Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 August 1884 — Page 10

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ST. JEAN PE BA'TF. Written for the Journal by Mrs. M. H. Oatberwood. Michel Trudeau wakes early on the morning of June 25, comes down from his loft through the two rooms when other members of his numerous family still slumber, and proceeds first to •feed the cattle. To do this it is not necessary for him to open the outer door, catching 'as he does so the dawn upon the mountains and the damp freshness of a Canadian morning in its first glory. The house roof extends over stable and all appendages, so, when in mid-winter the snow reaches his armpits, Michel does not have to struggle through it to his domestic creatures, but has them sheltered to his hand. He does not object to a manure heap against the outside wall of his residence; nor does his mother, though her floor is kept white as snow and the braided rag rugs laid about on it testify to her industry. The young French Canadian is a low-built, swarthy fellow. He has very black eyes, black hair and a ruddy flush through his cheeks. His sisters have a waxy skin and heavy features. They are not beautiful, for their little figures are dumpling shaped, and they do not wear the high Norman caps of their foremothers. Their best clothes are made in the American fashion, of silks and satins—for however poor a FrenchCanadian may be, he will decorate his church and his person to the most gorgeous limits that he can reach. This is the festival week of St. Jean de Baptiste, the Canadian national holiday, entirely un-English in its origin and celebration, however zealous the descendants of Britons may be in taking part. Usually every town and village festoons itself with maple leaves, the Canadian emblem, and has its own processions. But this fiftieth anniversary there will be a grand festival at Montreal, and thither every Frenchman who loves his race will go. Michel knows that yesterday, the 24th inst., was the true St. Jean’s Day; that a solemn high mass was celebrated at Montreal in the open air, and every following hour was filled with amusements. But it is to-day that the procession will move, through narrow, solid streets, with music and pomp, the chevaliers with crosses on their breasts, and the mimic king—the personator of St, Louis —with pages and gorgeous attendants. It is the glory of old France; the living dream which a transplanted Gaul dotes upon. Michel has heard his father and the priest talk about this society of St. Jean de Ba’ti', founded fifty years ago by Lodger Duvernay, patriotic French-Canadian and Liberal. Michel has also a dim idea that the organization in all its branches is politics, and he knows it nurses his inherited feelings and prejudices. But one cares for other things at twenty. Michel loves the cavalcade, he loves holiday and noise, and of St Jean de Baptiste, week Wednesday is his favorite day. His numerous family rouse up and breakfast There are large children, middle-sized children, and various stages of babies, fifteen in all, of whom Michel is eldest They will go in a body to behold the procession of St Jean de Ba’ti’. Some will remain during the entire week at friends’ houses in Montreal; houses built of block stone, with outside staircases or verandas hung around under the eaves; and some will come back to the ribbon-strip of farm at night to feed the animals and trudge leisurely through daily work. As Michel harnesses the horse which is to drag as many of this family as can crowd upon the flat car. he looks eagerly across the pea-neld, the pea-bunches are coming up finely and will be good eating for stock; but his thought is not of them. The train leaves St. Hyacinthe station at a little after 5 o’clock, and this army of Trudeaus, whose progress will be the snail’s, must soon set out to meet it. He has been told the Polettes would come by in season t-o join companies. St Joseph! There is no finding your own twin brother in Montreal after you have once set foot among the throng. Michel is shy of Zelie Polette, yet he hopes to find a car-seat which nobody but Zelie and himself should occupy. His mother snd her mother —their youngest babies hermetically sealed in quilted cotton bolsters—could tinkle together on the cars of family life, and their fathers make the train resound with nasal Canadian French. He cares not what disagreements the middle-sized children may fall into. With the older people it is peace and amity, and with Zelie and himself he hopes it is amity and peace indeed. The Polettes come creaking along all upon one dray-like open wagon drawn by one horse. A box is placed at the front upon which are throned the Polettes pere and mere. And all the rest of the surface is a muddle of finery and boys' straw hats festooned with white tarletan. There is scant time for ceremony, yet Michel and father must bring from a chest under his own bed a bottle of stale beer, a bottle of poor Marsala and strong whisky. While the load on the van is tasting and ejaculating with the load about to weight another van, Michel cannot forbear to bring out bis fiddle and strike into old Norman dancing tunes. It is almost impossible for those many feet to keep still' They would be dancing heartily, as if they had just been to Sunday confession and got their sins forgiven; but the fiddle must be put away—the fourwheeled carts must move. They move over a road-bed of solid rock, on which the flint dust is still too damp with dew to spirt up in little gusts. Banks rise on each side, thick set with fern and fragrant of sweet earth. Hills rise in green undulations far up the horizon, and the woods are rank and dense on every haud. The English ox-eyed daisy and polished buttercups clothe whole fields in white and yellow mosaic. They pass a green-hidden mansion; a fountain splashes in a little lake, and from terraces comes a puff of the musk plant. Michel walks beside the Polette cart, less in mercy to the family horse than in kindonss to himself. He does not mind the trudge to St Hyacinthe, where the horses are housed with hospitable acquaintances, and where the long excursion train, stuffed with Frenchmen, is yet capable of devouringmore crowds. Sweet to Michel is the sight of whirling landscapes, of suddenly appearing and disappearing rivers. He cannot sit by Zelie, but standing up he can look at her, and she is grand in her fine clothes, Zelie is not so short nor so puddingshaped as his sisters, and when she is warm her hair curls in tendrils around her face. He would not dare to compare her to the sacred image of our Holy Lady of the Grotto; still, he feels a solemn satisfaction in gazing at her with distended black eyes. No more than an American country lad in a similar state of mind does Michel reflect about what Zelie and he will live upon when they are married. They will surely have a holiday dress, and go to see Dr. Jean de Ba’ti’, whatever betides. And now the train has entered the Victoria bridge which spans St. Lawrence, a two-mile causeway of solid masonry, nierced by windows, swliioh let in early sunshine like flashes of lighting that are ceaselessly answered by the thunder of the train. How great is the confusion in Bonaventure depot, where masses of humanity struggle together. Outside, the policemen abuse cabdrivers. The street is blocked. Mothers, like uneasy hens, gather their flocks to see them again dispersed. Neighbors meet, almost embrace, and shiver the air with Canadian French. Two women, who have not met for years, because one lives in the east provinces and the other far out in the west, take hold of each other and chatter a moment until one turns aside to her child, the fstream of strangers then pours between these two friends, and they are parted forever. Crowded among the one horse cabs and pushlth from space to space in these quaint, narrow streets, are cartfuls of French from all near villages and suburbs. Hochelega, the Lachine Rapids, St Madeline, etc., dull colored habitants Mod along the flagstones as their forefathers on the savage side were wont to plod through pathlesss woods. If, in market or shop, thev see a particularly fat and repulsive piece of salted flesh, oozing under the June heat, they stop and gaze upon it With fond regards. It is their ideal of food; the choicest morsel for their feast Strangers and travelers help to swell the crowds. And there are large delegations of non-resident Canadians, from Chicago and the Northwest and all provincial towns between iMont.real and Port Sarnia. The solid old city, built squarely of stone

blocks upon foundations of eternal rock, and rambling up and down the foot-hills surrounding Mount Royal, is gayer than a young bride. There are arches over the principal streets, covered with color, with flowers, with mottoes, with flags and evergreens. Flags are in motion on every side, and the maple garland displays itself in tireless perspective. Michel stretches up bis neck to gaze at the allegorical groups in the arches. He is happier and much more exhilarated than if he were in the midst of a Sunday-night dance. The Trudeaus and Polettes still push along together. It is not more than half past C o'clock, and the great procession will not move until 8. But. there is everything to see; there are the shrines in Notre Dame to be visited, and, finally, stand-ing-room to be struggled for on the cathedral plaza or steps. Michel keeps beside Zelie, and amidst joyful sounds of music, tongues, feet on flag stones, rattling wheels and street-cars—the roar of a multitude added to the usual roar of a city—lie drops many a Canadian-French sentence at Zelie’s ear. He might help his parents carry that wallet of black sausage and cheese with which hunger is to be staved off from the family of Trudeau. St. . Rosalie! do you think father Trudeau could put his hand in his pocket and take out enough Canada quarters to pay for the filling of all those mouths, besides the beer with which he must pledge his friends? But Michel has some silver of his own, and he resolves to see that Zelie’s thirst is quenched before his sisters, Angelique and Marie, can call upon him for brotherly offices. # So dead to family ties are young men in love! And there are things to be bought on every hand; holy red and blue pictures, bead-brackets, and a thousand charming fancies. A man cannot bargain, however, with all his relatives staring at him and at the probable recipient of his gift, and Michel continues up Notre Dame street When they mount the Cathedral steps, he is still near Zelie's elbow. Zelie and he make their way through one of the many aisles, and, pausing midway under the star-necked blue arches, kneel, and cross themselves with their faces in the direction of the great altar. The candles are lighted, and one or two priests, wearing their white capes, pass and repass, making obeisances to the pinnacled and glittering object A crowd of women kneel in front of St Joseph’s shrine. The base of the Virgin’s pedestal is kissed by thousands of passing lips. The holy apostles, standing in a dim religious light around the altar, bear with unmoved aspect the squeaking of shoe-leather. Great dark pictures gloom along the walls, ranged between tho many confessionals. Having bowed her forehead to the floor, Zelie Polette must mope from shrine to shrine, posturing with the unmeasured devotion of a French Canadian. And Michel must keep her well in sight while he says his own. prayers. There is nothing reticent or shame-faced about their religion. Yet ears most devoutly stopped would be superhuman if they could not hear the approach of music betokening the procession. Michel tries to squeeze a passage for Zelie to a place by one of the great pillars which support the frout of Notre Dame. She is just behind him. The first of the alegorical cars begin to pass, and he instinctively stretches up to see it all. The shout of brass instruments makes all his blood tingle. But this will never do. He must place Zelie, and he turns to help her on, but the crowd has swallowed her. He fights backward and forward, yet Zelie cannot be seen. Perhaps her mother seized upon her elbow. Perhaps she saw a sudden opening and reached some remote good place herself. Michel is anxious and disturbed. He does not care now to take the pillar by storm, but stretches up on tiptoe dividing his gaze between the pageaut and a nervous search of the crowded porch. Afterwards he could not recall the order of the procession. The first house in Canada swam past him, a log hut, having its tree in front ana its kettle slung up betwixt the tree and a forked stick. There were the Canadian discoverers, with their unsafe vessels resting on the canopy above them; a wigwam decorated with totems, bows and shields, and the native savages smoking beside it. Desalaberry was represented as if still in the flesh, and Dalland and his men; and there was Jacques Cartier, of heroic memory, standing before Francis I to receive his commission as discoverer. There, even, was La Grande Hermine, one of Cartier’s ships—and how puny, when you compare it in your mind with one of the ocean steamers down by the pier. What courage had Jacques Cartier, to take to the uncertain Atlantic in such a cockle-shell as this! Michel knows something of all these things, and feels the pride of race quicken within him. But the quickening would be fuller and stronger if Zelie Polette stood by him. There goes Champlain’s fortress at Quebec, looking like a pile of masonry and turrets surmounted by.the colors and flags he loves. When Duvernay’s bust is floated past-, Michel takes off his hat and shouts. Ah, there is a grand man—that fondateur of St. Jean-de-Ba’ti'! Can Zelie Polette see well from her standingplace that fine and noble head? Michel is recalled from another eye-search after her by pair after pair of horses all nodding with plumes and led by pages in trunk hose and rreh cloaks and doublets. Music, which dies away at intervals as the floats disappear down Notre Dame street, revives in full blast before this pageant It is time for Michel to make the sign of adoring reverence. This is the young St. Jean de Baptiste, half-clothed, and holding his majestic cross and legend. Beside him is his lamb. He is a beautiful child, with curls covering his neck and bosom. He stands in a small temple, and behind and before him float the national flags. A canopied slope stretches out at his feet, and here Canada’s emblem, the beaver, has its house. Blessed be the patron saint of all Canadian Frenchmen. Then come the chevaliers as crusaders, on prancing horses, bearing sword and lance. They come in columns, in hollow squares, casting the flash of their arms, and the gorgeous colors of raiment into beautiful shapes. There are trumpeters with this cavalcade. It is enough to wake all the dim ancestral recollections which can possibly lurk in a country youth from St Hyacinthe. At intervals betwixt the ranks are displayed the arms of France, of Anjou, of Artois, and Normandy, preceded by dignitaries and pages. There is the oriflamme of St. Denis. And finally comes that sainted king. Louis IX, accompanied by fair youths, his horse led by pretty pages. The chevaliers following him are paled by his glory. What better sight can a man ask" for than all these living pictures? They are real enough to Michel. He is brought up to revere emblems and symbols. He is not fastidious enough to find fault with the plump young king who us made up to personate that lean-faced devotee, the sainted Louis. Michel’s head is stuffed with color and sound, and though all the pageant has passed it does not disappear from his eyeballs. He can exclaim to this shoulder neighbor and wag his head with approval, but there would be cold comfort in that. His shoulder neighbor is another young Canadian Frenchman, just back from Chicago, where he lias had a degree of energy knocked into him. But what has he to say that would compare with Zelie Polelte’s comments on St Jean de Ba'ti’?" Where can she be? It is high noon. Michel is hungry, and the wallet of black sausage and cheose may be on the other side of the Place d’Armcs, with a moving sea of people between. However, he has no mind for black sausage and cheese. If she would come by, he knew of eating places to which he would guide her, and where he would freely spend his silver. And there is Zelie's back between a dumpy French firl and a larger vouth than Michel; friends of elie's, who are talking to her with nasal zest, and smiling all the time. Michel plunges toward her. Her mother would surely not want her separated from the Polette and Trudeau companies, and he follows her as rapidly ns he can toward McGill street. This is not as exhilarating as his morning dip into the human sea. Now she disappears beyond bobbing shoulders, and now she reappears, walking always between her friends, and seeming perfectly happy. Michel would not have believed that such an impudent scoundrel as that tall fellow could be found in Montreal at the festival of St Jean de Ba’ti’. HP had been warned against thieves and pickpockets, but how could he be warned against the loss of Zelie? At the corner of McGill street he again loses her, and stands a time staring first down toward the St Lawrence and the shipping, and then in the opposite direction at Mt. Royal, which rises like a mighty globe of verdure and rocks from the midst of the city. None of the decorations around Victoria Square dwell on Michel’s eye. ’ He is going into a rage, and the Canadian sun is hot upon him. Come now half a dozen neighbors and acquaintances, and they take hold of him, squeezing his arms. Beer is to be had in plenty and a

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 1884.

merry good time, so why should a man waste himself running after a firefly? Michel goes along. He eats, and drinks, and shouts out in chorus with the others, “Vive la Canadienne" and “En Roulant ma Boule.’’ There are to be races at Lepine Park at Hoclielaga; there will be a carousal in the Exhibition grounds at night, perhaps tilting at the ring and at the quintain. Before he is obliged to take the midnight train to bis rib-bon-like farm Michel can see the king throned in the amphitheater and all those noble knights and crusaders making evolutions in the ring uuder electric light. There are a thousand agreeable sights to be seen, a thousand agreeble things to be done, and many a French-speaking girl, with finery as rich as Zelie Polette’B. and a manner more considerate than hers, has been. Still, when Michel gets one more glimpse of Zelie Polette during the afternoon, riding as grand as Lady Lansdowne’s self in a one-liorse cab with her friends, he wishes for one fierce iustant that the steam-roller were at work on some of the streets—that puffing demon which causes many a runaway, in spite of the placards set up at each end of its route—“Prenez garde au rouleau vapour.” The ships along the Dier glitter with colored lights and ornamental lanterns at dusk. Tomorrow their great procession will take place, and what a grand sight it will be to see them in line, bedecked with flowers and flags! Yet Michel feels as if he does not care about it. He comes back to the clanging depot. You would not be interested in him; he has had too much beer and too little honest joy. How many a pageant has been spoiled by the medium through which we looked at it Ten years from now Michel Trudeau can look with calm eyes, from a settled plane of feeling at St. Jean de Ba'ti’, and perhaps lift a little child of his wife Zelie's to see the crusaders and St Louis pass by. His cares will be the common needs of daily life, and those he can put out of mind. He can even smile as he remembers with what a bitter tincture this day was spoiled for him, and how refreshing the country dew seemed when stumbled into it from St. Hyacinthe station; muttering against all fools who go to St. Jean de Ba'ti’ and follow the the Polette family around, as if he could ever overcome the ties of love, race and religion. BOSTON BABIES. Children Who Take Life Seriously and Do Not Indulge in Noisy Plays. Corresoondeuce New York Mail and Express. In roaming about the eastern side of New York during the summer months, I have been struck many times with the persistency of the children of the poorer order in their games. I have watched them on the wharves and in the squares and open spaces of the more densly populated districts, and everywhere I have seen them at play. Rings of half a dozen boys and girls may be seen on every street, and even kiteflying and top-spinning go on in spite of difficulties and imminent risk of destruction, f have seen nothing to answer that here, and I have sometimes asked myself why. Sitting at my open window in the evenings, I rarely hear the crying or shouting of children as I heard it ceaselessly in the air of New York; yet if Ilook abroad I see them, in numbers almost as numerous, but with such modifications of nature that they play quietly and with eminent self-control. I have sometimes supposed thrt it was because gardens are more usual, and imagine that the children took refuge in them, but this does not explain it, for the sidewalks and the open thoroughfares are as popular at the Hub as elsewhere in this country. The families are gathered under the porch and the little ones play up and down the shady avenues, but they certainly do not shout and scream as they do in noisy New York. Why is this? Are they becoming more like those wonderful Ja pauese and Chinese children of whom we read, who cannot, or at all events, do not care to erv? Hardly, for they have an intellectual activity unequaled anywhere. Is it that the serious aspect of life overshadows their spirits? They are so essentially self-con-tained, so well mannered, so cultured—after all, that is the only word to express it. In the cars a small boy will rise to give, or rather to offer, his seat to a small girl; she will have too much self-respect to accept it, it is true, but both the offer and the refusal are characteristic. The newsboys do not shout and scream at the Hub. They board the cars and modestly announce their wares; and even a fire—and the fire-bell is always ringing—will only cause a stampede and none of that hoarse shouting which in New York would proclaim the fact. Ah. well! after all, one asks one’s self is it a good thing? Is it, after all, a sign of healthy childhood? The little ones in a well-bred English family are always quiet before visitors, often preternaturally so before their parents, but everyone who knows anything about them knows that they make up for it at other times, and a garden full of healthy youngsters will resound with shouts and laughter. And there is a great miss in this here. Do the children laugh enough? They take their pleasure so calmly and critically that one sometimes thinks they must be chilled by the ice-cream they de vour. They are so reticent in expressing delight that even at a theater they remain passive. Culture is a great thing, no doubt, but one sometimes feels that it is too serious a matter if it turns laughter-loving, active children into demure automata. Can we not have the culture and keep the high spirits? Give them the advantages of the earliest possible education, as that is insisted upon, and yet let them rejoice in the animal nature that, after all, for thfi first quarter of their lives ought to predominate. Professor Fiske taught the Concord philosophers, the otlior day, that the longer the infancy the greater the intellectual development, but we are wiser than men of science, and do onr best to shorten the period of infancy and turn our babes into men and women. An old proverb says: “Children will be children.” We, for our part, heartily wish that they would remain so, and that an anti-educational wave might leave some of them in happy ignorance. Bee-Keeping in Cities. ' Talk with a Bee Dealer in New York Eveninc Post. About ten years • ago we began to keep bees in this city, at first merely as an experiment, and to our astonishment we found that they did almost as well as the bees in the country. We soon established an apiary of forty hives on top of the American Express Company’s building in Hudson street, and in 1878 took from a single hive 123 pounds of choice comb honey. Our success induced several persons in different cities to repeat onr experiment, and to-day there are extensive apiaries in Chicago, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Baltimore and New Orleans. In this city and in Brooklyn persons are keeping bees, mostly on housetops, and are doing remarkably well, their reports varying from 75 to 130 pounds of honoy to the hive; not gathered from the sugar-houses or from the gutters, as some persons have asserted, but from flowers in all the parks, gardens, and yards of the city, the variety being so great that some are in bloom every day during the summer season. One of our city customers, a clergyman living on Twenty-fourth street, reported that from one of his roof hives he got 116 pounds of honey last summer. We know of about 360 hives that are kept in the city. Last year we extracted about GOO pounds of choice honey while the ailanthus trees were in bloom, at our apiary in Park Place, this city. We do not keep our bees merely to raise honey, but for increase of stock and queen raising, and only took the honey out in order to give place to the queen to deposit eggs. Last October we shipped from this roof apiary ‘ll2 full stocks of bees to the island of Cuba, where they have increased to over 600 hives, and have given an enormous quantity of honey. We have Just completed for this Cuban apiary the largest honey extractor in the world, capable of throwing out 6,000 pounds of honey daily; the combs thus emptied of tlieir honey are returned to the bees and the process repeated sometimes three or four times a week during the honey flow, and the combs thus used will last for years. Such is the wide-spread interest in bees that a National Bee-keepers’ Association is maintained with minor associations in many counties, and in all the States. At the convention of these societies all matters affecting this industry are discussed by intelligent and practical men. Apparatus for carrying on the business are exhibited and criticised, and statistics concerning the business are given. Premature Loss of Hair May b 6 entirely prevented by the use of Burnett’s Cocoaine. The superiority of Burnett’s Flavoring Extracts consists in their perfect purity and strength.

THE MICROSCOPE. Its Uses and Bevelations. Written for tbe Journal by a Fellow of the Royal Microscopical Society. Some weeks ago, the Journal cast some reflections upon men of science, and those who have facilities for scientific study, for not being more liberal in contributing of their knowledge to the general information, through the press. Believing your criticism just, at least to some extent, and no one else having responded, I have concluded, with your consent, to contribute an occasional chapter to “The Microscope, Its Uses and Revelations,” if I find they are appreciated. Ido not write these articles for the advanced scientific student, but for those who have the spirit of observation, and who desire to know something of the unseen world lying every where about us. For years I have had the use of a microscope, and, by giving odd moments and leisure hours, of evenings, to its use, I have become acquainted with many hundreds of the minute forms of life about us, and many other facts in histology, biology and kindred sciences, without, in any degree, trespassing upon time that belonged to my other business. Others may surely do as well. Many hours given to idleness and loafing might be well improved in this way. The observations recorded in these articles shall be chiefly my own, drawn from experience, not from reading. The microscope is, as its name implies, an instrument for making visible small things. It may be either simple or compound. A simple microscope is composed of one or more lenses in a single combination, and is usually adapted to examining comparatively large objects only. A compound microscope is composed of two or more' lenses, arranged in two or more systems, and generally consists of an abjective, the lense nearest to the object, and an eye-piece—the lens nearest the eye, and an intervening tube. The eye-piece magnifies the image formed by the objective. Microscopes vary greatly in their degree of excellence. An instrument that will give fair satisfaction, and do ordinary work, can be had for $25 to SSO. One that will do a great variety of work, give much pleasure and be very useful in ftffording information, may be had for SSO to SIOO. Os course, the best instruments cost more than these figures. One who is not acquainted with microscopes, will always do well, in making a selection, to get the assistance of someone who has experience. The magnifying power of a microscope depends upon the objective, eye-piece and length of tube. Eyepieces and objectives are movable, and we use as many different combinations of them as we may desire, on the same stand, thus varying the power at pleasare. For example, if the tube of our microscope be ten inches long, and our objective have a foeal distance of one inch, we have a magnifying power of ten diameters, equal to 100 area; if we now put into the upper end of the tube an eye-piece of one inch focal distance, we shall magnify the image formed by the objective ten times, and the object, with this combination, will be magnified ten times ten diameters, or 100, equal to 10.000 area. If we use an eye-piece of one half inch focus we shall have 20 by 10, or 200 diameters; or if we use a half-inch objective and a one-incli eye-piece, we have the same result. In speaking of the magnifying power of a microscope, we usually have reference to diameter, and not area. To find the area, square the diameter, A third lens is sometimes used between the objective and eye-piece, called an amplifier, whieh magnifies the image formed by the objective before it reaches the eye-piece. By using objectives and eye pieces of different powers, and by lengthening the tube by means of wliat is called a draw-tube, and by use of an amplifier, where very great power is desired, we may have a magnifying power in the same microscope varying from five, or less, to 10,000 diameter, or more; but it is seldom we use more than 1,000 diameters with profit. Most microscopical work does not require an amplification of more than 400 to 500 diameters. All material things visible to the naked eye are aggregations, made up of parts. The smallest particle that the eye can perceive is composed of a vast number of parts. The microscope, also, reveals to us a great number of animals and plants so small that the unaided eye cannot see them, yet these, too, are compound, and have many parts, yet are perfect and complete in themselves If we take a drop of stagnant water, not larger than a small pin-head, and examine it under sufficient power, a great variety of plant and animal life will, most likely, be revealed to us, of rare beauty and great activity. If it be a particle of some stone that we examine, we find thousands of exquisite shells and remains of animal and plant life, which lived, it may be, millions of years ago; if we examine some minute part of the human body we shall find glands, vessels, cells and structures of great importance, all most perfectly adapted to their work; if it be a leaf, we find a wonderfully complicated network of cells, fibres, hairs, openings and vessels. Everything examined, under the magic power of our microscope, reveals something new; something before unseen and unknown. A consideration that greatly recommends the use of the microscope is the fact that it is never too cold or hot, too dry or wet, too cloudy or bright for work. It works well by daylight or lamp-light. There is always something for ex amination and study. By its use a world of life and beauty, otherwise utterly unknowable,. is made known. Our ideas and notions of things are greatly changed and enlarged. Plants become living things, many of them marvellous motions and powers. We find them performing most exquisite and graceful maneuvers, moving in all directions, and traveling from place to place. We find other plants living in wonderfully beautiful glass houses, chased with lines and sculptured as no human hand can sculpture. We see through and through plants and animals, and observe all their varied internal structures and motions. In the series of articles to follow this, I shall describe some of these wonderful forms found everywhere about us. I will also, from time to time, describe methods of work, and the uses of the microscope in daily life, in detection of adulteration of foods and medicines, its uses in medicine, in the sciences, and, possibly, its bearings upon philosophy, and scientific and religious theories. Our pond and river waters are so full of minute life that wo hardly know where to begin to describe the many interesting creatures we come across. A few days ago, in passing a stagnant pond, I observed a red scum covering quite an area. To the unaided eye it looked like a fine red dust, with here and there patches of a greenish yellow dust among it. I gathered a small quantity of the water in a small bottle, and, at evening, put a drop of it upon a glass slide, a slip of glass one by three inches, and laid a very thin piece of glass over the drop gently. (A thin piece of mica will do very well for a cover glass.) I then* jffoceeded to examine the contents of the drop of water with powers ranging from seventyfive to 1,500 diameters, and the microscope soon showed a groat number of slowly moving red bodies of all shapes. Some were drawn out quite long; others were round; others shaped much like a flat turnip; others looked like round dumb-bells, and they were engaged in changing their shapes quite frequently, but all were evidently of the same species. I could not say they had any particular shape, for by the time I could describe one it would nave assumed some other form. When stretched out at full length they looked much like a long cigar, rather blunt and rounded at one end and sharp pointed at the other. The rounded, end is the head, and has a small notch, or slight indentation, in its end, and at or near this emerges a very delicate, whip-like appendage about as long as the body of the animal, which is called a flagella, which it keeps in quite rapid motion. It takes a good lens and careful handling to see this. It also has a small mouth that is very difficult to see. Just back of the mouth is, generally, a small clear spot or lina Still further back is another, and sometimes two clear spots, one of which may often be observed to open and shut with a Kind of rythmical motion. This is called a contractile vessicle. The body seems to consist of a very thin and delicate sack filled with red or green grains called cells. Sometimes the red cells greatly exceed the green in number, and sometimes the reverse is true. Sometimes onehalf the body is green and the other half red. It goes through a great many changes of form and condition. At one time it is a sphere en-

closed in a mass of clear, transparent jelly, collected in colonies of varying number. In time it emerges from this jelly and becomes free. If a glass of.water containing them be placed near a window, they will collect in a red mass on the side nearest the light. They multiply by division mostly, if not wholly. I have frequently observed the process. The first sign of division is, usually, the appearance of the nuclei; then appears a small notch in the front end. This continues to extend further and further down the body till it is completed, aiid the one becomes two. During this process the body undergoes many twistings and contortions, and tbe two parts appear to be tiding to pull apart. Sometimes, when the division is nearly completed, I have observed part of tho granules, or cells, from one-lialf of the body flow into the other half through the narrow band of union between them. When the division is complete, each half, as an independent, new creature, sets up for itself. Each of these, in turn, undergoes division, and thus the species multiplied. This process is called fission, and is a very commou process of multiplication among the lower forms of life. There has been some controversy as to the name and classification of this animalcule, but it is commonly called astasia haematoides, from the Greek word astasia, inconstant, changeable, and the Greek words for blood-like. It is very abundant, at this time, and will repay examination. It serves as food for many of the lower forms of life. A great many other interesting things might be told about our astasia, but space will not permit. Newcastle, Tnd., Ang. 8, 1891. THE MOXA. Not Such a Terrible Instrument of Torture After AIL Detroit Poet. “The ‘firing process’ is rapidly growing in use said a Detroit doctor to a Post reporter the other day. “The idea of rubbing a white hot instrument of steel down ones spinal column is naturally horrifying even to a person of strong nerves, yet many women resort to the operation as the only means that seem calculated to afford relief to their sufferings.” “is there any danger in it?” was asked. “Not a particle. I will describe a case to you just to show you how much at fault the impression of many people is. A widow lady of this city, who was afflicted with spinal disease of an aggravated character, had for some time been one of my patients. She had been a sufferer for ten or twelve years, and was consequently growing worse. I suggested the firing process, but she had heard so many exaggerated reports about the operation that at first her mind revolted at the mere thought of the thing. As time progressed her condition became quite serious. She was fast losing the use of her lower limbs, and her eyesight was failing rapidly. Like most persons' in her situation, the fear of death overcame all other fears, and she finally consented to the operation. The procedure in her cake was the same as in scores of others I have handled. “The spinal column was bared, and by pressing at different points along the column, or on each of the spinous processes, the exact location of the disease was ascertained. It was found to be near the lower portion of the spine, where the lumbar and sacral nerves emerge from the spinal column and unite to form the great sciatic nerves that extend through the lower limbs. While the seat of the trouble was being located, an assistant placed the patient under the influence of choloroform, and in three seconds the ‘firing was all over. The patient showed no symptoms of pain when the heated instrument was applied, and when restored to consciousness by the use of aqua ammonia was surprised to learn that the burning had taken place, as she had not felt any pain. She experienced very little discomfort when restored to the full possession of her sensibilities.” '• “What was the effect of the operation?” “To restore- the use of the lower limbs. It also materially benefited the lady's eyesight. But to secure the best results with the eye? a similar operation would be necessary further up the spine over the region of the cervical nerves.” “What is the theory of the method?” “It is that the spinal cord is inflamed, and that the burning produces a discharging wound, which, by revulsion, draws the inflammation to the surface. Its effect is in kind like that of the'blisters and counter-irritants employed by most physicians, only it is more powerful and effective. The trouble with blisters, in my judgment, is that they are not sufficiently strong, while I consider them more painful in tho long run than the firing process.” “Do you always employ chloroform?” “No. In many cases I do not consider it .necessary. In fact, it is seldom that there is an imperative need of it. I never burn the back in more than three places—once over the spine itself and once each side of it—and the operation is also over in two or three seconds. Sometimes only two marks are made, and they are rarely over six inches in length, and sometimes only four. When tbe burning is completed, dressings are applied to the burned parts and are replaced by others as the soreness is removed. Thus all the inflammation of the spine is drawn out. Besides spinal diseases the remedy is efficacious in cases of epileptic fits, paralysis, either paraplegia or hemaplegia. locomotor ataxia, and any affection where counter-irritation is needed.” "How long has firing been employed by physicians?” “I can not tell when it originated. No one, I suppose, can tell,just how long it has been used. Actual cautery, that is, burning by hot irons in distinction from burning by caustic medicines, has long been a resort of practitioners in very serious cases, but with the rude instruments employed in years past it was an operation much more to be dreaded than the firing as it is done at the present day. Ten or fifteen years ago polished steel, heated to the requisite degree by the best means available, was used. “In my own practice I formerly used a glass rod in preference to steel, because the flesh adheres to the steel. The steel usually takes the cuticle off with it, while the glass does not. Great care is necessary in using tho glass rod, however. \NJhen it is being heated it is liable to crack and fly into a thousand pieces, causing serious injury. I now employ an instrument made by Charriere, of Paris. The French, you know, employ the firing process much oftener than wo do hero in America, and I believe all the improved instruments come from France. This that I have is known as the ‘thermo cautiere.’ The principal thing is the rod itself, which is hollow, and’ composed of a peculiar metal. The end of tne rod is first heated, not necessarily to a very great degree, and then by means of rubber tubes and a pump a gas is forced into the red and by its action rapidly heats the end of the rod to a white heat The operation is then performed." "Are there many doctors in the United States who use the method?” “Very few, although the number is increasing. Some very prominent physicians now employ it. There are Dr. Hammond, of New York, ana Dr. Pancoast, of Philadelphia, and others that I might name who often 'fire tlie back' very successfully.” Banker Eno as a Curiosity.. Quebec Letter in New York Poßt. The fashionable promenade of the city, where our countryman Eno perambulates and talks stocks and figures as a hero, is Dufferin terrace. As ho walks along the passers-by eye him curiously and heads are turned. It is said that a caleche was rushing down hill the other day with a tourist aboard with field-glass in one hand and guide-book in the other, when suddenly the driver hauled the horse on his haunches. The tourist lunged forward, while the driver hoarsely whispered: “Regardez la monsieur!” “What is it?” saked the curious American, raising his glass and seeing only a good-looking man. “Monsieur Eno," was the reply. Another cabby, in enumerating the places of interest to be seen, said: “Martelln Towers, Grand Battery, Esplanade, Citadel, Hotel Dieu Convent, Morrin Collego.Ursuline Convent, Parliament buildings, Basilica, Angelican Cathedral, etc.—all dis for two dollare; but for two dollars and feefty cent I weel deesplay Monsieur Eno." So if Eno stands in with the cabmen, as did a certain English nobleman, it would pay him well The true remedy for consumption mustnecessarily hitve a tonic effect on the whole system, as well as posseting a soothing and healing virtue that exercises itsC.'f directly on those parts weakened and irritated by coughing. Such a remedy is Dr. Wistar’s Ba:^ 1 ® of wild Cherry. Its magic influeneo in removing sorenJJ® .°* 7* 0 throat and lungs, cujing coughs and colas. stroying the germs of consumption and inviting sweet repose to the uervous system Is unexcelled by any other remedy known to physicians.

SUMMER STYLES. Hoop ear-rings are worn more than any other style. Fastidious women declare that lace is becoming too popular. Another velvet season is announced for both dresses and wraps. The baby waist is worn by nine-tenths of the young ladies at Saratoga this summer. The Marie Antoinette fichu of lace or muslin, elaborately frilled with lace, is revived. White and ecru serges, sprinkled with black or brown spots, are used for skirts of fall suits, with jersey waists. For excursions and traveling, red and blue and plaided handkerchiefs are worn around the neck instead of ruffles or collars. Dog-collars and bracelets to match, both broad when the neck is long enough toadmitof abroad collar, is the accepted style. Feather tans are extremely fashionable in evening dress, and the latest styles from Vienna are made of pure dowuy white plumage. borne jerseys cost one hundred dollars, but they are niasses of beads 'and embroidery, with lace stripes, and are not any prettier than some that cost only a few dollars. Toilet accessories receive great attention. Laces of all sorts for tho neck are in order, from the simple square of twill or net, to the more elaborate arrangement of point lace. Dark colors are to be much worn, and ox-blood red is mentioned as among the coming shades. The new blues will bo grayish in tint, and seal and wood browns are to be very popular. The cool summer has made wraps more than ever popular, and mantles, scarfs, shoulder capes, shawls, sacques, every possible wrap for cool afternoons and evenings, is to bo seen. Wide sashes of ottoman ribbon or of surali are worn in Paris this summer, and are chosen to match the bonnet, or the parasol, or some other accessory of the dress, rather than of the color of the dress itself. An eccentric novelty in a tight-fitting jacket has made its appearance, consisting of coarse, brown Turkish toweling, trimmed with a full twine fringe and ornamentea with large, brown wooden buttons representing dogs’ heads. An old sunshade stripped of its former cover may be easily recovered to match any costume. The work is not difficult, and will pay just now, when the effect of uniformity in dress details, now so studied, requires a change of parasol for time, place and costume. Autumn Tints. Harper’s Bazar. Woolen stuffs promise to remain in favor for street dresses, and velvets for carriage costumes. In new wool fabrics plain self colors, small figures, and stripes of various widths make up the bulk of the importations. For solid colors, dahlia, plum, prune, and heliotrope shades are largely imported in fine cashmeres, in lady’s clotli, in Astrakhans, and the rough bison cloths: various shades of mushroom, seal, and the golden browns are also represented. It is prophesied that green of brighter shades than those lately worn will be used for the winter dresses; the cresson green now in favor in Paris appears iu figures on darker wool grounds, and there are moss and bronze shades, but less olive green than was seen last winter. Seaside Jackets Across the Water. Woman Reporter, In London Truth. Anew kind of jacket for evening wear at the seaside lias made its appearance, and is worn with a skirt of batiste and lace or vicugna, as the case may be. The jacket, of gray or blue, is tight-fitting, with dark velvet collar and cuffs. Very smart jackets of the same kind are made in white cloth, with chestnut velvet collar and cuffs and gold buttons. For very slender figures there are pretty Hungarian vests, short and tight, and covered with gold lace. The oldfashioned cache-poussiere is now quite exploded, and is replaced by the grande duchesse reaingote or pelisse, of a light-gray material, covered with embroidery of tho same color and as long as the dress. The Swi minin’ Place. R. J. Burdette in Burlington Hawkert. I mean “swimming place?” Not much I do not. I mean swimmin’ place. I never heard it called anything else, and I’ve been right there at the place, and swum—no, not swam, we didn’t swam in thpse days, swum—swum in it a thousand times, and you never saw the place I don’t suppose. There was one boy, come to think of it, who called it a swimming place. He came from Vermont; bis uncle was a. judge, or governor, or shoemaker’, or something of that kind. He said awftahnoon and grawss and he called a burr 1 a buh. He came up to Charley Eltiug’s with us one “awl tali noon" and said it was a charming swimming place, and asked Bud Peters if the “watah was waliin.” Bud he told him how warm it was, and then said it was cooler and nicer in the shade, right where the big flat rock was. And this boy who called it a swimming place, he went down to the big rock —you remember, right under the ice chute?—and jumped in. There were two things that combined, as Bud Peters had truly said, to make the water cooler for all, and nicer for some purposes, right by the big fiat rock. One was a living spring of clear, cold water that came gushing up out of the deep, cold, sunless caverns of tho earth right there. The other was the rock was also the terminal point of a drain from the big ice-houses, and the water from the melted ice, whenever it melted, mingled its frostiness with the limpid currents of the spring, and thus developed a latent heat that couldn’t have been much latenter in an iceberg. As 1 remarked, right hero the boy who called it a swimming place jumped in. Now, if a boy feels to -say that ho would like to holler, I am the one to get up every time and move the unanimous consent of the houso that he may holler with a free course, and no restraint or embarrassment So. when this boy, after jumping into about five feet of ice-water, gave oue horrified gasp that was enough to curdle the ice, and then held his breath for a second, and stood with his two eyes standing out past his nose, and thrust his hands, with all fingers extended, high up in the air. I knew that he was seized with a strange, morbid desire to make a little noise, 60 I said to my comrades: “Fellows, stand back and give him plenty of room. He's going to holler, and he’ll need all the air he can get I fell off the chute into that spring once myself.” You see how a broad experience in this life enables us to put ourselves more thoroughly in our neighbor's place, and deepens and intensifies our sympathies. Tho next moment my gloomy forebodings were realized. The nice boy “hollered.” A wild, free howl, that spread its sweeping pinions on the blast and went booming over the waste of waters like a thing of life, and wakened a thousand discordant echoes in the distant hills beyond the startled lake. And the half-clad boys on the pebbly shore danced like wild cannibals in tlioir savage glee, and shrieked in mocking echo of the nice boy's howl, and cast sand upon each other's red ribbed backs to show their joy. And when that boy floundered and fluttered ashore, and stood there, shivering and gasping In the life giving rays of the July sun, we lay down on the ground and held our aching sides with penitent hands, and only asked the one poor boon, that the ice house might fall over on top of us right then and there. Only one boy, who had enjoyed himself more than the others, asked that some kind person would amputate his limbs, or, as he rudely expressed himself in song, “Saw my leg off.” Then we rubbed the cold boy with dry sand until we got him nice and warm and red and real tender, and he became a good boy and went' with us often, and learned many things, and we evidently taught him to say “swimmin’ hole.” But to the end of bis days his provincial accent clung to him, and lie spelled rat. “all a-t,'r-r-r----rat,” and called a war horse a wah hoss.” Daniel's 'Optics Opened. Merchant Traveler. Since Daniel, prohibition candidate for Vicepresident, lias gone regularly into politics, he has begun to discover what Daniel in the lyin’s den really means. “He who is false to present duty," says Henry Ward Beecher, “breaks a thread in the loom, and will find the flaw when he may have forgotten its cause.” A case in point occurs to us. Mr. Wm. Ryder, of 87 Jefferson street, Buffalo, N. Y., recently told a reporter that, “I had a large abscess on each leg, that kept continually discharging for twenty years. Nothing did me any good except Dr. Pierce’s ‘Golden Medical Discovery.' It cured me.” Here is a volume I express'.. ia & few words. Mr. Ryder’s experience is entitled to readers’ careful consider*I tiou.—The Sun.