscribed for your paper and like it
very much. I’m just thirteen years old; have
never written anything for a newspaper, but have
decided to tell yon what I know about ants, with
Hie hope of getting a premium. The white ants
have towns and colonies. In every family o
tribe of ants there are three classes: the males,
which have wings all the time; the females hav
ing wings only a part of the year; and pother
kmd whioh never have wings, and which do
moBt of the work, being called on this amount
servants, neuters and sometimes wmr-ants, be
cause this class has the chief care of the eggs,
grubs, oocoons and young ants. Early in the
season when the ants commence work, the males
and females may be seen among the workers,
having white glistening wings, mixing with the
workers who watoh them diligently, posting
sentinels in the neighborhood, and never allow
ing their winged friends to go beyond the
limits without a guard. Sometimes ant .ettl^
m enta aft deserted on account of the females
night, continuing this until the eggs haVsh out
into grubs; the grubs eat a great deal, and being
helpless, they cannot feed themselves, but aro
fed by the nnrse-auts. The second stage is the
cocoon period; the grubs spin webs and wrap
around their bodies; then they are cocoons,
which are cared for by the nurse-ants in the
same manner that the eggs were. They resem
ble small grain, and some people have imagined
when seeing them dragging the cocoon into their
homes, that it was realty grain they were storing
away for winter use, but that is a mistake, as
ants never eat grain.
The neuters are of the same use in the colonies
as servants are to us. They are really their
slaves, which have to make the streets do fill their
mining, masonry and fertilizing ; all this they
do very skillfully with no other tool than their
jaws. Ants live principally on honey, or some
thing sweet, they frequently make rades on su
gar dishes and preserve jars, but they get most
of their honey honestly from little insects called
amphides or lice, such as we frequently see on
cabbage when they are going to seed, these in
sects are of the same use to them, that cows are
to us. When the ants find these amphides, they
touch them lightly with their feelers, or horn3,
and they will dart out a drop or two of honer
from two little tubes on their backs, whioh the
ant devours, and then passes on to the next, and
continues in this way until they get enough or
rather as much as they can carry, or they aro
required to sustain the young ants and grubs.
Ants guard these insects with great care, and
they even sometimes build walls of defence ar
ound them, just as we pen cattle ; they are their
cows. Ants even have real war, fight great bat
tles, storm forts, and carry off the plunder,
which consists in eggs, grubs and cocoons, all
of which when they reach maturity are classed
as slaves, and have to act acordingly.
I could enlarge on this subject and say
a great deal more in regard to the habits of
ants, but fearing you will consider what I have
said too much, I’ll close. Please excuse all my
mistakes. I am most Respectfully,
Sallie W. McRae.
Hazlehurst, No. 8i, M. & B. R. li. Ga.
Essay on Bees.
We read of bees in the early ages of the world.
The Bible tells us that the children of Israel
were brought out of Egypt into ‘a 1 .nd flowing
with milk and honey’ and other ancient writers
speak of their being reared in hives and made
useful very much as we have them now. This
faithful little worker furnished a luxury for
man for ages, and he accepted and enjoyed
it witout caring to look into its wonderful con
struction and habits. fVe owe our knowledge
now to Frances Huber, of Genoa. Ee lost hi3
sight when young from too close application to
tho study of insects, but he became so interest
ed in bees that he still kept on, first by the aid
of a servant, then by his wife and afterwards by
his son. He published the result of all this
care and study in a series of letters in 1792.
He divides them into three classes—the
qneen or mother, the male or drone and the
war bee.
There is but one queen to a hi7e, and here
whole time is occupied in laying eggs in the
small cells prepared for her by the little work
ers. She has a sting, but is gentle and
timid unless a rival queen comes in her realm,
then she fights furiously until she is again the
sole ruler. If it is near the time fora swarm, in
queen will leave the hive, take a part of her
subjects with her and form a new colony. She
lays about one hundred thousand eggs in a year.
The drones are larger than the queen but
they never work, depending upon the little
workers for their daily food. They have no
sting and are too indolent to use it if they had
one. The workers feed them two or three
months, but when the flowers begin to fail they
sting them to death. As there are from five
hundred to fifteen hundred drones in a hive, it
is well to dispose of them when food is scarce.
The workers are said to be undeveloped fe
males. Herber and others have tried experi
ments by removing the queen from the hive
when the workers would immediately break in
to the cells containing the larvae, form larger
cylindrical cells in which they would plan the
worker larvae and feed them on the richest diet.
In a few days they are again awarded by having
a queen to rule over them. The construction
of the little workers is indeed wonderful. They
are smaller than the queen or drone and as they
have the work to do, and provided with a sting
which they are not slow in using if they are im
posed upon. They are supplied with little bowls
or baskets on the outside of the hinder thighs,
which they use for carrying the pollen of the
flowers to feed the young. These little baskets
are surrounded by long hairs to which the pol
len adheres when they go down into the flower.
They use their feet for brushing it into their
baskets so that it ean be safely carried to the
hive. Bees are entirely dependent on plants.
Their cells are attached to the hives and ail
cracks closed by a glutinous substance called
propolis;the pollen furnishes food for the young,
and honey is the sweet juices of the flowers that
go through some chemical change in their bod
ies and is disgorged through their mouths into
the cells prepared for it. Wax is secreted in
their bodies by dig* s'.ion and comes out in little
scales between "the rings of their abdomen.
There are from ten to thirty thousand workers
in a swarm and as they are always busy it is not
wonderful that we have honey in abundance.
When a new colony goes into a hive the workers
immediately begin making their cells of wax.
They are hoxagonal (six sided) and a strong
swarm can make as many as four thousand in a
dav In these the mother bee deposits her eggs.
The eggs laid in the fall and winter produce
only workers. In the spring the workers make
several hundred six sided cells much larger
than the first. The eggs laid in these produce
drones. The cells for queeas are quite dinsr-
ent, being cylindrical and as there are but few
of these favored grubs they can afford to teed
them on diet indeed fit for a queen. A queen
will live four or five years.
Howard McCall.
McCall’s Mills, Georgia.
The Honey Bee.
The Bee I might say belongs to the insect
kingdom (if such a kingdom there is.) He is
a very busy insect. In the summer he extracts
from the flowers all the honey they yield and
puts it away with that of hia other brethren,lor
his winter meal, that he may have it when the
flowers have faded, and the honey dried np.
Many other insects put away their winter ration,
but none are so delicious as honey. The Bee
generally has his hive in a hollow tree. It
anyone or thing goes there to disturb them or
take their honey they are veiy apt to feel their
stingers. The honey is generally taken at night.
A fire is built a shortways off from the tree, the
brightness of the fire attraots the Bees and a
great many of them are burnt to death. Oh .
how oruel it is. I hope no reader of the Boss
and Girls oould enjoy suoh a scene. I will not
longer tire you on thia subject.
John. E. Wrigh*.
Plain View P. 0., King and Queen Co. Ya.