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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 19, 1905)
To-Ty&y We cannot anchor In thy bay. There is no holding ground; , We cannot linger by the way. Our barque is outward bound; Tet, as we skirt thy blissful shore. We fain would with thee stay. For we shall never see thee more. Sweet Island of To-day. We know not whither we are bound. We sail the unknown sea; We seek a port where may be found Our heart’s desire, yet we Know not our course, with wind and tide We simply sail away; Tet we would fain with thee abide. Sweet Island of To-day. —W. Harry Stone. (Copyright. 1905, by Dally Story Pub. Co-1 For a long time I held the dainty, violet-scented envelope unopened in my hand. What train of memories this pint envelope and that subtle fragrancy of violet brought to my blase heart! How it recalled the hot years ot my youth during which I had sown a rather profuse crop of wild oats. At that time those scented notes, some pink, some blue, some lavender, had formed the bulk of my correspondence and had carried with them the delightful touch of intrigue which a wild youth would naturally crave. But to-day, why should I re ceive one—I, a married man? I turned the letter over three or four times, then tore it open and read the following words written in a crumpted handwriting I had never seen before: ‘‘Dear Old Tony—Though it may be folly to make such invitation to a married man, I risk it any way. I will be this evening at 10:30 in room No. 16 of the Bon Ton Cafe and will wait for you. “One who loves you, “Z.” I was astounded. What could this mean? Who was this mysterious “Z” who could be so bold as to make such rendezvous at the Bon Ton, one of the gayest restaurants of the city! In my younger days I wouldn’t have hesitated a second—but now I had a wife, a weak, babyish, clinging crea ture, whose childish ways were some what tiresome, that’s true, but whom I deeply loved. I crushed the note with an impatient gesture, then lit a match and watched it burn, a right eous frown upon my brow. Such fol lies were not for me. I would not go. By six o'clock I 'had changed my : mind and had persuaded myself that my very life depended upon my going to that rendezvous. For the first time since my marriage I was embarrassed before my wife during the dinner, which I barely tasted. I could only reply in monosyllables to her gay, childish prattle. When dinner was over, and as the maid removed the dishes, she came and sat on the arm of my chair and with her fingers tried to erase the frown which my conflicting thoughts had caused to gather on my brow. “Is my darling worried about some thing?” she asked, as her blonde head nestled on my shoulder. “Yes, sweetheart,” I replied, thank ful that her eyes were lower and she could not see my face. “I am more than worried, for I am deeply disap pointed. I had planned to spend the evening with you, as usual, but a business appointment with a man from out of town will call me, back to the office this evening, and it may be midnight—maybe later—before I can get home. With her eyes still averted from mine, but with a little quiver of the body, like a child about to sob, she said in disappointed tones: “You surely are not going out again to-night. Can’t that horrid business wait until to-morrow. A married man 6hould stay home with his wife.” That last sentence sounded as a re proach to my already alarmed con science, but I again f9rced it to sil ence by assuring myself that my sole reason for going was to protect this tender, clinging girl from some bru tal revelation of my past wayward life. “Yes, yes, I know,” I hurried to reply, “but it is for your sake, little one, that I must go.” “For my sake?” she questioned with pouting lips, but still without looking up. “Yes, for your sake, dearest Is it not for you I work, to give you all these fine clothes in which your soul “Why should I receive one?” delights, this home which is the envy i«f other women, this-” She threw her arms around my neck, and sealing my lips with a kiss, cried in a nervous, half-sobbing, half laughing voice: *fOh, I know that all women of our set envy me, I have everything I want but, oh Tony what I care for the most, what would kill me to Jose or share with another, is your love I could not live if I thought that you could even think of another.” That old nuisance of a conscience again raised a reproaching voice and I was about to say that business could wait and that I would not re turn to the office, when a vision of that oink, violet-scented note passed before my mind’s eye and my good resolution came to naught. I must know the author of that letter. I bowed to my wife passionate pro testations of love, I soothed her half hysterical emotion, then getting into my overcoat, I made my escape. Instead of taking the car, I decided to walk down town. It was yet two hours to the appointed time and I wanted to collect my thoughts. I did not feel at my ease, I knew I was do ing wrong, yet I felt powerless to re sist, and I walked and bit discontent edly at my <Sigar. I pulled back the hood, and then started back wtth a cry. When I reached the business part of the, city it was still too early so I amused myself by walking past the lighted stores and watching the crowd which passed and repassed in never ceasing flow. So keen was my preoccupation that I forgot myself in the maze of my thoughts and only returned to reality when my eyes encountered the white dial of a street clock, and I saw that this indicated twenty-eight minutes past ten. I reached the Bon Ton cafe just as the clock struck the half hour. As the flunkey showed me up to room 16 he winked in a knowing way and said: “Deuced pretty woman, but so ner vous and timid. Hasn’t been a round er long.” More anxious than ever I followed my guide. Before No. 16 he paused, saying: “She’s In there, waiting for you.” “Has supper been ordered?” I asked. “No, sir. Shall we send up some thing. ‘sauterne’ and oysters, for in stance, followed by-” “Yes, perhaps,” I interrupted, hast ily. “But wait until I order. I will ring if we want anything.” He bowed and left me. All this was so familiar and yet so strange, that my head was in a whirl. “Time to retreat,” kept saying the still, small voice of duty, but I had gone too far, I must know all. I knocked. A sweet voice called to enter. I opened the door and stepped in. At the farther end of the room, a wom an sat, huddled in a chair, a dainty white and pink opera wrap covered her shoulders, the hood of which con cealed both her hair and face. I hesi tated, my heart thumped disorderly against my bosom. At last, oppressed by the mysterious silence, I walked resolutely toward the woman who had not stirred since I had entered. “Well, I’m here,” I said in tones I tried to make stern. “Will you kindly tell me the meaning of your note. Who are you, anyway?” With a quick movement I pulled back the hood, then started back with a cry, the mysterious woman was— my wife! A peal of hysterical laughter greet ed my discomfiture, then Metta's voice said: “So this is the business, this is the way you love your wife, this—oh, my heart is broken!” And before I had time to recover from my astonishment, she had drop ped back on her chair, her bosom con vulsed with wild, passionate sobbing. In an instant my resolution was taken. My future happiness depended on my regaining Metta’s confidence, half of her love depended on the blind trust she had placed in me. I was on my knees before her in a minute and was saying in tones I tried to make stern and commanding: “See here, Metta, don’t be a fool. Do you think I would have come if I had not recognized your handwriting. Poor little girl, you did try to disguise it, but such things don’t work with eyes sharpened by love. I knew that you had written the note but the idea struck me as novel, this mysterious meeting in a down town cafe with my own wife. So I let you come.” Well, if sometimes Metta’s childish, trusting mediocrity of intellect has fatigued me, I blessed it that night, since thanks to it, she credited my words and saved me from a very awkward position. Only I can assure you that I have sworn off answering pink notes or vio let scented ones. Subway Parlor Car. The first parlor car hSs made its appearance on the New York subway, being intended for the directorate and staff. STRIKING FACTS ABOUT SLEEP, One »# the Most Mysterious of the Ways of Nature. “Shakespeare,” said a scientist, “called sleep the ape of death. That is a striking name for a striking thing. Sleep is a wonderland. Let us ex plore it. “Self-hypnotism is a mysterious force that we can exercise on our selves in sleep alone. We are all self-hypnotists. We all, on certain nights, tell ourselves firmly that we must not oversleep, that the next morning—at 4, at 5 or 6 precise ly we must wake up. Our sleep ing selves respond to the hyp notic suggestion made the night be fore by our waking selves. That is mysterious and striking, isn’t it? Still more mysterious and striking, though, is the fact of our keeping track of the time somehow in our slumber. How on earth do we do that? “It is impossible to do without sleep. Men have slept standing, even running. They have slept in battle, under fire, with guns roaring on all sides. They have slept in unendur able and deadly pain. “There is no torture equal to that which the deprivation of sleep entails. The Chinese are the cruelest folks on earth, and the most ingenious of tor turers. Well, the Chinese place the deprivation of sleep at the head of their torture list. “Sleep is a state of rest. The heart rests in sleep. The heart is a rhythmic muscle, not one that never reposes, but one that works at short shifts, like a puddler, a moment on, a mo ment off. Well, when we sleep, the heart's shifts of rest are redoubled. It works then, one on, two off, getting, indeed, pretty nearly as much repose as we do. “The brain in sleep becomes pale and sinks below the level of the skull. When we are awake the brain is high and full and ruddy. “Not only the brain and heart, but even the ear glands rest in sleep. That is why when we awake we al ways rub our eyes. The rubbing is an instinctive action that stimulates the stagnant tear glands and causes them to moisten properly our eyes all dried from their inaction.” FISH HAD BEEN LIVING HIGH. Milked Cows Which Cooled Off in Ir rigation Ditches. They were exchanging fish stories, says the San Francisco Call. “To change the subject,” interrupt ed Charles D. Pierce, “I’ve been hav ing a deuce of a time ■with some of my dairy stock up on the ranch. The ranch covers a lot of reclaimed land in the San Joaquin river system, where the soil is the richest in the world and beautifully adapted to dairy ing. But during the warm weather of the last several weeks everything has been going wrong with the cows. I have some imported shorthorns that hold world records as producers of cream and butter, but, strange to re late, all of their records have been go ing wrong. “We got a pint and a half from one of our biggest milk producers one day and a lot of the other stock fell off amazingly. There was nothing wrong with their feed, for the grass is a foot high in the pasture. We’ve been opening the floodgates and letting the river water run into the ditches and during the hot weather the cows have been lying around in the water half the time. I thought this might have something to do with the trouble, but we didn’t solve the mystery until one of the dairy hands went fishing the other day and brought in some carp that he caught in one of the ditches. The river is full of immense carp and large numbers of them had passed through the floodgates into the pas ture. Say, you won't believe it, but the carp that fellow caught were full of milk up to their eyebrows. Those ravenous fish have been milking those shorthorns all summer.” Wanted to Be in Time. “I would like to look at some house hold goods,” said the tall brunette as she entered the big furniture store. “You see, I expect to be married soon.” “Ah, indeed,” smiled the polite clerk, “just step this way. We have special inducements for young cou ples just starting in housekeeping. When is the glad event to come off?” “Well—er—the day hasn't been set as yet.” “Oh, I see; the lucky young man has just proposed and-” “No, he hasn’t proposed yet, but-” “Ah, he is going to propose. How long has he been calling?” “Well, he hasn’t started calling yet, but-” “What is the young man’s name?” “Really, I don’t know at present, but mamma says she thinks some nice young man will start calling soon, so I wanted to be in time.” Missings at Night. Late, late, so late We learn the way to live; Late, late, so late We find what life may give; We spend our years with lavish hand Their worth we do not understand, Till, late, late, so late. Late. late, so late We learn what living means; Late, late, so late We prize the dew-hung scenes; We fling away the coin of youth And do not learn to prize the truth. Till, late, late, so late. Late. late, so late We learn how sweet Is love; Late, late, so late We find ’tis from above; We loiter in forbidden ways And do not learn to hoard our days. Till, late, late, so late. Late, late, so late • We learn the gold from dross; Late, late, so late We learn to kiss the cross; We prize our youth when it takes flight. We do not read life's book aright. Till, late, late, so late —Chicago Chronidle. Appropriately Named. “■What did you think of that cigar gave you? It was an Admiral, you know.” “Well, well, how appropriate! There’s something about that cigar that’s suggestive of an admiral.” “What’s that?” “It’s rank,” and he might have added that it made him sea sick.—New Yorker. Soil Depletion Unnecessary. A noted writer in a contemporary recently stated that ‘’all soils will be depleted in time,” a view of the mat ter which is so erroneous that already the author is being taken to task by other experienced agriculturists. The trend of what appears in the agricul tural papers from month to month up on the subject of plant food in soils is perhaps the conclusion arrived at by the writer referred to, and it may be well for farmers to fear that soil will inevitably “play out” in time, but when all is considered it becomes apparent at least that there is no real need of such depleting taking place. It is a fact that soil cropped year after year for a long time with the same crop will gradually lose one or more of the foods or soil ingred ients needed to the welfare of that particular crop, and for this reason that special crop will there fail to thrive, while other crops not depen dent upon the presence of the special ingredient lacking may thrive fairly well for a time. A soil then becomes depleted for one crop, but may do well enough for some other crop, as has been seen in the history of the wheat fields of tae country. Change of crop tends to renovate land, in that it gives cne soil a chance to recuper ate from its past trial and store up fresh hoards of that ingredient which was sapped in its assimilable form but not exhausted in its dormant form. By proper rotation of crop6, by raising and feeding of live stock, by growing clover and legumes such as peas, beans, etc., no soil need be come too depleted to raise profitable crops, and by additional use of artifi cial fertilizers any soil may become richer than it was originally although long used for the production of farm crops. Such is the history of wide areas of poor land in Europe and even in some of our eastern states. They ran down for a time by successive cropping without proper rotation, but after intelligent methods of cropping, stock feeding and soil fertilization were introduced they were renovated and now bear crops abundantly. Un der the circumstances it is well to understand that soils may become de pleted, but no one should conclude that depletion is inevitable in the fu ture.—A. S. Alexander in Farmers’ Review. Growing Alfalfa. When I first commenced to grow alfalfa it was a hard matter for me to get a good stand. I tried to grow it on land underlaid by an impermeable subsoil, and soon found that this would not pay. Alfalfa does better in fields not to be passed through, and to have good success in cultivating it, the subsoil must be in a first-class condition. I also find that the fields should be well drained, as it will not stand flooding of stagnant water. It is better, I think, not to pasture alfalfa, as the yield of hay or green fodder will be larger than that which has been pastured. When an alfalfa field is pastured the stock tramps down the soil, which hinders its growth. And I find that when the stems are grazed the stains die down, and of course the shoots come from the upper part of the root, and this is one reason that I do not believe alfalfa fields should be pastured. The stems of many other forage plants when cut branch out above the ground, forming shoots that grow up and take the place of the old stems, but with alfalfa the vitality of the roots may be much im paired if the young stems are grazed as fast as they appear, because the new growth comes from the roots. Alfalfa requires clean ground, and should not be sown on weedy fields, as weeds can easily crowd it out. Al falfa should be cut for hay when the flowers appear, for if we wait many days after, the stems become tough. The yield of hay is not so large, but the quality is a great deal better than that not cut so early. On an average I make from three to three and a half tons of hay per acre on some of the land which is adapted to its culti vation. 1 break the ground and fer tilize it with lime, which holds the land. In curing alfalfa I make it up in piles five or six feet high and watch it carefully to keep it from heating and molding. I always cut the second crop for seed. If alfalfa hay is stack ed in the field it should be covered with a hay cap as it will not turn water. My average yield of seed per acre is from five to eight bushels, and as there is always a good demand for alfalfa seed all farmers should grow it.—J. S. Underwood, Johnson Co., 111., in Farmers' Review. Fostering the Wood Lot. Many of our farms have wood lots on them that are being rapidly cut over, but which would, if rightly han dled, give firewood for the farm for generations to come. There is one mistake being made in the handling of these wood lots to which attention should te called. That is permitting the trees to grow too far apart. The result is that the trees branch largely and branches are very difficult to work into stove wood. If they are to be sold they must generally be sold at a discount because they do not pack closely into the wagons. The amount of labor to work up such trees is so very great that there is little profit in the operation. What the farmer wants in his wood lot is a straight tree with numerous small branches. Such a tree works up easily into stove wood of any length. It packs closely on the wagon and the large trunks may be easily split by beetle and wedges. The farmer that has a wood lot that is growing too sparsely will do well to either plant seeds of the best kinds of fuel wood, or en courage the seedlings that have al ready started. The small trees should be encouraged to grow three or four feet apart rather than a rod apart.— Albert Bates, Du Page Co., m., in Farmers’ Review. Every farm should have a good herd of dairy cows and a nand separ ator. i The Round-Headed Apple Tree Borer. The scientific name of this Insect is Saperda Canida. The first mention we have of it was by Thomas Say in 1824. It is altogether probable, how ever, that it was common in the apple orchards in America from the first advent of Europeans that planted fruit trees. So far as is known, it is a native of America. Without doubt its chief stronghold was the wild crab apple trees, which are everywhere abundant in this country, and it is possible, also, that it attacked and lived on other members of the Rosa ceae family. The borer itself, that is, the slug, is about one inch in length and is a yellowish white. It has no1 feet. The head is small and brown in color and the jaws are black. The round-headed borer is one of the most destructive of the borers. Trees are very seriously injured by it, and frequently many are killed outright, some trees attacked by the round headed borer will blossom in the spring, tut fail to put forth leaves, their supply of sap having been ex hausted through the holes made ty the borers. Here and there trees are found entirely girdled by the borers. In such a case the tree is doomed. There is no question that any tree where even one borer resides is great ly injured by this unwelcome guest. But when a dozen are found in a single tree, it may well be concluded that its usefulness is past. The chief thing is to exclude the borer from the trees. Wherever there has been trouble from them the trees should be wrapped with some kind of material that will entirely exclude the borers. Some orchardists use wrapping paper, some manila paper, some tar papei or fine wire screen. This, if properly applied, will prevent the borers from attacking the tree. The efficacy oi these wrapping materials depends en tirely upon the skill and care with which they are put on. It is of no use to try to do a poor job in applying these protectors, for in that case la bor and expense are thrown away. The eggs are not deposited above two feet and a half from the ground. Therefore, if the wrapping material covers the tree for the lower two feet of the trunk it will be effective, pro vided it passes slightly under the soil at the bottom. Perhaps tarred paper or fine wire netting is the best, as this will not only exclude the bor ers, but will also prevent the ravages of mice, rabbits, and other small gnawing animals. The material used in fastening these wrappers should be such as will break upon the grow j ing of the tree. The use of strong ! wire, therefore, is excluded, as this would cut into the tree and have the effect of girdling it. It is well tc examine the trees during the late summer and early tail months for j eggs and young grubs, which can be readily detected and destroyed with a knife. Color of Clover Seed. Those who have examined clover seed must have noticed that there are three general kinds into which the colors may be divided. There is the yellow seed, the variegated seed ano I the brown seed. The brown seeds are now known to be of low germinative capacity, and their peculiar color is given by the prolonged action of rain on the seeds. This has been estab lished by taking yellow seeds and variegated seeds and wetting and dry ing them for a considerable time. Some agriculturists tested the germ inative power of average lots of clover seed imported from Russia and also some purchased in the United States In the Russian seed the germinations were: variegated seed, 87 per cent; yellow seed, 85.6 per cent; brown seed, 13.6 per cent. In the American seed, the germinations were: varie gated, 94.7 per cent; yellow. 94.2 pei cent; brown, 13 per cent It will thus be seen that the value of the brown seed was very slight. Experiments in the actual use of this seed seemed to show that the yellow seed pro duces a slightly larger yield of hay. The seeds in the Russian clover were carefully separated and the propor tions of each color were found to be as follows: variegated, 35.89 pet cent; yellow, 18.77 per cent; brown, 15.91 per cent; intermediate, 26.84 per cent; weed seed, 1.35 per cent; dirt, 1.25 per cent. In the American seed the corresponding figures were: varie gated, 32.9 per cent; yellow, 20.3 pet cent; brown. 19.07 per cent; inter mediate, 20.47 per cent; weed seed, 3.98 per cent; dirt, 3.98 per cent. It will thus he seen that in both kinds the per cent of fairly good germinable seed was only a little above 52 per cent. ^ Raising or Buying Small Fruit. We have always urged farmers to raise enough small fruit for their fam ily use. The proportion of farmers that raise enough fruit for their fam ilies is increasing from year to year, but yet there are many farmers that do not raise any kind of small fruit. Their stock argument is that it is cheaper to buy the fruit than to raise it That may be so in some cases, but even if it were so in all cases, the fact remains that most farmers do not buy fruit for their families; and if they do not raise it, their families do not get it. Every man can afford to raise all the fruit his family can use in a year, and if his fruit raising opera tions are properly conducted, they will require but little time throughout the year.—Farmers’ Review. Pruning to Secure Light. Some owners of orchards have dis covered that bitter-rot is less preva lent on trees open to the light of the sun. Experimenters have taken the hint and will henceforth prune to secure sunlight, as one means of controlling the disease known as bitter-ro*. Early maturity is the most Import ant point in breeding animals for mar ket and the chief thing to consider is to have stock that will make the most weight in the shortest time and on the leai.'t feed. All Were Safe Behind This Engineer - *-— Incident Shows Constant Watch- I ful Care Demanded of the Man Who Drives a Present Day Locomotive. “The quick perception of a locomo tive engineer and his watchful regard for the safety of his train were brought forcibly to my attention re cently,” said a traveler to the Bir mingham (Ala.) News. “We were speeding along at the rate of about thirty-five miles an hour on a wide tract of level country. It was a heavy trans-continental train carrying twelve cars. Suddenly the air brakes were applied with all their force and the cars came to such a violent halt as to almost hurl the passengers from their seats. The sleeping-car porter, who was mounted upon a step ladder engaged in turning on the lights, was forced to an acrobatic stunt in the middle of the aisle. The passengers hurried from the cars to learn the cause of the sudden stop. Those of them who had expected a collision when the first shock came peered out for the other train, but did not see one. It was just twilight and we were out on the prairie some miles from a station with not even a farmhouse in sight. “At second glance the engineer, a big, red-faced fellow clad in blue over alls, was seen making his way down by the side of his train with a drip ping torch in hand, peeping under th® coaches as he moved slowly on. H® was intent upon finding something; and from the earnestness of hi® search one would have been led to believe that he had lost his watch or his pocket book. ‘What’s the trou ble?’ called out a curious passenger, himself on the ground and, like the engineer, looking under the cars. ’A little bolt dropped out of the eccen tric of my locomotive, and if I had not stopped when I did the machine would have torn itself to pieces and perhaps wrecked the train,’ was the reply of the railroad man. ‘I must have that bolt, as I am without another to take its place,’ he continued, and going on with his search, he was rewarded by finding the coveted piece of steel. It was picked up under the trucks of the last sleeper, thus illustrating what a quick stop had been made. Gathering up the bolt the engineer returned to his locomotive, and, crawling under the iron monster, hammered for a few minutes and then scrambling cut, an nounced that he was ready to proceed on the journey. The passengers who had watched the operation climbed aboard again and we were ofT. The incident seemed simple, but, as I have said, it served to illustrate the quick perception and the keen caution of the man who had the safety of sever al hundred human lives in his hands." Romantic Girl That Knew Her Business ——— -m. __ Millionaire Aged Suitor Had No Bad Habits at Present but She Recognized Possibilities of the Future. The old multimillionaire crooked :>ne rheumatic kree at the feet of the beautiful debutante, while in the dis tance the orchestra was playing some eit motif from Rausmitthimsky’s sublime works, and the haunting mel ody filtered through the tropical vege tation that screened them from the dancers. “Miss Youngbudde—Ethel, i love you!” “But, O, Mr. Stocksandbonds, I—I,” stammered the sweet young thing, noting, however, that her official sten ographer and recording phonograph were in good acoustic positions. “Ah, Miss Ethel,” the old multimil lionaire was saying, “it is in the meri dian of life that we can appreciate woman’s worth and her cheering, di vine presence. All else have I— palaces, automobiles, yachts—but without you they are as nothing.” “Ah! Mr. Stocksandbonds,” blushed the debutante, “I would marry you. in * deed I would, but for one thing against you—your personal habits.” “But,” protested the old millionaire, with dignity, “I have always consid ered myself—and so have my friends —as a very criterion of morality and clean living. Unlike the worthless and poverty stricken young rakes of these days, Ethel, I am not only fabulously rich, but have absolutely no bad habits.” “That’s just it, Mr. Stocksandbonds; that is just why I must refuse you." said the girl, in a tone of infinite sad ness. “Impossible!” gasped the aged mill ionaire. “Do you mean to say that you would admire bad habits in a hus band?” Dreamily, sadly, the romantic youhg debutante pulled to pieces a red, red rose “Tell me,” persisted the suitor, “why you would wish to see me dissipated.” “Why, er—er. bad habits shorten life, you know," murmured the maid en. But then, reflecting that she could easily drive him to drink after mar riage. the romantic girl accepted the suitor.—New York Herald. To Use “Wireless” Through the Jungle Vast Stretches of South America to Be Equipped with the New Method of Communication— * Advantages to Commerce. Among the many important instal lations of wireless telegraphy already in operation, or soon to be construct ed, one. of the most interesting is the proposed line in Peru which is to be established between Puerto Bermudez and Iquitos, a distance of 1,000 kilo meters (621.37, miles). The reasons in fluencing the choice of wireless teleg raphy for this purpose apply with equal force in other places in South America and Africa, and are chiefly the superstition of the natives as re gards the wires and insulators and the difficulty of penetrating the for ests and jungles to construct an ordi nary line. In Peru it has been con sidered for some time of the greatest importance to establish communica tion between Lima and Iquitos, the main port on the Amazon, and while there was telegraphic communication across the Cordilleras, the wires did not extend beyond Puerto Bermudez, which was accordingly made the start ing point of the "wireless system. A contract has been awarded to a Ger man company to provide the appara tus, and this will give it a virtual monopoly of wireless telegraphs in Peru. Between Puerto Bermudez and Iqui tos the plan is to have three inter* mediate stations and ultimately to ex tend the line to Manaos on the Ama zon and then down the river to Para, thus affording direct communication between the Atlantic and Pacific coasts. There already is a cable up the Amazon, but the service is fre quently interrupted, and in the npper water the swift currents would have rendered the laying of such a means of communication impossible. As wireless telegraphy has proved suc cessful at sea, between islands, and over large tracts of land in Alaska, it is interesting to have a practical demonstration as to whether equally good results will be achieved in actual practice in the impenetrable forests of South America. If such is the case, there will be, without question, a wide application of the idea, as it will put within reach at small expense dis tricts otherwise quite isolated. Brought to Light 18th Century Sign Discovery Interesting to ArcheoU ogists Made by Accident at Glasgow, Scotland—Specimen of Exquisite Carving. A curious discovery was made the other day at the foot of the High street, Glasgow. The second house from the Tolbooth Steeple is “Hop kirk’s Land,” which contains the shop where David Dale, the great eight teenth century philanthropist, estab lished himself in business in the yarn and hosiery line. The building, of seventeenth century erection, remains much as It was in Dale's time. For many years a cellar beneath the house has been little used, but a few days ago a shelf which had served its day was cleared away, the support of which turned out to be Dale's long lost sign—a wool pack carved in wood and gilt. There was another eigh teenth century hosiery business in Glasgow which displayed the swing ing lamb—the Golden Fleece of old Spain, which was borne cm the ban ners of the great Duke of Alva •when invalling the Netherlands. Both signs are remembered, but if the lamb has been made into kindling wood, the wool pack is now in safe keeping, al though it is considerably the worse for haring rested on the flagged floor of a cellar for sixty years, and the gilt is now only discernable in parts. ' The carving of the wool pack has been done by a master hand, and it would be a good object lesson for wood carv ing students who are endeavoring to revive an almost lost art The lamb sign for the hosier's business Is very old. and has reference to St- Agnes, who suffered martyrdom in the year 306 when only 14 years of age. The saint has been usually depicted by ar tists with a lamb by her side. In days when the common people of England could not read printed signs, the fl.-st man in a town or village to set up business in yams and hosiery adopted the lamb sign. A competitor would choose the wool pack. Shah and Suite Dreaded the Darkness 2 Radium Exhibition Spoiled by Chiidieh Fright of Persians— Absence of Light Probably Held Suggestion of Assassination. There was an element of humor in the interview which took place in Paris between the shah of Persia and M. Curie, the French scientist. His majesty had expressed his desire to see the wonders of radium, so a tele gram was sent to M. Curie asking him to present himself at the Elysee pal ace hotel. "Your name and your great discov ery are known to us in Persia," said the shah, after the manner of an “Arabian Night” potentate address ing a magician. "I wish to see this famous radium, which is described as having the most marvelous powers.” “Sire,” replied M. Curie, "I can sat isfy your curiosity, but not here, for the light is too strong. In order that yn» m&y properly see the brilliance II--— ■ of r&diam I must show it in a room which is dark—entirely dark.” The shah, whose nervousness is very well known, did not take kind | ly to the idea of a dark room, and called his grand vizier, who suggest ed drawing the curtains of the room, but M. Curie persisted that blackness was necessary. Thereupon the shan called M. Paoli, the French detective protector of royalties, who assured his majesty that there was no danger. So the party descended to the under ground apartment in the hotel known as the safe room. M. Curie began expounding the properties of radium, and then gave a signal for the electric light to be switched off. Immediately a panic, seized the shah’s suite, and all cried out in Persian and in French, “Light! Light! Turn on the light!” The elec tricity was switched on again, and the disappointed savant was forced to show his radium in a lighted room.— London Chronicle.
