Evening Star Newspaper, April 7, 1900, Page 23

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1900-24 PAGES. = BIRD LIFE ON THE PACIFIC THE PATIENT PELICAN AND THE HIGHWAYSMAN GULL. Tameness of Seme of the Ocean Bipeds ix Remarkable—( Grace- fal Bait-Perloiner. on an espectil in- © birds which fleck t with pelicans, guils ae < fing the cormo- over the water in eamer starts nd daily a yellow-bi any her th irty miles. The eater part of the time, = th the mene by battling with on for a peint of vantage on the gilt balls which unt the masts of the rolling steam On this trip across the channel the voy- ager obtains a gtimpse of various water birds which make their winter hom ifornia, =ome of which are rarely <¢ the 1ze bird lover. Perhaps thi conspicueus bird is the Californi pelican. which flies along just at face. its = held rigid. It is a ludicrous bird s long beak projecting for- ward The flight of the pelican and graceful a tong a water. When it fe rty or f feet The bird then files rapi nz down at th ind wil tisay ath the sur aimost . Wageing iis diminutive (ail. fish are in the big pouch, and now tos beak upward to fish down its throat. The very of its success is metimes that of . One of the white-he t on the higher: ay yver about been a quiet ob- he ns capture. It now t tter’s back, and at the su- h and while the continue: pelicans mo large flocks in winter. The sum- ation of the birds was somethi sry to the writer until he visited nd, the most Sarbara group. The south point of the y black with pe a cloud when t fired. They soared about and then settled again. me of the ocean birds remarkable, as well man. in } brings in his fish and cleans them on the beach, and this is an open invitation for the gulls, w approach within a few feet of the fisherma sht for the rejectamenta of eateh, Is they are, with At night they Ss and ar me are son t they at time —this being e They float gr. ally th ad beneath i on of the food supply; then be seen again darting here ¢ rushing into a school of the small fry or rom it to course along the sandy thirty feet or so below. f the most attractive birds of this ty the tam . is th igeon one on fishermen arsh and f lost bait in an incompre- nally a little bird was wharf making way with ame so tame that yn of throwing out the line would come ni bird bene f the sea birds, it w; ound. S unable to fly from the water and t loon or corm ppears the re raceful flight, swallow-like wings entour suggest a higher type t gulls. its cousins. The terns plung diong from aloft and splash into E of little fish. In drifting along shores of the island In 3 ber the n opportunity rv had teh the re- Mmarkable fight and ac s of one of the divin a dark, almost black er swallow-like down near the sur- w rising high in air with most otion. The water was perfectly snd the bird came flying along until twenty or thirty feet of the boat When it literally flew into the water ait. It was not a dive, but a beneath the surface it used tenuated wings to propel it with d.. The bird ap nk the fishermen of feeding It, as it r: bait. peated- eee Mackerel Feeding. ved the privilege of seeing an mackerel successfully roa ef small fry in a rocky shallow pool a eul de sac. The mackerel swam behind thelr victims in serried ranks mpany of hungry, determined creat- nt upon a gorging feast to which col was & there need be no limit. They had followed the fry for miles maybe, merely swallow- Ing oni there to keep their ar them w w they had cornered s no escape for their alert fisherman, on the look- for just such an opportunity, Oi convert their triumph and f nto captivity and lamentation—the feast at will. And. ye gods, feast they did! b feasting is ue. Opening his mouth wide, the mack- darts In among the small fry, some of perhaps one-third of his own In an f ant one of ese ig to sticking half in and half out of h. Then the mackerel gives one 1 the victim has disappeared. & moment's delay the process is and repeated so many times that ator cannot fail to be concerned immediate future of the particular ckerel he has watched. Yet nothing op As for the fry, their helpless ngutsh is somewhat heartrending; the whole shoal of them boils and churns the in an agony of fear; high Into the ap, in order to avold thelr vora- mies, landing themselves, often n the weed-covered rocks which the pool, and panting their lives out rather than leap back into the seeth- mass of their harassed companions be- eath. ——__+e-+— The Delightful Cockatoo. abil. Nght chain securely fastened on the ec o's leg promised safety, but he con- trived to get within reach of my new cur- tains and rapidly devoured some half yard or so of a hand-painted border which was the pride of my heart. Then came an in- terval of calm and exemplary behavior Which lulled me into a false security. Cockte med to have but one object in life. which was to pull out all his own feathers, and by evening the dining room often looked as though a white fowl had Been plucked tn ft. I consulted a bird doe- tor, but as Cockie's health was perfectly good, and his diet all that could be recom- mended, it was supposed he only plucked Bimself for want of occupation, and fire- Wood was recommended as a ‘substitute. ‘This answered very well, and he spent his leisure in gnawing sticks of deal —only When no one chanced to be in the room he used to unfasten the swivel of his chain, leave it dangling on the stand, and de- scend in search of his playthings. When the fire had not been lighted I often found half the coals pulled out of the grate, and the firewood in splinters. At last, ' with “warmer weather, both coals and wood were remuved, so the next time Master Cockie found himself short of a job he set to work on the dining room chatrs, first pulled out all their bright nails, and next tore holes im the leather, through which he trfumph- antly dragged the stuffing. At one time he went on a visit for some A veeks and ate up everything within his Teach in that friendly establishment. His “bag” for one afternoon consisted of a ven- erable fern and a large palm, some . brary books, newspapers, a pack of cards and an armehair. And yet every one adores nim, and he is the spoiled child of more than one family. i ~s00 THE IDEAL AUTOMOBILE. Endurance and ties Named. Low Cost, Durabilit Speed the Qua From the entific American. The automobile has been sufficiently long our midst to enable us to define the es- ential qualities which go to make up an ai machine. Naming them in their order are as follows: Low cost, durability, endurance (large fuel supply), ability to climb hilis and speed. Low cost is given the first place for the on that the present price of the auto- mobile pla it altogether beyond the means of the average individual, and ren- ders it a very decided luxury. It is certain that cheapening the cost will produce a proportionate increase in the demand, and the increased demond will lead in tts turn to a reduction in the price. ‘This was con- clusively proved in the history of the bi- the cost of a first-class machine to- being about one-quarter what it was few years ago, when the number of riders = limited. sz But while the ideal automobile must be cheap, the reduction in price must not be ained at the expense of sound materials and good workmanship. However great may be the demand for a low-priced ma- ch our manufacturers must never at- tempt to meet it by making a short cut by the way of showy but inferior construc- tion. The folly of such a method was dem- onstrated very conclusively when the bi- eyele wa ight of its popularity. cost and durability we of the automobile; by its c: large mileage without 1 tanks. Liberal fue strong recommendation to the biey- who has been accustomed to rove all long-dis xcursions with the ge that he Is not tled to particular places, or liable to be hopeles alled’ by a coilapse of his motive po in c ne-Way or unexpected pla n view of the fact that the steam-driven stomobile < wn such superior hill- climbing pe certain that the ap- petite ig thus whetted opping will dem e tomobile shall be able to negotiate any hill that it may encounter in the course of an extended tour. It must be able to carry its occupant through for we tri pl f need be, a mountainous countr: have a precedent In the successful up Mount Washington recently accom- by a builder in one of his own m chines. The records for hill-climbing are at present held by m-driven motor: and it will be a fortunate day for the an mobilists when builders succeed in combin- ing with the cheap cost of operation of the 8 ‘opelled type the hill-climbing powers st competitor. ng speed at the bottom of the Ist seem to be making too Httle of a of the automobile which many of riding public believe should receive the x tien: but. matter of fact. every type of automobile that is now on the market is capable of running at a higher el than the law allo Although a twenty miles an hour or more is no doubt frequently accomplished on the pub- Hie roi there is no question that the rapid increase in the number of riders in the future will lead to a restriction of speed to a maximum of twelve or fourteen miles an hour. Se SS, Early Lamps From Chambers’ Journal. It would be hai the first wick con d of; but whan we come to consider the iron lamp or “‘cruste” we know that the wick commonly used was the pitch of the rush, which gath- ered and partially stripped of its outer green covering. cut into proper lengths, dried, and tied up into bundles, ready for use. The iron lamp was hammered out of one piece wings, to all | f iron, in a stene mold. This was usually ‘as when in the air, | done by the blacksmith, and the molds are with gre ocity, and saw ob- | Still to be se>n in.museums, in the hands of ath the a long distance | private collecte and no doubt at some of Finally it was aught and, like | the country blacksmith: They are of one uniform shape, with some slight va- rietfes. The lamp cons ‘0 cups, one suspended above and inside the other. The suspender is so fixed and notched as to en- able the upper cup, which holds the of] and wick, to be shifted to keep the ofl constant- ly in contact with the wick. Th> lower cup catch » drip of the oil, which can be easily replaced In the upper cup by lifting it until the oil is poured into it. The upper cup has sometimes a movable lid. Ther> remarkable resemblance not only between the iron crusies in this coun- try, but to those on the continent and in vpt. They preserve shape, but dufer tn the which they are made. lamps, or at least some described as three crusi in one. The cup of the lamp is the same, but {ft has pro- vision for three lights. The oil us Scotch lamps was of the the west coast the ofl us fish oil. The ma: able. the sami ater The Pompelan them, might be 2 general and is still, rial for wicks was varl- ——_+e+___ Spring-Time, Spring. with that nameless pathos in the afr t dwells with all things falr— Spring. with her golden suns and silver rain, Is with us once again. In the deep heart of every forest tree ‘The blowt is all a-glee; And there's a Took about the leafless bowers As if they dreamed of flowers! Yet still on every side we trace the hand Of winter ip the land, Save Where the maple reddens on the lewn, Flushed by the season's dawn; Or where, like those strange semblances we find ‘That age Tdhood bind, The elu as if in Nature's scorn, ‘the brown of autumn corn, Kk, although you know: As yet the turf ts 4: hat, net a span be ad Zerms are “ping to the light, will glad the sight. here and there, on frallest stems Appear some azure gems, Small as might deck, upon a gala day, ‘The forebead of a fay. In gardens you may see, amld the de ‘The crocus earth And, near the snowdrop's ‘The violet in its screen. rth, ender white and green, Bat many gleams and shadows need must pass Along the budding grass, And weeks go by before the enamored south Shall kiss the rose’s mouth. Sul, there's a sense of blossoms yet unborm Tn the sweet alns of morn: One almost looks to find the very street Grow purple at his feet. At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by, And brings—you know not why— A feeling ax eager crowds await Before a palace gate, Some wondrous pageant; and you scarce would start from a beech’s heart Ab ed dryad, stepping forth, should say, “Bebold me, I am'May. —HENRY TIMROD, eo Life. From the Philadelphia Press. One says that life's a game of whist, Where players bold and players shy Make diamoncs trumps down all the list Of bands. howe’er the deal go by; ‘The schemer wins, they say, but 'T Care not a deuce for long-suit arts, A fig for knavish bowers! Why, I tind life but a game of Hearts. fe's poker,"" others will insist, “It matters not bow you may try, Knowledge and skill are never missed— Luck and bluff are the things.” A Hel A word, a look, a smile, a sigh, Wl win'a Jackpot. Cupid's darts Make all the chips. But poker? Flet I find life but a game of Hearts. Old Omar calied tt chess, but histt He found it wimpler, by the by, When maidens wanted to be kissed, Or ardent syes cajoled reply, Why any more the fact dei Though each wan plays thousand parts, Yet cach is molded by one dle; T find life but a game of Hearts, Princess, though pessimists decry Love's wound, because, forsooth, it smarts, Heed thou them not; though stakes be high,” I find Ife but a game of Hearts. ——- see How They Fixed It. From Punch. As thro’ the Strand at eve we went, ‘The Strategist and I, We taught the generais their trade, We threw Von Moltke In the shade, We knew the feasea, w © Dlexsings om the good conceit ‘That bever need be shy, ‘That could each difficulty meet And every peril spy. For when we came to Charing Cross, And weuld have passed thereby, A Brompton "bus we did not sce Game at us—bang! And where were we? AN INTERESTING INDUSTRY THE ART OF PREPARING DIAMONDS FOR THE JEWELER. Rough Stones With Flaws Split Into Flawless Ones—Polishing the Most Important Process. From the Golden Penny. Among the many indusiries ‘of Amster- dam one of the most interesting as well as the most important is that of diamond cut- ting and polishing. Taough an unknown until the fifteenth century, it has since ar that time flourished greatly, until now at the present day there are no less than -two firms registered 2s diamond com- panies in this great city. Wishing to see and study the practical working of this Industry, we decided to pay a visit to a factory. 5 Here 350 to 400 workmen are constantly employed, most of them in the delicate work of diamond polishing. When the diamonds arrive first in Am- sterdam they are In the same rough uncut state as they were when found in the South African mines. Before reaching their highly polished state they have to pass through three separate and distinct pro- cesses—the processes of diamond splitting, diamond cutting and diamond polishing—and when these are accomplished the stones are ready for the jeweler. The first process consists simply in splii ting the rough diamonds (containing flaws) into several pure flawless ones, and in this employed. ops, where we found three men engaged In litting monds as they sat at a small table, on ich fell the light from two window: of the men talked English exceedingly . and gave us ma resting details particular proc in which no m; ry is used. Pulling open a small drawer in the wooden table he showed us beautiful uncut diamonds, all still in the rough te. Then we watched the actual “splitting” process itself. At first sight it looks a simpie one, but we soon discovered that it needs great skill on the part of the workmen. A small wood tool is held In the left hand into which a rough diamond has been firmly “waxed” at the top. Pieces of the wax-like cement lie conveniently near on the table, and as a gas jet is alway ing there, the nece y heat is easily sup- plied. In the right hind of the workman a similar tool held, the top consisting 2 of a diamond, which later on is to act as a knife in splitting the rough dia- mond held in the other hard. Probably most of my readers know that nothing but a diamond will cut a diamond, and so the diamond is extensivel ployed in all the diamond-cutting f¢ in Amsterdam. A stone of 100 carats ¢ be spilt in fifteen minutes by skillfull pressing one diamond against the other on the spot where a flaw occurs, the ¢ mond in the right nd being used as knife. Where a tlaw occurs a split soon takes place, and the diamond divides into two stones. ould there be another flaw in either of these the operation is again repeated, until several pure, flawless ¢ monds lie on the rough wooden tab! the first process is successfully plished. The second process, that of diamond cut- tng, is also performed without v.e aid of Machinery, except in the case of the largor ones. It was interesting to find that all the work of diamond cutting is performed by Dutch women and girls. Twenty wo- men are employed for eight hours ever day, from 8 a.m. until 12, and then aga'n from 2 p.m. until 6. Their wages vay from $5 to $7 a week, and they certain’, look a most respectable and capable set of workwomen. n y Tt is wonderful to think of the many thousands of diamonds that annuaily pi through their hands. In one year alone 400,000 have been cut in this one factory. Diamond splitting and diamond cutting look somewhat alike, as the tools are very milar, but in reality the process Is not the same, the great difference being that pressure is used in the first instance al- Ways on the same spot, with the idea of causing the diamond to split into two stones: while in the other case it is used equally on every part of the diamond, in order to give it simply a round shape. "To gain this roundness fs, therefore, the one leading idea of diamond cutting. As the diamonds are cut a fine dust falls from them into a wooden box on the table, and this powder is most carefully preserved. a3 it is used largely in diamond polishing when mixed with oll. All the diamonds to be cut are given to the women in small packets, each packet having the number and size of the dia- monds ft contains written plainly on the outside. After having once received these packets the women are responsible for their contents. The work of diamond cutting is particu- larly hard and very trying to the eyes some of the diamonds are so small S00 of them only weigh one carat! The time that a diamond takes to cut depends very much on its size; a large one weigh- ing ten carats usually takes from three to four hours, whil> the smaller ones take much less time. The third process, that of diamond polish- ing, is an important and lengthy one. There are ten large rooms in the factory entirely devoted to this work, a work, too, in which machinery plays a large and im- portant part. ‘Phree hundred and. fifty men are here constantly employed in pol- ishing annually thousands of diamonds. The skilled workmen sit at long, narrow tables with thelr backs to ths windows, having in front of them the small iron wheels which revolve with such terrible rapidity when set in motion by the great engine. Facing the windows stand appren- tices and less skill>d workmen, whose work is to receive the diamonds from the cutting rooms and solder them (by ald of the gas Jet) into the top of the small pear-shaped tools of varlous sizes, these tools being composed of lad and tin. The diamond-tipped tools then pass into the hands of the skilled workmen, who, be- fore fastening them firmly into frames which stand in close proximity to the wheels, dip each diamond into a mixture of oll and diamond dust. This is a most im- portant part of the process, for by means of th grains of dust the polishing 1s done. Pour of these tools containing dia- monds are then placed in position near the wheel (four can be po'ished at once) and with a quick movement of the hand the iron disks are set fn motion. The wheels revolve 1,500 times in a minute, and the dla- mond is polished on one particular side by means of the constant friction on it of the grains of diamond dust. As the object of diamond cutting Is sim- ply to make the stone a round one, so the object of diamond polishing is to give the diamond the many ‘sides’ (to use a tech- nical expression) considered necessary by the jeweler before it is ready for setting. Great skill is needed in this work, for each stone has to be resoldered a great many times onto the top of the pear-shaped tools and placed again and again in connec- tion with the revolving wheels in order to Produce these “sides.” ——-. The Abyssinian. H. W. Blundell to the Geographical Journal, The Abyssinian fs pretentious and domt- neering to his Inferiors, yet cringing and obsequious to his superiors. His business being that of a soldier, he {s more or less, though at times energetic, a lazy individual; he, though not a trader, is willing to take service as mule driver and caravan help, but will always shorten his day’s work as much as he can. His inseparable compan- ions are his rifle, cartridge belt and sword. The first is often of a most antiquated pat- tern, which, even when mule driving and performing long marches, remains with him, carried over his shoulder. His sword is strapped tightly to his waist, and is a characteristic one, being short, very much curved (cimeter-like), but narrowing to a sharp point; it is worn on the right side, and thus, when mounting a mule or horse, he always does so on the right, or off side. Besides these Weapons, he uses tn warfare a large, round, basin-shaped, embossed leather shield, often ornamented with silver worl He boasts of being a Christian, but the os he professes is only in evidence in the Sooying of feast and fast, though a few, very few comparatively, attend church on early Sunday mornings, in response to the call of a doleful, cracked-pot sounding, tolling bell: and a few also wear rosaries, though I never saw one being used. These rosaries have forty-one beads, said to be symbolical of the number of stripes our Lord received when scourged. Whatever is the cause, the Abyssinian has deteriorated, for apparently he is a much worse liar, thief and cheat than his neighbors about bis borders. —— MILITARY LIFE, IN ALASKA, Weather Cold and, Mercury Retiring, But Conditions Not Whoily Ba From the Army and Navy’Sournal. The government having at last expended considerable sums of/money toward estab- Lshing military posta jn Alaska, it is rea- sonable to suppose that the army must in the future look forwa?a to regular details of service in that part°of our country. As service in high latitydés is new to most of us, and as the hardships of Arctic life have been so much exaggerated, I shall presume to give to’ my fellow-oificers the benefit of a year's experience ob the Yukon, with the expectation that it may be of use to them. It certainly does get cold in Alaska. The thermometer for five €onsecutive days in January registered 68. 62, 65, 68, 62, while 40 below is quite common, and cold weather lasts from November 1 to March 31. Sub- stantial quarters have been constructed at Forts Egbert, Gibbon and Cape Nome, and the post at St. Michael will be built during the coming summer. An officer coming to Alaska need fear no greater hardships for himself and family than those which follow a return to the isolation of a one or two company frontier post. A well-stocked subsistence depart- ment furnishes all the necessaries of life, and most of the luxuries. Fresh meat has thus far been brought in in abundance in the form of moose and caribou. Potatoes and onions freeze solid in November, and, if properly prepared, are as good as fresh Veg- etables until they thaw in the spring. All the early vegetables like radishes, lettuce, onions, parsley, &c., come to perfection in August. It 1s dry, and ordinarily still, though a hard wind at 40 Below is not un- heard of. The snow falls gradually—an inch or so at a time-~and never melts until the April sun and rain Wear it away. In May the ground is free from snow, rains con- tinue, gardens may be prepared, and about the 15th the ice in the river breaks up and floats off to the sea. Near the end of May Steamers that have wintered in some trib- utary of the Yukon come up the river on their way to Dawson. Steamers from St. Michael. bringing passengers from the states, do not come up the river until about July 1 to 15 From June to October people require about the same clothing they would wear in the states. Mosquitoes abound, and window reens and mosquito bars are a necessity. Mail is received twice per month through: out the year, except in fall and sprinyy when ice is forming on the streams, or breaking up before navigation opens, Uniess new ar- rangements are perfected, second- mail is not delivered after navigation via St. Michael cioses. Arrangements must be made with friends to forward envelopes of clippings If one desires (9 keep up with the news. A telegraph onnects Skaguay with Dawson, but I received one telegram from Washington that was just a month on the way. As to clothing. heavy underwear is indis- pensable. In addition to these garments, heavy short coats or Wraps must be pro- vided to put on whenever it is necessary to go out of doors. The government furnishes rllent foot- caps and mittens and most ex gear in the form of felt shoes, find a fur parki the best all garment. One can be purchased Francisco for $12. The felt shoe cannot be improved upon. It is not necessary to re- main within doors during the cold weather unless the wind is blowmg. The ordinary routine of a post goes on without regard to temperature. and all oan take ex- ercise at any time without fer of frost Bring plenty of books and gaimes for ig winter evenings. As the quarter- master’s department wlilsloudtless construe this as service across the seas, bring all your furniture. Nothing! ¢: obtained in the country except'nt pro pri To sum up, I would sax’ that Alaska Is no than Keogh Sr AsSinniboine, and the st trial will be the jack of a dally gre paper. The Musical Mouse. ribner's, From s Any cowboy on the upiand plains will tell you that at night, when sleeping out, he has often heard the riost ¢urious strains of birdy music in his kalf gawakening hours — a soft, sweet, twittering song, with trlils and deeper notes, and if he thought about it at all, he set tt down to some small bird singing In Its dreams, or accepted his com- rade's unexplanatory explanation that it Was one of chose “prairie nightingales” Rut what that was he didn't trouble himself to know. I have often heard the strange night Song. but not being able to trace it home, I set it down to some little bird that was too happy to express it all in daylight hours. A Several times at night I overheard from my captive a long-drawn note, before {t dawned on me that this was the same voice as that that often sings to the rising moon. I did not hear him really sing, I am sorry to say. I have no final proof. My captive Was not seeking to amuse me. Indeed, his attitude toward me from first to last was one of unbending scorn. I can only say I think (and hope) that it was the same voice. But my allegiance fs due to scant science. Oh! why didn’t [ take the other trail? for then I should have been able to announce here, as now I do not dare to, that the sweat night singer of the plains and the plush-clad fairy that nightly danced about my door are the same. ee Snake Charmin, From the Fortnightly Review. Snake charming, the genuine as well as the fictitious, has a certain fascination for all who visit the east, from the first intro- duction of the tourist to fangless cobras aboard their steamer at Aden or Colombo to the more attractive exhibitions on shore. But the men, after all, who handle these reptiles, even possessed of their lethal ap- paratus intact, are accustomed to the traf- fic, often fortified, as I have seen them in southern Morocco, by strong religious belief in their own immunity. The younger gen- eration of Moorish Aissawa (as the sect 1s called that affects these pursuits) may per- chance add the precaution of a cautery and a morsel of ambergris, but their fathers have faith alone in Incantation to their pa- tron saint. Snake handling, however, by white women, such as one sometimes ‘sees on the continent, is at any rate merely dis- gusting, unless the snakes be of small and harmless kinds. The dealings between snakes and ladies date back to a painful story of common interest, but they should be suppressed on the modern stage. Even the larger boas, to which, {f the pictorial evidence has any value, the first historic serpent belonged, can strangle one almost ina moment. A large Australlan python of my own once coiled itself about my neck while I was attending to its box, on board ship, and it was some moments before, with the aid of a steward, I could unwind the living rope. ————+o+—__—_ A Big Kentucky Oak. From the Breckinridge News. J. P. Harl of Barrett's Ferry, near Fords- ville, cut from his farm one white oak tree that measured ninety inches across the stump. He got forty-eight feet of trunk which he made into saw, logs and floated to Evansville. He paid a esnbor who owned a log wagon $25 teghaul the tree one-half mile on level ground® to Rough river. It took elght horses to haul it, one cut at a time, each cut being about twelve feet long. A nine-foot saw wa; chased in Owens- boro’ by Mr. Harlfto fell this monstrous oak. There would!have been about sixty feet of trunk instéad forty-eight feet, but the top saw logswag. ruined on account of splitting when the massive top struck the ground. “ Firedamp Explodes on a Steamer. From Industries and Iron. While the steamer Oliva, with 2,000 tons of Welsh coal fron¥ Newport, Wales, was discharging at Bordeaux last week, a re- markable explosion, pf fyredamp took place, by which seven of the men were badly in- jJured. The force of the explosion was very great, and damaged the ship extensively. The men were taken to the hospital. The firedamp Is stated to have accumulated in the water ballast, there being a connection between that and the coal punkers. This is supposed to be the first accident of the kind attributed to this cause, and constitutes a danger to be guarded against. << Primitive but Straightforward. From the Indianapolis Press. “I don’t believe," said the young man, “that any man even courted a woman with- out telling her les."* “There was such courtship once,” said the middle-aged man. “When you were young?” “Huh! I'm young yet. I meant back in the early days of the race. In those days, you know, when a man loved a woman, he sneaked up and knocked her out with a club and took her to his lonely home, and they lived happy ever after.” MODERN METHODS AND APPLIANCES AT GREEN BAY, N. F. The Popular Idea With Regard td the Industry is Rather Apt to Be Erroneous. From the New York Times. Most persons think of whaling as an in- dustry pursued with a bluff-bowed old ves- sel beating her way round the world, manned by New England farmers and the refuse of crimps’ lodging houses, and at- tacking the leviathans of the deep in frail boats with harpoons and lances. Nothing could be more at variance with the modern method of whale hunting, for science has enlisted in the pursuit the most efficient as well as most destructive of accessories, and the killing of the cetacea has been trans- formed from an adventurous pursuit, abounding In excitement and heirbreadth escapes, into a matter-of-fact, every day business undertaking. Whaling in Green bay illustrates these new conditions. A specially built, stanch, stout and swift little steamer prosecutes the fishery, replacing the old-time boats and rowers. She carries on her forecastle the weapon with which she does battle—a pow- erful cannon, which fires a projectile capa- ble of destroying the largest leviathan in these waters. This gun ejects a large iron harpoon, with cross-arms, which lie against the shaft until it strikes a solid body, and then project out and imbed themselves. ‘The head of this harpoon is formed of the foregoing projectile, which is cigar-shaped and sharp-pointed, and explodes as it pierces the whale’s side, generating a gas which serves to Keep the fish afloat after the wrecking effect of the shock on its in- ternal organs has left it a lifeless mass. A stout rope is attached to the butt of the har- poon, and by this the whale is kept in leash as it thrashes madly through the water in a vain effort to escape its unknown enemy. Death rapidly ensues, unless, as sometimes happens, the projectile goes through the fish from side to side, and a second shot is then necessary. But, though the ship m: have to tire a second shot, in no instance has a whale, once struck by the harpoon, escaped the hunters, The whaling steamer Cabot is powerfully engined, makes thirteen knots, and, on oc casion, can hold her own when a huge fin- back, frenzied with pain, seeks to drag her off toward the ocean. The practice with the whalemen is that as soon as a fish is struck the engines are shut off and the Whule is allowed to career along on its way tor ig the steamer after her. This soon austs the whale, which then comes to urface, and here its death flurry takes Very rarely one of them Will at- tempt an attack on the boat, though, as a rule, they are too terrified to approach the strange object which plows so rapidly through the water. but when any such men- ace is aitempted, the quick handling of the steamer and the discharge of a second har- poon will soon put the infuriated animal out of the fight, and drag his carcass into the factory at Snovk’s Arm, where the manu- facture of the oil and the cleaning of the whalebone are undertaken. This form of whale fishing originated in Norway, where It has been pursued for many years with conspicuous success. Sev- eral companies are engaged in it at various points on the Norwegian coast, and very jJarge profits are made, so plentiful are the fish, and so readily are they captured. It was then extended to Iceland, where it proved equally successful, and thence it Was established in Newfoundland. In those days the dead whale was hauled into the beach at high water, and the fat was taken off at low tide. again the car yas turned over, and later the process was repeated, until the whole operation was completed. This made it im When the water was high ss ssible to t Snook’s Arm there is now a Dp or sloping platform, running out into the water, and by means of this the fish are hoisted up high and dry and the remoyal of the “blanket” or oil-bearing outer cover- ing 1s possible without any Cessation, the scientific observer having at the same time an unrivaled opportunity for his work. ‘The industry was only set on foot in this {sland in the spring of 1898, and for that season the Cabot killed ninety-one whales many of which, however, were only small ones. This year the total has reached ninety-eight, the average size being mucn Greater. It might be thought that such killing would soon deplete them, but Dr. True counted over 100 of them spouting to- gether on more than one occasion. The Norwegian whales are richer in fat, owing to a greater plentitude of the moliusks on which they feed, but the Newfoundland ones are much larger and far more plenti- ful, so that the balance is struck about equally. The humpback gives the poorest yield, its “blanket” being thinnest of ail. The finback is more valuable, yielding four to six tons of oil, besides a goodly quantity of baleen, or whalebone. Scarcely a day passes without one falling a victim to the prowess of Skipper Bull of the little steam- er, and one week he made the record of thirteen prizes. A huge factory has been erected at Snook's Arm for the conversion of the dead fish into commercial products. As the whales are towed into the harbor they are moored by ropes to ringbolts fastened in the rocks, and here they float, as many as thirty or forty at a time, waiting their turn to be cut up and thrown into the refining vats, which rapidly convert the fat into fine, clear oil, largely in demand in Europe for soap making and other industrial undertak- ings. Only the fat is removed from the carcass. This fat is the outer covering. Inside that, and adhering to the bones, is the meat, a strong, tough, stringy growth, which so far has been valueless, though now an attempt is being made to transform it into patent fertilizer. All last winter the fisherfolk in the neighboring harbors car- ried it away by boatloads and used it for food, it being to them a very agreeable change from their eternal diet of codfish, though it would hardly satisfy the tourist or traveler. Not infrequently it was salted down in barrels, and did duty all the past summer, and this season a similar practice will be pursued, as the guano factory will not be ready to work before the spring. As the meat rots or is stripped from the whales, the bones drop to the bottom, where they- will remain as an ever-rising’ monu- ment to industrial activity, until science has devised some means of utilizing them, as it has of the other portions of the fish. ‘The Newfoundland whale fishery is a re- vival of an old United States industry. At one time as many as fifteen New Bedford whalers resorted every year to our south- ern bays, and pursued a very profitable business in these waters. Along through the latter part of the last century schooners from New York, Boston and other Ports cruised along our coasts seeking whales, and until 1812, when the war with England made the venture too hazardous, they plied this avocation with generaliy favorable re- sults. The old colonial records tell of the visits of these American vessels, and the progress they made, and not a few English. men also embarked in the business. But the antiquated implements with which the enterprise Was carried on, the dangers of the rock-ribbed coast and the ferocity of the sulphur bottom, combined to cause the speedy abandonment of the fishery. But with the appliances now in use, and the ex- perience of the past two years, it is cer- tain that the present fishery will be a com- plete success, and every museum in the world will be able to secure a full-sized stud ly the whale as a whole, specimen of a whale. —-o+—____ The Poster Pillow. From Harper's Bazar, ‘Every woman who works for fancy fairs, or who wishes to prepare a birthday gift for an up-to-date friend, just now makes a poster pillow. The earliest that were made were formidable efforts, requiring, first, th2 procuring of a paper poster, and then its difficult, half-impossible transfer- ence to linen or hollands. Now, at au the art stores, and even in the stock of most department stores, the designs are shown, all drawn and ready to work on suitable materials. Some of the most celebrated and striking French posters are thus repro- duced, as well as the best of those which our own American artists have given us. ‘When one hears that buyers are not lack- ing for the lithographs of four admirable” posters by a prominent French artist, of which the price ts $24 per set, orie under- stands that if the famboyant works of art have not come to stay they have ceri reached the top of the wave which breaks upon popular fancy. In repres2nting posters upon cloth no new stitches in embroidery are employed, and even novices in fancy work may easily achjeve success In the art which regular arusts in neealework would probably not allow to b2 called an art, so simple, so friv- olous is it comparec with the laborious tent stitch, Gobelin stitch and Berlin work with which their painstaking fingers cover every Inch of the groundwork. One who wishes to make the most utterly WHALE HUNTING OF up-to-date sofa cushion searches through the dealer's stock for a stamped pattern which pleases her. and then proceeds to cover the lines indicated with outline, or with what is sometimes called crew>l stitch, which is a sort of back stitch taken from left to right, instead of in the ordi- nary plain sewing way. coo TONS OF HONEY. Where the Wild Bees Abound is verde County, Texas. Del Rio (Tex.) Corr. Chicago Record. There is enough heney in the brakes of Devil's river to make any man rich who will get it te market. There are tons of it; clefts In the rocks, in hollow trees, i and in the famous “Devil's Punch Bow which is a great sink in the Devil's valley, and out of which bees swarm always in clouds so thick that at a distance of two or three miles it has the appearance of a ereat signal smoke. The hills ‘and valley land along the river are covered for a great part of the year with an endless variety of flow- ers, and in the winter season, which is never cold enough to freeze the bees, there is an abundance of decaying fruit—cactus apples and berries of many kinds—so that they never have to stop working on account of lack of material or bad weather, and thus go on piling up their wealth through- cut the whole year. The business of gathering this honey, while fairly profitable, is not followed to any great extent, for the reason that there is little in the work of the honey hunter which is anything like sport, and every- thing connected with it is full of privation = danger. The country is so rough that is impo: ible to get anywhere near the S unless one goes on foot, pack- mp equipage on his back or on a burro; water is not overpientiful and much of that to be found is unfit for use, and be- Ss all this the actual getting of the hone is no easy task. Sometimes the caves are In such inaccessible places that the hunter has‘to let himself down the face of a cliff for 200 or 300 feet and hang there at the end of his rope while the bees sting him half to death, while he digs out few pounds of honey; or, again, he may find a cave casy to rob only to find that he must curry the spoil several miles on his back before he can get it to a place where he can load it upon his burros. Several years ago a hunting party made up of Kan: City men went into that coun- try on a trip after big game, for there plenty of deer in there even now and that time bears were numerous. When thes got up into the honey country they began figuring on the fortunes to be made out of it, and having heard of the Devil's Punch Bowl, locally known as “Devil's Sink Hole,” they decided to go and see it and if. possi- ble devise some scheme whereby they mizht get the tons of honey it contained. When they reached it, like every one else, seeing it for the first time, they were amazed at the proportions of the wonder; a hole forty feet Jn diameter yawning open in the middle ofa wide valley, with a per- fect torrent of bees rushing up from it like dirt blown from some mighty blast and all the while a roaring loud as that of a great cxtaract; looking down into the abyss, for the hole widens immediately below the sur- face, they saw the festoons of honey haz ing there which the bees had strung alony the sides of their mammoth hive after they had filled the hidden grottoes, and througa the upward swarms could be seen the gleams of combs built no doubt many years before. —— ig es The Care of Cage Birds. From Harper's Bazar. How and where will you keep your bird? That cleanliness is obviously of the first importance, and that it is hard to keep fanciful cages free from dirt and parasites, is enough to condemn them. Swiss cot- tages, pagodas and the like, hung with pendants and sparkling with metallic orna- ments, are both tasteless and dangerous. The bird will pick at the bright points and dangling spangles until it polsons or chokes itself, and the corners and crinkles are so many lodgings for dirt and vermin. Wood- en cages are to be avoided because subject to impurity, and brass ones on account of the great danger from verdigris. for the gilding soon wears off. The gleaming wires are also harmful to a bird’s eyes, and they offer no contrast with its yellow plumage. If you must have a cage of the popular bell shape get a painted one, and repaint it as often as seems desirable. Where you shall place your canary or other bird to good advantage is a matter to consider carefully. In summer weather he enjoys being out of doors or in an open window, but not in the direct hot sunshine, nor exposed to a shower, nor where dogs or cats, hawks or shrikes can seize him or perhaps frighten him to death. Remem- ber that these little creatures may easily be frightened into illness or even death. eS The English Coastguard. From Chambers’ Journal. First and foremost, a coastguardman is a man-of-war's-man. He belongs to a partic- ular ship of war, on board which he is liable at any moment to be called upon to report himself. He knows his place and his duties on board that vessel; and he and his per- sonal belongings are in a perpetual state of readiness for active service on her decks, in her stokehold or otherwhere, as the case may be. We learn that he must have served for at Teast ten years in the royal navy, afloat, before joining the coastguard; and that he is kept in touch with the latest nautical practice by yearly periods of train- ing on board an ironclad. A Twentieth Century Drama. Blanche Trennor, in Harlem Life. ‘The woman she sat in her dusty den, Her paper all scattered about, While she toilsomeiy tought, with pipe and pen, ‘To straighten her business out, When a sudden cry Of agony From her husband smote her ear: “Help! help! be quick! Oh, it makes sick? I shall aie if you ‘The woman she strode across the floor, An anxious frown on her brow, And she tenderly said, as she opetied the door, “What troubles my poppet nuw?” For perched on a chair High up In air ‘That frantic man she found, And he gave a shriek At every squeak Of the mouse that played around. “Just look!” he sobbed, with bis coat held high, As he poised on the tip of his toe; “What a savage Jerk of his tail! Ob my! It will run up my clothes, | know! How its eyeballs glare! And its mouth, see there? Ob, it’s going to jump! Be quick!” ‘Thus the man wailed on Till the mouse was gone, Scared off by the woman's stick. ‘The woman she smiled at his petty fears In a fond, superior way, While he strove to check the bursting tears, ‘As he breathlessly watched the fray. ‘Then the man to the floor She hel once more, And lovingly kissed and caressed, Her strong arms she wound His frail form around, And he wept out his fright on her breast! So Born in Boston. Of course you know Miss Blodgett came from Bos- ton, Or, “born in Boston"? was the phrase she used. If some poor native of that place was tossed on ‘A barren island, and the waves refused To bring him succor, I believe the lost one, When be met Death—the monarch oft abused— Would make to that grim king the important state- ment That “be was born in Boston,” with elatement. ‘They have a monument a few miles out, On Bunker Hill; "tis small, but rather neat, A native who was showing me about vi reply, “One thousand feet. They think their town would put the world to rout— And when are bonses burned on Beacon strect Their papers printed, in confusion dire, “Partial destfuction of the world by fire!" ‘They alway to church on Sunday morning, re bold: that if this world should cease to be They would receive a previous special warning In time to — up eee ee They talk about New tones of rning, ci cay to be fhe lode of Ian ee cai toe ie ro Tend an ea are culety fed on codfish, pork and beans. ‘cl on coat "yor and eu Forget Me Not. Mildred McNeil in New Orleans Times-Democrah, Forget me not! SS HUNTING THE OSTRICH EXCITING SPORT ON THE Pawras or SOUTH AMERICA. se Damgcrousx to Life and Limb— Dextrous tse of the Bolas. Herta Drertacn rat net commonly known that t st AS Many ostriches in South Ar as in Africa, and yet th feathers from the fi ual oxy 7 mer country United States alone is in the neigt representing in Americ ers from the African bird in hav and neck completely feathered, in be- ess and having three toes inst: It may be fe of two. in the Argentine and Urogu ind in large num! y republics rountry extending from and In the ivia, Paraguay and Brazil as far south as the traits of Magellan. Its home is on the pampas,” or plains: sometimes on open stound. and more often near cover of srass and stunted undergrowth. Since the birds are wild and wary and their feathers are in demand, methods have beon adopted to catch them. and » methods are at the time a busin and the most exciting sort of sport. A powerful horse ndition to st hard riding and long abstinence from wa is the first’ const¢ fon in ostrich h ing. The course is both annoying dangerous, for, though the is level ground, with no fences io fear, the rhea take ce to the “pajas,”” or high érass. Th t onty a hindr: in self, but conceals innumerable hi mua by ground hogs and moles, that area con- ace t ife and limb. Yet, on a y in the bracin South American » with plenty a COU of # try with an ur exhila ho mor is that fo low Indians or ¢ They wu or balls, three of ston or heavy hardwood round and red with rawhide balls are attached to thongs of the sar material, which are jc center. “When all is. re the Indians mount their horses and a ach the game in a large semi-circle, riding against the wind, for the ostrich is keen of scent and once he ts the presence of a man is off Mk. ng. When birds ar ed the riders swing S round heads with great their horses all the whi geing at full gallop, and when within range hurl them at the game, entangling its legs, wings or neck, and tripping it, or stunning it it hit on the head er any sensitive t. At i ful to the rise in s when at full speed, swing the d hit the mark, sometimes at a dis- it tance of eighty yards. brought down the rest panic stricken, and, instead of escaping, remain near their fallen companion. In this w a score of them may be killed in one spot. To the man who loves hunting, for sata of the chase alone, horses and greyhounds appeal more. It is a sportsmanlike racs, where the game has a chance for its life. It is very like fox hunting, exeept that ths ostrich is swifter, if anything, and employs even more dodges than a fox. For tn- stance, when the hunters are pressing loss on the game and it would seem that the dogs were about to capture ft, the takes advantage of the least breath of air, aises one wing slightly, using it as a sail, running slantwise against the by nishes from sight like a leaf in a whirl- wind. If by any chance the breeze dies out and the hunte: feel sure of their ostrich, the latter doubles like a fox, so quickly and suddenly that the dogs pas beyond, making the hunt long drawn out, d:fficult and exciting. Though game la hibiting the killing of os breeding season, ttle, if any, attention is paid to them. It is estimated that from 300,000 to 500,000 birds are slaughtered : nually, a number which has not only thinned out the species to a great ext but promises in time to extinguish it together. The only remedy for thi one bird is ‘mM to become assed pro- es during th in a country where law is ineff to establish ostrich farms in Africa and California. Nor fs the ostrich hunt Its flesh is agreeabl mutton, and an p eggs, or rather several of one egg, possess a de Consequently egg hunting ts much of a sport as ostrich hunting. h lay in one nest, which s holds from twelve to twenty-five ¢ . cock often hatches the eggs, and if di turbed during the operation becomes very dangerous, not hesitating to attack with hig legs a man on hors tive would milar to those for its fe somew alone. What From Lippincett's. We telephoned to the intelligence office for a cock. As Annie was the only name given on her card from the office, we in- quired her surname. “Annie,” I said, “what is the rest of your name?" ‘That is it,” was the reply. “Yes,” I continued, “I know your name fs Annie, but Annie what “That is it, I tell you, missus,” she said with a broad smile. ‘You have two names surely,” I insisted, “a first name and a second name. Now, ur second name?” us,” she exclaimed with some 1 tell you that ts it.” impatience, With rising displeasure, thinking she trifling, I said is Annie what? “Oh,” she cried enthusiastically, “I am so glad you know! I tink you will never know. Yes, that is it!” For a while I sat in silent despair, the girl eying me with a rueful countenance. Fina!ly a happy thought struck me. Annie,” I asked very mildly, “what your father’s name? “Michael,” was the doleful reply. “Michael what?” I almost gasped. f ing that I was suddenly becoming a p rot. But, like the eternal “Nevermore” of Poe’s “Raven,” came the echo, “That is itr’ A sudden illumination! the dull brain. i “What do you put on your father’s let- ters?” I next interrogated. “That is what I must put or he would not get them,” was the sobbing response. Unwilling to give up after such a trial of patience on both side, I asked gently, “How do you spell it?” E Slowly came the solution of the enigma— “W-a-c-h-1 —~--______ A Useless Drink. From the London Leades Frederick Villiers, in his letter about Magersfontein, relates this incident: After the battle he came on some of the wounded enemy. “The Scandinavian in command had a bayonet thrust through his stomach and was dying. He signed to me that he was thirsty. I lifted him up and gave him a cup of condensed milk. A wounded com- nion lying by his side said, in very good English: ‘It’s no use to give it him, sir; it only runs out of the hole in his stomach.’ This was true, but still the poor fellow had the sensation of the refreshing draught passing down his throat. It was his last drink. I can see his eager, hungry look even now, and, though an enemy, I wish I could have done more for him. A few hours afterward he was buried by the side of the heroes of the Highland Brigade.” ——__+0+—____ Growing Young. From the Boston Journal. President Eliot's sixty-sixth birthday re- minds me of a story he told a good many years ago at a Harvard alumni dinner in a form something like this: “I cannot acknowledge that as the years go by I am growing old. I have evidence to the contrary. When I was a proctor at a few years after my graduation I learned that the students spoke of me habitually as ‘old Eliot.’ A few nights ago, on the other I met a group of stu- ry decidedly, “Your name is re Perhaps mine is