Evening Star Newspaper, September 10, 1892, Page 9

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C. SATURDAY. SEPTEMBER NEWS OF THE DAIRY Bacteria to Be Employed in the Making of Butter and Cheese, OFFICIAL EXPERIMENTS. Discovery of the Bacillus Which Makes the Best Butter—Artificial Ferments for Use by Dairymen—The Butter and Cheeses of the Future Will Always Be First-Eate. NCLE JERRY RUSK has gots new idea for J the farmers. If they will follow his advice there will be no such thing as poor butter in the future, and all of the fancy kinds of cheeses now imported from foreign countries will be made in the United States. In order that these results shall be accompliehed it is merely necessary to call in the aid of bacteria, | most of which are powerful friends of man- Kind, notwithstanding the fact that a few de- Generate species like the cholera germ are mor- tal foes to the human race. Good butter is distinguished from poor but- ter by a delicious fragrance and by a peculiar flavor familiar to the educated palate. Wha -Produces these qualities? Clover. nor yet pure breeding in cows, but sim- ly microscopic vegetable organisms called Toectin. They ford upon the cream and make a ferment which gives to first-rate butter ite distinctive taste and smell. What these little workers lack in size they make up in num- bers, for it is reckoned that a quart of milk will sometimes contain as many as a thousand mil- lions of them. RIPENING THE CREAM. Butter makers are accustomed to let their eream stand in a warm place for from twelve to four hours before churning it. This they call “ripening.” They do it because they have discovered that cream thus treated will ehnrn more easily than when it is fresh: also thut a greater quantity of batter can be got from it in this way, and tha: the product has a much better flav Scientific investigation has proved that all this is due to bacteria, which under such conditions multiply with enormous rapidity and produce various forms of fermentation. Bacteria, however, are of innumerable va- Tieues. There may be hundreds of different species in a quart of cream, which is an admir- able “culture medium” for such organisms But there is probably only one kind that the peculiar ferment destred, by which the taste and aroma of “best butter” are produced. Itisa matter of common olservaticn that ordinary butter is not particularly agreeable to the palate or to the sense of smeil. It is simply not bad. One «prends as little of it on ones brend axis needed to make the la edible. What does this signify? Merely the right sort of bacteria did not take p the manufacture of such butter for the m: Now, it abvionsly follows that if butter makers could always introduce this desirat species of bacterium into their cream thi would make sure of obtaining the proper sm and taste for their product. Luckily the micro Organism in question has already been identi- fied. It isa bacillus, which term is like plied to the cholera germ. because both shaped like little rods. distinct forms, according to roughly designated as “bacilli,” “micrococci,” or little balls, and ~“spirilla,” or corkserews. Storch. a Swedish investigator, first succeeded 4) are hich they a in wolating this interesting bacterium. He ob- | it from ripening cream and propagated | tai the sPecies on gelatine. By introducing it into fresh cream he found that he was able to get butter with the desired flavor. THE RIGHT KIND OF BACTERIA. In the ordinary methods of butter making | the results are left largely to accident. If the right sort of bacteria get into the cream it is found that they will increase and multiply at | the expense of the other species which may be | But nothing is the Present, crowding *hem out. done to control the matter or to regul: assortment of micro organisms. During Fipening process there ensues a conflict of the different organisms with erch other and the consequences Mav depend upon a variety of | circumstances. They will be influenced by temperature, quality of the cream and partica- larly by the species of bacteria represented. In each a eragele for existence it is mere chance whether or not the desirable variety succeeds in multiplying rapidiy enough to produce its own effect on the cream unhindered by the others. Storch found that cream ripened with improper species of bacteria produced very poor butter. Inother words, the butter maker today can never be certain that any particular batch of cream is supplied with the proper species of bacteria to produce the desired taste and smell in the product. But, if he could be furnish-d with ferment for the purpose--i.e.,a pure culture of the right kind of micro organisms— as the brewer is furnished with yeast, he would always be able to be sure of his result. Such a ferment is already being manufactured in Ger- many, where it is used in many creameries. Presumably before long it will be employed in this country. It will doubtless introduce im- provements into the creameries similar to those which have been effected in breweries by the study of yeasta. This discovery, however. is at present only in its infancy. There may be more than one species of bacteria which will produce good re- sults in the ripening of cream for butter. It is not even known as yet whether the variety Utilized in Europe is the eame as that found railable for the purpose by our own Depart- ment of Agriculture, which is about to publish the results of its own experiments in this direc tion. The investigations which have brov these facts to light have incidentally disposed of the theory hitherto held that the flavor of butter was due to the formation of voiatile acids in the cream. Both taste aud smell come from a sort of decomposition that is caused by the bacteria. The decomposi allowed to proceed too far, maker knows, too long a ripening produces strong and disagreeable flavors, iE MILEMAN AND BUTTER MAKER DIFFER. ‘Thus it apvears that whereas the milkman desires his milk to be as free from micro organ- {sms as possible, the butter maker finds them most useful and takes pains to cul but he wants the proper species if the bacteri- clogist can farnich them. Its not to be es: Forted that the butter maker of the future will able to make better butter than the bext that 4s made today, but he will be able to obtain the Dest product with unifor and the creameries which at present maise inferior qualities of but- ter will be able to improve them go as to com. pete with the best. If bacteria are usefalto the butter meker they are absolute necessities to the manutac- turer of cheese. Without their agency in rit ing cream the butter can be used, thor; taste flat; but cheese is worthless New cheese is not palatable. rate them It t tes like fresh milk curd and is not at all pleasant. The r flavor of cheese is the result of a ripe: | sean which is allowed to continue for several weeks or months, the taste and aroma slowly gtowing stronger all tho while. This ripening is produced by bacteria which feed on the substance of the cheese and multiply in it, thus making various ferments that are similar, curiounly enough, to the ferments caused by the action of :he digestive fluids of the stomach. When fresh cheese is treated with a disiniect- ing agent, which prevents the development of bacteria, it will not ripen. It is entimated that the number of bacteria "nt in an ounce of ripening cheese is from .009.000 to 165,000,009, the micro organisms growing gradually more numerots during the Under conditions one species at the ex; of the others, which are to a great extent crowded out, just as is the case with cream that is ing butter. It has been ascertained bevond question that this variety produces the de vred taste and smell. However, it is to be presumed jurpose varies with different sorts of cheeses. Fie tam juefort cheese is ripened in cer- in Pra presn: are such as’ ‘o favor the growth of species which makes the ferment THE CHEEAEMAKER'S DirFicULTiEs. Up to the present time the cheesemaker has that the kind of bacterium requisite for the nee, where madly th renders this delicacy prized by epicures. shared the difficulty of the Lutter maker. Not sweet grass and | Bacteria have three | cht | ting ready for mnk- | due to the action of objectionable varieties of micro organisms which get into the milk. They are responsible for black cheese, bitter cheese, cheese flecked with red spots and other such disagreeablenexses, | The presence of bacteria in cheese could not be avoided if it were desired. Milk from which it is made always contains them, and some of | them are certain to be inclosed in the cheore on manufacture. Thus shut in they find proper conditio growth. The conditions are not Yery favorable, it is true, for the density of the cheese prevents ready accoss of air, which is meceseary to the organisms, and the lack of moisture is a disadvantage. Nevertheless they multiply slowly and soon produce profound | chemical changes. Ther givo rise to ferments | and produce other effects of the nature of com- | Rencing decomposition, the total result of which is the delicately flavored cheese that brings such a high price in the market. The species of bacteria which induce the | as mpening of cheeses are as yet unidenti- Noue of them baveup to the present time | been isolated. But when this has been accom- plished the making of cheese will have been Feduced to an exact sclence, and it may be pos- sible for the American farmer to successfully | Teproduce the highty valued cheeses of Enrope, so that the latter will no longer need to be im- | ported from abroad. Once let the requisite ferments be obtained, which ean readily be | manufactured in any quantities demanded, and | there should be no further difticulty. Incident- | ally, it will no longer be possible for cases to | cceur of polsoning by cheeses which have ac- | quired their dangerous properties from the | action of harmful microbes. FRESH MILK MAY BE USED. Thus may be predicted a time in the not distant future when both the butter maker and tho cheesemaker will uso fresh milk. The butter maker will add to his cream an artificial ferment consisting of a pure culture of the proper bacteria, thereupon permitting it to ripen with the certainty of a satisfactory and unifotm result. In like manner the chcese- maker will inoculate his fresh milk with a simi- quality of bis products. Perhaps he will have a large variety of such ferments, each of which will produce for him a definite kind of cheese. The day will yet come when the butter maker will always make good butter and éhe checse- maker will turn out invariable cheeses. | Among the annoyances which alltict the dairy- men one of tho most serious is “blue milk.” It caused by a species of bacterinm called the ‘bacillus cyanogenus.” Its development pro- | duces patches on the of an intense blue | color, which make their appearancea few hours | after it isdrawn from the cow. reems to be harmless, but it is apt to produce an unfavorable impression on the minds of cus- tomers. Blue cheese, an occasional phenorne- ved to be due to the action of the ‘There aro other kinds of by their growth in milk occa— ts in the production of pig: ments, causing the milk to turn violet, 3 | green or red. An unfortunate prejudice exists | in the po J against these rainbow hues in the generous fluid supplied by the cow. WHAT MAKES SLIMY MILK. Another kind of botheration for which cer- sof bacteria are responsible is slimy Sometimes the sliminess reaches a point f, it being poesible to draw k so aifected into threads ten feet long snd so small as to be hardly visible. The common sonring of milk is induced by a kind of bacterium which in feeding makes lactic acid. ‘This variety, strange to say, thongh ex- tremely common around dairies, seems to be found mowhere el-e in rature, not even in the bara. It is worth me: cioning here that there is no basis in fact for ue popular f that thunder storms ca milk tovour. It is true that milk dees commonly turn sour daring thunder storms, but that is because the sort of bacteria that produce lactic acid multiply most ly in the warm, sultry conditions which usually precede a thunder’ storm. | tricity has nothing to do with it. _Dairymen find that during “dog day” weathe there is no thander, it is just as dificult to keep milk as it is during thander storms, Milk in the cow's udder contains no bacteria. They all get into it after it has been drawn from the animal, some from the hands of the person who does the milking, others from the air, others yet from the mili Having once got a start individuals quickly multiply én a “culture medium” into myriads on myriads, In order tp avoid such troubles as hare been mentioned | the milkmen need only practice the utmost clean It has been that one should make as careful a toilet for milking a cow as | for the supper table. Koumy=s, a beverage prepared from mares’ milk from’ time immemorial by the nomadic tribes of Tartary. contains alcohol produced by alcoholic fermentation of the milk. Within the last few years this drink has become com- as a beverage for invalids, being prepared non, is bel for that purpose from cows’ milk by adding « | little sugar to induce alecholic fer Within recent years it has been discovered t almost any will" p bol from milk i s be first started by adding to the milk a it has re been sug- the use of whey in the manufacture ppened in His State. Trom the New York Heraid. It was one of those cold, rainy summer nights that are not unfrequent in the mountains, and @ group of men had drawn up their chairs be- fore the open fire. The finmes, dancing glee- fully, cast extravagant shadows against the wall und the ecrackli with g of the log. fire alternated ¢ sound of the rising wind. fhis reminds me of a tough night I once ” said one of the party, and he kuocked the | ashes from his pipe ashe spoke. “That was the ‘last night I ran. I giv’ up engincerin’ after that. Somehow I couldn't stand iz no longer. My narves got the best of ime.” He leaned forward. gazing into the fire. “It was nine Years ago thi« very month, continued, “and romehow this rain and the wind a-sereechin’ reminds of it all. Lord! how it did thunder and ‘ighten th: Twas then runnin’ on one of the ro: Yorkshire, an’ I didn't have no roo ‘on the eub, but only ser Idon't know wh; don't give us all- cabs in eld count y calculate that we end to business better when we're oncom forta. Well, as I started to say, on this pertik lar night, the fireman was took with one o° his He got so he had ‘em often, sorter We was going purty t, for it was down g: nd we was twenty behind. too. "In one of haix convulsions he jest went right out of that cab like a streak. Tfelta jar. There was a tlash of lightnen that | made everything clear as day, and I saw on the r stack as; lain as I see any of teeth grinvin’ and Then all was black agai ‘The epeaker gazed for a minute or two, then looked up vacantly at his companions, yell, as Laaid, I never went onto the road again. ‘That's the reason I came to Ameriky and took up minin’. It ain't so hard on a fel- ler's narves.” t what did you do when you caw that head?” asked somebody who wanted to hear the whole story. . “J never knew what happened at the time ex- cept that the fireman fell off and we rode over somethin’, and the next minute there was a head on the boiler. They afterward told me that the train came to a standstill purty soon, and some- body came and poured water over m: seein’ as how [had fainted. I'll never forget that night not if I live a hundred years,” he added, soberly. “Was that really the fireman's head that vou saw or simply a hallucination?” asked an Ohio man who had been listening with considerable interest. “'Twasn’t no hallucination nor imagination nor nothin’ but a head, but it wasn’t the fire- man's. He was picked ‘up afterward, not ver} much hurt, either. It seems we bya cattle guard, end some lumytik put his bead through—thar wasan asylum near—and when it was cut off it flew upand the blood made it stick to the hot boiler. A silence followed the speaker's exclamation— that is, a silence within--and each seemed to be recounting the horribie experience. Outside the wind shrieked louder and more demoniac- ally than ever. | Some oan ane we ahd puta fresh log on the lazy fire. ‘The first to break the silence was the Ohio man. | “Waal,” he remarked slowly, with an air of seriousness Iy in constrast to his words, “that thing never could hev bay in my on the Obio lar ferment and thas be enabled to control the | Blue milk | The eiec- | ci when | and 40 forth. | cale yould be a profitable | eds down in , ¥ face, | 10, 1892-SIXTEEN PAGES. BOWERY PICTURES. Sketches of Life on a Very Remark- able Street. BROADWAY OF THE SLUMS. Curtosities of s Famous Thoroughfare— Cheap Drinks and Cheap Living—Dime Museums, Dives and Concert Saloons— Theaters Patronized by Gamins—Mott Street and Its Mixed Population. Special Correspondence of The Evenin: a New Yonk, Sept. 9, 1892. ROM AMONG THE romarkeble streets of the world the Bowery should not be omitted. It is at once the Broad- way and the 5th avenue of the East Side of New York, combining, aa it does, all the attractions of popular prom- enade with those of a business thoroughfare. During the day it isa busy mart of trade, | where everything imaginable is bought and |sold. There are three gin mills on pretty nearly every corner in this quarter of the | town, an@there would be four, only that the | law makes three the limit, Five cents is the usual price for a drink on the | Bowery, whether it be a stovepipe of beer, amilk punch, a cocktail or what not. Acommon sign is | “We give the largest sehconer of beer and the | | biggest glass of whisky for 5 cents in the cil | If drinkables are cheap, comestibles are equally |so. Here isacopy ofa sign in front of an eating house near Chatham square: Pigs’ tails and cabbage Beefsteak pie... . Two fried or boiled eggs. -5 cents -5 cents -5 cents Spare rib and cabbage. “5 cents All roast meats....2. 1128 cents A hearty meal, too, is furnished with each of j ty | these orders. Butit is at night that the Bow- ery is in its glory. Then its sidewalks are thronged with ‘people who, seeking recreation after the day's toil, pour ont from the tenemeut | honses and equalid back stree are open, the pawn shops exhibiti displays of unclaimed and tawd salesmen of the cheap clothing stor: custom from the pavement and st crying their wares, Now and then froin open doors of concert halls come sounds of music, | the passer by bei | announcing that the entertainmen all, Ears of hot corn and raw « All the hops hawkers at accent apiece on the corners beneath # | ke lights. | Every two or three blocks there is a dine | museum, in front of which are dixplayed hu: | colored pictures, representing all so1 | tonishing human other cur | the eutrance of cach one of these voted to science surprising lan; [livers a hi hinents nnwary | stage’ perforr [for wonders ng f skeleton gentlerian aad all the other o! of bigotry and virtue, is taken aride by fable perton, who asks him to from « box. iopes and the exper: hettin draw } Then another courte make a phrenologic which he of 2 of his hea Vsuppores to be inciuded nission, and he is chiar If he re: [are ured, bat he is for gets other tongh element, the yen class whose e ground ¢! ke ietim to the dis now i astitution for th of penitence i of the ti om his districs ito of hercie m da runaway hos | He owned sev customed to dr: | while he was hind one of bi h | took the run at A, feart, wh | The ¢ amusements. and they are h his an instinn lishment is th | very adm compose | the very thould take Band. for mo © Cle 1g } female musical organization to f House ent ments. Nothing | leas prete thon this jof the Bow: sinoke and dr | the tloor, while ommodation in a g¢ for admissio: for a glass of bee | time a very considerable | for an¥ one who knows ho: | music. ho serve | pretzels are son | Put black your eye pattern | membered that they have m. | tomers to nar: otwithsta, | the resort is of a very repu: character, SORE GOCD ACTING soMETINES, Seme admirable acting ts sometimes to be feen in Bowery theaters, to which talented member@of the profession with an appetite for drink are apt to gravitate. ‘ihere their nployment after they have been of the higher ranks, and thus it happens one sometimes sees an excellent comedian There Scents whic ares ai the nt of ple | humbler temples of Thespis. ‘The p: sented here, of course, are always of and-thunder order. ‘To satisfy the gods of the gailery there must be plenty of firing of pis- tols and the villainy must invariably be of the | deepest possible “dye. Nevertheless virine never failed to come out ahead and nobie d_heroie sentiments expromed on tht ge arouse no such enthusiastic ap- piatse, auywhere ax they do when uttered It is particularly noticeable that the audiences always applaud we. They do it to hide their emotion rom ths point of view of the gamins.of gutter the theater at which they may purchase an evening's entertainment for 15 centa repre- sents the utmost attainable joy, and they are not bud critics of the quality of the acting. Your correspondent witnesred a pathetic scene on the Bowery last evening. An elderly man, small of stature and evidentiy befuddied with drink, who “might have been a Russian,” like Raiph Rackstraw in “Pinafore,” was trying to make his way up the steps of « safoon. He was it in vats owever, By boy who hung desperately to his coat-tails anc pulled him wery time he advanced Pace. Evidently, thought the observer, this was his son, who was altempting to persuade ‘ahh gutiionnas | nage Gian tiny. sales tome’ to appreciate good | ind the footlights of the Bowery plavhouse. | wiidly when there isa patuetic | tocomein. He's boon bounced out six times today already.” ‘THE CHINESE QUARTER. Mott street is an offshoot of the Bowery at Chatham square. There the Chinese bave made their quarter, though the poverty and disreputablenoss of the neighborhood. is illas- trated by the fact that many Irish and — from other countries foreign born are crow: into the tenements together with the pig-tailed orientals, Here all is squalor and filth. and the dirty children paddie in the mud puddies, while biear-eved old women whom alcohol should have destroyed long ago, croon and talk to themselves on the front steps of the This section is one of the worst in the ci! it would be au excellent thing if it could be shifted bodily over to the flowery kingdom. It is surprising how many of the China- men have white wives, most of them Irish women, who usuaily declare when questioned on ,the subject that a slant-eyed heathen makes sn exceptionally good husband, neither obliging his spouse to support him while he spends the money in drink nor beat- ing her aaa comes home in liquor. Babies and young children of half white and half Chi- nese parentage are becoming plentiful in the slums of the metropolis, It is exceeding pleas- ant to learn that the imported Mongol possesses domestic virtues, inasmuch as he seems to be so entirely lacking in any others. Should ebol- era strike New York thi: one of the qiarters Where it may be expected to break out first. There are plenty of plague spots in the vicinity of the Bowery for disease of any kind to breed in. and ————_-+ e+ ____ LEE AT WEST @POInT. His Toast to the Union—Gen. Scott's Opin- fon of Lee as a Soldier. The following reminiscence was written for Tar Evenrxo Stan by Mr. E. H. Andrews, who was a member of the board of visitors to West Point before the war, when Col. Robert E. Lee was superintendent of the academy: Toward the close of the labors of ourbuard at West Point we invited Gen. Scott and his staff, whose headquarters were then at the of New York, also Col. Lee and the other members of the faculty at the “Point,” with a fow others, to dino with us at “The West Point Hotel,” then kept by that splendid.purveyor and genial boniface, Capt. Roe. The dinner was all that could be desired and the occasion one of great social enjoyment and of much in- tellectual interest. Mr. Henry E. Davies of New York, the president of our board, presided | at the dinner with an ease and grace and flow of rther losse@throug o.ucr forms of | ‘ing gentleman on the boards of these | genial wit which greatly contributed to the ure of the party In the course! of the entertainment the health of Col. Lee was ged, to which the colon 2 of his response he re- which he presided as one , having in its membership representatives ch of the states, and “thereby binding # closely together in that union from them all x which he declared to be the views in perfect harmony ngton, with whose famil; riage and whom he s his prototrpe. He concluded offering the f g sentiment ny batever sacred to th th in territory aps ir r by a corre- affections of the whole 1 given utterance to rentiments should within ten years from * time be found at the head of armies orgun- American xpressed his te of the vilue and importance of the His history and his he faintest saspicion of ion in his noble utter. “Union” aul ite beausital r which he had fought His whole carcer, his rental strugeles before bh ine the position of anthorit deplien svmbol, th: aud imp near the opi il war, showed the a nttach: Washi of 4h preje an owne:- lg just and ion. But, ike e state which ha sonship, and racking 2 , Virginia spoke and ha hat voice of nich to him “nion is which that dec GEN. SCOTT IN HIS P When Col. Lee had y from the + Gen, Scott words of the Some of my Seott, When be wa able in b had just w obabl.y nev ne of thera, ifma proper hou. Ai this had grown : Tost some- ng of that © nd grace of shed him. years ago. He 1 saw him od on the hi grace!u ti ths by the ‘an- looking on that great , power, honor. grandeur, were swept throngh my young F gazed on the magnificent figure, don my boyish ined with wonderful distinet- OF LEE AS A SOLDIER. 1 his remarks by saying: unwilling to let this occasion pass with- out expressing tay opinion of the military char- . Lee and acknowledging the great of the army and country to his blo vervices in the iate war with Mexico. n, from the taking of Vera Cruz to Mexico, stake not, regarded by military tnen Yo Col. Robert E. Lee : d for that success than to any other man. ‘The entire engineering of that campaign was under his direction and control, and upon the seience and skill and sound mili- udgment employed in that department nded the results of our most important ents and the issue of the eampaign. The scientitic knowledge, the keen military foresight and practical wisdom and skill displayed in | in- | his plans when submitted to my spection inspired me not only with un- |Rmited confidence in him as a military engineer, but with an admiration for his military ‘genius which if I wero fully to ex- press wonld perhapa subject me to the charge of extravagance. ‘This, however, I will say, thyt I regu living of his age in the highest qualities of the trne soltier, and I am glad to have this oppor- tunity, in the presence of these distinguished Topresentatives of the government from eo many different states of the Union, to offer this slight tribute to his services and character. No worthier oicer could be placed at the head of this military school, and if the young men who are now in couree of training under bis super- intendence ebail cultivate his spirit and qual- ities asa man and emulate his example as a foliier their future of usefainess to the ic and of honor to themselves may with be predicted.” y ion. Scott added at some his views of the importance of the West Point school to our army and government and the duty of ernment Uberally to. gustaia it population, | histoty to% urd that officer as second to no man | IN THE COUNTRY. Disadvantages That = City Man Labors Un- der With the Countryman, ‘BE TRIES TO MAKE THE FARMER THINK HE EXOWS SOMETHING ABOUT RURAL MATTERS, BUT HE DON'T DECEIVE HIM—TROUBLE BE HAS WITH DOGS AND OTHER ANIMALS. A “NRITER FOR THE STAR HAS MADE AN investigation, and it seems to be the uni- ‘versal impression that the seasonis fast approach- ing when the weary city man will be glad be isn’t in the country and will not sigh when Sun- day comes around for the deep cool shade and fragrant zephyrs which are said by poets to be the universal accompaniments of a rural life. All the week when he is busy at his desk or counter the toiler is not troubled by the vis- fou of this rustic Arcadia, but when Sunday brings with it ite customary leisure he craves loafing in the country. And so he often throws few necessaries intoa grip sack and buyes “round-trip” ticket and goes away on Saturday evening to return on Monday morning. What is his condition when he goes away? He is truly tired out and needa a rest, but he is, not half so tired as he thinks be is. Just show him a piece of work by which he might make a left in him. He will. apparently, beas fresh as daisy. But he imagines himself played out, and s0, in order to be us fresh asa daisy the next week, he goes into the fields to gather the daisies themselves. Perhaps, if he is very much of acity man, in conversation with his farmer friend ‘he will admire especially those fields where the daisies grow thickest, being all un- conscious that countrymen hate daisies and are ashamed of those fields in which they grow. EACH TO HIS OWN SPHERE. Of course, such is the weakness of mankind, the city man is no sooner loose in the country than he pretends he has lived there all his life He is proud of this knowledge and he walks into his host's potato patch and congratulates him upon the appearance of his tomatoes. “And what a fine crop of tobacco you have,” he says, pointing to something green with leaves and stalks; “is it for pipes or cigare?” “That's corn,” says his host. “Ah!” says the guest, “how much it resem- bles tobacco.”” There is no limit to the gullibility of the city man in the country. Honors are easy, The | Countryman coming to town frequently has his navigation arranged by the bunco steerer and he finds the smooth waters of his existence sud- denly turned into a wiid storm of speculation, and he sails back into the country without any cargo except a large consignment of experience. and ‘beautifully re-| ES 1+ apt to buy useless clothing merely to sat- | a sudden fane ing Hebrew. he has taken to some cap- If anew pickpocket has ar- is \t together by some mysterious hidden force. the countrygan takes drink he proceeds often | to roar like one of his own short-horn bulls, and he soon disturbs the peace. On thy whole the | countryman fares rather badly when he comes ‘to the city. He has, however, nd kense is a coun- for the very good reason that it would be no use; but it must gull him exceed ingly, or,us he would say, “raise his dand. consitable.” to be iaughed ‘at and treated like a big child that can be easily teased, or amused, or deceived, COUNTRY SURPRISES FOR But just look at the poor countr; It crry wax. y man in the Just think of the troubles, start lie in wait for him. ‘anghed at in the city, let the Y man reflect npon the horribly ri figure he cuts in the country. Take the matter of dogs, for i e. Inthe eity you under-| stand that you are enfe from ¢! for dan- gerous ones i ermitted to roam at they are apt t of riches. ei ny human calves to bit the dog lets the matter @ where i as noth- vencim of his spleen dog, and this is rather an unneces for his master seldom any portable erty that a rane inan would wish to steal. city man, therefore, having nothing but a oretical knowledge of th dog. tha! ts him. when ke * 4 pr iy. ile strokes his nd Now, if the de fe:it the do in the man x chan, not nee ded. but if the ¢ at ail the cha from fancie. security, choo: ne by on probe! try men if the dog attac! iS more than unde: from shock. he sense you and . mine your corstitutio of hanior of the cor in it HABITS OF cEICi ickens. There is no danger to 2a, but the coun | Then, take he‘her you ev one day. ‘ou know almost t they 3 two egy a3 a fact that the such a thing: that i t there ahen he once hid th: e is not Iving—that is, he thinks but he is either joking or’ is the evous mistake. Countrymen is not | tim of a g ~ | try to conizse men with remarksabout roosier's | eg there they fail, for the mest pro- | n ed city men know that eggs are things pecaliar to hens. |. As for hogs, cows and bulls, the city man is jinconstant danger from them. A sow with a | Hiter of pigs is often fierce, and there is some- | thing painfully ignominious in being chased by ja hog. They never chase countrymen, but, being of a humorous disposition, they take especial pleusure in frightening’ a smart clothed young man from the city into jumping intow mug hole, Cows and bulls, too, are ferocious looking, and when one of the latter makes a lunge at you you had better pocket your dignity and get over the fence as fast as ‘oa cau, even if the fence is made of barbed wire. THE BARBED-WIRE FENCE. The barbed-wire fence is in itself a source of misery to the unsophisticated. Countrymen go into the ficld it incloses by a gate, or near a post where they climb with the greatest delib- eration and care, but the wretch who has never had more than a distaat acquaintance with this treacherous invention is thoroughly convinced that hecan go through the fence in a where there are no barbs. Reckless idiot! learns too late that he can’t do jt. The lacera- 1g enough, but also. ‘orn The cit? man in the country suffers, too from thé constant contempt that he is visited with. “He does not like to clean a horse; fore he knows nothing about horses. He rides asa city man should and as few countrymen cans therefore he does not know anything about He likes to be clean and he it for dinner; therefore he is a namby- pamby Miss Naney. But aitain the full measure i little money and see how much energy there is | if the | im barking he | Written for the Evening Star. HIS LIFE AT RICHFIELD. Some Interesting Incidents in the Career of John Brown. BE WAS A TANNER AND A SHEPRERD- WIS SKILL IN TESTING AND SORTING $HE DIFFERENT GRADES OF WOOL—mIS TWO MARRIAGES AND PREPARATIONS FOR FUTURE WORK. RRINGTON, CONN., POSSESSES THE distinction of being the birth place of Joba Brown; North Elba, N. ¥., his burial place; Harper's Ferry—of which Brown calmly re- marked to his jailer as he rode in the wagon by that official’s side to the scaffold: “This is a beautiful country, Ihave not cast my eyes over it before in this direction”—his death place, while the little country town of Rich- field, in northern Obio, is unique in the owner- ship of the only verse ever written by this friend of the slave. HIS ONE VERSE. Tt is engraven on « simple memorial slab in the village cemetery below the records of the death in the month of Soptember, 1843, of four of Brown's children. The stone is sunken, as well as moss grown, while disputations thistles and blackberry vines seem determined to farther prevent one from reading the inscrip- tion, but after all these difticulties are sur- mounted the lines are found to run: +-Through all the dreary night of death Te pencehuiuinper may. ee “when eteran? day shall dawn ‘And shades and death have past and gone, yon then with iad surprise, THE MODERN LONDON MAID. ‘The Old Town Doesn't Quite Know How to Take Her, but She's All Right. From th= London Truth. ‘Two or three generations ago mothers held it as part of their matornal duty to live with their daughters in closer kind of compamonship | and tohavea stricter supervision over their Works and ways than is considered necessary now. For instance, it would have been impos- sible for a well-conducted young lady of a cer- tain social condition to walk alone in London ane dd to a public ball, save with so strict a chaperonage and 80 an entourage as kept her sheltered and made her safe; to read the police repagts or the divorce exes in the newspapers; to read, at least 0 uly, improper books; to see loose plays: to be in any way made free’ of the mysteries of life, not to of ite moral sores. Those were reserved for the mat- tront who bad bought thelr privileges of knowledge by age and ex ce. But the maiden mind was held and the maiden was like a fenced-off garden,which the rude | er aoe of independence was never suffered deface. All this fs changed now, and the weather- cock of fashion has set to the exactls cont quarter. Now, all the ory is for girlish inde- pendence, the abolition of maternal super- vision, the disregard of maternal authority | and the unqualified possession of the “key of | the fields.” Now girls may wander all over | London unattended and unprotected. | Pall Mall, where clubmen flit to and fro, an: keen eyes watch from windows for likely chances; in Regent street, where flaneurs still pass slowly up and down, also on the lookout for likely chances; down the Haymarket to | | | Of may Yn God's owa itunge wake and Fae.” cept in the same fashion that some common- place line of acelebrated actor who we know that later in the play is to be the eentral figure of a striking piece of tragedy is interesting. John Brown, indeed, had no monopoly of the mure in that vear of grace 1843, as is evidenced by the inscription of astone not far from bis mily tablet, which chronicles the sudden tak- ing off by the kick of a horse of an individual— perhaps a neighbor of him whose soul is march- ing on—weighted by the name of Adoniram, which plaintively announces: To my s: Behold, bi mI ‘ Soon as the year Lexins. ©», think, when you pass by, How suilava wel vay death” ynay you re tote * ‘Before you end your breath. RIS LIFE AT RICHFIELD. John Brown, during his Richfield life, occu- pied a small log house not far from the ceme- tery where these children lie. Adjcining his dwelling was a tanner, whereof he was the | providing spirit. Both tannery and log house | have now been leveied by time, a fact speal lic was directly inter- | rived in town he and the countryman are drawn loudly for the absence of hero-worship on the | part of the descendants of Lis old-time neigh- bors, In connection with this business of tanning, he was the hired shepherd of the flocks of a | lary I sheep owner and was far deflors far and noar for % | tonch in sorting the differe and his skill in testing them when submitted to him. It wax gaid that he could distinguish the dark wool grown in Saxony, Vermont or Obio. On one occasion a g over a nambe cussing with Brow various parposes, w | handed out | wisp cut fr what ould do with = wool as that. | Brown rolied it in his fingers for a minute Jand then with equal gravity handed it back, | saying: mong poodle { Brown yoa_have any machine that will work up ait Ta | merchent prin | but in the prot. | to him.” p amount of wealth, tion of the interests confided eed, according to r ws. bat 30. self-co that they go little further Richtield ained was ho than that in de: ward to uccom- one of his sons years before his father had catied him with his brothers then and there asked nto com- pact with him to Inbor for tus abolition of Hlavery, and this be jone he knelt wh tes that several e could not have As to tell, n and prony rried nr y her muid, . by her very e: ver wh istent con J over him, ‘ he four chil- | dren who sleep on that Ohio bulside are part of | her flock. Three of them were carried ont of | the house at one funersl, while the other died | daring the month. In speaking of this event | Mrs. Brown on: That was the t ein my life when ail my 7 philosophy, all my faith God's goodness were put to the test. My band was away from home prostrated by" sick- ness. Twas helpless from illness and in one week threo of my litile ones died.” She outlived her husbund many years and paid her last visit to the graves of these chil- dion ten years ago during the course of a pil- grimage made from across the continent to North Elba, the burial place of their father. ‘LETTER WRITTEN IN PRISON. Among the treasures possessed by a descend- ant of one of John Brown's old friendgis an autograph letter written shortly before his exe- cution, It reads: Z Cuaniestowx, Jzrrensox Covytr, Va., Nov. 16, 1859. My dear friend: Your most cheering letter is received. May the Lord reward you a thou- sand fold for the kind feelings you express to- ward me, but more especinily for your fidelity fo the “poor that ery and those that have no help.” For this I am a prisoner in bonds. Pate | But these light afflictions which endure for a moment shall but work for me “‘a far more ex- ceeding and eternal weight of glory.” Fare- well. God will surely attend to his own cause tn the Devt possible wa and time, and He will not fe werk of his own hands, i Joux Brown. ofa friend and “Oh, Jenny, Jenny! I'm so gad! Tm oo ES sand EES arse Lod Not a remarkably interesting production, ex- | the Strand, meeting the city men returning from their ofiices to their lodgings—anywhere and everywhere, the modern girl may wander if she has a mind, and the loose curb of the | present day will not be tightened byso much as | one link, nor will her mother be condemned, | nor she herself warned, reproved or exhorted. | She says she is safe and that she likes her inde- | pendence; why, then, should the pot have it? | Mother cannot walk as far as she can; why may | she not have the air and exercise which her | constitution requires and her youth craves? | | | Allright. She might as well be given her head, for she will take it if not given; little adventures all. the at she has her she Looking in at the shop windows, her eyes gazing lovingly on that fwscinating dress, that all too charming parure, a tall, soldierly looking man draws up beside her. “That is very pretty,” he rays, in rather a low voice, uid you not like to have it?” Maybe, in- stead of aj ‘ w pickpocket | h bis wil antly je unpleas- will be well for her if she has left home or hrs hidden it in a safer cket as milliners con- ctive in plain clothes ntry parson, with his lessons of his A. pretty | gin at a shop seoms to him a fore- He has not kept pace with e does not understand that a key of the fields” and yet . A young erty of the English miss no make: mistake self- | he takes his fancy with more rdinary acuteness perbaps he follows her ‘ney which may be dattering to her nati embarrassing to her personality. larky’ kind—for, oh, ve aunts and isters, there ate such among aps responds ves can smile : ngenuotsness of the always free from guile. A da few hints are given | ‘Times, places snd ordinary habits ed out witit c on the two an acquaintance springs ch may or may not have disastrous But the possibi to all who go al working of our new system, checked freedom to girls ca women. is hungry work, and our girl hase petite. Where can she go? She has ove the aerated bread shops anda rect dves not appeal to her as it used to her mother and grandmother when they | eir nonage. and thought cakes and acal food. Our modern girl, ved muscles and almost es, desires something more sub- something nourishing and flesh bat becomes thoroughly con- ngements made to supply aodern female nowadays she to door where to go. Not all welcome these solitary youn, ‘look at them askance an of them. There is not the ner, dress and appear- od girl and the girl who thore used to be some twenty or leven restaurant keepers | ” So, until she gets to asone of the “ladies ting shops cater, she shouldered out of one sty with some of the over used to call witch is not agreeable to , of innocent intentions, If cold in close pro’ class whom old Mrs. in another young I per scare was about ¥ girl got many a u 8 followed her and | In the growing dusk of the | ‘ing she was pasted and re- tinous-looking scoundrel, | our _perambut: start ed her. © of those enon the a lonely . Perhaps for @ 4 her foolhardiness in these | gs in strange ‘e not always «a! love of independence has her character, she will | tomorrow as today, as | he day before. Braving | roues on the lookout for Jrels prepared to take 2 get, she will be indignant if eure to answer back, init? Do you think I tself—how she dresses, how ehe sand how she looks. If she walke with of one who has a pur; and neither stops and stares in | ws nor looks every man she meets | the face, she ee escape gr epee ir | she dresses ina flaunting or highly picturesque | way, fuzzes out hes canary-colored hair ints « | Zulu-iike aureole, wears esthetic costumes or | strikingly masculine ones, or affects “loud” colored, staring patterns, she will be set down | as one wishing to attract attention, And che | will get it; and plenty of it, too. If she stares | at every man she meets, or’ looks straight into his eves, a certain subtle Carpi ry My passed between them, which seems to to warrant a closer address. And if she atall the shop windows as one who has more time on her hands than she knows what to do with, here, again, too, she will most be accosted by her male r, also to get rid of time, and not very. careful of the manner in which he does it. and haman matter. All large cities have the eame dangers, the same when our good-looking girls, w | from morning to night, insist on it that they ee do, never followed and never annoys we can say is, “The lady doth pro- test too much, methinks.” All the same, with the ry ; Hy ‘l i F352 He E i ii i i 5 é 8 fH i | i tHe H | i f : i i i i & il { : | asit was provoking to the pers Bartholii’s States to Have = Practical as ‘Well as Sentimental Use. From Harper's Week's. Tt was always intended thet the statue of Liberty in New York harbor shou! serve more | than a sentimental prrpose, and while being « Deacon of liberty also be a light house of value to meriners. For such a useful purpose, how- ever, the statue bas been a failure. Some time ago Maj. Heap of the engincer corps of the army was asked to design a metbod by which the statue could be properly lighted, and therefore serve the utilitarian purposes as well as the sentimerital. ‘Maj. Heap has just reported to the light house board and proposed that the prese: lighte of about 2,000 candle power be no treated that a belt of flame shall be soon instond of the email portion as at present. “The effect I de- | sire to produce,” says Maj. Heap, “is a power fal white light in the focal plane and a beaw of colored light seen by reflection from the haze ot dust in the air, eo that the general appearance shall be somewhat like « flame.” In the head of the statue, over the forehead, {9 coronet consisting of twenty-five windows, In front of each window Maj. Heap proposes to Place two 100-candie-power incandescent lamps, Protected from the weather in glared lanterns, the backs of which shall be reflectors At t the statue, owing to ita dark color, is invisible at night, as the retlected light from the lamps in the ‘salients of the fort is feeble to be seen at any distance. ‘fo partially overcome thie Maj. Heap proposes to place an arc light of 2,000 candle power under the bal- cony of the torch, with a reflector throwin the light directly on the head. This beam a light will be so powerfal will be so near the head that the latter will propably be visible te Vessels passing close to the statue. An O14-Timer Has to Let One Rass Go im Order to Keep the Other. From Forest and Stream About ten days ago the writer, whilé out fish- ing with « friend, witnessed a performance which was about as amusing to the spectators most con- cerned in the affair, Mr. Dare and I were ro- turning home froma trip to the rifties when we expied “Squire MeNeil, an old veteran fisberman of thia place, busily engaged in fish- ing for chubs, As is his usual custom when out of bait, the ‘equire had pulled up toa grass patch, leaving his baited hooks trailing oat from the «tern of the boat, while he went on about the busines of securing more bait. Justas we were pass- ing by at @ respectful dixtancs and had said g00d morning and “what luck” two lange bass tackled the two lines and were off before the “aquire bad time to wink: whr. whr-r-rr fang out the two reels, up got the squire rod in each hand and trying to kee lines tant by @ graceful see-saw mov the body which must have been acquired on the dancing floor years ago. Well.gas a matter of course, one rod had to be dropped: this was done and the fish was soon free. Whe other bese had by thie time roug toe kindly shelter of #ome rocks, snagging the line badly, and it was with considerable difi- culty that the fish was finally landed and found to bea two-pounder. The ‘squire is certain that the bass lost was by far the larger of the two, but just why he did not hold on to him he is not able to explain. We were not near enough to help the ‘squire with his fish nor were we close enough to hear any ‘unilligant” language. The ‘squire says there was none used, be didn’t have the time. ———-eo A Dangerous Business. ‘From Judge