Indianapolis Journal, Volume 52, Number 145, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 May 1902 — Page 25

TAUT TITISEE. THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SUNDAY, 31 AY 25, 1902.

THE BIRD-STOMACH MAN How Uncle Sam Plays Providence to the Birds. The Gastrologist and His Court of Inquiry-. Diet of the Cuckoo and Other Birds. An Indictment of the English Sparrowand the Bobolink.

The feud between the bird and the farmer Is as ancient as the first cornfield. Perhaps though it sounds ugly I ought to fay the feud between bird and man. The confederate birds of Aristophanes' comedy sang of men as men, "Enemies time out of mind." Who doubts, had they as frank an Interpreter to-day, they would chorus no more nattering refrain? Vic ray them the subtle compliment of borrowing- their plumage; we make capital of them for the writings of rollte poetry and ladylike prose, and we give them a short shrift at the end of a gun barrel. I have not forgot the humane societies. But they ask for birdklnd not justice, but mercy, resting their plea not on science, but on sentiment. Or if they touch at all upon the Intrinsic worth,of birds It Is in a feeble, apologetic fashion almost as damning as calumny.. In these latte- days the birds have found a new advocate, all-kind, but all-wise, whom for lack of a better name we call Uncle Sam. He has taken up the cause of the birds In the most practical, least poetic way in the world. He is as slow as Time and as Just. And he has accomplished In years what centuries of cooing sentimentalism have not been able to do. He has established the economic position of the birds and their well-earned right to the life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. To see the justification of blrdkind in progress, you have only to prowl, as I did, about the buildings of the Agricultural Department at Washington until you stumble upon that oddest of laboratories, where the bird Inquisition is held. The chief inquisitor is certainly not a botanist, nor is he a chemist, nor is he yet an entomologist, nor even, strictly speaking, an ornithologist. Yet he is all of these and more. He Is, by your leave, an ornithological gastrologist. "Washington knows him familiarly as "the Bird-Stomach Man." In his little crowded den he holds a perpetual court of inquiry for Indicted birdkind. The plaintiffs are usually farmers who charge the feathered defendants with having pulled up their sprouting corn or nipping the ripening fruit. But one sort of testimony is accepted the damning evidence of stolen goods in the possession of the accused. Now since the silly bird hides all hla stealings in his little Inside, nothing sort of a surgical operation will furnish valid evidence; the prisoner dies in his own defense. Like the unfortunate criminals in Looking Glass Land, he is first punished and then proved guilty; or if innocent, "so much the bettter." WORKINGS OF THE COURT. The gastrologist. In his own person judge. Jury and prosecuting attorney, found time to show me the Internal workings of his little court. Indicating with a wave of his hand long shelves full of ranked phials, which mounted to the very ceiling of the little laboratory, he said: "These are birds' stomachs." He took down a bottle and . ut it in my hand. It held something not unlike a sea cucumber, in alcohol. On ihe r.eat label was inscribed the scientific name of the legitimate proprietor of the stomach (peace to his ashes.'), the locality where he was captured, and the date of arrest. The specimen in my hand was ten years old. Rallied upon the ungenerosity of raking up scandal about a bird which had been In its gra'-e for a decade or more, the scientist smiled. "We are behind with our work," he admitted. "Some of these cases have been on the calendar for fourteen years; it may be twenty-four years before some of them are called." Specimens come in from every section of the country, sent by irate farmers, or by agents of the biological survey, afield, each stomach arriv.ng in alcohol, duly tagged with the scientific or common name of the bird which wore it. In the laboratory it gets a number, has its date and locality carefully filed in a fat ledger, and then goes to swell the company of phials on the shelves. How it was possible to make anything definite cf the contents of a tiny stomach after several years' sojourn in alcohol I could not see. I begged for enlightenment. Turning to a low table beside a window, the gastrologist pointed out a crystal saucer holding a few drops of clean water, with a fleet of little brown specks sailing about in it. "There," said he, "is the evidence against one bird the contents of his poor little stomach." Inspection satisfied me he could never distinguish that bird's menu; there wasn't a ghost of a clew. "Let me see," mused the scientist, bending over the saucer. "That bird dined off. let me see-e, four grubs, a little fruit and eix eld" fishing out an Infinitesimal speck and thrusting it under a microscope. "Yes, as I thought, sambucus canedensis. common elderberry seeds." The seeds were incontrovertible, but my eyes must have shown I thought the rest pure romancing. For, seizing a delicate forceps, he poked about in the saucer and pointed out a floating rag: of what looked to be filmy brown seaweed. "That," he said. "i3 the fruit, what kind I would not like to say. Now, look close. Do you see eight little black crescents?" Peering between screwed up eyelids, I had to confess I did. "Well." said the professor, "what more do you want? There are your grubs, all that's left of them their little hard mandibles. I shouldn't like to specify the variety of grub." he went on. with a twinkle, "without further examination. But it's a clear case cf grubs." Offering a chair, he then and there let me into the mysteries of his strange calling. NOT A SIMPLE MATTER. The identification of the individual scraps of a bird's dietary Is. it sctms. scarcely the simple matter it has Just been made to appear. To succeed at it you must know something about everything. The minutest pirts of insect anatomy are the A, B. C of the task, the surest means of identifying species. Yon must know every living seed, w ild and cultivated, from the least unto the greatest. Helps over hard places may be got from specialists in other laboratories; but very learned men are prone to overlook minute details which are all-important in gasiro'ogy. For example, the most profound of botanists may be confounded by the smallest of weed seeds. And that Is the pice de resistance of bird menus. So the bird-stomach man has founded a sreat seed catalogue, and depends upon that fcr his own five wits. With all this the work is set thick with pitfalls. You discover an enigmatical trace of something or other which baffles you. You call in a botanist, and he squints at it through a microscope and pronounces It officially "not vegetable matter." You send for a geologist, and he pishes and pshaws and declares the substane "not mineral." You appeal to & biologist, and he, too, repudiates it. It is "not animal." The results of all this curious Investigation hav ben overwhelmingly in favor of the birds. In a great card catalogue Is Sled away the evidence in the cases of tome 2,000 bird whose stomachs have been examined In the laboratory cf the biological survey. Out of the whole number there are a good many Individual birds with black iecords against them.

Taking out a big glass jar full of tiny gray skulls and delicate bones, the gastrologist said: "There was once a pair of barn owls, which lived in the tower of the Smithsonian Institution. You know, of course I didn't, though that owls gulp their prey skin and bones and feathers, too. Well, skin and bones and feathers and fur being indigestible, the owl's discerning stomach whirls them around and around till the sharp bones are neatly wrapped in skin, and then the owl incontinently spews the parcel- out of his mouth. When you want evidence about the owl's dietary, these pellets furnish all that Is required. In this Jar are the contents of two hundred such peMets, collected In the Smithsonian tower. Here Is the index: 213 field mice, 20 shrews, 2 pine mice, 173 house mice, 20 rats, 6 jumping mice, 1 starnosed mole and 1 vesper shrew. All rodents, so you see. Not a single bird." Finding the judge In this lenient mood, I

ventured to inquire whether any charitable construction could be put upon the English sparrow. But the court rose In wrath and condemned him, root and branch, sleeping and waking, going out and coming in. "Wretched Immigrant that he is," fumed the gastrologist; "he has no excuse for being. He delights to nip buds and blossoms from fruit trees and to crunch the tender shoots of vines. As for noxious worms, he not only will not eat them, but he cannot; they don't agree with him. And he has driven away scores of good birds who could and would. He is the ruffianly ally of tent caterpillars, army worms and all their loathly kind. To death with the English sparrow!" It was all very well to have tirades poured out upon that alien disturber cf the summer peace, the sparrow. But the unmasking of the sacred bobolink was a much more painful thing. That saint of the vernal calendar is officially pronounced a feathered Jekyll and Hyde. One-half of his deceitful dual existence he spendä in the North, brave of plumage, thirftily rearing his family and flooding the New England meadows with his gurgling song. The other half of the year he puts on a disguise of plain brown feathers, adopts an assumed name, goes South and plunges into marauding more deeply shameful than those of any other member of his not overscrupulous tribe. A BOLD, BAD BIRD. As the "rice bird," an evil omened thief, he settles down upon the Southern coasts after a long sea flight from South America just as the young rice is sprouting, r or a little while he devotes himself to uprooting the crop, working with a thoroughness which would put an end to rice raising if he kept at It very long. But mating time draws him North for his lent of good be havior. By mid-August, though, he reappears in the rice fields with his new raised family a bold, bad bird. And he comes in thousands. From this time till the latter part of September the distracted planters strain their ingenuity to Intimidate the hardy robbers. They post boys with guns every acre or so through the crops with instruc tions to cease firing only when the sun goes down. They impale putrid meat on stakes to draw frightful buzzards: they crack whips; they fly terrible kites. But if the rice has been planted to meet the birds, that Is, so as to be "in the milk" when they appear, the gluttons, in spite of all the din that can be raised, never rise from the crop until it is not worth harvesting. By planting a first crop unnaturally early so as to nave u under water wnen tne birds pass north and a second one to ripen after they have gone south the planters contrive to lose In the aggregate not more than $2,000,000 a year through the visits of the blessed bobolinks. In the face of such evidence but one sen tence can be pronounced upon the bobo links death. But who is to execute It? The rice planters are doing already what they can. But you cannot shoot a rice bird ren-handed, so to speak, without damage to the crop. Manifestly the way to get rid of the bobolink would be to attack him off his guard in New England. That you will never persuade New England to do. She will go on protecting her black and yel low Jekyls, and the rice planters may look after their own thievish Hydes. From time to time the government, by proxy of the Bird-stomach Man and his assistants, Issues detailed reports of the findings of the gastrologist. The argu ments for and against one species of bird after another are spread before the public. together with an official summing up of the case. These reports furnish the raw ma terial for State legislatures and makers of local bird laws to base their proceedings upon. But they don't stop with the ver diet. They go on to suggest remedies for the depredations of birds which are more good than bad. The farmer who Is not mollified by being told that the crow which steals his grain also devours Inscets which are worse than he. Is urged to tar his corn before he sows it. This simple device makes it quite unpalatable for the most unscrupulous or crows. orchard owners who grudge the cherry birds a share of their fruit are advised to plant a few wild trees among the cultivated, for birds of all varities prefer the bitter and insipid flavors of wild fruit to choicest products of cultivation. Some of the remedies suggest ed are too remotely efficacious to be very consoling. As when the reports prophesy relief for the Western farmer from grain filching birds when civilization shall have so completely subdued the prairie that all the smaller marshes and ponds the favor ite breeding places of crop-destroyers shall be drained and the birds shall decrease until their lessened number make them no more a terror to agriculture. The burden of the reports Is, however, not the sins, but the virtues of birds as birds. They dwell upon the tons of weedseed gobbled up every winter, upon the immense yearly inroads made on all man ner of insect pests. They reiterate the aw ful warning of Longfellow's poem about

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HE KNEW. Eddie Say, pop, cat' a chalk talk? Ul Father A milkmen' convention.

the people of Kllllngworth town, who slew all the birds, and thereafter "Hosts of devouring Insects crawled and found No foe to check their march till they had made The land a desert without leaf or shade." MARY BRONSON HARTT.

IN THE GOSSIP'S CORNER. Several weeks ago I was asked in connec tion with certain other matters that have been touched on In these notes for some nformation that at that time I was unable to give. You will remember that I printed herein a chapter from George Borrow's Lavengro" descriptive of the funeral of Lord Byron, in which the narrator makes several allusions to "that ode," which, with "Childe Harold," he deemed sufficient to assure the lasting fame of Byron. The dentlty of "that ode" was one of the mat ters inquired of. In another chapter of "Lavengro" the hero, seeking a publisher for some of his poems and translations. speaks several times of "Glorious John," who had been recommended to him as the particular friend and patron of young writers of merit. "Glorious John" also is spoken of in "The Romany Rye." by the same author, and the identity of this beneficent publisher was another matter of which information was sought. XXX Having no knowledge of my own regard ing these points I went right to headquar ters, and I have no doubt that what I learned there will be of great interest to the growing clan of "Borrowltes" In In diana. The authorized editions of the Bor row, books are published, as they have been for decades, by John Murray, of No. 50 Albemarle street, London, W., and I knew that John Murray In several generations had been a publisher of note in the world's metropolis. In fact, John Murray II. grandfather of the present John Murray, was Byron's publisher and friend, and the best Byron editions still come from the Murray press. The same is true of the Borrow books. From these facts I in curred a belief that I am now able to con firm. Mr. Murray, under date of April 15, wrote to me as follows: ' 'Glorious John' was my grandfather, and 'the ode,' I have every reason to believe, was 'The Isles of Greece,' which cre ated an amazing literary and political sen sation on its publication." XXX He also informs me that his new edition de luxe of Byron's works, life and letters, which was quoted at a guinea (21s) a volume, there being twelve volumes in the set, is completely exhausted. The standard edition is in the hands of the Scribners for the American trade. Regarding the revival of Interest in Byron, to which I have alluded heretofore, Mr. Murray says: "The revived interest in Byron not only as a poet, but as a letter writer in all parts of the world during the past few years is remarkable." XXX The ode In question, "The Isles of Greece," is too long for reproduction here, as it consists of sixteen verses ninety-six lines. It 13 found in the third canto of Don Juan, following Stanza 86. However, here are the first and last verses: "The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace Where Delos rose, and Thoebus sprung I Eternal summer gilds them yet. But all, except their sun, is set. "Place me on Sunium's marbl steep. Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine Dash down yon cup of Samlaa wine!" XXX The third and fourth cantos of Don Juan were written at Ravenna in the winter of 1819-20. Here also, and at this time, Byron wrote "Marino .Faliero." "Sardanapalus," "The Foscari," "Cain." "The Prophecy of Dante" and "Translation from Pulci." XXX A recent note of interest In the dispatches from Europe was one to the effect that the castle of Chlllon, immortalized by Byron's "Prisoner of Chlllon," had been sold, and is to be turned into a museum. The announcement, wherever published, had the immediate effect of adding to the already growing interest in the life, letters and poems of Byron, and caused a considerable increase in the demand for this particular poem. Three of Byron's most remarkable works were written at Diodati, near Geneva, Switzerland, in the summer of 1S16, just after he left England for the second and last time, and embarked on the wanderings that were to end only with his death at Missolonghi, in 1824. These were the third canto of "Chiide Harold," "Prisoner of Chlllon" and "Manfred," the third act of which, however, he subsequently rewrote. "Childe Harold," of course, stands In a class by itself, yet in but few points does it exceed the stately beauty of "Prisoner of Chlllon," and indeed, there are many who think the latter of superior merit, not only in point of beauty but also as a purer tyre of poetry and for its greater freedom from those grammatical errors which are so noticeable in many of his greatest poems. For beauty of poetic description I think there are few lines comparable with those of the first canto of this poem; few that could form so effective a setting for the romantic narration that follows. For example: "There are seven pillars of Gothic mould In Chillon's dungeons deep and old. There are seven columns massy and gTey Dim with a dull imprisoned ray A sunbeam which hath lost Its way." XXX These notes would hardly be complete without more than a passing allusion to the house of Murray, spoken of in the foregoing, and heretofore in connection .with both Byron and Borrow. The Murray publishing house was founded by John Murray, originally McMurray, who was born in Edinburgh in 1743, became an officer in the Royal Marines in 1762, but in 1.6S bought Sandby's book-selling business in London, and published the "English Review," Disraeli's "Curiosities of Literature" and other works. He died in 1703. His son. John Murray, born in 177S, who carried the business from Fleet street to Albemarle street, projected the ' "Quarterly Review," 1S02-9. First and last he paid Byron nearly 20,000 for his works, and his dealings with Crabbe (author of the famous "Synonymns")

MODERN FABLES

HUMANITY'S FOIBLES Illustrated in Three Bits of Brilliant Satire.

Copyright, 1902, by THE MODERN' FABLE OF WHAT THEY HAD LAID OUT FOR THEIR VACATION. A man who had three weeks of Vacation coming to him began to get busy with an Atlas about April 1. He and his Wife figured that by keeping on the Jump they could do Niagara, Thousand Islands, Atlantic City, The Mammoth Cave and cover the Great Lakes. On April 10th they decided to charter a House Boat and float down the Mississippi. On Arrll 20th he heard of a Cheap Excursion to California with a stop over pnvGOT BUSY WITH AN ATLAS. Hege at every Station and they began to read up on Salt Lake and Yellowstone. On May 1st she flashed a prospectus of a Northern Lake Resort where Boats and Minnows were free and Nature was ever smiling. J3y May 10th he had drawn a Blue Pencil all over a Folder of the Adirondack Region and all the Hotel Rates were set down in his Pocket Memorandum Book. Ten days later she-vetoed the Mountain Trip because she had got next to a Nantucket Establishment where Family Board was $G a Week, with the use of a Horse. On June 1st a Friend showed him how by making two Changes and Hiring a Canoe he could penetrate the Deep Woods where the Foot of Man had never Trod and the Black Bass came to the Surface and begged to be taken out. On June 15 he and WIfey packed up and did the annual Hike up to Uncle Foster's Place in Brown County, where they ate with the Hired Hand and had Greens three times a Day. There were no Screens on the Windows, but by climbing a Hill they could get a lovely View of the Pike than ran over to the County Seat. Moral: If Summer came in the Spring there would be a lot of Travel. THE MODERN FABLE OF THE GIRL WHO WANTED TO WARM UP WHEN IT WAS TOO LATE. Once there was a good Young Man who delivered Milk and sang in the Choir. He allowed his Affections to get all snarled up with a tall female Elfin named Sophy. Fate kissed him off and he lay froze against the Cushion. It appeared that Sophy had no time for him because he was about two Notches below her in the Social Scale. Sophy's father was an Auctioneer and Agent for a Patent Churn. The Young Man, whose Name was Otis, removed the Gaff from his quivering Bosom and began to lay rians to humble her Pride. After placing his Milk Route in the Hands of a Reliable Agent, he went up to HE JOINED THE SILVER CORNET BAND. the City and began to take Lessons on the Horn. He practiced until he was able to crawl inside of a big Oom-Pah and eat all of the Low Notes In the Blue Book. The Hard Part of a Sousa March was Pie for him. He could close his Eyes and run up the Scale and then down again until he struck the Newfoundland Growl coming at the end of "Rocked in the Cradle." Then he went back and joined the Silver Moore, Campbell and Irving were princely. His "Family Library" was begun in 1S29, and he issued the travels of Mungo Park, Belzonl. Tarry, Franklin and others. He died in 1S13. His son, John Murray the third, born in 1S0S, issued Livingtone's "Travels" and "Last Journals," the works of Darwin, Barrow and Smiles, Smith's "Dictionaries," and the "Handbooks for Travelers," begun in 1S-X of the first five of which he was author. lie died in 1 :"2. His son, the fourth and present John Murray, was born in London in 1S51. He was educated at Eton and Magdalen College, Oxford, and has the degree M. A. from Oxford. He was elected president of the Publishers' Association in 1S9S. He was the editor of Gibbons's "Autobiography" and other works. THE GOSSIP. The ln ret urn Inf?. A long, pray sea, and a lnc. brown sand. And matted meadows and trailing rain; A whispered word and a waving hand. Ani a ship that sails from a lonely strand Over the sea to rpatn. A flo'sr of Jfsvr.-a tide of years A ransom cf waitlr.cr pa li in vain: A watehinsr at last throuph a Mar of tears For the vanished ve?sel tjiat never appears Over the sea from j ain. Oh. drifting sealers of bloom and snow! Oh. fhips that nver return acain! The tide pwinrs late and the tiile swings low. As I watch the white-winged vessels go Over the e to Spain. Albert BIgelow Faine, in Lippincott's. Whnt tbe Lord Iirri. Harper's Weekly. The papers report that on the Sunday following the tragedy which ended the lives of Paul and Malcolm Ford. Brother Hillis, of Brooklyn, said, in his prayer, in Plymouth Church: "Bring our young men back into the church. O Lord. Save them from too great a devotion to bodily exercise, which. In the end. profUeth nothing. Save them to a love of books and pictures and a life of literary pi?asure." Too great a devotion to anything is unprofitable, but Brother Hillis seems to take a good deal for granted when he suggests

t tm 11 1 f

BY GEORGE ADE.

Robert Howard Russell. Cornet Band. On Decoration Day he was up at the Head of the Line, just behind the Grand Marshal with the Red Sash and he carried a Tuby that looked like the Entrance to a Cave. His Uniform was fancy enough for a Colonel on the Governor's Staff. When he swept down Main Street scaring all the Horses and causing the Window Panes to rattle, every one along the Line of March who knew Ote was proud of himself. Sophy saw him and got ready to do a little Hedging. After the Parade when he was in the Bon-Ton Candy Kitchen, with a Handkerchief around his Neck, ordering up Strawberry Soida, then Sophy broke through the Circle of Admirers and bade him Welcome. Otis gave her a cruel Look and pretended that he did not remember her Name. That Evening she saw him pass the House three times with the Tuby on one Arm and a red-headed Milliner on the other. Moral: Adversity often hatches out the true Nobility of Character. THE MODERN FABLE OF THE REDLETTER NIGHT AT SMARTWEED JUNCTION. Once there was an undersized Town that had the Corn-Fields sneaking up on all sides of It, trying to break over the Corporation Line. People approaching the Town from the North could not see it because there was a Row of Willow "Trees in the Way. Here In this comatose Settlement lived a Family named Pilkins. The Pilklnses were all the Eggs In Smartweed. They owned a big General Store catty-cornered from the Courthouse. It was well-known that they sent to Chicago for their Clothes and ate Ice Cream In the Winter Time. The Pilkins Girls had been away to a Convent to have their Voices sand-papered and fitted to a Piano and they came back with the first Gibson Shirt-Waist seen in these Parts. Most of the Girls south of the Tracks were just getting wise to the Russian Blouse. Along in May the Pilkins Family made its annual Play to set the Prairies on fire. Every Adult in Town, except those who had THE EVENT OF THE SEASON. Jail Records, received an Engraved Invitation to come up to the Pilkins House and take a peek at High Life. Within three days you couldn't buy a Yard of Wide Ribbon in any Store and every Second Man in Mink Patterson's Barber Shop asked for a HalrCuL The R. S. V. P. down in one Corner of the Bid had some of the Brethren guessing for a while. There was no need of putting that on. It was an immortal Cinch that every one would turn out, if he had to be moved in on a Cot. About the only Entertainments they had In Smartweed Junction -were Uncle Tom under a Tent and the Indian Medicine Troupe. Therefore, nobody was going to pass up the Pilkins Jambaree, for there was to be an imported Orchestra, costing $75, and Meals provided and the City Caterer was to bring his own Waiters. Everybody went home early that Day so as to take a good thorough Scouring before getting into their Other Clothes. At Dusk they began wending their Way toward the Pilkins Place, all looking a little worried and apprehensive. They were sorted out at the Front Door and led into Dressing Rooms, pegged out along the Walls, fed on Macaroons and treated to large Bunches of Bach Music. Every half hour or so somebody would say something and that would be a Cue for the others to shift their Feet. The Punch Bowl got the Cold Eye until it was learned that the Dye Stuff was Aniline and not Rum and then they stood around and dipped in until they were blue under the Ears. About 11 o'clock the Japanese Lanterns began to burn up and a large number of People whose Feet were hurting them could be seen quietly Ducking. The Home Paper said it was the Event of the Season. Moral: Eat, Drink and be Merry, for to-morrow ye Die. that a love of books and pictures and a life of literary pleasure necessarily find more favor in the sight of the Lord than bodily exercise. Very likely he has been misquoted, for we all believe, and doubtless he believes too, that the Lord loves righteousness, without prejudice either to books or to bodily exercise. Whatever makes for truth, health, and sanity, whether It is books, pictures, or hurdle-racing, is probably acceptable in the Lord's fight, and whatever influences harm a man's soul are probably unacceptable, even though they they may be literary. Our Morning; Tipple. Philadelphia Becord. The quantity of coffee consumed in the United States is so large in comparison with other beverages that It easily holds first place. The visible supply of coffee in the markets is now unusually large and there It assurance for a year to come of low prices. Cheap coffee will go a little way toward easing the drain upon the householder's purse consequent upon the high prices of other foodstuffs.

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KH1T 11KR WORD. Dolly I promise! mother that I wouldn't become an actreii, Hamlet Well, you kept your word all right.

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CLIFF DWELLERS' COUNTRY. A Tart of Arizona an Vet Practically I'nesplored. Mines and Mineral. The region of the extreme southwest rn corner of Colorado is a little known and but little explored land. It is nearly one hundred miles from any railroad, yet it corners on Ariozna, Utah and New Mexico. It Is a peculiar country, quite unlike thai of the rest of Colorado. It is of no little geological, economical as well as archeological interest. In the latter case it was once the home of the ancient cliff dwellers, whose curious dwellings are found in the hollows of some of the most romantic rock scenery Imaginable, whilst remains of their pottery are scattered far and wide over the land, and fragments of it can be found on almost every bluff and In great quantities in the numerous mounds forming their burying places. In some localities, too, we find relics of a grand building or fortified Inclosure, containing once many hundreds of rooms, still standing on a knoll in a wide river meadow or canyon. The ruined remains of these ancient castles, surrounded by their moats and rude fortified walls, remind us of some of the ruined Norman castles we have seen in the old country. The picturesque and wild character of the country Js further enhanced by meeting with bands of gaily-blanketed Navajo Indians followed by their bleating Kocks of goats and sheep. These primitive features are in keeping with the character of the scenery. It is a land of a wild desolation of rocks of various colors, red. pink, green and gray, sculptured by erosion Into all sorts of grotesque and picturt-sque forms, fortresses, isolated castellated rocks, rocks pinnacled like cathedral ?pires, and long sweeps of monotonous plateaux, varied by the uprise of a lofty comb of tilted rock like the dorsal iin of a fih rising high above the surface and traceable as far as eye can reach, known as the "Gr.at Hogback." In the distance a pinnacled cone of volcanic rock rises in a vertical cliff 10 feet above the level of the plateaux, known as Ship Rock, or the Needles, and in the extreme distance, north and south, are peculiar and strange little isolated groups of volcanic mountains, appearing like islands on th3 great plateau plain. These are of typlcial laceolitic origin and structure. These lone islets are all that break the monotony of the ocean of plateaux extending from Colorado into Utnh and Arizona. At Aztec, along the river, we have a fine evidence of the fast work of the cliff ijfyt w r-r

1 v J L

1 dwellers in the remains of an old fortress or fortified camp in the river bottom. The ruins stand conspicuously on the top of a knoll of sandstone. Around the rim of thia in a semicircle, the ruined buildings ar formed, the semicircle being about 4 yarda long. All the little rooms and cubby holej are close together, culminating in a more pretentious building or central tower. who? ruins are about forty feet high. This wai probably the citadel where the chief lived. The ordinary rooms are about six by eight feet, made of loose stones and daube-d inside with piaster, on which are still seen the finger marks of the ancient Inhabitants. The roof or ceiling is neatly formed of willow branches or wattles, and larger pieces of timber supjort various parts of th buildings. In one place are the n-mnins of & ruined rounc tower. In th center of th open semicircle is a hollow which was probably used as a res rve-ir for water in time of seige. It is estimated there were upwards of s) rooms in this castle. Embankments are thrown up on the outsida and there may have been a moat to detend it. A few yards off is another building made not of stone but of adob bricks, possibly a stable. In th1 setting sun these ruins of an ancient race- loomed up pic turesquely and were very sugK-stlve. nosTox ami Tin: thi:ati;h5. One of It Own Writer Criticise lho City. Harper's Weekly. Hostonians, as thy read thir morning papers recently, were Fornewhat startled by noting that their oldest and most securely dramatic critic had ben saying nrplfaysnt things to a body cf liberal Christians the night before, not only relative to th statj of the theater in the KnMsh-speaklng world, but to the local the:ter-g-jr.g public. "I'.oston." said Mr. Clapp. "has the joorest reputation for dramatic taste of any city in the Union. It will give steady patr"n-agf-to any kind of play. Hostor.lans are not epicures, but gluttons, and they are very provincial." It is nothing new to have Boston s.t dwn as provincial, albeit interestingly so. P.ut it is a shock to hr to be toid by one of thoe men lonfjet acquainted with her that slie h-s become hatiated, plethoric, unable to taste discriminatingly in short, a giutton. Now it Is not for a novice to rush in and cross lance with a veteran whose indictment cf his place of abod has provoked so little wrath that "n is teirmted to question whether the dictur is taken seriously by Hostor.ians. Hut iL Hoston, with Its long-established families of refinement, which have long looked upn the drama as a legitimate form of art and of civic education, cannot be paid to have k pt its ideals, where may we lock? To Nw York, rep'ies Mr. Clapp. "There a formidable first-nlcht audience hia been known to hiss a play from the boards. IJ.it In Boston a man grs to the t.Vatrr and lo-.ks at his neighbor, and thinks it's beautiful." Possibly the larger infusion of French and German blood in th tody ct New York may account for the higher dramatic ideals which Mr. Clarp detect ther but there will be sme Bostoni.ms who will continue to have faith in the discrimination of the descendants of the original Knglish stock, and the Irish and Italians who have tome later. The Janitor's Trouble. New York Times. State Su;erinter.der.t of Shoo!s Chirles, It. Skinner tells of the Jar.ltor of a city, school who threw up his Job one day. ar.l when aked by a friend what the trouble was, said: "Well, ifs this. I'm honest, and I wor.t stand b-ia' slurred. If I ever found t pncil or anything else in the school when 1 was tiweep'in' out I always gave it to the principal, but. Just the fame, the teachers, or some one that's too mean to face me gives m the slur.'' "In what wavT aked the friend, "Well. Ju?t this. A little while ago X t-w written on the board. Tin! the common multiple.' Well. I didn't say a word, but X arched from garret to cellar, and I couldn't find the darn thine. Well, again last night, in Mg,wnti.n on the sme boardit sid: 'Find the common divisor. Well 1 says to myseif, gays 1. 'both them darn thirds be loat now, and I'll get biased tax wiSia 'em. o I'll quit -