Newspaper Page Text
Fitzgerald Leader.
riTZGERALD, GEORGIA.
— PUBLISHED BY—
5S»
Egypt’s pyramid-builders were can¬
nibals, according to Mr. Flinders
Petrie’s assertion. He has found bones,
picked clean and separately wrapped
np, in many tombs.
Uncle Sam’s official account of the
Civil War is nearly finished, 7 It wil'
fill 120 large volumes, and it has
token nearly twenty years to prepare
it. Its total cost will be about two
and one-half million dollars.
“While Colonel Hay’s family came
from Scotland six generations ago,”
says the London News, ‘ ‘his excellency,
■with that touch of scorn for pedigree
which the theoretical American pos¬
sesses, has not investigated the origin
of his family, and is unable to say
whether he belongs to the noble house
of Hay.”
It is not actionable to call a man a
spy- This was the ruling of Chief
Justice Van Wyck in City Court
Chambers, New York City, when he
refused to grant an order of arrest for
slander on such a charge, “Why,”
said the Chief Justice, “over in City
Hall Park is a statue to a man (Nathan
Hale) whowas a spy, and who is looked
upon, and rightly so, as a hero.”
The Italian hand-organ grinders in
London manage to make money out of
being fined. The process is as follows:
The organist defies the law against
playing at certain hours, is run in,
feigns ignorance of English, and insists
on having ‘an interpreter. The latter
is invariably a compatriot in league
with the Saffron Hill gang. His fee
ir 7s. 6d., and if the organ man is fined
2s. 6d.—the usual sum—5s. remains
to be divided between the two con¬
federates.
A Zulu youth cannot marry a girl
until he has whipped all her brothers
and given her father a fall, if de¬
manded, in addition, This makes a
courtship more exciting than chocolate
caramels and gumdrops; but the Zulu
maiden who has four brothers weigh¬
ing 180 pounds each and measuring
fifty inches around-the -waist generally
dies an old maid, while the girl whose
brothers are weak and sickly and
whose parent has broken his leg at a
primary is overrun with proposals. It
is a queer custom, aud if it were in
vogue in this country a girl who is
an only child and a half orphan on her
father’s side would be at a premium.
It is said that fans are going out _of
use. When one is heated and tries to
keep cool by rapidly moving a big
palm leaf in front of his face he ex¬
pends an amount of energy which
makes him still hotter and counteracts
the effects of the air set in motion.
Before tho days of the electric fan the
rich were able to escape from the heat
in their own houses by cooling the air
with ice. Large chunks of frozen
water were placed in airtight canvass
strips close to the ceiling and the air
allowed to descend according to its
gravity. This was the scheme tried
to lesson the suffering of ex President
Garfield during the last days of his
life. “This business of fanning one¬
self,” said the weather roan, “is
simply getting you all the hotter. If
an overheated person can’t find relief
by seeking some shady spot, let him
purchase an electric apparatus if he
can afford it and start it spinning.
This is the only sort of a fan that is
practicable.”
Elopements have entirely dis¬
appeared from fiction, and almost
entirely from high life, having, like
the generic term “lady,” gone from
the drawing-room to the kitchen. This
was inevitable when modern condi¬
tions crushed out the romance, the
post-chaise being replaced by the
livery-stable buggy, and the pursuit
of the irate father becoming a matter
of telegraphy and private detectives
rather than of thundering hoofs. The
well-born child of to-day (says a writer
in Munsey’s) is prudent and worldly,
preferring a sedate love, ushered into
a suitable establishment by “Tiffany”
and “Lohengrin,” to the most thrilling
escapade that ever-set the country side
gaping. And though one might rather
enjoy the squire’s laughing oath of ad¬
miration, and his lady’s uplifted
hands and eyebrows, the sensational
head-lines of the modern daily news¬
paper are less delicately flattering.
Moreover, in America the young
generation does so exactly as itpleases
that there is seldom any excuse for
stealth in carrying out its wishes.
Obtaining the parental consent has be¬
come a mere form, a gratuitous
courtesy on the part of the happy
lover, for the reason that the well-
bred girl of to-day seldom wants to
any one she should, not ..
OUR LATTER DAYS.
A cloudy morning, and a golden eve, ’Tis an old tale, beloved; wo may And
Warm with the glow that never lingers Heart stories all around us just tho
long— life; and who would to Speak same. totho snd, and tell thorn God kind;
Such Is our pause Is
grieve song? Do they not tread the path through which
Over a tearful day that ends In we came?
The dawn was gray, and dim with mist and Our youth went by in recklessness and
rain; haste,
There was no sweetness in the chilly And precious things were lost as soon as
blast; dusky gained;
Dead leaves were strewn along the Yet patiently our Fathersawthe waste,
lane And gathered up the fragments that re¬
That led us to the sunset light at last. mained.
Taught by His love, we learnt to love aright;
Led by His hand, we passed through dreary ways
And now how lovely is the mellow light
That shines oc calmly on our latter daysl
—Sarah Doudney, in Sunday Magazine.
I The Magic Breastpin, §
S ©
By L. E. Van Nooman. D;0(G
'.y
D)o(b
HEN I saw that it
was likely to rain all
A day I determined to
visit my friend Azral,
who keeps the vertu
shop on Wardonr
r street. I had sev-
‘ eral holidays hand
r on
aud knew of no more delightful way
of spending an idle hour than in look¬
ing over old Azral’s collection of vertu,
which had a great fascination for me.
The old man, who had taken quite a
fancy to me—-probably because I could
appreciate his love for the bizarre and
antique—and who even became quite
chatty at times, was a venerable He¬
brew who boa.fted descent, from David.
Contrary to the traditional character¬
istics of his race, he was frank and
open-handed—I had found him even
generous.
A fine old fellow he was, tall, majes¬
tic, with a long white beard sweeping
his breast; statelyand slow in speech,
polite, but not cringing, with that
self-respecting courtesy which Dickens
gives us in Biah, the “Godmother.” I
cannot say why, but he was my mind
picture of Aaron—he had a sort of
silent eloquence about him. Without
kith or kin, he lived in the love of his
relics, his children he called them.
And a rare and exquisite, but decided¬
ly diversified, family he had. ,
The shop, which was wedged in be¬
tween a jeweler’s on one band and a
second-hand book-dealer’s on the
other, was narrow and low, but ex¬
tended back some distance. On
shelves in the walls, on tables, in
drawers were spread the objects of his
passion in the most enchanting disre¬
gard for the conventional modes of ar¬
rangement. Here a shelf of old
Dutch faience showed stout burgomas¬
ters in blue and yellow. Next was a
shelf from which gleamed arms and
cutlery, swords, real Damascus blades,
of so magnificent a temper as to admit
of being bent in a circle. Here was a
bureau drawer full of exquisite ivory
carvings, crucifixes and amulets of rich
and varied workmanship side by side
with diminutive Persian narghiles and
squat Chinese josses. In the next was
agate from Japanese lapidaria, along
with wood fretwork from Geneva and
jet from Cornwall. Here hung a paint¬
ing of Cimabue, here one of Guido,
there one of Beniamin West.
To examine such a curiosity shop
was my delight, and I often resorted
there. He had lately bought a stock
of Moorish jewelry, and asked me to
examine it. ■ I eagerly complied, and
while looking it over saw a curious
breastpin that immediately attracted
my attention. A delicate little golden
heart held together two swords crossed.
The swords were each about three
inches long, one a Scotch claymore of
pure green gold, the baskethilt of the
most beautiful lace-like arabesque
tracery of gold interwoven with silver.
At the end of the handle sparkled a
tiny topaz, scintilating like an impris¬
oned sunbeam. The other was an
Eastern simitar, with broad, slightly
curving blade and an edge of some
white metal, possibly silver. At the
cross-piece of the handle there was a
ruby, and at each end of the cross¬
piece a diamond of the purest water.
The heart bore two inscriptions, one
in Arabic and one in Latin.
The Latin was “Gladii duo, cor
unum. ” The whole thing had a rich
exotic look about it that stimulated
my curiosity. I asked my venerable
friend if I might buy it.
“No,” he said slowly—“no, that is
not for sale; but if you like it I will
tell you its history.”
I replied that nothing would please
me better.
“That breastpin,” said he, “is a
trust confided to me. Last year I was
in the Holy Land with my mother, in
Jerusalem. Once on a journey to visit
my kinsman, Javan, at Damascus, I
came upon a poor Tjirk half dead by
the wayside. He had been attacked
and beaten by robbers so that- he was
dying, I got off my beast, and went
to him and tried to lift him up. He
attempted to speak. Bending close, I
caught the question in Arabic:
“ ‘Art thou a Jew?’
“ ‘I am.’
“ ‘I had some faint hope that thou
wert a Christian, a European, per-
chauce an Englishman.’
“‘I live in England, in London,’I
said.
“The dying man clasped his hands.
‘Allah is good,’ he whispered. ‘Do
thou lift my head up. I have a trust.
I will confide it to thee.’ Here his
breath came thick and I could scarcely
hear the words. ‘My father—made
me promise—to get this—-to—James
—called Thurs—by — Lon—it—nay,
by the beard of the Prophet, I will tell
thee, ’ he cried, starting up ‘it is—’
but the spark of life was almost out.
It flickered, and he had only strength
put his hand into his bosom and
partly drew it forth again when death
began to glaxe his eyes. ‘Allah Ak-
bar!’ he murmured faintly, and the
spark went out.
“He had taken from his breast that
jewel; the parchment around it said;
‘James Thursby, Singleton Cross,
London, England,’ and I must de¬
liver it to James Thursby.” The old
man paused.
“My wife’s father was James Thurs¬
by!” I exclaimed, excitedly. “He
has been dead these ten years, and
Singleton Cross isonr home.”
“Then if thou art really his rela¬
tive thou hast been blest of fortune.
Mine eyes would rejoice to behold thy
wife.”
The next day I brought my wife with
me to see the venerable Hebrew 7 .
“Daughter,” said he, after we had
presented indisputable proof of our
connection to James Thursby, and
given documentary evidence of my
wife’s genealogy—for the old man,
friendly as he had been, was cautious
about giving up his trust, and in that
he was, of course, justifiable—“and
so, my daughter, thy sire was James
Thursby. Then I have fulfilled my
trust,” and he handed her the beauti¬
ful jewel.
Once at home we were all burning
with eagerness to examine it more
closely. I held it up to the light. As
I did so the handle of the simitar
pressed against my hand, and click—
the swords uncrossed. They had been
set at angle of about twenty degrees,
and now they were at right angles. I
was astonished, perplexed. I tried to
get them back to their original posi¬
tion, but they were firm. What did
it mean? I turned the pin around in
every conceivable way, pressed every
part for secret springs, but no solution
of the puzzle offered itself. Much dis¬
appointed I laid it down, and my wife
took it and began to examine it..
In picking it up the point of the
claymore pressed against the table,
and her finger rested on the hilt of
the simitar. Immediately there was
a click as before, but— mirabile dictu!
—the jewel did not assume its original
form, but the simitar opened like a
box split lengthwise. That is, there
w r ere now two scimetars precisely
alike, each one half as thick as the
first one, joined by a most perfect but
entirely invisible hinge, and inside
was a tiny piece of very, very fine
Trembling with eagerness I opened
the parchment. Ha!—something writ¬
ten but in Arabic. What a shame!
But no; I would show it to my friend
the Jew. He would interpret it for
me.
1 looked longingly at the claymore
and tried to open it. I set its point
on the table and pressed its hilt. No
result! Then I remembered that when
the simitar opened the point of the
sword touched the table and my wife
pressed the hilt of the former weapon.
I believed I had found the secret.
Setting the points of the Saracen
weapon on the table I touched the
basket hilt of the tiny claymore.
Magic! Open flew the sword. In it
was a paper or parchment like the
other, but—triumph!—in English.
And this is what it said (I had to use
a magnifying glass to read it):
“In the Name of God. Amen!”
Then followed the regular legdl for¬
mula of an English will, bequeathing
to James Thursby or his heirs the sum
of $90,000 sterling, to be found de¬
posited in the Bank of England. It
was signed “Noureddin Aga,” and
witnessed with long Turkish names.
Then followed the name of a prom¬
inent London business house as agent
of Noureddin, and in whose name the
deposit had been made.
To say that I was utterly dumb¬
founded is to put it very mildly in¬
deed. It read so much like a fairy
tale that I almost looked to see the pin
take wings and fly off. As for my
wife, she acted as though she was be¬
witched. We sat staring at each
other in silence. She was the first to
speak.
“Stephen,” she said, “I think—”
but here there came a voice from the
door. “Where’s Sue?” it said, and
my wife’s elder half-brother appeared.
No sooner, however, had he glanced
at the table than he stopped short and
cried excitedly: “Where did you get
that?”
“We are just recovering from the
surprise it gave us,” said I, laughing.
“Look at it.”
But he had it in his hand before I
had spoken, saying as he picked it up,
“This is worth a fortune to you.”
I looked at Sue in surprise.
“What is it, Arthur?” she asked
eagerly. “Tell us about it; we
don’t understand. ”
“As I thought,” he said, as he
scanned the document in English.
“Arthur,” said his sister, fretfully,
“how can you keep us in such sus¬
pense?” replied Arthur, “it’s rather
“Well,” have it I
a long Story, but you shall as
got it from your father. The Thursbys, They
you know, are a very old family.
date back further than the Conquest.
The Jarl Malise Thursbigh, for SO it
was originally spelled, is said to have
been a Norwegian, who came to Scot-
land some time about the year 1000
A. D. His grandson Magnus was a
knight in the First Crusade. He
fought under Hugh of Vermandois at
tlfts battle of Antioch. During a
desperate charge Magnus’ heavy Nor-
man horse stepped on a wounded
Turk aud crushed his foot.
“In the heat of battle Magnus could
not stop for one man, though he did
remark the noble countenance of the
Moslem over whom he had ridden.
But after the Turks had been driven
back, and he, like a true knight, was
caring for the woumled scattered over
the plain, he came across this same
man. Magnus cared for him, nursed
him tenderly, aud they struck up quite
a friendship. Noureddin, the Turk,
was a man of affluence and nobility
of character, Before they separated
they exchanged weapons, Noureddin
taking Magnus’ heavy Scotch clay¬
more, and Magnus the simitar of the
Moslem.
“They met again at'Ascalon, this
lime Magnus being a prisoner. The
chivalrous Mussulman treated him like
a prince and had two jeweled breast¬
pins made by a Damascene artisan,
showing a sword crossing a simitar
over a heart of gold. Each took one as
a keepsake, and solemnly swore—a
strange compact it was—that when the
male line of either failed all the earth¬
ly possessions of that house should the go
to the lftot surviving member of
other’s family. Where did you get
this?”
I explained to him all I knew of it.
“I see,” he said, “the Turk must
have been the last of his house. I
have no doubt he had all his property
arranged in this way by bank deposit,
in accordance with the oath of his an¬
cestor made 800 years before.”
There is nothing more to be said ex¬
cept that I went to the bank, and found
everything all correct, and my wife
heiress to £90,000. My old friend the
virtuoso I did not forget, but made
him a present of the next stock of cur¬
iosities I came across. As for the pin,
it is guarded with great care and vener¬
ation, and brought out only on state
occasions.—Arthur’s Home Magazine.
Suicide of a Dog.
The tenants of Nos. 10, 12 and 14
Forsyth street, were badly frightened
by a dog, which they thought mad.
Henry Westey, the janitor of No. 12,
saw the animal first, and he says its
eyes bulged, its mouth frothed, and
its mouth snapped as it began to circle
around him on the sidewalk. He
picked up a child that was playing
near and running into the house,
darted into a room on the ground floor
just in time to save his life and that of
the child. For the dog, a small brown
cur, came with a bump and a growl
against the door. Then the dog went
up to the roof, the people in the house
shrieking the warning to keep out of
the way.
A few minutes later the dog leaped
off the roof to a shed five stories below
and .broke its legs. A man in the shed
-was frightened out of it by the thud of
the fall, but his wife from the window
above shrieked to him to hurry back
out of sight of the infuriated animal.
A policeman came and shot the dog.
Then a reporter arrived and began to
inquire among the neighbors about the
history of the dog’s madness. It is
possible he was mad, if despair, hun¬
ger, thirst aud ill-treatment can affect
the canine brain. For one of the
women remembered that the dog had
been seen on the roof for three days.
Sometimes it had scratched at the
doors for food or water, but it got
none. The women drove it off with
brooms and the men hurled at it the
next thing at hand. It was a pretty
clear case of animal suicide which the
janitor might have prevented with a
drink of water or a morsel of food.—•
New York Post.
A Sparrow’s Gratitude to a Boy.
It is a rare occurrence for animals
in a wild state to select a man for a
companion and friend, yet well-authen¬
ticated instances when this has been
done are a matter for record The
following incident is vouched for by a
young woman who is a close and ac¬
curate observer:
“Last week my brother (a lad of
twelve) killed a snake which was just
iu the act of robbing a song sparrow’s
nest. Ever since then the male spar¬
row has shown his gratitude to George
in a truly wonderful manner, When
he goes into the garden the sparrow
will fly to him, sometimes alighting on
his head, at other times on liis shoul¬
der, all the while pouring out a
tumultuous song of praise and grati¬
tude. It will accompany him about
the garden, never leaving him until
he peaches the garden gate. George,
as you know, is a quiet boy, who loves
animals, and this may account, in a
degree, for the sparrow’s extraordinary
actions. ”—Louisville Courier-Journal.
For Poor Travelers.
Switzerland has always been fore¬
most in the cause of charity. Recently
a society has been formed which has
most commendable objects. The State
subsidizes and the policef authorities
assist the operations of this society,
which has been foundedfor the purpose
of aiding poor travelers. In the canton
of Aargua refuges are now provided on
the main thoroughfares at regular in¬
tervals, where bonafide travelers on
foot, who are seeking work or who are
passing through the cauntry for a legi¬
timate purpose, can obtain refresh¬
ment and a night’s lodging. The
Berne Consul says the beneficial re¬
sults of the scheme are likely to cause
its extension throughout Switzerland.
THE HARVEST OF PRUNES.
AM INDUSTRY OF CREAT MAGNI¬
TUDE IN CALIFORNIA.
Estimated That There Are £. 1,000 Acres
Planted to This Fruit, Involving an
investment of *10,000,000 — IIow
Prunes Are Gathered and Dried.
The magnitude of the prune indus-
try 0 f California is little realized by
the people iu the Eastern States. In
a decade the growing of prunes has
gone forward iu California by leaps
n, n d bounds, and to-day $20,000,000 is
invested in it—that is, in lands, trees,
irrigation systems, agricultural tools
an q packing houses. Notwithstanding
damaging frosts last spring through-
out the lower part of the San Joaquin
Valley, and all over the horticultural
valleys of Pomona, San Gabriel and
Santa Anna, the total product of green
prunes now on the trees in this State,
says a Los Angeles letter to the Chi-
cago Record, is estimated at 83,000
tons. Of this quantity about one-fifth
will be shipped East as green fruit for
sale at fruit stands and for canning
purposes; the remaining four-fifths
will be dried for market, making about
24,000 tons of dried prunes.
Ten years ago the total area of bear¬
ing prune orchards in California was
less than 7000 acres. In 1800 the to-
tal area of bearing prune orchards was
13,000 acres, and there was an enor¬
mous planting of prune trees that year
in all the fruit growing valleys of Cali¬
fornia, because of the large profit in
the industry. Twelve thousand acres
of prune orchards were set out in the
winter of 1891-91, and 2-1,000 acres
more were planted in the next two
years. These orchards have now come
into bearing, and the State Board of
Horticulture finds that there are 53,-
000 acres of bearing prune orchards in
California to-day and about 8000
acres more to come into bearing. Con¬
servative estimates put the total crop
of California prunes in a favorable
year at not less than 90,000 tons.
The value of the crop has gone down
very rapidly in the last three years.
In tho season of 1892 good prunes
fresh from the trees sold for $35 a ton.
In 1894 the same product brought $25
a ton. This year the very best prunes
bring $18 a ton, but the general mar¬
ket price is $15 a ton.
When the prune crop is harvested
in August the scenes in the orchards
and in the drying fields are long to be
remembered. Thousands of men,
women and children throughout the
valleys of central and southern Cali¬
fornia are busy in the prune orchards
and at the fruit-packing houses in
these days.
A prune orchard in itself is one of
the most beautiful things in the realm
of horticulture and when the throngs
of workers are there it is an interest¬
ing sight. The thousands of trees are
planted in long rows, so equidistant
one from the other and in such sym¬
metry that ono may look in any direc¬
tion among them and the alignment is
perfect. The ground is soft and even,
and the years of monthly cultivation
and care have made it so smooth that
not even a pebble or a clod or a blade
of grass or the smallest weed may be
seen anywhere.
AYhen the fruit grower, who has
been daily watching the process of
ripening of his crop, finds that the
fruit is so thoroughlp ripened as to be
soft to the touch he employs a force of
workers. Great sheets of cheap cloth
are laid on the ground beneath the
trees. Strong men shake the trees
aud boys shake branches so that the
prunes may fall. The sheets are
gathered up at the ends and the fallen
fruit poured into padded boxes, so as
to avoid handling as much as possible.
Tree after tree i3 treated iu this way,
once each day, until the crop is gath¬
ered. The operation is often repented
once a day for twenty days before all
the prunes are harvested.
Meanwhile the gathered fruit has
been carried to the washing boxes and
the dripping caldrons. The t>runes
are put into great heavy w ire cages
holding several hundred pounds ea.ch
and are first dipped into running
water, where the dirt and dust are
washed away. In a moment more the
cage is elevated on a crane and let
down into a caldron of hot water,
heavy with concentrated lye. The
purpose of this .operation is to remove
the bloom and crack the skin that en¬
velops the flesh of the prune in order
that the drying process may take place
more rfoidly. In its natural state the
skin is so smooth aud tough that it
would take a week to dry the fruit
proxierly for market.
From the caldrons of hot lye
water the cages of prunes are lifted
again and once move plunged into hot
clean water, so that the lye may be
washed away and a gloss be given to
the fruit.
Then comes the drying process.
Girls and boys come with shallow
wooden trays a yard square and, as
the prunes pour down from a hopper
into which they are dumped from the
cages, deft hands spread the product
over the trays in the twinkling of an
eye. A little (ramway carries the
trays and fruit out into the drying
yard every minute and there on the
ground, covered for two or three
acres with some cheap fabric, the
prunes are placed for drying by (lie
sun. There is a strong sunshine
twenty-nine days out of thirty in each
summer month in the valleys of cen¬
tral and southern California, and so it
is the rule that prunes are well dried
in two and a half or three days.
A little army of workers is always
busy in the prune season in gathex-ing
the dried products from the trays and
carrying it in baskets to the sweat
boxes, where, after a week or ten
days, the dampness that arises from
quickly dried fruit has evaporated. extensive
Often a prune grower on an
scale may have in his bins at the close
of the harvesting of tho crop COO ox-
700 tons of dried prunes, while liis
drying yard of several acres trays' may be so
completely covered with ns to
look as if smeared a purple black.
The more extensive prune growers
in California handle as many ns
seventy tons of prunes in n day. It
takes from two and one-half to three
pounds of the green fruit to make one
of the dried product.
The active work of the harvest over,
the grower looks about for buyers for
his yield. There are always scores of
purchasing agents for Eastern whole¬
sale fruit dealers and commission
houses throughout the horticultural
regions of California in the fruit sea¬
son aud there are hundreds of local
fruit shippers in the State. The fruit
is sampled and tested for its sacchar¬
ine qualities, the firmness of the flesh
and tho gloss of the skin. Little bags
of sample fruit are sent here and
there. When a sale is made it is
done on the basis of the sizes of the
dried prunes. Thus there are six
sizes; 1, those ranging from forty to
fifty to the pound; 2, fifty to sixty to
the pound; 3, sixty to seventy; 4,
seventy to eighty; 5, eighty to ninety,
and G, all below ninety. An ex¬
perienced prune grower and buyer
can tell at a glance what size of fruit
ho is looking at and, of course, the
larger sizes are the more marketable.
Soldiers to Guard Buffalo.
The Secretary of the Interior at
Washington has under consideration a
project which will hereafter furnish
some of tho Fort Logan cavalrymen
with a novel variety of active duty in
the summer and fall seasons. It is
that a detail of Regular Army troopers
be told oft' to guard the herd of buffalo
which exists in Lost Park, Colorado.
There are still about forty of these
rare beasts alive, but if some immedi¬
ate precaution is not taken to protect
them against the depredations of pot¬
hunters they will speedily be exterm¬
inated. Late last fall one buffalo was
found dying at a remote distance from
its fellows, having been wounded a
number of times by rifle bullets. It
was put out of paiu by a deputy game
warden, and its stuffed frame is now
among the collection of rarities iu the
rooms of the State Historical Society.
This incident led to the discovery
that several others of the herd haj
been killed during the preceding sv. '
No trace of the marauders k im-
mer. v ,-ho
did the killing could bo discovered d,
nor could any effective means be d>(i 3
vised by State Game Warden -
the ^
guard against them in future. A g • ^
deal of indignation was aroused ther| ^ ” u
sportsmen and others who 1 eat
among are
interested in preserving Colorad ,
rapidly dwindling buffalo. As a 1 1
suit the scheme to use cavalrymen vI was
concocted, and James A. Miller, delegal ch . erk
of the Supreme Court, was .ted
with Congressn' •
to communicate :an
Shafroth on the subject. This acts,
taken by Mr. Miller on May 5. ■on
was
and yesterday he received from Cob ‘
gressman Sliafroth a letter, inclosing
a statement from the United States
Adjutant-General’s office to the effect
that the military buffalo warden pro¬
posal was under consideration by the
United States Department of the In¬
terior.—Denver Republican.
An Expensive Business.
Residents of the lower Mississippi'
have for mauy years felt the greatest*
concern on account of the washin ;
away of the banks and the necessity of
some means by which the currents-
could be deflected and stop the con¬
tinual wearing away of the shores.
Some idea of the expense attending
the keeping of this great body of water
within reasonable bounds may be got¬
ten from the statement of an expert
who has just finished an examination
of this erratic stream. Immense mat-
tresses or mats are made of willows
and underbrush. These are woven in
with wires and poles of various sizes,
forming an enormously heavy and ap¬
parently very strong resisting mater¬
ial. These mats are woven on barges
anchored’ out in the stream for this 4
purpose. Then they are slid off stones! intq#
the water and weighted with
Some of them are three or four hun-
dred feet long. Some of the largest
of them will cover eight acres, The ,
work can only be done during low
water, which fact greatly adds to
cost, as there is only a short seaj* >tm
and the work must be pushed to» ^
highest rate of speed. Sometia ag(J
after all of the effort, the firs';
water sweeps the whole structure
away, and all must be done over again
Asbestos Hope.
Asbestos formerly in use now has r
formidable competitor in the blue ^
as¬
bestos of South Africa. The latter i‘ lg
heavy, and furnishes k
less than half as .
liner and longer fibres, which have
been worked into webs but little in¬
ferior to those made of vegetable fiber,
are absolutely fireproof, and resist
most known chemicals, corrosive va¬
pors, and atmospheric influences.
A blue asbestos rope, three-fourths
of an inch in diameter, was weighted
at one end with 220 pounds, and ex¬
posed to a constant flame from a large
gas jet, so that- a considerable portion
of its length was surrounded by fire.
It only broke after twenty-two hours.
The asbestos rope has only two-thirds
the strength of a new hemp rope, hut
as they grow older the proportion
changes in favor of the former, sinoe
it is but little affected by the atmos¬
phere; The blue asbestos fiber is
also worked into mattresses for hospi¬
tals, which are cooler in summer aud
warmer in winter than those of ani-
mal hair or vegetable fiber. As an
experiment firemen’s apparel is be-
ing manufactured from the fiber.—
Chicago Inter-Ocean,
Sotne Eorulon Statistics.
An expert at figures 12,000 vehicles,
a quarter of them omnibuses, pass
through the Strand in London every
day, and the narrowness of the street
causes each of their 03,000 occupants
to waste on an average three minutes.
