Evening Star Newspaper, October 12, 1895, Page 21

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1895-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES, 21 ARID MADE FERTILE Solving the Problem of Irrigation in the West. GARDEN SPOTS IN KANSAS Subterranean Rivers Harnessed to Do Nature’s Work. RESERVOIRS AND PUMPS Spcetal Correspondence of ‘The Evening Star. + GARDEN CITY, Kan., October 7, 1895. NSAS HAS QUIT trying to bombard heaven into timely rains, and has taken up the other horn of the dilemma, that of preserving the rain that does fall against the dire time of need that is bound to come nine years out of ten. Kansas riv- ers and all the rivers of the arid and semi-arid regions are shifting, unreliable streams, never to be counted upon, be the season wet or dry. Men are beginning to learn that it is sense- less to try to irrigate from these streams, which fail when the rains do, and which sink gway when brassy skies and molten suns kiss everything into a white heat. The sweet waters of these strange sub- terranean rivers, which flow unchecked through filtering sands, are to be aarness- ed and made to do the work designed by nature. To accomplish this scientificaily has been the earnest study of hundreds of practical farmers in the arid and semi- grid regions of the ceuntry, and it is sub- stantially admitted that that idea of sub- irrigation crystal&ed first in Kansas. Irrigation Conventions, Since 1891 the subject of irrigation has become an international one. The first “international irrigation convention” was held in Salt Lake City in October of that year. Seventeen states of the Union sent large delegations, and the convention was all that was hoped for it in the way of developing ideas and discussing methods and machinery for agriculture in arid re- gions. The delegates were taken over the fertile Salt Lake valley and shown what the Mormons had accomplished by asans of irrigation. This practical lesson in irrigation was followed up by a convention at Los Ange- Jes, Cal, in 1893, where the delegates had a splendid opportunity to judge of what might be done by scientific irrigation as they passed through the orchards and vine- yards, orange groves and flower gardens growing in the midst of a rocky aridity und surrounded by that abomination of desola- tion—the alkali deserts. Again, in 184, the convention went to an irrigated country, finding in and about Denver just what was wanted for a practical object lesson of the advantages of irrigation. This year they went right into the heart of the arid re- gion of the United States, and held their convention in Albuquerque, N. M., the lat- ter part of September, spending days of delight after the convention closed in vis- iting the old irrigated Mission gardens at Santa Fe, whose adobe buildings look as though they might antedate the fldod, and in going out to the adobe villages cf the Pueblo Indians, where the primitive meth- ods of ancient Egypt are yet followed in Threshing Watermelons, the cultivation of the tiny farms. Next year they will go to Phoenix, Ariz. yet deeper into” the Rocky mountain region, where the question of water supply for crops is most pressing, and the soil is one of the richest on earth. Kansas is checkerboarded with irrigation “ditches,” which have never heen worth the paper on which they were bonded and sold tc gullible capitalists. That method of irrigation proved fallacious long years ago, except for the very few who live so close to the creeks and rivers that they could easily divert the shallow waters to the few acres they wanted for “garden sass." The true method of irrigation in Karsas is by way of subterranean rivers cr as it is more commonly called, the “uw derftow.”” It is water that has ‘been pre- clpitated upon the earth and sunken in, from streams, and the prebable » from the overflow waters of the higher mountain regions. It is found in Kansas along the valleys of the rivers from three feet to twenty feet below the surface, always in a bed of sand which varies in thickness from a few feet to a hundred or more. This bed of sand Hes upon a “hard pan” formation, which ts as impervious to water as a bed of cement, and acts as a floor, keeping the water in the sand, which would else sink on down and be lost. Pumps and Reservoirs, The methods of saving this water and making it do the work that it was des- tined to do In the creation of the world are unique. The idea in general is to sink a well and pump up the water from the “underflow” into reservoirs, and from that storage irrigate a given number of acres of land, the number being regulated by the capacity of the pump and the flow of water from it. These pumps have a de- livery of from fifty gallons of water a minute to a thousand, and often more. The reservoirs are rot hard to construct. Deep furrows are plowed inside the circle cr quadrangle which you wish to convert into a receiving tank. Then from the in- side the dirt 1s hauled in scrapers, forming a bank which the constant tramping of the horses makes hard. The “brim” of the reservoir is thus worked into a smooth, thick wall, and is sodded on the outside with grass, and the floor and inside walls “puddled” to make it hold water. The “puddling’ is done by leaving a lot of Icose earth on which water is turned and mixed into a kind of paste, with which the walls of the reservoir are plastered and pounded till they are hard. Then several horses are turned into the floor of the reservoir and set to tramping about. In a day or two they will have made the floor as hard as rock. Some place close to the bottom of the reservoir there will be a gate from which there runs a spout, and through this the water fs let, at stated in- tervals, upon the land to be irrigated. Into this reservoir the windmill, or steam pump, or whatever motor it happens to be. will begin pumping water, and until it breaks or wears out, it nevef ceases to pump day and night, night and day. Some of these pumps have been going for years, and there has never been the slightest per- ceptible diminution of the flow of water. ‘Theve reservoirs have many advantages. In the western section of the state, besides irrigating the farms, they serve as fish tarks, from which the farmer may take fresh fish for food. In the winter season a splendid crop of the clearest and purest of ice is harvested, and an ice house is an indispensable adjurct of a reservoir. Where dairy farms are run in connection with the irrigation plant, streams of water are run into the dairy, into which the milk crocks are set, and much better results are ob- tained than when ice is used, and vastly better than gettifig along in the old way. They make fine swimming ponds also. At the last session of the legislature a law was passed forming what was called “the Kansas state board of irrigation, consisting of four commissioners. Jud; Sutton, secretary of the board, in his re- pert to the convention stated that the ex- periments thus far established show that the practicability of the idea is taking hold of the farmers, and the comparative cheap- ness of the reservoir plan recommends itself on investigation. In 1888 there were just twenty-six men irrigating their farms. In 1893 the num- ber had increased to fifty-five; in 1894 to 224, an. the report in the convention show- ed that 1,241 had commenced irrigating small farms this year, making a total of 1,€38 farm owners in the western half of Kansas who are using irrigation to raise their crops. If one is to judge by the farms and or- chards in that high, arid region, it certainly is a success. In Kearney county, supposed to be given over to the coyotes, the chief industry is raising watermelons for seed Cutting Ice. for one of the largest seed houses in the world. From one little town car loads of the threshed-out seeds are sent out every ai during the season, and hundreds of acres at a stretch are covered thick with the melons. It is a novel sight to see them, and yet more novel to see the manner in which the seed is “churned” out by the barrel. One of the charming scenes as you pass through this arid region, where too often all else is bleak and bare, are the wonder- ful fields of elfalfa, or “Lucerne” clover, to which the western farmer is more large- ly each year pinning his faith. Three fully matured crops of alfalfa are cut each sea- son, and no seeding is ever necessary after the first crop is cut. With irrigation this clover yields four splendid crops, averag- ing four and fife tons to the acre, but it is essentially a dry-weather grass. B. A Man in Russin Who Has Thirty- Five Thousand of Them. From the Buffalo Express. Valdemer Paulovitch, a young Russian who recently passed through Buftalo on his way to visit friends in Cincinnati, told a reporter of Gustav Jovanovitch, the Rus- sian, who owns more dogs than any other man in the world. Jovanovitch !s the cat- tle king of the Russian steppes. He owns over 1,500,000 sheep, and that is why he has so many degs. They are all of the sh2p- herd breed, and number above 35,000. Jo- vanovitch’s sheep and dogs have descended to him from his forefathers, and, needless to say, he is immensely rich. The dogs are all intelligent creatures, though of a hun- dred breeds, and all perform their offices as faithfully as the most petted shepherd dog of the New York farms. “You can imagine that it costs a great deal of money to feed such a number of animals,” said Mr. Paulovitch. “They are well kept and fed, else they would be forced to turn on their flocks. Jovanovitch has great, barn like structures for the dogs’ shelter and scores of men to care for them. Great car> of the brutes’ health is taken, and a dog rarely goes mad. The million- aire sheep owner buys dog biscuit by the ton in France to guard against distemper. Fleas, of course, are a necessity among such a great number of dogs, though sul- phur baths are provided for their exter- mination. The fleas, however, not only pay the experses of the baths, but put quite a bit of morey into the pockets of the dog- keepers. In St. Petersburg there is a great demand among the wealthy for performing fleas, but cnly the biggest and most intelli- gent are fitted for the work. Of course, among 35,000 dogs one has a great choice of fleas, and Markovitch, the head dog- keeper, has a corner on the performing flea market. “The big, muscular, well-groomed and intelligent fleas which he sends to the cap- ital are taught to perform little tricks. They dance, too, and I have heard that one flea who could skip a spider-web rope was sold to one of the court ladies for 2,000 rubles. Performing fleas, once taken from nature's home, become very delicate, and have to be housed and fed with the greatest care. ‘The czar once went to visit Jovanovitch at his great house on the steppes, and joked with him about his dogs, asking if he was acquainted with all of them. For answer the sheep man led him to the door and blew a blast on his hunting horn. Then from the leng thatched kennels that were spread for a quarter of a mile around there arose a howl in unison from each of the 0) dogs, and before it had died out 140,000 feet were flying over the ground in the direction of Jovanovitch and his royal master. When they reached the place all lay down obedicntly, so that the ground 8 covered with a mat of dogs for a great ance. ‘Come, ycur majesty,’ said Jo- yanovitch, ‘the ‘ground is damp, but my dogs ve made you a carpet.’ And the ezar and his friend walked out to the ken- nels over the strong brutes. “Tne czar sent Jovanovitch a decora- i uded Mr. Paulovitch,.‘‘xnd he 0 ) dogs on Hamburg steaks out Method in Her Answer. From Pearson's Weekly. Bridget (applying for a situation)—‘‘Oh, yis, mum. Oi lived in my last place t’ree weeks, mum.” Mrs. Van Nobbs—“‘And why did you leave? Bridget—“‘Ol couldn't get along with her, she was so old and cranky.” obbs—“‘But I may be old and Bridget—“‘Cranky ye may be, mum, for faces are sometimes deceiving; but owld, river!” . And Bridget got the place. “Mother, I've a favor to ask of you. you are a-goin’ to lick me, don’t do it with a slipper, {t always unmans me!”—Life. It RATIONS FOR TROOPS Choice of an Emergency Diet for United States Soldiers. WHAT THE IRON RATION IS The Soldiers of the Future to Be Independent of Supply Trains. CONDENSED BY EVAPORATION eee ES Written for The Evening Star. ) Wr A FEW Ny weeks from now United States sol- diers will be pro- vided for the first time with an “iron ration.” The boards appointed to consider the question of emer- gency foods, repre- senting the various departments of the army, are sending in their reports, upon which final conclu- sions will be based. Problem: To make up a food package of smal! bulk, which shall render the fighting Iman independent of supply trains for a short period in case of an exigency such as might arise from his being wounded or cut off with a de- tachment from the main command. “Experiments in this line are being made by all the great war powers,” said Major Woodruff to a reporter of The Star at the War Department yesterday. “They are trymg everything imaginable for the pur- pose. Here, for example, is an element of the British emergency ration. It looks like a@ dog-biscuit, doesn’t it? Three ounces it weighs, and it is four inches square. It is composed simply of whole wheat solidly compressed. A condensed loaf of bread you might call it. The French have a new ‘war bread,’ which is to replace hard tack for the use of their army. Its ingredients and the processes for making it are a se- cret. When a piece ef it is put into hot water or soup, it swells up like a sponge and is said to be virtually the same as fresh bread. Evaporated Vegetables. “For emergency rations evaporated vége- tables have been tried, but not with great success. They are not nutritious enough, and they do not keep well. Here is a one- pound can of evaporated onions. Smells strong, doesn’t it? It ought to, inasmuch as it represents ten pounds of fresh onions. In the same way potatoes, carrots, turnips and cabbages are put up. Desiccated foods are now being produced on an enormous scale by many firms in this country and abroad. A good thing, which we may adopt, is this desiccated Beef. One ounce of It is equal to five ounces of ordinary meat, because it is absolutely water free. It is too hard to cut with a knife without trouble, and so the soldier chops off a small hunk of it. He puts the piece into a little machine like a coffee mill and grinds it up. It comes out in fine shavings, ready to be eaten on bread or to be used for soup stock. “Beef tea, used as _a stimulant, Is a good thing for soidiers. For an emergency ra- tion it is put up in capsules, one of which makes a cup. Each capsule contains the necessary seasoning and costs two cents. Beef tea contains almost no nutriment, but only the flavoring and stimulating qualities of the meat. Canned Foods. “It is certain that canned foods will play an important part in future wars. The Belgian iron ration is a ten-ounco can of corned beef, put up in a liquor that is flavored with vegetables. The German emergency ration is a one-pound can of preserved meat, with hard bread and pea sausage. A biscuit composed of meat and flour has been tried for the German army, but the soldiers would not eat it. The biscuit was supposed to furnish the fight- ing man with everything necessary for his physical support, water excepted. To be satisfactory, a ration must be palatable as well as wholesome and nutritious. A dietary for troops cannot be settled on a basis of theory only; it must be tested in practice. What will satisfy soldiers of one nation may not suit those of another. : The Pea Sausage. “Very likely United States soldiers would not put up with the German ‘erbswurst.’ Yet that species of pea sausage is said to have been a leading cause of the success of the German arms in the Franco-Prus- sian war. Without it the troops could not have endured the fatigue to which they were subjected. The sausage is made of pea meal, fat and bacon. It was devised by a German cock, from whom the inven- tion was purchased by the government for 5,000. The secret lies in the method of preparation, by which the article is ren- dered proof against decay. Each sausage is eight inches long and makes twelve plates of nutritious soup. There could hardly be a better emergency ration. Condensed Soups. “Among other things under consideration by our own War Department are condensed soups. This little packet, which looks somewhat like a bundle of cigarettes, con- tains just three ounces of desiccated pea soup. You observe, it is so compressed as to be quite hard. I break it up and throw it into this saucepan. To it I add one quart of water, and I place it on the gas stove here to boil. For flavoring, though it is not necessary, let us add a small quantity of these evaporated onions. In the course of fifteen minutes I will offer you a plate of very excellent pea soup. Soups, you understand, are most useful in rations. For health it is not sufficient to put a certain amount of. nutriment into the body; the stomach must be distended. Soup does that. Incidentally, the soldier who consumes one of these rations absorbs one quart of sterilized water. “Cordersed soups may be purchased in tablets three inchcs square and half an inch thick. Each tablet weighs four ounces and makes six plates of soup. In food val- ue one tablet is equal to one and three- quarter pounds of potatoes. Bean, mock- turtle, green corn, barley and potato soups are desiccated in this form. Tomato, vege- table and fish chowder soups are similarly prepared. What do you suppose this is? It looks like a button, doesn’t it? It is a cup of tea condensed. All you have to do is to drop it Into a cup of hot water and stir it up. The sw2etening is in the but- ton with the tea. No, the sweetening is not sugar, but ‘saccharine.’ Coffee is put up in the same way, with saccharine, as well as in a shape that looks like black mo- lasses. What an Iron Ration is. “An iren ration is a short-weight and highly concentrated diet intended to cover only a brief period. It is not to be used except when the regular food supply can- not be obtained. Supposing the army sup: plies to be regularly furnished, the fighting man ought to return from the campaign carrying in his haversack the same emer- gency ration with which he started out originally. But it may happen that his regiment or brigade is cut off from the main body, and in that case the emergency rations may be literal salvation. Or he may be left wounded on a field of battle, un- able to obtain anything to eat for days, unless he has it with him. During the re- cent war with China the Japanese found emergency rations a necessity in active service. An army or a large part of it may be thrown rapidly forward to hold a posi- tion, and it takes a week or more to make roads, so as to get supplies to the front. ‘This very thing occurred at Vicksburg, where, for lack of emergency rations, Grant’s men suffered severely from hun- ger. One of the questions to be decided is whether the ration shall be carried at the belt or in the haversack. Three day's al- lowance, weighing two and a half pounds, may be packed conveniently in a sealed un and attached to the belt. The tin is read- ily opened with the finger and serves as a cooking utensil. A typical iron ration for ore day would consist of five ounces of a oatmeal, a tabletsof coffee, a quarter- ounce of salt, antl afifive-ounce soup tablet, tomposed of dried Beef, pea meal, potatoes and suet. £3 Stimg{qits Needed. “Stimulants ate necessary to soldiers. They keep up their cheerfulness and en- able them to enduré fatigue and privation. Depressed troops Yo not fight well. Ac- cordingly, tea arid‘coffee are included in emergency ratichs.' It seems not unlikely that the kola nut miay be used for military Purposes, on avcduht of its wonderful pow- er as a- stimulant, ‘reviving the exhausted, mitigating hunger and thirst, and enabling men to do much’mbre work.’ It acts in an exaggerated manger like tea or coftee, with- cut producing any subsequent reaction or bad effects. Its-employment would be a great help in forced marches. “The kola nut.to be worth anything, must be fresh. Before long, doubtless, it will ke a common commercial article. It is successfully cultivated in the West In- dics and along the wdjacent shores of South and Central America, where it is consumed in immense quantities, almost replacing tea, coffee and alcohol. It is the fruit of a large tree, and is about as big as a horse chestnut, growing in pods of three to eleven nuts in a pod. Undoubtedly, the tree would grow in southern California, and very likely it might be cultivated in the gulf states. Chewing the nut stimu- lates the brain and acts as a tonic on the muscles. Its peculiar action is due to a specific alkaloid called ‘kolanin,’ which has not yet been isolated in a pure state. If two equal armies face one another, and one, by the help of the kola, can do one- tenth more than the other, it will be suc- cessful, other thing being equal. For, if there are 250,000 men engaged on each side, the eifect will be the same as a reinforce- ment of 25,000 men. a MANY JEKYLLS AND HYDES. Strange Double Lives Led by Well- Known People. From Tid-Bits. There are numbers of people who lead double lives. While in some cases the mo- tives which influence such persons are pretty evident, in many others one seeks @ reason in vain. A lady well known in fashionable soctety, particularly in select ball room circles,’and whose wealth ard personal attractions are matter of common repute, is in the habit of donning the role of a ballet dancer at a celebrated West End theater, where, under an assumed name, she finds ready employ- ment. Her dual life is carefully kept a se- cret, save from one or two of her most inti- trate friends, and neither her aristocratic ccnnections on the onenand nor her asso- ciates of the stage on the other have any conception that Lady A—— of polite socie- ty and Cissy M—— of the —— Theater are one and the same person. What the lady’s motives can be for tndulging in this’ dual existence it is not easy to see, but it is a fact that any scheme for the social im- provement of theatrical employes finds in her a ready and munificent patron. Another lady, also well known in society, leads a curious doubie life. During the London season she occupies a legitimate place at the head of numerous social func- tions, but directly the curtain is drawn over the high-class carnival she shuts her big house In Mayfair and retires to the country, where, under another name, she superintends and carr! an a profitable business in the cheese farming line. When the season begins again the management of the concern is placed in competent hands, and the lady resumes Her station in society. Money-making is evidently not the influencing motive for this two-fold ex- istence, for the’ lady's private wealth is large, and the rcnists of the concern men- ticned are said to-be greatly discounted in acts of charity. ..; A dual life seems to possess great at- tractions for people in high stations. A certain peer, bearer of a name that has, in its duy, done dqughty service in political life, spends half his time in his wonted sphere as a member of the aristocracy, and the other moiety he whiles away by don- ning the blouse ef a mechanic in an en- gineering workshop. In similar manrer another member of the hereditary house, is: in the habit of fre- quently dropping his identity as one of the “upper ten,” and .seeks and finds employ- ment as engine driver on one of our promi- nent lines of railway. Yet another live Jord is eredited with Jeading the dual ex- istence of a peerjef the realm and driver of a hansom cab. The motives that influence such cases as these are different to the reasons actuating a London clergyman, whose income from clerical duty is so small that he finds it necessary to conceal his identity during four days of the week in order that he may srpplement his scanty stipend by doing the work of a wine merchant's clerk. By far the larger proportion of dual lives are adopted for nefarious purposes. Charles Peace, the notorious burglar, and murderer of Mr, Dyson, is an example of a criminal wlo, for long, successfully adopted a dou- ble role in life. At Lambeth, Greenwich and Peckham, where he successively re- sided in first-class style, Peace led the Hfe of a gentleman of independent means, en- joying the respect of his neighbors, none of whom had the remotest idea of associating him with the daring burglaries perpetrated in their midst during his residence among them, and of which he was, in reality, the author. It was the intimacy which his as- sumed position gained for him in getting admittance to the houses of the gentry around that enabled him to commit some of his most notorious robberies. Others of his kind have played the dou- ble role The appearance of a certain “Italian count,” who had the run of fash- fonable society some years ago, was mark- ed by the disappearance of quantities of jewels and valuables from the houses of many of those whom he visited. The rob- beries became so frequent that special en- Geavors were made by the police to cape ture the perpetrators. After long and fruitless searching the larcenies were final- ly traced to the “foreign nobleman,” who, until arrested and sent to meditate over his performances in one of her majesty's gaols, had, it appears, been in the habit of ee the double role of count by day and burglar by night. Dual existences such as these society can well do without. SS How to Run a Furnace Fire. From the Philadelphia Times. The furnace fire should be shaken down and raked perfectly clear in the morning. A few shovelfuls of coal shoutd’ be put on, and all the draughts opened. The ashes should then be taken up. AS soon as the coal begins to burn well and the fire looks clesr at the bottom, put in enough coal to ccime almost to the top of the firepot. Keep the draughts open until all the gas has burned off; then close them, and later, if the fire be too hot, open the checks. Ex- cept in extremely cold weather, this is all the attention that ought to be necessary through the day. The fire must be raked down and fresh coal or cinders put on in the evening, but a small amount of coal will answer for the night, unless the draughts have been open the greater part of the day. On an extremely cold day It may be nec- essary to have the draughts open a part of the time and some coal put on at noon. ee. Absent-Mindedne From the London Spectator. The best instance I know is that of an amiable Irish judge, now no longer on the bench. Among otber amusing tales told of him, it ts said that on the occasion of a “par dinner” he went up stairs to dress, but did not reappear. The company sat patiently for some time, till at length, just as their hunger was getting the better of their manners, ang an emissary was being dispatched to huht’ up the missing judge, his lordship appeared, and explained, with many apologies, that, imagining he was retiring for the night, he had undressed and got into bed. After an hour's snooze it suddenly struck him that he had not yet dined, on which he hurried down to his guests. +o+—___—_ A Suggestion. From Life. The Pilgrim Society of Plymouth, Massa- chusetts, has sent over to Scrooby, England, and screwed a memorial plate against a house wall near that village in honor of the original pilgrims who went from there to Holland, and subsequently came to Ply- mouth on the Mayflower. The idea thus sug- gested of putting up monuments in their native country of persons who went abroad and succeeded in life is not without in- terest. How long may we suppose it will be before the grateful British will send over a delegate to screw a bronze plate up on a convenient corner of 5th avenue to preserve the memory of William Waldorf Astor, and commemorate his emigration? MANY POTS OF GOLD War-Time Devices to Conceal Valuables From Guerrillas. Bags of Money Hidden So Securely That They Haven't Been Recovered Yet — Shifts to Escape. From the Atlanta Constitution. For a hundred years to come there will be tales of treasure trove from that large section of the mid-south which was for tiiree years of civil war a debatable land, wherein, outside the army posts, there was no security of person or property. The invaders themselves had a pretty taste for looting, but they were nothing like so ra- pacious as the guerrillas, who plundered impartially men of all sympathies, and as often sported blue and brass as the con- federate gray. The guerrillas had, indeed, but a single active principie—pillage. Gold Was at an enormous premium, and nearly all the rich agricultura! country produced crops of cotton or tobacco, both equivalent to gold in the controlling Evropean marts. The owners of such crops were in a war between the devil and the deep sea. It was extra hazardous to sell and hoard the pro- ceeds, yet to undertake to store the produce was to invite the guerrillas’ ready torch. Then, too, the country swarmed with trad- ers. They gave liberal prices—enormous, indeed, on the face, when payment could be made in greenbacks. If Kentucky bank notes were demanded by wie seller there was something of reduction, but if the vay- ment was ii gold prices went down, almost out of sight. Still, very many did insist on having gold, and found life a burden after they got it. The writer remembers, as a small child, the weeks of unrest that followed the com- ing into the house of a fai bag of double eagles in exchange for many hogsheads of tobacco. In that time and piace gold was more dangerous than dynamite. All the household had heard with curdling biood of the tortures old men had endured '§ attempts to make them revexl ihe hiding place of thelr money. One, a famiiy connection, had been strapped to a board and he!d with his feet to a slow fire untii they were so crisp he never walked aga yet to the last he had kept sioutiy silent. Another had been swung up by the thumbs throughout a long cold night, with nothing on but the garments in which he had been dragged from bed. An old woman mi had been beaten raw and her wounds w ed with vinegar. Indeed, every variet: torture that tiendish ingenuity could devis was said to have been practiced toward the unhappy possessors of hidden treasures. Secreting the Treasury. So it became a matter of first importance to be able to say truthfully that you knew nothing of such a thing. Heads of families, of course, bore the brunt of questioning, ané it was, therefore, determined that the smallest of the family should be intrusted with the task of secreting the gold. To this day it brings a thrill and creepy feel- ing up and down the spine to recall going out into the big woods alone, wandering there for an hour and at last scrambling up a big hollow oak, into an upper cavity of which a heavy sealed tin box was dropped, there to remain untouched, unwatched, un- til its contents could be sent by a sure hand to New York city for investment. That was a year later. In the interval, if by any chance sudden death had come, the money would most likely be there yet, as the tree stood in the edge of a bit of marsh land that is unlikely ever to be cleared and cul- tivated. Sudden death did come in many cases. Onc old farmer, who had held three years’ crop until prices were at their highest, got 312,000 in the yellow metal, took it home and gave it to his wife, bidding her do the best she could with it.” She was an easy- going, unthrifty sort of body, and buried it in the garden in plain sight of everybody about the place, taking only the precaution to set a straggling rose bush on top of it, and, further, to put above the gold a bag of silver that she herself had saved up. That was Friday night. On Sunday the family all went to preaching. When they cam home the rosetree lay uprooted, the bag of silver was gone, and so were a wagon and team, besides a family of ne- groes, They had taken all of their belongings and so much of their master's and run away to the nearest federal outpost, which was twenty miles off. Pursuit was useless and would have been foolish. The farmer eyed the rifled hole a minute, then thrust his arm down into ft, scratched about fu- riously, clutched something deeper down and brought up the bag of gold. The sil- ver had saved the gold. The despoifers, finding it, had not thought to dig deeper. But the owner was not satisfied to trust his wife’s hiding further. He was a %odly man, but, Sunday thovgh it was, he swung the bag over his shoulder and tramped off into the woods. He did not come back un- til the night was well on and said nothing of what he had one with the money. He never said anything, in fact. Six months later he was found dead in bed of heart disease, and though his heirs hunted high and low, have asked the help of the divin- ing rod ‘and consulted clairvoyants, to say nothing of having cleared up the woodland and dug over almost the whole thousand- acre farm, to this day they have never found a trace of the lost money. A Variety of Devices. Another man buried a pot of gold in a rickety barn, then set fire to the structure, being certain that nobody would think of rummaging in the-ashes. And still another put $50,000 in gold and greenbacks in the earthen floor of his smoke house, and let it stay there five years, not daring to take it out until reconstruction was pretty well accomplished. One of his neighbors, the thriftiest man in the county, was known to have put a very large sum in the rock walls of his cellar, but to have grown dis- trustful of that hiding place, and so to have chosen another. Where the other was located never came out; the man who chose it waa secretive, and did not tell even his only son. By and by he was stricken speechless and motionless at a time when he looked to be good for years of life. He did live six months, and throughout them he made desperate efforts to tell his secret, but all in vain. It is still a secret—except as to a few thousand dollars, which his grandson found twenty years after, under the rock pillars of an old corn crib. In numerous cases money was hidden in open fields, and the land plowed over to hide the fresh earth. Then it was neces- sary in some unobtrusive way to mark the exact spot, or the hider would be none the better for saving himself from robbery. Scmetimes the mark was a peculiarly shaped stone, sometimes a bit of iron, such as a worn-out plow point or king bolt, which might readily be left a-field. More com- monly it was a thin rod of hard wood cap- ped with metal, or, better still, an old ram- rod, driven into the earth above pot or jar, and left standing an inch above ground. One wise woman raised several broods of chickens, which, she declared later, ought to be called golden pheasants, as they were all hatched in the fence corner nest, under which she had hidden by night a half-gal- lon fruit jar full of gold. Another wore ragged shoes and homespun frocks, and busied herself with spinning and weaving, more to save herself from the suspicion of having money in hand, and all the time had $3,000 in a belt around her waist. It belonged to orphans for whom her husband. was guardian, and while he was away fighting for the confederacy she had no mind he should be made out faithless to his trust. A third astounded her neighbors by developing great style in her hair dress- ing. She wore every day the cumbrous cushions then known colloquially as “rats,” and it was not until vears after that any- body came to know how she had worn for so many months a crisp new $100 green- back in the heart of each rat. Autumn. in the corn patch, istling negro songs; Pussy Ly the Hearthside, mping with the t Chesttts In the ashes => Bursting through the rindy Red-leaf and gold-leat Rustling down the wind; Mother ‘doin’ peaches All the afternvon— Don't you think that Autumn's Pleasanter than June? =T. B. ALDRICH. An Exception, From the Indianapolis Journal. “I hardly know whether to marry her or not,” said the count, ‘Her father is in the clothing trade.” “There is money in clothes,” said the duke. “There isn’t any in mine,” said the count. — Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U.S:Gov’t Report Real Baking Powder ABSOLUTELY PURE THE BABY’S NAME. The Dificulty of the Fond Parents in Designating the Newcomer. From the New York Tribune. “We've named him! Mr. Lemuel Rusgles opened the screen dcor wide encugh to admit his head, crowred with its Panama straw hat. His sister Persis looked up interrogatively. She was paring green apples for sauce, and the sudden pause of her knife sent a small, indigestible looking specimen spin- ning across the floor. “You don’t tell me!” she said. Yes, we’ve named him,” Lemuel said, foliowing the Panama hat into the kitchen. ‘Well, it's time you did—poor little fel- ler! : Lemuel sat down, and the paring knife again took up its peregrinations round and round an apple. “How'd you ever git round to it, Lem?” Mr. Kuggles’ whole bearing was triumph- ant. There was unusual dignity about the set of his Sunday clothes, lurking in their creases and folds and shining out of their button: Even his Panama hat appeared to have borrowed extra luster. He crossed his legs and sat up with unbending prim- ness. “‘Le’s have the story, Lem,” Persis said, smiiing over at him. “I guess it’s wuth hearin’ this time, anyhow. You ‘n’ Marthy have b’'n a powerful while namin’ that baby. One time I calc’lated you was goin’ to let him name himself—ain’t he nigh six months old, if he’s a day?’ = he’s more’n six months—he’s goin’ on seven. But he’s got a name now. He's all right, fur’s that goes.” Mr. Ruggles’ countenance assumed a contented aspect that sat becomingly upon it. He hitched his chair nearer to Persis, and took up a green apple and tossed it gently from one hand to another. The limp cotton gloves attracted his sister’s notice. “Yes, I be consid’able fixed up, Persi: Lemuel hastexed to say in apolog: 'Y see, it’s a sort of a holiday an’ I’m cele- bratin’ The yellow almanac, hung over the ta- ble, swayed a Hitle in the breeze from the open deor, and Persis glanced up at it. “A holiday?” she queried. Why, yes, a sorter family holiday, as it were. You see, we named him this mornin’ at a quarter to 1l—or mebbe ‘twas twenty minutes of. I come over to ask you te sup- per. Marthy sent me. She's all dressed up in her second-best weddin’ dress, an’ we're goin’ to have preserved barberries an’ angel toes The baby’s got on his best clothes, 00." The baby's father took a tentative bite of the green apple, and hastily hid the wry face it occasioned behind one of the cotton gloves. He was not a young father, and it was not easy to associate him with the proud ceremony of baby-naming. ‘There were criss-cross puckers on his high fore- head, and the beginning traces of baldness on top of his head. = He settled back on his chair. “It was this way, Persis. Marthy ’n me’s been ter- ribly worked up over findin’ a name for che little chap. We kep’ runnin’ onto new ones an’ spe tin’ over ’em till we was more unsarta'n than we was before. Marthy, she was kinder for callin’ him Caleb Solo- mon, after both his grandfathers, but Caleb Sclemon Ruggles didn’t sound jest easy an’ poetic to me noways I could pronounce it. So we giv’ that up. Then there was Ephraim John, after Martay’s uncle, an’ Le Baron Wiggin an’ Guy Claude Vere de Vere—that come out of a story book--an’ Launcelot Lemuel—that was after a book chap an’ me both—an’ a quantity of other real pretty names. But there didn’t none of ‘em suit. We read books an’ books, an’ hunted up a pile of college programs of brotizer John’s up in the atzic, an’ said over all the names out loud, an’ experimented with ’em.” : Persis had to go into the pantry for a saucepan cover, und there was a slight hitch in Mr. Ruggles’ story. When Persis came back she said reflectively: “Well, I didn’t know ‘twas such a job namin’ babies! I declare, it’s enough to scare folks out of marryin’, ain’t it?” Mr. Ruggles nodded in solemn acqui- escence. “But it ain’t a hurryin’ matter. You've got to put your mind on it an’ keep it on a good long spell. It's. a turrible responsi- bility, Persis. But when you've on it on the right name it’s a reg’lar deligiv His eyes shone with pleasure. “This mernin’, after milkin’, I set down in a reckin’ chair an’ says to Marthy, I says, ‘I'm going to set right in this chair till that baby gets named! It ain't any won- der he cries so much—he’s lonesome. He dcn’t feel to home without knowin’ who he is. He won't never feel acquainted an’ to home till he finds that out.’ So Marthy she set down in another rocker, ¢n’ wy went at it harder'n ever. The baby lafd in the cradle an’ held his breath, so to speak. We got out them programs agein, an’ that’s where we found his name. It kep’ occurrin’ among all the other names, an’ we decided on it rignt off then. I don’ know why we hadn't never thought of it before, unless it was because it was sort of common, comin’ so often. But we ioth Liked it.” Mr. Ruggles rose to his feet rer- vously. hope you'll like it, Persis; I de- said. t's a real takin’ name, an’ sounds real kind of aristocratic, an’ I ain’t ever heard of anybody with it—not anywhere. I sucess it warn’t common only ’round that section where John went to college. It appeared to be a favorite name there.” Lemuel put on his hat and went to the screen door. “Supper’ll be ready at 5 o'clock,” he said, looking back. Persis hurried after him. “But you ain’t told me what it was yet, Lem,” she said, eagerly. ‘What what was?” Why, the baby’s name.” ‘Oh—why, to be sure!” Mr. Lemuel Ruggles drew himself up with paternal dignity. His plain face radiated pride from every feature. “My son’s name,” he said, solemnly, “my son’s name is Anon—Anon Ruggles. oe SS He Had One. From the Chicago News Herala. When they met at the street corner the yeung man in the sack suit shook his head sadly. “Poor Brown,” he said. “Ah, yes, it is too bad,” replied the man with the neglige shirt. “When did he die?” “Yesterday.” “Well, he alw: ys was an unfortunate a “You knew his wife, then?” inquired the other. “Yes “Well, did you hear the remarkable fea- ture of his death?” “No; I hadn't heard there wa: h, it was most extraordinary “What was it?” “Why, you know, during his lifetime every one said he had no will of his own?” Syear You don’t say so?” , yes. He must have had one, for he left. it when he died, and it has just been probated.” Household Repartee. From Tid-Rits. The lady was making some remarks about the kind of clothes some other ladies at church had on, when her husband re- marked: “The finest garment a woman can wear is ig the mantle of charity.” “Yes,” she snapped, “and it’s about the only one some husbands want their wives to wear.” ——_——+e+-_-___ A Busy Year. e From Life. Bobbie—“Say, if you are going to pro- pose to sister I wish you would let me know the night.” a Fiddiebuck—“What do you want to know or?” Bobbie—‘Well, she’s had four this already, and I haven't missed one yet.” ee The Kansas Sandow. From the Detroit Free Press. ‘Westerner—We call that man the Kansas Sandow. Easterner—Why 80? Westerner—He lifted the mortgage on his farm inside of a year. ear BURIAL ALIVE. Popular Fear of It and Devices to Prev . vent Its Occurrence. From the Chicago Tribune. “When once the dread of being buried alive takes hold of a man‘he usually bee comes a maniac on the subject. The terror of the awful possibility of the thing seems to become a sort of second nature to him, and he spends the rest of his life in dev: ing ways and means to prevent such a calamity happening to himself or to other persons.” The speaker was a man connected with one of Chicago's largest cemeteries, and the incident which brought out the remark was a remarkable one. A man, in walking through the cemetery, had seen a grave which was not filled in, although the coflin was deposited in it. Instead of the earth being thrown in, the grave was covered with boards. On these boards were the flowers that had been used at the funeral, The men connected with the cemetery seemed disinclined to talk about the. inci- dent, but finally one was found who was willing to tell what it meant. “There is a woman in that grave,” he said. “Her husband is a prominent Chi- cagoan, and is what might be called a crank on the subject of being buried alive. When his wife died he delayed the funeral as long as possible, but even then the idea that his wife might yet be alive seemed to haunt him. At his request tests were ap- plied, and he was assured there was no possibility of any spark of life remaining. But he had read of cases where even the doctors had been mistaken, and he resolv= ed to take no chances, So he made ar- rangements with the cemetery management to allow the grave of his wife to remain open a certain length of time. He comes here every day, but this morning he said that the grave could be filled in tomorrow.” Then the man talked of some of the schemes and ideas that possess the minds of some men and women who are filled with the dread of being buried alive or of fearing that some of their friends might meet such a horrible fate. He told of some of the devices that have been invented with this motive in view, and of the time spent by managers of cemeteries in listening to the inventors, “One man,” he sald, “has a scheme by which he would fix a wire in the coffin of ® person when it was buried. This wire is to be carried into the office of the ceme- tery and the thing ir to be arranged 30 that with the slightest movement in the coffin an alarm will be set off in the office or wherever the wire leads. Then the idea is for all haste to be made in disinterring the coffin and, if possible, save a life. ‘Another man would place chloroform in the coffins of all persons. Then, if the oc- cupant should happen to be alive and should make the least movement, the chloroform would be released in such a way as to quickly end the matter and prevent the unlucky victim from enduring any of the horrors of the situation. In this case there is no way of knowing whether the person was alive or dead when buried. “Anather way to insure death is by means of the old dagger,.plan. Like the chloro- form idea, it merely provides for death in case it has not taken place before burial. This dagger idea is from the Italian, and the plan of it is that as soon as a certain weight of earth rests on the coflin lid a powerful spring is released, which in its turn releases a dagger so placed that it will penetrate the heart of the person in the coffin. This idea has been used for years in some parts of Italy, but I have never heard of any one placing such a contriv- ance in a coffin in Chicago, although, of course, it could be done and nobody but those who did it would be the wiser. Sen- sible people, however, when in doubt about death having taken place, will have the coffin placed in the vault, and then it can be watched daily until there is no doubt ay to dissolution.” soe -—__ THE CHICAGO DENTIST. He Makes a SpecinI Feature of Pa! less Extraction on a Free Bas! From the Chieago Tribune. A citizen with a swollen jaw was hasten. . ing along one of the princ‘pal streets of the city, when a sign In front of a tall building caught his attention. It was as follow; Painless Extraction of Teeth Free. He stopped long enough to rote the num~ ber of the flcor on which the business in- dicated by the sign was carried on, and then hurried inside and made his way to the dental pariors. “Is this the place where you pull teeth without pain free?” he inquired. ~ said one of the painless ex- tractors on duty. “Well, I've got a grinder that’s been giv- ing me a good deal of trouble. I wish you'd yank it out.” The sufferer took his place in the chair, and opened his mouth. The operator, after applying to the swollen gum a pungent lotion of somé@ sort, speedily relieved him of the offending molar. “Thanks,” said the caller, climbing down and picking up his hat. “That will be 50 cents,” remarked the dentist. “Fifty cents?” echoed the other. “I thought it wes free. That's what you told me a minute ago, and it's what you say on your sign.” ‘Just s “y, Did it hurt you any?” es, it hurt a little.” A ¢ “That's right. We do our painless ex- tracting free, exactly as we claim. When it hurts we charge for it. Fifty cents, First citizen—“An accident will happen here some day. We'd better have these ramparts paved with smooth stones.” After the improvement.—Fliegende Blatter: