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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.