Newspaper Page Text
SPRING PLACE JIMPLECUTE.
J. C. HEARTSELL, Ed. and Pub.
VOL XIII.
Uncle Sam furnishes forty-one per
cent, of the world’s silver.
There has been a good deal of com¬
plaint of late, alleges the Chicago
Herald, of pain and inflammation in
the third toe. Up to date no one
seems to have diagnosed the case
proper! y._
There is an indication of the extent
to which shorthand prevails in this
country in the statistical report that
daring the year ending June 39th,
1890, »7,375 persons received instruc¬
tions in stenography in the various
schools of the United States.
The Gila monster has only reeent’y
been recognized as a useful animal.
The skin is utilized for making a
fancy leather, The Gila monster is
one of the most repulsive looking of
the lizard tribe, and is the only mem¬
ber of its order known to be venomous.
It receives its common name from the
Gila River in Arizona.
J. H, Biles, designer of the ocean
steamships New York an l Paris, ’ be
lieves th it , in . .... “tin tmrd ., . - year of the
twentieth century," or within ten
years, the best transatlantic steam
ships will be able to leave New York at
noon and arrive at Southampton iu
four days. Such an exploit, states
Public Opinion, would require a speed
of almost thirty-five miles an hour.
King Leopold, of Belgium, is sov¬
ereign of the Congo Free State,
Africa; at his death Belgium will suc¬
ceed to his rights in the State, an l
wAl have the right to annex it. In
the State at present there is a popula¬
tion of about 14,009,000, of whom 711
are Europeans; of these, 338 are Bel¬
gians. Tha State is governed by a
central government at Brussels, with a
local government at Boma, the capital
o' the State.
General P. M. B. Young, of Georgia,
American Minister to Guatemala,
writes to a friend in Augusta in glob¬
ing terms of the fertility of that coun¬
try. “Just think,” he says, “of hav¬
ing to plant sugar-cane only every
twelve or fifteen years, aud coffee every
twenty years or thirty years. Two
crops of corn a year, and one hundred
bushels to the acre. Au l every vege¬
table and fruit that we have at home,
and many moie that wo have not. The
truth is that so much grows without
cultivation that the poor will not work
as they should.”
Professor Philipson, President of the
British Medical As-sociation, recently
stated that there are few diseases pecn
liar to miners. The pitman’s asthma
is much less frequent * than formerly.
Contrary „ . to . what , might . . . be , expectel
rheumat.sm and rheumatic fever rarely
affect the coal miner. The miners of
the north of England have an average
o , three .. years , oager life ,, than the ..
average Englishman, eight years longer
than the Cornish miner, nine years
longer than the South Wales miner
and onlv one year v less than that of the
- *
men of the healthiest districts in . the
kingdom.
The proportion of the sexes over the
whole world is said to be about equal,
although in separate portions of tha
globe it varies greatly. In the United
States, for instmee, it is estimated
that there are ninety-eight women to
every 100 men; in Europe there ara
rather more than 100 women to 100
men. Canada has ninety-five women
to 100 men. In uncivilized countries
the men are believed largely to out¬
number the women, this on account of
the fact that more men are needed to
carry on the wars in which such peo¬
ple are constantly engaged, and be¬
cause of the rougher ways of living.
In a recent magazine article, Presi¬
dent Harper, of tli3 Chicago Univer¬
sity, analyzes the statistics of salaries
paid to professors in 124 American col
leges. College professors, compared
with Pennsylvania mill hands, itseems,
are sally underpaid. At some iron
mills the entire laboring force are paid
quite 7 as highly as many college pro
fessors. Only i sv the i highest • s x class v of „
pro
fessors are to be compared with the
lower grades of responsible officers of
a railroad, industrial corporation or
insurance company. President Har
per makes a strong plea for college
pensions and thinks the average pay
should be raised from $1400 to $2000,
SPRING PLACE, MURRAY COUNTY, GA. SATURDAY.NOVEMBER25, 1893.
a refrain.
Vfbere barefoot once I careless raa
I wander now alone.
An I look across the treasured fields
"’hat stranger hands have sown;
But from my heart rise thoughts of one,
As streams unbidden flow,
Until I sing a sad refrain:
*‘I loved her long ago !*'
TiVTiat are the golden fields to me.
That stranger hands shall reap?
Their beauty stirs my heart until
Bain wakes from fevered sleep ;
An i as I homeward turn again,
With weary steps and slow,
I sadly sing, ‘’I love her as
I loved her long ago. ’
-r. McArthur, in New England Magazine.
Aunt Carolines Present.
'~2r ES, wc were
/ 7 really married.
The clergy¬
,
man, with im
^ pressive s o 1
KM enmity, ft n
nonneed that
ra]/}!i)])/J/ 1 I we were now
oue > an ‘l sanc
tioned our
™*h the
_ blessing church? of the
shook He
my han 1, and the tears stood in
hi 8 eyes as he wished me unending
J» he a PP‘ness. had christened He kissed twenty Eleonore, before, whom
and repeated years yon,'
again: “God bless ’
dear child 1” *
my
Then came the wedding guests, one
after the other, to congratulate us.
There was quite a procession.
The sixtu person in the procession
was Aunt Caroline. She is Eleonore’s
aunt, but I am quite as fond of her as
if she were my own. She is the best
of creatures, always ready to come
when you need her, and quite as will
ing to stay away when she fancies that
her society might be burdensome.
She is one of those generous, patient.
aunts who in winter always have on
ban 1 a store of goodies for hungry
niece.s and nephews; and in summer
are ever ready to take charge of a
particularly restless schoolboy or girl,
whose exuberant vacation-spirits
der him or her an annoyanoe to the
quiet home circle. In a word, Aunt
Caroline is a noble example of what an
aunt really ought to be.
“Dear Felix—Dear Eleonore,” she
said as she clasped our hands, “my
wedding present is so cumbersome
that I arranged to have it sent directly
to your house, where you will find it
when you return from your bridal
tour. It will welcome you to your
new home, and I trust it may give you
much pleasure, and daily remind you
of your old Aunt Caroline. ”
“It is sure to give us pleasure,
whatever it may be,” responded my
wife, affectionately embracing ° the
dear old lady.
A dozen times a day, during our
journey, we spoke of Aunt Caroline’s
present, and tried to guess what it
might he. Eleonore was certain that
it was a handsome bookcase; while I
maintained with equal confidence that
it must be a superb bronze ornament,
At last, after fourteen October days
crimson-tinted forests, ’ and deen {J
blue bay8> cnchantiag H un8eta an
C osy evenings beside sparkling hearth
fires in comfortable hotels—after two
weeks of Perfect enjoyment, we re
turned to the charming little home
which bac i been prepared for us, and
wb { cb was henceforth to be our haven
of happiness,
I kissed Eleonore when I helped her
^om the carriage, and murmured:
“Welcomehome, my dear wife.”
g be returned my caress rather hast
ily, and, running past me into the
house, said: “Now we shall see what
it is.”
Alas! we learned only too soon.
Rika, our maid-of-all-work, had illu
minated the little drawing room for
our reception. The handsome swing
ing lamp above the center table—a
present from Uncle Augusiue—was
lighted. Red wax candles burned
brightly in each of the
two bronze candelabra—Uncle Chris¬
topher’s present—on the mantel, while
two lighted student-lamps, likewise
wedding gifts, stood on the piano.
The light from all these served to il¬
lumine, and direct our glances the mo¬
ment we entered the room toward
Aunt Caroline’s present, which hung
directly opposite the door. It was an
atrociously painted representation of
the parable of the Prodigal Son, and
looked as if it might have originated
in a manufactory of “curiosities.” Its
true origin I never learned, although
I had ample opportunity to study it.
certain, however, that
dear Aunt Caroline, knowing my own
and Eleonore’s fondness for pictures,
and with her heart overflowing with
benevolence and affection, had pur
chased the huge canvas at some
paying for it a good round
sum, and consoling her sell for the ex*
travagance with thoughts of the pleas
ure the picture would give us.
The canvas measured eight by ten
* eet ’ The frame was a broad gilded
^ ^
In the middle fore
ground a group of figures in gala at¬
tire, represented and the returned Prodi¬
gal, bis parents the guests invited
“TELL THE TRUTH”
to celebrate the return. On a sort of
raised gallery in the background were
a dancing number of figures and cymbals,
and singing. All these per¬
sons were in a kind of pillared hall, to
the left of which was an abject look¬
ing individual in tattered garments,
feeding some swine with ears of corn.
To the Tight of the hall was an orien¬
tal butcher with a Turkish scimetar,
slaughtering the fatted calf.
Aunt Caroline confided to me after¬
ward, that it was because the canvas
contained really three pictures, in¬
stead of only one, that she decided to
secure it, adding with a triumphant
smile:
“You see, my dear nephew, you
have the entire allegory on one can¬
vas !”
And there it hung—taking up al¬
most one entire wall of the room in
which we had decided Eleonore
should spend the most of her time.
We surveyed the monstrosity in si¬
lence ; in silence listened to Rika’s ad¬
miring comments on the “perfectly
lovely painting;" then we went to in¬
We spect the dining-room, and my study.
speut the evening in the latter
cosy chamber ; I read aloud to Eleonore
Iiinkel’s exquisite “Gruss an Mein
Weib."
_ *" ^
^ ftt
„ 1,86 the study as a sitting-room, espe
cially when I had business callers. At
KUC ' 1 times the poor child would
bravely conquer her aversion for the
‘‘^digals”-thus l>1 peds and and she quadrupeds designated m both the
Pasture—and . with her back turned
resolutely drawing-room upon them, would sit in the
until my visitors had
departed.
We bad a large circle of acquaint
anoes - Gf course, they all called on
us ’ and Eleonore said she always felt
as if “Prodigals” helped her “to
do the honors.” Indeed, the picture
seem ®d to receive the larger share of
cur visitor’s attention. Some of Eleo
nore ’ B Inore intimate friends asked her
she had hung such a “very large"
P ioture iu our small drawing-room,
^ ome > considered it impolite to
make BUC b remarks, maintained a dis
cropt ' silence; while those who thought
'*• “«fO°d form” to talk about pictures,
al 'd to pretend a familiarity with art,
wou ^d inquire if “that large painting
waa t5le work of a Munich artist” ; or
remark that it reminded them of some
thing similar which they had seen in
Dresden—or somewhere.
Then there were some who would
observe that the same subject had been
treated in so many different ways—
tkat il was ver y “instructive,” and so
on ’ There was still another class of
art critics. It was composed of those
wil ° knew nothing whatever about
Pictures, but who were quite ready to
“Gmiro anything the moment they
found out that somebody else ad
mi ^ tt lt -
”°w, there was no one in our village
w ho was as familiar with really good
pictures . myself. When of
as any my
neighbors wanted to buy a paint
iug ’ or engraving, he first
consulted me; consequently the fact
t hat 1 bad the “Prodigal Son” hang
in 3 on m y wal1 was enough to convince
eveu ibose of our friends who really
thought the picture an abominable
^ub lu l4 i that and there tje 7 must exerted be “something themselves
-
manfullj to discover this something.
“How very natural those swine are 1”
ono say.
“ Jlls t »ee what brilliant coloring in
those clouds,” another,
“How repentant the Prodigal looks, ”
a third would remark, with the air of
a connoisseur,
* s reQ by quite interesting to see
bose ancient fashions Now, that
tunic is really quite picturesque, and
80 on > until m v P oor lifctle wife actually
-
Krew to despise these well-meaning
ar t-critics. ,
When I came home evenings and
found Eleonore almost worn out, and
would inquire tenderly what had
wearied her, she would only sigh,
“Oh, those Prodigals.” And really,
it was almost unedurable. But we
could not offend dear Aunt Caro¬
line—whose admiring gaze always
hung with devouring interest on the
mammoth canvas every time she
visited us—by cutting it in pieces,
burning it, or hanging it in the cellar.
However, after everybody had called,
and had been called on in return, there
came during a season of comparative peace,
which Eleonore went to pay a
two-days’ During visit to an school-friend.
her absence I had the up¬
holsterer and two of his men come and
remove the Prodigals into the dining¬
room; and when Aunt Caroline, on
her next visit, missed the picture from
its accustomed place, she seemed quite
downhearted. I, however, boldly de¬
clared that the light in the dining¬
room was much better, and that the
subject—feasting—was more suitable
for a dining-room than a drawing¬
room.
Dear Aunt Caroline! she had so
much faith in my reputation as art
connoisseur that, notwithstanding her
disappointment, she said I was quite
right to move the picture.
Now, thought I with self-gratulatory
feeling, Eleonore can receive her call¬
ers in comfort.
But I reckoned without my Prodi¬
gals.
Although the picture gave us less
annoyanoe in ite present position, we
did not become reconciled to it. Far
from it! but as I sat with my back
toward it during meals, and Elecnore
bad only a side view, it was rot so
constantly obvious as it had been, and
when the warm weather came we cov¬
ered it with gause—on account of the
flies.
It happened that the distingnished
botanist, Dr. S—, visited our town
about the holidays.
There were no flies at that time.
Our guest was a most amiable man,
and the friends whom we had invited
to dine with him did their best to help
entertain him.
During the soup he related a highly
amusing adventure he had had in
Egypt. When Rika removed his plate
he looked up—the Prodigals were
directly opposite him—and well-bred
though h( was, he could not he^p a
look of wondering surprise at sight of
such a travesty on art. Ho paused—
stared at the picture, then, turning to¬
ward my wife, stammered confusedly:
“I—I beg pardon, madam, but—
really I forg t—ah, yes—it was the
officinalis, an 1 not the inaritima; but
the two are very easily mistaken for
each other.”
Naturally every glance was directed
toward the object which had so con¬
fused the learned gentleman.
Eleonora declared that from the
moment his eyes fell on the Prodigals
the doctor talked to her as he would
to a child; and is certain that it is be¬
cause of that unfortunate canvas that
he did not pay us a farewell call, not¬
withstanding my assurance that he was
hastily summoned away by a tele¬
gram.
A few days later Eleonore went to
visit her mother, and while she was
gone, I again sent for the upholsterer
and his men, and had the picture re.
moved to my study. To do this, I
was obliged to take down about two
hundred books, together with the
shelves.
The light here was execrable, but
that did not matter. I priced my desk
so that my back was toward it, and
commended my visitors of taste to the
mercy of their good angels. On New
Year’s Day, Aunt Caroline dined with
us, and you may imagine her surprise
when, seated in the chair Doctor S-
had occupied, she looked up and found
the picture gone. She did not say a
word, however.
“We hung your picture—your love¬
ly picture, dear aunt—in my study,"
I answered casually, adding, in my
desperation: “1 intend to exhibit it
to my Sunday class.”
The dear old soul did not say any¬
thing, nor was she offended ; but she
appeared so melancholy that I was
conscience-stricken. Before I went to
bed, I tried to make amends for the
detestable story I had told Aunt Car¬
oline. I wrote to a friend of mine,
and invited him to bring his Sunday
class on the following Thursday even¬
ing, and drink tea with us. The invi¬
tation was accepted.
I received my friends and his
scholars in the drawing-room. I
asked the little fellows all sorts
of questions about their studies,
and Eleonore showed them our
photographs. At last came the wel¬
come summons to tea, after which I
invited the children into my study to
see the picture of the Prodigal Son.
The lamp3 were placed in the most
favorable positions. The youngsters
ranged themselves in a row in front of
the picture; I took up my station on
one side, Herr Diebert on the other.
I cleared my throat and began in a
didactic tone:
“This picture, my dear children,
is partly allegorical, partly realistic.
These two rows of columns on either
side of the centre divide the different
eras of the parable. Here on the left
you see the Prodigal, hungry and
wretched, sharing the swine’s food—as
the Scriptures tell us. Here in the
background you see them singing and
dancing, rejoicing over the return of
the Prodigal. Here, on the right, is
the butcher in the act of killing the
fatted calf.”
While I delivered this highly in¬
structive leture, Herr Diebert pointed
with a ruler toward the designated
object.
The silence which followed my re¬
marks was actually oppressive. At last,
one little fellow, Fritz Diegel, the
butcher’s son, feeling that something
ought to be Baid, stammeringly asked:
“Be them Hungarian or Bavarian
hogs?”
The laughter which followed lifted
the general oppressiveness, and, the
clock striking nine soon afterward,
Eleonore and I gave thanks for our re¬
lease.
These are only a few of the many
annoyances which Aunt Caroline’s
well-meant wedding-present brought
upon us.
Fortunately, there were some very
warm enough days in March—quite warm
study. to Onoe bring to life two flies in my
I should have put an end
to tneir premature existence. I did
not do so now. I fetched the gauze
veil and draped it securely over the
Prodigals. The next day Aunt Caro¬
line called. Said I to her when she
came into the study:
“Have you noticed, dear aunt, how
very early the flies have made their
appearance this spring?"
Annt Caroline had not noticed.
I should not be adhering strictly to
the truth were I to say that we were
$1.00 a Year in Advance,
not perfectly happy in our little home.
We were—even though there was
hardly a forenoon, afternoon, or even,
ing, that one of the Prodigals—either
the son, one of the parents, the but¬
cher or one of the swine—did not
somehow mix in our conversation. It
was not for this—although it helped
somewhat—that, when summer brought
my vacation, we concluded to spend it
in the Black Forest.
Those were enchanting days I
Eleonore embroidered, sketched and
read to her heart’s content, while I
wrote begun. diligently in a new work I had
Thus we passed six delightful weeks
with never a thought of the Prodigals,
when one morning Fate, in the person
of the postman brought me a news¬
paper.
“Are you Herr Treuberg?” he in
quired.
“lam.”
“From Immigen?”
“The same.”
“Then here’s something that may
interest you, he added, pointing to
an article in the paper. I read:
“Yesterday, in the town of Immi¬
gen, upper Bavaria, a fire consumed
the residences of Frau Julie Zieber
and Herr Felix Treuberg. The loss
is total, partly covered by insurance.”
I summoned my poor little wife, to
whom I communicated as gently as
possible our great loss.
Wo began at once to prepare for our
return journey; and as our train
would not leave until the afternoon, I
wired a friend for further particulars
of the fire.
The answer cams as we were leaving
the hotel;
“Fire started in the Zieber house.
Unfortunately very little saved.”
As I concluded this rather depres¬
sing message Eleonore clasped my
hand in both her own, and whispered
Felix, assn, ingly: “ vVe have each other, dear
W9 shall not be poor—we have
each other—and our love. ”
A few days later we
were in Immigen. As we drew
near to the station, Eleonore leaned
toward me, and said—smiling through
her taars:
“Felix, dear—we have one comfort.”
“What is it, my love?”
“We are rid of those detestable
swine.”
“That’s so,” I assented, “There is
never a misfortune that has not some
recompense.”
I had Bent word to a friend to meet
us at the station. He had not come
alone. There were several sympa
thetic acquaintances with him.
“It was so late,” said my friend, re¬
ferring to the fire, “and so sudden!
There was a furious wind—”
“But,” interrupted Herr Diebert.
“one thing will give you great pleas¬
ure. ”
“Indeed?” exclaimed Eleonore ox
pectantly. “What, pray?”
“You have to thank Fritz DiegePs
courage for it. When all hope of sav¬
ing the house wrs gone, he, and sev
eral of my Sunday scholars, broke
open the shutters of your study win¬
dow, and Fritz bravely entered the
burning dwelling and out the large
painting from the frame. That was
the only thing saved!”—From the
German, in Romance.
Nocturnal Creatures.
Most curious in origin of all noc
turnal insect hunters, however, are the
leathery-winged bats, which may be
regarded, practically speaking, as very
tiny monkeys, highly specialized for
the task of catching noctural flies and
midges. Few people know how nearly
they are related to us. They beloug
to the self-same division of the higher
mammalB as man and the apes; their
skeleton answers to ours, bone for
bone and joint for joint, in an extra¬
ordinary manner; only the unessen
tial fact that they have very long fin¬
gers with a web between as an organ
of flight prevents us from instantly
and instinctively reoognizing them as
remote cousins, onoe removed from
the gorilla.
The female bat in particular is ab¬
surdly human. Most of them feed off
insects alone; but a few, like the fam¬
ous vampire bats of South America,
take a mean advantage of sleeping
animals, and suck their blood after the
fashion of mosquitoes, as they lie de¬
fenseless in the forest or on the open
pampas. Others, like the flying foxes
of the Malay Archipelago, make a
frugal meal off fruit and vegetables;
but even these are persistent night
fliers. They hang head downward
from the boughs of trees during the
hot tropical daytime, but sally forth
at night, with Milton’s sons of Belial,
to rub the banana patohes and invade
the plantain grounds of the industri¬
ous native. The bat is a lemur, com¬
pelled by dire need to become a flying
night bird.—Cornbill Magazine.
Curlons Courting.
The Zaparos, a tribe of South Amer¬
icans, have a curious way of courting.
The love-stricken young man goes out
hunting, and, on his return, throws
his game at the feet of the young lady
who has smitten him, together with a
sufficient quantity of fuel to cook it.
If she takes up the game, lights a fire
and commences to cook it, he knows
his suit is accepted, bnt if not, he
tarns away, a Sadder if not a wiser
man.
NO. 39.
THE BROOK.
I Shall be great I From mountain peaks I
spring,
Of glacial walls where snows perpetual sing.
I shall be great I Where lofty rocks abide
I plunge the precipice and chasm wide.
I stall be great! Deep valleys ope before
The waters gathered from my vasty store.
I shall be great 1 The clouds through vaulted
sky
With flood tumultuous lift my bosom high.
t shall be great 1 So speak the sheens of
grain,
Of mead, of hill, of undulating plain.
I shall be great! Thus the decrees of man,
Of bridge, of ships, that all my waters span.
I shall be great! Around the earth at last—
I shall be great, an ocean, mighty, vast.
I shall be great I With roll of orbs and
spheres,
My vapor shall revolve through endles
years.
t shall be great! When thus my mists diM
perse
And by attractions form a universe.
f shall be great! Eat only once content—
To-day—a laughing brook, unthinking bent.
—William Hosea Ballou.
HTH AND POINT.
Outride the pale—The rogue.—
Puck.
Truth. A set speech—The hen’s “cluck. —
Golden hair is frequently plaited. —
Truth.
Physicians, as a rule, never treat
anybody well.
A great man is one who knows how
to make somebody else paddle his
canoe for him.—Galveston News.
The pessimist is a gentleman who
expects to choke to death on tha gol¬
den spoon born in his mouth. —Puck.
He dreamed he’d found the lost north pole,
And round it tried to hover ,
He woke to fln i the blankets gone,
His wife’s house plants to cover,
—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
Many a man who is asked for change
for a $20 bill would like to have a $20
bill occasionally for a change. —Boston
Globe.
“I can stand some slurs,” remarked
the cake of soap, “but the fellow that
made me gave me the lye direct.”—
Truth.
Very often a merchant is obliged to
suspend himself because he has “hung
up” too many customers.—New York
World.
His better half adorned no Legislature';
She shrieked and ran whene’er she saw a
mouse;
And yet she was ftrueto her woman s nature)
The self-elected speaker of the house.
—Louisville Times.
In many of the remote scion3 of
nobility there are traces of greatness.
But the scions generally jump over
those traces, and spoil everything. —
Puck.
Fair Customer—“Is it true that
milk is soured by lightning?” Thought¬
less Milkman—“.No; by thunder.”
And to this day he doesn’t know why
she transferred her patronage to a
rival dealer. —Buffalo Courier.
Racing With an Avalanche.
Let Mr. Tuclcett himself deserib#
that thrilling race for life.
“I remember,” ho writes, “being
struck with the idea that it seemed as
though, sure of its prey, it wished to
play with us for awhile, at one moment
letting us imagine that we had gained
upon it, and were getting beyond tha
line of its tire, and the next, with mera
wantonness of vindictive power, sud¬
denly rolling out on its right a vast
volume of grinding blocks and whirl¬
ing snow, as though to show that it
could outflank us at any moment if it
chose.
“Nearer and nearer it came, its front
like a mighty wave about to break.
Now it has traversed the whole width
of the glacier above us, taking a some¬
what diagonal direction; and now—
run, oh! run, if ever yon did, for here
it comes straight at us, swift, deadly
and implacable I The next instant we
saw no more; a wild confusion of
whirling snow and fragments of ice—a
frozen cloud—swept over us, entirely
conoealing still us from one another, and
we were untouched—at least, I
knew that I was—and still we ran.
Another half-second and the mist had
passed, and there lay the body of the
monster, whose head was still career*
ing away at lightning speed far below
us, motionless, rigid and harmless.”
The danger was over, and the party
examined the avalanche at their leis¬
ure. It had a length of 3303 feet, an
average breadth of 8000 feet and an
average depth of five feet. This is to
say, its bulk was 611,000 cubic yards,
and its weight, on a moderate compu¬
tation, about 450,000 tons. —MoClure’a
Magazine.
A Celebrated Abyss.
The celebrated abyss of Jean Nou¬
veau (Vaucluse) is one of the most in¬
teresting world. in France and perhaps in the
It is simply a vertical pipe,
three feet to twelve feet in diameter,
running down in tiie earth for about
five hundred feet, where it ends in a
kind of chamber, from which another
abyss obstructed by debris descends
for an unknown distance into the bow¬
els of the earth. It is supposed to bo
the vent of an ancient geyser.