Newspaper Page Text
D. C. SUTTON, Editor and Prop'r.
RINGS IN TREES. ~
AHiat Measurements of Forest
Growth Have Disclosed.
The Rings Declared Not a True
Test of a Tree’s Life.
Every day some pet theory, long held
and honestly venerated, is being demol
ished and sent to the limbo of myth with
Toll’s apple, Washington’s cherry tree
and other old acquaintances. Now the
age rings in trees have to suffer limboni
zation, if the wofflf may be allowed. Mr.
R. W. Furras, an agent of the I'nited
States Forestry Department, who has
. given much attention to the age of a tree
as indicated by rings, as well as to the
period at which trees of ditto rent species
stop growing and that at which the wood
is at its best, has reached some con
elusions of general interest, lie says:
“Concentric or annual rings, which
were once accepted as good legal evi
dence, fail, except where climate, soil,
temperature, humidity and all other sur
roundings are regular and well balanced.
Otherwise, they are mere guesswork.
The only region within my knowledge
where either rings or measurements were
reliable indications arc in the secluded,
even and regularly tempered valleys of
the Southern Pacific coast.”
Annual measurements of white elm,
catalpa, soft maple, sycamore, pig hick
ory, cotton wood, chestnut, box elder,
honey locust, coffee tree, burr and white
* ' ak, black walnut, osnge orange, white
pine, red cedar, mulberry and yellow
■willow (nineteen species), made in south
eastern Nebraska, show that “annual
growth is very irregular, sometimes
scarcely perceptible and again quite
large,” and this he attributes to the dif
ference in seasons. As trees increase in
age inner rings decrease in size, some
times almost disappearing. Diminished
rate in growth after a certain age is a
rule. Os four great beeches mentioned
in London, there were three, each about
seventeen feet in girth, whose ages were
respectively 00, 102 and 200 years. Mr.
Furras found twelve rings in a black,
locust six years old, twenty-one rings in
a shell bark hickory of twelve years, ten
rings in a pig hickory of six years,
•eleven rings in a wild crabapple of five
.■years, and only twenty rings in a chest
nut oak of twenty-four years. An Amer
ican chestnut of only four years had
nine rings, while a peach of eight years
had only five rings.
Dr. A. M. Childs, a resident of Ne
braska from 1854 to 1882, a careful ob
server for the Smithsonian Institution,
who counted rings on some soft maples
eleven years two months old, found on
one side of the heart of one of them
forty rings, and not less than thirty-five
anywhere, which were quite distinct
when the wood was green, but after it
had been seasoned only twenty-four
rings could be distinguished. Another
■expert says that all our Northern hard
woods make many rings a year, some
times as many as twelve, hut as the last
set of cells in a year’s growth are very
small and llie first very large, the annual
growth can always be determined, cx
f cept when from local causes there is any
particular year a little oi no cell growth.
' This may give a large number on one
side. Upon the Pacific coast of North
America trees do not reach the point
where they stop growing nearly as early
as those of the Atlantic coast. Two
hundred years is nearly the greatest age
attained on the eastern side of the con
tinent by trees that retain their
vigor, while 500 years is the case
of several species on the Western
coast, and one writer is con
confident that a sequoia which was
measured was not less that 2376 years
old. At W ran gel, a western hemlock,
six feet in diameter at the stump, was
four feet in diameter 132 feet further up
the trunk and its rings showed 432 years.
But in the old Bartram Garden, near
Philadelphia, not more than 150 years
old, almost all the trees are on the down
grade. The Quercus Hobar, England’s
pride, which at home is said to live 1000
years, has grown to full size and died in
this garlen, and the foreign spruces are
following suit. Silver firs planted in
1800 are decaying. Tire great differ
ence in the longevity of trees upon the
western and eastern coasts of continents
in the Northern Hemisphere seems to be
due to the wa m, ir.oi t air carried by
strong and perm ice it ocean currents
from the tiopios northeasterly, in both
the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, which
make the climate both moist and equable
in high latitudes. In Sitka, as much as
100 inches of rain have fallen
in a year, and the harbor is rarely frozen
enough to hinder the pi.v-age of boats.
*•> some winters scarcely any ice is so:o.
—[Lumber World.
®hc JKontgomcrs JUonitor.
How lo Act at a Fire.
Mr. A. TV. 0. Shenn recently gave the
following sun pie directions how to act
on the occurrence of fire, before the So
ciety of Arts: “Fire requires air; there
fore, on its appearance every effort j
should be made to exclude air, shut all
doors and windows. By this means tiro
may be confined to a single room for a
sufficient period to enable all the inmates
to be aroused and escape; but if the
doors and windows are thrown open, tho
fanning of the wind and the draught
will instantly cause the flames to in
crease with extraordinary rapidity. It
must never be forgotten that the most j
precious moments are at the commence
ment of a Are, and not a single second |
of time should be lost in tackling it. In
a room a tablecloth can b 3so used as to
smother a large sheet of flame, and a
cushion may serve to heat it out; a coat
or anything similar may be used with
equally successful result. The great point
is presence of mind, calmness in danger,
action guided by reason and thought.
In all large houses buckets of water
should be placed on every landing, a
little salt being put into the water. Al
ways endeavor to attack the bed of fire;
if you cannot extinguish a fire, shut tho
window, and be sure to shut the door j
when making good your retreat. A wet
silk handkerchief tied qver (he eyes and j
nose will make breathing possible in the j
midst of much smoke, and a blanket
wetted and wrapped round the body will
enable a person to pass through a sheet |
of flame in comparative safety. Should
a Indy’s dress catch fire, let tho wearer
at once lie down; rolling may extinguish j
the fire, but if not, anything, woollen
preferred, wrapped tightly round will
effect the desired purpose. A burn be
comes less painful the moment air is ex
cluded from it. For simple burns, oil
or the white of egg can be used. One
part of carbolic acid to six parts of olive
oil is found to be invaluable in most
cases, slight or severe, and the first layer
of lint should not be removed till the
cure is complete, but saturated by the
-application of fresh outer layers from
time to time. Linen rag soaked in a
mixture of equal parts of lime water and
linseed oil also forms a good dressing.
Common whiting is very good, applied
wet and continually damped with a
sponge. —[Cultivator.
A Scotch Courtship.
A young Aberdonian, bashful, but des
perately in love, finding that no notice
was taken of his frequent visits to the
house of his sweetheart, summoned in
sufficient courage to address his fair one
thus:
“Jean, I wis here on Monday niclit.”
“Aye, ye were that,” acknowledged
she.
“Ah' 1 I wis here on Tuesday niclit.”
“So ye were.”
“An’ I wis here on Wednesday,” con
tinued tile ardent youth.
“Aye, an’ ye were here on Thursday
nieht.”
“An’ I wis here last niclit, Jean.”
“Weed,” she said, “what if ye were?” (
“An’ I am here this nieht again”
“An’ what a boot it-, oVeu if ye cam
every nieht?”
“What aboot it, did ye say, Jean?
i Div ye no begin to smell a rat?”—[Dub
-1 lin Nation.
Without Injnry.
The other day a reporter saw a black
smith examining an ax, from which he
had been asked to remove a portion of
the handle, which had been broken off
j close to the iron. The wood cottld not
|be driven out, and as nails had been
driven at the end it could not be bored
| out. “What will you do?” asked the
| reporter. “I’ll burn it out,” was the rc
-1 ply. “But you'll injure the temper of
' the steel,” suggested the reporter.
“Well, maybe not,” said the smith. He
drove the cutting edge into the moist
earth and built a fire around the pro
jecting part. The wood became charred
and was easily removed, while the tem
pered part of the ax sustained no injury.
—[Philadelphia Call.
A Considerate Mendicant.
“How is money?” said a middle-aired
man, wearing a withered looking prince
Albert coat, as he entered the office of a
well-known broker. “Is there much of
a demand for it now ?”
“No, sir. Very slight demand.”
I “Ahl In that case perhaps you can
accommodate me with ten cents to get a (
night’s lodging with.”—[Merchant- i
• Traveler.
- .
The Lost ( hi Id.
“Please, sir, have you seen a gentle
man without a little girl?”
“Well,and what if I have, little one?”
“My Unde John has lost me, and I
thought i? you’d se n a gentleman with
out a little girl you couhl tell me where
!he was."— Harper’s Young Folks.
MT. VERNON, MONTGOMERY CO.. UA., WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER !l, 1887.
MEXICAN BURIALS.
The Manner of Conducting Fu
nerals Across the Border.
Customs that Seem Strange to
an American Visitor.
AV riiing from Mexico, Fannie 11.
Ward says in a letter to the New York
Times: Another curious feature of Mexi
can life is the manner of ' conducting
funerals. The rich go to the cemeteries
1 in carriages, as elsewhere; tho middle
j class go on the street cars, coffin and
aU, while the poor walk and carry their
dead upon their shoulders. When horse
ears were first introduced into the Mexi
can capital, the manager of the line con
| ccived the plan of buying and retiring
all the hearses. Then ho put funeral
cars on that branch running to the ceme
tery, and the result was that everybody
wishing to bury in consecrated ground
was at his mercy, h soon became the
| fashion to visit the panteon in the horse
j cars, and all except those two extreme
! classes—the very richest and the very
poorest —now avail themselves of the
privilege. One frequently encounters a
funeral procession of this kind en route to
l the grave, the ear draped in black if
! the corpse he that of a man, or in white
jifit be a woman or a child—tho coffin
j exposed to the full glare of the sun and
J the gaze of tho populace, the horses,
; with their nodding plumes, driven by a
i spruce young man in conventional um
: form, and the car containing the
“mourners” gliding gaily over the rails.
The price for this service is graduated to
suit the taste or necessities of the be
reaved, and ranges from $3 to S3OO, de
pending upon the hearse equipments,
the number of horses and liveried at
tendants.
There has been a great Improvement
in Mexico in the matter of funerals
within the last few years. Still owing
to the scarcity of wood, which costs from
sooto SIOO per thousand feet, and the
wretchedly sma’l wages of the working
classes, the poor generally rent a coffin
for the last sad journey, at the most
about a dollar. Arriving at the ceme
tery, the body is taken out and wrapped
in a Scrape, laid in his rented grave and
the gorgeously painted box returned to
its owner. Jn thousands of cases the
grave is hired only for the space of
three or four months and at the end of
that time the bones are shoveled out to
make room for a new tenant. Quick
lime is thrown in with the corpse to
hasten tho work of decomposition, but
it is oo uncommon sight, uo see kicked
about the charnel yard of interior vil
lages, skulls with long tresses of hair
j attached and other horrors which show
that no sacredness is here attached to
the dead. To the average Mexican the
! idea of death has no terrors, and lie dies
as indifferently as he has live 1. In
many villages the custom is still etitnttt
of decorating 'dead children with the
wings of geese and turkeys, paper
crowns, ribbons and flowers, then march
ing them about tho streets seated in a
chair, and burying them amid the noise
of firecrAckCrs ami minstrels playing
I polkas and fandangoes.
A few years ago one of the most cele
brated writers in Mexico said: “In the
capital, as well as in the interior, I have
seen even more revolting things. The
pulque merchants hire dead bodieiq call
ed angeiaios (new born angels), as a
means of attracting customers. The
gathering crowd pray at first; and then
they drink, while the muchachas make
appointments with their lovers. Thus
the body serves several merchants in
turn, earning for its relatives an honest
penny; and is not buried until too olTcn*
sive to be endured.”
Even more curious arc the customs of
All Saints' day. and the following eight
days’ “Fair for the Dead.” Then all
the shops are in holiday dress,bull fights
and theatres in full blast, and dealers in
cakes and bon-bons drivo n lively trade.
But the confections must all be appro
priate to lh e season, such, for Instance,
as jointed "fctictons in spring boxes,
death*' head in sugar, candy cadaver*;
cakes in the form of catafalques, etc.
Every good Mexican attends this fair
for the sake of his departed ancestors,
and as little gifts cherish pure affection,
the lover presents his sweetheart with a
I sugar skeleton, or a skull as big us her
1 fist; the !iinband regales his wife on a
J taffy sepulchre, and the fond mother in- j
d--ges her child in a complete burial j
scene. Ho everybody renders himself
and hi- friends as happy us possible, and
i these strange tokens help to foster the
: national in Jiffcrence to death
I
The British people are chiefly inter* I
c-ted i/1 two bill , the land bill ami J
1 Buffalo Bill.
“SUB DEO FACIO FORTITER.”
.
New York’s Tenement House Children.
Every one who visits among the teno- j
incuts is surprised at the healthy looks j
of the children, who run about bare
headed, and in summer barefooted, and
who seem ruddy and strong. But they j
are the survivors who have passed
through the critical age of infancy, when
the weak quickly succumb to the foul
air and torrid heat. Even those sur
vivors, though they may seem outwardly \
vigorous, have but little strength, and ;
when an epidemic of measles or scarlet I
fever prevails they quickly yield to its j
baneful influence. Tho managers of
children’s institutions will confirm this
statement, and it shows how tho effects
of tenement life are perpetuated.
The terrible mortality among young j
children is the most potent evidence of
the effects of the tenement house system.
The massacre of the innocents in tho I
homes of the poor is amazing and npall- ,
ing to any one who has given it a
thought. For upward of twenty years
some 15,00(1 to 17,000 children under 5
years of ago annually perish in the me
tropolis, and most of them from what
with line irony are called “preventa
ble” diseases. Despite the steady in
crease in intelligence and the various im
provements that have been made in our |
sanitary regulations, in the condition of
the streets and in the character of tho
new buildings that have been erected,
the proportion of children’s deaths show
a steady advance, audit, will continue
to increase until radical measures are
taken by the health authorities to im
prove the tenements. —[New York Jour
nal. '
How lo Go to Sheep Soon.
I had fjriVly noticed that, when
engaged t,/deep thought, particularly at
night, there seemed to be something like
a compression of the eyelids, the upper
one especially, and tlio eyes themselves
were apparently turned upward, as if
looking in that direction, says a writer
in Chamber's Journal. This invariably
occurred, and the moment that, by an !
effort, 1 arrested the course of thought,
and freed the mind from the subject !
with which it was engaged, tho eyes re
sumed their natural position and the
compression of the lids ceased.
Now, it occurred to me one night that I
I would not allow the eyes to turn Up
ward, but kept them determinedly in /
the opposite position, as if looking
down; and, having done so for a short |
time, 1 found that the mind did not re
vert to the thoughts with which it. had
been occupied, and I soon fell asleep. I
tried the plan again with the same re
sult; and after an experience of two
years I can truly say that, unless when
something really annoying or worrying
occurred, I have always been able to go
to sleep very shortly after retiring to
rest.
There may occasionally bo some diffi
culty in keeping the eyes in the position
I have described, but a determined effort
to do so is all that is required, and I am
certain that if kc|it in the down looking
position, it will he found that compo
sure and sleep will he tho result.
Indian Washerwomen in Mexico.
'Che modern servant girl of American
civilization may not he all that could he
desired, but there ought to lie comfort '
in the thought that the Indian domestic j
down in Mexico is very successful in ;
making life a burden to those who em
ploy her. An Indian washerwoman
agrees originally id <lo a washing for it
moderate sum, generally half a dollar, <
but she wants her breakfast before she
begins; When work has progressed
until the clothes are all wet, she striked
and refuses to finish unless she ii given
a dress. Then she resumes for an hour
or so, when she declares she is hungry
again. lining fe 1 she worries along
until dinner time, but in the meantime
She has filled all tier pijekets with ap
pics or potatoes, or whatever seems
plentiful in the edible line. Along about
four o'clock she gets through her job.
Then she asks for another lunch and
some flour to take home with lief. As
aho is leaving her last remark is: “Mica
wake muck amuck.” H haven't any
thing to cat.) tender these circum
stances it is not surprising that wash
day is put off as long as |ios.xiblc in Mex
ico, and the rarity of clean linen is in a
measure excusable.
Saturn’s Moon-Circles,
Further marvels of Saturn’s rings have j
been noted by M. Stnyvert, of the Koyal
j Observatory of Brussels, and other as-
I tronoinera. Dusky notches in the edges
of the lings, with evidences of variabiii
tv, are indications which support tho
view that the singular hoop-like appen
dages of our sister planet are made up
of small satellites so closely grouped
j that thi paces separating th'Mii from
! each other arc not visible at the earth's t
J distance.
A COTTON FIELD.
Cultivating and Harvesting the
Useful Plant.
Seeding, Caring for and Picking
the Cotton.
In Harper’s Weekly of August there
was an illustration of a cotton wart*
! house. Tier on tier are piled the cotton
hales, ready for shipment to all parts of
the world. Air. Horace Bradley in this
number prerents a cotton field in full
bloom, with tho hands hard at work
picking the snow-white product, and so
j is shown one of the most important of
all textile substances in its various
stages. The sidling of cotton begins
| in March and April, according to the
j locality, and ;'.l the close of July or be
ginning of August the real picking sea
son begins. This year in Georgia the
first bale of cotton was forwarded to At
lanta on the sth of July. From the time
the seed first sprouts until the plant is
mature, work is constant. In such
fruitful soil and with a semi tropical
climate weeds grow apace.
The cotton has to he gone over fre
quently with the hoe to kill out the
parasitical growths, and to loosen the
soil and give the plant air. Sometimes
excessive toil is necessary in order to
clear the plant of its greatest enemy, the
cotton worm. There has been many a
cotton field, presenting one day fair re
turns for the labor expended on it,
which on the morrow has shown but a
wide expanse of sickly looking yellow
stalks, the caterpillars having stripped
every plant of its leaves. Early blooms !
are visible in June, and impatiently do
the planter and his hands wait until
there are sufficient bolls to begin with.
The flower of the cotton is very beauti
ful, sometimes of n delicate straw-color,
and varying with the sun, being at mid
day of a snowy white, and of evenings
taking-a pinky shade. When the flower
j falls, at. once the boll begins to form,
j and the cotton is mature and ready to
pick when the boll bursts. Cotton
ready to In picked appi i- 'he plant
] at the sami line- with (lowers, and i>"i.
j ore continuous until tie- first frost ap I
I pears, In September anil October cot j
( ton-picking is in full blast. All hands
j start out early to work, and all provided
with baskets, sometimes with hags, Ex
pert cotton-pickers work with
great rapidity, as they are gen
erally paid by the pound. They
carry a bag, which they soon fill, and
then they transfer the cotton to huge
baskets. There is always a wagon in at
tendance. and the contents of the bus
kets are dumped Into the wagon, From j
the field to tho storehouse or the gin,
backward and forward, the full wagons
and the empty ones are always in move- {
ment. It is hard, hot work at times, and j
under a broiling sun. As celerity is |
everything, sometimes any animal that
can haul is pressed into service, and a
inule dud rtn os are occasionally attached
to the same wagon. Men a.id women
seem to enjoy the work, and through the
cotton fields they sing ns they pick.
There have been many inveiitionsdevised
for the mt!ehnnfcnl picking of cotton,
out nothing, so fur, has proved as es i
feet uni or economical as the hands of the
colored people. While the blooms show
their snowy fleece it is the object of the
planter to secure all the cotton he can.
Days of rtlln tender picking difficult, ns
i as the cotton then does not Mine readily
from the boll, and even when pulled is j
likely to be slightly colored. Tho high- I
est graded c/f the staple, those bringing j
the best prices in the market, can only
be picked in fine weather from the per j
feetly dry and mature cotton bolk
To the storehouse fir-t, and then
through the gin, passes all the cotton, j
itefore EH Whitney's time all cotton was j
picked by hand, so as lo t'icnn it of its j
seed and trash. This was very slow and j
laborious work, for with certain long- j
staple cotton the task of a woman was j
not more than otto or two pound* of
clean cotton in the eight hours, Eli
Whitney was born in West borough , 1
Mass., in 1765. Studying law in Savan
nah, he resided in the house of the i
widow of General Greene. Observing
the time and labor necessary to clean
cotton, lie at once sot to work to invent
a machine which would accomplish the
l task, and the gin was the result. There j
: has been no invention which lias been of !
greater benefit to the world in general 1
than the Whitney gin.—[Harper’s
Weekly.
Candor.
Poet A penny for your thoughts.
Beautiful maiden—They are not worth
it.
p. What were you thinking of ?
|> M. Os your last poem. —[Berlin
I Courier. ,
VOL. 11. NO. 3g.
Advancement of Set ne’o
Probably the most interesting' and In
structive meeting of tlie American As
sociation for the Advancement of Sci
ence was the one just closed in New York.
There was an attendance of from six to
eight hundred, and the papers were par
ticularly able and valuable. Prof. Geo.
P. barker read an intensely interesting
paper prepared by Mr. Thomas A. Edi
son on his now “Pyromngnetic Genera
tor,- ’ in which is advanced Jhe novel
idea of the conversion of heat into pow
er by means of magnetism, and, by the
same principle, the conversion of heat
into electricity. Os his discovery, Mr.
Edison says:
Since whenever a magnetic field varies
in strength in the vicinity of a conduc
tor, a current is generated in that con
doctor, it occurred to me that by placing
an iron core in a magnetic circle and va
rying the magnet i/ability of that core by
varying its temperature, it would be pos
sible to generate a current in a coil of
wire surrounding this core.
Acting upon the idea, Mr. Edison
placed eight electro-magnets in a circle,
all their positive poles in contact with
one iron disk, and their negative polis
in contact with another. Passing
through the disks and joining them, ho
placed an equal number of rolls of thin
corrugated iron, each roll opposite the
two poles respectively of the electro
magnets. He wound the eight iron
rolls with insulated wire. When this
simple apparatus was place 1 over a fur
nace so that hot air passed through the
rolls, they became straightway non
magnetic. Then he fitted a semi-circu
lar plate below the lower disk to shut
oIT the heat from half the rolls, so that
they became magnetic, and half, being
hot, were non magnetic. by revolving
this semi-circular plate the rolls were
first heated and then cooled, and by
this means electricity was generated in
the coils of wire surrounding the rolls.
Mr. Edison thinks that this devise can
he so modified as to furnish electric
lights fora whole house by means of the
heat from an ordinary furnace, and he
will pursue his interesting experiments
in that direction. The next meeting of
the association will he held at Cleveland
on the fourth Wednesday in August,
1838.
Too Fly.
“Say I homo use your telephone a
minit !” he exclaimed, as lie rushed into
an office on Griswold street.
“Certainly.”
“Hellol hello 1 Give me 0205. Is
I h it you, darling !”
(“Yes.”)
“Say, pet, 1 left my wallet on the
dresser with $250 in it. Did you find
it?”
(“Yes.”)
“Good I T’rnid I’d lost on the street,
big load oIT my mind. Shall I bring up
! those shoes?”
(“Yes.”)
“I’m dead broke, you know, but per
phaps 1 cm borrow $5 until after din
ner, so as not to disappoint you. Good
by, darling."
(“Good-by, sweetness.”)
“Say,” be said to the man at the desk,
“perhaps you overheard what I said, and
will lend me the $5 ?”
j The occupant pointed over hi 3 shoul
j dcr to the door.
! “What ? Skip I”
! “Yes.”
“Too old?”
“Yes."
“been caught before? - ’
“Yes.”
“I skip! Good-by!"—[Detroit Free
I Press.
—
How Fatigue Operates.
After a study of some years, I’rof.
Mosso, of Turin, finds that when fatigue
j is carried beyond the moderate stage, at
which it is decidedly beneficial, it sub
jects the blood to a decomposing process
; through the infiltration into it of sub
j ►lances which act as poisons, and which,
when injected into the circulation of
1 healthy animals, induce uneasiness and
nit the signs of excessive exhaustion.
When within the resisting power of the
1 subject, fatigue has its pleasures and
even joys, these being the expression of
the organic consciousness that bodily
1 loss of tl-s-K) is being balanced by re
construction. Mosso"a experiments wera
1 performed on Italian soldiers, and they
proved, among other results, that the
stature and power of the modern war
rior are fully equal to those of the an
■ cient Homans. —[ Arkansaw 1 raveler.
Opposed to a Third Term.
Judge—This is not the first time you
have been before me.
Prisoner—No, Judge, I’ve been here
i once before.
Judge—l’ve a good mind to tend you
| up for a year.
Prisoner—-Make it ten days, Judge.
You’ll never see me again. 1 m against
, a third term.—Tid-Bits.