THE WAVING OF THE CORN.
BY SIDNEY LANIEB.
f Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly wheeled
Thy plough to ring this solitary tree
With clover, whose round plat, reserved a-field,
In cool green radius twice my length may be—
Scanting the corn thy furrows else might yield.
To pleasure August, bees,"fair thoughts, and me,
That come here oft together—daily I,
Stretched prone in summer's mortal ecstasy,
Do stir with thanks to thee, as stirs this morn
With waving of the corn.
Unseen, the farmer's boy from round the hill
Whistles a snatch that seeks his soul unsought,
And fills some time with tune, howbeit shrill;
The cricket tells straight on his simple thought—
Nay, 'tis the cricket's way of being still;
The peddler bee drones in, and gossips naught;
Far down the wood, a one-desiring dove
Times me the beating of the heart of love;
And these be all the sounds that mix, each morn,
With waving of the corn.
From hero to where the louder passions dwell,
Green leagues of hilly separation roll;
Trade ends where your far clover ridges swell.
Ye terrible towns, ne'er claim the trembling soul
That, craftless all to buy or hoard or sell,
From out your deadly complex quarrel stole
To company with large amiable trees,
Suck honey summer with unjealous bees.
And take time's strokes as softly as this morn
Takes waving of the corn.
Little Fiddler. |j|||
/ / -| —▼ ATE'S a fiddler."
• • |—/ The little fiddler—such a
[ " little fiddler—flung a quick
(J - unchildlike glance around
the packed concert room, drew a long,
unchildlike sigh, and began to play.
First, a gay ripple of music—light and
heedless and youthful—then a phrase
or so, subdued and soft and piteous
as the "moau of doves in immemorial
elms," followed by the liquid lament of
a nightingale. A scurry of soft notes
like summer rain dropped from the
strings Into silence, and the end came
with a repetition of the child's laugh.
"Gypsy, every note of it," an emi
nent scientist said to his daughter, as
she leaned back in her stall with tears
In her soft brown eyes. "Gypsy music,
my dear Madge, and played, one would
swear, by a gypsy, but for his face.
And his name, too, is pure Saxon—An
glo-Saxon at that."
"It is, papa?" his daughter Madge
said, with a swift glance at the little
fiddler, now rendering a wild bazarre
movement, half dance, half march.
"It's an odd name, too; Godfrith Ak.
I don't think I like it, and I don't think
I like his face, either; it's so sallow and
plain."
"Look at his eyes, my dear."
"So I have, and I don't want to do
It again, papa; they give me the
creeps," Madge whispered back. "But
he's a wonderful player."
"Aye, he is that; I wonder where he
comes from? I am interested in his
name; pure Anglo-Saxon, Madge; think
of it."
"Perhaps he's a ghost or something
of that sort," commented Madge, flip
pantly. "Anglicize his name a little,
please, papa; it's too Saxon for me."
"Godfrey Oak; that is the modern
English of it, my dear; and there is 110
verb 'Anglo,' said the professor, dryly,
as the violin piece ended, and a little
rustle went through the crowded
room. "Yes, that is the last. Come,
Madge, my dear—Why, Hoffmann, I
never expected to see you here. And
how is your wife, my dear fellow?"
They were out in the vestibule now,
and Madge Dormer, paler than her
wont, offered her hand with a smile
to the spectacled young German her
father had taken by the arm.
"How is Mrs. Hoffmann? Better, I
hope. And your boy?"
"Clara is as well as she ever will be,
Miss Dormer," Ernest Hoffmann said,
not too cordially. "She will never walk
again, the doctor says, but she is
atronger and patient—she is always
that, you know."
"I do know," Madge said, with a
catch in her breath. "I knew Clara
before you did, Mr. Hoffmann, and I
can bear witness to her sweetness."
"You did. I beg your pardon, Miss
Dormer." Ernest Hoffmann flushed
a little.
The professor, mildly uneasy, put in
a half apologetic remark, after the
blundering masculine fashion. "Madge
Is very fond of your wife, Hoffmann;
always was, through all."
"I appreciate Miss Dormer's devo
tion," Ernest Hoffmann said, with a
stiff bow. Madge held her head erect
and looked at him with an angry light
in her eyes.
"I appreciate Mr. Hoffmann's mag
nanimity," she said, Icily. "Papa, we
shall be late if we don't hurry. Good
by, Mr. Hoffmann; my kind love to
Clara. O, by the bye, how is Ulric?"
"Ulric is ill," Ernest Hoffmann said,
shortly. "Mr. Dormer, a moment. Can
you tell me where Godfrith Ak is stay
ing?"
"Scnor Ludovico is it the Alexandra
Hotel and Ak is with him, of course,"
the professor said, as he turned away,
hurried by the danger signals flying in
his daughter's face.
"How she hates me!" Ernest Hoff
mann sighed, as lie went through the
park In the March wind and sunshine.
"I suppose she thinks a clerk had no
right to marry her cousin. Ah! Clara
doeH not think so—yet. How that lad
played—no wonder Ulric dreams of
him. And I wonder if he will come— —"
The wonder remained when he sat In
yie luxurious sitting room at the Alex
andra, facing the lmpressario, a big,
handsome Italian, with an enormous
bpard.
"Yes, his playing is a marvel," Signor
Ludovico said, placidly scanning Hoff
mann's shabby figure; "but I have
brought forth several marvels in my
time. That reminds me," with a glance
at the clock, "my time Is limited at
present—you will pardon me, Mr. Hoff
mann, I am sure."
"My business is—l came to ask a
favor, Signor Ludovico," Ernest Hoff
mann said, desperately. "My little son
is very ill; he has not slept for four
nights, and all his cry is for Godfrith
Ak."
"Indeed!"
"Dr. Horz says if Ulric could hear
him play it might cure him."
"I fail to see how it can be managed,"
the lmpressario said, with a smile. "Do
you, Mr. Hoffmann?"
"Let Godfrith Ak come and play to
my boy," Ernest Hoffmann pleaded.
"That is the only way."
"An impossible way," the lmpressario
said, harshly. "Quite impossible, r
will not have my market cheapened.
Godfrith Ak's playing has its market
value."
"But, my boy "
"What do I care for your boy? Here
have I bred up Godfrith and brought
him out, and I will not have him go
playing to every ailing child. I tell
you I will not have it. Besides, God
frith is ill himself, Mr. Hoffmann (he
slid smoothly into a different tone); it
is impossible."
"He must come," Ernest said, dully.
"Ulric has asked for him all day."
"He is ill," the impressario said,
fiercely; "do you hear? He shall not
go."
"My boy is dying, I tell you," Er
nest said as fiercely, "and he must
come. I will pay you anything "
"He shall not "
"I will come." Ernest Hoffmann
faced round with a smothered cry; the
boy's entrance had been so noiseless
and so unexpected. The impressario
muttered an oath as he turned also
and met the little fiddler's grave, dark
eyes.
"You are ill, Godfrith," he said, con
trolling his auger with an effort. "Mr.
Hoffmann will not persist when he
sees that."
The boy did look ill; even Ernest
Hoffmann's shortsighted eyes could see
how hollow the thin cheeks were and
how darkly the shadows lay under the
gray eyes.
Godfrith Ak laughed slightly and
shrugged his shoulders. "I am well
enough to play. I am always well
enough for that, impresario. Is your
son very ill, Mr. Hoffmann?"
"Very ill," said Ernest, sadly. "Will
you come, then?"
"I will come," Godfrith said, quietly.
Signor Ludovico caught his arm an
grily.
"I forbid it, Godfrith, do you hear? I
forbid It. Mr. Hoffmann, you persist
in this at your own risk."
"I choose to play," Godfrith Ak said,
looking at him with perfect coolness.
"Maestro mio, you can do a good many
tilings, but you cannot either make me
play or stop me from playing when I
choose."
The Impresario's face was purple
with anger as he answered; "You can
not go, and you shall not, Godfrith.
You ure 111, and you play in the Albert
Hall to-night."
"I will go to play for your son," God
frith said quietly, "or else I will not
play In the hall at all."
"But you shall play," stormed the
Impresario, "or I will make you suffer
for it, Godfrith Ak. I will not be
cheated! I "
"You cannot make me play, Signor
Ludovico!" Godfrith said, still quietly,
hut with a flush on his sallow cheek.
"I will do as I please now. Up to this
I have done as you pleased, muestro
mio."
"You are an ungrateful little viper!"
the impresario said, hoarsely, "and I
will pay you for it, never fear, Godfrith
Ak! And as for you, sir "
"Take care how you bully Mr. Hoff
mann, maestro," Godfrith Ak said,
composedly. "There are policemen
outside!"
"If there were not "
"If there were not you would tie me
into a chair and starve me into submis
sion, as you did when we were in St.
Petersburg. Maestro, if you speak so
loud you will be too hoarse to sing 'Y
avait un 10! dc Thessalie' to-night."
The impresario choked and moder
ated his tone a little.
"You have the whip hand of me now,
Godfrith, but wait—but wait till I have
you under my hand again. Corpo dl
came! I will make you pay for this!"
"Of course you will, maestro," God
frith said, coolly, "and you may, but
to-day I will be master of my own
hands. So I will come, Mr. Hoffmann,
if you will wait two seconds."
He left the room and returned in
stantly with a plaid thrown over his
narrow, stooping shoulders and his vio
lin case under his arm.
"Come," he went on, with an Impish
laugh and a glance at the impresario,
scowling in his easy chair; "the maes
tro will recover when we are gone.
Do you live here, Mr. Hoffmann?" as
they emerged into the sunlit street.
"Quite close," Ernest Hoffmann said,
curtly, as they left the high road and
turned down narrow Savage street
Godfrith Ak gave a glance at the
dreary, demure houses right and left,
and laughed quietly to himself.
"Eden in tatters for somebody, I sup
pose. Do you live here, Mr. Hoff
mann?" as Ernest pushed open the
door of No. 330. "Have you any othei
children?"
"No," Ernest Hoffmann said, as he
pieeeded the little fiddler up the creak
ing stairs; "only this one—and his
mother is a cripple. This way. Clara,
he is here." Dark blue eyes met the
dark gray, in a long, inquiring glance;
then a thin hand, soft and white and
cold, went out to clasp the little fid
dler's thin, hot fingers and a soft voice
said;
"Oh, It is good of you to come—so
good! Ernest told you how ill our boy
was and how he longed to hear you
play? And your playing is a marvel.
How do you? Why " She with
drew her hand with a little cry.
"You are not a child at all, and I
thought "
"No, I am not a child," the little fid
dler said, looking at her puzzled face
with clear, candid eyes. "I am seven
teen. Yes (with a shrug) lam a child
in size, I know—l stopped growing
when I was nine."
"Are you n gypsy? Forgive me,"
Clara said, with a pretty blush, "hut it
has been said so—and 1 wondered if it
was true."
"I am of gypsy blood on one side,
madame," Godfrith Ak answered—"the
mother's."
"I am afraid," Clara said, as he
opened the violin case and took the in
strument out, handling it lovingly,
"you ought not to have come out in
this east wind. You have been ill,
surely ?"
"No." Godfrith said, quietly. "X am
never strong, madame. But I am never
ill, cither. Shall I begin to play now,
niadnmc? Where is your boy?"
"In the next room through that
open door. If you will be so kind. Er
nest," as her husband made as if he
would follow the little fiddler to his
boy's bedside, "let them be alone to
gether, dear. Our guest will like It bet
ter, I know. Madge would say I am
absurdly fanciful, dear," as he came
to her side with a surprised face. "But
I feel as if you had brought here a
good fairy who will cure our Ulric,
and—what is that ho is playing?"
"A cradle song, madame," Godfrith
answered for himself, through the open
doorway. "It is a Norwegian lullaby."
The lullaby crooned softly nway into
silence, and then Clara from her couch
saw the little fiddler bend swiftly over
the bod and kiss licr boy's flushed, de
lighted face with a murmured "So, this
is better than the Albert Hall."
Then he took up his bow again and
drew it over the strings in a swift,
dainty dance measujc, all light, airy
passages, through which Clara could
almost hear the movement of dancing
feet. She listened for a few minutes
with a half smile on her lips; then her
eyes, puzzled nnd half afraid, went
wistfully to meet the little fiddler's,
and came back to her husband's face
with an unsatisfied fear in their blue
depths. "Ernest, do I know that song?
It seems so—and I wish almost—l wish
he would not play it "
"Madame, I am half way through it.
I must go on to the bitter end now,"
tbe little fiddler called to her, with a
tremble of laughter in his voice. "I
shall soon have done."
"I don't like it," Clara murmured,
distressfully. "I seem to know It,
and "
She lay listening in silence for some
minutes, then the fear in her eyes kin
dled into a flame, nnd she caught at
her husband's hand with the look of
a terrified child.
"Ernest, I remember; it is the 'Dance
of Death,' that the Bohemian gypsies
play. Stop him "
"My dear Clara " Her terror
made even unimaginative Ernest
llolTmann turn pale, nnd he turned yet
paler when the music stopped in the
middle of an airy dance movement.
* * * "On the 26th inst., suddenly,
of heart disease, Godfrith Ak, violin
ist." That was what the third para
graph of the Telegraph said, but Clarn
Hoffmann, sobbing over the newspaper
cutting, cried: "I told you I knew that
dance—and the gypsies say that death
always comes to player or hearer—one
or the other. But one of the two can
choose which it shall kill or cure, so
they say. And look, dear, I am sure
that Godfrith Ak knew the legend, and
that he chose it should be Ulric who
should be healed. I know it." And
her husband did not say her nay.—
Black and White.
BTlie Deepest Lake.
I-nke Baikal, in Siberia, seems to be
the deepest lake in the world. Xt is
4300 feet deep, its surface being 1350
feet above sen-level, and the bottom
some 3000 feet below.
The trouble with a voung man who
has a brilliani future before him is
i bar he so seldom catches up with It.
A FARM OF 50,000 ACRES
A GREAT OKLAHOMA RANCH AND
HOW IT IS RUN.
Grain Vlen mat Cover a Vast Territory
—Tho Ilnnch Drought Proof. Frost
Proof, Flood Proof—System of I>oubl©
Profits—Novel Farming Plans.
A ranch of 50,000 acres is not consid
ered extra largo when the land Is
stocked with wild long-horned Texas
steers and there are no fences around
It, writes tho Wichita (Kan.) corres
pondent of the Sun. But If 50,000
acres bo cut up into fields and fenced
in pastures and the whole placed under
one management, It makes a farm
worth considering among the many big
things of the Western country.
In Northern Oklahoma there lies a
tract of 50,000 fertile acres, all sur
rounded by one fence and under one
management. It is known as the 101
ranch. George W. Miller & Sons op
erate the ranch property, the land Itself
being owned by the Ponca and Otoe
tribes of Indians. They pay the In
dians $22,500 annually for the use of
this land, $1.25 an acre for farming
land and 25 cents an acre for pasture
lands.
In the Southwest there are many
large ranches and farms, but none
equals the 101 ranch In extent. The
Sherman farm, in Western .Kansas,
has under fence about 30,000 acres,
and there are pastures iu both the
Creek and the Osage ludian nations
covering 60,000 or 70,000 acres, but as
a strictly farm ranch the 101 outclasses
all of them.
The annual expeuses of the ranch
are $75,000. Two hundred men are
employed during the busiest seasons,
fifty to seventy being employed the
year round. The fence line of the
ranch is more than 150 miles long. The
profits are $150,000 pel" annum.
The 101 ranch Is so large that half
the time the superintendent at head
quarters cannot tell where one-third of
his employes are working. That Is,
he could not tell offhand, but by con
sulting his assistant and using his tele
phone he would have them located.
The season of hardest work has just
ended and the men are resting after
the harvest. The ranch harvested 150,-
000 bushels of wheat and a like amount
of corn this summer. There were SOOO
acres in wheat and 3000 acres sown In
corn.
The wheat is sold in the Kansas City
market at from sixty to sixty-three
cents a bushel. The profit from wheat
alone this year has been more than
$40,000. The profit on corn Is quite
as much, while 10,000 steers are mar
keted every season.
Joseph Miller, once a bank President,
Is manager of the business affairs of
the ranch. He employs experts in ev
ery department. The wheat and corn
fields are managed by an expert farm
er, the cattle arc bought and sold by
an expert stock salesman. There Is
even an expert bunco buster or two
to attend to the breaking of young
mules brought upon the ranch to do
the farm work.
The 101 ranch is conducted so that
nothing goes to waste and every acre
of ground is utilised. There is a sys
tem for the management of each de
partment.
The system of wheat producing on
the 101 ranch lias been widely copied
throughout the Southwest and has been
the foundation of excellent yields in
many parts of Kansas, Oklahoma and
Nebraska. It is so effective that the
ranch lias produced forty bushes of
wheat to the acre, while neighboring
farmers have raised less than fifteen.
The average yield is eighteen bushels
to the acre.
The wheat grown on the ranch comes
from seed brought from Russia and
Australia. Some wheat is also brought
from Paraguay. This is known as
May frost proof wheat and late frosts
have little or no effect upon the grow
ing stems.
The corn seed comes from Paraguay
and is said to be drouth proof. The
cost of sowing wheat and harvesting
it, including the cost of the seed, Is
$0.05 an acre, while even the most eco
nomical wheat growers of Kansas can
not harvest this cereal for less than
$0.65 an acre.
Land that is to be sown in wheat is
plowed in late July and sown broad
cast in Kaffir corn. In October, after
the Kaffir corn has grown, several
inches above the ground, the wheat
is drilled in without any other cultiva
tion of the ground.
Gattle arc then allowed to run on
the Kaffir corn until April. Mean
while the wheat coutinues to grow, but
cannot get high enough above the
ground for winter frosts to destroy it.
The cattle keep it eaten off at the top
of the ground and it earns for the own
ers of these cattle a good profit in fat
meat when shipping time comes.
The Kaffir earn when once eaten off
does not come up again and thus does
not intcrfer with the growing of the
wheat in the spring. On the other
hand, tho dry under stubble crowds
?ack the weeds, and gives the threshers
a clean field of grain.
Corn planting begins in April. The
cultivating is finished by early June.
Then another double planting scheme
is carried out.
Between the rows of corn, cow peas
are sown. The cow peas do not need
suushlne in order to grow, and by the
time the corn is harvested the cow
peas are ready for the cattle. Cow
pens make excellent food for cattle and
cost little.
The greatest profit derived from any
field, so far as feeding cattle is con
cerned, comes from the Kaffir corn.
Tills costs about $5.15 for two acres,
and it will put $lO worth of fat upon a
steer.
Plowing and harvesting are carried
on on n large scale. During the whe<
cutting season, 'when 10,000 acres of
yellow grain stand ripening in the hot
snn, the managers of the ranch are on
the lookout for men from every source.
From 200 to 300 arc employed, and
they get $2 a day. Four hundred mules
are kept on the farm and are used dur
ing the harvest and corn husking
times.
The main ranch headquarters Is three
miles from Bliss, Oklahoma, on tho
Texas division of the Santa Fe Rail
way. Scattered about the ranch are
small houses wherein live the workers.
Cattle shipments are made to the
Kansas City markets, both in Decem
ber and July. All cattle fed on the
ranch are under three years old, and
are bought in Texas. Considerable
money has been made by the Miller
boys by buying yearling mules, keep
ing them on the ranch one or more
years, breaking them and then, after
getting one season's work out of tho
animals, selling them.
The 101 people are almost drouth
proof. That Is, when a drouth affects
their wheat it fails to catch their late
corn. If it takes the corn, wheat and
Kaffir corn are saved. Some of the
wheat Is sown on upland, some in the
valleys, so It is almost impossible for
cither a drouth or a flood to ruin the
entire crop. In this way no year comes
that will sweep away the profits en
tirely.
Seventy Yoari a Preacher.
Mr. Robert Cleaver Chapman died
on the 12th of June at Barnstable with
in seven months of the date on which
he would have completed his 100 th
year, says the London Times. Tho
son of Sir George Chapman, then the
representative of this country at the
Court of Copenhagen, he was born in
Denmark on January 4, 1803. He was
called to the bar in George IV.'s reign,
and for a few years traveled the West
ern Circuit. Moved by deep religious
convictions, he relinquished his profes
sion when still under thirty, and, after
a short period of itinerant preaching
lu Spain, settled down at Barnstable
to devote his life to good works. For
seventy years—under three British sov
ereigns—he conducted religious serv
ices in that town, ministering for
almost the entire period to a congrega
tion of Plymouth Brethren. His de
votional writings attained considerable
circulation, and he was constantly re
ceiving visitors from all parts of the
United Kingdom, and even from
abroad. Mr. Chapman spoke seven
languages with fluency. The funeral
on Tuesday was attended by members
of the Brethren community from va
rious parts of the kingdom.
One Hundred Years of Trousers.
Most people will be surprised to hear
that trousers, as at present worn by
the male portion of humanity, have
just celebrated their centenary, but,
according to Fashion, such is undoubt
edly the case. Tlicy "came in" on ac
count of the high living provnlent a
hundred years ago. This produced a
good deal of gout, whose twinges the
tight-fitting costume in use at that
period made unbearable. Hence the
invention of the wider form of gar
ment, which soon became popular and
was adopted by many royal personages
at home and abroad. Among the dan
dles of the period, however, the new
style was regarded with contempt, and
when Almnek's was at Its height as a
fashionable resort, the great Duke of
Wellington was once refused admission
because he presented himself In trou
sers instead of tho (for that time) or
thodox nether garments. So far has
their sway now extended that they
threaten to supplant even the Scottish
kilt.—London Telegraph.
The Welsbach Mantle.
On the coast of Brazil is a large de
posit of monazite sand, resembling sea
sand, but somewhat more yellowish
and brownish, which contains several
per cent, of the oxides of thorium and
cerium, says the Gas World. This sand
is shipped principally to England and
Germany, where these elements are
extracted and sold as nitrades, which
are soluble in water, and with them
mantle manufacturers make solutions
into which the knitted cotton fabric is
dipped, subsequently dried and the cot
ton burned, leaving a net work of ox
ides of thorium and cerium in tho pro
portion of ninety-nine parts of the for
mer to one of the latter. To protect
this delicate fabric from breakage it is
dipped into collodion, which upcu evap
oration stiffens the mantle and is read
ily burned off after the mantle is put
In place upon the burner.
Mistake of a Bridegroom.
An unfortunate mistake was made
by a bridegroom in Canada a week or
two ago, says tho Loudon Express.
After getting into the train which
was to take himself and his spose
away on their honeymoon he noticed
a shoe lying on tho floor of the car
riage. Thinking one of his friends had
thrown it there during the send-off ho
picked it up and flung it out of the
window.
A little later on he was surprised to
see a commercial traveler who had
awakened from a deep sleep peering
under the seats and on the top of the
rack, and inquiring if any one had seen
a shoe, which he had taken off to ease
his corns.
Then the bridegroom discovered his
mistake, and the first purchase of his
married life was a new pair of shoe
for an absolute stranger.
Largest Cut Diamond.
The largest cut diamond in the world
is that belonging to the Rajah of Mai
i tan, iu Borneo. Its weight is 370
carats.
Torchon lace of any pattern can now
lie made by one muchine, owing to a
recent invention in Vienna.
BEARS BECOMING PLENTIFUL.
Good Sport Hunting Bruin In Penn.yl*
v.ni. and New York.
"Bears are getting thicker every year
in the Adirondacks, and in a few years,
if the woods have proper care, theife
ought to be good sport bear hunting
again." said one of the guides at the
recent sportsman's show.
"The same is true of Pennsylvania."*
he continued, "and they are
there in the mountain country now
than they have been before in years."
"How do you account for it?" the
guide was asked.
"It'g mostly a matter of fires," he
replied. "Of late years there's been
special attention paid in Pennsylvania,
and up in the north woods, to pre
venting any burning over of the
ground, whether it has been lumbered
or not, and this is the best thing that
could happen for the bears.
"There's nothing will put bears out
of business like a forest fire, and some
years ago, when nobody cared much
whether the woods were burned out ol
not, these animals were mostly wiped
out.
"You see, a Are can't be dodged nor
run away from once it gets a-going,
and when a she bear and a couple of ,
cubs get caught in a patch of wood" i
that's on fire, it's good-by Bruin. The '
old one might have sense enough to
get to a stream or a lake if there's one
handy, and live through it, but the cubs
get dazed, and. are as liable to run
straight into it as not. Bear cubs
don't have much sense, anyhow, and
some of the old ones, however much
cunning they have in some things, are
about the easiest fooled of any animal
nlive.
"When a fire is coming an old beat
will sometimes make for a hollow log
or a hole under a rock, and then, if it's
much of a fire, the chances are that he
gets so suffocated with smoke that he
makes a break for the open, only to
get singed and finally roasted. I've
seen bears fight a swarm of bees or a
big snake and get nwny with them,
but I've seen lots of bear carcases on
fresh-burned patches of woods. 1
"Another thing, which goes to show
that bears ain't real cute, is that they
have no end of curiosity, which is what
used to do for the deer when they had
jack hunting up in the North Woods.
You take a long, square box, heavily
built, and drive spikes through into
one. end. which Is left open, witli the
spikes slanted downward somewhat,
and then fasten a piece of meat in the
other end of the box, and you've got a
first-class bear trap. Along comes old
Mr. Bruin, who sniffs the box, and
pokes in his head as far as he can, one
end which is left open, with the spikes,
catch him in the neck, get tangled ID
his hair, and all he can do is to waddle
and roll and go backward. If the box
is chnlned, lie's 'in for life,' and it's
easy to go and finish him.
"You'd lie surprised how fast a bear
will travel. Take it in the woods that
hnve been lumbered, so there are op-ivJ
spaces and plenty of room in the un
dergrowth, and an old bear will make
eight or ten miles an hour, while a cub
will make six without panting a bit.
I've sighted bears when the first snow
came and chased them for two days,
they gaining all the time. Of course
when there's much snow they can't
make such good time.
"I was out n few days in the Penn
sylvania woods and helped get an old
hoar and two culls tills year. I was
tohl that not less than fifly to seventy
five laid been killed In the northern line
of counties next to New York State
this year. If the fires can only be
prevented there ought to lie as good
sport bear hunting in a few years as
there ever was. They'll never get
back to the Adirondacks so thick as
they were forty years ago. There's
too many camps."—Philadelphia Times.
Great Heat of Meteors.
Ordinarily the meteors that flash
across the sky at stated periods of time
burn themselves out iu the upper air,
but occasionally a meteoric mass lasts
long enough to l-eacli the earth. One
fell on May 15, 1900, at Felix, Ala.,
Meteors were seen on the occasion re
ferred to and sundry explosions were
heard, while later on a mass of
meteoric substance weighing seven
pounds was discovered embedded in
soft soil. This meteorite was analyzed
and found to be built up of such min
erals as olivine, augite, triolite. nickel
iron and graphite carbon.
The dark color of the Felix stone Is
stated to lie due to the presence iu fair
amount of the last named substance.
The interest attaching to meteorites, of
course, centres around the fact that
they enable us to obtain glimpses of
the composition of other worlds than
ours. Astronomy is well agreed on the
unity of chemical composition which--
marks the orbs, and even the simple
fact that it is hydrogen gas which
biases in the sun and gives us our light
and heat is a testimony to this fact.
Meteoric carbon and iron similafly dis
play links between these erratic bodies
and our own earth.
The llrtri-Ht of the Glaclera.
Tile shrinking of the Swiss glaciers
is noted on many pages of Baedeker.
Some notes iu a Swiss contemporary
show how rapidy the diminution is pro
ceeding. One glacier in particular in
the Arolla Valley is declared to "have
lost more than 500 yards in the last
quarter of a century. M. Anzevin, in
deed, the well known hotel keeper, who
has spent every summer at Arolla _
since 1860, expresses the opinion that
the famous Col do Collon will present
ly cease to be a glacier pass. Should
that happen it will be an interesting
reversion to the earlier state of things.
The old chronicles of Evolenu record
that iu the Middle Ages the inhabitants
of the valley used habitually to drive
their cattle over the pass to take them
to market at Aosta.