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.