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"GO TO THE ANT."
And Learn of llvr How to De on Ideal
Socialist.
"It now being past noon and Formi
ca's thoughts turning to refreshments,
she hied herself to the outskirts of the
nest, where the family cows were pas
tured. These cows, or aphides, were
feeding on the leaves of the daisy, into
which they plunge their proboscides
and suck all day long, filling their
bodies with pleasant juices. Our ant
came up behind an aphis and stroked
it gedtly with her antennae, when the
little creature gave out a drop of her
sweet liquid, which Formica sucked
into her own crop. There were thou
sands of these aphides pasturing on
the leaves and thousands of ants milk
ing them. Most of the ants took more
of the juice into their crops than they
needed; and, on the way back to work,
gave up a part of it to friends whom
they met going to the cows, thus sav
ing the others' time and enabling them
to resume their occupation more quick
ly. The ants were making the most
of the aphis juice during the summer
days, knowing that the supply would
fall off later when the aphides laid
their eggs. (Note here the superior
mental equipoise of the ant, which nei
ther betrays surprise nor writes to the
newspapers when her cows begin to
lay eggs.) These eggs the ants would
store over winter, tending them with
the utmost care until spring, when the
young aphides are brought out and
placed ou the shoots of the daisy to
mature and provide food again during
the hot weather. This far-sightedness
is unexampled in the animal kingdom.
Other insects and animals put away
stores for the winter, to be sure, but
the ant is the only one of them that
breeds its own food supply. Having
taken lier fill of the sweet juice on this
particular day, Formica noticed that
the aphis which she had been milking
was in a position on the leaf which
might expose it to observation of some
aphidivorous insect. She immediately
descended to the ground, when she
obtained a mouthful of earth, and,
again climbing up the daisy stalk, built
a tiny shed over the cow, going back
and forth several times to bring up
sufficient material." —Frank Marshall
White in Pearson's.
HE KNEW HIS BEES.
Worked on n Ilee Ranch and Learned
to Digtlngulnh Them.
"Did you ever hear of a man who
could recognize a bee from the other
members of its swarm?" asked Col. J.
E. Showalter while talking to a group
of horsemen in the Hoffman house lob
by a few evenings ago.
"Oh, you needn't give me the laugh;
it' 3 so. I've done it.
"Of course it isn't every one who can
do It—just as there are few artists
that can catch the expression of a horse
and put it on canvas. It's on the same
principle that some shepherds know
every sheep in a ilock of two or three
thousand.
"When I was a young man X went
west from Kentucky to locate. I was
charmed with the beauty of southern
California and settled for a year or two
at San Diego. I found that I would
starve there if I tried to practice law,
so I turned to almost the only thing
at which one could make a living then
in that section, and went on a bee
r*nth.
"There you go again! Because you
never heard of anything but horses you
imagine a bee ranch doesn't exist.
Well, it does. That whole section is
practically covered with a white sage,
the bloom of which makes perhaps the
best honey In the world. Consequent
ly the country has beon divided Into
great bee ranches and the production
of honey became quite an Industry.
"Some of the best pure white honey
on the New York market to-day," said
Col. Showalter, according to the New
York Times, "comes from San Diego.
In the course of the development of
the Industry it was found that the
black bee, from near the River Po, In
Italy, was the best suited for their pur
pose. Well, I worked for about a year
on a bee ranch and became so familiar
with the bees that I learned to distin
guish them from each other."
ISeneeniliia A-tlasle Turkey.
Asiatic Turkey is to be rescued from
semi-barbarism by the construction of
$140,000,000 worth of railroads, one of
which will run through Euphrates val
ley from end to end. The new roads
will follow the old caravan routes, and
they will touch all the principal cities
and towns of Bible land.
FALLEN INTO ELD.
I sit before ray window But O the lonely morning!
And watch the sullen rain; And O the dreary night!
The hand of age is on me, Ah, life itself should follow
And weakness grows to pain. When love and hope take flight*
My sons are men, far from me; No happy days await me,
Their father—he is dead; No joy that all must crave;
I own the roof above me, The only path before me
I do not lack for bread. Ends In an open grave.
—Ninette M. Lowater, in New York Sun.
| A DOG OF RUDDY COVE. |
<*s Ey Norman Duncan. <£>
HE was a Newfoundland dog,
born of reputable parents at
Back Arm and decently bred
£ in Buddy Cove, which Is on
the northeast coast. He bad blaek
hair, short, straight and wiry,—the
curly-liaired breed has failed ou the
islaud, —and broad, ample shoulders,
which his forbears had transmitted to
him from generations of hauling
wood.
He was heavy, awkward and ugly,
resembling somewhat a great draft
liorse. But he pulled with a will,
fended for himself, and within the
knowledge of men had never stolen
a lish; so he had a high place in the
hearts of all the people of the Cove,
and a safe one in their estimation.
"Skipper! Skipper! Here, b'y!"
The ringing call, in the voice of
young Billy Topsail, his master, a
fisherman's son, never failed to bring
the dog from the kitchen with uu
eager rush, when the snow lay deep
ou ihe rocks and all the paths of the
wilderness were ready for the sled.
He stood stock-still for the harness,
and at the first "Hi, b'y! Gee up,
there!" he hounded away with a
wagging tail and a glud hark. It was
as If nothing pleased him so much on
a frosty morning as the prospect of a
hard day's work.
If the call came In summer-time
when the Skipper was dozing in the
cool shadow of a flake,—a platform
of houghs for drying flsli,—he
scramled to his feet, took his clog In
his mouth and ran, all a-qulver for
what might come, to where young
Billy waited. (In Newfoundland the
law requires that all dogs shall be
clogged as a precaution against their
kiiling sheep and goats which run
wild. The clog is in the form of a
billet of wood, weighing at least
seven and a half pounds, and tied to
the dog's neck.) If the clog were
taken off,—as It was almost sure to
be,—lt meant sport in the water.
Then the Skipper would paw the
ground and whine until the stick was
flung out for him. But best of all he
loved to dive for stones.
At the peep of many a day, too, he
went out in the punt to the fishing
grounds with Billy Topsail, and there
kept the lad good company all the
day long. It was because he sat on
the little cuddy in the how, as if
keeping a lookout ahead, that he was
called the Skipper.
"Sure, 'tis a clever dog, that!" was
Billy's boast. "He would save life—
that dog would!"
This was proved beyond doubt when
little Isaiah Tommy Goodman toddled
over the wharfhead, where he had been
playing with a squid. Isaiah Tommy
was four years old, and would sure
ly have been drowned had not the Skip
per strolled down the wliarf just at
that moment.
The Skipper was obedient to the
instinct of all Newfoundland dogs to
drag the sons of men from the water.
He plunged L. and caught Isaiah Tom
my by the collar of his pinafore. Still
following his instinct, he kept the
child's head above water with power
ful strokes of his fore paws while he
towed him to shore. Then the outcry
which Isaiah Tommy immediately set
up brought his mother to complete
the rescue.
For this deed the Skipper was potted
a day and a half, and fed with fried
caplln and salt pork, to his evident
gratification. No doubt ho was per
suaded that he hail acted worthily.
However that be, he continued In
merry moods, in affectionate behavior,
in honesty—although the fish were
even then drying on the flakes, all ex
posed, and he carried his clog like a
hero.
"Skipper," Billy Topsail would cjae
nlate, "you do be a clever dog!"
Oue day lu the fall of the year, when
high winds spring suddenly from the
land, Billy Topsail was fishing from
the punt, the Never Give Up, over
the shadows of .Molly's Head. It was
"fish weather," as the ltuddy Cove
men say—gray, cold and misty. The
harbor entrance lay two miles to the
southwest. The bluffs which marked
it were hardly discernible, for the mist
hung thick oil the shore. Four punts
and a skiff were bobbing lialf a mile
farther out to sea, their crews fishing
with hook and line over the side.
Thicker weather threatened, and the
day was near spent.
" 'TIs time to be off home, b'y," said
Eilly to tbo dog. " 'Tis getting thick
in the sou'west."
The Skipper stretched himself and
wagged his tail. He had no word to
say, but Billy, who, like all fishermen
in remote places, had formed the habit
of talking to himself, supplied the
answer.
" 'Tis that, Billy, b'y," said he. "The
punt s as much as one hand can man
age in a fair wind. An' 'tis a dead beat
to the harbor now."
Then Billy said n word for himself.
"We'll put in for ballast. The punc's
too light for a gale."
He sculled the punt to the little
cove by the Hend, and there loaded her
with rocks. Her sails, nialneail aud
tiny jib were spread, and' she was
headed for Grassy Island, on the first
leg of her beat into the wind. By this
time the other two punt 3 were under
way, and the sails of the skiff were
fluttering as her crew prepared to
beat home for the night. The Never
Give Up was ahead of the fleet, and
held her lend in such fine fashion as
made Billy Topsail's heart swell with
pride.
The wind had gained In force. It
was sweeping down from the hills in
gusts. Now It fell to breeze, and
again it came swiftly with angry
strength. Nor could its advance be
perceived, for the sua was choppy and
the bluffs shielded the Inshore waters.
"We'll fetch the harbor on the next
; tack," Billy muttered to the Skipper,
jvho was whining in the bow.
He put the steering oar hard alee
to bring the punt about. A gust caught
the sails. TIM boat heeled bqfore It,
and her gunwale was under water
before Billy could make a move to
save her. The wind forced her down,
pressing heavily upon Hie canvas. Her
ballast shifted aud she toppled over.
Boy uud dog were thrown Into the
sea—the one aft, the other forward.
Billy dived deep to escape entangle
ment with the rigging of the boat.
He had long ago learned the lesson
that presence of mind wins half the
light in perilous emergencies. The
coward miserably perishes, where the
brave man survives. .With his courage
leaping to meet his predicament, he
struck out for windward and rose to
the surface.
He looked about for the punt. She
had been heavily weighted with bal
last and he feared for her. What was
lie to do if she had been too heavily
weighted? Even as he looked she
sank. She hnd righted under water;
the tip of the mast was the last be
saw of her.
The sea—cold, fretful, vast—lay all
about him. The coast was half a mile
to windward; the punts, out to sea,
were laboriously beating toward him,
and could make no greater speed. He
had to choose between the punt and
the rocks.
A whine—with a strange note in it
attracted his attention. The big dog
had caught sight of him, and was beat
ing the water in u frantic effort to
approach quickly. But the dog had
never whined like that before.
"Hi, Skipper!" Billy called. "Steady,
b'y! Steady!"
Billy took off his boots as fast as he
could. The dog was coming nearer,
still whining strangely and madly paw
ing the water. Billy was mystified.
What possessed the dog? It was" as
if he had been seized with a fit of ter
ror. Was he afraid or drowning? His
eyes were fairly flaring. Such a light
had never been in them before.
In the instant he had for speculation
the boy lifted himself high in the
water and looked intently into the
dog's eyes. It was terror he saw in
them; there could be no doubt about
that, he thought. The dog was afraid
for his life. At once Billy was filled
with dread. He could not crush the
fueling down. Afraid of the Skipper,
—tile old, affectionate Skipper—his own
dog, which he had reared from a pup
py! It was absurd. But he was
afraid, nevertheless—desperately afraid.
"Back, b'y!" ha cried. "Get buck,
sir!"
Billy was a strong swimmer. He
had learned to swim where the water
is cold—cold, often, us the Icebergs
stranded In the harbor can make It.
The water was bitter cold now, but
he did not fear it, nor did he doubt that
ho could accomplish the long swim
which lay before him. It was the un
accountable failure of the dog which
disturbed him—his failure In obedience,
which could not be explained. The
dog was now within three yards, and
excited past all reason.
"Back, sir!" Billy screamed. "Get
back with you!"
The dog was not deterred by the
command. He did not so much as hes
itate. Billy raised his hand as if to
strike him—a threatening gesture
which hnd sent the Skipper home with
his tall between his legs many a time.
But it had no effect now.
"Get buck!" Billy screamed agaiu.
It was plain that, the dog was not to
te bidden. Billy threw himself on his
back, supported himself with hb hands
and kicked at the dog with ills feet.
The Skipper was blinded by the splash
ing. He whined and held back. Then
blindly he came again. Billy moved
sltwly from him, head foremost, still
churning the water with his feet. But
swimming thus, lie was no match for
the dog. With his head thrown buck
to escape the blows, the Skipper forged
after him. He was struck iu the Jaws,
In the throat and again In the Jaws.
But he pawed on, taking every blow
without complaint and gaining inch
by inch. Soon he W.IB so close that the
lad could no longer move his feet
freely. Then the dog chanced to catch
one foot with his paw, and forced it
under. Billy could not beat him off.
No longer opposed, the dog crept
up—paw over paw. forcing the boy's
body .lower aud ,'jwer. His object
was clear to Billy. The Skipper, fren
zied by terror, the boy thought, would
try to save himself by climbing on
his shoulders.
"Skipper 1" he cried, "you'll drown
me! Get back!"
The futility of attempting to com
mand obedience from a crazy dog
struck Billy Topsail with force. He
must act otherwise, and that quickly,
if he were to escape. There seemed
tp be but one thing to do. He took a
long breath and let himself sink
down—down—as deep as he dared.
Down—down—until he retained breath
sufficient but to strike to the right and
rise again.
The dog—as It was made known later
—rose as litgli as ho could force him
self, and looked about in every direc
tion, with his mouth open and his ears
rigidly cocked, gave two short
barks, like sobs, and a long, mournful
whine. Theu, as if acting upon sudden
thought, he dived.
For a moment nothing was to be
seen of either boy or dog. There was
nothing but a choppy sea in that place.
Men who were watching thought that
both hnd followed the Never Give Up
to the bottom.
In the momentary respite under
water Billy perceived that his situa
tion was desperate. He would rise,
he was sure, but only to repew the
struggle. How long he could keep the
dog off he could not tell. Until the
punts came down to his aid? He
thought not.
He came to the surface prepared to
dive again. But the Skipper bad dis
appeared. An ejaculation of thanks
giving was yet on the boy's lips, when
the dog's black head rose and moved
swiftly toward film. Billy lmd a start
of ten ynrds—or something more.
lie turned on his side aud set off at
top speed. There was no better swim
mer among the lads of the harbor. Was
he a match for a powerful Newfound
land dog? It was soon evident that
he was not.
The Skipper gained rapidly. Billy
felt a paw strike ids foot He put
more force into his strokes. Next the
paw struck the calf of his leg. The
dog was now upon him—pawing his
back. Billy could not sustain the
weight. To escape, that ho might
take up the tight in another way, he
dived again.
The dog was waiting when Billy
came up—wnltlng eagerly, on the alert
to continue the chase.
"Skipper, old fellow—good old dog!"
Billy called in a soothing voice.
"Steady, sir! Down, sir—back!"
The dog was not to be deceived. He
came, by turns whiulug and gasping.
He was more excited, more determined,
than ever. Billy waited for htm. The
fight was to be face to face. The boy
hnd determined to keep him off with
his hands until strength failed—to
drown him if he could. AH love for
the dog had gone out of his heart.
The weeks of close and merry .com
panionship, of romps and rambles
and sport, were forgotten. Billy was
fighting for life. So 1 waited with
out pity, hoping only Uwt his strength
might last until he had conquered.
When the dog was within reach Billy
struck him in the face. A snarl and an
angry snap was the result.
Rage seemed suddenly to possess the
dog. He held back for a moment,
growling fiercely, and theu attacked
with a rush. Billy fought as best he
could, trying to catch his enemy by
the neck and to force his head beneath
the waves. The effort was vain; the
dog eluded his grasp and renewed
the attack. In another moment he
had laid his heavy paws on the boy's
shoulders.
The weight was too much for Billy.
Down he went, freed himself, and
struggled to the surface, gasping for
breath. It appeared to him now that
he had but a moment to live. He felt
liis self-possession going from him—
and at that moment his ears caught
the sound of a voice.
"Put your arm "
The voice seemed to come from far
away. Before the sentence was com
pleted the dog's paws were agaiu on
Billy's shoulders and the water stopped
the boy's hearing. What were they
calling to him? The thought that some
helping hand was near inspired him.
With this new courage to aid, he
dived for the third time. The voice
was nearer—clearer—when he came up,
and he heard every word.
"Put your arm around his neck!" one
man cried.
"Catch him by the scruff of the
neck!" cried another.
Billy's self-possession returned. He
would follow tills direction. The Skip
per swam anxiously to him. It may
be that he wondered what this new nt
titude meant. It may be that he hoped
reason bad returned to the boy—that
at last he would allow himself to be
saved. Billy caught the dog by the
scruff ®f the neck when he was within
arm' length. The Skipper wagged
his tail and turned about. There was
a brief pause, during which the faith
ful old dog determined upon the direc
tion he would take. Ho espied the
punts, which had borne down with all
speed. Toward them he swam, and
there was something of prldo in his
mighty strokes, something of exulta
tion in his whine. Billy struck out
with his free hand, and soon boy and
dog were pulled over the side of the
nearest punt.
Through it all, as Billy now knew,
the dog had only wanted to save him.
That night Billy Topsail took the
Skipper aside for a loflg and confiden
tial talk. "Skippgr," said he, "1 beg
your pardon. You see, I didn't know
what 'twas you wanted. I'm sorry I
ever had a hard thought against, you,
and I'ua sorry I tried to drown you.
When I thought you only wanted to
save yourself, 'twas Billy Topsail you
were thinking of. When I thought
you wanted to climb atop of me. 'twas
my collar you wanted to catch. When
I thought you wanted to bite me,' twas
a scolding you were giving me for
my foolishness. Skipper, b'y, honest,
I beg your pardon. Next lime I'll
know that all a Newfoundland dog
wants is a chance to tow me ashore.
And I'll give him a whole chance. But,
Skipper, don't you think you might
have given me a chance to do some
thing for myself';"
At which the Skipper wagged his
tail.—Youth's Companion.
DON'T BE ASHAMED OF IDEALS.
The Passion For Thing?* Good is Planted
in Us All.
Apropos to the recent discussion of
the biography of Stevenson is tills ex
tract from an editorial article in the
Century:
"There a hunger of the soul for
things of good repute that, given a life
of average length, Is apt sooner or later
to assert Its power in every man not
born an irreclaimable criminal. There
Is a passion, in strong natures as in
weak, for things evil, bnt there is a
passion as well for things clean and
virtuous. In that, strange and memor
able colloquy of the dawn between
Francis Villon and the Lord of Briso
tout, in Stevenson's story, 'A Lodging
for the Night,' the sympathetic flguro
is not the well-housed selgnenr, but tho
homeless, thieving poet. And yet tho
man of convention, warming his knees
by his comfortable charcoal pan, said
things that hold water. 'You speak of
food and. wine,' quoth he, 'and I know
very well that hunger is a difficult
trial to endure, but you do not speak
of other wants; yon say nothing of
honor, of faith to Qod and other men,
of courtesy, of love without reproach.
It may be that I am not very wise—
and yet I think I am—but you seem to
me like one who lins lost his way and
made a great error in life. You are
attending to the little wants, and you
have totally forgotten the great and
only real ones, like a man who should
bo doctoring toothache on the Judg
ment Day. For such things as honor
and love and faith are not only nobler
than food and drink, but, indeed, I
think we desire them fnore, and suffer
more sharply for their absence. I
speak to you as I think yon will most
eusily understand me. Are you not,
while careful to fill ycur belly, disre
garding another appetite in your heart,
which spoils the pleasure of your life
and keeps you continually wretched?'
"The young' man who put these
words into the mouth of the Lord cf
Brisetout knew one or two things about
life, and It would be nothing other
than natural if, more and more, hia
own life betrayed that knowledge.
"Heaven knows there is enough to
pull us down. Let us not be ashamed,
we poor sinners, of cherishing Ideals,
even in weakness! And defend us from
the cynle critics who, for reasons that
savor of qualities one does not wish
to name, would deface tho Ideals that
speak to us from the many-volumed
writings of a brave, knightly and la
mented spirit."
Tlie Six-Fin jfereil Children.
Unique in the history of freaks is
the six-fingered family of Dresbach,
Minn. The family now consists of
Mrs. Gaskill and ten children. The
peculiarity belongs to the mother's
side.
Mrs. Caskill's maiden name wns
Olive Cooper. She doesn't know "where
she wns born, but the family was prob
ably of New York origin. She remem
bers only that she was a wanderer
with the Cooper family at an early
age, and that the Cooper family were
basket-makers and venders; they led
gypsy lives and crossed the continent
from New York to San Francisco sev
eral times.
In the Cooper family there were ten
children. Five of them had six fingers
and five of them had not. The great
est peculiarity Is that every alternate
child in point of age has the extra fin
ger, and those who are not six-fingered
are blessed with an extra toe, and
thoso tvlio have six toes have webs
between their toes. The extra toes
and fingers have well developed nails.
Exactly the same conditions are found
I*r the Gaskill family. Mrs. Gaskill
was married to Zaehens Gaskill thir
ty-two years ago, and has resided in
Dresden since then.—St Paul Dis
patch.
Thamoi Watermen.
Considering the deterioration of the
Thames as a highway, it is surprising
that the professional waterman should
flourish as he does. This is in great
part owing to the prize which Thomas
Doggett, comedian, established to com
memorate the accession of the House
of Brunswick. For 170 years now, on
August 1 every year, six young water
men, just out of their apprenticeship,
have rowed for the flarue-eolored coat
and silver badge for which Doggett In
his will provided in perpetuity. Tho
Fishmongers' Company, of which Dog
gett -was a member, provides other
prizes, and tho contest still excites
more than a local interest. —London
Chronicle.
Excessive l'otlteiies..
There Is a man who is always apolo
gizing. and some say: "How courteous
he is! How thoughtful! A born gen
tleman."' Know that he Is a thorough
and aggrosslvc egotist. He runs against
you, he step., on your foot, he tries to
pass you on the left, he knocks your
hat as he hnugs by a strap in a ear,
he sits on your coat tail—what does lie
not do to call attention to his own
breeding? Sometimes he throws the
accent on "beg," sometimes on
"par—don." The speech is merely a
rhetorical flourish and he bas practiced
all the variations.—Boston Journal.
Of the 1557 towns in New England
101 manage their schools under the
district system, eighty-one of them
; being in Connecticut.
CfcO%AIS
Why lJailruadw Help.
Er VERY few months reports
published concerning ex lib
i bitions of road building ma
chinery or mass meetings to
discuss road construction, held under
the supervision of railway companies.
It is of no small interest to examine
into the reasons which have led one
railroad to appoint a permanent good
roads agent, another to transport over
its Hues a trainload of machinery
with which object lessons In economi
cal road building are given at various
towns, and many companies to offer
special rates for transportation of
plant for highway improvement. Pre
sumably these corporations are not
doing this solely for philanthropic
motives, but because they recognize +
that the high cost of transportation
over poor roads diminishes the farm
er's ability to market all but the most
valuable part of his produce and his X
power of purchasing return freight;
or, in other words, good roads are a
necessity to wealthy farmers, and
without wealthy farmers, aud many
of them, the railway revenues on local
business are small.
The census returns for the State of
New York show that the decrease in
population in the last decade was 2201
in Wyoming, Livingston and Allegany
counties. The special train which
took the New York members of the
American Society of Civil Engineers
to the recent convention at Niagara
Falls passed through parts of these
counties, aud some of the members
remarked on the fact that in spite of
manifest advantages of soil and
climate farming Is gradually decreas
ing, and lauds formerly under culti
vation are now going back to brush
and weeds. The reason for tLis may /
ho complex, hut one of the most in- £
llucutiul is surely the defective roads,
which not only put an additional bur
den on the cost of teaming, hut also
isolate each farm and increase tiie
difficulty of social Intercourse. This
latter influence is much greater than
is usually recognized, for men, women
and children are gregarious animals,
and the hermit aud recluse are rare.
Moreover, the lack of good roads is
depriving these Counties of a very
considerable revenue from tourists
aud pleasure seekers. Their scenery
Is beautiful, their climate attractive,
but their highways keep out the vis
itor. Switzerland learned this lesson
long ago, and has built up an enor
•rnous income from tourists by good
roads aud good hotels. Western New
York bas, of course, no Cbamouuix,
Zermatt or luterlakeu. but it bas more
picturesque scenery than that to brl
found along the Oberlap and Albula *
passes from Andermatt to Sun Moritz.
Hosts of tourists take the latter
tedious two day journey who would
never tlilnk of it if a magnificent high
way did not make the long diligence
ride as comfortable as the smoothest
roadway and the easiest of stages
permit Throughout this entire dis
tance, moreover, there is rarely a farm
in sight, the hamlets are very small
and there are only a few villages. It
Is self-evident that without the liigh
road aud its well-kept branches the
country would be deserted. If a simi
lar road extended through the three
retrograding New York counties, with
less expensive but nevertheless good
branches to the neighboring villages,
it is safe to say that the income from
travelers and summer visitors alone
would soon pay tlie cost of main
tenance and reconstruction, to Bay .
nothing of the Increased wealth of the •
farmers through cheaper trausporta
tlon.—Engineering Record.
Mnruilum IWuchincH.
The eonsti'uction of macadam roads 5-
on u large senle has naturally im
parted a great Impetus to the develop
ment of rock crushing apparatus. The
first steel rock crusher was buUt ten
years ago and a gradual improvement
has since gone hand in hand with an
increase of capacity. The most mod
ern plants not only crush the stone
hut elevate It and separate It into sizes.
The stone crushers weigh from two
to eight tons each, require for their
operation engines of from twelve ttv £
twenty-five horse power and give a
product of from eight to thirty tons
of crushed stone per hour. For
separating the crushed stone into dif- t
ferent sizes road makers usually use
a portable storage bin which weighs
2500 pounds and has three
meats, each of which will hold four
tons of stone, and which are provided
with discharging chutes on either side
so that wagons can load from both
sides if necessary. For separating
the crushed material into various sizes
screens of different types are avail
able. One of the most interesting
forms of this apparatus is the revolv
ing screen, which revolves on either
a shaft or on rollers and into which
the stone passes. Some of these
screens are fifty-six inches in dlamter.
and inasmuch as each screen Is
punched with holes of two different
sizes, three different sizes of product
are obtainod, one size passing through
the one-inch holes, a second size pass
ing through the two-inch holes, and k
tho largest size pasisng out at the end w
of the screen.
A Spring 3000 Yearn Old.
In Zante, one of the lonian Islands,
there Is a petroleum spring which has
been known for nearly 3000 years. It
is mentioned by Herodotus.
California's barley crop harvested in
1801 amounted to 500,000 tuns.