Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 July 1896 — Page 5

CHAPTER 111. “It sounds like ‘Help!’ Dame Kezia,” exclaimed the young man, whose quick ears had first caught the distant sound, and who now thrust aside his books, and started to his feet “Something must have happened down dale.” “Let a be! let a be!” grumbled the woman to whom he spoke, looking up from some household task in a remote corner. “It is hay-harvest time now, and so many rambling lads about.” But at this juncture a shadow darkened the door, and into the house-place of the lonely dwelling—one of those houses plainly built of dry stone, of which we see so many in the north of England and in the southern counties few or none —burst a panting runner. “Captain!” cried out the breathless messenger of ill; “Captain—why—Mr. Don—wherever’s Captain Jedson and the rest?” “Not back yet from Whitby way,” answered the woman who was called Kezia peering at the newcomer. “My uncle, Captain Obadiah, sent us word by noon In a letter by John Anderson, the Hull carrier. There’s none here but me and my nursling, our Don, and won’t be till to-morrow.” The young man who had been the first to hear the distant cry, and the first to speak, now came forward from where he had been seated beside the long rough table littered with books and manuscripts. “Anything wrong, Joe?” he asked. “None here but thee, Mr. Don!” the boy said, mournfully; “then It’s all up wi’ them, poor souls! all the seven. I got free, but they are trapped like so many mice, to smother and drown; for who is to ' draw them out of the Soldiers’ Slough, quagged as they are, Mr. Don? and all along of Rufus Crouch being so venturesome. Not that I’d blame him now, poor chap!” “It was an ill day when the prospector, that red-haired Rufus Crouch, ever came in among us jet hunters!” was Kezia’s comment. “He’d better have stuck to Australia and his gold-digging than ” “Hush, dame!” said the young man, who had been addressed as Mr. Don, and who was singularly handsome. He was perhaps a couple of years older than the bringer of the news—say, twenty years of age—with dark-brown hair that curled naturally round his handsome head, with bold, bright eyes, and a face that in a woman would have been called beautiful. Joe Nixon’s tale was soon told. He had been one of the party detached from the main band of jet hunters, and influenced, if not actually commanded, by Rufus Crouch, the ex-Australian gold-digger. They had lit upon “signs,” in the shape of fragments of buried jet, lately uncovered by the effects of a strong northwester, and a troubled sea, which had made Rufus, always over-sanguine, feel confident that a great booty was to be won before tide rise between the Gannet Rocks and the Soldiers’ Slough; so they had all ventured out with pick and shovel, and had actually found some jet, but had been driven by the incoming sea from the Gannet Rocks, and, finally, had become “quagged” in the dangerous quicksand that lay but an arrow flight away, Joe Nixon alone having the power of escape. “Soldiers’ Slough; that means a winding sheet, drawn high, but no coffin nor Christian rites,” remarked Dame Kezia with a shudder. "If Uncle Obad had been here ” “I vish he were. But we must do our best, though the chance is a bad one,” answered the young man, cheerily, as he snatched his cap and caught up a long iron-tipped fen pole that stood propped against a rafter. “Come along, Joe.” “Don’t be hazardous, Don, my dove!” exclaimed the woman, in some alarm. “You dear old Kezia!” rejoined the young man, laughingly. "Would you make a milksop and a landsman of me of a sudden? No, no; a jet hunter must never call in vain with a mate at hand.” And he sallied forth, with Joe at his heels. The dale into which Don and his follower emerged was one of the stoniest and narrowest of those valleys which cleave the coast of a portion of North Yorkshire, but there opened out unexpectedly fertile dells and lateral valleys, where farm houses of gray stone stood among apple trees, and where there were meadows in the deep grass of which the fat kine browsed peacefully. Just then haymaking was in full progress, and in a large field, on Farmer Thorpe’s land, some "quarter of a mile away, many workers of both sexes were gathered. They stood, leaning on Jheir rakes and forks, staringly, when Don burst into the midst of them, with Joe Nixon at his heels. “Lads,” exclaimed the young man, eagerly, “I want strong arms and true hearts to go along with me on an errand of mercy. Seven poor creatures, jet seekers, like myself, are in mortal peril hard by, quagged In the Soldiers’ Slough—the terror of our shore. Come, then, and come quickly. Captain Jedson is away at Whitby. There’s not a jet hunter here save Joe and me. For the credit of Yorkshire, for the honor of Beckdale, I hope, lads, you’ll not refuse me, when the lives of Christian men and women hang trembling by a thread.” Then arose a turmoil of mingled voices in dispute. Farmer Thorpe himself, a notorious curmudgeon, anxious to save his fine crop of hay, as the saying is, without a shower, and quite callous to sentiment, was very much opposed to any wholesale desertion of their work on the part of his hired men. Luckily, however, o more generous spirit animated the bulk of those present. Forks and rakes were flung aside, and a general move was made toward the beach. On their way shoreward Don called a halt in front of another farm silent and deserted now, since the hay had been stacked. “Mr. Fletcher,” he said to the stooping, sturdy old yeoman who stood on his worn doorstep, “you have a lot of boards about there beside your barn, and two old rickcloths; these, if you would grant us the loan of them in saving the lives of those quagged in the Soldiers’ Slough, would be worth much to us. I will be responsible for the value of any we may use.” “And how if you lose yourself, lad, and don’t come back with the things or the brass?” hesitatingly demanded the senior. “In that case it is to Obadiah, your neighbor, and our captain, that you must look for payment,” replied Don, cheerily. “May we have them, old friend?” - “Ay, ay!” grumbled the farmer, “but have a care, have a care, my bairn. There’ll be moist eyes in more houses than one If ye come not back.”

A LOYAL LOVE

BY J. BERWICK HARWOOD.

And without further remonstrance, he saw planks and rick-cloths seized upon and borne away beachward. The lower end of the dale once reached and the sand-hills crossed, there could be seen the black, serrated line of the half-sunken Gannet Rocks, around which the wavelets rippled. The tide was coming in, but there was not a breath of wind, and the sea was like a mill pond. Some arrowshot or so away was a brown, shining something that looked like an ugly patch on the pure whiteness of the spreading sands, and toward the outer edge of which, nearest to the Gannet Roc*.s, appeared certain dark specks—human beings, clearly, and in sore need. “On, on!” cried Don, bounding forward, and at a run his followers cleared the stretch of flat beach which intervened between them and a low sand-bank, seamed with jagged rocks at the landward edge of the famous quicksand. “There they are all, as yet!” exclaimed Joe Nixon. ‘That's Rufus, nighest to the Gannets, with one hand on the black stone,"and those two nearer are Annie Shaw and old Peterson. But we’ve no time to lose, Mr. Don, for see now the Slough is alive; and that means mischief.” And indeed the hideous surface of the slimy quicksand seemed to heave and slowly quiver, as if some sleeping monster were breathing and stirring restlessly beneath. “Help! for pity’s sake, help!” called out the shrill, girlish voice of Annie Shaw, her face white and pinched with fear. Don gave orders promptly and cheerfully, and by his directions the boards were laid down one beyond another, so as to form a sort of floating bridge, and over this trembling pathway he himself cautiously advanced, followed at some little distance by Joe Nixon, a coil of rope in his hand. To save Annie Shaw and gray-haired Mark Peterson was a work comparatively easy, because they were so near and not very deeply engulfed as yet But this task performed, and the two first foundlings of the lost flock being brought to land, Don braced himself for the far more arduous duty that remained. There were yet five fellow-creatures to be brought in, while the tide was rising, and the heaving and shaking of the quicksand, as if the hidden monster beneath were stirring in her lair, grew momentarily more perceptible. “Don has got the first of them by the hand—a woman, that is. How she clings to him, poor thing! Ellen—Ellen Watson, that’s her name, of Thirsk, sister to Ralph Watson, that’s away with the jet hunters; very respectably brought up both,” chimed in a well-informed bystander. “Well done, Mr. Don! and well done, Joe, and Dick, and Larry from Ireland!” was the general verdict, as Ellen Watson, was pushed, dragged and hustled along the shaking pathway* of reeling planks safe to shore. Then a second victim—a lad this time—was snatched from the tenacious grip of the cruel quicksand. Next it was a married man with children at home, and whose wife stood weeping on the beach. Then another stripling was saved; and with this last act of salvage it seemed as if the good work must end, for already a thin white line of streaky tide-foam had reached the broad shoulders of Rufus Crouch, as he held on with desperate tenacity to the black rock. “It can’t be done!” he bawled out, using his outspread hands as a speaking-trum-pet, a patriarch of the beach. “Take an old sailor’s advice, Mr. Don, and get back to shore.” “Not alone,” answered Don, cheerily, but in a voice that rank like a trumpetcall. The deed was done, and the fifth sufferer dragged forth from the jaws of the devouring monster of the seashore. “Hurrah for Mr. Don—our Don! Hurrah, lads!” roared out the old fishing skipper, Threpham, who was regarded as an oracle of the beach. “Heart of a lion, ay, and strength of a lion, too, young as he is, to have brought seven of the poor things to shore this day against all odds!” “My blessing, and the blessing of my little ones, that but for you would be fatherless, be with you always, Mr. Don,” said one of the women, sobbing. “How shall we ever thank you enough, sir—l and my man, and Annie and Mark and the lads and Rufus Crouch?” “Mates must help mates, dame; and Christians, Christians,” lightly returned the young man who has been called Don. “Come lads, let us give the farmer back his planks, and the blue-jackets their ropes, with thanks for the use of them, and there will be an end of it.”

“Glad to see you, Don. I am more than glad, my old friend, not only to hear your praises on all men’s lips, but to see my favorite pupil safe and sound after the risk of yesterday.” It was not often that the Rector of Woodburn made a speech so complimentary, or, indeed, indulged in speech-making at all. He was a kind man, as well as a learned one. As such, and having leisure enough, he had good-naturedly undertaken to assist young Don, the adopted child of his eccentric neiglmor, old Obadiah Jedson, in his studies, and the young man was always welcome at Woodburn Parsonage whenever the roving nature of a jet hunter’s calling permitted him to pass an hour or two in the clergyman’s wellstocked library. On this particular morning both Mr. and Mrs. Langton, with their orphaned charge, Miss Mowbray, were in the garden, and the open carriage, with its pair of pretty white ponies, stood ready before the ivied porch. “Indeed, Mr. Don, we are proud of you; and from all I hear we have reason to be proud,” said kindly, motherly Mrs. Langton, with her beaming smile, while Miss Mowbray, who was perhaps a year younger than himself, and very pretty, timidly held out her little gloved hand and said hesitatingly, but with tears in her bright eyes, “We thought of you—so much—yesterday, and of your great courage, and the lives you saved from that terrible danger.” Gently, and almost with reverence, Don took the little hand for a moment in his, while his handsome face flushed crimson. “You are too kind to me,” he said, with manly modesty. “Any one of the fishers, any one of the dalesmen, would have done his best, I am sure, in such a case.” Then some other words were said, and then Mrs. Langton and her young charge stepped into the carriage, and were borne away, nodding a kind farewell to Don. There stood the young man, with his books under his arm, listening, or seeming to listen, to his friend and patron, but in truth quite unconscious of the drift of the latter’s discourse. It was the first time that Violet Mowbray’s tiny hand had touched his; it was the first time that he

CHAPTER IV.

had seen those lovely eyes of hers dimmed by tears, and those tears called forth by his peril, by his daring, by the lives that he had saved from the jaws of death. Don may be excused if he was for the moment an inattentive listener to the Reverend Samuel Langton. Violet Mowbray’s father, Major Mowbray, had died in India, and within a few months his wife, quite young, had followed him to the grave. Violet—who, like most delicate, and indeed European, children, had been sent early to Europe to escape the heavy, sultry heats and rainy seasons of the Madras Presidency—had been left fatherless and motherless at an early age. She was eighteen now, and within a month or two of her nineteenth birthday, and of the small income —it was but four hundred a year—that she had become heiress to so sadly, a considerable part had been al’owed to accumulate, at compound interest; so that, as her guardian was wont to declare, the girl was, for a young lady, almost rich. That Don should have admired Violet, seeing her often, as he necessaaly did—since he was a frequent and welcome guest at the parsonage, where Mr. Langton esteemed the young jet seeker as the best and quickest pupil that he had ever helped along the rugged road to learning —is perhaps not wonderful. See him —Don —now, as he slowly walks away, his books under his arm, down the winding road that leads to the shore, the lesson of the day over. He is thinking less of Mr. Langton and his kindness than of the witchery of those gray eyes that belong to Violet Mowbray. These young people had often met, but very slight had been the actual intercourse between them. The inequality of their condition forbade all familiarity. Don, though a bright, gallant lad, beloved by all, was a mere jet hunter —a foundling—a nobody; Miss Mowbray, though not rich, was a lady born, and between her and the waif of the seashore there seemed to exist a social gulf, impassable. Youth is proverbially hopeful; but even in Don’s eyes the difference of rank seemed one too great to be surmounted. “I have loved her since I knew what love meant”—such were his muttered words, as he descended the winding road; “but I know that she is as far out of my reach as are the stars that shine down upon me. What am I? Only a jet seeker; only the adopted son of a kindly, eccentric man. Perhaps, if the mystery that hangs over my birth were but cleared up—but no! I must be patient, and hide my heart’s dearest wishes, even from her, under a cold bearing. It would be base indeed to presume on Mr. Langton’s sim< pie kindness.” (To be continued.!

Heard from Afar.

The wonders and pleasures of the long-distance telephone are most agreeably illustrated by two pretty stories told by the Tacoma Ledger. The first has to do with a Chicago man who had been hunting in the northern woods, and happened Into Merrill, Wis., on the very day that the longdistance telephone line opened an office in the town. .Hearing of the innovation, he decided at once to lruprovs his opportunity. He went into one of the “sound* proof” booths and had himself put in communication with his family. A* they had a telephone In the house the task was a small one. He chatted with his wife, told her a fish story at which she might smile without embarrassing him, since he could not see the sign of Incredulity, talked with hli boy and girl, and then called tot “Gyp.” “Gyp” was a setter, a great family pet, who had been left behind because of an accident which rendered him lame. Gyp was called to the telephone, and he stood on a chair, his fore-feel on the back, and his mistress held the transmitter to his ear. “Hello, Gyp!” called the mas fey fyom Merrill. And the dog in Chicago pricked up his ears and whined. The master whistled cheerfully, and Gyp barked directly Into the receiver. He kDew his master’s voice, and the whistle as well; and the master cheered him by ready laughter at the prompt and eager reply. It was worth the two or three dollars that It cost A lady living .near Indianapolis, who had for more than a year been In delicate health, was brought to Chicago early last winter, where she received surgical treatment in a hospital. It was impossible to take her home for the Christmas celebration, although she had so far recovered that she could walk readily all over the hospital. She had three beautiful children at home, and the father prepared a Christmas tree, just as he had formerly done. Only he added one new feature. He had the electricians come in on the afternoon before Christmas and put his residence telephone into the tree, where it was concealed with pine needles and tinsel. . He arranged with the long-distance people, apprised his wife of her part in the play, and at a certain moment in the evening, when the children, bubbling over with joy at their presents, still felt a sadness at the absence of their mother, he clapped the receiver to the ear of his youngest child, and the gentle voice of “mamma” came over the wire. It was their most precious Christmas present

Some Facts About Wood.

Observations upon the preservation of timber have shown that the more warm and humid the atmosphere, the more rapidly the wood deteriorates! also that timber felled in winter ltf more durable than that felled in summer; and that timber raised in cold climates Is most durable, while the best timber is produced on meager soil. When under water, the most lasting woods are oak, alder and pine, the least so being birch, linden and willow; la the air, timber is exposed to the ravages of insects, this being the case with sap wood more than the heart wood; woods rich in resin, like the elm and poplar, are not so much troubled as those like the alder, willow, birch, yoke elm and red beech, which have an abundance of sap and are rapidly deteriorated. Timber construction which is protected from the heat and humidity is only endangered by worms, and, on the contrary, that which is in a damp and badly aired place injures by rotting, which is really the result of microscopic vegetable growths. The primary cause of the decay of wood is the presence of albuminoid substances in the sap and lncrusting materials, these naturally affording nourishment to insects and microscopic vegetations and their destructive work—New York Sun.

A GREAT BOTTLE PROBLEM

FORTUNE AWAITS THE MAN WHO SUCCEEDS IN SOLVING IT. Attempts of Dealers in Liquors and Medicines to Cet a Bottle that Can't be Refilled—Thousands of Devices, but None Just Right With the persistency and almost the despair with which Diogenes searched for an honest man, the distillers of high-grade whiskeys, the brewers of ales and beers whose labels are proof of the beverages, and the vintners of wines that are test proof,have searched for a bottle to contain their products which can be used once, but never used again. This search has been going on for years, and there s now little more prospect of its ending successfully than there was when it began. Such a bottle Is desired by the liquor men to prevent the sale of Inferior brands in bottles whch originally contained highgrade liquors. It is estimated that more than half the bottles used in the putting of firstclass liquors are, as old bottles, bought up by the bottlers and makers of lowgrade ales, beers, wines and whiskeys, The old bottles are cleaned and filled with inferior goods, which are put on the market, and sold for the goods which tne bottles originally contained. This practice has resulted in great loss to the firms of established reputation, while, at the same time, the consumer has been cheated. This practice Is not confined to the liquor business either. Bogus patent medicines—fluid extracts, elixirs, syrups and pills—are put on the market In this way, and even food products sold in bottles are thus counterfeited. It is said that there is infinitely more swindling practised in this way than the bunco steerers, check raisers, forgers, and confidence men ever thought of. And the swindler does much more harm than the tricks of criminals, because it affects more people, and It is much harder to detect and punish the swindlers. “Why,” said a dealer in fluid extracts, the other day,” “these bottle swindlers are the most dangerous criminals in any community. They will do anything and dare anything for the sake of selling their spurious goods. They fear neither God, man, nor the devil. They cate no more about the bane ful result of the game they play than they do about their own honor. These people really play with human life. Some of the stuff they sell as medicine in bottles that once contained the genuine article is little less harmful than so much rank poison.” This may be an extreme view to take of the situation, but it is, nevertheless, true that the system of forgery that has been practised for years by the bottle swindlers has wrought no end of harm, and because of it the manufacturers of bottled goods, as well as the liquor men, stand ready to make a modern Croesus of the man who invents a bottle which can’t be refilled and has a practical value. Men possessing inventive genius know of this fact, and, for years, have been working to accomplish the desired result. It is well known in the Patent Office that the relation which, exists between Industrial demand and inventive activity is very close. Thus, as it became more generally known how great was the demand for a nou-reflllable bottle, the Patent Office began to be flooded with applications for patents. According to the Official Gazette of the Patent Office, issued May 12, upward of 1000 applications for patents on bottles which cannot be refilled are now ln#lie Patent Office, and something over 100 patents have already been granted. The fact that none of the patented bottles is on the market indicates that there is some fault in all the inventions. The truth is, none of them is thoroughly practical in its workings. This comes largely from the fact that the conditions to be fulfilled are not fully understood by the Inventors. Some of those who have been trying to invent a bottle which shall meet all the requirements complain that the bottlers themselves haven’t a clear notion of what they want. According to an article on the non-reflllable bottle published in the Scientific American not long ago, the situation is about as follows: One dealer says that the present shape of bottles must not be materially changed. The inventor begins working with this idea in mind, and another dealer in bottled goods comes along and tells him that the shape of the bottle doesn’t matter so long as the desired result is obtained. Then he is informed that if any liquid whatever can be introduced into the bottle, once It has been filled and emptied, the invention Is useless. Another dealer combats this view by telling the inventor that, if the bottle cannot be refilled under ten or twejve hours, it is practicable. As to the cost of the bottle one man tells the Inventor that it must not cost to exceed three cents. Another man says five cents. Then it is pointed out that any invention can be readily made usless by boring a hole in the bottom of the bottle, refilling it, and plugging the hole in such a manner that the plugging cannot be detected. This objection is combated by the statement that the scheme of boring and plugging the bottle is no objection, since it would require an artist in glass-blowing to so plug the bottle that the plugging could not be easily detected.

“It is pointed out,” says the Scientific American, “that such contradiction is bewildering, and discourages invention at the very outset The trade owes It to itself to formulate certain qualifications. which may be easily recognized by inventors, and by which any new device shall be judged. In regard to the change in the shape of the bottle, if it is the attractiveness of the particular bottle that sells the goods, the advantage gained does not warrant the change; but if it is the quality of the goods, it does. If it will take not less than ten or twelve hours to refill a bottle, it is practical as to that feature, because an appreciable percentage of substituition is occasioned by laziness and the vast majority would give up the practice if it consumed so much time. The cost of the non-reflllable bottle should not be measured by that of the ordinary kind. If its cost be anything less than the cost of the present bottles, plus the present loss due to their refilling, it is practical in regard to this feature. “As against tbi* statement that It

would be an easy matter to bore a hole In the bottle, refill it and seal it up again, it is urged that the easiest way to convince one's self that this objection is an error is to take the necessary tools and bottles to any dealer, show him how to do it, and see how long it will be before he can do it so cleverly as to avoid ordinary observation. He would rather give up the practice of substitution. Now, whether such a hole were sealed with glass or by the paper label, it would be readily discovered by agents; who, knowing that there was but one way to refill it would always look carefully for such evidence; and. if found, it would be tangible evidence of the attempt at, or fact of refillment.” Of late it has ccpne to be recognised in the trade that the essential features of a nonrefillable bottle must include the following: The shape of the bottle doesn’t matter much, so long as the material of which it is made will in no way taint the liquid. This, of course, makes glass /ibout the only material that may be used, precludes the use of metal, rubber, celuloid, leather, and many other substances in the manufacture of the bottle. Then, to make the bottle non-refillable, it must contain some device which will enable it to be readily filled the first time and impossible to till again. The parts of the device must be so protected that they cannot be interfered with or made inoperative by means of wire or other instruments. It must also be impossible to refill the bottle by submersion or by shaking it so as to disarrange its operative parts or by forcing the liquid through the device within any reasonable time. Of course if it can be so constructed as to absolutely prevent the introduction of any liquid whatever, so much the letter. Finally, the bottle must be strong and cheap. Notwithstanding the tempting reward in store for the man who can meet this demand, and notwithstanding the numerous Inventions offered to the trade, the problem remains unsolved. And yet it looks simple enough.

TALLYING PINEAPPLES.

Quick Work Done in Handling the Fruit on the Wharves. The pineapple season lasts from about March 1 to nbout Aug. 1. New York gets pineapples from the Florida keys, from the West Indies, and from the Bahamas; some come in steamers, some in sailing vessels. Pineapples from Havana by steamer are brought In barrels and crates; pineapples brought in sailing vessels are brought mostly in bulk, not thrown In loosely, however, but snugly stowed, so that as many as poslble may be got Into a vessel. On the wharves here pineapples brought In bulk ure bundled with grout, celerity. Men in the hold of the vessel fill bushel baskets with them, and hand the baskets up on deck, where they are passed along and set up on the stringpiece of the wharf. The trucks In which they are to be carted away are backed down handy. A box of suitable height, and which is ns long ns the truck is wide, is placed at the end of the truck. A man standing near on the wharf lifts the baskets from the stringpiece and sets them up on this box. Two men stand at the box, each with a basket of pineapples in front of him, to count the pines and throw them into the truck, which has racks at the sides; lengths of board are placed across the end as the load rises. Two men stand in the truck to level the fruit as it comes into them.

The two counters are experts and they work with great rapidity and steadiness, keeping pineapples going all the time. Each man picks up two pineapples at a time, one with each band, and gives them a toss into the truck, both men counting as they go along, one after another, “one,” “two,” “three,” “four,” “five,” and so on up, each count meaning two pienapples. When they strike “one hundred,” the tallyman makes a straight chalk mark on the end of the truck; that stands for two hundred pineapples. While he Is making the chalk mark the other counter keeps right on and he may have got up to "two” or "three” again, for it takes a second or two to make the chalk mark, but by that time the tallyman is at it again chiming in with “four,” and away they go together again, counting up rapidly toward another hundred. If a man on the load finds a speckled pine, he drops it i over the side of the truck into a basket that stands there, and says: “One out.” The tallymnn tosses in one without counting, to keep the count good. As fast as the counters empty the baskets they push them off the box, and the man at the stringplece seta up a full one in its place and the counters keep the pineapples going without cessation. At the fifth hundred the tallyman makes a mark diagonally across the four he has already made, in the commonly used method of tallying freight; but these five marks here stand for a thousand pineapples. On a double truck there are usually carried «pm 4,500 to 5,500 pineapples; on a ngle truck, from 2,000 to 3,ooo.—New York Sun.

The Storage of Light

An interesting possibility is opened up by a recent communication of M. Charles Henry to the Paris Aeademle des Sciences, thus summarized in Cosmos, and translated for the Literary Digest: “It is well known that heat hastens the emission of the light stored up by phosphorescent bodies; this fact, which it is easy to observe on a phosphorescent surface in places where it is affected by the heat of the hand, may also be registered on a photo plate, M. Henry thought that reciprocally intense cold should prevent the emission of this light. Experiment confirms this prevision. It hns proved that the employment of intense cold is one of the most powerful means for preserving light in a latent condition in phosphorescent bodies. Unfortunately this process is hardly practicable at present, except in regions where cold costa nothing; but in any cast* it is the first step toward a great industrial triumph, the utilization of sunlight for illumination in the night time. Who doubts that frigoriflc processes, which have been employed with so much success in the preservation of food materials, may also serve for the preservation of light?”

A TORNADO RECORD.

The Most Important Storms in This Count try Since 1874, Since 1874 the figures regarding tornadoes are tolerably accurate, having been compiled by the Weather Review. Here are the most Important storms, exclusive of the recent terrible visitations in the West: Nov. 22, 1874: The town of Tuscurnbia, Ala., was destroyed. Ten people were killed and 100 buildings destroyed; loss SIOO,OOO. May fi, 1870: A tornado in Chicago killed several people and destroyed $250,000 worth of property. June 4, 1877: Mount Carmel, 111., destroyed; 10 killed, 30 wounded; loss $400,000. July 7, 1877: Tensaukee, Wls., destroyed; 8 killed, many wouuded; loss $400,000. June 1,187 S: A path 750 feet wide and a mile long mowed through Richmond, Mo. There were 13 killed, 70 wouuded; loss SIOO,OOO. Aug. 9, 1878: A disastrous tornado in Wallingford, Conn. The loss of life amounted to 34 and twice as many wounded; loss $200,000. April 14, 1879: One man was killed and sixty buildings destroyed in Collinsville, 111. This tornado struck a cemetery and levelled every tombstone, April 10, 1879: Sixteen people were killed in Walterboro, S. C. During tbs storm many clamed to have seen balls of fire rolling along the ground. April 18, 1880: Ton killed and 30 injured in Fayetteville, Ark. April 18,1880: Every house In Marshfield, Mo., a town of 2,000 people, was destroyed or badly damaged; 05 were killed and 20 wounded. April 18, 1889: Several people killed In Beloit, Wls. On the same day a similar storm struck Licking, Mo., and killed 3, wounding 15, and leaving 200 homeless. April 24, 1880; Six people killed in Tnylorsvllle, 111. May 28, 1880: Fifteen people killed and four times as many wounded in Savoy, Tex. April 12, 1881: A tornado, accompanied by hailstones of enormous size killed 10 people In Hernando, Miss June 12, 1881: Tornado In l)e Kalb County, Mo.,killed 5 uml razed 80 buildings. July 15, 1881: New Him, Minn., suffered; 11 killed; loss $400,000. Sept. 24, 1881: Nine killed in Quincy, 111. April 18, 1882: Brownsville, Mo., partially destroyed; 8 killed. June 17, 1882: Disastrous storm In Grluuell, la.; (10 killed, 150 injured; 140 houses destroyed In three minutes; loss $600,000. April 22, 1883: Every house in Beauregard, Miss., torn down, and 20 people killed. Thirteen people were killed in the neighboring town of Wesson the same duy. May 18, 1883: Sixteen peopel killed in Racine, Wls. Aug. 21, 1883: Town of Rochester, Minn., destroyed and 20 people killed. Feb. 19, 1884: Eleven people killed in Leeds, Ala. Aug. 3,1885: Six |>eople killed in Camden, N. J., by a storm wheli destroyed property worth $500,000. April 14, 1880: Seventy-four people killed in St. Cloud and Sauk Rapids, Minn.; loss $400,000. April 21, 1887: Twenty killed and 300 injured In Prescott, Kan. April 22, 1887: Twenty killed and over 100 wounded in Johnson County, Ark. Feb. 19, 1888: Mount Vernon, 111., 18 killed, 54 wounded; loss, $400,000. Jan. 9, 1889: East Reading, Pa., 40 people killed by a storm which destroyed $200,000 worth of property. Jan. 12, 1890: One hundred house* razed and 3 people killed In St. Louis, Mo. March 27, 1890: Awful storm in Louisville, Ky. There were 70 killed, 200 Injured, $2,250,000 worth of property was destroyed. July 7,1890: Nine people killed in Fargo, N. D. April 1, 1892: Thirty-four people killed in several smnll towns in Kansas," Towanda and Augusta suffering most. May 28, 1892: Twenty-eight people killed in Wellington, Kan. Loss, $500,000. June 15, 1892: Blxty people killed in Southern Minnesota. April 12,1893: Seventeen people killed in Robinsonvlle, Miss. April 20, 1893: More than 100 people killed by a series of tornadoes in Oklahoma. April 30, 1893: Thirty people killed in Cisco, Tex. June 21, 1893: Storm near Topeka, Kan., lesulted in the loss of 14 lives. July 0, 1893: Storm visited Pomeroy, la., and neighboring villages, killing more than 100 people. Sept. 21, 1894: Over seventy-five people killed in a general storm in Minnesota and lowa.

The Lake Carrying Trade.

Canadian vessels whether steam or sail, are at a disadvantage, compared with American craft, in the carrying trade of the great lakes of this continent, because so many of them are built of a limited size to go through the canals to Lake Ontario and Montreal; whereas the later American craft nre of much greater size, not requiring to go farther east than Buffalo on Lake Erie. The largest of these are 300 to 400 feet in length and able to carry 100,000 to 200,000 bushels of grain on a draught of 10 to 18 feet of water. Some of the latest Canadian steamers can, however, carry cargoes of 50,000 to 70,000 bushels. We hear this week of some new vessels of the Kingston and Montreal Forwarding Company, namely, the Thursh, capacity 47,000 bushels of wheat, and the Lapwing and the Hiawatha, 40,000 bushels each, which go up to Port Arthur, Lake Superior, where they load wheat at Fort William for Kingston.—Toronto Monetary Times

Paris Mushroom Caves.

One of the most interesting sight* around Paris is the mushroom caves, which are nothing more nor less than tunnels containing at intervals of a few feet small bedH of fertilizer mixed with virgin soil. The caves where mushrooms are grown are especially prepared, and great care and attention are given to their keeping and perfect preservation.

THE YOUNG FOLKS.

SHUT KTK TOWS. Baby is going to Shut Eye town. Robed for the trip in her little white gown, Sheltered and safe and snug and warm. Cuddled up close in her mamma’s arm, She’s on the way to Winkum. Ga/.ing nbout so baby wise. Now she doses her winsome eyes. What cares she if the winds do blow, Or that the ground is covered with snow? She’s passed the place called Blinktum. Over the fields where the poppies grow, As mamma rocks her to and tro. Her rosy pink lids are freighted down With sleepy seed by fairies eowd. Within the gates of Shut Eye town. —[Belle Lowe Stathem.

how to saa wind. If you wish to see the wind take a polished metallic surface of two feet or more, with a straight edge, a large haudsawill answer the purpose. Select a windy day, weather hot or cold, clear or cloudy. only let it not rain or the air be murky iu bther words, let the air be dry. Bold this metallic surface at right angles to the wind—that is, if the wind is north, hold your surface east and west—and incline it at an angle of 45 degrees, so that the wind striking glances and lit wt ovor the edge. Now sight carefully over the edge at some small, but clearly defined object, and you will see the air flow over a* water flows over a dam. A HOG KINGS A FOG BRLL. There is a dog on the Maine coas which is a valuable and valued assistant at u lighthouse. According to the Portland Daily Argus, tbe animal is the only dog regularly employed at any lighthouse in the district, aud he perfof ms his duty in a manner that is perfectly satisfactory. He is attached to the lighthouse ut Wood Island, off Biddeford Pool, and has been there for a number of years, lie is the constant companion of I lie keeper, and lias learned much of the duties of oue of Uncle Sam's lonely watchers. It is customary for vessels passing Wood Island to give three blasts of the whistle as a salute. At such times the dog runs to the bell ro. e, seizes it in his mouth, and tugs vigorously. The dog never rings the bell except at the right time, and never misses ringing it when It should be rung. Captain Oliver, of the excursion steamer Forest Queen, was the tir-t seaman to learn of the four-footed helper tliut the keeper of the Wood Islun I lighthouse had trained to ring the boll. Several hundred excurslonisls on the boat saw the dog tugging at the bell rope, and they afterwards made inquiries about the matter. They learned that it was an old story with the dog, and that during a fog the' patient animal rings the bell without cor*, plaining for hours ut a time. He hul never been known to desert his post, Which is more than can be suid for some of the men engaged to ring fog bells and tend lighthouses. As nearly every lighthouse that guards Uie coast there is one dog, uud sometimes the keepers have several. They help to while away the long, lonesome hours, and are almost us good as human companions. But, so far as ts known, the dog pictured herewith is the only one that has proven to be of uny real service to his master. It is perhups needless to say that the dog is highly valued by his owner, and money would not buy him. He Is a mongrel dog, being more nearly a shepherd than anything else. No particular effort was made to teach him his duty. He "picked it up" from observation, aud it took few lessons to make him perfect.

the Msaquirs tube and its uses. It is a common saying, in the arid regions of the bouib west, that the natives climb for water and dig for wood. This, being inte prcted, means that the water for drinking purposes is kept in aneartiien jar, or oila, Upon the top of the house, where, by menus of the more rapid evap. oration, caused by this direct exposure to the sun’s rats, the contents of the jar are kept continually cool. And the digging for wood is explained by the fact that the only timber through much of that region is the mesquite, a low-growinz shrub rather than tree, the roots of which are very hard and make an excellent fuel. For a whole winter I have been warmed by them, broken into little pieces, for they arc too brittle to chop, and have found that they give out au amount of heat that is in undue proportion to their bulk. The raesquite groves are a striking feature of the wiiie, level expanses of these regions. From a distance they look like peach orchards, only their vast extent precludes the idea that they are such. As timber a man accustomed to living among real forests would hardly give them a thought; but they are very much better than no timber at all. When in New Mexico recently I found that the tree had another use besides that of supplying fuel. It produces a bean which is an important article of food among the Indians, and in times of scarcity with the Mexicans as well. The bean is produced in pods which arc seven to nine inches long, and of a buff color. They begin to ripen in midsummer, and, as they have tl>e quality of preventing thirst as well as of satisfying hunger, they are often of the greatest value to travelers through the desert country, The Indians, who know their value, do not hesitate to go a long distance away from water if they can be assured of a supply of mosquito beans along their route. When used for food the beans are prepared in vari ms ways. When fresh and newly ripe they are put into a mortar of stone or wood, and bruised, then emptied into an earthen dish, mixed with water and allowed to stand for a few hours. The result is a kind of cold porridge or mush, which has a very agreeable blending of sweetness and acidity, and upon which many of the people would willingly exist the year through. As the fruit or bean pods ripen they are gathered for winter use. thoroughly dried and stored in cylindrical-shaped baskets, made of twigs, and covered with grass or earth to keep the rain out In this way they may he preserved for a long time. When needed for food the pods are reduced to a fine powder, by means of a mortar, and this flour cooked as fancy may dictate. The Hour thus prepared is also often kept for a long time. Horses and cattle feed upon the beans, which are very nutritious, and ofteu fiud sustenance, and indeed the very means of keeping alive, in them when grasses of all kinds are burned up by the drouth.

The Natives Were Puzzled.

During the Chitral campaign Sir Robert Low attempted to stretch telegraph wires over the country. The natives objected as they thought the wires were intended to divide the country for the soldiers when told that messages were to be sent on the wires they agreed to guard them. They watched for the messages until they were tired, and as they had not seen any they cut a section of the wire out and took It to their camp, where they could observe It, with more comfort |