Bemorvaic; acm Bellefonte, Pa., May 26, 1905. TESS THE SILENT GOSSIP. It isn’t always what you say that hurts your fellow man; There are other ways of giving him the “hooks.” And knockers long since learned to try a more effective plan— They simply do it by their knowing looks. No spoken word—why waste the breath? Just give a little wink, Or elevate your eyebrows half an inch. Just toss your head a trifle, smile a bit and slyly blink, And you've done the dirty business—that's a cinch, There's Brown, your nearest neighbor, he’s distasteful unto you But you haven’t nerve enough to speak it out, So whene’er you hear him mentioned as a fel low good and true, You only wink your eye, expressing doubt. You grin a knewing kind of grin, your eyes are narrow slits, But never say a word—from flinch. But your actions tell your story, and his name is smashed to bits, * And you've done the dirty business—that’s a cinch. that you You envy Mrs. Jones a bit, and know no reason why; But never stop to give her halt a chance. You merely hate the woman, though you smile on passing by And curl your lips when taking backward glance, You hear her kindly mentioned and you toss your head and smile, But wouldn't dare a word in tightest pinch. But your nodding tells your feelings, and in just a little while You have done the dirty business—that's a cinch. Itlisn’t always what you say—you needn't say a word To blast a woman's name beyond repair. Perhaps you never spoke her name that any- body heard, Yet smooched a reputation that was fair. And all the while you do it you are puffing up with pride That you wounidn’t gossip even in a pinch; But your nod or wink or smiling in a knowing way aside— ; And you've done the dirty business—that’s a cinch. “ST. PATRICK'S DAY IN THE MORNIN. Adjutant,” remarked the Colonel of the Twin Counties Rifles, ‘‘to-morrow will be St. Patrick’s Day.” ‘Yes, Colonel.” ‘‘And the sutler of that Irish regiment down the road is going to sell liquor—for one day only.”’ ‘Yes, Colonel.” ‘“There are about a hundred Irishmen in our own regiment.’’ ‘“Yes, Colonel.” ‘“Well, what are yon going to do abous it 27? The Adjutant might have answered safe- ly by repeating the Colonel’s question, for the two men had been close acquaintances in civil life before the war. But it was custom in the volunteer service for a Col- onel to shift all possible responsibility upon the shoulders of his Adjutans, with the understanding that if the load was borne bravely and ably, the Adjutant, should the proper vacancy occur, mighs expect to become a major without first going through the intermediate grade of captain. “Our Irishmen and hundreds of our other men, but particularly tbe Irishmen, will want some of that liquor. I don’t imagine that many of them have money, for the paymaster is four months past due, but most of them haveacquaintances in the other regiment, some of whom will stand treat. Probably the whisky itself will be very bad. Such of our men as get some of it will wish to celebrate the glorious day. When such celebrations begin no one can predict the end. So what are youn going to do to keep our camp quiet on St. Fatrick’s Day 2? The Adjutant bad been thinking, so he paraphrased a historic saying of the first General-in-Chief of the American army thus : *‘Put none but Irishmen on guard to-morrow. ’’ The Colonel gasped : “What? Do you wish to drive me out of the service ?'’ ‘‘On the contrary. I'm devising a chance for you to be promoted for having the division’s most orderly camp on St. Pat- rick’s Day. There are Irish in every regi- ment, you know.’ 3 The Colonel’s band consulted his mus- tache before he 1eplied : ‘‘It’s a brilliant plan; but it would be shockingly irregular, and it might make trouble for ms. The men would have to be detailed ous of their regular order on the company rosters, so any captain could complain of departure from time-honored custom. How oan you see your way clear to do it ?”’ ‘‘Easily, if you will assist me. Theoret- ically, pracsically too, guard-duty is the moss honorable detail of military service; 80 there’s no reason why you shonldn’s write one of your digaified orders, saying so, and glorifying the duty, and announc- ing that in honor of the coming day the peace and safety of the camp shall be in- trusted entirely to Irishmen. I’ll read the order at dress-parade, in my best style, after which the sergeant-major shall in- struct the first sergeants to detail only Irishmen for to-morrow’s guard.” The Colonel appeared doubtful a mo- ment or two; then he said : ‘Is mightn’s be a bad plan, if we had an Irish captain for officer of the day, and an Irish lieu. enaut for officer of the guard; but for some reason no Irishmen applied for commissions while the regiment was being organized.” ‘“‘True; but there’s a good Irish sergeant for the job—young Harley, who doesn’t drink, and whom you’ve booked for the first vacant lientenancy, ‘Very well, have it your own way. I hope we sha’n’t have to be sorry for it. I suppose I may as well get at the order at once. That feature of the affairshall not lack force.” ‘‘Nor shall is in the reading, unless my tongue has lost its cunning.” The order, when completed, was a clever bit of composition, and the Adjutant, who in civil life bad been a lawyer, read it with fine spirit. The regiment listened atten- sively, for it was rather proud of it’s Col- onel’s rhetorical efforts; but when the pur- pose of the order became evident there were 80 many low yes distinct expressions of disapproval from the ranks thas the Captains turned in amazement and growled “Silence !”” and the lieutenants in the line of file-closers mentally noted the names of some men to be placed in arrest--for talk- ing in the ranks during dress-parade is a military misdemeanor. When the parade was dismissed and the men broke ranks in the company streets there was a wild outburst. These exclama- tions, highly seasoned with profanity, mingled with excited conversations shouted from one company’s street to another, created an uproar that made itself heard as the field-and-staff mess-table, causing the Adjutant to appear apprehensive, and the Colonel to regard the Adjutant reproach- folly. The excitement continued during supper time, and so much longer that the leader of the band, a young lieutenant who knew something about music and bad con- sented to train the band for a few weeks, strolled over to the Adjutant’s but to ask whether it was known at headquarters thas the entire camp was in uproar. “Do we know it?’ shouted the Ad- jutant. “Perhaps you imagine that we don’t even know there’s a war ?”’ The band-master apologized, and the Adjutant explained the situation. The first sergeants already had reported that the Irishmen of their respective companies bad declared bluntly that they would not ‘‘turn out’ for guard duty on St. Patrick’s Day—not even if the commanding general of the army or the Presiden himself de- sired it. The band-master, who was a good fellow, and usually sympathetic when anyone was in trouble, suddenly became so untrue to himself as to smile—almoss to grin—and to assume an air of superiority and condescension. ‘Don’t worry, old chap,’’ said he. ‘The Irish will be all right in the morning, after I’ve got at them.”’ ‘‘You ?"’ exclaimed the Adjutant. ‘What have you to do with it ?”’ ‘‘More than any other man,’’ replied the band-master, his gtin becoming positively offensive. ‘‘You seem to forget that I seleot and direct all music played at gnard- mount and on all other occasions. If I don’t soothe those malcontents before guard-mount is over you may call on me for a box of cigars—the sutler’s best.’’ ‘And if you do,”’ replied the Adjutant soulfully, “I honestly believe that the Colonel, who is pulling out his mustache by the roots, will put a new bar on your shoulder strap as soon as there isa va- cancy.”’ ‘‘Good ! I shall torment you to keep him in mind of it.”’ About eight o’clock on the morning of St. Patrick’s Day, in the camp of the Twin Counties Rifles, one needed not to hear a name or a word to distinguish the Irish members from their comrades, for in every company a few men, dressed a little more neatly than those about them, stood apart and sulked or looked defiantly. Suddenly a bogle sounded; then the first sergeants appeared anxious, and shouted : **First call for guard ! Guard detail, fall in 1”? Some men turned away; others moved carelessly toward their quarters, as if un- certain whether they would get their arms and equipmens. But in an instant the manner of all the malcontents changed, for from the parade ground came the sound of the band playing ‘St. Patrick’s Day in the Mornin’.” In Harley's company—little Harley was to be sergeant of the guard, and he did not enjoy the outlook at all—one man yelled ‘“Whoopoo!’”’ and several others knocked down the men nearest then in the ecstasy of their surprise; then the entire guard de- tail hurried for rifles and belts, alter which they fell into line without further sum- mons. The First Sergeant began the work of preliminary inspection, and such men as were ordered to improve theirappearance obeyed with alaority and cheerfulness. In other companies similar changes of man- ner were noted by captains who stood afar off to see how their sergeants would suec- ceed with the possible muatineers. Soon the bugle sounded the *‘Assembly’’ —the signal to march to the parade- ground. Hardly had the first sergeants in charge of the details shouted ‘“‘Right— face! Forward—march!”’ when the band struck up ‘St. Patrick Was a Gentleman.” In a momens the Adjutant, shivering wretchedly on the parade-ground, was warmed by the spectacle of ten detach- ments emerging from as many company streets, each detachment of proper size, and approaching him with a jaunty, marching swing. He turned his head sharply, and when be saw the Colonel near the flagstaff and in an expectant attitude, he signaled *‘All right!’’ so vigorously with his head that his cap fell off. The line was formed in quicker time than it ever before had heen made by the Twin Counties Rifles—so the Sergeant Major said inan undertone when he re- ported to the Adjutant that the guard de- tails were ‘‘All present.” Then the of- ficerof the guard, who himself expected trouble before the day should end, march- ed gloomily along the front to the center and then twelve paces forward, and the sergeant of the gmard took post four paces behind him, the three corporals formed line four paces in rear of the Ser- geant, and the Adjutant ordered: ‘‘Officer and non-commissioned officers, about—face! Inspect your gnard—march!”’ The guard was brought to ‘open order,” and the most wearisome -duty of guard- mounting began. But the guard did not assume at once the air of weary resignation peculiar to guards under inspection—for the band began to play ‘‘Killarney.”” It also caused the only delays and hitehes of the ceremony, for some of the men be- came 80 oblivious in reverie that they ne- glected to pass their rifles promptly to the inspecting officer when he approached them, and one large and unusually nervous Irishman from Killarney itself acted as if asleep with his eyes open until he was roused by a sharp ‘‘ Well, sir?” When the inspection ended, the signal being given by the officer of the guard taking his post, the new officer of the day, accompanied by his predecessor, and both resplendent in red sashes across their breasts—though the guard agreed to a man that the sashes on that particular day should bave been green—the new officer of the day took his place afew paces in rear of the Adjutant, who then gave the command: ‘‘Parade—rest!”’ Seventy-five right feet moved eight inches backward and at right angles with seventy-five feet left, seventy-five rifle-bar- rels inclined leftward and were clasped by one hundred and fifty white gloved bands direotly in front of their owners’ hearts, and the Adjutant, looking toward the band, ordered: ‘‘Troop—beat off!” A rattle of drums, a crash of cymbals, a blare of brass-wind, and the band, moving from the right and wheeling, marched down to the left and back again, playing all the while''The Bold Soldier Boy’’ to the best of its ability. Like statues the guardsmen stood during this detail of the ceremony ; bus when the Adjutant shouted ‘‘Atten-tion!”’ the movemens, slight in it- eelf, nevertheless was as spirited as the first step of a dash at the enemy. When they beard the command ‘‘Shounlder— arms’ the seventy-five rifies found heir places with a single click; ‘‘Close order —march!” and the ranks were closed ; ¢‘Present—arms!’’ another single click and each man’s rifle was in front of him. The Adjutant faced about, saluted the officer of the day, and announced that the guard was formed. The officer of the day re- turned the salute and said: *‘March in review!” The guard, breaking into two platoons, wheeled to the right; the band also wheel- ed; the Adjutant shouted: ‘‘Forward— march!’ It was the old, old thing; it had been dove daily, rain or shine, Sunday or week-day, in the camp of the Twin Counties Rifles and of every other regiment of the service ever since the regiments came into existence. Yet in a few seconds there was a difference--to the guard—for the band began to play ‘Garryowen.’ Good wheeling, by a detachment of any size, is the rarest achievement of soldiers in motion. Yet the Adjutant, who marched at the right of the firs platoon, and the Sergeant-Major, who accompanied the second platoon, agreed that never be- fore had any guard of the Twin Counties Rifles wheeled so perfectly. The platoons bad to wheel twice, first to the right, then 60 the left, yet as they passed in review the new officer of the day said from under the right of his mustache to the old officer of the day that the Irishmen were as per- feotly aligned as if they were toeing the crack of a floor, and asif the guard im- agined that the President of the United States, all the crowned heads of Europe and the ghosts of all the Irish kings were at the reviewingstand. According to Army Regulations, the band should have left the line of march soon after the last platoon bad passed in review. But the band-master in front was thinking solely of the possible promotion suggested by the Adjutant, and of the one way of earning it, so mentally he sent the highest written authority to the rear, and still-playing ‘‘Garryowen’’led the way to the guard-house and pass the old guard. That sleepy, soiled, shabby-looking body were 80 impressed by his unusual demonstration that they pulled themselves together and presented arms in the best parade manner. No sooner had the officer of the new guard wished his predecessor ‘Good riddance!" and received ‘‘Good luck!” in return, than one of the several Irishmen who chanced to be in the old guard roared: ‘‘Three cheers for the band—an’ its lead- er—an’ Garryowen—an’ Oireland !’’ Three great roars escaped from them. The noise of the cheering, which was re- peated several times, in honor of St. Pat- rick and other noted Irishmen, reached headquarters, and the Colonel dashed out with fire in his eye and a pistol in his hand to suppress the supposed mutiny by call- ing out the entire regiment if ‘necessary. Bat when he met the Adjutant and learned the truth he strode on to the guard-house and mads a short speech which compelled every man of them to believe for the re- mainder of his life that the Colonel had Irish blood in his veins. When he re- turned to his quarters he took the band- master with bim, plamped the young man into a ohairand ordered a servant to bring in glasses and a decanter. For the remainder of theday the camp- guard of the Twin Counties Rifles was a model of appearance, deportment and effio- ienoy. Its aspect and manner compelled the attention of the field officer of the day when he visited the regiment, and he said so so the Colonel, who thereupon told of the pe- caliar manner in which the gnard had been formed, aud carefully neglected to inti- mate that the plan was not of his own de- vising. The field officer of the day told the story to the division commander, who was so as- tonished that he rode down to the Twin Counties camp, and around the entire line, and spoke to each sentry, making each as proud as if the great Brian Bora himself was the common ancestor of the lof of them. The division commander afterw ard complimented the Colonel on his shrewd- ness; the Adjutant was present, and heard it all withous even raising an eyebrow, and the Colonel gave him a grateful wink for his loyal silence and composure, and the Adjutant looked “Didn’s I tell you so?” at the Colonel, when the division com- mander promised to make a special and commendatory report to corps headquart- ers, with the suggestion that so tactful an officer deserved command of a brigade. Little Sergeant Harley was too good a soldier not to keep his men well in baud, on a day of so many possibilities. Bat just as the blankets were being spread on the guard- house floor, and Har- ley was gazing placidly at the stars above him and thanking his own stars, there came out of the darkness Larry Bagglety, and with him a zephyr that seemed first to have wandered through several distil- leries. ; ‘Tis a great day for Oireland, Ser- geant.”’ “Right you are, Larry.” ‘“An’ tis the fine gyard ye have.’ ‘True for you Larry. ’Tis as fine a one as this regiment, or any other regiment, eyes saw, and I'm proud tobe sergeant of it. *‘An’ do ye remember the day, Sar- gins, whin we wor orossin’ Blue Creek under fire?” ‘‘And when you dragged me out when I fell, and kept me from being drowned? Do you suppose I ever shall forget it? You saved my life that day, Larry.”’ ‘‘Don’t mention it! What's a little thing like that, between Oirishmen? Bus seenin’ ye remember it, Oi’ll be askin’ ye to do abit of kindness by me.” As he paused for reply, Larry took something from inside his blouse, held it up to Har- ley’s face, and continued, in a hoarse whisper: “Shmell of that! Do ye rec- ognize it ?"? ‘Whisky! ejaculated Harley with a shudder. * ‘That is it, an’ the rale stuff too. Oi've had a quart of it hid in the pillow of me bunk ever since Christmas, awaitin’ for this blessed day. Well, Oi’m full of it— full up to me chin, an’ Oi’'m that glad that I was on guard yesterday instead of to-day, an’ Oi’m that sorry for ye an’ the other boys, that Oi want ye to take a sup with me, an’ offer a mouthful to the Lif- tining, ifye like to be so bold, an’ thin let the rest of the guard wet their lips and warm their souls. St. Patthrick was only born oncea year. Ye'll do it—that Oi know. Now Oi’m off.” Harley had not tasted liquor twenty times in his life; bot suddenly he found himself wishing that he had great capacity for alcohol, for the more he could absorb from she bottle in his hand the less tronble would the stuff cause in the guard. Had the liquor and the charge been given to him by anyone but Larry Bagglety he would have tossed the bottle across the road into the stubble-field. But the com- 1ade who has saved one’s life outranks al- most everyone and everything else, as any eoldier knows, and the remembrance of Such service will make the best of them willing to transgress any and every rule of Sm good order and military discipline to favor his benefactor. Harley deviscd and rejected a dozen plane in his effort to comply with bis pre- server’s wishes, yet not be untrue to his own sense of duty. After two or three hours of effort, he muttered to himself: ‘*There’s une way out of it, though it makes me feel like a sneak to think of it. Larry told me to offer a mouthful to the officer of the guard. I'll doit, and sell the story. The officer probably will for- bid the thing going any further, and to make sure of it, he’ll take the bottle in charge. Here goes!” The officer of the guard, a lank but able lieutenant who had fought toa draw with several different forms of malaria,and there- fore had constitutional longing for whas- ever might be strengthening or even stimu- lating, was found in his den in the guard- house, sleepily killing time over a game of solitaire. He listened to the Sergeant's story; was thoughtful; smelled the liquor; became somewhat animated; smelled the liquor again— *‘I hope, sir, that it won’t get Bagglety into trouble,’’ said Hariey, as the Lieut. placed the hottle to his lips and the liquor began to gurgitate, “for he once saved my life.’ *‘Ah 1"? the Lieutenant sighed lingering- ly. “I believe he bas saved my life too. What splendid stuff this is ! "Tis Irish whisky—just the thing for St. Patrick’s Day. I wish you’d learn from him where he boughs it. I didn’t suppose that any sutler in the army sold anything so good.’ The Lieut. again tasted the contents of the bottle, and continued : ‘‘Saved your life, eh ? He must bea good fellow, for he’s saved mine too—saved it twice in a single evening. Still, to bring whisky to a guard-house, to be offered to men who may be called to duty at any moment, why,”’ here he raised the bottle and regarded it critically, ‘‘I really ought to lay the case before the officer of the day.” “I beg that you won’t, sir. I’ll warn Larry never to do such a thing again. He knows no bester. He's a simple-minded fellow, and did it only through kindness of heart. Is really was self-sacrifice on his part too, for he: might have saved the li- quor for his own use at some future time.’ “What ? An Irishman save whisky ?” ‘Yes, sir; he’s been saving the bottle from which that came ever since Christ- mas.” ‘Great Cesar !| What a grip the fellow must have on his thirst! I don’t believe be ever can have had malaria. Now, I'm not what’s called a drinking man, bus I never was able to save whiskey. It has been exactly the other way; whisky al- ways has bad to save me—and right now is one of its chances.’’ So saying, the officer raised the hottle to his lips and turned the bottom high in air. ‘‘That being the case,” persisted the Sergeant, ‘‘and your life having been saved once more this evening, within a moment, by the indiscretion of my comrade, mayn’t I hope that you won’t lay the case hefore the officer of the day 2" The Lieutenant assumed a judicial air, held the bottle upside down, looked at it as if it was a witness to be interrogated, and replied : ‘‘Sergeant, you may, for there’s no case remaining to lay before him. It may bave been very selfish of me; bus that’s not to the point. ~ Youn may re- pors to your friend that his liquor was con- sumed by the guard, according to his re- quest; but warn him never again to be so indiscreet—unless his whisky is of this same quality and I chance to be officer of the guard.” The upshot of the ease was that the Col- onel of the Twin Counties Rifles was ap- pointed Brigadier-General, and the Ad- jutant became Major, and the band-master was promoted, and Sergeant Harley got a lieutenanoy, while the officer of the guard, who saved his men from temptation, did not get even a headache.—By John Habher- ton, in Sunday Magazine for March 19th, 905. : Bringing Gilant Bees From India. The Government is about to establish a model apiary at the Arlington Experimen- tal Farm, across the Potomac from Wash- ington. Various races of honey-getting bees will be kept there for experimental purposes, among them one or more colonies of the so-called ‘‘giant bees’ of India, which specially and for the first time will be imported into this counsry. These giant bees, one species of which is found in the Philippines, are much larger than the little honey-gatherers to which we are accustomed. They are plentiful in India, and though they never have been domesticated, enormous quantities of their combs a: e collected, chiefly for wax, which is an article of considerable export from thas county. One may see tons of it stored in ware houses at Calcutta and other sea- ports. These are forest bees, dwelling in the wild woods. They do not live in hives, bus suspend their huge combs from limbs of lofty trees. The natives are exceedingly afraid of them, telling incredible tales of their ferocity, and even narrating instances whereswarms of the insects have attacked villages and killed many people. Neverl theless, for the sake of gain, professiona bee-hunters are engaged regularly in the occupation of robbing the honey-makers of their stored sweets. The bee-hunter in India wears no olothing except a breech-cloth, and lack- ing a bee-veil or other protection, he uses stratagem. Having located a comb, he climbs the tree—or perhaps itis a lofty ledge of rock from which the comb bangs —and holds a long stick with a bunch of- ignited leaves on the end of it in such a way that the smoke will drive ous the bees. The latter rise in a cloud into the air about the comb, while the robber cuts it away and lowers it to the ground gently with the help of a rope. Notwithstanding the supposed ferocity of these giant bees, there is no doubt that they can be handled easily and safely by persons who understand the business. How far they may be susceptible of domestica- tion remains to be ascertained, bus in any event, if introduced in our semi-tropical forests, they would furnish considerable orops of the finest and most valuable wax. The drones, or males, strange to say, are no larger than an ordinary bees, and it is likely that they would mate with the fe- males of species already acclimated here, producing new and useful varieties. One important reason why it is desired to introduce these bees from India is that they have much longer tongues than our bees, and so could get honey from many kinds of flowers which, like redolover, have corolla tubes so deep that most of their sweets are beyond reach of the species now domesticated in the United States. If this neotar, which now goes to waste, can be gathered by the imported insects, it is so much olear gain. The subject is one in which all bee-keepers, whose industry is one of great importance in this country, have good reason to be keenly interested. The apiaries on the Arlington Farm will be a breeding station for various races of bees. Queen bees of Cancasian Cyprian, Dalmatian, Italian and Carniolan races will be specially imperted for propagating purposes, with a view to the improvement of varieties. Within the last few years science has taken up the business of im- proving the honey bee, particularly in re- spect to its capacity for honey-gathering, though also in 1elation to gentleness of temper (an important point to the bee- keeper), and bees of various stocks have been brought from abroad and orossed with those on this side of the water. It is a carious fact, not widely realized perbaps, that there were no bees in Amer- ica until the seventeenth century, when they were brought from Germany. These first importations were of the common, black variety, now found all over the United States, which are so fierce as to be difficult to handle and control. A$ the present time bee-keepers select their bees as carefully as farmers do cattle, each stock having its special merits. The Cyprians (from the island of Cyprus) are wonderful honey-getters, but somewhat irritable. The Italian bees are exceedingly docile and prolific. One gets a notion of the impootance of the bee-keeping industry from the fact that during the last year four contiguous coun- ties in ene State turned out no less than four million pounds of honey. The rais- ing of queens in itself has become a large business, and one Texas woman sells more than two thousand of them in a year. For raising queen bees miniature hives are em- ployed—little wooden boxes, in which is put a handful of working bees, a bit of honeycomb, and a single queen not yes emerged. Inasmuch as an ordinary hive will produce from a dozen to three hundred queen-bearing cells each season, it isa simple task to detach them from the brood comb and use them in the manner describ- ed The queens sell for from two to five dollars apiece. Queer: bees propagated in the manner described are sent by mail all over she world—even as far as from this country to Australia. In the same way workers and drones are shipped as samples. The pack- age used for the purpose consists of a little wooden box about four inches long, which is a patented invention. It basa compart. ment for the insect, and another for a piece of candy, which, placed within reach of the bee, suffices for food. Formerly bees were not permitted to enter this country from abroad free of duty, but now they are per- mitted to come in as ‘‘animals imported for breeding purposes.’’ In Central and South America there are stingless bees, which are cousins of the true honey bees, being grouped zoologically between the latter and the humblebees. They make excellent honey, which, though less sweet than that to which we are ac- oustomed, has an aromatic perfume and a delicious flavor of its own. Since pre- historic times they have been domesticated and kept in earthen jars and hollowed logs of wood, and such hives at the present day are commonly hung from verandas in the tropics. The honey is not stored in hex- agonal cells, but in wax bags as large as pigeon’s eggs, hung around the inside of the receptacle. On account of their lack of stings, it has been deemed desirable to introduce these bees into the United States; bus the plan has proved impracticable owing to the fact that they cannot bear the climate. They belong to the tropics exclusively. A New Type of Cow-Mllking Blachime. To construet the perfect milking ma- chine has been the ambition of many in- ventors. In the records of she patent of- fice at Washington may be found hun- dreds of the attempts to solve the problem. These are the results of patient thought and labor by men in nearly all of the walks of life, but principally by farmers, dairymen, engineers, and scientists. Many of these inventions show great ingenuity and some are fairly practical notwithstand- ing the more or less slight defects that they exhibit, One of the great advantages of the milk- ing machine is that it supplies an exceeding ly important but missing link in the chain of the sanitary transmission of milk from the cow to the consumer. Unless the most rigorous conditions of cleanliness prevail, band-milking is a danger point in even the best of modern dairying processes. In using the mechanical milker, the milk passes directly from the cow into a closed receptacle, and the danger of the entrance of bacteria into it from the hands or cloth- ing of the operator is, of course, entirely obviated. It isself-evident that in hand- milking the danger that the milk may be- come infected by disease germs from the person of the milker, is ever present. And, should the person in question be a snfferer from tuberculosis or some other infectious disease, the danger is enormoutly aggra- vated. Besides adding this safeguard, the successful milking machine must fulfill two further conditions—it must decrease the time necessary entirely to extract the milk, and it must make the operation less troublesome to the animal. One of the latest of these machines has been invented by Loomis Burrell, of Little Falls, N. Y. It isclaimed that in his in- vention, Mr. Barrell has succeeded in de- signing a machine that fulfills the con- ditions described above, and one that has overcome the defects that are found in nearly all of the machines' hitherto con- structed. Reputable investigators fully substantiate this statement. The follow- ing is a brief description of the vperatien of the machine. When suction is applied to the milk pail or vessel, a piston-valve moves slowly up and down in its cylinder and produces pulsations in the milk and air tubes con- nected therewith. These pulsations take place insuch a manner that when the suction is applied to the milk-pipesand through the same to the internal compart- ments or spaces of the flexible linings of the teat-cups, the external air is admitted to the air-pipes and through the same to the external compartments of the teat-cups outside of the linings, thereby applying the suction to the teats within the linings and at the same time applying external air-pressure to the outer sides of the lin- ings. In this manner the teats are squeezed at the same time that the snotion is applied to them. When the suction is cus off from the milk-pipes and the in- ternal space of the cup-linings, the suction 18 applied to the air-pipes and the outer sides of the cup-linings, and thus the lin- ings are drawn away from the teats against the shells of the cups, and the teats are allowed to hang nearly free in them. The vacuum in the linings is re- lieved quickly when the suction is ous off by the air entering the milk-pipes through the connector. In this manner pulsations are produced simultaneously in- side and outside of the cup-linings, the operation alternating in such a manner that when the suction is applied to the interior of the lining to draw the milk from the teats, the external air is admitted to the exterior of the lining to squeeze the teats; and when the suction is applied to the ex- terior of the linings to draw the latter away from the teats, the external air is admitted to the interior of the linings to break the vacuum therein and quickly relieve the teats from the suction. The linings are in this manner positively moved both inward- ly and outwardly, and sharp and effective pulsations are produced. When the suec- tion has been relieved on the milk-pipes and the lining has been drawn away from the teat, the cup nevertheless stays on the teat, partly because a slight vacuum re- mains in the interior space of the lining and partly because the flexible mouthpiece of the cop holds the latter on the teat after thecup has once been drawn up to the place thereon. The reciprocating movement of the piston valve is effected by a reversing-valve and an exhaust chamber and diaphragm. The milk-pipes are partly of glass, to show whether the flow of milk is constant, and enable the operator to control the working of the machine. The Human Stomach. The stomach proper has ceased to be a serious problem to the surgeon,says Samuel N. Adams in McClure’s Magazine. He can even, if circumstances demand, relieve the owner of it entirely, and so arrange the loose ends that the functions of nutrition are successfully maintained. To be sure, the patient can never thereafter derive much pleasure from his meals; but he must restrict himself to a rigid diet; hus for all the other affairs of life he may be as com- petent as before. There are, to-day, sev- eral stomachless men who are earning their daily predigested ration in occupations varying from clerk to expressman. A common stomach ailment, and one which in the long ran often preves fatal, is gastric ulcer. About ninety per cens. of these ulcers occur near the end of the stom- ach, where it opens into the smaller in- testine. When healed the sore leaves a scar which contracts the walls of the stom- ach, narrowing in the exit and thus causing disturbances ranging from slighs discomfor$ to poisoning and death. In serious cases the method of treatment has been to cus out the ulcer or scar—a complicated and dangerous resource because of the proximity to the solar plexus, which (as every one knows, since Mr. Fitzsimmons operated upon Mr. Corbett at Carson City for the removal of a championship belt) is a nerve centre highly susceptible to shook. Several years ago a German surgeon named Wolfler contrived an operation which is nothing more nor less than a skill- ful plumbing device. He cus a holein the stomach in front of the ulcer, clipped off the smaller intestine, and spliced the two together with a Murphy button, leaving the ulcer to take care of itself. This pro- cess short-circuited the food romte. The ulcer, relieved of irritation from the pass- ing over of food, soon healed; the resultant contraction didn’t matter because the old exit was now out of commission, and the system of plumbing promptly took its place among recognized useful operations, A record of twenty-five cases operated on pre- vious to 1875 for ulcers and strictures of the stomach shows a result of twenty-five deaths. Now the process is not regarded as dangerous. What a long-suffering receptacle the human stomach may be is shown in the ‘case of a young man named Fasel, who went to St. Luke’s hospital, Brooklyn, in 1900 and asked to be operated on for in- digestion. *‘Nonsense,’’ said the house snrgeon. ‘‘We don’t operate for indigestion. What bave you been eating that basn’t agreed with you ?”’ “I think it was the brass watch chain. but it may bave been the horse shoe nails,’ said the patiens. After locating a mass of foreign sub- stances with the X-ray, they opened him and listed the following miscellany : Six hairpins, two horse shoe nails, eleven two- an-a-half-inch wire nails,one two-inch wire nail, two door keys, two steel watch chains, one brass watch chain, one imitation dia- mond finger ring, and a hundred and twen- ty-nine pins. In a month he was back at the dime museum. Four years later his stomach again rebelled, and the surgeon found the following evidence that he had made alter- ations in his diet : Six knives, one door name?’ ‘My name is Robin.” replied the key, one desk key, four Yale keys, one bird, chirping to greet the Dawn. Then gold plated watch chain, one key-ring | Dawn came softly and kissed he Robin ohain, fourteen wire nails, one button: | upon its breast. When Robin wens that hook, four horse shoe nails and two pins. day to drink from a pool of water he saw Fasel was broken in health and declared thas his breast was a beautiful red, where his intention of giving np his freak trade. Dawn had touched him with her lips. And ohh ever since then all the robins have had a red breast on their gray coats to show that they are the descendants of so brave a fore- Legend of the Red Breast. Ages ago, when the world was very young, a long winter came upon the earth. The trees loss their leaves and the sap ran low. The flowers faded and perished. All the birds flew far away, In those days the seasons were not so well disciplined as they arenow. Spring tarried in the South and would not come back to drive old Winter away. Every morning when Dawn came up out of the mysterious East he looked sadly over the bare and barren earth. ‘‘Spring not here yet?’’ he would sigh. Then the trees would shake their tops and the wind would whistle, ‘Nos yet.’ Days, weeks and months passed, and Dawn grew sadder and sadder as Spring refused to resurn. Then one day he sent South Wind as a messenger to Spring, beg- ging her to come and send the Winter away. ‘“‘Why should I come?’’ replied the fickle Spring. “‘I am comfortable here in this land with the birds and the flowers. Why should I go back to that frozen coun- ° try, where I must fight for my right?’ South Wind returned to Dawn with the answer. It was sad news, but Dawn did not give up. “Go,” said he to South Wind, ‘‘and beseech each flower and bird to come back; for if Spring learns that even one of them is here in the cold she will feel sorry, and basten to his resome.’”’ So South Wind went from bird to bird, bus all were content to stay where they were. At lass he spoke to a little gray bird called Robin: ‘‘Will you go with me to a cold country in the North, ‘where everybody is longing for a sign of Spring?’’ ‘*Yes,’’ replied the Robin, *‘if I can be of use I will go.” So the robin flew over the bleak fields and the frozen rivers ill he reached the land of which South Wind had told him. Here Robin sat alone on a bare bough while the piercing winds taunted him and ruffled his little gray coat. In the morning Dawn came up from the mysterious East. ‘‘Ah!"” he cried. ‘Brave little bird, come to me! What is your ——Aftera man has tried every way to make a man lose his money he can always hire a lawyer. father.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers