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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 30, 1911)
^bNDERFUL DOGS" f 5t. Bernard -^y' 3TERLINO' HEILvIO ' II n.'tr. jiui i1 iJ u: iiir -t tttgbilMM dogs In the ■ olid as Mg ft* calves, ae . .. a- bears a* intelligent as :oiks. as pedigreed as princes, as mernortou* as saints, and as ;>ure and plain-lit ing as their . .-sr r*. the Augustine canons . **> after fifteen tears of a iin.t.e that is nine months i«e .tad snow, break dottn com W ■ el %. with stseiled Joints, im jMjvs rished Wood and chronic rh- -nia" sir. us a iwocratic as the l.mgs •in.** cues tc theta collars of g »• ■ ;. -e tfc rrsi Bernards, their an<es re jlmu) cm Ih- rpot. aid ns irat • ■ • a mat eu rub >|i. when St lleruurd . . went up from Aosia and founded • ■ e AD Wd. Their ancestors. bear C <.og* of old Charlemagne's conrt. had • -ft with certain mountaineer chiefs. . < ,er pa'iuett lor aid and neutrality. e **i -- Be-ward, uncle of t’harletnagne • I- .'-bed an army by this route A D » "1- great dogs of imper.al court race -* • sr the spot when St Bernard and his • t -js- t-aii" tbeir famous refuge at the o' >*ie ;•***, and to understand their evo t. »t »h» good monks began training , * t l- :.,.e other dog* they tnnst have .<•» o' •!> - ira)«ti< short-cut of antloufty f north E_ros<e into Italy. '•vwatiu .» the tunnels take you through by • -urters of an hour, but before > : et.gineermg Bonders it was dif • *'• h ;• "*> Naioleos’s—or Hannibal's - • e o' rt Alp* remained so striking? Rr — a gre*- .rmy with Its tajytage. camp Bis. a! * apt.;es canoaos arid ammunition - ore .otiderour elephants. irrupted u.it - ’ed;> cm the fertile plains of the south • • f-ti teaJ from the i loads the clouds «i t. ( j-JUtl rhe snow catted wall of mottn ■ t* •tU-ntiw Napoleon must have led f tt • round b» the Mediterranean, inter ie •■ - *ourr.e» that would hate surprised Bi-bodr. •Hbera.se Cannibal. wandering with his dree* Of war elephants from Spain up into - at - /o-td :j**e lieen obliged to wander -* -’a there Instead, he followed the ... :c « .! • »o the entrance of the Great St. •o ro-.-d . . mbed th* grand old road. up. up to - .-cow and »ce. elephants and all. and <ie • • wde-i the Tinea and fig trees of Capua. «» •» ♦ r-.etist- surprise of the Romans. '• array to risk it mas a Gaulish one rar- « r Hantiihal The Romans used ' =.» ear as B. C. 196; and the monks pre • * tablet# that record tbe passage of vari • . » VgKir.f After tbe foundation of Aosta. H < 37 »t became frequented by travelers and a Temple of Jupiter actually stood • e <o| uberr now rises the gigantic statue •f > Bernard Roman emperors Improved «b. oad. 'ab!> Constantin*. A. D. 339 Later. •** ■ 1 sr.at. hordes fell on the empire from its *• r . - bat in the anarchy of the early dark h* one of the most traveled and rout*# of Knropc iioliced by moun »f» taking moderate toll—whence the ' t .■ ot C x rknaiH'i ancle. . ■ t Bernard founded bis Hospice ■ • ; ad collected a pack of the dogs' •f -already evolved to precious '' radi of man —It was to succor • • - a" the critical |K>int of a unique . c .ti tne c ond> There were other it ji-*es hut none so improved by art •rafBr liven today, in spite of • • ip tunnels, tbe Great St Bernard is c-ned by 17.090 poor fiedeutrians • ti» e*r;j day*, the richer the travelers. • - ciihslanliaily they showed their gratl -r*n< the middle ages the monastery . very wealthy Kings and emperors . ■ grants Passing nobles and rich mer ■i letiied annuities on It. And prioresses ■end cottars in cloth-o.'-gold for the big endv of ancient descent from Charle :*■=! • ourt -concerning whose unearthly *> • and oodnesa all kinds of stories new rife I* coital friends of mine had an adventure ' tU dog* last May. Hearing it to be a *.a.ct»ng Ijiglish trip to go sleighing over the *es Bernard after a considerable melting •» snows makes tbe thing imssible. they ar’ed i-l. very Parisian trio -retired fashion ■hi- ladies' tailor of the rue I; ovale. Paris. » w-ife and his mot he i -Indaw. weight and r.. 'en*trg In tbe order mentioned, v darrlgny. in full bloom of peach and rr- l . smomt they took a four-horse car »j» up tbe already dusty road, through tbe » i-e o' the Orance the rocky gorge, the ten sprang buds sad tbe woods, the tunnel, and •a tj» through Sembrancher—where the s upped to cool with beer past ruined cha ten mx and o*er old stone bridges, the Drance a«s ■ dewg below, often invisible, and all de at: springlike and thetr hearts sang a* • > »eot up. Hke tbe skylark. • • • They «f< turned .a wonder ns they began to get ew» of Mi Velaa with its glaciers and snow •elds tuertfag Into an all enow world begin utng up there, just above then—so dlfferen’ '•cm fh» sortie In August. On the grew cir beyond Uddes village, they felt chilly B~>end tbe Torrent de la Croix they struck anon, and at Hour* St Pierre the sleigh w*-<t ltitiig tor then* Tee sketch bad been engaged by telephone, and by the same meaas tbe good monks would hate a hoc dinner and Iren all ready In thetr seen I ms JiagUpg gaily across the Gorge of •be Valamort with its deep snowbanks unmelt SPECIAL FEAT. NO. 5-2415 SHEETS Most Deadly of All Snakes — . ---_' Pc %c* Cmtttad From Fangs of the Ectes Carinat» invariably Fatal —la Found In India. moat venomous of snakes Is wi «o be the ErUs < artnata of India ll .» a bow* elgkleeo inches long and of , color. Th* restore is death . I# ui carries In Its head the ae , disHnrfnr it,r with the con M’Wld HW * ■*' *K>toW“ The Echis rarlnata is' tolerably com mon m India, being found in nearly every part of the peninsula. Fortunately, however, for man, it is not. like the cobra, a house-frequent ing snake; for its aggressive habits would make It infinitely more fatal to life than its dreaded relative. This king of the saps does not turn to <%oape from man as the cobra will, or flash into concealment like the ko r>*t, but keeps the path against Its human assailant, and, pitting its own eighteen inches of leflgth against its enemy’s bulk, challenges and provokes conflict. A stroke with a whip will cut it in two, or a clod of earth disable it: but such is its malignity that it will invite attack by every device at its com mand, staking its own life on the mere chance of its adversary coming within the little circle of its power. At most, the radius of this circle is 12 Inches. Within It, at any point, lies certain death, and, on the bare hope of hand or foot tresspassing within its reach, the Echis throws its body into a fig ure-of-eight coll. Then it attracts at tention by rubbing its loops together, which, from the roughness of the scales, make a rustling, hissing sound, erects its head in the center, and awaits attack. It is said that no one, having once encountered this terrible reptile, can ever forget its horrifying aspect when thus aroused, its eagerly aggressive air, its restless colls, which, in con stant motion one over the other and rustling ominously all the ▼hile. stealthily but surely bring it nearer and nearer to the object of 1U fury.— Harper’s Weekly. Natural Mistake. "Is Mrs. Walsingham at home?” "No. I believe she has gone out for the day.” “Are you Mr. Walsingham?” “No; I’ve Just got out of a hospital, so your mistake is perhaps no more than natural.” \ sVcMKr JXXr they afiirm, for a roiie and a half, the driver leading his horses behind, and keeping mighty close. He left the sleigh and valises —it was no moment for fancy work. When the good canon and his two brown brothers, with rein forcements of four more dogs, came hurrying after the canine first aid, it was possibly a little earllef' than they remember. The two miles or more of Id per cent, climb up the long windings, over the dreary Comb of the Head and through the ava _ _ _ lancne gallery. seeins »> I* I i h I I ~ -6o j(SA,hem a fantastk: dream of ^ -&Ze c3T-&&3h'i4je!£> blizzard and darkness. The two men held the mother eii. they chatted of Napoleon’s superhuman difficulties in getting 30.000 men. cannon and camp baggage over that historic sticking pot -a the same month of May, the year 1800. They were doing It beautifully in a light three horse sleigh without baggage; but the modern road, hewn in the rock, avoids the old steep, slippery route, scarcely marked by jagged stones sticking out of the ice. It must have been a 23 per cent, incline. They had struck nothing worse than 7 per cent.; and through the forest beyond It was often almost level, the snow well packed. A favorable moment! Peautiful sleighing! Ex hilarating adventure! 1'p! up! Five per cent., sir. They Jingled through a long defile and up Into vast boulder strewn pastures shrouded in white like great ghosts. How different from a common diligence trip in August, with hur rahing tourists! They still affirm that a three horse sleigh can take three restaurant-fattened Parisians and a beer-swelled driver up inclines of 7 and 8 jier cent, with strength and beauty, had not a blizzard struck them just before tlie Oantine de Pros. “Five more miles to climb." they said there, 'better hurry! We shall telephone the canons." This is where they always telephone for heli» to come down from the Hospice. In bad weather; but their fat sleigh man had swigged his birsch-and-hot-water placidly, re fused an extra horse and man, and started them off with confidence. This is why they were soon floundering in a blizzard that dark ened the sun like night, at the entrance to a black defile, pa-t "precipices” that “turned their stomachs." With a jolt, the sleigh stopped. “Must wait.” said the fat sleigh, man, blanket ing his horses. “Where are we?" “At the Pas de Marengo, three miles below the Hospice.” “Dri«.e ou!” “Oo back!” “Armand, he'll lake us over a precipice. I can't see two yards ahead!" To ail of which the driver, lifting the faTIiug top. covered them with rugs, and lighting his 1'ipe. answered briefly: “They’ll comer "Never will I forget that half-hour while the sleigh was being snowed under In the black twilight of that blizzard." says the mother-in law of the world-famed rue Royale concern. “And never was I so glad to see human be ings as those three- splendid big dogs that advauced to ua formally, gravely out of the twilight 1 caunot think of them as dogs. They were more than persons. They seemed super natural creatures come to save us, perfectly safeiy. perfectly easy! Our confidence waa complete. We understood their meaning, when they ranged themselves three abreast, juat far enough apart for us two women to walk be tween. leaning ou their backs! Armand took an outer edge. The driver showed him.* T p they advanced, dragged, sustained and cheerfully encouraged by the dogs alone, as in-law straddled on one of the horses, with the greatest difficulty. Armand and madame. dragged along by a big dog under each arm pit, jjust loved the noble creatures. Ohly when they arrived at the Hospice did they realize that they had no pajamas. Their clothes were soaked and frozen. In a dream they were led to two big bedrooms with two bid wood tires blazing * * * and a big brown brother calling through the keyhole that, they would “find a change of gowns on the chair backs." They were monks' gowns, of scratchy, thick brown woollen stuff that "tickled” the two ladies so that they “ate their soup and went to sleep laughing.” • • • The next afternoon—the driver having res cned his sleigh, sent up their valises by por ter, and himself returned to Bonrg St. Pierre long before—they went down the 2. 6. 8 and 10 per cent, slopes of the Italian side in a regular service sleigh and dashing style and taking the terrific descents of IS to 25 per cent, with "sleigh brakes that hold safer than an auto mobile.” Although they found the Pass alive with service movement, mostly local, they con sider themselves great sports and "advise no one to repeat the exploit.” As to the dogs, they will “send them a present of 500 francs every y<*pr." As the first year has not yet elapsed, it remains to be seen if they turn out more grateful than the average tourist; but 1 believe they did leave $10 in the alms box. It is a painful subject. To merely see the dogs on the spot and learn of their deeds is worth any man's $10, even in August. And. quite apart, is the question of board and lodg ing. The Hospice consists of two vast agglomera tions of buildings in the bottom of a cup-like space surrounded by the terrific snow-covered peaks. Yet it is the top of the pass, so high that everyone is incommoded in breathing after a little exertion—no one knows why; but the amosphere is more rarefied and colder than that of any other pass, altitude for alti tude. by a technical 500 meters. True, it Is higher than the Simpson or ML Cents; but it Is lower than the Stolvle or Great Gllibier— all of which I have done, in auto, with none of the inconvenience in breathing experienced around the Great St. Bernard Hoaplce. Without the Hoaplce, the 17.000 poor pedes trians would be in a wretched, even dangerous plight They regularly sleep at night and eat two meals gratis. Without the Hospice, 6,000 well-to-do pleas ure tourists, who annually "do" the Great St. Bernard in July, August and September by way of diligences, service-breaks and private carriages would find It a much less “romantic and delightful adventure." with perhaps some painful Inconveniences. For one thing, they would have to pay. When a break-load arrives. they ring the bell in the ancient porch and are welcomed by one of the abbes or canons as guests of a chateau. Automobiles not being permitted on the Swiss side, the all-horse locomotion of this pass makes a stay over night at the top practically necessary. With old-fashioned courtesy the tourists are conducted to their rooms by an abbe. and after meals are shown round the church, the kennels and museum, quite as guests in a country house. Never a hint of pay. Even- tourist knows—it is universal con versation and all guide books tell it—that each tourist ought to put into the alius box at least what he tor she) would have to pay at a hotel. AH tourists similarly know in advance that the Hospice has grown poor in modern times by continuing to feed, warm and lodge 23,000 mingled rich and poor annually—the grants, rents ami annuities that once made it rich having shrunk and dwindled. This being so. what do you imagine the 6.000 gay and arro gant tourists last summer put into the alms box? Less than 1.000 would have paid at a hotel! That is to say. an average of one tour ist in six paid up honestly. The rest sneaked it. This is not why the dogs have a far-away, almost disdainful look. They do not know why thev are almost hard up for their soup and biscuits. Once they wore gold collars: now they go Rbout contentedly in leather dotted with brass nail-heads. They do rot even know that rich tourists have tried to buy them for large sums—which the good canons gently re fused; they would never send their dog friends down to pant and pine in the thick, hot air of the plain. They disdain nobody. They simply do not like our smell—the smell of overheated, overfed, gross tourist bodies, burning oxygen and letting off jioisonous gases like a furnace. Their friends, the abbes. brothers and clean smelling wood choppers of the heights are plain livers, trained down, ail muscle, their very clothes free from the grease and microbes of the festering plain. How. then, if they avoid us. are they willing to bound off through ..now and night aud hunt out—what they smell so easily, so far away—the strong scented denizen of low altitudes in distress? In men it would be called professional ardor. In these dogs we call it atavism. Since St Bernard de Menthon collected the pack in the year A. D. 962. almost a thousand years have elapsed. Generation after generation, back through the centuries, the same patient train ing. exclusive companionship of wise men. ab sence of outside foolishness and distractions, have made It a race of dogs apart. There are plenty of St. Bernards up and down the valley; but they are degenerates from the overflow. The dogs of the Hospice, for example, take i heir orders only from the abbes. or canons, not the brown brothers fmarronniers") who live with them, feed them, and for whom they have the greatest affection. Yet before start ing on an expedition, an abbe has the chief dogs up before him. one by one. It passes in absolute silence, very queer. When the pure minded. strong-souled. trained-down, unworldly man looks into his eyes, what passes into the subconscious being of the clean-living, high bred. human-companioned animal of the thin air and lonely heights? , Two Hospice dogs have crouched beside an exhausted wayfarer, snuggling close to him on each side to keep him warm while the third dog ran back, to lead the •"caravan” of rescue to the spot. Such a trio of scouts have barked contin uously in the ears of a weakening, stumbling traveler to keep him awake. Two trudged so close to him on each side as to warm and hold him upright—while the third butted him along from behind a good five minutes before dashing back to bring tbe caravan. Any visitor in snow time is given the privilege to wander off and hide behind a drift —as far as he pleases, covering hts tracks at pleasure. Then an abbe will take a new bunch or six dogs from the kennels, merely show them your handkerchief in his uplifted hand-'ef course they get the scent—and off they go. circling, barking, as at a game. After two cricles of the Hospice, at the most, run ning with their noses in the air like a French deer hound, they have your trail and follow It straight to where you are waiting to be rescued. Then you get your second surprise Instead of digging you out and offering you a drink of brandy and water from the canteens round their necks, they stand in a circle, laugh ing at you. You know how a dog laughs? Technically, the pass is ”opeu to circula tion" between the melting and reappearance of the snows in July. August and September. During this period, when the road it alive with traffic over good dry earth, and rock, the rescue work is limited to hunting up adventur ous touriats or tipsy ‘‘work-seeking’' laborers who have strayed or fallen. In bad weather, and SB soon as there is snow, the telephone makes rescue work a routine. FTom St. Rhemy, on the Swiss slope, a telephone message in variably notifies the Hospice of the passage up of each vehicle, band of pedestrians or soli tary adventurer. REQUISITES FOR NEAT AND RAPID WORK AT KILLING TIME i Method of Farmer Who Thoroughly Understands the Busi ness—it Is Necessary to Have Good Scraper, Stick ing Knife, Hog Hook and Convenient Place to Labor in. . . (By W. HANSON. Illinois.) In order to do neat and rapid work at hog-killing time, it Is necessary to have a good scraper, sticking knife, a hog hook and a place that is conven ient for working. For scalding, a barrel is commonly used, and it is all that is needed un less the hogs are very large. If very large hogs are killed, a scalding tub will answer the purpose for scalding much better than a barrel. 1 have one which is made of two inch planks for *the sides and ends, and sheet iron for the bottom. It is six feet long and three and one-half feet wide, with a depth of two and one-half feet. Two hooks are fastened near the top on one side, with a pair of trace chains to run under the hog, to faoil itate the turning and withdrawing ! from the tub It is placed over a furnace, which ] is made by digging a trench In the | ground, and when in use I place pieces | of wood across the bottom, in order j to keep the hog from coming in con i tact with the iron bottom and getting j too hot. I find that the proper temperature for good scalding is from ISO to 190 degrees, .and if a barrel is to be used, the water should be boiling when dipped out of the kettle, as the barrel will cool it some. If a scalding tub is used, the water should be cooled by adding a bucket of cold water before the hog Is put in. To insure a correct heat of the wa ter, use a thermometer. Small quan tities of lye, ashes or lime will have no efTect in removing the hair, but will cause the scurf to come loose more readily. - A hog hook is almost indispensable, and if one is to be made it should be 1 made in the form of a hay or bale hook. In fact, I find that a hay hook answers the purpose very well. In handling the hog, stick the hook , in the flesh of the lower jaw, just be hind the fork of the jaw bone. How ever, the hook may be stuck under the tendons of the hind legs. Keep the hog in constant motion • while being scalded, and draw it out | to air occasionally. When the hair and scurf slip easily from the body the scalding is completed. In scraping and cleaning the hog. I clean the feet and head first, then the legs, and last but not least, the body. I hang the hog with a rope and pulley, as it is more easily hung in this way than any other. But It may he hung with the ordinary gambrel, a stick which is sharpened at each end and inserted under the tendon strings of the hind legs. A short singletree will be found to answer for a gambrel-stick. If there is sufficient help at hand, the hog may CISTERN THAT CLEANS ITSELF ' Method Is Shown in Illustration That Carries Off Refuse Settling at the Bottom. Cisterns are usually made of brick and cement mortar in the form of a jug. The water is let In at the top by conductors from the eve troughs of the roof of the house or barn. The soot, dust, leaves and other foreign matter on the roof and In the trough are washed Into the cistern, writes Dr. J. A. Kirkland in the Wallace's Farmer. This settles to the bottom. Self-Cleaning Cistern. making a heavy deposit of slime and filth, and the water, which is always drawn from the bottom by the pump, comes up dirty and foul smelling. If the cistern is built as the illustration represents, it will be automatic in cleaning, as It will overflow from the be hung on a pole put up for the pur pose. After the hog is hung up, rinse it down with scalding water, remove the entrails by running a sharp knife lightly dowD, marking the belly straight, cutting to the bone between the thighs and in front of the ribs, which bones I split witb an ax, being careful not to cut beyond them Open the abdomen, and after a little use of the knife one will seldom cut the entrails in removing them. However, I have a few short strings at hand to use in case any of the en trails are cut. After removing the entrails, liver and heart, spread the carcass apart Hog-Scalding Tank. with a stick and rinse it down with cold water. When cooled sufficiently, remove the leaf fat and kidneys and cut it up. 1 usually salt down on a bench or i:. a box as soon as it has cooled enough to trim, but I never put any salt on the ribs and backbones if the weather is cool. The amount of salt I use is ten pounds to every one hundred pounds of meat. In addition to the salt, I also use two pounds of granulated sugar and two ounces of saltpetre mixed. Rub the meat once every three days with one-third of the mixture. While it is curing pack it. in a box in a cooi room, where it will neither become warm nor freeze. Two barrels may be used, changing the meat from one to the other each time It is rubbed. After the last rub bing let the meat He In a box for a week or ten days, then take it out to smoke. When taken out of the box dip each piece in a kettle of boiling water and let it remain half a minute, after which sprinkle a little powdered borax on the meat side, and hang. Smoke it four or five days with hickory chips or corn cobs, then dip and sprinkle it with borax again, and put it down in clean hay. The hot water destroys any fly eggs that may have been deposited, and the borax prevents flies from depositing fresh ones. Meat treated in this manner may be left hanging all summer and will re main in the'best condition. bottom, thus carrying out the stale water and sediment that have accumu lated below. The cistern should be built In the ordinary way and cemented fully to the top. The conductor pipes should enter through the cover, a drain pipe leave the cistern just beneath the neck, or about three feet below the surface. Into this is cemented a gal vanized gas pipe which extends down ward to within about two and a half inches of a depression in the bottom of the cistern. It will readily be seen that as soon as the water rises above the drain, it will begin by force of gravity to flow from the bottom up through the gal vanized tube and leave the cistern from the bottom, thus sucking out the foul water and sediment from below and leaving the clean, fresh water at the top. I invented this device and have had one of these cistern In op eration for seventeen years. The wa ter has always remained pure and sweet, and without any attention what ever to cleaning. There is no patent and the additional cost of this simple and sanitary device is nbout two and a half to three dollars. Unique Selling Plans. A Long Island gardener has been shipping hampers of assorted vege tables to New York families. A uni form price of $1.50 a hamper (holding more than a bushel) Is charged the year round. The plan is successful, although used on a small scale. A New England gardener has built up a fine uade In supplying consumers In several cities. Deliveries are mad* by wagon. Families are supplied reg ularly and printed matter Is dtstribut ed soliciting further trade. His bust n^ss Is well organized and this grower is prospering and says, "I now hava more business than I can handle " GUARD AGAINST WASTE IN D Fanner Must Syittmetlu Feed ing So That Good Reeshas* la Mot Refused by Cuttle. Feed has grown to be so high priced that wasting it seems like squandering gold; yet the careless feeder wastes an enormous amount of feed every winter when a little watchfulness and sound Judgment would save it. When stock are fed a tempting grain feed before or at the same time they are given their roughage ration they Invariably become somewhat dainty as to what they eat, picking out but the very best of the roughage and rejecting all the rest. When this habit is once formed stock will often go hungry rather than eat what has been picked over and which really is very good feed. There fore, one must systematise his feed ing In such manner as to guard against the habit being formed. This should in no wise be construct ed as meaning the feeding of foul or musty roughage, but at the same time we de advise one to fe-'d so as to de rive the greatest possible profits, con sistent with the good health of the herd. For this reason we should feed the roughage before the grain or at a tine when we know the stock to be hungry enough to eat all the rough age containing a certain amount of nourishment and we consider that ‘the system saves us a great quantity of food supplies every season. Avoid Relationship. In breeding turkeys. relationship must be avoided. If the cock bird has considerable wild blood in him. the offspring will be stronger. Where in breeding is practiced, after a few years the young will be liable to have crooked breasts and other deformities. Best Draught Horse. An experiment station says that the t| closer a draught horse Is to the ground the l ‘ter both for service and endurance. \