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A * A HARP Publi*r.»r.
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VOLUME V.
T II E
fVEBS EXAMINER
P „Ii«b«! »vei 7
CONYERS, GEORGIA,
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1 ALL AT THE
IAILR0AD restaurant.
'Under the Car Shed,)
ATLANTA, GA.
Lit All tho delicacies the beat of of the style season and
be furnieqed in
L&p M any furnished establishment at allbours in the of city the
rMeal* A DURAND. unei.20
I BALLARD
Couniti Dust*
Lxdenskjold. the in arctic the dust regions, which found he
| Lin cW d jmali i B white grains which he
Iribed as “cryoconite.” of these It grains was
By (j>e from the presence
inferred its origin to be cosmic,
Jh, consequently not found pertaining spherules to our of
(with Silvestri
nickel in some dust that fell
(atania, and assumed from that
umstanoe that it must be meteoric,
bimens of the cryooonffe and the
miau dust, together with Kiel, some ob
ed from the snow near were
mtly submitted to the eminent
eralogist, Von Lasaulx, and that
tkmitn, as the result of his examina
, has announced his opinion that
dust is not of cosmic origin at all,
•Imply detritus derived from the
is on tn e w th’s surface. The cry
ite he found to be pr ncipally com
d of quartz and mica, two minerals
:h are almost uuknowti in rne .eor
There were no mineral particles
ent which would indicate a cos
i\ origin. Hence he concludes that
t dust may undoubtedly have come
a |l” tuc The jpahw region of Green
i constituents of wh ch
Cutan an dust was made up
m, with the exception of the iron
licJes sueti as mi^ht have their or
I w/th'u Sicily. Mount iEtna would
the aiigito and ol vino ervsta s
min it, Finaly, in the dust brought
1 Kiel there was no race of m n-
1which would indicate a non-ter
particles origin, with the exception of a
of metallic iron which
d be attracted with tho magnet,
we now group the observations of
various dust masses precipitate l
5 wie atmosphere, it first appears
. >n nearly the whole mass, these
. , es ( | U8 t consist be of mineral
1 ed , detritus very well re¬
as a of rooks more or
?"■’ 8 m J toe metallic iron, pm
r ’ U tt ver -Y small quanti
^be^detad at th is conclusion, eosmio.” M. Having
, v.m
wigoes f on to prove how th e pr s
f >y °. Indicate wetallio iron does not nects
mp, "JL? . a ^mlo origin. The
lroa frmid at Ovi ak, in
nv iL h-iU khonti ln tk e opinion of
h ® s ' terrestrial origin;
t tkat ajsumptihn were reasonable
lys '’Journal **** ° 0aM bloc oi J^ h mu4 ^
^It'fplnjv With Serpents.
Bell, th, Smithsonian Institute's
“■ W« last collecthn of
r|, ed ! “^iwi/nmler’iiiMieatme^tr
-ribisU-« h ‘“if lor coz v 8 Pobs
* el Up tS’nr ftn !• ° toem tkBt with ll ® - 0U g ht
*e straw sleepy some
il of a ,. 0 ’ { i . Kht man in a warm
dsh d tl, e Prv>ft*,' iJ 18 ,red DOt , 0V0I on musically, '-°bliging.
k» • reptiles
K une a mob & l cr* wded
biwed r ’th qUarre ed fought a
kge; onu’ml th *
k « * professor did not
dightlv , an< ^'cn he would
* ‘•" h *
I "P-niiT- LT to ,“l»*k « l' UU '1
pntle wavm ” U,e ’ UJ - There was
p-ciothe* Ft J,?* 6 . au n '* day-bank down of the
m aioted SWietlmg *bo.. r himself Her¬
SUd C om
l^thewarm f( , ; ,en ff bo slapped
8 0 * iliS toigid length
r Pr fe ;* ar ® a<io ) s of the profess r.
■ 1“^ ^ ^in in lw chV Bt , hered a v, °leut handful remark. of
!STA ci i a
C E* ,U ^bed-oVttk and 0 1 T ’ depositing toon throwing them
[ ^ ;
(fc l tat s-p? i es be administered a
tbo A V l 0 toe whwhlp flyiu
rtecoum ^>"“8 °- tbe other l..mp end of
^•loathe ktraekinx in its
W oii tfc f om its
FWa {i * fra ^ ile skull of
H ™ OHrdb « ild er.
^VS?* _ hanged! ‘TU ’ exclaimed
dre L share my bed
6 * the bWt & u’t drive me out.”
n ®8ts inter ^ over A
' and Unibed » f*,. ««, e bod-posts Pm™ of little ther red
? soon ake on e
cooojj . herder and snakes,
ul
^taooabvP Past J 1 ® *8° roved miracles to this is
S'Ch retu,n me
I lift i of umbre lla
n
*
The Conyers Exa n
TO MY BED.
Let poets strike the tuneful wire
In scornful Beauty's praise,
Far be from me the vain desire
To emulate their lays.
A softer subject fills my brain,
To Inspires my bed, grateful song—
thoe, my thiB humble strain,
These homely rhymes belong;.
My Of earliest friend! bow many hours
rest l owe to thee!
When friends are cold, and fox-tune lowers,
Thou still art true to me.
'Tis said that love's an empty sound.
And friendship’s but a name;
But thee, my bed. I’ve ever found,
Night after night, the same.
Visions of Infancy arise. \
Of nursery days lone fled.
Of rosy cheeks and sieepy eyes.
And tucking up in bed:
A kiss, and then a soft good-night, 15
And heavy eyelids clos'nsr:
Who has not known the slumber, light.
Of childhood thus reposing!
Sometimes to lie awake, and watch
Tb * moonshine on the floor.
Or with a rapt attention catch
The creak of distant door;
Or. if in wlnter-tlrne, to peep
The el aed curtains through.
And see the fire, while footsteps creep,
And lights go to and fro.
’Twas so in ohildbood. Then In youth
To thee, my bed, I owe
The dreams, how far surpassing truth!
That youthful sleepers kn>w.
Dreams of true love and friendship warm,
That only come at night;
The dawning day d spels the charm,
And fades the vision bright.
When wearied with the discontent
Ot others, or my own,
Such consolation thou hast lent
That ail my cares have flown.
And J have risen on the morn.
With purpose go >d and strong
That virtu j should my life adorn.
Content to me belong.
And In that time when ‘oars are shed.
And daylight looks 1 ke folly,
CaJm rest I find on tliee, my bed*
Alone with melancholy.
Then times and places, scenes I traee.
For ever pass d by,
And friends who’ve run their earthly race,
And rest them in the sky.
Thus have I shown fn rhymes uncouth
How thou, my bed, hast been,
Through playful childhood, hopeful youth
a friend In every scene.
On tir e, her qulet place of res?;,
How sorrow oeas -d to weep.
How anger fled the ruffled breast,
And yielded up to sleep.
And now, when ovonirur breezes blow.
And friends are hovering: by.
And a«o or s ok ness lays mo low,
Ana warns me 1 must die,
Gently My old, 1 hope to rest 01 thoe,
That my earliest friend,
where youn* life first greeted me
Our fellowship may end.
— Isvndtin rJet j t
MISS BECKY’S “HOME-*
Miss Becky was going to the ‘Old
Ladies’Home” at last I t was a sorry
fact, but there was nothing else for her
to do, it seemed. Who would think of
offering almost helpless any other home to a poor,
old woman who had
outlived her usefulness? Having passed
her days in other peoples houses, so to
speak, she might not mind it as much,
perhaps, “Yes,” as a more fortunate being.
she said, “there's a vacancy
in the “Old Ladies’ Home,” and the
hundred dollars that Parson Amory left
me will pay ray way in, but it wouldn’t
last me long if 1 began to spend it, you
know, and I shall have a warm bed and
about my regular where meals without worrying
the next one’s com ng
from. I’m most tired worry ng about
ways and means. Seems as though I
have been about it all my life; ever
since fa; her was taken with heart dis¬
ease that the hearing the class in algebra. Now
rheumatism has pot the better
of me, so that I can’t work in cold
weather, and the doctor says it’ll draw
my fingers it doesn’t up so that l can’t use them
soon, seem as if there was
anything the Home—and left for me in this world but
I ought to be thankful
for that!”
Miss Becky had had other expeo ta
tions In her heyday, when voung Larry
Rogers met her and carried her basket;
when his strong arm paddled her down
the broad river to church on Sunday
the mornings; cho when they sang together in
r from the same hymn-book;
when they loitered homeward in the
fragrant whip-poor-will summer complain, dusk, and aud heard startled ihe
the hre-tlies in the hedges as they
brushed by. It sometimes see riled to;
Miss Becky as if all this had hap¬
pened * another
in planet, She
was young with a bloom
on her eheelc; but although the rheuma¬
tism had bent her figure and rendered
her more or less helpless at times, yet
her dark, velvety eyes looked out like
•oft stars, and the ghost of a dimple
still bickered on cheek and chin in spite
of her sixty odd years. Miss Becky b
father had been the district school¬
teacher in those far-off days of her girl¬
hood. He had taught her the simple
lore at his command, but it was Larry
Rogers hour, who had 1 aught her music, old hour
a ter in the empty school
house: they had practiced the together, bla k
while he wrote the score on
board. But ail this had not bufficed to
enable her to earn a livelihood. Her
education, musical and otherwise, bad
stopped short of any commercial va’ue.
In those days she Lad nexer expected
brow. to earn Larry her'livi.g by the sweat give her of her
was go ng to ev
en thing. How trivial the little uarrel
seemed to which circumvented this
fine resolve of his! But what magni
tude it had assumed at the time! On his
return busybodv from a trip had to whis^red a ne ; ghboringoitv,
some to driving Larry
that Miss Becky had been seen
with Squire Eustis’ son Sara behind his
trotters. Sam was iust home from col
tege, a harum-scarum ’eliow they said,
who made love right and left and gam
bled a bit; and when Larry reproached
her with it she had not denied; she had
simply said: “Whatthen? If you choose
to listen to gossip rather than wait till I
tell vou_”
“But vou didn't tell me, and I’ve been
'
. • »»
“ I bad forgotten aU about it till you
reminded me.’ ’ said Becky.
“It’s such an overy-da> Eusti:”-which : affair for you
to drive wl;h Sam in
credulity condescend so stung Becky that she would had
not to explain that she
carried some needle-work up to Squire
Eustis’which she had been doing for his
wife, and that as she left to walk home
Bam was and just starting dapple-grays, off with his smart
chaise new Miss aud the
Squire had said: “Take Becky
home. Sam, and show her their paces ”
and how site had been ashamed to re
fuse the kindness, thousand although times; preferring and hSw“
to walk a Sam had been the
once in the chaise, begged
pink of courtesy, and had S her
to drive over with him *o *rson
aU* out » hez way,
ERROR CEASES TO BE DANGEROUS WHILE TRUTH IS LEFT FREE TO COMBAT !T, M
CONYERS, GA„ FRIDAY DECEMBER 22, 1882.
| don’t “that Lucy disdain Amory ma> see that you
| see,’’ my company. For you
said Sam, who was not as black
| as he was painted, or as many liked to
will; suppose, “Lucy can make me what she
without her I shall be nothin® 1 and
of nobody; wild things but they’ve told her all Sinds
about me; they’ve told
her she might as well jump into the
river as marry such a scapegrace. And
perhaps know if I made her a little jealous—
you there’s no harm in that, is
there? All's fair in love; and, perhaps,
if the old folks see me driving about
with Miss Becky Thorne, my stock may
go up, and 1 may be ‘saved from the
burning,’ And Becky as Parson Amory says.”
had consented: how
could she refuse to do a service for
arch a true lover? So slight a thing,
too! She had often traversed the same
road since on loot, on her daily rounds
of toil and mercy. Sam Eustis had
married Lucy Amory years ano, and
was the foremost man in the county to¬
day. Strange how that friendly drive
had interfered with Miss Becky’s pros¬
pects; how the simple fact of carrying
home Mrs. Eustis’ needlework should
have determined her fate, and devoted
her to a life of hardship and the “Old
Ladies’ Home” at the end! Talk of
tribes! Poor Miss Becky! she remem¬
bered that ( nee or twice the opportu¬
nity had offered when she might have
made it up with Larry: but pride, or a
sort of fine reserve, had locked her lips
—I arrv ought to know that she was
above silly nirtations. Once, when they
met they all at Lucy Amory’s wedding, when
went out into the orchard while
the bride planted a young tree, and the
guests looked for four-leaved clovers,
she had found herself—whether by ac¬
cident or design she could not tell—-on
the grass beside Larry; their fingers
met over the same lucky clover, their
eyes met above it, and for an instant
she had it on her tongue’s end to con¬
fess all about the drive and its result,
Nell to put pride in her pocket, but just then
Amory called to Lany.
“Oh a ho rid spider!—on my arm,
Larry! I Kill him quick—do! Uh—oh
—oh! shall die—I shall faint.” And
that was the end of it
The old orchard, with its fragrant
quince bushes, its gnarled apple trees,
its four-leaved clovers, was a thing of
the past; a cotton mill roared and thun¬
dered there all day long, where the
birds built and the trees bourgeoned
thirty odd years ago. It nolougerb os
soined, except in Miss Becky’s memory.
She had turned her thoughts to rat dag
plants, when she was left to her own re¬
sources, but one cruel winter’s night
kiiled all her slips and the capital was
lacking stock. by Since which then she she might renew, her
had gone out for
sick, daily had sewing, had watched with the,
been in demand for tempo¬
rary housekeeper wished whenever a tired ma¬
tron an outing; but latterly, her
«nd §yes sewing no longer machines served her had for fine work,
been intro¬
duced; she was not so alert in the sick
room as of yore; she moved more slow¬
ly, and her housekeeping Ided talent was no
lonoer in request: a to this, the
bank where her little earnings had been
grow nigh and ng. dry. one day failed and left her
Some of her friends had
traveled to* pastures new, some had
married away, some had ignored or for¬
gotten her. As for Larry Rogers, he
had been away from Plymouth this
many a year. Somebody bad sent him
abroad the year after Lucy Amory’s
marriage lie had to develop into his musical genius,
grown a famous violin¬
ist, playing all-over the country to
crowded houses, before the finest people
in the land. It was a beautiful romance
to Miss Becky to read in the Plymouth
Record about “our gifted townsman;”
she seemed to hear the echo of his vio¬
lin when the wind swept through the
pine boughs. She had no bitter
thoughts; she she in did the not shadow, blame him be¬
cause sat because
her life had been colorless. She sang
again the old tunes he had taught her,
aud made a little sunshine in her heart.
All of happiness she had ever known he
had brought her. Why should she
complam? the “Old Ladies’ And Home.” now she was going to
“It isn’t exactly what I exr >ected in
my youth,” she said to the old doctor's
widow.
“No; but you'll and have the aniee room and will
a bright fire, and neighbors make
drop home-like. in to see Now, you there’s old it seem
Mrs.
Gunn. the Home, Nothing fehe can persuade it’s only her to go
to says a gen
teel alms houso, after all; and so she
rubs a ong with what little she can earn
and what the neighbors have a mind to
send in; and they have to do it mighty
g ngorly, too, of just her. as Lor’, if they she were doesn’t ask¬
ing a favor
earn her salt”
. • Now. ‘Z 1 . , if it hndn ,, , ,^umed t been . tor Miss therheuma- Becky,
tJs “’ 1 could earn mv living for years
3 et ’. and may be get someth ng ahead
^smjaid ., But m wa!t for the poor 11 tho and }™ r friend- ma T
s ‘
“ , You ought . . to . , have married . , when
? ox } were widow, young, who Becsy, had said the doc
s forgotten all
aoout Becky s lo\e affair, and labored
under the impress on that she never had
a chan f; an wh!ch matrons
are fP* ™tertnu . their
fr ends Be concerning ° k L ha l be en
’
pending some weeks with Mrs. Doctor .
Dwight, Plymouth who had her moved husband away from
after s death,
She was there chie ly in order to put
some stitches into the widow s ward
robe, which nobody else would do so
“ reasonably,’ ’ that lady s grief having
incapacitated her for holding a erial needle de
or giving her mind to the ma
tails of “seam and gusset and band.
But during the visit Miss Becky had
rheumatism, ^ en * e, * ed W5 which f. \ e i had fW kept her attacko in bed f .
fo / weak9 ’ i,U hfr wages were exhaust
ed K by drugs and doctor s fees. It was
at this time that she made up her mind
to go into the Home on her return to
Pl ymo uth.
Mrs. Dwight saw her oft at the , sta
_ . “I hope 11 fand the Home
won. you
cozy,” she said outside the car-wiadow.
“ It’s lucky Parson Amorv left you that
hundred dollars alter all. He might
have doubled 4 it.
“Yes. I svippose so. Miss Becky
answered that nfeekly. Perhaps kra. she Dwignt was
thinking it sh* were
1 * no old friend of hers aim-house should go door, begging
fora it refuge genteel at an alaM-hq^e were Per¬
ever so aa
comfortable haps she was thinking of the pretty,
home waiting for her
friend, and wondering why their fort¬
unes were so unlike.
,, Write when you reach Plymouth,
and let me know how you're suited,”
said Mrs. Dwight; and just then the
cars gave a lurch and left her behind,
aud Alias Becky turned her glance in¬
wards. Somebody had taken the seat
beside her.
“Your friend was speaking of Parson
couldn't Amory and Plymouth,” said he. “I
Plymouth help myself, hearing. I was born in
but I haven’t met a
soul from there these twenty years. I’m
on my way down to look up my old
friends.”
swered “ Twenty years is a long time,” an¬
find Becky. “I’m afraid you won’t
many of your friends left. You’ll
hardly know Plymouth.”
“ 1 suppose not—1 suppose not. Have
you lived there long?”
“IP I have lived there all my days.”
“Good! I’m hungry for news of the
people.; Did Parson Amory leave a
fortune? He was called close. Where’s
Miss Nell—married or dead? I can seo
the old place in my mind’s eye; and the
parsonage unaer tne elms, ana tne
orchard behind it, where Lucy Amory
planted day, and a the young tree little on Becky her ’wedding Thorne
gown
wore—by-the-way, is she alive? Do
you know her?”
Miss Becky hesitated an instant
“ Yes,” she replied, “ I know her—
more or less. She’s alive.”
“ And married?”
“Well, no; she never married.”
“She must be sixty odd; she was a
prettj- creature, such dimples—I sup¬
pose they are wrinkles now! Where
nave the years gone? Is her home in
the old place still?”
“Her home?” said Miss Beck}', flush¬
ing a little. “She has none. She is
on her way to the Old Ladies’ Home.”
“To the Old Ladies’ Home! Becky
Thorne!” he gasped, “and!—”
“You seem to have known her pretty
well,” said Miss Becky, who was begin¬
ning “I to should en'oy think the incognito. so! I've lovedBecky
Thorne from my cradle; we had a silly
quarrel which parted us—such a trilie!
—when I look back. Do you ever look
back, madame?”
The twilight was falling about them;
Becky’s face had grown a shade or two
paler all at once; she turned her dark
ve vety eyes full upon him with a startled
air.
“You,” she said, “you must be Lar¬
ry Rogers!” Then the color swept to
her cheeks in a crimson wave. “Do
you know I never thought you had
grown old like myself! Don’t you know
me? /am Becky Thorne.”
Just then the train thundered through
the tunnel, and they forgot that they
were “On sixty the odd. ^ the Old
way to Ladies’
Home,” she wrote Mrs. Dwight; “I
w as persuaded instead.”— to go to an old gentle¬
man’s, Man/ N. Prescott , in
Our Continent
A Strange Tragedy,
A strage case is causing a sensation
at Scituate. Jonathan Hunt, eighty
years of age, w ho lived on Bay street
with his wile, forty years younger than
himself, had not been seen by the
neighbors for several days, and sus¬
picions being aroused by th% answers
of the wile in response to inquiries
about him, officers were sent to make
rived an investigation. they found When house the officers ar¬
fastened, and tho securely
an entrance was fore bly
made. Here they found Mrs. Hunt in
being a very depressed interrogated state of mind. the Upon
as to where¬
abouts of her husband, she informed
them that he was abed and then started
on a run. She went swiftly through the
rooms, shut the coming door to placed a fourth, when she
and herself agai nst
it, remarking: “He is here; you must
not come in.” »She was removed, when
the officers found Mr. Hunt lying upon
a bed, dead. Mrs. Hunt could give no in¬
telligent but said account he of taken her husband’s death,
was sick Sunday
night; blankets that and she had wrapped him up in
watched by him ever
since; but nothing further could be as
certained from her. During the con¬
versation she made many incoherent
utterance^ regarding the past life oi|her
husband andlierself, and convinced the
officers that she was hopelessly insane.
When Mr. Hunt’s death occurred, or
what was the cause, is a matter of con¬
jecture at the present time. It was
learned last night that he had been un
well for a number of days, and that last
Thursday found, he called on Dr. Yinal, who
upon examination, that he had
every of this symptom circumstance, of paralysis. In view
Hunt’s advanced coupled with Mr.
age, this is thought
to be the most probable cause of death.
—Scituate (Mass. ) Times.
manufacture —Figures giving petroleum the statistics of the
of in the United
States, received from the Census
Bureau, show that for the year ended
May 31, engaged 1880, there were eighty-six
firms in the business, with an
invested capital of $27,395,746, using
raw material to the value of $34,999,
ducts 101, turning $18,705,218, out of manufactured pro¬
whom the employing of $4,381,572 9,869 per¬
sons, to sum
was paid in w-iges.
—The number of square feet in an
acre is 48J560. In order to have this
area the piece of land must be of such
a length and breadth that the two multi¬
plied together will produce the above
number. Thus an acre ot land might
be 43,560 feet long by one foot broad;
21.780 feet long by two feet broad; 12.-
250 feet long bv three broad, and so on.
If the acre of land is to be exactly
square, each side must be 280 feet.-
Cincinnati Times.
Big —According Woods to Minnesota a St Paul paper, rightly the
of are
named, for they cover 5,000 square
miles, or 8,200.000 acres of surface.
These woods rontain only hardwood
growths, maple, hickory, including basswood, white and elm. black oak,
cotton¬
wood, tamarack, and enough other va¬
rieties to make an aggregate of over
thirty extends different kindv belt This hardwood
tract in a across the middle
of the State, and surrounding its north¬
eastern corner is an immense pine region ”}3,
covering 21,000 square mile<% or
440,000 «quare acres,
Pennsylvania Gas Well#
The steady decline it* the yield oil regions of pe¬
troleum in the Pennsylvania their
Is causing capitalists to turn atten¬
tion to the greater utilization of the
natural gas, which is a peculiar feature
of the region. The drilling of wells is
always attended by the appearance of
Inflammable gas in larger of in smaller
quantifies, but its presence is not a nec¬
essary attendant of the finding of oil.
Many years ago natural gas was discov¬
ered in Fredonia, Chautauqua County,
N. Y., and it has been in constant use,
both for fuel and light, at East Liver¬
pool, O., for twenty years, and no petro¬
leum is found in either place. The
presence of this gas in the oil regions of
has been one of the main causes the
development of the territory exhaustion to so cf great the
an extent that the
petroleum deposit has been accomplished
years before it otherwise would have
been, for its adaptability and economy
as fuel has permitted operations to be
carried on where otherwise they must
have been attended with loss to the pro¬
ducers. It takes from three to twenty
five days to drill a well, and companies
controlling the supply of gas furnish
fuel for the boilers at an average cost of
$1.25 per day per well. To buy coal
or wood for this purpose would cost sev¬
eral times as much.
Bradford and nearly ail of the oil
region the towns are lighted The and streaks,” heated by
natural gas. “gas a3
those districts are called where tho gas
is found without oil, are very extensive
in this field, and they were secured by
companies years ago. These companies
—the Bradford Keystone Gas-Light Gas Company and the
and Heating Com¬
pany—furnish ply. They nearly chartered all of the gas sup¬
The latter are by the State.
with light company aud supplies this city
heat. Its principal
“streaks” are the Rixford and the West
Branch. The former is seven nailer
southeast of this city, and the latter lies
two miles to the southwest. Six wells
take the supply from these streaks,
three on each. The Rixford gas is col¬
lected in immense iron reservoirs at the
wells, whence it is forced to Bradford
through the iron pipes. For four miles of
distance the pipes are six inches in
diameter, and for the other t wo miles
eight inches. From the West Branch
wells the gas reaches the city through
eight-inch The pipes by its natural force.
pressure of this gas at Bradford is
six pounds and a half to the inch. In¬
genious pumps of recent invention force
the gas from the Rixford receivers,
where it has a pressure of forty pounds
to the inch. Less than a year ago the
Rixford gas reached this city by its nat¬
ural force at the wells—a force sufficient
to cubic supply Bradford with one million
feet. To drive the gas that dis¬
tance now requires the use of a four
hundred-horse power engine, and the
natural force of 170 pounds to the inch
has declined to twenty-five. The ma¬
chinery for pumping the gas cost $50,
000 .
The natural gas is found in the largest
quantity sand, and greatest force in the third
oil and seldom deeper tha~\ fifteen
feet in the sand. It is present, how¬
ever, in all three of the sands in some
wells. The w’ells are drilled just as oil
wells ai'e, and gas territory ranges from
$T50 to $500 an acre. It is destined to
be worth much more when the finding
of gas may be calcula'ed on with cer¬
tainty. been In ithe Bradford field gas has
founa at no greater depth than
twenty-two hundred feet. It is used
just as it issues from the depths of the
wells, no refining being necessary. The
gas of some districts is better and cleaner
than that ot others, the Bradfoi’d article
being There is especially odor excellent in quality.
no from it in burning, but
before it is consumed it has the same as
petroleum. In buildings carrying it through the
towns and into the same sys¬
cial tem is employed and as in conducting artifi¬
gas, for illuminating purposes
is burned in the ordinary gas fixtures.
In many parts of the oil regions the
ground, pipes are laid on the surface of the
but in the larger towns and
cities they are buried. For heating pur¬
poses a pipe is conducted from the main
into the stove or range. The end of the
pipe in the stove is perforated to give a
outside spreading flame. A stop-cock on the
of the stove regulates the sup¬
ply. The the fire is and kindled throwing simply by lighted turn¬
ing on gas a
match in the stove. In grates the effect
of a coal fire is obtained by the placing
of pieces of earthenware inside. These
become red-hot, and glow with the true
anthracite cheerfulness.
For illuminating purposes a uniform
eharge of fifty cents a month is made to
tho consumer. Whore twelve burners
are In use a discount of twenty per cent,
is made. To large consumers, such as
hotels, stores, etc., a further discount
from the twelve-burner rate is given.
An ordinary $4 family parlor fuel, or cook stove
pays a month for while ranges
and large heaters cost $6 a month. In
the ordinary early days of gas consumed burning in the region
an stove about 500
cubic feet an hour. The subject has
been given much scientific devised study, how¬
ever, and a regulator by which
the amount consumed is much reduced
without affecting the heating power of
the fuel. The gas is not measured. It
is a matter of much surprise to the
stranger visiting this region to see the
gas ing all in buildings day well and on during the streets the night. burn¬
as as
No one takes the trouble to turn off the
gas. It is believed that the gas would
be consumed and wasted in other ways
even if it was turned off, and so it burns
from one year’s end to the other. For
heat and lighting the gas companies re¬
quire well-drillers pay in advance per month, but
pay at the end of the month.
five At one hundred time the drilling Keystone wells Company had
attached to
tneir pipes, Dut not one quarter of that
number are drilling now. The traveler
through the oil regions will see great
pillars in of flame high in and the mountains,
deep the valleys. depths of forests, down in the
These are made by the
waste gas coming from pipes inserted
in Many the of wells. the smaller They burn constantly.
light oil towns are as
the by nightAs they are by day, owing
to presence of these pipes in their
streets,
Natural gas at tLiiUag wells causes
many total accidents, reins of it are
sometimes suddenly penetrated by the
drill, and itissues with great force to the
surface. In such case it is liable to
become ignited b; the lamp in the der
0 * 8 moroVkSd inck
onhe boiter. It *
than anvihinar else then it mroirants of
tne derrick house escape with their lives,
for a frightful lamo explosion occurs. Even
if the or boiler are removea far
from the derrick, an explosion is apt to
occur, and especially if the atmosphere is
murky ground, heavy. Then the gas settles
to the and if blown toward the
light Gas is or found fire an in explosion is inevitable,
Sheffield district large quantities in~the
of the Warren oil field.
heaviest webs ever struck is
1 burning with
a flame c fifty feet high for years, and its
roar may be heard for miles. Another
heavy well is the Murrayville well, in
Washington streak in County. that’region, There is a great
gas and a com
pany has been formed and chartered by
the State to supply Pittsburgn and other
Bradford places with (Pa.) light and fuel from it.—
Cor. Philadelphia Press.
Farmers and Their Health.
By “farmers” we include, of course,
their wives, children, and we have often
thought, with the general lack of pre¬
cautions for preserving health, what
wonderful constitutions we have in¬
herited. Were it not that we have
had a great store of vigor from our an¬
cestors to draw upon, we should have
been long ago a nation of invalids.
But as one cannot always draw upon a
bank account without adding to his de¬
posits,* so. sooner or later, if we con¬
tinue to violate all the laws of health,
our drafts will be met with—“no funds.”
The farmer, of all men, needs health,
and farmers, as a rule, are the most
healthy of all people, and this in
spite laws, of a general neglect of the sani¬
tary if we were to say that we
proposed Suggestions,” to make they would same piobablybe “’Hygienic
passed by. So we give some sugges¬
tions general about rules keeping for well. One of the
given every one, in all
climates, is to take a daily bath, or, at
least, a bath once in every forty-eight
hours. derstood, A is daily impossible bath, as generally un¬
to most farmers;
but a pail of water and a large towel is
within reach of every farmer and every
one else. Wet one end of the towel,
and go over the whole body, and rub
dry with afforded, the other end. If two towels
can be all the better, but a
large one, properly used, of will this answer. kind
The comfort of a bath to
the field, farmer when after the a skin day’s ’ is covered work in with the
dust, has only to be The experienced to
make it a custom. caution is:
b' > so quW >m.< and rub dry so
ijV-litfy, as *w. beu, > f >-sspt change at the all clothes, chilly.
and On going those to taken off be
it are to worn
the next dav, turn them so that they
may air and dry thoroughly. In eat¬
ing, especially in warm weather, “go
slow.” Do not come in. hot from work,
and a.t once sit down at the table, but
take time to cool off, and at meals eat
slowly. Many look upon theffime spent
at meals as wasted, while it is really of
the greatest importance. Eat slowly,
and chew well. If you can prolong the
time at meals by pleasant conversation,
do t;o. Do not be in a hurry to resume
work after meals in hot weather. Take
a long nooning. Better spirits, and
increased vigor and strength, will far
more than make up the time taken to rest.
A general fault ox our sleeping rooms
is lack of ventilation. One reason for
th's is the attempt to keep out Hies and
mosquitoes, by closing the rooms dur¬
ing the day. Frames'upon which wire
cloth, or the cheaper mosquito netting
is stretched, will keep out insects and
allow of needed ventilation.
Farmers who work sleeplessness, all day, are not
often troubled with in¬
somnia, as it is called; yet it is in some
cases a disease, and the more is inclined fatigued
one may be, the less he to
sleep. A brisk walk before bed-time,
and a sponging and rubbing towel of the
whole body, with a wet around
the head, will often break up the very
unpleasant habit. to neglect their
Farmers are very should apt have tooth¬
teeth. Every one hard, and brush a the
brush, not too
teeth, using water freely, on going to
bed and again on rising.—American
Agriculturist.
Searching for Papa.
A lady in the street mot a little old, girl evi¬
between two and three years
dently lost, and crying bitterly.’ asked I ho
lady took the baby’s hand and
where she was find going. papa,” the
“Down to mv was
sobbing reply. papa's name?” asked
“What is your
the lady. His is ’
4 • name papa. other name? What
“ But what is his
does vour mamma call him?”
*, She calls him papa,” persisted the
little creature. tried tol >ad her along.
The lady then
“ You had better come with me. I guess
you came this way ?
“ Yes, but I don’t want to go back. I
want to find my papa,’’ replied the lit
tie girlt crying afresh, as if her heart
would break. papa?”
“What do vou want of your
asked the lady. to’kiss him.”
“I want
Just at this time a sister of the child,
who had been searching for her, came
along and took possess on of the little
runaway. From inquiry papa/whom it appeared
that the little one’s she was
so earnestly seeking, had recently died,
and she, tired of waiting for him to
come home, had gone out to find him.—
Cleveland Herald.'
—In some parts of Spain where butter
is a rare artic :le of merchandise, it is sold
not by the pound, but by the yard. It
is brought from the mountain districts
in sheep’s intestines, like sausages that
are “tied off” with string in lengths as
required by the buyer. To travelers
butter by the inch seems rather curious
bargaining; the product is Usually neither
palatabl e nor tmrticulariy clean.
--GUrapo-growmg is increasing rapidly
in California*, aad promises State. to eclipse Gov¬
th<*jnining interests of the
ernor Stanford has added 1,000 acre!
to his vineyard, and bids fair to be th«
leading grape-grower in the world,
$1.50 PER ANNUM IN AD/ANCE
NUMBER 43 .
WIT AND WISDOM.
—The world does not require bo much
to be in: owned as to be reminded
Hannah Moore. -
wl | ".'P P'ff n.l’to , 1 ('lo*'° «•« valnable git,
j. u P. on ,,' von “'n
some.ti.ng ,h to do .—James A. Garfield.
- ’‘Who shall decide when doctors
but d’sagree? do «e don't know who should
we ku°w that the Coroner usual
does. , I he Judge.
—
Dutch —** Guilty Justice or of not guilty?” prisoner. asked a
a “Not
guilty.” about “Den bizness.” what you want here?
Co your
—Whatever you owe you ought to
pay perhaps, promptly and cheerfully, Vocf exceni hS
better continue a grudge, and that
to owe. - NY Herald. IIsrakL
—man ^ who . , bragged all
out being good summer
a skater, hasswitched
. lt topic, and
J rom is now telling
Urn u boys , what , a “boss” he is to bind
wkeat " - - Chicago Cheek.
—A South End woman keeps only
one ««rvant to do her work, instead of
two. She says help are always leaving,
and when you are left alone it’s much
easier to do the work of one servant
than of two .—Boston Post.
—One must be careful of his jokes
even, for thereby he may be led to tell
too much truth. A young man when
off on a journey sent home to his mother
tached, a donkey, with “Dear a perfumed card at¬
this saying: Mother—When
yon see, remember me.”— N. Y
Mail.
—A tramp applied to a citizen of
Austin for a nickel to buy a loaf of
bread. “Can’t you go into any busi¬
ness that is more profitable than this?”
“ I’d like to open a bank if Ionly could
get the tools,’ f was the caudid reply.—
Texas Siftings.
—An in aesthetic the best Washington society lady, who
moves of the capital,
lives in a suite of rooms and does her
own that cooking she on her an oil stove. The fact
has kitchen hung with
Japanese fans—two her for five oents—- is
what, saves —Philadelphia News.
—The Vowels.—
“ Wo are little airy creatures,
All of different voice and features;
One of ns in glass is set.
One of us is found in jet;
T’other you may see In tin,
And the fourth a box within.
Jf the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from you.”
USEFUL AND SUGGESTIVE.
—Beans have ten per cent, more nu¬
triment than wheat. The proportion is
eighty-four beans per seventy-four cent of nutritious mat¬ ol
ter in to per cent
wheat. — N Y. Examiner.
—It is said that the Peaehblow potato
has done remarkably well this season.
While other varieties dried up and died
held in the summer and drought, ready the rcaehblow make
on. was to n
S rowtli of tubers after the fall rains
egan.
yelks —Cream Cabbage: one-half Beat together of the
of two eggs, cup sugar,
one-half cup of vinegar, buLer size of
an egg, salt and pepper. Rut the mixt¬
ure into a sauce pan and stir until it
boils; then stir in one cup %of cream.
Pour over the cabbage while hot.— De¬
troit Tost. i
—Pork to the Bushel: One buAhel of
corn should give ten pounds of poyk ' in
fattening when fed on the ear. ne
bushel ot meal dry fed will bushel give eleWffi
pounds of pork. One of meat
mixed with water will give thirteen
pounds of pork. One bushel of meal
cooked in mush will give fifteen pounds
of pork .—Practical Farmer.
—According to Secretary Gold’s latest
report, agriculture in Connecticut may
be considered a more than ordinarily
remunerative business, none of the
farms in Middlesex County, for in¬
stance. yielding a return of less than
five per cent, on the capital, while sev¬
eral gave twenty per cent., and one as
high as twenty-eight per cent.
—Cf all roots, except potatoes, beets
are most sensitive to frost. Carrots, will
bein g mostly deep in the ground, without
stan a considerable freezing
much injury, provided they are left to
thaw in the ground. Parsnips and veg¬
etable oyster plants are better for being
loft out all winter; and of parsnips, es¬ in
pecially, onlv enough should be put
the cellar for use when those out of
doors cannot be got at.— Exchange.
—Save the buckwheat chaff, says a
correspondent of the Husbandman, and
use it as au absorbent in the cow stable.
Being fine and dry, it makes one of the
best absorbents for this purpose. He
finds a corn basket full ( one and a half
bualiel) will absorb all the urine from
t en cows over night, and keep them dry of
and clean. He has made? a practice of his
saving all of his own and buying
neighbors for one dollar per load of
fifty baskets, and it on vs well.
Empty and Full.
A gentleman who was looking for a
boarding place rung landlady the door b'\l when ot a
parsimonious old am;
the door was opened by a mil y»nng
man , who wasone of the board^ps, asked
if he conld get board there.
Tho young man shook his head.
“ Is the house full?”
“Yes,” said the taU young 1 man,
“the house is full, but” he added in a
gaunt voice, “the boarders puzzled are empty! the
The gentleman looked the as
boarder walked off, teeth, picking with a emp preoc¬
loss out of hollow had chance to
cupied air. But he no
ask for further explanation. - Detroit
Post. ____
U Fair «yr*
that Prince Polignac s sonj a young
man of twenty-five, set fire with
to his father’s chambers in the Ras
eum In few momenta toe
de Miromesnil. the whole a
flames invaded have been bmrn<^
whole house would o« the fins
but for the prompt ere
in brigade. action, and Two after pumps an f boor, hardwort
the fire Was mastered. The Prtnoe had
asked his father for money, which wa*
refused, to* «<*■ nt ™ t)ge»nca.
—Jennie Lee, who piayedte
benches in “Poor Joe Ai cleared «re4
country, we nt to Australia, and successive e
$6X00 a week for nine
weeks at the Melbourne 1 heater,