Evening Star Newspaper, October 10, 1896, Page 19

EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 189¢-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. ‘The inn at Loudre was very disagreeable. The odor of garlic and cabbage and the dampness and dirt were insupportable, and so I decided to push on to Danvers. ‘The only vehicle I could procure was a rat- tling two-seated gig, drawn by a bony white horse of doubtful ability; but as my destination was only three hours away, and I was not lable to meet any one on the lonely road, I started off cheerfully enough, resolved to enjoy my solitary drive to the utmost. ‘The moonlight, as it glinted on the soft green of the hedges and streaked the gray of the dusty road, was very beautiful, and before half a league had been passed over I heartily congratulated my good fortune in escaping the horrible inn at Loudre. After an hour's dreamy and delightful ride I came to a cross-roads where with difficulty I deciphered the battered sign- post and learned I must turn to the left to reach Danvers. So, clucking up my delib- erate steed, which proceeded in a half-dig- nified, hulf-protesting fashion, I turned Into @ grassy lane between two tall hedges, and “TOMORROW ANSULLLL LL SE LLL SULTRY MY RUBY WEDDING RING, BY L. FRANK BAUM. (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) ALMA UISURRSY “Mademoiselle,” I said, haltingly, ‘I see but one alternative. You must marry me.” The violet eyes opened wide in surprise. “Marry you, monsieur?” “Then pursuit would be useless. Being my wife you would escape this villain who insists upon wedding you. able to give you all that would add to your hapriness, and I shall learn to love you very dearly. It is true that I am a stranger to you, but I assure you I am in all ways worthy to seek both your heart and your hand.” She gazed with earnest intentness into my face for a moment, and then replied slowly: “T think I shall trust you, monsieur. In- deed I cannot help myself. I will be your wife.” There was no coyness in her answer, no blush tinted the pale, beautiful face; but she drew herself up with an air of simple dignity that commanded my respect and admiration. “Then come,” I said, eagerly, ‘“‘we must lose no time. It will be midnight before we can hope to reach Danvers.”” “Not Danvers,” she replied, shrinking back as I sought to take her hand; “‘let us xo to Tregonne; there is a notary there who will marry us, and we are far safor from pursuit.” IS MY WEDDING DAY. rove through a lonely district until the dreamy influence of the night overcame me, and I drifted into a somnolent state mid- way between sleep and waking. I was aroused by the sudden halting of my horse, that gave a frightened snort, and planted both feet firmly before him. A subdued sobbing, as of a woman in dis- tress, feil upon my ears, and, leaning for- ward. I peered into the moonlight to dis- cover whence it came. ‘A high brick wall ran close to the road- way, covered with ivy and lichens, and Ieaning against an angle of this, a few steps before me. was a slight, girlish form, draped in a dark mantle. I sprang to the ground and softly ap- proached her. Her face was buried in her hands and she sobbed bitterly. “Mademoiselle,” 1 said, speaking in French, “you are in trouble. Can I assist you ia any way?” She lifted her head, and the moonlight fell upon the most beautiful face I have ever seen. Absolutely faultless in feature, it was surmounted by a crown of yellow hair that shore like gold in the glare of the moonbeams, while a pair of deep violet eyes that even tears could not dim looked I asked, gently, “and “Lt am and TI reside these gates.” Amelie de Boursons, monsieur, at the chateau just within ‘The sof ed to musical notes of her voice add- powerful exau ite beauty 1 already produced upon my_heaft. “But it is late, nued; “surely some at misfortune must have befallen you bring yo! s hour.” » replied, strug- ling with a m of grief, “to- morrew is m: The were THE HAND WAS “Very well,” I answered, “‘let us be off." Refusing my oroifered assistance, Mlle. de Bowrsons walked to the carriage and sprang lightly to the back seat. Rather awkwardly I took my place in froat, gath- ered up the reins and drove off as swiftly as I could induce the ancient steed to | move. Mad-+moiselle drew her mantle closely { over her head and shoulders, and only once during the long drive did she speak. Then | it was to direct me to the Tregonne road. With ample time for reflection, my ad- | venture now began to seem rather queer and uncarry, and by the time we discov- ered the lights of Tregonne twinkling be- fore us Tt had come to doubt the perfect wisdom of my present course. But it was too late to draw back now— and the girl was very beautiful. “This is the notary’s," said my compan- ion in her low, sweet voice, indicating by a gesture a rambling structure from whose windows gleamed a single light. I leap-d out, found the decor at the end cf a long pathway ard knocked upon it loudly. A tall, thin man, beyond the middle age, holding a tallow candie high above his head ,answered my call. ou are the notary?’ I asked, briefly. He nod-ied assent. ; ‘“L_wish to be marriqd.” | “Marriei!’ he echoed in surprise, | wh onsieur? ‘Now; at once. “But the bride, monsieur “I will fetch the bride. without.” I thought he intended to protest, so I left him abruptly and returned for the lady. She was already coming toward the house, and as I met her she motioned me to go before, while she followed silently up the pathway. ‘The rotary admitted us without cere- | mony, ord we entered a small, dimly- “but She ts waiting AS COLD AS ICE. “But is that so asked. It you but knew, monsieur,” she said, how vile and brutal is the maa they are forcing me to marry, you would willingly save me from my horrible fate!” She accompanied these words with an appealing look into my face, and then she dropred her head and sobbed anew. I did not stop to reason upon the strange- m of all this. 1 was a young, generous- hearted man in those days, and could not resist this appeal from beauty in distress. “But tell me,” I said, “how can I save you from this distasteful marriage? Do you wish to fly? I have a conveyance close by, end will gladly escort you to a place of safety.” “To fy would avail me nothing, swered with a sweet sadness; “they would follow us and force me to return.” “But how else can I save you?” I asked, helple “I do not know,” she replied, with a sud- Gen calaness that suggested despair. “But riless you can tind some way te succor me I shall take my own life. There was no doubt, from t expression of her low, earnest voice, that she meant this, and, Mlled with consternation at the thought, I racked my brains for some way to preserve both her life and happiness. At last an idea came to me, but I trem- Lied at my own presumption as I sug- gested It. terrible an event?” I Hghted room that My cotnpanion an arm-hair, but. muffiings from her ¥ ‘The notary snuffed the candle, arranged his bcoks, and turning to me with a pene- trating ‘ook, said: “I must know your name, monsieur.” “Richard Harrington.” “Your residence?” “1 am an American.” He wrote the answers in his book. Then, glancing toward the armchair, he con- tinued: “The lady's name?” I watte2 for her to reply, but as she re mained silent, I answered: “Amelie de Boursons.”* “\vhe?” ered the notary in a loud voice, springing to his feet, while a look of fear Pp coasternation spread over his wrinkled race. “Amelie de Boursons,” I repeated, slowly, infected by the man’s agitation in spite of myselt. ‘The notary stared wildly at the muffled form of the lady. Then he drew out his handkerchief and wiped the beads of per- spiration from his forehead. “What does this mean, monsieur?” I de- manded, angrily. Z ‘Tho man heeded me not the slightest, but clutching the edge of the table to steady himself, and extending his long, bony finger toward the girl, he exclaimed: to be a study. ted herself in removing the I am free and’ “Are you Amelie de Boursons?” Slowly, with admirable grace and dignity, the lady threw back her mantle, and her marvelous beauty was again revealed. The notary, with distended eyes fixed upon the vision, sank back in his chair with a low moan. “This must be explained, monsieur,” I erled, striding to his side and grasping his shoulder. “Js there any reason why I should not marry Mile. de Boursons?’” “Mademoiselle de Boursons,” returned the notary, still regarding her with horror, as beer dead these forty yeurs!”” “Dead!” I echoed, staring first at the notary and then at the girl, while a sense of bewilderment overcame me. Mile. de Boursons arose with a charming smile and came to my side. “See, monsieur,” ‘she exclaimed, mock- ingly, and giving me her hand, “do you also think me dead?” The hand was as cold as Ice, but its touch sent a strange thrill through my body. “Come, monsieur,” I said to the notary, who watched the scene in amazement, “read the ceremony at once. We are in haste.” Slowly and with trembling voice the no- tary obeyed, the girl at my side returning the answers in a sweet, collected voice that disarmed my fears and calmed to some extent the notary himself. I drew a seal ring from my finger and placed it upon her icy hand, and in its place she slipped a large ruby from her own hand upon mine. The ceremony concluded, I paid the notary, thanking him briefly for his serv- ices, and, followed by my bride, walked down the path to my carriage. The notary stood in the doorway lighting us with the candle. At the carriage I turned to hand my wife to her seat, but she had disappeared. I ran back to the doorway. “Where is my wife?” I asked. “She followed you down the path,” said the man. “But she is not thet Without a word the notary accompanied me back to the carrage. No trace of the girl was to be seen. Right and left amgngst the shrubbery I searched; I called aloud her name, en- treating her to come to me, but no signt of the beautiful face rewarded my ef- forts. I returned to the notary’s study filled with vague misgivin; “Where can she be?” I asked, dismally. “In her grave,” was the hoarse answer. “Monsieur!” | “I told you before that she was dead. It is true. You have wedded a ghost!" . . . ° * . The next morning, in company with the notary, I drove down the road "till we came to the brick wall where I had first seen Amelie de Boursons. We entered the gates and walked to the chateau that stood in the neglecte] grounds, An old woman admitted us, the car taker, and, at the notary’s request, allow- ed us to visit the gallery. The notary threw back the shutters and the sun came in and flooded the portrait of a beautiful girl, whose violet eyes re- garded me with the same sweet expvession I had noted in my bride of the previous evening. “It is Amelie de Boursons,” said the notary, in a gentle voice. “I have seen th: picture often, and heard the girl's pi story, and that is why I knew her last night to be a mere phantom. Her father was a stern, hard man, who insisted upon her marrying a person utterly distasteful to the young girl. She tried to escape, but was captured and brought home to confront her fate. On the wedding morn- ing they found her dead in her bed. She had taken her own life. That was forty years ago, monsieur!"” ‘As we left the room I glanced curiously at the ruby that sparkled on my finger. I wear it to this day. It is the only evidence I have ever pos- sessed of my phantom bride. KAFFIR IZINYANGA. Native Medicine Men and Herb Doc- tors and Their Strange Remedies. From the Pall Mall Gazette. The medical profession as pursued” by natives among their kin ts primitive, but in rest cases efficacious and lucrative, and, like several Kaffir customs and pro- cedures, 1s recognized within reasonable limits by the law of the land. In Natal native physicians are divided into two classes—medicine men and herbalists. The former, known to their fellows as “Iziny- anga so kwe lapa,” are especially proft cient in the healing art; while the latter, rejoicing in fhe name of “Izinyanga ze- meti,” effect their cures through the me- dium of herbs with medicinal properties, of which there are over 100 species in the cotony known to the natives. One of the most frequent cases with which a native dcctor has to deal is snake bite, ahd for this there are at least a dozen herbal anti- dotes, the chief of which is the root of the aster asper, a small plant somewhat like the daisy, with lilac-colored flowers. It has been used with success by hunters on their dogs when snake bitten, but the secret of the infallible remedy for the deadliest snake bite is said to have died with Cete- wayo, who had a gray powder which never failed to cure. Herbs for cattle diseases are plentiful, but so far none of them has stemmed the onslaughts of rinderpest. The isi-nwazi is a favorite remedy for “redwater” in cattle, and is also employed as an emetic. The umbelebele is very val- vable as an eye salve, and to !ts milky sap the late Sir Tkeophilus Shepstone was indebted for the preservation of a valuable horse, which had got some of the blinding juice of the euphorbia into its eye. The most popular plant, however, Is the u-mon- di, whose aromatic roots act as a very wholesome tonic. It is on the point of ex- tinction In the colony, and a large price is now paid for Its roots. When called in the doctor receives a fe, kuown as “ulugxa.” varying from three shillings to half a guinea, according to his standirg. Should a cure result a further fee is claimable, but failure to cure is un- rewarded by payment beyond the call fee. Every doctor has to take out a license to practice from the magistrate or adminis- trator of native law in the district, which must be favorably indorsed by ihe chief of his or her (for lady doctors have exist- ed from time immemorial among the Kaf- firs) kraal. For this license a payment of £3 1s made, and the holder is immediately removed from the list of practicing physi- cians if so rash as to sell, or profess to possess, love philters or charms to soothe the savage breast.- And in the code of na- tive law male and female diviners and other quacks, such as rain or lightning doctors, are expressly forbidden to practice the black art. Though practically extinct in the colony, the profession of dream doc- tor was in full swing in Zululand prior to the dethronement of Cetewayo, and they pretended to detect and “smell out” any one guilty of malpractices—a convenient methcd of doing away with awkward rela- tives and opponents. Chaka himself as- sumed the office of dream doctor, and in pursuit of his profession (2) on one occa- sion brutally murdered no fewer than 400 women, for mere lust of blood. His last words were in keeping with his assumed role of a diviner; for, as he expired at the hands of Dingaan’s assegais, he exclalm- ed: “You think you will rule this country when I am gone; but I see the white man coming and he wiil be your master.” —aaee CONTRACTOR’S SHREWD SCHEME. With a Hand Organ’s Aid His Men Worked Faster. Fiom London Tit-Bits. Standing in front of his uncompleted flat building a contractor uneasily watched the laborers as they slowly performed their work. The men who carried in the bricks and tiling from the street were especially annoying to him. They moved about at a sleepy and turtle-like pace, and did not ap- pear to be worried in the least when their slowness was the cause of delay on the in- side work. While he was watching them in disgust an Italian with a barrel organ halted just across the way and began grinding out a lively march. He had been playing for sev- eral minutes before the contractor observed the marvelous effect of the music on the men who were carrying the bricks. They came out of the building like circus horses in a grand entree, hurriedly filled their he and then marched back into the building at double quick, stepping high. The builder went across the street and gave the Italian a shilling, in return for which he played lively tunes for a half hour. During that half hour the laborers did a half day’s work. Next day the con- tractor ran across another Italian, and sent him over to the corner to play. And the laborers never discovered what a shab- by trick had been played upon them. sates aaa AFTER A DAY’S HARD WORK ‘Take Hersford’s Acid Phosphate. Tt maKes 9 delicious drink, and relieves fatigue and depression, A grateful toalc. CITY SHADE TREES Some Six MEASURES 0 REPAIR THE DAMAGES Chat Witk\Mr. Saunders of the Parking Commission. 85,000 LINE THE STREETS T HE RECENT HUR- Tieane which laid low nearly 6,000 shade trees Mning the streets of Washing- ton, only served to emphasize the fact that the national * capital is the best Yh shaded city on the American continent. After these *fallen trees had been cleared away, their absence ¢ created so small a gap in the forestry of the city’s streets as to be unnoticeable except to the residents temporarily deprived of the restless shadows of leafage in front of thelr own houses. To such individual householders the prospect from. the front windows of thelr homes the morning after the storm was, of course, a trifle bare, but, so dense is the shade tree foliage throughout the great majority of the streets of Washing- ton, that, after the wreckage of the blast- uprooted trees had been carted away, gen- erally speaking, the perambulating citizen couid not discover any apparent difference in the appearance of the city’s streets. The! is certainly no city in the United States—if, indeed, there,is such a city in the werld—that could stand, with so marvel- ously small a change in its aspect, the loss of six thousand shade trees upon its There are, in fact, a number of 3 in the United States several times size of Washington that have not as y as six thousand shade trees (exclu- of those in the vublic parks) within limits. A visitation lke that which swooped down upon Washington on the night of September 29 would have stripped such snade-deficient cities utterly bare of tkeir street foliage and made desolate and cant the general appearance of their roughfares. A t many citizens made moan on the ollowing the storm over the destruc- that had been rought among the trees, and predictions were common effect that the present generation f to the would be translated to a better and bright- er world long before the streets of Wash- ington umed their normal perfeetly- shaded appearance. ‘That these gloomy predictions were all astray is made clear in the statement to a Star reporter made by Mr. William Sdunders, the superintendent of the Departrrent of Agriculture’s gardens and grounds, ahd a member of the District parking commission, which has charge of the planting of shade trees along the Streets of the ¢ity. ‘To Repair, the Storm Damage. “The parking commission,” said Mr. Saun- ders, “will ask' this year for an extra ap- propriation of ,$10,000, in addition to the regular approprtation of $20,000 made an- nvally for carrying cn the work of planting shade trees oh'riewly made streets and re- placing dead og inutilated trees on the older streets. The réquest for this additional $10,000 i3,0f Course, to be based upon the damage inflicted“ upon the trees by the re- cent big gale, and I think there is hardly any question that the extra appropriation will be granted. If it is, every single tree that. was toppled over hy thé big wind storm will be replaced by the end of next spring with ‘a good-sized, healthy young tree from our nurseries. “Even ifthe extra appropriation is not made—a contingency scarcely to be con- sidered, as L-believe—the work of renewing the, destroyed trees will.go right on out of the regular appropriation, and _certaialy within @ year every yawning hole created by an uprooted tree will be filled by a lusty, rapidly growing young. spreader, capable of withstanding the tempests of many years.” The streets of the capital have not al- ways been so splendidly shaded as they are at present. Up to the early seventies, when Ex-Gov. Shepherd was placed in charge of the municipal destiny of Washington, they presented a bare and forlorn appearance nough. The only shade trees that lined the eets wore those planted by individual cit- izens in front of their own homes. The parking commission was organized as a bmanch of the board of public works, and it was not until then that the s; fematic p’anting of shade-trees under municipal di- rection began. The parking commission as- sumed control of all tree planting along the thoroughfares, and thus this duty was sat- isfactorily removed from the hands of citi- zens. At first, the commission was obliged to purchase all ef the trees thus planted from the nurseries of private owners, and tne work of giving the city a proper amount of shade during the heated terms of sum- mer went on with comparative slowness. But in 1873, at the suggestion of Mr. Saun- . who was a memwber of the original parking commission, and who has so served without remuneration ever since, the com- on acquired the eight-acre shade tree the Washington A Trees Now om Hand. This nursery has been maintained and improved for a quarter of a century, and nearly every shade tree now flourishing along the streets of Washington was raised from the seed within the boundaries of the eight-acre lot, the soil of which at the present time gives nourishment to about x) young trees, ready for transplanting —a number sufficient to replace almost three times over the trees destroyed by the big gale. Since the parking commission took charge of the work of providing shade for the streets of Washington about 85,000 trees have been planted. If all the shade trees set out on the streets of the capital during the past twenty-five years were placed twenty-five feet apart they would make a solid block of upward of 1,350 acres of forest. From 3,000 to 3 shade trees are planted along the streets every year. Of late years the rapid spread of the city, with the consequent making of new and the extension of old streets, has taxed the energies of Mr. Lenham, the superintend- ent of the parking commission, to the ut- n.cst in providing for the transplantation of shade trees from the District nursery to such newly blocked-out thoroughfares, but the work has been kept well up to date. The trouble has:not been in securing the requisite numberof trees, of which there is always a plentiful supply at the nursery, but in paying ‘for the necessary labor of transplantation-out of the meager annual appropriation fori'the purpose, which was only last year rgiged from $18,000 to $20,000, after remaining at the former figure for meny years. “With a permanent force of something jess, than thirty laborers the superintendent finds it exceedingly difficult to keep up with the work of tree planting in this. rapidly growing capital of the na- ticn. a; While the shade trees of Washington in- clude nearly all of the best-known varie- tles, experience has shown that compara- tively few of these varieties stand the nu- merous tests to. which time, weather and vegetation plagyes subject them, so that the parking commission now practically limits itself to the planting of seven kinds of shade trees, each of which has thor- oughly demonstrated its hardiness and staying qualities. The Carolina poplar, for instance, which was planted in great numbers at the be- ginning of the parking commission’s super- vision, on account of the rapidity with which’ it grows, has been given up for sev- eral years past. It was found that this tree, largely on account of its mushroom manner of growth, was peculiarly subject to quick decay after reaching maturity, and also proved an easy prey to the inroads of caterpillars. Moreover, notwithstanding its apparent strength and bulkiness, the Carolina poplar has invariably exhibited its relative weakness in being the first among the city’s shade trees to’ topple over under the minor fury of comparatively insignifi- cant wind storms. A considerable majority of the trees uprooted by the recent storm, | a8 was noticed by Mr. Saunders, were Car- olina poplars. For these reasons the plant- ing of shade trees of this family has been discontinued. The Approved Varieties. “Experience has taught the parking com- mussion,” said Mr. Saunders, “that of the many varieties of shade trees that have been tried upon the streets of Washing- ton, the seven varieties which have best stood the ordeal of time are the silver maple, the sugar maple, the American elm, the American linden, the tulip tree, the sycamore and the Norway maple. More silver maples are planted than any other kind, for it possesses most of the qualities required in a street tree. It is easily prop- agated, its growth is rapid and the tree is of upright habit unless thrown out of its normal shape by injudicious pruning, which frequently happens. The foliage is ample, but rarely so dense as to prevent a con- siderable circulation of air through its branches—a very desirable quality. It is comparatively free from insects, and holds its own well in comparatively poor soil when once fairly started in its permanent location. “We also plant a good many of the sugar maples. A trifle less hardy than the silver maple, the sugar maple is, in my opinion, the finest of all trees. Finely symmetrichl in contour, it has at all times a stately grace- fulness, and this is greatly enhanced by its peculiarity of supporting a massive top on a comparatively slender stem, For beauty and density of follage from early spring to late summer, for the great va- riety of brilliant tints and shades of color of the ripening leaves in autumn, it is un- equaled among trees. It is, besides, a cleanly tree, not subject to the attacks of insects. The only trouble with the sugar maple is that its massive habit of growth has a tendency to produce too dense shade or a street tree, a fault which we endeav- or to overcome by a constant thinning of their branches. “The American elm ts chiefly employed for the wide avenues, as it requires a good deal of space for its stately growth. As it attains age and size it acquires a certain degree of picturesque ramification in the disposition and general outline of its branches, some specimens assuming a drooping or pendent habit, while others stretch out freely, forming wide-spreading tops. Although we are still planting the American elm, its reputation has suffered a slight impairment within the past two years, on account of dts liability to injury from a singularly voracious leaf-eating beede which then made its appearance in this city. Vigorous and Beautifol. “On the wide avenues in the northwest section of the city we also plant consider- able numbers of the robust and lofty spreading American lindens. They require a good deal of attention, and, because they must have good soll and a wide feeding range to maintain health and vigor, a good deal of care is exercised as to where they are planted, lest they wither and die upon our hands. The American linden’s. fowers are exceedingly fragrant, end in the dis- tricts in which they are planted the air is beavy with this healthful odor during the springtime. “We are devoting a great deal of atten- tion to the cultivation of the tulip tree in the District nursery, and shall plant a great mary of them during the next few years. They are exceedingly beautiful snade trees, with the unique form of their leaves, their vivid green appearance in spring, their Lrilliant yellow coloring in fall, and the tulip-like formation of their flowers. In columnar massiveness, elegance of stem and general symmetry of development, the tulip tree belongs to the prize class “of shade trees, pressing the silver maple very closely in point of beauty. But it has the drawback of being rather difficult to trans- plant. Its roots are fleshy, and decay upon Leing severed or broken. It also demands the very best kind of soll. But the general excellence and beauty of the tree is ample compensation for the care which its foster- ing requires. “The sycamore, which fs the cheracteris- tie shade tree of Paris and other Europeaa cities, is planted occasionally by the park- ing commission, but it is found to be rather too large for general use. Its hardiness permits of its standing a good deal of city smoke, which iz not one of the drawbacks of Washington life. As a lofty tree the syc- amore is somewhat outclassed in this city by the American elm and the American linden. Sycamores are mostly planted here on the thinly settled suburban streets. “The Norway maple we are largely intro- ducing to supplant dead or uprooted trees on sireets where the shade is so ample that the deprivation for a few years of the shade of a single tree is not much of a hardship—for the Norway maple is of slow growth, although when it has attained its full size it is an admireble tree.” Too Closely Together. Besides the varities enumerated by Mr. Saunders as the best adapted for general use, the older streets of the city show occasional ash-leaved maples, the pyr- amidal Ginkgo, the sweet gum, the flower- clustered horse chestnut, and numerous kinds of oaks, but it is only rarely that trees of these varities are planted along the streets in these days. . Mr. Saunders says that up to a few years ago the mistake was made by the commis- sion of planting shade trees too closely to- gether, notwithstanding his own repeated protests against the practice. “A great number of the main residence streets of Washington, and notably 11th street,” said he to The Star man, “could easily stand the removal of every other tree, and yet he amply shaded. On many of such streets the shade trees are often | Shade be secured, ventilation will only eighteen or twenty feet apart. Trees of the largest size—such as lindens, elms, sycamores, silver maples and tulip trees— should be planted at least forty-five feet apart. The Norway maple and trees of similar even growth should not be set at a less distance than thirty-five feet apart. This is quite close enough for any kind of tree in the street, and these rules of dis- tance are now being observed by the com- mission. Such distances allow each tree rcem for expansion, and obviate the evils of too great a density of foliage and total exclusion of sun rays—evils which are apt to develop into intolerable nuisances, de- priving dwellings of the sanitary influences of light and air. Trees d Health. The most advanced sanitarians are not fully agreed as to whether trees in cities are injurious or “beneficial to. health. Mr. Saunders, who, besides knowing practical- ly a great deal of all there is to be known cor.cernirg things that grow in the ground, is versed in several other branches of learrirg, takes issue with the class of san- itarlans who hold that shade trees in cities incresse the death rate. “With reasonable care as to situation and distance,” said Mr. Saunders to The Star reporter, “it is impossible that shade trees can conduce to disease. The con- stant evaporation of moisture from the foliage of trees during dry sunny weather has a decidedly cooling effect upon the immediately surrounding space, and im- parts a baimy influence to an atmosphere rendered arid by contact with heated sur- faces of stone or brick. The water re. quired for their sustenance having to be absorbed from the soil, it is thus drained of much superfluous moisture, keeping the grovnd dry about foundations and cellar walls, and thus far contributing to the healthy surroundings of dwellings. “It is, of course, not advisable to have trees so clese as to form a constant shade on the house itself, as it is preferable that the sun should shine on the wails than that they be always shaded from its di- rect rays. The common belief that too much ehade around a dweiling is condu- clive to ague has been proven an error, for the best medical records assert that trees do not influence this malady in ar degree. Instances are common where dvellirgs heavily shaded by trees are free from the disease, while in the same neigh- borhood houses entirely destitute of the shade of trees are full of it. “I do not dispute, however, that un- healthy influences are induced and fos- tered in dwellings where proper ventilation is retarded by dense tree shade. Without heat, the primary factor in ventilation, there can be no appreciable movement in the atmosphere, and where the rays of the sun are intercepted by the foliage of trees this heaithful movement in the air is reduced to a minimum, so that damp- ness, with its accompaniment of a sickly atmosphere, pervades the cool overshaded dwelling. x “To prevent this trees should not be plant- ed at a less distance than thirty feet from a building. It should not be the purpose to shade dwellings, but 10 shade the x walks and promenades for pedestrians, and yet allow ample freedom for the admi of sun and wind on the street proper, as also on the surrounding spaces. Thus, while the cooling effects of foliage will pervade the atmosphere, and an enjoyable not be impaired.” Guards for Trees. Washington is the only city in the world which has adopted the woven-wire netting guards for street shade trees, to prevent their defacement by the nibbling of horses, and this guard has admirably proved its usefulness. The wire guards cost the co mission twenty-five cents apiece, but the money they save in the course of a year more than atones for the outlay. The com- mission does not take much stock in the wooden box guard, except as a support for young, newly-transplanted trees. “The wooden box,” said Mr. Saunders, “will support and control a young tree @ur- ing stcrms. For large trees it is worse than useless. The weight of the top of a good- sized tree, especially when the foliage is wet, will loosen the box and generally cause the destruction of the tree, which, in swaying over, breaks or draws up the stakes, carrying the box with it as it leans from the storm. “When the tree attempts to recover the rigidity of the box prevents its natural backward swaying, so that every fresh blast of wind bends it still farther, until it is eventually either broken or prostrated. Moreover, the wooden boxes furnish a refuge and a breeding place for insects— as, by the way, do the utterly useless and foolish bands of cotton which a good many citizens place around the trunks of their street trees, apparently ignorant of the fact that the leaf-destroying insects and caterpillars are hatched upon the branches and do not crawl up the trunks of trees fiom the ground.” Not Due to Pruning. Mr. Saunders scouts the idea advanced by some after the big storm that insuf- cient pruning of the trees rendered them such an easy prey to the wind. “The worst treatment that street trees can réceive,” says he, “is to cut their tops, ‘heading down,’ as it is termed. This prac- tice is too prevalent in several nearby large cities. It is a kind of butchery from which many palpable evils result. In the first place, it is a heavy blow to the vitality of the tree, and greatly mars its beauty and usefulness for all time. Jt causes a thick, hedge-like growth of young shoots, which have to be removed, involving further prun- ing, otherwise a dense growth, the very reverse of what is desirable, will endanger From Life. A POLITICAL MEETING. Gladness Comes ith a better understanding of the transient nature of the many phys- ical ills, which vanish before proper ef- forts—gentle efforts—pleasant efforts— rightly directed. There is comfort im the knowledge, that so many forms of sickness are not due to any actual dis- ease, but simply to a constipated condi- tion of the system, which the pleasant family laxative, Syrup of Figs, prompt ly removes. That is why it is the on] remedy with millionsof families, andis everywhere esteemed so highly by all who value as health. Its beneficial effects are due to the fact, thatdtis the one remedy which. promotes internal cleanliness without debiliteting the organs on which it acts. It is therefore all important, in order to get its bene» ficial effects, to note when you pure chase, that you have the genuine art® cle, which is manufactured by the Cali- fornia Fig Syrup Co. only and sold by all reputable druggists. If in the enjoyment of good health, and the system is regular, laxatives or other remedies are then not needed. If afflicted with any actual diseas mzy be commended to the most skil! physicians, but if in need of a laxative, one should have the best, and with (he well-informed everywhere, Syrup of Figsstands highest and is most largely used and gives most general satisfaction, the tree during storms, because of its nsity, the solid mass of heavy leaves pre- senting an impenetrable surface to the wind. ‘The topping tends to the destrue- tion of many roots, rendering the prostra- tion of the tree by wind an exceedingly simple matter. —_— AUTUMN AND ROSES. ons of Worth the Welcome F a the Baltimore American Now is the time that thi vator of garden roses beg Some Sugeest Cultivation « Fr suc H to look ou his supply for another year. Having his summer blessed with their deiij bloom and fragrance, he does not now his back upon the generous bu! tinues to extend to them the same ¢ was given through their yielding The ground around them must not ne more than then, be allowed to becom and dry, but by frequent hoeing and occa- jonsl watering should t pt light, soft and damp until the arrives to protect their rvots for the winter. Although a Light sandy soil is most favorable to the growth of r it should every autumn be ed over with a good fertilizer, the food plant from cows being preferred to any other, ‘and in selecting this great care should be taken that it is sufficiently mature, as a green fomentation is likely to ensue, which is death to the plant But it is not enough to protect merely the roots of the plart. A great lover of roses, who has been cultivating them successfully for thirty years, tells me that every autumm he cuts long branches from cedar, pine or other evergreeen, and sticks them in the ground around and between the bushes, where they serve to perfectly protect their more delicate kindred from the cold winds of winter. This is the more necessary as in choosing a site for a rose garden one should take care to command as open and exposed a space as possible, so that during the summer the plants may receive their full abundance of sun and rain, wind and jew. Just before budding time in the spring the fertilizer which has lain on the ground during the winter should be thoroughly hoed into the soil, and two-thirds of the previous year’s growth should be ruthlessly cut, together with all dead branches. Noth- ing less than this severe cutting process will perpetuate the life and vigor of the plant. In selecting plants for a country rose car- den one cannot possibly do better than to choose that atleast a fourth of them shall be of a Jacqueminot var.ety. They are the hardiest, the most prolific, the most fra- grant and in every way the most satisfac- tory roses that one can cultivate. The rose iover, whom I have here previ- ously quoted, has a rose bush of this variety now thirty years old, and during all these years it has not {ailed to put forth its love- ly blossoms at the rate of one hundred and fifty to two hundred a season. In addition to the fertilizer already men- tioned, bone and powdered charcoal have both been used on the soil for this magnifi- cent plant, the latter's special office being to preserve and deepen the tint of the rose.