Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 July 1893 — Page 4

AV NT JEMIMA'S QUILT.

A miracle of gleaming dyes. Bine, scarlet, buff and green; *7 O ne’er before by mortal eyes / Such gorgeous hues were seen I So grandly was its phn designed, J So cunningly ’twas built, The whole proclaimed a master mind* My Aunt Jemima’s quilt. Each friendly household far and wide Contributed its share; It chronicled the country sids In colors quaint and rare. From belles and brides came rich brocade Enwrought with threads of gilt; E’en buxom widows lent their aid To Aunt Jemima’s quilt. No tapestry from days of yore, Nor web from Orient loom, But paled in beauteous tints before This strange expanse of bloom. Here glittering stars and comets shone O’er fl were that never wilt; Here flutt-red birds from worlds unknown, On Aunt Jemima’s quilt. Oh, merry was the quilting bee, When this great quilt was dons; The rafters rang with maiden l lee, And hearts were lost and won, • Ne’er did a tbrong of braver men In war clash hi t to hilt, Then sought the smiles of beauty then Bound Aunt Jemima’s quilt. This work of ai t my aunt esteemed The glory of ihe ag ; No poet’s eyes have ever beamed More proudly o’er his page. Were other quilts to t his compared, Her nose would upward tilt ; Such impudence was seldom dued O'er Aunt Jemima's quilt. Her dear old hands have gone to dust That once were lithe and light; Her needl is ke >n are thick with rnst, That flashed s J nimbly bright. And here it lits by her behest, ■ Stained with the tears we spilt, / Safe folded in this cedar chest— My Aunt Jemima's quilt. —[Samuel Minturn Peck, in New England Magazine.

LOWRY’S WIDOW.

BY FRED L. FOSTER.

It was certainly very unfortunate for Lowry that he should have died at that particular time. Had the unwelcome event occurred a month before it would not have mattered so much; but now, just as he had struck it rich and had written East for his wife to come on and share his good fortune, it was, to say the least, very exasperating. But he was dead, beyond a doubt, and likewise variously scattered, the result of too close intima* cy with a premature blast. The miners gathered up his visible remains and buried them with due solemnity; then they waited for the advent of the widow. ,

But not without much misgiving. How would they meet her? And who of their number would assume the delicate and embarrassing task of informing her that she was a widow ? They talked it all over that night in front of Pete Simpson’s bar. “Fac’ is, fellers,” said Ore eyed Jerry, the autocrat of the camp, as he turned his solitary optic on the crowd, “Fac’ is, it’s a tough job, but it’s got to be done, an’ I’ll do it, if it takes a leg. Leave it to me, fellers, and I’ll let ’er down as soothin’ as possible.” And with a deep feeling of relief, that found exSression in another round of red liquor, le miners left it to Jerry. In due course of time a letter addressed to James Lowry in a shaky, feminine hand and postmarked Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, arrived in camp and was opened by Lowry’s self-appointed executors. It was from Mrs. Lowry, and from it they learned that she would not arrive for several weeks. One day, about six weeks after the reception of this letter, as the stage rattled up to the single so-called hotel of the little Tuolumne mining camp, the loungers on the porch caught the glimpse of a dress inside. At once all was excitement.

“She’a come!” they exclaimed. “Where's Jerry?” Jerry, who was seated at a table in the barroom, reluctantly laid down a hand” and reached the outside in time to agsist the lady from the stage, awkwardly lifting his hat as he did so. “Mrs. Lowry, I reckon,” said Jerry, as •he alight ed. The lady threw back the veil from her face, smiled and answered: “Yes. Where’s my husband?” . The crowd that had gathered inquisitively, but respectfully, about the stage fell back astounded; not at the question, but at the woman who asked it. Lowry was fifty years old, if a day, at the time he was so unceremoniously fired out of existence. He had never spoken much about his wife, whom he had left in the East fully ten years before, yet from familiarity with Jim’s age, his homely face, and still more homely ways, the miners had formed the impression that his wife must be a woman of forty or forty-five and equally angular and unimpressive in appearance. But here she was before them, a woman of possibly thirty, plump and shapely, with a face that was simply bewitching. She was absolutely handsome and there was an expression in her eye and mouth that seemed to indicate that she knew it. The smile disappeared and she looked at Jerry somewhat anxiously. “Why isn’t Mr. Lowry here to meet me?” she asked. • •

There was a painful pause. The miners looked at Jerry and Jerry looked at his boots. “Fac’is, ma’am,” he finally said, as he slowly twirled his greasy hat with one hand. “ Fac’ is, Jim’s—a ailin’. Bin workin’, you know, gettin’ ready fer you, an’— an’—sorter down with a fever or somethin’. Fac’ is, he’s—but say! You must be tired an’ hungry; there’s a room fer you in this here hotel an’ I’ll take you over to see Jim later.” With apparent reluctance Mrs. Lowry followed the hotel proprietor to the room that had been fitted up for her weeks before and sacredly kept unoccupied ever since, while the crowd, with exclamations of astonishment and delight, pressed forward to the bar. “Fellers,” said Jerry, with the air of one who had just discovered a rich “pocket” of the yellow metal; “fellers, here’s to the widderl” An hour later Mrs. Lowry accompanied Jerry to Jim’s cabin, and on the way up the trail be broke to her the sad news of her husband’s death. But in what way he imparted the melancholy information his companions never could "•F*u’ is, fellers,” he had said in reply to their questions, “it makes me creepy to think about it, she took on that terrible; but I let ’er down easy as posserble. Thought she faint sure, •’special’

when I showed her where Jim was chucked. Her carryin’ on was mighty depressin’, I’m tellin’ you.” The next morning the widow, who had sat down at the supper-table the evening of her arrival in a gown of softtoned gray that at once took all the boarders captive, surprised every one by appearing arrayed in a somber robe of mourning. Her face was pale and sorrowful, and there was a sadness in her voice that excited the deep sympathy of all who saw her. All but one. Bradford, the “gentleman gambler,” whose dark eyes and long black mustache had dawned upon the camp a few months before, wore a scow) as he got up from the late breakfast table. He had eaten slowly, if indeed he had eaten anything at all. The miners had breakfasted long before; only a few business men, gamblers and idlers were at the table, and one by one they finished their meal and departed, until only he and the widow remained. As he passed her chair on his way out he stopped and hurriedly whispered: “Fool! what are you doing with that dress on? Were you supposed to know that you were a widow when you started? And if not, how do you expect to account for that dress between last night and this morning?” Then, with a suppressed oath, he strode angrily out from the room.

The widow looked frightened. She hastily arose and went to her room. The landlord, out on the porch, was talking to Jerry, and dubiously shaking his head. “Now, where did she git them duds?” he said in a manner that impressed Jerry most painfully. The latter slowly worked his jaws, expectorating in gloomy silence. At last, ‘•Fac’ is,” he replied, “these here women is ’stonishin’; me an’you don't know no more ’bout ’em than they do of tun'ls, drif’s and winzes. I reckon that big trunk of hern was full of clo’es an’ she come pervided for ever’ contingency. Of course, she couldn’t a knowed as how Lowry had flunked till I told ’er; an’ she did carry on amazin’, 1 tell you.” That mourning costume was the seed from which sprang curiosity, doubt and finally suspicion. Mrs. Lowry took possession of the little cabin in which her husband had lived, and there she slept and did her own cooking. She seldom showed herself except to attend to business in connection with the sale of the mine, a transaction that she showed a feverish anxiety to close. But she was at all times gracious and pleasant to the men, and half the camp were madly in love with her. Independently of the mine, which was worth a cool hundred thousand, if a cent, and which Lowry had fortunately located in her name, she could have married any one of the magnates of the camp off-hand within two days after her arrival, if she had been so disposed. Jerry, whom she had selected as her right-hand man, was alternatively exultant and depressed. He became her slave, and would have jumped down the deepest shaft on the mountain side if she had asked him to; and yet he was much of the time troubled and perplexed. Gradually he became imbued with the idea that he had seen Mrs. Lowry before; but where or when, he vainly cudgeled his brain to remember. And so he went about, doing her bidding, feeling amply rewarded by the smiles she showered upon him, her light, jesting talk, of which he only was the recipient, and her friendly, familiar ways, that were kept for him alone. But with his companions he had become moody, taciturn, even irritable. He neglected his claim, and spent half his time knocking around Jim’s cabin, choring for the widow, running errands and negotiating with Tom Carroll, the wealthiest mine owner in all that region, for Mrs. Lowry’s mine. From an offer of $50,000 Carroll finally rose so $70,003, and there he stuck.

“It’s like steal in’ it, an’ you know it,” exclaimed Jerry, wrathfully. “It’s all I can stand,” was the bland reply. “If the widow can get more, all right; I shan’t begrudge her the money.” And Carroll turned away. The widow was eager to accept the amount offered. “An’ throw away $30,000!” growled Jerry. “It’s a fortun’ in itself. You can get what the mine’s worth if you don’t rush so blame' las’. You got all summer before you. Ketch me lettin’ that swindlin’ Carroll get away with the mine like that; it’s worse’n stage robbin’l”

But the widow was obdurate. She must return east; she needed money at once; she had left a dear sister almost on her death bed; she couldn't manage the mine if she kept it; and if Carroll should change his mind she would not probably be able to sell it at all—a dozen other reasons that came promptly and plausibly from her persuasive lips. And so, exactly one week from the day of her arrival, the bargain was concluded. The next day the papers were to be prepared and the transfer duly made, and the following day Mrs. Lowry was to start on her return trip East. Jerry was in an ugly mood that evening, and even his most intimate companions let him severely alone. For three hours he sat at a poker game, and during all that time he did not utter a word, except to sullenly name his bets, call for his cards and demand his drinks. He drank heavily, and lost heavily as he drank. In the subsequent expressive language of the barkeeper, “Jerry played the rottenes’ game that ever disgraced the house. He’s worse than down on his luck; since the widow came he’s got to be a blinkin’ ijet. He ought to swaller a few ounces of of nitro-glycerine an’ then set down hard on a rock; it might knock some sense into him.”

When Jarry, his last dollar gone, arose from the gaming table he stalked straight out into the night. The stars were shining large and luminous in that clear mountain atmosphere; the air was cool and sweet, and high up on the mountain side the tall pines were peacefully dreaming in the shadows. But the glories of the night had no attractions for Jerry. His mind dwelt solely upon the widow, and irresistibly his feet turned up the narrow trail that led to her cabin. The fascination that Mrs. Lowry had exercised upon Jerry, and all in the short space of one week, was a thing that he could not comprehend. Her beauty, her magnetism, the scent of her clothing, the familiar and confidential tone of voice with which she invariably addressed him, all had conspired to infatuate him completely. For the last three days he had gone about under a spell; had he been hypnotized he could not have been more completely subject to her influence. The thought of her going away was to him something worse than death. The camp, the mine, the blue sky above him, all his surroundings, had merged themselves into that one woman, and with her exit they would melt away and leave him the centre of a black and dismal void. Such was his feeling; and, being by nature unintelligent and coarse, it served only to madden and brutalize him It was a short time in which to be metamorphosed from a freeman into a slave, from a thoughtless, contented, hardworking

miner into a worrying, surly, miserable do-nothing, who could see nothing in the world but one woman, and in whose mind was room for but a single thought —that he was about to lose her. But men of intelligence, refinement and wide experience with women and the world have had their heads turned in even a shortei time and have done even crazier things than he. He no longer puzzled himseli over the question of her identity. Was she in truth Lowry’s widow? He did not know, but neither did he now care. Had he seen that face before? Possibly, but if he had it was now a matter of indifference to him when or where or under what circumstances. He could not let her go away, or if she went he was determined to go with her. And so he stumbled on up the trail, aflame with love and liquor. It was hours past bedtime and there was no light in the window as Jerry made the turn in the trail that brought him almost to the cabin door. Suddenly he collided with an object; he started back with an oath, and at the same time he heard an exclamation of surprise. A man stood before him and in the bright starlight Jerry could see that it was Bradford, the gambler. Jerry’s hand went to his pistol. “What you doin’ here, an’ at this time o’ night?” yelled Jerry, in a voice like the explosion of a blast. ‘‘You sneaking spy, take that!” cried Bradford, suddenly springing forward and striking him a blow in the face that sent him sprawling. But even as the blow was struck Jerry thrust his right hand upward and forward, there was a blaze of fire and the still night became alive with the reverberating echoes of a pistol shot.

Headlong down the steep trail, over Jerry’s body fell Bradford, uttering a single cry—“o, God!” And there h e lay, speechless, motionless.his fdee prone in the dust. The shock of the blow and of his fall and the report of the pistol instantly cleared away the fumes from Jerry’s brain; but before he could arise he heard a shriek, the cabin door flew open and a figure clothed in white came running down the trail, calling out in tones of terror: “John, John! Oh, what is itl John, what has happened ?” And thus calling and running in a few seconds Mrs. Lowry was down the trail stooping over the two prostrate forms sobbing, moaning and crying for help. Jerry, ashamed, half-frightened, closed his eyes and lay quiet. The widow, shuddering, gave him a glance and then flung herself upon Bradford’s body. And there she lay fondling his bloody face, mingling her frantic kisses with curses upon the man who shot him, until at last she fainted.

Jerry was no coward ; but the unexpected meeting, with its tragical result, had unnerved him ; he got up and stealthily hurried away. Besides, her words had cut him to the heart. Her curses, her scorn, her vindictive raging —these he could not stay to face. Suddenly he stopped and abruptly flung his hand to his head. Like a flash that face and form were again before him, but in other surroundings than these.

“ Great flumes !” he exclaimed, as he gazed blankly up at the stars; “it’s Mandie Le Brunt, .the sharpest female in all Sacramento! ”

The papers were not made out tlie next day. That morning a woman, closely veiled, climbed into the out-going stage at a point below the camp; and that very afternoon another woman, plainly dressed, with streaks of gray in her hair and a face that indicated years of patient toil and sadness and trouble, was gently assisted from the stage at the hotel door. And it was Jerry who helped her to alight. “Fellers,” he said, as a few moments a dozen or more miners crowded up to the bar. “ Fellers, fac’ is, women is uncertain, but they can’t fool us allers. Here’s to the widder! ” —[San Francisco Examiner.

Wonder-working Surgery.

The last case to which I shall refer has uot been published, but can be found in the records of the Orthopedic Hospital and Infirmary for Nervous Diseases in Philadelphia. A young girl of about tweuty-one was admitted to the infirmary in October, 1891. She said that her attacks of epilepsy, from which she had suffered for two years and a half, always began in the right thumb. This fact having been verified, it was decided to remove the centre of the thumb, to stop the very beginning of the fit. It was especially desired to remove only the centre for the thumb, and not that for the hand, in order not to interfere more than was necessary with the usefulness of her hand, upon which she depended for her support, as she was a mill girl. On October 6, 1891, the fissure of Rolando was first located, and a disk of bone an inch and a half in diameter was removed, the centre of it being two and five monkey’s brain—a little above it. Each of these centres was recognized by the movement of the part supplied by it (thumb, face, wrist) when the centre was touched by the poles of the battery. Stimulation of the thumb centre produced a typical epileptic fit, such as she had suffered since her admission, beginning in the thumb, as she had asserted. The portion of brain corresponding to the thumb centre, a piece about half an inch in diameter, was removed, and by the battery it was determined that the portion removed was the whole of the thumb centre.

It was necessary in this case to be unusually accurate, and not to remove any portion of the brain other than the centre for the thumb, and for three reasons: First, if too much were removed upward and backward, the wrist and fingers would be paralyzed; second, if too much were removed forward, the muscles of the face would be involved; third, a little further down lies the centre for speech, and had this part of the brain been injured, this important faculty would have been destroyed. As soon as the patient had recovered from the ether and was in a suitable condition, her ability to move the face and hand was tested. All the muscles of the face were entirely intact, and could be moved with absolute ease. Her speech was also unaffected. She had absolute and perfect control of all the muscles of the shoulder, elbow, wrist and hand, with the single exception of the muscles of the thumb, every one of which was paralyzed.—[Harper’s Magazine.

A miller ninety-four years old is living near Versailles. Ky., in an old water mill that he has been running continuously for upward of eighty years. He started it before the war of 1812, and remained by it all through the civil war, scarce knowing a war was in progress about him, the place is so secluded. He is hale and hearty, can shoulder a sack of grain or flour with ease, and his mind is clear and his life smooth running as the creek he has lived by and listened to for four score years.

THE JOKERS’ BUDGET.

JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. His Exact Height-A Remarkable Case—No Consideration Swan Song of the Boston Organ, etc., etc. his exact height. “I am six feet. How tall are you J ” asked a tall man of President Charles A. Deshon of the New York Southern Club. “I am six feet, too,” replied Mr. Deshon, and his friend thinks to this day that Deshon is more than six feet in height.—[The Club. A REMARKABLE CASE. Jaxum—Currie is a great drinker of soda water, lemonade and such things. Smith —Yes. In that way he is rather paradoxical. Jaxum—How ? Smith—He is a hard drinker of soft drinks.—[New York Herald. NO CONSIDERATION. Husband—Where is the hammer t Wife—You had it yesterday. “ I’m not asking where it was yesterday.” “ You had it yesterday, and no one else has had it since.” “ Huh! Well, if you had the least bit of consideration for my feelings, you would have used that hammer for something or other after I got through with t, and then you would know where it s.”—[New York Weekly.

SWAN SONO OF THE BOSTON ORGAN. “It’s curious,” said Wilkins, “how coming events cast their shadows before them. I’ll wager a fiver none of you gentlemen can guess what was the last .thing played on the Tremont Temple organ at the time of the fire.” “The Lost Chord,” suggested Dumbley. Wilkins shook his head. “Dies Ir®,” said the classical gentleman. Wilkins shook his head again. “What was it, then?” asked the practical member. Wilkins got up, reached for his hat, and went to the door. Then he replied: “The hose.”—[Boston Budget. IT DEPENDED. With a view to giving a performance in the evening the manager of the traveling dramatic company was inspecting the building called by the enterprising Arizona proprietor an opera house. “Yes, it’s large enough,” he said, “ and the lighting arrangements seem to be about right, but it hasn’t exits enough. Did you ever try to find out how long it takes to empty the hall?” “You bet I have!” answered the proprietor. “A dog-fight on the outside will empty the buildin’ in twenty, seven seconds by the watch.”—[Chicago Tribune.

THE USUAL WAY. “You are a coward!” “Do you call me a coward?” “Yes. That’s what you are.” “How dare you! Take it back!” “Not much. You’re a coward.” “That’s a deadly insult.” “1 know it, and I mean it.” “Well,l’m not going to stay here and lend the tacit support of my presence to such an outrage. Good dayl”—[Chicago Record. HOW HE LOST HIS HAIR. “Mr. Skadkins is very baldheaded,isn’t he?” she observed. “Yes; but in his case to be baldheaded is an evidence of triumph." “Why? Is it the result of great mental effort?” “It is. He lost his hair figuring out the formula for the hair restorer that made his fortune.”—[Washington Star. woman’s sweetness.

Clarissa—You have had your future told, I hear? Ethel—Yes, and I am to have » rich and handsome husband. Clarissa (after a pause)—What a foolish thing this fortune telling is when you come to think of it!—[New York Press. A LIVING IN A DEAD TOWN. Stranger—Seems to me this is a dead town. Editor—lt is. Stranger—How do you manage to make a living out of it? Editor-I’m coroner.—[Atlanta Constitution. THE WRONG PLATE. Traveler—Here, landlord, what’s the matter with your dog? I have driven him away a score of times, but he always comes back again- and -Sits close up to my chair watching every mouthful I eat. Do turn him out and let me have my dinner in peace. Landlord—Please, sir, my Karo is sutb a knowing brute; I expect you have got the plate he generally eats out of.— [Lubecker Kalender.

TWO SPHERES. Little Dick—Papa doesn’t have any fun. He has to go to business every day. Little Dot—That’s to get money, ’cause he’s a provider, mamma says. “A what?” “A provider.” “Well, if papa is a—a provider, I wonder what mamma is.” “I guess she’s a divider.”—[Good News. EXPLAINED. Irate Parent—lt’s over an hour since I sent you to the store to get those things, and now you have come back without them! Small Boy—lt was such a long time before my turn came to be waited on that I forgot what you wanted. Irate Parent—Why didn’t you come home to And out? Small Boy—’Fraid I’d lose my turn! — [Harper’s Bazar.

STRETCHING TRUTH TOO FAR. Lady—What cute little dogs! What do you charge for them? Peddler—These dogs, mum, is the—er —the Alaska spaniel, mum. All the ladies of Alaska has had these dogs for pets for centuries, mum. • Such dogs as these is worth fifty dollars apiece, mum. Lady—Humph! I’ve read a good deal about Alaska, and have formed the opinion that ladies are rather scarce in that region. Peddler (hastily) - Yes, mum, that’s what's the matter. Ladies has got so scarce there that there is more dogs than they want. That’s why I can sell you one of these for two dollars and a half, mum.—[New York Weekly. SHE BIT. “There’s a fellow out in the East End,” said Stringer, “who fell off a tree over six weeks ago and his pjrents haven’t called in a doctor yet.”

“They’re brutes,” replied Mrs. Strin* ger. “Why haven’t they?” “Because the fellow wasn’t hurt.”— [Pittaburg Dispatch. IN KANSAS. ’Twas on a Santa Fe express, In Kansas, one bright day, A curly head quite snugly On a manly shoulder lay. The situation was, it seems, Too tempting to resist, So, when no one was looking, they Each other slyly kissed. Just then the brakeman shouted out “Odora!” Quite enraged, And blushing scarlet, Dora said : “What of it? We’re engaged!’’ —[Kansas City Journal. A PROUD RECORD. School Boy (proudly)—l haven’t missed school one day this term, an’ I haven’t been late once. Mother—That’s splendid; but what are all these black marks in your report ? School Boy—Them’s only for missin' lessons.—[Good News. BETTER THAN PRESENCE OF MIND. “I was in a railroad accident once/’ said the man in the smoker to a group of listeners, “and had both legs and both arms broken.” “Did you retain your presence of mind?” inquired one of the listeners. “No.” “No? What did you do?” “I retained a lawyer and got SIO,OOO damages.”—[Detroit Free Press. PROBABLY HAUNTED. Mrs. Slimpurse Did you inquire about that house we liked so much? Mr. Slimpurse—Y-e-s. That house is haunted, or something. “Goodness! Did the landlord say so ? ” “N-o, not exactly, but he seemed to be sure we’d move out inside of a week.” “ Horrors! Did he say he thought we would ? ” “ Well, n-o, not in so many words.” “Then what did he say ? ’’ “ He said he wanted a month’s rent in advance.”—[New York Weekly. “TRANSPARENT" DEFINED. Teacher—Tommy Taddells,what is the meaning of the word “ transparent ”? Tommy Something you can see through. Teacher—Name something you can see through. Tommy—A ladder.—[Harper’s Bazar.

ODDS AND ENDS. Fashion note: Heavy overcoats are now cut by their owners.—[Philadelphia Ledger. As to horse shows, the best of them won’t get any unless the jockey is straight.—[Philadelphia Times. Variety is the spice of life, but it will never prove an acceptable substitute for cloves at the theatre.—[Detroit Fiee Press. “I’ve got it in for you, my friend,” soliloquized the mosquito, sinking it a little deeper in the sleeping victim’s nose.—[Chicago Tribune. You say in the meantime. To what period do you refer? To house-clean-ing.—[Detroit Tribune. If a person says he will not countenance a thing perhaps he will not face it either. —[Yonkers Statesman. Tommy—Say, Paw. Mr. Figg—Well? Tommy—ls slow fevers the easiest to catch?—[lndianapolis Sentinel. A Kansas man thinks he can destroy cyclones by exploding them. “Try it and be blowed!” says the cyclone.— [Chicago News. The trapeze performer’s business is precarious at best. He should always have some good thing to fall back on.— [Troy Press.

A Baltimore paper says that the soldiers at Forties Monroe have three pet billy-goats. They arc doubtless kept on the ram-parts.—[Philadelphia Record. “You are very stupid, Bridget. I told you I was at home to nobody, and yet you tell Mrs. Barker that I am at home.” “But yer said yersilf, ma’am, last night only, that Mrs. Barker was nobody."— [Harper’s Bazar. “I have just been enjoying myself among the breakers,” as the young man said who had been talking to the kitchen girls.—[Cleveland Plain Dealer. * “It seems,” said the barber, “that my whole life is to be spent getting out of one scrape into another.”

Ceremonial Use of Tobacco.

Since the world-wide diffusion of the tobacco habit, its earliest, and perhaps original, use has been in a great measure overlooked. With the aborigines of America, smoking and its kindred practices were not mere sensual gratifications, but tobacco was regarded as an herb of peculiar and mysterious sanctity, and its use wiu deeply and intimately interwoven with native rites and ceremonies. With reasonable certainty the pipe may he coiuidered as an implement the use of which was originally confined to the priest, medicine-man, or sorcerer, in whose hands it was a means of eommunication between savage man and the unseen spirits with which his universal doctrine of animism invested every object that came under his observation. Similar to this use of the pipe was its employment in the treatment of disease, which in savage philosophy is always thought to be the work of evil spirits. Tobacco was always regarded as an offering of peculiar acceptability to the unknown powers in whase hands the Indian conceived his fate for good or ill to lie; hence it is obset veil to figure prominently in ceremonies as incense, and as material for sacrifice. —[Popular Science Monthly.

Exterminating Our Birds.

Mr. John Worth, in The Nineteenth Ctntury, gives some striking facts about the rapid extermination of the birds of North America. The advent of the plough and the frame hut of the settler is gradually, driving the feathered tribe from its old haunts, and what nests are spared by the plough are too often destroyed by prairie fires. The heath hen used to be s*<en in autumn in packs of from 100 to 2<X) birds in each; now the number in a csvey rarely exceeds six or eight. The sharp-tailed grouse and the wild turkey w ill soon follow the bison and the moose into the animalia of the past. Professor Honey asserts in the Chicago Field that in one of the vast breeding colonies alone pome 1,000.000,000 pigeons were “sacrificed to Mammon ” during one nesting season, and even allowing for tion the extent of the slaughter is beyond question. The remedy is not easy to seek. Mr. Worth suggests an act of Congress to prevent bird destruction throughout the United States.

THE BODY AND ITS HEALTH.

Hair as a Cleansing Agent. —That tbe hair covering the body of an animal or the head of a human being serves the purposes of warmth and protection is manifest, but one would hardly expect to find that it also acts as a cleansing agent. This, however, appears to be the fact, according to a scientific authority. The minute scales which cover the outer portion of a hair are fastened nt one edge and free at the other, and the free edges lie in the direction away from the skin. The surface of a hair, therefore, is like that of a piece of fur or cloth covered with nap; rubbed from root to tip it is found to be smoother when rubbed in the opposite direction. This being the case, it is evident that particles of matter in contact with the hair must find their direction of easiest motion to lie toward the tip end of the hair and away from its root. So. by virtue of the peculiar structure of its surface the hair serves gradually to remove from the skin which it covers all foreign particles which may have found lodgment there. The oily secretion emanating from the follicles of the hair probably assists this action by gathering up the fine particles of extraneous dust ana of scales from the ikin, and thus enabling the hair to retain them, so to speak, in the grasp of its curious system of brushes. Every movement of the hair, however produced, must tend to set the particles sticking upon it in motion, and, as we have already seen, the motion can be in only one direction.

Don’t Read too Much About Cholera.—lt is agreed by medical authorities that the virulence of an epidemic mhy be increased by the element of fear in the public mind. In this connection Dr. D. B. St. John Roosa, President of the New York Academy of Medicine,writing on the cholera prospect says: “During an edidemic of any kind each individual should endeavor, as indeed he should under any circumstances, to maintain his mental equilibrium, in other words, to keep cool. It is very difficult in our time to accomplish this, for the simple reason that some of the daily journals think it their duty to print sensational headlines, and sometimes sensational paragraphs, which have very little actual foundation, but which excite and terrify the timid, and sometimes even .the bravehearted. The writer was once in a foreign country where an epidemic was prevalent. He never knew how violent it was until he received the newspapers from his own country describing it. Such an effect did they have upon his friends that he was written to by several of them, urging him to fly at once, when, as a matter of fact, he was in no more danger than he would have been in his own dwelling at home. The cholera was only prevalent among the vicious, intemperate, and ignorant classes, who violated the most ordinary rules of personal cleanliness, and yet the news sent from these several places intimated that every individual (even in places free from cholara) was likely soon to be attacked and swept off the earth. lam not in favor of governmental censorship of the press, but I am very earnest in my hope that the press in our country will be moderate and judicial in statement should cholera ever become epidemic among us. A panic stricken people become easy victims of disease, even if it be not the disease then prevalent. Every individual may not find it easy to maintain his peace of mind during a cholera epidemic, if the press continues to think it expedient—and the authorities continue to allow them—to publish highly colored paragraphs, in regard to the disease. I think that it can be properly urged upon the citizens of New York and adjacent cities, should the cholera appear, that they refrain from reading about it, unless they are sanitary or medical experts, wishing to learn all they possibly can as th the progress of the epidemic, and are able to look upon it in a scientific and coldblooded way.

Healthy Apples.—Let us in the first place, says a writer in the Popular Science Monthly, take a survey of the normal subject, or, in other words, of a healthy apple. It is made up of five seed cavities which occupy the central portion of the fruit and constitute the core. Outside of this is the edible portion called the flesh, consisting of cells of small size filled with liquid substances. A tough layer covers the outside, which is the skin, and bears the coloring substance that determines whether the apple is green, red, mottled, or striped. At one end of the fruit is the stem, or, as found in the barrel, this former means of attachment to the branch of the tree may have been broken away or pulled from the fruit—a matter of no small consideration when the question of decay is concerned. This end of the apple is known to the horticulturists as the “cavity,” and varies greatly in different sorts, sometimes being deep and narrow as in the Winesap and Pearmain, and broad and shallow in the Greening and Peck’s Pleasant. The opposite end of the apple bears the name of “basin," and contains the remnants of the blossom—sometimes called the eye of the fruit. This part of the apple is likewise deep in some varieties, and shallow and open in others. This is the weakest point in the whole apple as concerns the keeping quality of the fruit. If the basin is shallow and the canal to Ihe core firmly closed, there is much less likelihood of- the fruit decaying than when it is deep, and the evident opening connects the centre of the fruit with the surface. There is no question about the importance of so far as possible preventing the bruising of the fruit. From what has been said in strong terms concerning the barrier of a tough skin which nature has placed upon the apples, it goes without saying that this defense should not bo ruthlessly broken down. It may be safely assumed that germs of decay are lurking almost everywhere, ready to come, in contact with any substances. A bruise or cut in the skin is therefore even worse than a rough place caused by a scab fungus as a lodgment provided by the minute spores of various sorts. If the Juice exudes, it at once furnishes the choicest of conditions for molds to grow. An apple bruised is a fruit for the decay of which germs are specially invited, and when such a specimen is placed in the midst of other fruit it soon becomes a point of infection for its neighbors on all sides. Seldom is a fully rotten apple found in a bin without several others near by it being more or less affected. A rotten apple is not its brother’s keeper. The surrounding conditions favor or retard the .growth of the decay fungi. If the temperature is near freezing they are comparatively inactive, but when the room is warm and moist the fruit cannot be expected to keep well. Cold storage naturally checks the decay. The ideal apple has no fungous defacements and no bruises. If it could be placed in a dry, cool room free from fungous germs it ought to keep indefinitely until chemical change ruins it as an article of food. Some new sk.rls have a very wide boxplait at the middle of the bock. I

CIVILIZATION AND NOSES.

Advancement of tbe Hainan Race Tells on a Prominent Feature. There is no one feature so susceptible of modification by changed conditions of life as the nose. This is especially noticeable in the immigrants who come to us from Avery country on the face of the earth. Among the degraded and downtrodden classes the nose is flattened and undeveloped; among the persecuted it is apt to approach the aquiline form, the nose of watchfulness and resistance. The conditions of American life, on the other hand, tend to produce a straight nose, larger and less delicate than the Greek nose, but a very good nose for the nation to have. And it is this type that the noses of foreigners coming to this country insensibly develop, so that it is almost impossible, so far as personal appearance is concerned, to tell from what nation one' sprung originally. That applies, of course, to the Caucasian races. Yet it would be curious to learn if the Chinese of 2,000 years ago, who discovered and invented so many of those things which we fondly call the product of our own age, had the same flat, snub noses of the Chinese of to-day. As a rule, the more cultivated and refined a race, the finer the nose, physiognomists tejl us. To be beautiful it should be one-third the length of the face. In the Mongolian races it is about one-fourth, and in the negro sometimes less. It may be looked upon as the index of the mental development of an individual, and is usually divided into five types. The pure Roman nose is rare nowadays. It is the nose of an ambitious, power-loving man, who will conquer at all costs, and who will sacrifice anything to gain his ends.

The Greek nose, on the other hand, denotes refinement, taste and love of the beautiful. “The owner of a Greek nose," says the author of “Notes on Noses,” “is not without some energy in the pursuit of that which is agreeable to his tastes, but, unlike the owner of the Roman nose, he cannot exert himself in opposition to his tastes.” The Jewish nose, as it is called, is by no means peculiar to the Jewish nation. It indicates great energy and perseverance, together with worldly shrewdness and an ability to turn everything to the best account. The “celestial,” or turned-up nose, is concave where the Jewish nose is convex. It indicates a pert, inquisitive disposition, with a fondness for asking questions and prying into secrets. Lavator says that noses which are much turned downward are never truly good. Their thoughts and inclinationa tend always to the earth. They indicate a close, cold heart, and uncommunicative nature, often maliciously sarcastic. Men with such noses are ill humored, or hypochondriac and melancholic. Noses somewhat turned up at the point and conspicuously sunk at the top under «, rather perpendicular than a retreating forehead are by nature inclined to pleasure, ease, jealousy and pertinacity. They may at the same time possess refined sense, eloquence, benevolence and ba rich in talents. Breadth of nose denotes power of deep, close and concentrated thought, while deep, lengthwise wrinkles indicate * malicious, oad character. The forehead is the seat of intellect. Should the lower part predominate, the powers of observation will be keen—there will be a love of travel, a desire to see and describe new things, with a facility for learning facts and acquiring languages. If the middle portion is largest, the memory will be good and the power of analysis great.—[Philadelphia Press.

A “LANDLOOKER’S” LIFE.

The Seekers of Valuable Timber in the Northwest. The typical cruiser of the northwestern pineries is the natural successor of those courtiers des bois, or rangers of the woods, whom Irving so graphically describes in his “Astoria.” The rangers of those days roamed the same woods in search of furs and peltries that the landlooker traverses to-day looking for valuable timber. Each calling requires hardihood, skill in woodcraft, and a commercial instinct on which to test values. There is the same willingness to forego for long periods the pleasures of social life, with the same inclination to boisterous excess when back amid friends again. The discomforts of the landlooker’s life tiy the soul as well as the body. In summer comes the plague of sand-flies, mosquitoes and gnats, and sweltering heat and tainted food ; in winter, the numbing cold, the camp lost, and the night passed in storm and darkness pacing to ana fro, lest sleep and more than sleep may come. The snow melts in the neck, ana cold drops go trickling down the backbone ; and then there is the plunge through the treacherous ice into the frozen stream. Feet become crippled, frozen, and every step a pang. When the snow is wet and the snow-shoes load up badly, the strings which bind them to the feet are thongs of torture. During one of these trying trips vows are made, sealed with shivering oaths which shake the tops ot the loftiest trees, that never, never again will the swearer be such a fool, etc., etc.; but like the shipwrecked sailor, necessity and habit soon send him back to new hardships and fresh trials. As to personal danger, there is little in woods-ranging, and that results mainly from isolation. From wild animals it may be said that there is absolutely none. Yet the cry of the lynx and the wild-cat sometimes startles you, and the howl of the wolf suggests the hair-lifting stories of boyhood days. As to bear, they are as much afraid of you as you of them, and if you do not nm, they will. —[Scribner.

Ex-Cowboys In New York.

“You’ve no idea how many cowboys there are in New York driving trucks, and doing odd jobs like that,” said an ex-ranchman, who is now in business here. “They are a restless lot, and thousands of them got East by design or accident—mostly by accident, I think. They fetch up in the towns, and work into something or anything that has to do with horses. In town they are apt to be steady, and, for that matter, they aie on the plains. There isn’t any wila West any more. Those people who saw it ten or a dozen years ago saw a little of the wildness, and they saw the last. No cowboy thinks of shouting his way through the streets of a Western towii for fun in these days. He’d be arrested mighty quick if he tried it. If you want to see a cowboy, go around to ’s livery stable. There are two of them there. Both of them wear boiled shirts." —[New York Sun. Dame Fashion declares that not less than six cushions shall be found on every sofa in her realm, and as many more as space will allow.