The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 30, 1898, Page 23

HE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JANUARY 30, 1898. e ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— e 23 <« A NEW GAME BIRD FOR CALIFORRIA. O the philanthropy of the Hon. O. N. Denny Oregon owes her plentiful supply to-day of the most beautiful and gamiest game bird on the face of the earth. From less than one hundred individuals brought into the State in the early eighties they have increased until their numbers are beyond any estimate, and they have spread out over the State from the ccean beach to the summit of the Cascade Mountains in such a man- ner as to show that they are capable of adapting themselves to widely different * conditions of life. Like all new ‘inno- wvations, the Denny pheasant has found a few willing to depreciate its value by laying at its door accusations of de- structiveness to crops and orchards, be- sides the minor crime of whipping the farm yard rooster, an accusation to which I am afraid he must plead gullty, although the statement that he afterward espouses the whipped roos- ter’s harem is without foundation. Whether the introduction of the Den- ny pheasant is detrimental to the inter- ests of the farming community or not, this article, founded on the writer’'s ac- quaintance with the bird almost daily gince its introduction into the State of Oregon, is intended to show. The Denny pheasant belongs to that order of birds known as the “Gallina,” which order embraces all birds that scratch the ground in search of food, and it should be unnecessary to state that the food of all such birds is largely composed of insects, and the bird in question is no exception to the rule, for it is absolutely impossible to raise young pheasants without a plentiful supply of insect larvae of some Kkind, and the mature birds are particularly fond of grasshoppers and locusts. 3y following the birds month after month throughout the ar their food and general habits may best be shown. January finds them seeking shelter from the snow storms along edges of the woods where the brambles are thickest, scratching among the dead leaves for grubs and beetles or eating the berries of the wild rose and other wild specles, perhaps, paying an occa- sional visit to near farm yards to scratch a few grains of wheat from the chickens’ feed. At this time the sexes may be seen together, but as February draws to a close the hens become more timid and are very seldom seen. March is the mating season and the males may be seen everywhere, bold and defiant as if proud of their gorge ous plumage, which is now at its ve b - food is much the same as in Jan- but by some it is claimed that.at period they pull up and eat the growing grain: this may be true, but they also cutworms and that repay a hun- dred fold for the small damage that it is claimed they do. The mating continues during April, and at this time the males are most pugnacious, fighting among themselves, racing up and down the furrows and crowing constant onsume many thousands of in In regard to this it may be well to state how the serienced breeders ha 1d that the best results are s are killed off un- he proportion of one to eve! three females. ard the end of April or in the first part of May the nest is made by the female. It is simply a depression scratched in the ground and lined with a few dead leaves, dry grass or fern, always well hidden from the sight of man and generally in some fence cor- ner or bush pi Vests have been found both earlier and later than May, owing, no doubt, to the fact that all birds are govermed largely by climatie conditions as to the time selected to make their nests, and not by the calen- dar months ablished by man. The number of eggs laid ranges from fifteen to twenty, and the period of in- cubation is twenty-four days from the time the last egg is laid to when the hen leaves the nest with her brood. By many it is claimed that two broods are raised in a se n, based on the fact that young chicks have been seen very late in the fall. In the opinion of the writer but one brood is raised, the fact of young chicks being found in the fall being due to the first batch of eggs having been destroyed by skunks, wea- sels, rats, crows, cats or man, all of whom are inveterate enemies of the pheasants at this period. The food in early summer con s largely of in- chiefly g hoppers, locusts, flies and worms, while the consume large quantities of They are very fond of peas, reach young aphids. but the damage done is merely casual and, as to the assertion that they dam- age the orchards by flying through the trees, knocking off the blossoms or fruit, it is entirely without foundation, as everyone who knows anything about pheasants (quail or grouse, sometimes called pheasants in many localities, are not referred to here) knows very well that they always fly well over timber or run through it, and their habit of flying- directly upward when flushed in the timber has given rise to the term “rocketing.” During the months of July and Aug- ust, while the grain is in the field, it forms at least two-thirds of their food. Fully half of the grain thus eonsumed is picked from the ground, and would be a loss to the farmer in any event. It has been often claimed that the birds damage the standing grain by running. through it with wings spread and thus knocking it down. This state- ment is too ridiculous to be worthy of gerfous consideration. Others state that the birds light on the shocks of wheat and thrash out the grain with their wings. This certainly does not occur very often and may be easily ex=- plained. The bird trying to perch upon the shock finding an unstable perch, he endeavors to gain his equilibrium in the same manner as does the farmyard rooster on a loose fence rail, and fiaps his wings in so do- ing. The Denny Oregon summed follows: For ten months of the year he i8 a pos- case of pheasant may up the in be as PHEASANTS TO BE PLENTIFUL. Now that the State Fish and Game Commission is stocking the southern and middle part of Califor- nia with Chinese pheasants there is a likelihood that soon there will be a plentiful supply of these beauti- ful birds inall sections. While the importation of the Chinese pheasant into Northern California has not been as successful as in Oregon, there is gocd reason to believe that in the new localities they will do better. The talk about the birds becoming pestsis untrue, as the accompanying article by Professor Bretherton will show, Nor is there any danger of their increasing at “an alarming rate” here, as the long, dry summers of the in- terior are not go favorable to them as the more moist climate of Oregon. tempt at stocking will prove successful and so secure a plenty of game birds for the future. N B R G R R NN L NN RN N U N RN U RN RRNRARRES ZRRERBRRRIRNN by de- for two itive benefit to the farmer stroying injurious insec months he consumes the grain in about the same proportion as does the do- mestic poultry, much of which would be lost in any event. To offset this depredation it should be remembered that a full-grown Den- ny pheasant furnishes fully as good a meal, iIf not better, in quantity and quality, as does the average chicken of the ordinary farm. It is often asserted that the Denny pheasant is driving out the native grouse. This is not true. Before the introduction of the Denny pheasant in Oregon the native birds were steadily decreasing as the country settled up, while in the mountain ranges grous are more numerous to-day than they were fifteen years ago, showing that they have simply taken up their abode in localities more congenial to their HUNGRY JIM'S GREAT SACRIFICE. WAY back in the early fifties Cal- jfornia was ruled by very little Jaw but a great deal of justice. To-day the conditions are re- versed, but in those stirring times, a short shrift and a long rope were the means to the end of' mgny a man who, in the simple annals of his far-away birthplace, was counted among the “missing” forever after. Bulger's Bar, on the upper Yuba, was no exception to the generality of the primitive mining camps In its administration of affairs. Faro was winked at, but the theft of a ham or a bag of beans was a crime de- manding a penalty ‘of not than ex- pulsion from the camp; the shooting down of a human being, if there was but the semblance of a cause, was but a mis- deme: ide the rifiing of a sluice box. The logical successor of the wittena- gemote of the Anglo-Saxons. the vigilance committee, was composed of the best citi- zens of the Bar, and at its head stood Hank Dunn, proprietor of the Red Light _saloon, and easily the leading citi- zen of the community. Of late the committee had been the yme- what lax in the performance of i 1f- imposed duties. It is true that one un- fortunate who had been discovered in the possession of one more ace than the law allows to any well-regulated deck of cards had been escorted from the camp astride of a_very sharp rail, but capital punish- ment had not been inflicted for upward of six months anwhile Red Dog had hung two men and Bulger's Bar had begun to complain of the apathy of its vigilance committee which had thus al- lowed an inferior neighbor to gain such ascendancy in the eyes of the world. The times were ripe for an uprising, and when “Hungry” Jim, the most onspicuous ne'er-do-well of the Bar, was caught red- anded in the act of & a can of ust from the cabin of “Lucky” George, it felt, even in the air, that Bulger's opportunity for self-assertion haq arrived. he committee was speedily summoned to convene and the wretch was quickly tried and condemned. “ Upon the adjourn- ment of the court, he was escorted in sflenee a quarter of mile down the canyon to a large tree which had more than once done its duty in the history of Bulger's Bar. The rope was carefully adjusted around ” Jim's neck, the other end thrown over an outstretched limb, and twenty men grasped it while awaiting a signal to pull. 3 ow. Jim,” said Hank Dunn, while a fell on'the assemb 'n accused of the worst crime in the lendar of Bulger's Bar; you have been fairly tried by a jury of yvour peers and found guilty; you have been sentencedand the sentence is about to be executed. If you have anvthing to say, say it now, and may God have mercy on your soul.” Sometimes, in the presence of death, the most worthless of beings acquires a dig- nity that vears of effort fail to give. “Hungry” Jim knew his time had come, and he did not quaver. He drew himself up to his full height and spoke simply: “Friends, for You have been my fri 1 know g;( law and T s t mercy. Since I've been in ,this cam perhap T've been shiftless, perhaps I've. been worthless, as some of you have intimated to-day. I prefer tell the plain truth and say I've been unlucky. You know every claim I've took up has petered .out; everything I've turned my hand to has gone dead against me. Not one of you ever knew me to steal before, and God knows T was driven to it this time by absolute want. [ make no other excuse, for I have none. If it were possible for me to be spared this time, I would promise faith- fully to lead a dif- ferent life. Yet, I know such words seem childish, for they are the last re- sort of all men in my position, and per- haps they are unwor- thy of a man who was once a gentleman. 1f you _think they are, 1 withdraw them, although they were honestly spoken. However, 1 presume I would be better out of the world than in it, and you may do your duty. Good-by, friends, and may never regret your act of to-day He was silent and every hand on the rope tightened its grasp in the expectation of a word from Hank Dunn. But at this instant, a tall, broad-shouldered man pushed his way through the little crowd. and stood beside_ the condemned criminal. It was Jokn Harper, better known in the community as ‘“Yankee" John. He had not been a resident of Bulgers more than six months, and was taciturn to a fault, but on more than one occasion he had not hesitated to vigorously condemn what he termed the “lawless methods” of vig- ilance committees. It was generally con- sidered by many of Bulgers’ best citizens that he was too outspoken in his denun- ciation of what they deemed to be their bounden duty, but he had come to be known as an’ uncompromisingly honest and upright man, and their respect for his virtues had hitherto deterred them from doing what many thought neces- sary, namely, teaching him a needed les- son.’ In fact, they had hurried the prep- ations for “Hungry” Jim’s execution -cause they knew Harper had gone to Marysville, and while they did not fear any active opposition on his part to such a procedure (some of them even thinking from his peaceable ways that he was lacking in courage), vet they had no de- sire to need offend him. But he had unexpectedly returned that after- noon and now stood before them, white anger. s that you would not t criminal that mercy everyone of you would beg for in his tion?” he cried in indignant tones. “Would you take a human life in pay- ment for the petty crime that this man has committed?” “It ain't no petty crime,” sald Hank Dunn, sullenl “No, it ain’t,” shouted a dozen voices. “It is petty compared with the penalty vou would inflict,” said Harper. “I have not lived long among you, it is true, and God grant I may never hold my residence here long enough to be as lost to reason and humanity as are you. 1 come from a State where In obedience to the divine law, a life is demanded for a_life, but not for a lesser consideration. Such acts as you men contemplate doing to-day are in contravention of human rights and in mockery of justice. This execution shall proceed.’” “You ain’t got nothin’ to say about it ghouted Hank Dunn. “String him "up, ovs n the sleeping lion bécame aroused. John Harper pulled a navy revolver and aimed it directly at the line of men whose hands were on the rope. “Pull that rope one inch and I pull the trigger,” he cried. A haif-dozen revolvers leaped into the air; but another form, lean and wiry, had gained the center of the mob, and stood beside Harper. It Was Bill Griggs, the nerviest faro-dealer on the Yuba. “By God! I'm with you, Yank! Iadmire your pluck!” he cried. He had a der- ringer in_each hand, and as he looked ound at the angry men he continued, cooler and more even tone: ee men, ou all know Bill Griggs. ain’t man_here but has won from me, and you know the mean- S guerrilla on the Yuba couldn’t never steal a copper from any of you while as dealin’ bank or lookin’ out. You're all friends of mine, but I believe ankee’ John & ight, and I'm goin’ to in a s cuss one more he’'ll be honest. cases on him, and cent by ack of reds but I'll be »pe on that were s »me muttered remarks indicative of disappoint- ment and disgust; but when “Lucky George announced that he was satisfled, Hank Dunn was forced to give in and order the criminal released. Thus did Bul- ger's Bar lose its chance of re- t prestige, and many e the consolatory jotations served in the Red Yight that night. “Hungry” Jim walked back to the camp ut the heels of John Harper, who said not a word until the two were safe inside his little cab- in. Then he turned to the man who had been rescued from the val- ley of the shadow of th. sternly. You will never hear me brag will I ever re- mind you of any indebtedness you may owe me on account of it. I ghall only expect you to be honest for the future. 1 feel a sort of responsibility for your be- ing on earth, though, and T will give you something to do. 1 need help on my claim. You may go to work in the morning at regular wages, and you may have one end of this ca to live in. That is all.” From that day ‘““Hungr: Jim_was a’ changed man. He toiled in Har- er's claim early and late, and proved himself fully worthy of his hire. There seemed to be no task too difficult, no labors too onerous for him to undertake. Gradually he lost his hungry, shiftless look and an appearance of respectability settled upon his face and figure. He was a handy man about camp, and many were the odd jobs he did for his erst- while would-be lynchers, steadfastly re- fusing remuneration for his services, and the leading citizens began to conclude that, after all, he did have some good qualities Between hig employer and him spoken words were few and far between. Ona was naturally reticent and the other re- spected his silence. But a bond of friend- ship grew up between them, which was cemented still closer by Harper's illness, which came a few months later. For four weeks he tossed between life and death in a slow, wasting fever. he miners, rough, but tender-hearted, performed such little services as they could: but Jim was a whole hospital. He developed unexpected qualities, both as a physician and a nurse. Day and night, without re- moving his_clothes, he watched by the bedside, and finally when the crisis was past and John was recovering strength, the congratulatory miners told him that even as Jim owed his existence to him, he owed his life to Jim. Harper called Jim to him one day and endeavored to express his gratitude. “You know, Jim, I'm not a man to say It is to be hoped that this last at- nnRuNNuLLLLLNN NBRRURVRNNNRRRRRS much,” he said with’ a fond look, “but 1 owe my life to you, and from this time on, you are a full partner in my claim. That is all I can do.” Nonsense,” responded Jim, husk only did what was right, for I owed more than 1 could ever pay. You took vour life in your hands when you saved me; what I did was easy. Don’t magnify my little act so great- ly,” said Harper. “If you will have It 80, we will call ourselves square now, but you must take half the claim.” Jim protested and muttered that they were not square vet by a long shot, but Harper's was the stronger nature and Jim finally consented with a mental reser- vation that Harper should lose nothing by his_generosity. “Why, Jim, the ys have been telling me all about you,” continued Harper in grateful tones.” “‘You've been as kind and tender and careful as any woman could be—that is, any woman except one. Ah Jim, I've never mentioned her to you nor to any one else, but I feel like talking about her to-d X e?" asked Jim, softly. she your ey ,”" responde arper, with a sign that told of the suffering Whl?l:l%p “Perhaps she never will be, but we live and hope, strong in the consciqus- ness of each other’s love. She is married, or at least, she wa married, but wheher her hus- band is alive or dead, nobody knows. I don’t think there ever was much love be- tween them, and six years ago he deserted her for face, leav- starve. Her she struggle after, and hard time, but she w ergetie, independent, little and to woman, she managed pull through. S issupporting he self and child now 3000 miles from hereand I am laying by a little every day in thehope that sEome his hands, then he sat down and read as folows: Massachusetts, May 18, 18— Dearest John: Your last letter has just reached me, and I am so thankful that you have re- covered from the feven wich you speak slightigly of, but which am sure must have been serious. I think if you were to die, John, I would aimost die too, for I only live for you and little Annie. I am so grateful to “‘Hungry Jim” (what a funny name) for being so kind and tender to you, but of course you cannot tell him this as you could if I were your wife. “Your wife!” How blissful and sweet the words sound. Well, perhaps they may be proper some d: who knows. May the gracious God speed the time. really feel that my husband is dead or we should have heard something from him in six s, but we must be quite sure. You know my old scruples, and I as- sure you they have not changed a particle although my love has sadly shaken the at times. * * * 1 think you so much for the money you sent. You must be getting very rich in the Golden West, for it is more than I ever saw in all, my life. But of course 1 could not think _ of using it Chinese Pheasant That Is Now Being Introduced Into Different Parts of the State time she will allow me to relieve her ev- ery want.” John paused, and as h ape, the light of love and hope in his s vied with the bright rays of the spring sun that came cpeeping through the window pane. . “I never knew her husband,” he con- tinued. “I first met her en she came to our little town in the East in search of a location. She has considerable mus- ical talent and soon found pupils enough to keep her from want. She was such a bright, self-reliant woman and withal so tender, so pretty and so sweet that I could no more resist loving her than I could resist the warmth of the sun. I thought she was a widow, and only learned the truth when I asked her to marry me. She could not conceal her love for me. but I then learned of her husband and knew my cause was hope- musings took “Why didn't she get a divorce?"” inter- “Of course I could not stay there after that, so I came to California with the next party from my vicinity. Some day we may be happy together. TUntil that time we can only hope and love with a love that will last until eternity.” He_turned on his side and was silent. He had mentioned no names and Jim asked no further confidence, but stole quietly from the cabin. Harper was out of bed In a few days and rapidly gained strength in the warm, life-giving _California sunshine. Jim worked harder than usual, and the added dignity of partnership in a good claim gave him such importance in the eyes of the community that he was beginning to be recognized as one of Buiger's leading citizens. Although he traded no longer with Hank Dunny.even that worthy was one day constrained to observe that “John Harper and Bill Griggs never done a better day’s work in their lives than when the; (op“od that lynching, even if Red Dog did thereby get the laugh on Bulgers.” Some three months afer his recovery Harper went to Marysville, expecting to return a couple of days later. On the ev- ening of his departure, Jim was potter- ing around the cabin engaged in the pre- paration for his supper and accidentally knocked a tin can from the table. As it clattered to the floor, a letter fell out, It half protruded from the envelope and as he stooped to pick it up he caught a glimpse of the date line. For several minutes he hesitated, with the letter in for myself, and guess what T have done with it? After doing a great deal of very hard thinking, I did what I thought you would like best. I have concluded nego- tlations for the purchase of your moth- er's old home where you wkere born. The papers will be made out in your name so when you come back you will have your old home to go to. And vou must come soon, for, to tell the truth, I am hungry for a sight of your noble, honest face. I think if the neighbors were physiognomists, they would call me “Hungry Annie,’ something like your kind partner is termed. * * * Be of good heart as I am, and every- thing_will come right in the end. With this little letter go a thousand good wishes and the tenderest, truest love from your ANNIE. P. S.—I am getting along famously with my classes, and I enclose my latest card. You see, I am quite business like. At the conclusion of the reading, Jim mechanically picked the card from the floor where it had fallen and read: MRS. J. H: WESTON, Teacher of Vocal and Instrumental Music. Then he walked outside and gazed.for a long time at the stars that werebeginning to peep out in the blue sky. Finally, he walked inside, wrote a long letter tq Har- per and then fay_down on his hard couch. Two days latter Harper returned from ‘Marysville-and went direct to his cabin. Hungry Jim was still lying on the rough bed, and in his face was that peace which passeth all understanding. Stunned and dazed, Harper turned and saw the letter which he had read through, while for the first-time in years tears rolled down his cheeks. Then he went to Hank Dunn’s and call- ing the boys into the back room, told them a long story, concluding with the information that immediately after Jim's funeral he intended to go East. He kept his word, and Bulger's Bar saw him no more, but for many months the leading citizens took all their visitors to the Iit- tle cemetery on the hill side to_ show them “the finest monument on the Yuba.” Jt was a plain marble column, bearing on its base these words: Sacred to the Memory of JAMES H. WESTON. He Died for His Friend. FRANK C. RADCLIFFE. THE COSTLIEST BEAN IN THE WORLD, It is not generally known that the va- nilla bean is the cost- liest bean on earth. It grows wild, and is gath- ered by the natives in Papantla and Misantla, Mexico. When brought from the forests these beans are sold at the rate of £25s per 1000, but when dried and cured they cost about £25s per pound. They are mainly used by drug- gists. STORY OF ONE POTATO SEED. TINY seed may feed a nation! An atom of vegetable life may evolve results of universal bene- fit to mankind. Twenty-three years ago last May a New England youth living not far from Boston, in the “Old Bay State,” held in his hand a single seed about half as large as an ordinary pinhead. It would have taken several hundred of similar size to make a meal for a canary. To the ordinary observer the seed would have seemed to differ in no re- spect from others of its kind, but the youth, who scrutinized it through the SINGLE BRANCH OF THE NEW WILD OLIVE WONDERIFUL T is a pity about Noah’s dove. If she had only waited until this century and come to Los Angeles County she might have had all the wild olive she wanted instead of one measly little sprig. If she had taken a fly over Antelope Valley she would have found hundreds of olive bushes scattered in shady places. But as it is, in default of her being here, Dr. A. Davidson of this city, in com- pany with Mr. Nathan Cole Jr., who owns land in the district, made the discovery which may now lead to the finest olive production that this State has yet known. Antelope Valley lies in the northern part of Los Angeles County, beyond the Government reserve, where the . Southern Pacific lies an uninterrupted track over the smooth stretch toward San Francisco. Toward the southern edge the flat ground has been caught up and huddled into bumpy little mountain ridges that organize creeks to watergthe valley. Here, at an ele- vation of 3000 feet, where ravines are frequent, Dr. Davidson stumbled upon a modest shrub that boasts of nothing big except its technical name. Foresteria neo Mexicana, the learned doctor calls it—that is, he is willing to call it so if you wish to know, although his discourse is us- ually so simple that not one man in a hundred would guess that he is one of the rarest botanists as well as all- round scientists in this part of the State. The bush is not commonly more than six feet high, although it now and then reaches as much as twenty feet under favorable condi- tions. It is a dwarf even to its fruit, but a sturdy little native for all that, and if it can be brought to infuse some of its vigor into its cultivated cousin then will California produce such oil and pickles as will make an epicure’s mouth water. The plant puts forth a leaf smoothly elliptical like the orchard-grown olive, but hardly more than half an inch long. The blossom that appears is an insignificant greenish affair, unassert- ive as if it knew that it would never amount to much anyway and had no excuse for forcing itself. True enough. The fruit is as small as a pea—similar to the haw in appearance. It grows thick on the branch, but it is appar- ently as useless a little specimen as ever lived, being almost all seed and skin. The color is a dark plgm shade, P OSSIBILITIES OF A NEW WILD deeper than the cultivated fruit. It ripens in September, shrivels away and leaves the seed to its career. Foresteria neo Mexicana likes the north side and shady side of ravines, and it scorns any but a rich, loamy soil. It is common all the way from Gorman’s Station, up near the head of the Prin River, to Big Rock Creek on the southeast, where the spiendid Sierra Madres give the first hint of their intentions. Little Rock Creek flows between its favorite slopes, for here is where it can best reach water, and it gives evidence everywhere of being-a thirsty infant. When it was first found in '3, it was welcomed as a botanical curiosity and nothing more, being the only genuine growth of wild olive so far found in America. It is only now that the full significance of its being is OLIVE. dawning upon our enterprising fruit growers, who are beginning to scheme for more worlds to conquer. Where this bush flourishes so will its more cherished cousin, and already the colonists of Antelope Valley are add- ing to our southern olive orchards. Now if the process can be perfected of grafting this little native son to the less vigorous cultivated tree the result promises to be the finest growth of olives in California. Moreover, Pro- fessor Hayne of the University thinks that he has found valuable medicinal properties in the plant, and Is at pres- ent experimenting along the line of his theory. ‘The possibilities look immense, and all from a little bush that most people wouldn’t have looked at twice. ‘Which is the way of the world. SARAH COMSTOCK. S S eye of genius, thought he had good reasons for believing that it deserved a better fate than to be fed to the bird and it was therefore carefully planted and tenderly watched all through that New England summer of I1874—and millions of his fellow men have the benefits wrought by the prescience of a youthful enthusiast then on the threshold of renown in his chosen field of science. When the hazy Indian summer came the plant had done its work, and three and one-fourth pounds of the most beautiful white potatoes which had ever been seen were the product of the little seed. The tubers were planted and replant- ed, and when the second season had passed two tons was the crop which a prominent Kastern seedsman pur- chased and introduced to the public in the spring of 1 The new potato was such an evident improvement upon any tuber of its kind ever known theretofore that it immediately sprang into favor in all parts of America, and it was not:long ere its superior qualities became known in all other countries where the potato is grown. Such is the genesis of the Burbank potato—named in honor of its origina< tor, Luther Burbank of Santa Rosa. The young New Englander who mada this fortunate periment so many years ago has since become famous among the world’s savants in the sama line of scientific experiment. Many times has he thrilled the scientists of the vegetable world by the announce~ ment of a new and distinct species— the creation of such being the principal aim of his professicnal life—and rich have been the honors showered upon him by his fellow scientists and the world at large for his brilliant achieve- ments in the propagation of new fruits, flowers and vegetables, but it is safe tc say that no prod: genius has wrought so much of ma- terial good to Christendom as has tho potato, which bears his name, More than two hundred million bushels of the Burbank potato are now grown cvery year, and by a most care= ful and conservative estimate, mads from reliable statistics, the amount of this variety which h been grown since its introduction is considerably more than two billion seven hundred million bushels, or one hundred and sixty-two trillion pounds—enough to give every inhabitant of this earth nearly two bushels. From the figures quoted above it wilk be seen that enough Burbank potatoes have been produced (counting one pound laid lengthwise to measure one foot) to reach twelve hundred and twenty-seven times around the world, and more than one hundred and twenty times the distance to the moon. The price paid the young propagator forthis potato, which is yet in its prime and which has added to the wealth of all nations and will doubtless augment the wealth of nations yet unborn, was $150. The reader may ponder the con- 2s to the race if by careless- been lost or destroyed. Mr. Burbank now handles, nearly every day :ds as precious in poten- tialities as was the subject of this which hold within them- alculated to ay tha nd and even to af- the weal of nations. Jeremiah Ryan, who has just won a verdict of $1000 from the city of Chi- ago for injuries due to a defective ewalk, is the only American sur- vivor of the famous Light Brigade, im« mortalized by Tennyson. S