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Grasses Decoration. • * Fine grasses are seldom found upon dry soil, but in meadows and un- wooded swales tbe seeker will find them in infinite variety. Other desirable water-loving plants, much prettier for drying than the fashionable cat-tail, also abound in such localities. Some of the daintiest ornaments of ladies’ bonnets are culled from th»se neglected wastes. As taste will be the guide in selection, it is not necessary to particul <rize varieties. For the time of gathering it is im possible to give dates, but grasses and their kindred should be cut while in the bud, a short time before the blos som opens—if later, they are apt to “ fuzz ”or rattle off. For treatment, cut the stalks of the desired length and clean off blades or leaves. Place the heads together and tie in bunches of a size that will dry readily. Hang in the shade till dry. Wheat, oats, barley and rye are also beautiful. I believe they should be cut while in the white stage of devel opment, which comes between the green and yellow. Experience has shown me that they work well at this age, at least. Treatment the same as for grasses. The one defect of all dried grasses is their loss of color. In a measure grains also have this fault. Some water-plants, like cat-tail, dry to a rich golden brown, but dried grasses have a dingy, washed out appearance, which can only be remedied by dyeing or bleaching. They are dyed by florists in all brilliant colors, but re Sued taste seems to dictate that the original bronze, gold or green be re stored. The process is simple and per formed with aniline dyes, which are for sale in various forms. Leaiuau’s liquid dyes are highly recommended and easily used. Full directions come with each bottle, and where they are sold a pamphlet giving further partic ulars will be furnished at request. For those who do not possess the skill of fl >rist» in shaping by steaming and manipulation, it is well to place the grasses or oats in an upright or lean ing position while drying after dyeing to avoid the stiff look of a perfectly erect stalk. Indeed if the grasses are not to be dyed, it is well to dry them in some such position at first. For arrangement there are few pret tier things than the little grass or grain trimmed baskets, called baskets, though they are in the form of any th ng else as well. Designs for every thing of this kind, both trimmed and untrimmed, may be readily found. If the baskets cannot be obtained, deli cate willow baskets, willow ware, toys, such as chairs, cradles, etc., may be utilized for the purpose. the cuts a pile of wood or brush is made at the foot of the tree and the tree is chopped down, the branches keeping one end of the tree off the ground, and the piles of wood at the foot of the tree doing the same for the other end. Thus the trunk is sus pended. The hunter, after carefully placing large leaves on the ground un der the tree proceeds to cut gashes in the hark of the tree throughout its whole length. The bark is collected from the tree and from the leaves placed under it, and added to the milk first collected. The sap, when it first exudes from the tree, is as white as milK and almost as thick as cream ; but it soon turns black on exposure to air and light if not properly watched and cared for. The quantity of milk which is put into one hole depends not only on the size of the trees and their distance apart, but also on the strength of the mao who is to carry the rubber from the camp to the river, and the track and trail he must carry it over. As soon as a hole has all the milk a hunter intends to put into it he coagulates the rubbsr by adding some substance, such as the root of “mechoaeab,” by hard soap, etc., and these substances cause the milk to co agulate so fast as to prevent the escape of the water which is always present in the fresh s^p; and as the rubber and water will not mix, a piece of rubber coagulated this way is full of small cells cpntaiuiug water. Of course, a piece of rubber full of holes is not as valuable as a piece of homogeneous rubber. For this reason Carthagena rubber is worth less than Para rubber. I have seen the rubber of this country made perfectly homogeneous, clear and transparent as amber. It costs no more to make such lubber than to make it full of holes, water aud dirt. It also costs no more to “pack” one pound of such rubber put of the woods than to pack one-half pound of porous rubber, with its half-pound of water and dirt. As soon as all the rubber-trees are cut down and the rubber coagulated, ihe pieces are strapped on the backs of the hunters by thongs of bark, carried by them out to the bank of the river, aud brought to market by canoe or raft. The value of the rubber export ed for the year ending December 31st, 1880, was 1335,113,- au increase over the previous year, due to the fact of the recent high price of the product. Of this amount the United Soates bought to the value of $238,393. Georgia Snakes. India-Rubber Production. Mr. W. P. Smith, U. S. Consul at Carthagena, Columbia, in his report on the commercial relati >ns of the country^) the United States has an interesting account of the production of India rubber. He says the rubber hunters have been in the habit of cut ting down the trees instead of tapping them, and there is great danger of ex terminating them unless they are cul tivated. He says: The trees which yield the larger supply of r lbber flourish along the banks of the Sinu aud Aslato rivers. Tbe rubber hun'ers before entering the woods provide themselves with guns, ammunition, flour, salt, ^nd tobacco The flour is made from plantains, whioh are cut into slices, dried and ground, aud is generally mixed with corn meal. This flour will keep sweet for months even in this climate. For meat the hunters depend upon the game they can kill. A roof of palm trees is quickly ma le, and every man starts out with his guu and machete each one in a different direction and alone, hunting for rubber and game. As soon as or.e finds a rubber tree he dears a space arouud the trunk, cut ting away all vines, underbrush, etc. and marches on again in search of more rubber trees, not returning to camp until night. According to the immemorial custom a tree belongs to him who has cut around ic. Tbe bunt is continued until all the trees in tbe vicinity of the camp are thus secured. Then begins tbe work of gathering the rubber. A hole is dug in the ground near the rubber-tree, unless some other party is encamped near, in which case the holes are dug near the camp. The bark ot the tree is first hacked with a machete as high as a man can reach, the cuts beiug made in the form of a V, and the milk (sap) collected as it exudes, and put into the hole that has been dug for It. After the milk ceases to flow irom We were sitting on the poi-tottlce steps at Ringgold, Ga., when Judge Hallam winked me arouud the corner and whispered : “ The old chap on the cracker-box is Colouel Slasher, the biggest liar in the state of Georgia. A«k him for a snake story.” I slid back, looking innocent and unconcerned, aud at the first oppor tunity I inquired: “ Colonel, are there any moccasin snakes in this rtate?” “ Billions of ’em,” he replied. “ Any very big ones ?” “ Well, I re kou ! Yum 1 Don’t talk to me about big snakes !” “ Colonel, bow long a snake did you ever see ? ’ He rolled his quid over and over and got both hands over his left knee before replying: “I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” " Yes, I—that is—yes, I would !” “ You know that snakes grow mighty fast down here?” “ Of course.” “ And that our swamps offer them a secure retreat?” “Certainly.” “ I wouldn’t have you doubt my word,” he remarked, after a pause, as ho squiuted his left eye at a spotted dog across he street. “How could I, colonel?” He rose up slowly, stepped down over the sand and paced off about forty feet, goiug over the ground twice and counting his steps. "When he had returned md taken his seat, 1 asked : “ Do you mean to tell me, colonel, that you have seen a snake forty feet long?” “Oh, no, no!” he quickly replied. “ I was simply pacing off to see if there was room to plant six hitching posts in there. The longest snake I ever saw measured exactly ten inches by the ru e, and he had been dead th;ee days, to boot!” Orange I isects. When a dish cf oranges is seen on the table for dessert, th« fact is hardly realized that in all probability their surface as the habitat of an insect of the Coccus family. This tiny creature is found on the orange skin in every stage of transformation, from the egg to the perfect iusect, during the win ter months, instead of remaining dor mant in the cold weather, as is the case with most of the iusect tribe. It would haidly be possible to find a Sr. Michael’s or Tangerine orange that had not hundreds of these little crea tures in various stages of development on its surface. Lemons, too, are fre- Rossini's Home Life. the skin of an orange will be found to be dotted over with brownish scar let spots of various sizfs. These specks cau be easily removed by a needle; and when under a microscope, an in teresting scene is presented, consisting of a large number of eggs, which are oval white bodies, standing on end, like little bags of flour, some of tbe in habitants of which may very probably be seen in process of emerging from the opened end of the egg. The fe male insect upon leaving the egg has six legs, two long hair-like appendages and no win s; it thrusts a sucker into the orange in order to obtain nourish ment and never moves again, passing through the various stages of develop ment until it lays its eggs and dies. In the case of the male insect, the chrjsalis after a short period opens and the iusect flies off. Tbe male is supplied with wings t a ice the length of its body, and each of tne legs has a hook-like pr< j-ollon. It has tour ejes and two anteume, and is so tiny that itcannot be seen when flying. From some parts of Spain orange i come to us having their rind covered with a coccus of quite a different type, The surface of oranges, iudeed, ai- fords the possessor of a microscope au infinite amount of interest and amusement. From the anteroom you entered the dining-room, a moderately sized ob long table to seat fourteen people fil ling it nearly wholly. To the right of it was the drawing-room where on Saturday nights the famous soirees were given, which brought together celebrities ot every class or section of politics, art, science or financial pcsi- tion ; at the left was his studio, in fact his he lroom—a square little place,con taining a bed, a writing-table, a Pleyel pianino and a wardrobe full of perish able linen and his imperishable man uscripts. On the little table in his bedroom he wrote them—on the big diui^g room table the copyist copied them, because he never allowed a man uscript to go out of his house. It is certainly incredible that he should have written the “Barber of Seville” in fifteen d*ys, not that there can be the slightest doubt about the sponta neity of the melodies streaming quicker into his pen than out of it, but pre cisely because, *1 hough writing very fast, he had a way of rounding the head of the notes, which took time, quently covered. Upon inspeciion, 4and writing a whole operatic scene in We see by the S in Antonio papers that the butchers have raised a Club. If their tenderloin stakes are as tough as they us* d to be they might use the Club to advantage on them. a fortnight does not allow of many wasted minutes. Yet another instance of quick slow writing was Alexandre Dumas (1 mean the father). He wrote his novels ou long half sheets, and he was beside himself with happiness when i brought him some large Eng lish blottiug paper, in sheets bigger than bis own writing paper, which he had only to turn over to dry it atouce. He wrote a wonderfully handsome hand, very long letters and seemingly slowly, as if painting, yet one leaf was covered after another in next to no time. Donizetti wrote quickly, to such au extent that when I saw him write lor the first time, I did not think he was writing music. He had a knack of covering the pages with dots like a telegiaph strip, and when he had done so he added the tails aud lines. Rossini used to set to work at 10 o'clock in the morning, having got up at nine. His toilette took half au hour, his breakfast, house gossip, etc., another half-hour, then he took his peu and wrote continuoui-ly. From ten to twelve, while he wrote, num bers of people came : some with letters of introduction, or old friends, and so on. H* was very glad to make the ac quaintance of talented young arthts, he received them with immense kind ness, giving them advice, and some- tiiues letleis. But wh it he absolutely lifted whh to be stared at as one of the sights or Pai is. Once his old friend Carsfl'i came and told him : t‘There is a Russian princess on tbe boulevard who waited two hours yesterday to see you pass: she wants so much to make your acquaintance; what shall I tell her?” “Tell her,” said R »ssini, “that 7 am excessively fond of asparagus. Rhe need only go to Polel et Chabot and buy tbe finest bunch she can get and bring it hete. [ shall then get up, and after she has well inspected me in front, I shall turn round and she can complete her inspection by taking in the other view too, and then she may go.” He was ra'.her fond, not only of asparagus, but of anything good to eat, and whenever he was sent some delicacy in that line, he enjoyed it in advance by unpack ing it himself, aud then he used to say with delighted looks : “Voila a quoi la glolre est bonne.” His visitors gone or not gone at twelve, he put on his wig, which until then lay quietly on the taule, his big bald head being cov ered with a towel tor the time being, then he uressed, and by one o’clock every day he was out: he took the first cab he met aud asked him : “Est- ce que vost chevaux font fatigues?” (“Are your horses tired ?”) When the unfortunate driver said : “Non, Mon sieur,” he never took him : he would never trust himself to oi.her but tired horses, aud during all his life never had he entered a railway carriage. Then he usually drove to the Palais Royal, in the latter days to the Pas sage de l’Opera, aud walked up an i down in the shaded galleries, meeting a number of friends and hearing with great interest all the newest gossip about singers, composers and operatic chat in general. I remember particu larly two instances when I was with him, having met great composers, and every time he said something worth noting Onceit wasGounod whohadjustgiv- en “Faust,” aud Rossini stopped him to say he had heard of the great success the opera had met with. “O maestro,” said Gouuod, “I am so happy to hear you speak of the success of the opera, because all the people speak to me only just of the Soldiers’ Chorus.” ‘Never mind,” said Rossini, “operas are not born like men, head first, the success of operas is born the feet first; that Soldiers’ Chorus is what the peo ple understood at once, the rest-will come in t me. I have often gone through the experience.” Gounod was barely gone when I saw a rather little man with very pronounced Jew ish features, common-looking, the shabbiest possible hat covering an evi- d ntly clever head. It was Meyerbeer; he steered with outstretched arms straight towards Rossini, whom he always approached with an humble mock modesty and deference, as if he held him by far the greater genius, and especially as if this oe r erence was due to the older man. Louis Blanc told me once that he was so struck when first set ing Meyerbeer with that particularly vulgar expression of Ins face. I cau not say that I found it so. A Jewish and a cunning expression I found predominant. Rossini had for Meyerbeer a sincere friendship .and admiration, and I give here the most peremptory denial to all the invented stories of his envy or jealousy, etc. I was with Rossini when be went to the Rue Richepause, where Meyerbeer lived, and where every day during his illness Rossini inquired how he was : and where, one day, the con cierge, with the brutality of common French people, answered Rossini’s in quiry, “M. Meyerbeer? Mais il est mort, quoi ?” Rossini fell back faint ing, audit was only when Meyerbeer’s daughter arrived, and he had cried like a child with her for half an ho lr, that he recovered himself and I took him home. He could not resist occasion illy say ing a little witty word for fun’s sake, but he never intentionally hurt auy body. I will not deny, however, that I know of a rather bitter thing which he said to the Abbe Liszt, who came to see|iim in his little room aud who improvised rather madly on the small Pleyel piano. When he had done Rossini said : “J'aime mieux l’autre.” “L’autre?” asked Liszt, stupefied. “Yes, Hayden’s Chaos,” said R >ssiui, “is it not Chaos you meant to repre sent ?” Liszt, excessively sensitive, was fearfully offended. Agricultural. Marketing Farm Products. Whatever may be said against oleo margarine, truthfully or otherwise, it is ah undeniable fact that since it has been put upon the market, butter has presented itself in better garb, sweeter, sounder, cleaner, and in every way more worthy of being recognized as a prime product of the American dairy. Mr. S'arr, ol Eijho Farm, was one of the first to get a dollar a pound for the delicious butter sent to New York, Boston and other cities. This came to market in neat half-pound packages wrapped in snow-white linen, and was as fragrant and sweet as the June grasses upon which the cows are fed. If there is a paradise for cows on earth Echo Farm is one, and a worthy model, creditable to the heart of a hu mane farmer. Now, we have many dairies sending sweet, waxy, golden a id aromatic but ter to the market, perfectly gratifying the most fastidious taste of our citizens. These dairies and these products honor such names as Havemeyer, Coe, Cro- zier, Holly, Dinsmore, Park, Valen tine, and scores of others. The great Western btates are wor thy competitors in gilt-edgrd butter. Cheese, eggs, poultry and fruits, put up in a neat manner, are always ac ceptable to the purchaser, and bring remunerative prices to the producer. In Baltimore aud Philadelphia, for marry years, poultry came to market nicely drawn, fresh, sweet and ready for the cook ; and now, in New York and Boston, tne hotel-keepers demand drawn poultry. They are posted in su.'h matters, for they cater to the most extravagant tastes; and a man who knows how to keep a first-class hotel knows what human provender should be. Compare our first-class retail gro ceries now with what they were twenty years ago. The demands of consumers require goods neatly put up, the stores to be kept clean, and the clerks aproned in immaculate white. In fact, some of the spruce clerks now wax their mustaches, a la Napoleon III., to please the ladies. The neat and tasty marketing of farm products pays a handsome profit, on all the extra taste and labor be stowed upon them. Our best merchants understand the art of displaying their goods and the profit it brings. A visit to Thurber’a will convince the most sceptical. In this house, where twenty millions are annually sold, the goods are put up in the best possible style. Even the canned goods are radiant with colors and ridh in gilt. The packages of coffee, tea and spices are clothed with beautiful pic tures of the Oriental shrubs that pro duced them. Thuiber’s labels are ex quisite specimens of taste and art. “Straws tell which way the wind blows.” Let farmers’ wives and daughters tastefully decorate the packages of farm products and they can afford to dress in silk.—American Dairyman. Effects of Cold on Exotic Birds. ‘ Fellow-citizens,” said a street-cor ner orator, standing on a dry goods box amid the glare aud smoke of many torches, “my position upon this question is a peculiar one.” And just then, when the box caved in and let him down in the shape of a letter V, gripped by the neck and heels, the crowd rather thought it was. An artist paiuted a cannon so nat urally that when he win fiuishing the touch-hole It weut ofl—at a very good price. Some observations of the effects of cold on birds in tbe valley of the Marne during the winter of 1879-’80 have been lately published by M. Leseuyer and M. Mllne-Euwards, it seems that exotic birds, such as peacocks, silver and golden pheasants, suffered little from cold, though they had little shelter, some perchiug at night on.x trees or on the iron bars of inclosuree. On the other hand, fowls in well-shel tered inclosures died in great numbers. A still more singular fact is the resis tance of Australian cockatoos to cold. Several of these birds remained from October to M irch in the open air in a, large cage, which is occupied in sum mer by monkeys; there was no shel ter, except a building on tbe north side, yet all the birds bad continued gtod health. Their feet were often on iron bars, the temperature of which was so low that water froas immedi ately when poured on the metal. The black swans of Australia aud the cos- coroba of South America did not suf fer, and in spring they set about constructing their nests; though frequently in the winter mornings the keepers had to detach them from the ground to which their feathers had been frozen. The cassowaries of Australia wereofteu, during the night, entirely covered with snow; but in the morning they shook their wings aud seemed none the wopne. In a word, the cold was more hurtful to mauy^udigenous birds ihan to species imported from hot climates but of more robust constitution. V