The Syracuse Journal, Volume 4, Number 16, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 17 August 1911 — Page 6

$ £— - By the Aid of the Mar ? Gilbert Incubator ■■■■■■ ■ Exra Towwnley was iorty years old ted a bachelor. Few men arrive at tbis state unless the door to their hearts has been closed by a woman’s hand, and Ezra was no exception to the rule. While still an awkward aohooiboy he had centered hi& affections on pretty Abbie Cummings, and the scorn in her eyes had never shaken his loyalty. She was still Miss Abbie, an alert, self-reliant little woman, serenely conscious of the fact that the village applauded her wisdom in refusing to mate with M so shiftless a man as Ezra. Perhaps there were moments when woMiaaliiiess conquered wisdom—when she yearned for the lonely man. 'But her dark eyes told no tales and fcara, naturally diffident, had never (fared come to the point of proposal. They had lived across the street train each other all, their lives„ but were still only good neighbors, with »o apparent prospect of changing their relationship. Ezra’s cottage stood in the center of an acre of ground, the greater part of which was devoted to his garden. There were hives of bees standing under the old apple trees, w'hile behind them was a small poultry yeard. Every spring Ezra laid plans for batching a large flock of chickens, but h® had never succeeded in raising mere than nine. His interest in poultry was unabated, and he availed himself of the first spring auction to become the possessor of an incubator. It was rather loose as to dcors and wobbly as to legs, and the heating apparatus was hardly in a state to court Investigation. But Ezra’s expectations i of success were as sure to bloom as were the hardy perennials in Miss Abbie’s garden. He in tjie much-the-worse-for-wear inchbator a sure road to the realization of his hojies. Having carefully read the tattered hook of directions, he set up the machine in his barn. Then taking a basket, he went down the street to the village store. When Miss Abbie entered the store a few moments later, she found every one laughing heartily. “There will be great doings in your neighborhood in about three weeks,” said the young clerk who had stepped up to wait upon her. T suppose you know that Ezra Townley has an incuiwffl IB Jill i F 7a F~ — Joke Not on Ezra. He is going to start the matonight, and has stocked up with cold storage eggs. I told him that we would all be up to see how the machine turned out. Maybe we won't have some fun with him then!” Miss Abbie wpnt homeward with her head in a whirl. Why should people pick on Ezra as the butt of such a Joke? What should she do about it? Tell Ezra of his mistake? No, he should never learn from her that he had been an object of ridicule. Suddenly her face lighted up with a smile, showing that the right idea had come. Never had she been more cheerful and serene than during the next three weeks. At times her eyes would twinkle as at some secret joke, and more than one village gossip wondered what good fortune had befallen Miss Abbie. Ezra was not an early riser, but on the day that the incubator hatch was due he awoke just before dawn. It seemed to him that heard the barn door creak. Dressing himself quickly, he went out to investigate. Everything was in perfect order, with no sign of any disturbance. But hark! What was that sound? a faint peep from one of the eggs in the incubator? Were they already oegianing to hatch? Never had he so many callers as walked up the path that day. One and ail they turned away, baffled, bewildered and sure of only one thing—that the joke was not on Ezra. "There were 28 chicks out the last time that I counted,” their host explained jubilantly, “and of course they just keep a-com!ng. I tell you it was a great streak of luck for me when 1 got that hatching machine!” When the hatch was over and the chickens consigned to the care of a home-made brooder, Ezra cleaned out the incubator and brushed up the broken egg shells. Among them he noticed a hit of gleaming black, and stopped to pick It up. ‘

It proved to be a tiny seal, tnai made his eyes open wide in astonish ment. Surely there couldWie no mistake. It was the setting to a ring that Miss Abbie had worn for many years* and would have been instantly recognized by any of her village friends. How came the seal out of the ring! Above all, how came it to be lyinfc’ there, among the egg shells in the incubator? Miss Abbie had not been among his visitors —of that he was very sure. Wondering would neither solve the mystery nor restore the ring to its owner, so a few moments later he was knocking at her door. Miss Abbie welcomed him cordially, and ushering him into her cozy sittingroom, made a cheery comment on th® weather. “It is a fine day,” Ezra admitted, “but that is not what brought me here. I have just found something that I mistrust belongs to you and no one else.” He extended the seal, and Miss Abbie took it at once, gazing at him with startled eyes. For perhaps the first time in all her life, she felt ill at ease in his presence. “Why, where did you find it, Ezra?” she gasped. “That is the queer thing about it, Abbie. It was in my incubator, and I should like to know how it managed to get there.” “I never wanted you to know anything about it,” she faltered. “About what?” “Why, the incubator. The boys knew that those store eggs wouldn’t hatch, and they were coming up to laugh at you.” “But they did hatch,” protested th® bewildered Ezra. “I have 45 chickens in my brooder this minute.” “You have the chickens,” Miss Abbie admitted. “But they didn’t ccm® from those eggs.” “Not from those eggs!” Ezra echoed blankly. “Then where on earth, did they come from?” Miss Abbie’s confusion was increasing every moment. It was decidedly becoming, brightening her dark eyes, and bringing an almost girlish flush' to her cheeks. “I set four of my hens the night that you set the incubator, and came over early in the morning and changed the eggs.” “What morning?” “Day before yesterday—when they were just ready to hatch.” “Whatever made you do it, Abbie?” Ezra’s tone was gentle as well as wondering. “I —I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” she faltered, “or have them all laughing at you.” There was silence for a moment, then Ezra spoke again. “I didn’t suppose you’d care, Abbie. If I had ever dared to think so—” For once in her life Miss Abbie was speechless. ihft any one seeing her face at that moment would have known that her days of wisdom w®re at an end. GOOD CIGAR WAS WASTED Man Was Sure He Would Have a Berth Until Told the Train Was a Freight. “Do you know what time the next train will pass through here going north?” asked a man who had been compelled to stay over night in a small town in Arkansas. j “There will be one in about twenty' minutes,” replied the ticket agent. / ""Bully! Do you ever smoke?” , “Yes, sometimes.” “Here’s a cigar that I bought in Dallas. You can’t get anything like, it in this town. I think you’ll enjoy i it. They charge 17 cents apiece by< the thousand for that brand.” “Thanks. I’m afraid it may spoil my taste, but I’ll take a chance on it, « just the same.” “Say, can you fix me out with a 1 lower berth for St. Louis?” “I can telegraph to have one reserved for you on the train that passes through here at 5:30 tomorrow morning.” “No, no; I want to go on the train that’s coming now. Can’t you fix me out on that one?” “Nope. I’m very sorry I can’t do it.” “O, come on! you can arrange it some way.” “No, it’s impossible. “Well, I’ll have to fix It with the conductor, then, I suppose.” “You won’t be able to get a berth from him.” “I won’t eh! You watch me. There’s d, sleeper on the train, isn’t there?” “No.” “What! No sleeper? What kind of trains do you run on this line, anyhow ?” “Well, this one that’s coming Is a freight train.” “Uncle Tom” in England. I see it stated that “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was “a wild success from the moment of its first issue in England.” This is altogether inaccurate. “Uncle Tom” was declined by a well known London publisher, but another firm brought out an edition of 2,500 copies at half a crown. This proved a failure, so the price was reduced to one shilling and then the book sold rapidly. In a few weeks every one was reading it. The firm which had made a good thing out of this speculation were anxious; to secure Mrs. Stowe’s next work, so they gave her £SOO for the early sheets of the key to “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” of which an edition of 50,000 copies was printed, but the book proved a disastrous failure. Mrs. Stowe’s second title was “Life Among the Lowly,” but this*was changed in England to “Negro Life In the Slave States of America.”—London Truth.

Uncle Sam to Record :: \ latd i anMusic

I SHE United States government has recently undertaken to do something that a great many people have been declaring for years past ought to be done. This is to record and perpetuate the tribal music of the American Indians. All over the world people of every nationality have of late years been striving to perpetuate the folk songs of the different races that inhabit the globe, because it has come to be recognized that these primitive songs which have seldom been written simply been handed down from one generation to another constitute an invaluable link with the past. In the case of our Indians, however, in greater degree perhaps than with any other primitive people, is there need for quick work if the old songs and ancient music is to be chronicled for the benefit of future generations who' will know the Indian only from books and pictures. The Indian music alike to the folk songs of European nations, which have been brought to the fore in recent years, affords most interesting sidelights bn the peoples in whose lives it has so long played a part and what is yet more important many of the old Indian songs have a historical significance or at least expression to traditions so interesting and poetic and beautiful that it would be nothing short of a calamity wete they to be lost. Aside, however, from the fact that the Indians of North America is a vanishing race and that their music is passing with them there is yet another, incentive to urge energetic work now that this musical research has been undertaken in earnest. This extra spur lies in the fact that

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A rYPJCAL JAWA/y WZAGf there is a tremendous wealth Qf Indian music to be studied and chronicled in permanent form, — each individual tribe having had from time immemorial its distinctive songs and chants. A man who is attempting to compile a complete pictorial record of the Indians has already spent twenty years in the work and it is likely that as much time will be required if there is to be mirrored for the benefit of future generations the distinctive music of all the various tribes. Private individuals, musicians or scientists, have from time to time in the past made effort in a small way to perpetuate American Indian music and while they deserve credit for what they have accomplished it is an undertaking which through its sheer magnitude, if for no other rteason, needs the resources of the national government. That it is pre-eminently a government function is likewise attested by the fact that it has promise of success only when prosecuted through the organized channels of intercourse with the Indians, —channels which enable federal officials to get into the confidence of the more intellectual men of all the various tribes in a degree that would scarcely be possible except in the case of an individual who lived for many years among the Indians whose secrets he sought. The governmental study and perpetuation of Indian music is being conducted under the auspices of the Smithsonian Institution and National Museum at Washington. The bureau of Ethnology is the particular branch of this great seat of research which has the Indian music investigation in charge. Probably the most interesting phase of the whole undertaking is that which has to do with the activities of Miss Frances Densmore. Miss Densmore, who is an accomplished student of music, has spent much time among the Chippewas and other tribes whose music is at once notable and representative and has recorded as many as two hundred songs belonging to a single tribe. Oddly enough the phonograph has been the chief means of capturing the songs of the forest There is no system of written music among most of the tribes and the phonograph was hit upon as the only possible means of providing the means of studying the music carefully and leisurely.. As may be surmised it was anything but an easy task to induce some of the more superstitious of the red men to sing into the strange machine or to induce them to even permit the recording apparatus to be set up within earshot of their camp fires when there was in progress those ceremonial rites and dances which call up the musical lore of the savages. Finally, after much perseverance, however, at Indian agencies and elsewhere, the music hunters have succeeded in making a creditable beginning in securing th® priceless phonograph records of Indian music. In the case of one or two tribes the song collection of “canned music" is practically complete. After records of Indian songs or music ar® secured they are transcribed in piano score and studied scientifically. Meanwhile the collection of records will be kept on file for the benefit of the musical students of future generations who will find it a priceless boon to hear the Indian music as originally rendered. The researches which have been made show that Indian music is as complex as is the fribal life of the original Americans. An accompaniment of song is provided for every public ceremony as well as for every Important act in the career of an individual. The music of eaoh ceremony has its peculiar rhythm, as have also the classes of songs which pertain to individual acts such as fasting and prayer, hunting, Courtship, the playing of games and the facing or defying of death. An Indian or a person thoroughly versed in Indian

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musical lore can determine the class of a song by means of the rhythm of the music. From a technical musical standpoint, the Indian music is very similar to the form of our own music. The compass of the songs varies from one to three octaves and some of the songs have no words, although this does not seem to im-

pair their definite meaning. There is much chorus sihging among the Indians and in some tribes there are choirs of picked singers who are paid for their services when they appear at any formal ceremonies. It may surprise many readers to learn that some of the Indian communities are so keen for music that they even hold musical contests. A favorite form of competition seeks to determine which singer or group of singers can make the best showing in reproducing a song with accuracy after having heard it but once. The Indian songs are the property of clans, societies and 'ndividuals and the rights of ownership are rigidly enforced. In many instances the privilege of singing any individually-owned song must be purchased from the composer and in the case of the songs of clans not only is the right to sing the ’melodies restricted to members of the clan but each clan has special officers to insure the exact transmission and rendition of their a fine being imposed upon any member who makes a mistake in singing. Indian women have composed many of the best of the Indian songs, including lullabies, spinning and

Scales That Would Weigh a Thought

Sir William Ramsay, the distinguished English scientist, has Invented a pair of scales delicate enough, literally, to weigh a thought. Their record so far is one seven-millionth of an ounce, which is considerably lighter than most thoughts usually are. The scales are kept under Sir William’s own laboratory in a small subterranean chamber. The room is kept in semi-darkness. So delicate are these wonderful scales that their balance is disturbed by the alteration of temperature caused by the turning on of an electric light at the other end of.the room. The operator has to leave them for an hour in darkness —after he has tiptoed from the roof, so that his footfall should not Set up any vibration —and then read them swiftly, before any change in the temperature has had time to affect them. Hanging by one end of the beam of ; the scales by a strand of silica fibre so slender that it is scarcely possible to see it is a tray. Upon this is placed a minute glass tube. Imprisoned in the tube is a whiff of xenon, a gas discovered by Sir William Ramsay. The movement of the, scales when the tube is dropped upon them is so slight that it cannot be detected at all by the eye. But the movement is made to swing from side to side

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grinding sofigs and the songs of inspiration and encouragement intended to be sung to the warriors setting out for battle. It is usually difficult for a listener of another race to catch an Indian song owing to the conflicting noise due, in a great part, to the beating of the drums. There is usually a difference in time, the drum beats being designed to govern bodily movements and mark the steps of the ceremonial dancers, whereas the song voices the emotion of the appeal. The drums may be beaten in 2-4 time and the song be in 3-4 time or the beat be in 5-8 time against a melody in 3-4 time, or the entire song may be sung to a rapid tremolo beating of the drum. The officials who have been making a study of Indian music are enthusiastic over its possibilities. They declare that not only does the field affftrd rich opportunities for the study of the growth of musical form, but the Indian songs themselves offer to the present-day composer a wealth of melodic and rhythmic movements constituting a source of inspiration equal to that which has been supplied by the folk songs of Europe and vastly more serviceable in the development of a distinctive American “school” of music.

a tiny mJsror, upon which a beam of light is focussed. The result is that a shifting point of light is thaewn upon a graduated black scale six feet away. The weight of the tube, with the gas in IL is ti»n recorded by the movement . this pin-point of light on the scale. Then comits the interesting test. The gas is released from the tube, which is weighed again. It is now found to weigh a two hundred and fiftythousandth a milligramme, or a seven thousand millionth of an ounce, less than it did when the gas was in it. Therefore, the weight of this whiff of gas was a seven thousand millionth of an ounce. The smallest object that can be picked up with the most delicate forceps is a piece of aluminum wire far thinner than a human hair, a twentyfifth oC an inch Im length, which weighs a fourteen hundred thousandth of an ounce. It can scarcely be seeri, and it is difficult to detect whether it is resting on the scales or not A section of aluminum wire weighing an eighty-four hundred thousandth of an ounce can be prepared. But it is only visible in a microscope. For this reason weights of less than a fourteen hundred thousandth of an ounce have to be registered in gases.

IN THE COURTROOM. A ■ Io She —Who are those young men With books under their arms? He—Students. They are taking up the law. She—What’s that old mar. in th® big chair back of the desk doing? He—He’s laying it down. To Laugh at Tuberculosis. Much ignorance prevails among the unfortunate victims of tuberculosis and families of these unfortunates, according to the Los Angeles Herald, For such as these the words spoken by Adolphus Knopf shoukLbe chiseled in imperishable granite. Or, better still, they should be published in every public print, viz? “There Is no such thing as hereditary tuberculosis. The remedy is simple and all should know it. It is one of the most feasily curable of all the chronic infectious diseases. You can cure consumption by the unstinted use of God’s good fresh air, twenty-four hours in twentyfour, plenty of good food and plenty of good water, inside and out. You all know that cleanliness is next to godliness. Children should get all the f,resh air possible. They should sleep and play in the open air. They should attend o'peh-air schools.” Dying by Organs. It has been discovered that if a human being dies after an ordinary illness and not a violent death he does not die all over and all at once. He may have a diseased liver, heart or lung, and this may be the cause if his death; but it has been found that if the diseased organ could have been replaced by a healthy one life might have been maintained indefinitely. This is no imagination or speculation. It has been confirmed by the most careful experiments by the ablest medical scientists in the country,—Leslie’s Weekly. Leaving Him at Sea. “Could you do something for a poor old sailor?” asked the seedy-looking wanderer at the gate. “Poor old sailor,” echoed the lady at work at the tub. “Yes’m, I follered the wotter for 16 years.” “Well,” said the woman, after a critical look, “you certainly don't look as if you ever caught up with it.” Then she resumed her labors. Unexpected. Suddenly the umpire called time. “Aw, what’s the matter!” demanded the catcher. “Somebody in the grand stand applauded me,” he said, wiping the blinding tears from his eyes, “and I wasn’t prepared for that . . Play ball!” Time to Reorganize. "I asked her to marry, me,, and she gave me a supreme court answer.”' “What kind of an answer is that?” “Said she would give me six months to readjust myself so as to be acceptable.”—Puck. Immortality. “Speaking of immortality, what’s the matter with the hen?” “Go on.” “Her son never sets.” The art is to bring the state of mind bred of large thinking into the routine of life.— tN. S. Shaler. Everybody knows that other people make mistakes. “That’s Good” Is often said of Post Toasties when eaten with cream or rich milk and a sprinkle of sugar if desired. That’s the cue for housekeepers who want to please the whole family. Post Toasties are ready to serve direct from the package— Convenient Economical Delicious “The Memory Lingers” Sold by Grocers POSTUM CEREAL CO.. LtdBattle Creek. Mich.