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The Progress By TF. B. WOODWARD. DEVOTED TO THE MINING, AGRICULTURAL AND EDUCATIONAL INTERESTS OF CLEVELAND, WHITE COUNTY AND NORTH FAST GEORGIA. TERMS: One Dollar 1W Ytar. VOL. I. CLEVELAND, WHITE COUNTY, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, AUGUST 12, 181)2. NUMBER :? Nlnty-five per cent, ol all the money (transactions in the associated banks of (New York are accomplished by means of checks and drafts, lcaviug five per cent, of fhr total business to be represented by coin or paier money. A company has been incorporated in New Jersey for the manufacture of meinbranoid, a fancy leather mads from tripe—nothing else than tanned tripe, The patent-office authorities insisted that tripe was tripe, no matter through what chemical process It might have been put., and some time elapsed and there was much parleying before a com promise was affected oil the name of the product nn.v called membrauoid. This new species of leather is said to be pretty and durable. The reports to the Chicago Graphic from differeut reliable sources of the crop conditions over the country are causing s slight, inactivity in nearly all depart ments of industry and commercial enter prise. The wheat crop is far from sat isfactory in most of the principal wheat producing sections; the corn crop is likely to be short, especially as the acre age will be limited in both the North and the South. Oool weather can do much, however, to improve the condi-' lions. The revolutibiftlm electricity is work ing is shown in the auction sale adver tised, in the Boston Transcript, of WOO, 000 worth ol stables by the West End Htreet Railway Company. “I'beeUctrin carriage," comments the Transcript, "that is perambulating Commonwealth avanue and our suburban roads now adays points the way to still greater changes—when hevay toams and tri cycles will discharge draught horses and saddle horses and make stables, in town at least, absolutely unnecessary.” It is as3Crte 1 that after this year the Unite! States will not only be able to stop importing fruit, but will begin to be a factoi in supplying the mirksts of the world. The estimate is that New York will have 2J, 000,000 pounds of fruit from California alone this su nmer. Fast fruit trains now cross the continent fn seven days, and enable the growers to harvest a riper product than heretofore, Arizona and Oregon are coming to the front as fruit states; Mississippi is getting 'famous for tomatoes, and Florida oranges and Georgia peaches are always sure of a ready market. The optlook has never been so promising. The average "rate of'Taru^wages in me United States is *12.54 per month aud board. This is nearly double the amount paid fifty years ago and twenty per cent, higher than in 1879. It must be re membered that in addition to an actual increase in wages the purchasing quality of a dollar has been nearly doubled since 1879. The condition of farm laborers is slso improved, maintains the Chicago Graphic. Machinery does most of the hard work formerly performed by the “hired help," the hours of labor have been shortened and the opportunities for saving are more numerous. The farm laborer is situated far more agreeably than the day laborer in citie3 and towns who has to work for a dollar or a dollar and a quarter a d ly, out of which ho has to pay for his board, lodging, washing and other incidentals. A Mammoth Chestnut Company has been organized in New Jersey, with a capital of -$59,000, all paid in. This, the New Orleais Picayune explains, is not a chestnut in the reproachful sense. The company owns a natural chestnut grove of 850 acres in Camden County, which is said to be the prettiest and most produciive piece of chestnut tim ber in the United States. The idea is to increase the holdings to 1000 acres in various sections of the 8tate, and go into the culture of mammoth chestnuts on a mammoth scale. The trees in the grove mentioned are about as far apart as those in a peach orchard, and have been cutoff a few feet from the ground, while the en tire tract has beenclearod, the woodob- <tained more than paying the cost. Slips from Japanese chestnut trees are being grafted to the stumps, and a crop of the “mammoths” is expected in two years. There are many varieties of improved chestnuts, but the Japanese have been assiduously cultivated for centuries, and excel ail others. The combination with them of the sweetness and flavor of th6 wild American variety, which has neve- been cultivated, will, if it is accom plished, bring about a perfect product. The Japanese nut is ready for market two or three weeks earlier than any other, and the expense of gathering the crop is comparatively slight. Sheep can be pastured in the chestnut orchard, or it can be made into a game preserve. One ot the finest trout streams in the State runs through it, and it is full of email game. It is very com non to see a Japanese chestnut six inches or more in circumference. It is not palatable raw, but can be cooked and used as food in , many different wav*. SWEET SUMMER TIME. O. winter may be very nice For those who skate upon the tes And own a horse and sleigh. But for a feast of endless joy We ll take the su nmer time, my boy And take it every day. Jast think of lying under trees And watching busy, buzzing bees Go in and out of flowers, And hearing feathered songsters sing While yeu within a hammock swing For long and lasy hours. Imagine how it feels to strip And in tha salty ocean dip And gambol in the spray, And hear the military band l pon the mellow moon-lit sand Without a cent to pey. Think of the picnic’s festive joys tV hen all the dear old girls and boys Play "Copenhagen” blest; Around the rope-stretched ring we stand Till some one slaps our willing hand, And then we do the rest. And think of Ashing fun supreme. Of treating sweethearts to ice cream Beside the fountain's sound. And sailing with the Jolly tars, Of riding in ths open cars And on the merry-go-round. Just drsem of sparking at the gate Without a fear of staying late Against a papa’s law, Of wearing zebra blazer coats And flannel shirts with open throats And dainty hate of straw. Remember watermelons, too, And mornlngs sparkling with the dew And fragrant with perfume. O. yes I Bweet summer cannot be Too hot for either you or me~ Forever may it boom. —H. C. Dodge, in Chicago 6un MrB, Marlow's Nenhew, BT EMMA A. OPPEF. LETTER front Mre. Marlow,” said Ruth. “Is ihe com ing?” her moth er demanded, somewhat wild- ly. They warehouse-cleaning “No. She wanta me to come there," said Rath. She looked vary tall and very pretty, standing straight, with s flush and a frown. “She wanta me to come, becauie”—Ruth dwelt reaentfully on every syllable—“became she expects her nephew next week, and she wants me to meet him. Meet him I” said Ruth, severely. Her mother looked upon her with a serene expression—nay, with a pleased smile. “1 am extremely pleased I" she de clared, with a graciousness a little im paired by the towel which wreathed her head. “Pleased that a woman of Mrs. Marlow’s wealth and position should so greatly desire my daughter's company as to invite her twice to visit her. You had malaria when she asked you before. Now you can go." Mrs. Lnrason beamed. “I don’t want to meet her uephow!” said Ruth, indignantly. Her mother rested her strong and well-formed hands upon the broom- handle. Mrs. Larason was a woman of energy. The towel slipper down over one keen, bright eye. “I don’t know what notion Mrs. Marlow may have in her head, Ruth,” she remarked, “but 1 do know she is fond of you. It is not in the least prob able that a nephew of Mrs. Marlow’s, a young man of wealth, of cultivation, of high social standing, such as he must be, would take the remotest fancy to a girl like you, wlic have nothing of the sort. But I hope, Ruth, that if anything of the kind should by any accident oc cur, vou will behave wita judgment and reason, that you will remember what is due to me, if not to yourself; that you will not indulge a morbid, ridiculous obstinacy. You know precisely what I mean.” Mrs. Larason went on sweepiug. “I don't know how you can speak so, mother I" Ruth cried. And she almost ran from the room. Sarah followed her—followed her up (o her room, and sat down by the win dow. “You dropped this," she observed, calmly—Sarah was always collected — presenting Ruth’s shell-hair ornament, dropped in her flight. “Neither of you has a bit of feeling, or heart, or aympathyl” said Ruth, sticking in the hairpin with a forcible jab. “You’re two stones—icebergs!" "Thank you,” said Sarah—“thank youl I suppose this is all about. Waul Pikes?” ■'There's nothing especially funny,” Ruth responded—looking simply lovely, Sarah reflected, with that dash of spunky red in her fair cheeks—“about calling Paul Wilkes Waul Pikes." But it was some comfort to have Sarah to talk to—Sarah, who was five years older, and a dear, good sister, as a rule —only “rangely warpe I and perverted on this subject, an I inclined to her mothers point of view. “I won’t give him up," Ruth de clared, firmly—“1 simply won’t!” “There isn’t anything to givs up, is there?” Sarah suggested. "Nothing but the rather dim and shadowy recolleotion ora flirtation last summor,*and a few letter* aince, with 'P. W.’ on the seal, and a photograph with "Yours over, P. W.,’ on the back, and a carved glove- box with ‘P. W. to R. L.’ on the bot tom, and—” “A flirtation? Sarah,” cried Ruth, “you don’t know him, nor me, nor—nor anything I” "Thanks again—thanks, awfully I" said Sarah, unmoved. “I do know oaa thing, and that is that if poor mamma had dreamed that you were go- iug to meel Paul Wilkes at Greene Har bor—a young fellow with nothing but a clerkship—and fall in love with him— »s though wo weren't poor enough already, and as though you couidn't, II you’d wait, do lots better—if she’d known it, why, she’d never have gone to Greene Harbor. Aud how we did skimp and aave to do it I" Sarah groaned. “I ahall nevQt be glad enough dial w went,” said Ruth, “and thankful euough. I me! a man, and I know a man when I seo one. So do you, Sarah Larason.” "You must have, a new dress to take to Mrs. Marlow’s,” said Sarah, evasively. “Your blue serge is simply dilapidated. As to the man, there are others just as good as Waul—Paul Wilkes. Perhaps Mrs Marlow’s nephew is a man.” “I shan't look at, him," cried Ruth, “nor speak to him/, ‘“That will make things highly inter esting,” Sarah chuckled. "'But has it occurred to you, dear, that your heroics are all for nothing, possibly? that Mr. Wilkes may have been attentive to you, and corresponded with you, and all that, just for fun—just because nothing more important, claimed him just then? In that case, Mrs. Marlow’s nephew—” Sarah was aware that that speech was boldly ruthless, but she was unprepared for the flash of anger in her sister's beautiful eyee, for the grieved trembling of her lips, for the haughtiness and the indignation and the stern .reproach. “He loves me,” Ruth cried, “and he is true and brave and noble 1 Nothing you can say will make, qpa doubt him. He is good, he is honorable I" And she went deliberately and took his photograph from its little easel on her bureau, and as deliberately touched her lips to it. Sarah did not speak immediately, be cause she found herself strangely thrilled, and because there was, surprisingly, a moisture in her eyes. “You can’t go in your old lace hat,” she said, finally, in dry tones. “You look like a fright in it. And Mrs. Mar. low the owner of two factories, and a fortune besides I You must have a new Ruth sat with Mrs. Marlow on the broad porch of that lady’s pretty residence. Bhc had come, and a spirit of unwillingness and dread ha 1 come with her. The old blue serge and the lace hat had come, too. She had been Arm on that point. She had od the serge now, disguised by Sarah's anxious hands with a soft, cascade of chiffon, and she was looking unusually well in it. Mrs. Marlow sat on the opposite side of a little cherry table. It held two fra gile cups and saucers. "She has ten." Ruth ha'l written horns to her mother and Sarah, "about six times a day. 1 am drowned in tea. An 1 alia Iz a little odd in some ways. She hasn't men tioned yet the name of her nephew. She always sayB 'my nephew.’ It doesu’t matter in the least I haven’t the faintest Interest in him. She expect* him Thursday after noon. ” This was Thursday afternoon. But Ruth liked Mrs. Marlow. Preju dice and apprehension could not alter that. She was kind and gracious, and handsome and imposing, and towards Ruth she was openly affectionate. She was warmly smiting at her now, and smoothing down the delicate folds of hsr black lare dress, and turning her be-diamonded bracelet with plain ex citement. “The half-past fiye train, he wrote me, distinctly," she said. “If he shouldn’t come! Don’t you think Briggs has had ample time to drive back from the station, dear?” “Yes,” Ruth rejoined, promptly. She hoped Briggs was at that moment driving home alone, she hoped Mrs. Marlow's nephew had not come. “I will just take a look up the road," said Mrs. Marlow. And it struck Ruth that her hand was positively trembling. She strolled down the walk to ths gste. Ruth fell into a reverie. She saw— well, she saw nothing but what lay near est her tender heart. She saw a rather brown fsce. with oddly expressive blue eyes and a quick smile. She saw a stretch of sandy beach; bright ill the sun; s leafy walk, white with the moon light a hotel piazza—a dancing hall. But she saw the bronzed fsce every where. tied, the gate had jkd * banged shut. \ Ruth glanced down She was sorry her mother and Sarah were disappoiutodyz ntl troubled, but— but—aho had his last dear letter In her pocket this mmole—she alway carried the last till another came—and it wa9 more to her, she JsSt, Ihaufll the wealth the world boasts Wheels had clicked, opened? There were voics the walk. Ohl. Her nephew had come. He was tall and strong, iiglTumethiug like—a little like— Ruth rose. 81 at the table, not that one of the oupj And then—Rilitqg at a loss in any, forward and caiijil nephew by Ins coafe! “Paul,” she “Paul Wilkes!’!* “At your s.-rvioe!'” Then he Imisthflaj; and then he folded “What— how—wShj; as though tho ore® from her in the tn| impossibility. “Why—when" supplemented. ](| ing her eyes, an) moist. “Why, nephew, that’s all <fear girl? I am the ueplicw of several other persons also, aud cousin tojquite an assortment of individuals, and^he grandson,of —" “You never told me)" :fl8ld£Rutb, “never a syllable!” ( >‘r * f: “He will explsu’,1 tt," Mrs. Marlow murmured, amid *uqh tears as women shed for happtoeiq* 2; / "But I spoke oi. you to him’’ ,*I re member speaking djPj&i, to him,” R ith protested,"‘•"msrt tE^'oncc, Paul." “We were not i.-c the*"very ti^st of terms then, Paul anlS" v said Mrs. Mar low—“not the be-,, ". You see, l In I asked him to tftk-clthji manage nga’. •>: is very anxi ft -, t > id not. He a li I it inaudibly, Paul Wilkes, boisterously, V»j£rnii. feeling jlpidg away biurdUy and **jrer lover •W Tv (is wip- Ja ow&Wenj softly aui Mrs...Marlow’s p^e Mr. Gersel, children. I .Gersel .-Rber- jTlitS uh'worldly lank I I was my future ntso cruelly, about telling my two factor'.!-*, have him, but he would tliroW, who had a wife promised 11 pr< wise, and will; young man seriously pi heir, to treat and I supj him so.”, Mrs, Jjgarli whicliflldfalfi a “You were," isingly—“you Wi And it was *about Grecue Harbor—b] —and mot-"'you, d mentioued^Mra. alarmingly near She's a relative of mic#, unfortunately— a well-meaning, but:;unreasonable anl obstinate—’ ” ' "Paul his aunt tfegged. “But ^didnlT es^it-pl didn’t Say anything at all. I thought that was my best nlan." “And just recently,Mear,” said Mrs. Marlow, “my managoflKas taken another position qj^hie own acoord, because my factories needed a younger man, he said. And tij«n Paul did condescend to come. And in th«Tourse of oV correspondence about it ho mentioned you, and I was perfectly delisted. I wrote back that we wouldn't WfKy a word to anybody about it, but that he must meet you here in my house, and—apd you see it all, ffon’t you, Ruth, dear?" Mrs. Marlow demanded, overflowijJ^witb pride and joyful satisfaction. 11 LugW I" iSld Pa.wF But Ruth, understood. Her happy, earnest eyefeturned from Paul to his aunt, and from Paul. With Paul’s hantHfc-grasping hers, and with his laughing,goring eyes upon her, all things—the atiiagest —”JT*r# ex tremely easy to understCid? “Mother and Sarali, she was saying to herself, gladly—“hfjlj fortunate, how nice for them I" She wrote a saucy libtl* letter to them that evening * "f have met Paul Wilkas here," she said, "and it is all settled now. "-We are truly en gaged, and 1 am so happy!" And she told all the ^tonishiog truth in a detailed six-page postscript. AN INDIAN KITCHEN. HOW THE FOOD OK THE RED MAN IS PREPARED, They Never Wash Thetr Cooking Utensils, anil Consequently Kvorythinir Hna a Mixed Smell and Taste Large Pap:rs ana Smalt. There are large papeffeand small. Of the former the Inrr,c^ perhaps ever issued, in point of nuintur of pages, re cently came Irom the messes of a San j Francisco journal. TiJjre were no less | than fifty sheets, making a paper of one hundred pages. The smallest regularly issued paper is published ai Sarawak, ffl the Island of Borneo. It is the Sarawak Gazette, thirteen inches lofl^aad’eight and one- quarter inches wide, jt made its bow to the native* of the island for ths first time in August, 1§70. The Gold Coast Times is a pa pet not ifcy much larger I th^i the Sarawak Gazette, but is printed j c/il-plp ^J^-^raak Lsslis's. I HAVE seen hundreds of meals pre pared in the Indian fashion by ths savages themselves during the last twenty years while traveling be tween British Columbia and Mexico, up and down the Rockies, but I enn say, in all honesty, that I have never seen or smelled an Indian stew or roost that I wanted to partake of it in ail my wanderings,” said a gentleman to a Washington Stsr wriler. “No, not that—that's not the reason at all, for I have been hungry enough, often, but the fact is simply this: an Indian wants a great deal to eat and cares little about the details of cooking, while a while man is more concerned about the manner in which bis meal is be served than he is about the quantity of it. “A great deal on nonsense has been written about the depraved appetites of Indians, whet nasty messes of putres cent meat, fish and oil they make way with, and other like feasts; but just stop a moment. Go down to that res taurant across the street from us and the chances are that if you are not used to it I can order up a dish of Limberger chese rfl turn your appetite adrift or a plate of “gamey” deer meat whioh will drive you from the scene. “With the exception of rotten fish and roe repasts Thave never smelled any thing worse than the odor of a portion of that particular oheese I have just re ferred to in any Indian spread that has been under my eyes. An Indian, strangely enough, likes putrid ltsh, but he docs not relish his flesh after that fashion or his fowls; a distinctly rotten egg he never eats, but eggs that are well advanced toward hatching he rather prefers; shell fish are always eaten fresh by savages, and I know that if there was any method not involving great care and labor by which" animal and fish oils could be kept sweet by their savage con sumers these oils would be, for they know and appreciate the difference just as keenly as we do in the oase of eweet or ranold butter. Oil takes the plaoe of butter with them; but though they know how to render the fats, and how to pre serve the product thereof so as to be sweet, yet the labor is never undertaken, and the strong smell which hangs over all the Indian kitchens, is due to this oil itself or its residuum in the unwashed wooden or metal utensils where it is kept. “Indians have a marked liking for ths entrails of all birds, beasts and fishes— these are the real glout morceaux; they piuok and singe the feathers from most of the land fowls and skin duoks, geese and other water birds, and all animals, and scale all fishes which are distinctly scaled; no bird, animal or fish is ever wasted after these steps are taken by the squaws, who either put the result of their dressing into a stewpan or spit it for roasting before the coals or under the embers; they object, to washing the game or fish, saying that the water spoils it! They use no salt in cooking or pepper; no spices; no condiments whatever. “The Indian in his daily searen for food takes almost anything he comes acsoss and he has quite a large variety, but when it comes out from the kitchen the result is that U all tastes about th« same—venison to-day boiled in a kettle where fish were stewed yesterday, and a goose goes into this kettle to-morrow— in the meantime the kettle has never been cleaned or emptied fully of this day's repast ere the material for the next day's dinner is thrown into it! Natur ally, this curious, shiftless cooking gives an indescribable flat and repugnant flavor to everything that comes from the ket tle day after day—at least, it is so de clared by our palates. But the Indians are satisfied—they simply eat to live, and the pleasures of the table they connl of less value than the ease of their labors in the cuisine. “Still Indians appreciate good cook ing and were in the full knowledge of making a variety of feast dishes which were very good. They understood the making of gravies, thick soups and corn bread and the biking of fish and meats to a turn long, long before a white man evei set foot on fhe Americtn continent, but the wooden dishes, such as platters, birch bark kettles aud spoons of maple or l>ass wood wore usually so charged with ancient odors as to make a dis agreeable impression upon everything that was served in them when offered to the white visitors, and neu'ralizel all the skill of fhe squaw’s culinary efforts, i The fac’ was that dish washing was an undertaking much dt«!iked and seldom thoroughly done in the Indian kitchen, j and a ru '■■■•■ sen ring of tha kettm* erss I about all that tha; ever got Defers baiag recharged with a fresh supply of the raw material. “A small fire and a slow simmering, slewing of meats and flah, vegetables and berries was the invariable feature of lodge fires when the Pilgrims first looked in upon them. The wooden pans or kettles were liberally charged with meat cut Into chunks and partially filled with water which was made to boil by reason of hot stones regularly thrown in and taken out as they cooled to make way for freshly heated dorricks, which were kopt in reserve among the embers of a steady fire. “As soon ns the iron kettles of the white men were shown to cur Indians Ihe labor-saving qualities of these vessels were at once appreciated by Lo, who made the utmost haste to possess himself of them. But he did not. change the result at all of his cooking. He sim mered and stewed everything as hereto fore and failed to wash the iron pots. The act of roasting and boiling meats and vegetables involved a vast deal more labor for the squaws, and the sloven and expeditious stow whereby enough for a largo number of voracious feeders was as quickly prepared as if for only a few eaters—this universal stew became well established among the savages long be fore while men were known to them. “An Indian warrior or buck when at home, or when squaws surround him, never gives the least attention to the kicthen—not a hint or a suggestion, but takes what the woman or women of his household bring him without a murmur. But after those buckshavo lived in con tact with white men they often cook at their own firesides, the pattern set them being too forcible, since the white trappers and pioneers were skilful and particular in the preparation of their meals when they had the leisure ” Harvesting Almonds. In an article on “Almond Culture in 'California," published iu Popular Sci- znce Monthly, the writor says: First to bloom in the spring, the al mond is last to mature iu the fall. The whole spring and summer long it hangs there, a green poach for all the world, and niter the first lew weoks never in- eren«ing in size or changing in appear ance. The seam is deeper than in most peaches, but not deeper than in the ripe apricot. Late in August this seam will be seen to havo opened in a few of the earliest. The grower's anxiety now reaches its climax. Will his almonds open and remain open until hurvosted, or will the drupe remain closed, or only partially open and then closo tight again? The whole profit of the crop may de pend on this question. It may cost half they are worth to pick and husk them. Just that thing happonod this year to my nearest neighbor, and to several neigh bors; while the nuts on this ranch opened better and husked easier than ever before in the wholo courso of its thirty years of almond growing. The result was, that our pickers earned a dollar and a half a day picking at half the cost per pound incurred by our neighbors, whose men earned a dollar and a quarter a day. The nuls are knocked off the trees with long poles. Where they have opened nicely they are allowed to drop on the bare ground, and are husked as they arc picked up. The picker’s de light, if he is working by the bushel or box, is to see the ground covered with nuts that the stroke of the polo and the impact against the clods have completely husked, so that he has nothing to do but throw them into his basket. He is lucky indeed if hall of them come out that way. Those that do not are husked with the fingers. Popular Science Monthly. The Famous Blarney otone. Five miles west of the city of Cork, Ireland, in a little valley where two streams meet, stands the little village of Blarney. The fame of Blarney is world wide. It has a castle, and in the walla of the castle the famous “Blarney Stone ” is set. The atone is a psrt of the solid masonry, is fifty feet from the ground, and about twenty feet below the pro jecting roof of the building. To kiss the blarney stone is supposed to endow one with captivating witchery of manner, to loosen his or her tongue so that the whole of the conversation will be oue solid stream of honeyed words. The situation of this talisman is such that the kissing of it is rather a danger ous feat, it being necessary to let the votary down over the walls by means of ropes. On the top ot the castle there is a stone which many claim is the “true Blarney" because the leat of kissing is mot* easily accomplished. This spurious stone has been in it* present situation only seventy year-; tue true blarney, mentioned ns being set in the wall, bears the date of the building of the castle, which is 1446. The wonderful cheek of man some- tunas covers thrss or four achers.—- The Ahuaosta Pear. One of the most noted trees in Santa Barbara County, California, is a bearing tree of the Ahuacata, growing upon the grounds of E. If. Sawyer, of El Monte- cito, the owner of the celebrated "‘Hot Springs,” near El MontecitO. This tree is about eighteen years old and is prob- nbly the finest tree of the species in California. It lias borne fruit since it was eight yeaisold aud is still prolific, the Sawyer place being protected from the pre vailing winds by a natural forest, and at an olevation where there is practically no frost. The fruit of this tree is held in great esteem uy the inhabitants of Mex ico and the West Indies. It is eaten raw with salt and bread, made into sula 1 with tho usual accompaniments, and in a variety of other ways it is a subject for tho neveronding round of experiments with those who delight in the preparation of dainty dishes. In Mexico it is sometimes called Mantequilla silvostro (butter of the woods) and is deemed oue of the finest fruits of the country. In the West Indies, where it originated, the English-speaking inhabi tants call it “vegetable marrow.” In the markets of Ban Francisco the fruit is sometimes offered for sale, and formerly brought one dollar each It was eager ly purchased by the “old-timers," who bad made their acquaintance in their Mexican habitat. The name “Alligator Pear" of the Americans is doubtless a conuption of the Mexican name, “Ahua cata, ” pronounced All wah-kah-tab. Tho tree is a magnificent evergreen, rivaling the oak6 of our forests in size aud sym metry. It is u member of the Laurel family aud derives its name from Person, the Egyptian tree, and “gratissima (most grateful). It is one of the many exotic trees, which should receive more attention in California. I' is grown t > some extent in Florida, whence tho fruit is shipped to New York and P.iiladol- phia.— Boston Transcript. Fortunes Made By Aooldents. One O'Keilly, a trader, iu casually stopping at the house of a B >er nose I’uoil, Gri qualand Went, saw some children playing with a mimbsr ol ex ceedingly pretty pebbles, and oh asking hiB Dutch host whether he could take one, he was promptly told that he could do so, as “the children had plenty more of them.” O’Reilly took the stone to Grahams- town and sold it for $8000; it was re sold for $25,000. A Dutchman named De Beer had built himself the usual wattle and daub house on his farm, but it had beeu erected lor quite a long period before some inquir ing prospectors found that, tho rough cast used for the walls actually contained diamonds. The farm speedily changed bauds for $10,000. It now, with its neighboring mines, produces over $15,- 000,000 of diamonds annually, the tola! wealth from this discovery to date be ing probably over $250,000,000. At Wosselton, a Boer riding out at sundown to bring in his horses from the void!, where they had been running all day, saw a small auimal called a "meercat" (it somewhat resembles a weasel and burrows iu colonies like rab bits) industriously scraping some earth from its hole. Some peculiarity of the ground so thrown up led the Dutchman to fill his handkerchief with it, nnd af ter he had stabled his horses, by the dismal light of a small lamp he ex amined the nature of the earth. To his astonishment and lelight he found a three-quarter caret diamond in tho sands. Further search at the meercat's hole revealed other diamonds, and six months ago no less than $2,550,000 was refused for the farm. Since the accidental dis- eoveiy over 200,000 carets of tine white diamonds have been extracted from the mine.—London Tid-Bits. Use Soienoe and Be Happy. A citizen of Cambridge, Mass., pro tects his ears from cat concerts and his fruit and flowers from juvenile thieves by means of a strip of zinc running along on the top of his garden fence and con nected with the electrte wires in his house. Neither the cats nor the boys are injured thereby, except from their own wild jumps when they touch the zinc.—Practical Electricity. Head Hunling M“xican8 and bidlans. It will be remembered that las' vear I a stray Apache was killed by the Mex ican* in Northeastern Sonora, and in their desperation the Mexicans cut toe Indian's head off. It is known that there are yet several stray Apaches in the Sierra Madre Mountains, and now comes the revenge. About three months ago ths body of a Mexican was found about 175 miles southeast of Nogales with the head severed from the body. Now the news comes that another oue has been found not far from the sarao place, similarly mutilated.—Yuma (Ari- leans'; Sentinel.