The Husbandman.
of man the bounteous mother,
“Fog him still with corn and wine;
He who best would aid a brother,
Shares with him these gifts divine.
Many a power within her bosom,
Nolseldss, blaen, works bepeath.
nu gre and leaf and blossom,
Golden ear and cluster’d wreath.
These to swell with strength and beauty
Is the royal task of man;
Man's a king, his throne is duty,
Since his work on earth began.
Bud and harvest, bloom and vintage—
These, ike man, are fruits of earth,
Stamp'd in clay, a heavenly vintage,
All from dust receive their birth,
Barn and mill, and wine-vat's treasures,
Earthly goods for earthly lives;
These are Nature's ancient pleasures—
These her child from her derives.
What the dream, but vain rebelling,
If from earth we sought to flee?
*Tis our stored and ample dwelling—
*Tis from it the skies we see.
Wind and frost, and hour and season,
Land and water, sun and shade,
Work with these, as bids thy reason,
For thy work thy teil to aid.
Sow thy seed, and reap in gladness!
Man himself is all a seed;
Hope and hardship, joy and sadness—
Slow the plant to ripeness lead.
IE RSET
A FUGUE.
and mid June,
rectory-garden, and their luscious scent
not see because the red-and-white awn-
ing is let down over the study-window.
Datherine and Evelyn Lascelles, his
daughters,
girl with fleecy, golden hair; Evelyn
wears her brown locks in a crop. Nature
has given them a persistent wave, and
whe barber cuts them short.
ul dressing does she give to her head be-
prder, or rather always a picturesque
disorder in her locks.
The girls have been talking
aoons. Their conversation
fire, in the deep-brown orbs of Evelyn.
She throws herself full length on the
bamboo reclining-chair by the window,
ter.
Evelyn says: *‘It is wholly immaterial
lo me!’’ She is 18, and some indescriba-
ble expression on her face gives the lie
to her haughty words. ‘I
move an inch! He comes, he
all one. And it is not all
Here the soft fire in her eyes takes a
flash, and becomes a sparkling fire,
“In the sense you would put upon it,
it is all one,” replies Cathie the elder by
one year; ‘‘but it is not all one if
look at it from ny point of view. It
may be very fine for young Gerald
Wickham to come here, but it is not
very fine that he should make love to
the rector’'s daughters at once,
[hat is what people say——"'
“Indeed! They make no mark be-
tween the two daughters?”’
Evelyn would be careless,
cannot act the part.
“How can they? They only see us all
in public, 1 wish aunt would send over
for mel”
“* As if you need wait for the sending!
3
toa 11
Sill
O88]
one t
vou
vou
Hoth
but she
Gerald can follow yi re,’
*Can! Yes! Will No.”
“Take care!” cries Evelyn.
Ang at the instant there comes, min-
gling with the scent of the roses, another
perfume, that of tobacco.
Gerald Wickham, the squire’s son,
from the Priory, lifts the red striped
awning.
And Evelyn lies languid, playing with
a huge red Japanese fan: the color has
all .gone for a moment out of her face,
while he lazily leans against the frame
of the French-window by which he has
come in. Cathie’s color heightens one
degree—the smallest degree. He is
nothing to her; but she is angry that he
will make love to her, he for whom Eve-
iyn is wearing out her fiery soul.
He is quite honest; he does not know
yet which girl he likes best. He plays |
with both, but his nature—hus lighter |
nature—wants the pride, the ambition,
the fiery purposing of Evelyn's to make
him a successful man, Will he find this |
out, or will he play on, and in the end
think that gentler Cathie *‘best,’” simply |
because he will have stung Evelyn into |
some bitter revolt against him?
He has nearly an hour of flirtation, if
you please to call it by such an ugly
word, But he is so bright and gay, he
s taking the world to be a very good
hing indeed, his future squireship is
such a comfortable one, he is the very
:ulmination of optimism-—why not talk
‘or an hour with two such nice girls as
the rector’s daughters?
Cathie thinks she knows why not.
She slips out of the room, and puts some
needful gear into a black bag, and goes
down to the aunt who keeps house for
ithe rector. Then she signifies her in- |
tention of going over to Aunt Mary's
for a day or two.
Mrs. Symons knows that Mary always |
wants the girl, and both girls always do |
just as they like, so she merely says: |
“Very well, dear.”’
And now we see Cathie standing at
the rectory gate. Better, far better, to |
fly for a few days, for a week even, if
only Gerald will in the interval come to
his senses,
Something strikes the
doing a strange thing. Her visit is not
strange—no, that might happen any
day, use Aunt Mary, who is wife to
the doctor in Pucksleigh village, half an
hour's walk along by the canal and the
meadows, is more truly mother-like to
these girls than is the other aunt, who
pas lived with them for so many years,
No, there is no strangeness in going over
there for a day or two, but is there not
bY mastering or commanding of
late in what she has taken for the reason
of her action,
This thought makes her grave. She
foes not feel the sweet evening coolness
that comes acroks the shining canal
waters; sie does not see the fair white,
. and blue, and gold meshings of flowery
. and reedy things that fringe the bank;
he does not hear the cheep and twitter
of the waterfowl hidden in those rushy
— en s——
nests, No; and when she has walked
for the half hour she pays no heed to a
whisle that is directed towards her; she
feels none of the reddening western light
that is pouring over her head, and mak-
ing of her such a szuny bit of fairness
no, she is simply absorbed in her
thoughts,
She certainly does not see Aunt Mary
wave back the author of that very pro-
nounced whistle,
Chris, or Christopher Landon, the
doctor's pupil, or assistant, or deputy,
whichever you will, must keep out of
sight, so Aunt Mary decrees,
Ah, she is a wise woman! She has the
intuitive eyes of motherhood; she sees
that Cathie, with her bag, has not come
over to Pucksleigh without a reason,
And so, alone, she comes out across the
pretty, unkempt, daisy-bestarred lawn
to greet the girl and to hear her story.
It is soon told.
A whole week runs by, and a couple
of pressing messages have gone over
from Aunt Mary to her brother, the
rector, to beg for Cathie a bit longer.
What his women folk desire, good Mr.
Lascelles also desires, so there is a sec-
ond week running by with Evelyn
alone.
Alone, do we say?
Not at all that.
One cannot go from the Priory to
Pucksleigh without passing the rectory,
tomed to water at the rectory founts.
Perhaps the impassioned eyes—girls
cannot always set a calm veil over their
passion—of Evelyn declare their beauty
He always stops there and
never gets to Pucksleigh,
the fact that no such intention
He is sure which girl is *‘best’’ now.
Evelyn is “‘best’’ the most perfect girl,
cet, dreamy way. Evelyn
some flery words of scorn about his aim-
less, pleasure-loving, empty life, and,
at the Priory.
and, like a tacit reproach to his own do-
upon hurrying over port wine and straw-
berries, He is up to the ears in
before the morrow; he has this and that
to do. And telling it all as by habit to
his son, he little thinks what purposes
he is driving into that son's, as yet,
irresponsible personality, Ie goes away
to his den, and Gerald lights a cigar and
saunters out over the quaint old pleas-
ance with his collie at his heels,
A young
many ways. Gerald may somewhat
displeased with the reproving world in
which he suddenly finds himself, he may
ith his own
or lack of actions. We do not
dive into the mystery
he is perhaps a thoroughly
tr: honest-souled individual,
and as such may not reward our search,
However, he smokes out a second cigar,
and he finds himself at what he is
pleased to consider a logical econclusi
to one division of a multiform difficulty,
He will marry Evelyn Lascelles! °
he'll tamvel a while, hon
t all
tiie mo
turned
are
man’s fancies
. be
be somewhat dissatisfied Ww
actions,
of his
ther
ASN
retTioral of i
general eeciion
“Hey! Prest
“and is all this
the 5
“Assurediv!’
srald
the end of
it Gerald
He then
looking
th grizzled,
along by his
lower-beds, ean hands are loosely
together behind bis back, the
OOS taps of his clerical coat are
quaintly opposed to the severe, thin, dry
character of his physical self. He is
either controlling or watching a girl in
her morning gardening-a girl who
nan, wi
walking
1
1
clasped
3
i
flapping willow hat.
A lilac bush, full
age may screen him, and Gerald chooses
to be s0 screened; it does not enter into
his masterful plans that he should see
the rector in any way but one that day,
How the dear rector dallies among
the roses! But he goes in at last, and
Gerald then clicks the latch of the little
Enough, By-and-by he walks into
the study, and he has that interview
have,
And another evening comes when he
tete, The squire, good old man, is
magistrates have had a full time of it,
nap, and heedless of the restless vivacity
of his son and heir.
But Gerald rules the hour, Suddenly
his easy, happy-go-lucky nature finds a
persistent masterfulness within, and
He tells the
squire that he has ‘won his wife,"
“No-—hey! Well, that's right, my
boy. And who may she be?”
The squire nods his head roguishiy,
Blass of
“Maybe I have a guess.
port,
“Miss Lascelles.’
Gerald is loftily cool.
The squire smacks his knee; he has
turned, and sits sideways in his coms
fortable everyday habit, .
“Good-—good!” he ejaculates half to
himself. “Which one, though? They
hy"
“They! Who are they?’ and Gerald
at once feels wrathful at any “they”
da tospeak of him or his,
“Walcott, of Bray, and Daly, and"
“Bah!” contemptuously. ‘‘Itis Miss
Evelyn Lascelles, I wonder you talk of
private concerns withsuch men as those!”
“Miss Evelyn? Ha-—hum!”’ rather
doloriously, “My good sir'’—the squire
rouses, ‘‘those are all very good men-
very good men, indeed. Walcott is
older than we are in the county, mind
you 1"
“What may they have chosen to say
of me?"
The young man has walked from his
seat to the window, but here he comes
back again, rests his two hands on the
back of his chair, looking at his father
with a laughable deflance in his blue
eyes, but after a second or two seats
himself. Clearly, the situation calls for
tragic demonstration,
“Why, the place pairs you and the
other young lady; the fair one—Miss
Cathie!”
‘““The place is wrong, then!”
Simultaneously with this Evelyn and
her aunt talk of the same subject from
their feminine point of view. Strange
though it may seem, at the very hour
when the squire is enlightening his son
with the public opinion of the county,
Mrs. Symons is giving to Evelyn her
private opinion, which concurs with
that of the public,
Some women are idiots—blind, foolish
rousers of evil passions, destroyers of
peace, and all with the best ‘‘inten-
tions.”’
Evelyn is dazed for a moment. Then
she gathers together her forces, and slips
away to bed. But—you have had a
hint of her fiery, passionate nature—she
is wild. She has given her love; she has
been played with—she sees it all now,
No doubt Gerald has been haunting
Pucksleigh, and no doubt he takes her
because Cathie will have none of
Plainly, she is bereft of her senses,
She lies awake all night, and in
the gift of a lover back to her!
The morning wakes and she goes,
No, Gerald, though, has been
Cathie has had a ““heavenly time”
Aunt Mary is glad to have
under her wing just now, for she knows
is getting astir in its deeper
Pucksleigh, as a hamlet, drones on as
it seems to have droned since prehistoric
times, and its future has no apparent
the present,
is her own house, the
knows that a drama of
its climax.
Her husband, the doctor, had a pupil,
who is no longer a pupil, but works
with the doctor
An open-browed young man is Christo-
pher Landon; he has but lately come
back Pucksleigh from winning his
M. D.. and he elects for a year to work
on with his old master and friend, while
him for a prac-
doctor's house,
life is
LO
3 tra 5 1 .
he looks quietly about
He stands alone in the
has treated him kindly, :
he inherits has never hel
temptation towards idle:
a race of doctors, and
tered by the people among whom
nm up. He is a i
looks forward will
1 TOR i f
£1
t bef
has grown
he
or the
Mw
vista
spread, 8
When he :
from over the meadow,
} sll. he whist]
sees Ci
ows het
hris draws back, ™ :
hought. He had wished
for Cathie alone! That means one thing;
and Chris is manly and true, a
that moment he
ened thought
his first sword,
clasps his latel)
boy knight
He hasa
in purity
as a
treasure
and brs
the
illage parlance he
girl's lover! »
gentleman
ly
uifeiy a
would do
Aunt Mary bid him
him give
ings, she is
vy. even by a
Knows
The doctor and
‘God speed!” but also }
Cathie time, AS they sex
not a girl to be wor 3
man she Ki well as she
Christopher Land
NO days run on
time. and Cathie
cause of her flight, because,
her is becoming steeped in the
sweetest rest she can know; for, one
evening, Chris speaks some words in her
quiet, brave, manly words they
and she, flushing rosy red under
OWS
as
Weel summer-
to forget the
unwittingly,
grows
soul
are
them, is in an unclouded paradise,
They are to
walk together along the valleys and hills
And he is satisfied with the still
answer,
It is the evening when, under the
same radiant sunset, Gerald and Evelyn
are thinking of her—Cathie.
The morning comes, There is a sea
of harmony floating about her—serenest,
divinest content, All is, if may
speak, like one burst of grand majesttic
monotone,
Have you never heard many voices.
singing free from
ane Wy
almost godlike power?
But they are flying to
meadows, and by the
canal's banks. Burdened with the dis-
come, each bringing a surging, angry
tumult into the grand
peace!
garden paths join in a surrounding
rive,
The flight is over. No one runsaway
any moreno one seeks to fly any more,
Again we borrow from the ways of old
music; all discords, all the fine,
sweet melodies, all the quaint fancies
are gathered together, and march in
simplest grandeur of finale, The har-
mony is perfect; one would shout a cry
of victory on the sound of the first crea-
tive theme,
Christopher, coming out of the dim-
ness of the doctor’'sdoorway, is drawing
a white-clad girl along with him. The
irl is Cathie, and she, smiling up at
im, is saying something one not
hear.
At the moment two figures meet be-
fore their Chris draws Cathie's
hand within bis arm.
“We are going to the rector,” says
Chris “Turn back with us.”
Tie man whose negligence drives
his fowls, for the satisfying of their
thirst, to the snowdrift or vile gutter,
is worse than Pharaoh, if he demand er
expect eggs.
“A Man as Was Wronged.”
m—
If it had been a pleasant day, and if
we hadn’t all been out of sorts with our
luck, we should have had a word of
welcome for the stranger as he entered
our camp that wretched afternoon, As
Trail at Dead Man's Elbow and walk
into our camp, and never a man rose up
to salute him,
The stranger seemed to expect just
such a reception, That is, he
seem a bit surprised,
Riches,
pine tree, and without once looking
around him he staked off a claim and
began to erect a shanty.
“Bad man, I'm afeared,” growled
the squint,
“Bin bounced out of some camp fur
stealin’,”’
tucky.
“Tell you, he's got a hang-dog look,’
put in the man known as “Ohio Bill.”
Every man in the camp was down on
the fresh arrival, and that
cause,
us
the devil was to pay.
ging to camp had strayed off and
on ti
4 he
» + + .
ement that we had only salt enough to
BUZAL
{ i
last two days, Willie the
tirely gone,
RO We Were cross-grained
, and it
that he gave
was lucky for the stranger
pick a quar-
rel, The day was bright and fair,
and if it hadn't been for Judge Slasher
i pone over and
woulda
manners and the
sorts
1s Ho cause Lo
next
some of us have
excused our asked
borly: but the Judge said:
“He's a bad un, he is,
by the
Fust thing
.
I Kin
we know a committee will
come along here and gobble him up fur
robbery or murder,”
Two weeks had passed, and while
”
had struck
“good morning’
hands with him,
to smoke a friendly pipe.
came, The six of
shanty were working in co
iv | q f friat 1
Our bag of aust
no one
us occupying one
nmon, and
a corner
ing this bag
was buried in
Une mo
of the fire-place,
ir
ba
and you can
HHS TOW
+ was the hole where some
inder the stones and carried off our
10M Were we Lo suspect’
each other, and we
beans
itsiders none
wir bag was con-
wns the first
own on Betses
mad, and in tl
We Calne Lear
ourselves, It
4 discovery
Raoht atid er
fight among
anger 10 discover
reasonably suspect
y catch at
we
months of hard work, and dnt
stop 10 197 ay
the charg it the i i
if he co
the
The news
we called our shanty,
spread like wildfire, and as
bered a full hundred,
at work, and as he saw us coming he
was startled,
black looks must have frightened him.
You will say that an innocent man
would have stayed and braved the storm.
man be started off at a run.
“Halt! Halt! Halt, or we'll shoot!”
shouted a score of men.
“He's the thief—stop him! stop him!"’
roared the Judge.
Five or six shots were fired almost as
Three bullets entered his
the foremost man bent
turned his white scared
on the rocks,
back, and as
over him and
“You have murdered me
give youl”
“Now to search him!’ said the Judge
as he came up, and a half
made quick work of it,
breast, and made fast to his neck by a
ribbon, was a package wrapped in oil
as the Judge rudely snapped the string
and held the package in his hand.
was our dust,
No!
the pac
there were white faces among us. What
the card was written:
“Mary--—died June 9th 1857."
That was the dead man's wife!
was a second photograph-—that of a
babe about a year old, and the Judge
read aloud in a trembling voice:
“Qur Harry—died April 4th, 1857.7
On a card were
locks of their bair. There was a gold
ring once worn by the wife, a faded rib-
bon which ber fingers had touched, and
a bit of plaid like the dress the baby
wore when photographed. Relies of
what? Of years agone-—of a fond wife
and beautiful child—of joy and happi-
grief!
And we were looking dewn upon
these things and feeling our hearts swell-
ing up and our eyes growing misty when
up comes our good-for-nothing, half-
witted cook with the bag of dust in his
hand! In repairing the fire-place he had
moved the , and in the excitement
over its su loss what little wit he
had was f ghished away for the mo-
ment. The hole under the stones had
— A
food, and in our haste we had accused
and murdered an innocent man,
It came to us in full force as we stood
there, and men sighed and wiped their
eyes and walked away with trembling
| steps, The Judge felt that hie was most
ito blame. He was looked upon as a
| hard, wicked man, but those jelics of
| the dead broke him up. He sat there
| and wept like a child, and In a volce
| hardly audible for his great emotion, he
{ moaned:
| “Heaven forgive me for this awful
| deed!”
With sorrow with tenderness
| hearts like children, we dug a grave and
| put the poor body iuto it, and with his
i
{ board and engraved thereon:
“Here lies a man as was wronged!’
Fortunes Made in Old Corks.
| “You wouldn't think a
{ make a fortune selling old
bottles, would you? Well,
| man who bought out a coffin shed twen-
| Ly-tive
corks
old corks, Eight years ago he went into
the bottle business, and he i snow a rich
man,’' The policeman who said this
took the writer down Mulberry street,
and a few blocks below Bleecker stopped
in front of
filled with
1
i 1 1 1 ¥ 3 S$
before a rickety old building.
BMYEeTal 18
bari
3, There were bottles
» Vermouth, Piper Sed
, of Bass’ ale, cla
Inside the shop
if a thousand bx
the ile
'
claret and
Wels
OX ike littie
were piled up and
asked the policeman,
Eight barrels.”
“How many bottles?”
“Seventy-five gross. You we
| never take the labels off, and never
wash the bottes, The men who r
wine bottles want the labels as well
Sometimes want the labels
much more than the bottles; but we do
not deal in labels. When a junkman
comes in with a load of bottles he may
have y different kinds, We
i them, W] get a gross of a cer-
tain kind we know where to sell them
A gross of quart champagne bottl
fetches $4.50: pints, $2.25. ( 1
y per
day, Hugh?”
Be
the bottles
t vont $
twent 8011
€n we
ial i
gross, and so do
soda water worth
$2.25, but fo » wine bottles we get
$0 per gross, ““Tom’’ gins and stomach
bitters go « worter and Vino Ver-
Apolliz
KIONS,
ohn i
Bass’ ale is
quarts
i >
beer
bring $8
jl for $6, il
B50. We sell
no
pring men
We have
rks in the past twen-
Sp haa Bus 3 gynth § oy
» years to float the Great Eastern,
re
y 54)
Dandisd enough
ty.
—————
English Farmers in America.
Mr. Burt, Britis
Suin-
a member of the
Parliament, spent much of last
mer in this country, and in an interest.
ing letter writes: On the prairies of Iili-
Kings
ton, Canada, I met several people who
were formerly laborers in England and
in the north part of Ireland, who are
now the owners of the farms they till
They seem to be doing well. 1 spent a
| pois and in the neighborhood of
who went from the north of England
some thirty vears ago. They took
nothing with them but stout hearts and
i a pair of ready, willing hands, They
| have now farms of their own, in ohne
case of one hundred acres and in
of eighty acres, They
| erected good houses, stables,
| and the usual outbuildings
| with a well-equipped farm. Surroun
ing their homesteads are orchards in
which they grow many Kinds of fruit
Their land is well cultivated, and well
stocked with fine animals, Nearly
evervthing they require is produced Ly
themselves; in short, they are indepen.
dent as far as anybody on earth can
be independent.
| but work for
| other have
barns,
connected
themselves, and were
| travels. There was a quiet dignity, a
self-possession, an absence of haste and
| ers which afforded a pleasant contrast to
in other parts of
ui
‘much that I saw
| America,
CAMP,
How to Open Oysters,
“Talk of
Hurrican, **
only know how,"
“And how's how,”
light.
“Scotch suuff,” answered old Herri-
cane, very sententiously, *‘Scotch snuff;
bring a little of it ever so near their
noses, and they'll sneeze their lids off.”
“I know a genius,’’ observed Mr,
Karl, “who has a better plan. He
spreads the bivalves in a circle, seats
himself in the center, and begins spin.
ining a yarn, Sometimes it’s an adven-
ture in Mexico—sometimes a legend of
his love--sometimes a marvellous stock
operation. As he proceeds the oysters
get interested; one by one they
with astonishment at the tremendous
and direful who which are poured
forth; and as y gape, my friend
whips ‘em out, peppers ‘em al swaller’
em,
“That'll do,” said Starlight, witha
long sigh. “I wish we had a bushel
of them here now--they'd open easy.’
opening oysters,’’ said old
why nothing's easier if vou
inquired Star-
Italics im Our English Bibles,
The King James Bibles italicize all
the words supplied in translating, even
the pronominal subject which is implied
in the verb by its inflection, or the co-
pula-verb fmoplied by the juxtaposition of
The revisers, in their preface
lay down a rule which is, for substance,
that they will italicize only the words
that are supplied for making good sense
in English, and not those which are
properly implied in the phraseology of
jut in their use of this
rule they seem to count all the ordinary
English supplements the Hebrew
phraseology as implied; it is only in ex-
they count
anything as supplied, That their rule,
That their usage is that which ordinar-
ily obtains in popular translations into
English from other languages will read
ily be admitted; but the English Bible,
though a popular translation, i8 in some
important respects different from
other popular translations, If
was any reason why revisers should
spend so much time upon it, that reason
1 in the fact that the Bible
book-a which
are expected not merely to read ¢
they
in. but to studs
most
tt
Lier
religions
igs DOGK
do 1h
it does
initeriere
ww, It
where-
re
therefore
10 Lhe
of either the
istic stvie of the
onduces ne
accurate expression
ing or the character ]
iginal. Probably } or more of the
omissions of italics in the Res
Version are in violation of this princi-
ple
let me illustrate this by a few in-
stances taken at random from Malachi
1) “My name shall be great among
(Mal. i. 113, the Revised
reion translates ‘my name is great, ”’
be’ into the
therefore, here
tit 18 a matter of
had
nether
Yyie
EPL
ised
the Gentiles”
margi
recogniie
difference
the copula
tt: +
Liat
were
iat for
matier
because
anat
James
evi
up
sors take
meeal the
If one
he should retransiate the Re-
i would obtain a result
different from the original,
A very different instance is ‘‘a
ym honoreth his father, and a servant
his master’ (Mal. 6). Here the
vision omits the italics. In this case it
is true that the word his is implied,
which would ordinarily be sufficient rea-
son for leaving it undistinguished.
But here it is also true that it would be
as natural for the Hebrew to express
the pronoun as for the English; that the
omission of it is a mark of peculiar
style; that this peculiarity might be
transferred into perfectly good English:
“A son honoreth a father, and a servant
his master;” that the peculiarity is at
least indicated in the old version by its
noting that the word his is supplied;
that it is buried out of sight in the re-
vision, and that the test of retransiation
would here vindicate the old and con-
demn the new,
The instances thus objected to must
be nearly half as numerous as the verses
ju the Old Testament. They may be
relatively fewer in the New Testament.
In this matter the Bible of King
James, with all its superfluity of italics,
is greatly to be preferred to that of the
revisers, with its thousands upon thou-
he
re-
guishable from the other parts of the
text.
M. Mangins, of Paris, France, has
recently made an interesting experi-
ment with a paper balioon of about 150
feet cuble capacity. It was filled ia ten
minutes with pure hydrogen, furan
by the Egasse apparatus. A
candescent lamp was suspended in the
centre of the balloon, surrounded by
the gas, and a current passed through
it. The imcandescent light rendered
the balloon Sampurent, giving 1s Se
appearance mmense C -
tern. It — captive about 70
feet above the surface of the ground
and experiments made to prove iw val-
ue for sigualing. The signals were
made by lighting and extinguishing the
lamps, The same experimenter is work-
ing on the problem of reheating balloon
gases during nocturoal voyages, but
beyond the ability to use the balloon as
a sigual-light carrier in case of war,
the invention bas apparently little real
value,
SP
The process of feathers
in thom sighily betore th dre
then them with the back of a
knife, they will curl .
SA