Chapter I: Know Not Why

I lift mine eyes against the sky,
The clouds are weeping--so am I;
I lift mine eyes again on high,
The sun is smiling--so am I.
Why do I smile? Why do I weep?
I do not know, it lies so deep.
I hear the winds of autumn sigh.
They break my heart, they make me cry.
I hear the birds of lovely spring,
My hopes revive, I help them sing.
Why do I sing? Why do I cry?
It lies so deep I know not why.
--_Morris Rosenfeld._

THE BRAVE BOAR.

ELLA F. MOSBY.

"Upstairs, downstairs,
And in my lady's chamber,"

The French chronicles of the reign of Francis I. tell the following wonderful story of a boar hunt: "'Twas in a grand forest that stretched for miles around a castle--an old-fashioned castle of ramparts and towers, of wide halls and winding stairways.

Oliver, the twelve-year old son of the master of the castle, had set his heart on going with his father to hunt the wild boar with the gentlemen of the neighborhood. The forest was the home of a great many wild creatures, great and small. Squirrels and hares lived there; wide-antlered stags and timid does with their young fawns beside them, foxes, boars that feasted on the black acorns and chestnuts that covered the ground, and fierce gray wolves, seen chiefly in winter. The boars were the fiercest of all, even the sows would fight for their young ones, and there was one old boar who was by this time quite famous for his courage, his cunning and his great age. He was called Pique-Mort, which means death-thrust, because he had in his savage onslaughts fatally wounded so many men, horses and dogs.

"Oliver's father had ordered the great hunt against this very old warrior, who, by the way, had grown so shrewd that he could not always be roused from his secret lair even by the beaters and prickers who went ahead of the hunters. But he surely would appear to-day. The forest was ringing with horns and bugles, the neighing of horses, the baying of noble hounds, the hallooing and joyous clamor of the sportsmen.

"Oliver was well prepared for the occasion. Old Bertrand had taught him all the calls and recalls on bugle and horn, had trained him to thrust with the long boar-spear, and to use the short, thick sword kept for the last when the brute was near, and the big boar-hounds Vite-Vite, and the others, turned and obeyed his voice when it rang out in its clear, boyish treble. Most important of all, his mother had consented to his going.

"But alas, and alas! when the morning dawned fair and sweet, poor Oliver was racked with grievous pain and burning with fever! The chase swept away with shout and cry and bugle-blast, and Oliver barely heeded it or turned his head when his father called back: 'We'll bring old Pique-Mort home with us.' However, by the afternoon the fever had slackened, and the pain abated, and Oliver lay white and weak on his couch, and with piteous tears on his cheeks over the mischance that had held him fast at home. He turned his face to the wall in a burst of passionate grief as they heard, at first far off, and then nearer and nearer, the excited yelps of the dogs, then the trampling of horses, the hoarse cries of the men, and oh, the bugle!--note of 'La Mort!' which meant victory over the famous boar!

"'Oliver,' said his mother tenderly,--and then all at once came a sound at which both started, and threw their arms about each other. In the hall below, up the stairs, came a heavy creature, panting, snorting, and the furious Pique-Mort suddenly burst upon their amazed vision! Sinister and savage did he look, the little, round greedy eyes red with rage, the bristles standing up like a cuirass, the sharp and cruel tusks ready for assault, and foam and blood churned at their base into a streaked froth by his heat and anger. He was within the chamber. Oliver's arm dropped nerveless at his side, and his frightened eyes sought vainly for any weapon.

"The mother had a quicker wit, and stooping down, she seized with both arms a large Eastern rug, and threw it over the beast's head, blinding him for the while, as well as blunting the thrust of the terrible tusks. As he struggled desperately in its smothering and heavy folds, the whole following--dogs, men and the master at their head, were up the stairs also, and the death-stroke was quickly given. It was the end of the veteran of so many chases in morass and thicket--Pique-Mort was dead.

"After a moment's half-stupefied stare, the lord of the castle broke forth:

"'Well, my boy, you were at the finish after all.' The dogs could not be held off their old foe, and the brave boar was furious at their baiting, and so broke away. My lady, you have the glory, and Oliver his wish.'

"Old Bertrand stroked his grizzled beard.

"''Twas a gallant brute,' he said. 'Had he been a man they would have styled him _hero_. He had a high courage and loved freedom well.'"

* * * * *

We have grown since those rough days into more compassion for animals, but even yet we are not altogether just to their side of the question, to the recognition of their right to life and its joys as their merciful Creator has given it to them.

GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE TEACHER.

JESSIE P. WHITAKER.

In the summer of 1897, wandering in the woods of Pigeon Cove, on the outer point of Cape Ann, the prolonged call of a bird often came to my ears, which aroused my curiosity. I was not then much acquainted with birds, but was beginning to "take notice" and usually carried my field glass on my walks, and if I saw or heard a bird unfamiliar to me, tried to look him up in my books. I had with me "Our Common Birds and How to Know Them," by John B. Grant; also Florence Merriam's "Birds Through an Opera Glass"--very good books to aid beginners in identifying birds. The call of which I speak was so marked and so often repeated that I eagerly searched for the bird, but could not get a glimpse of him, nor even locate the sound accurately.

I soon perceived, however, that it was a regular chant, increasing in an even crescendo, vibrating through the woods. I remembered reading descriptions of such a call in the books, and soon found my bird to be the oven-bird, golden-crowned thrush, or teacher bird.

But why "teacher" bird?

I was constantly asking this question, for to my ears the sound always came as _ti-chee, ti-chee, ti-chee_, with accent always on the final syllable. By no exercise of the imagination could I make it sound like "teacher." Never during that summer nor during the two succeeding summers have I heard these birds at Pigeon Cove say "teacher."

The little brown walker kept out of my sight very persistently during that first summer, but in September, walking in the woods near Star Lake in the Adirondacks, I had a good, near view of two little olive-green birds walking on some low branches. Their white speckled breasts proclaimed them thrushes, while the beautiful crown of brownish orange inclosed in lines of black, plainly marked them the "golden-crowned." Often as I have seen the bird since, his golden crown has never appeared as conspicuous as it did on that September day by the mountain lake. But I had to go to Skaneateles Lake in central New York to hear him say "teacher." On a May morning in in 1899, sitting on a mountain side overlooking this beautiful sheet of water, the chant of a bird came vibrating through the woods to my ears, _teach-ah, teach-ah, teach-ah, teach-ah, teach-ah_ very distinctly.

Accent clearly on the first syllable this time.

Ah! Mr. Burroughs, at last I have found your little "teacher."

Will anyone tell me _why_ this bird with olive back and speckled, thrush-like breast, is placed in the family _Mniotiltidæ_, or wood warblers, instead of with the _Turdidæ_, or thrushes? And why is the "water thrush" also classed with wood warblers, when his olive back and speckled breast make him seem almost a twin brother to the oven bird, while both are so unlike other members of the warbler family, and so much resemble the true thrushes? It was at Glen Haven, beside a mountain brook tumbling down into Skaneateles Lake that I had my first and only view of a water thrush.

His clear song, repeatedly ringing out above the noisy music of the brook, kept luring me onward and upward over the rough banks, till at length I saw the little walker peering about among the stones for his food. Another bird closely resembling the thrushes and bearing the name, yet placed in _another family_, is the brown thrasher, or thrush. I look in my book for his classification. Family _Troglodytidæ_! I can scarcely believe my eyes! Can any one give me any earthly reason _why_ the ornithologists in their wisdom have seen fit to place this bird, with his reddish brown back, speckled breast and beautiful thrush-like song, in the same family with catbirds and wrens? Truly the mysteries of ornithology are past my comprehension.

To return to our "teacher." My acquaintance with him has not yet advanced to the stage of finding him "at home" in his dwelling. As Neltje Blanchan says, "it is only by a happy accident" that one might "discover the little ball of earth raised above the ground, but concealed by leaves and twigs and resembling a Dutch oven, which gives the bird its name of oven-bird." Last summer at Pigeon Cove the warning cries of a mother-bird led me to suspect a nest, but I failed to find it. The brood had evidently left their home, for a sudden loud outcry from the mother-bird startled me as the little thrushes scurried out of the path from almost under my feet, while Madame Thrush fluttered about with a pretense of a broken wing to distract my attention. Her "trailing" was quite effective, for by the time I had turned my attention from her performance to the babies, they were quite out of sight.

THE MUSKRAT.

(_Fiber Zibethicus._)

That part of North America which is included between the thirtieth and sixtieth parallels of north latitude is the home of this species of muskrat, which is the most numerous of the family. It is most plentiful in Alaska and Canada, which are so rich in lakes and rivers. It is described as a large water mole, with a long tail, broad hind paws, a blunt snout, and short, hair-covered ears, which may be closed to exclude water. The fur is close, smooth, soft, and lustrous, the woolly under fur being extremely delicate, fine, and short; the outer coat has a strong luster, and is double the length of the former. Adult males attain a total length of twenty-three inches, the tail occupying about half of this. Grassy banks of large lakes or wide, slowly flowing streams and swamps are its favorite haunts, though it is frequently seen about large ponds, grown with reeds and aquatic plants, where it erects a permanent home and dwells either in small colonies or communities of considerable numbers. The mode of life of a muskrat is in many respects like that of the beaver, for which reason the Indians call the two animals brothers, and affirm that the beaver is the older and more intelligent of the two. The burrows of the muskrat consist of plain underground chambers, with several tunnels, all terminating under water, or of strongholds above ground. These are of a round or dome shape, stand on a heap of mud, and rise above the surface of the water. They are lined with reeds, reed grass, and sedge, cemented with mud; the interior of the "lodge" contains a single chamber from sixteen to twenty-four inches in diameter. A tunnel which opens beneath the water leads to it. In winter it lines its chambers softly with water lilies, leaves, grasses, and reeds, providing for ventilation by loosely covering the center of the dome-shaped roof with plants, which admit a sufficient quantity of fresh air and let the vitiated air out. As long as the pond or swamp does not freeze to the very bottom it is said to lead a highly comfortable existence in its warm habitation, which is often protected by a covering of snow. Some observers say that the food of the muskrat consists almost wholly of aquatic plants, but Audubon saw captive muskrats which were very fond of mussels. They are very lively, playful creatures when in the water. On a calm night many of them may be seen in a mill-pond or some other sequestered pool, "disporting themselves, crossing and recrossing in every direction, leaving long, glittering ripples in their wake as they swim, while others stand for a few moments on little tufts of grass, stones, or logs, from which they can reach their food floating on the water; others sit on the banks of the pond and then plunge one after the other into water like frogs."

From three to six young are born in a burrow. If caught young they are easily tamed, and are of an equable and gentle disposition. Although some people dislike the fur on account of the odor of musk which clings to it for a long time, it is often used for trimming clothing or in the manufacture of collars and cuffs, especially in America and China. The best pelts are deprived of the long outer fur, dyed a dark brown color and used as a trimming which resembles sealskin. The animal is caught in traps baited with apples. The Indians know exactly which "lodges" are inhabited; they only eat the flesh, as the odor does not seem to be disagreeable to them.

"NOT A SPARROW FALLETH."

GRANVILLE OSBORNE.

No traveler in Palestine, the land of sacred memories, will need an introduction to the sparrows. They are as tame, troublesome, vivacious, and impertinent, as their numerous progeny across the seas. They chirp and twitter, asserting their rights of possession in places where they are not welcome, industriously building their nests in every available nook and corner, and defending them fearlessly against every feathered encroacher. They stop up the stove-pipes and water-gutters with their rubbish, build nests in the windows, and under the eaves of the roofs, and have not the least reverence for any place or thing. You see them perching on the loftiest spires of the Holy City, flitting in and out of minaret and tower, wherever an opening invites them to a place of security and shelter for rearing their young. They nest in great numbers in the bushes on the banks of the River Jordan, and band together in defending their nests against the rooks and crows that infest the cane-brakes north of Lake Hulah. They live on terms of great amity and friendliness with the beautiful "wŭr-war" or bee-eater, which burrows in the soft earth-banks near the out-go of the Jordan, from the Lake of Galilee. The nests of sparrow and "wŭr-war" are so numerous and easy to reach that one might easily gather a peck of their tiny eggs, and unfledged nestlings, with mother-bird and all, could they be of use. But the Mosaic Law has a precept especially intended to protect the "birds of the air." In one portion of the inspired text he writes: "If a bird's nest chances to be before thee in the way, in any tree, or on the ground, whether they be young ones or eggs, and the dam sitting upon the young, or upon the eggs, thou shalt not molest the dam with the young, that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest prolong thy days." You will notice how clear is the precept by which we are forbidden to molest these nests. We _must_ not, the biblical law says, and to the obedient is the promised blessing of prosperity and long life, with contrary calamities clearly implied to those who transgress. In its meaning this precept includes all birds, and was intended, like many other prohibitory commands, to cultivate sentiments of humanity and habits of gentleness. And so it is that in Bible lands the sparrow is more numerous, and less liable to destruction, than in our own streets, fields and parks, where every bird of this species is an object of contempt, and often lured to its death, with countless thousands of victims, unsuspecting and easily taken like himself.

They flit over the "field of the Shepherds," and build nests in the "cave of the Nativity." They cover the fields of wild oats by thousands, and chirp and twitter on the hillside where "Ruth went down to glean." A colony will be found in every old tree on the Mount of Olives, and even in the "garden of Gethsemane," they nest in perfect security above the heads of the black-robed attendants, who are on terms of great familiarity with them. The first reference to the sparrow in the Bible is an allusion to this habit of the fearless bird in building its nest in the most sacred places. It recalls the sad and pathetic period in David's life, when he fled from Jerusalem pursued by the army of his son Absalom, "who sought his throne and life." Afar from Jerusalem, and the temple courts, where he led the people in their devotions, his heart longed for the peace and holy calm, to be found only within their sacred enclosures, and he says: "A day in thy courts is better than a thousand." "My soul longeth for thy courts." "The sparrow hath found a nest for herself where she may lay her young, even thine altars." Thus he, the great King David, wished for the rest and peace enjoyed by the humble birds which he had observed so often, ministering to their young about the holy altar itself. Again, when Absalom falls in battle, and word is brought David, in the sadness of his lament, "O, Absalom, my son, my son!" He compares himself to the tiny, despised bird, saying: "I watch and am as a sparrow, alone upon the housetop." He had, no doubt, often seen the sparrow, when one had lost its mate, sitting on the housetop alone, and lamenting hour after hour its sad bereavement. So again the _sparrow_ is honored above its fellows, and its affectionate devotion immortalized. But a "Greater than David," has drawn from this humblest one of the feathered tribe, a lesson of trust which has touched tenderly, in all ages since, the heart of every seeker after truth. "Not a sparrow falleth" is a sentence that comes very close to the human heart. "Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father. Not one of them is forgotten of Him. Fear not, therefore. _Ye_ are of more value than many sparrows."

"Not a sparrow falleth,"
How sweet the words and true
"Without your Father's notice,"
Who careth still for you;
O tiny bird, so trustful,
Teach me such trust as thine,
That so the wondrous lesson
I may possess as mine.

THE TREATING OF WHITEY.

BERTHA SEAVEY SAUNIER.

His coat was thin--so thin that his skin showed through in patches. And the skin was thin--so thin that the bones almost pricked through in a mute appeal to the public.

He walked the streets until his four little feet dragged with weariness and he often sat down upon his haunches to rest.

When he stopped people noticed him and many turned as they went past, watching him--he was so pitiable a sight.

"Mangy dog," somebody said, but he was more than that. He was lost and he was starving. He was so needy that he had forsaken his alley haunts and had come up to the boulevards where was greater prosperity, sunshine, cleanliness, and perhaps love toward man and beast.

In his walks he chanced near the lake and paced the viaduct that leads out upon the pier. He even went on the pier and looked down into the dark water as many despairing men and women have looked. It seemed easy to fall in, but he turned back and walked away. He had learned that if he kept moving the police and guards did not poke at him with their clubs.

In crossing Michigan avenue he had to watch his chances, for the rubber tires of the carriages made no warning sound on the asphalt. And then he came to Wabash--the noise of the elevated and surface trains, and of the trucks and drays was so confusing that he had need of more care than ever. At length he reached State street and sat down to rest.

Lizzie and Mattie were there before him. They, too, were acquainted with alley ways, though they were not personally acquainted with Whitey. Evidently they had found nourishment there that Whitey had missed, for Lizzie was decidedly fat and Mattie was fairly presentable.

Lizzie wore a faded worsted skirt poorly joined to a cotton shirt-waist with a green silk belt. Her short, fair hair was curled and tied with a green ribbon and her airy straw hat was bright with flowers. Other little girls of better fortunes had worn the things and had extracted their freshness and much of their beauty. But Lizzie felt quite dressed up beside her friend who wore only a simple calico gown and plain straw hat. She led Mattie from window to window, pointing out precious articles and rare jewels, quite as if she had purse connections with them.

The girls glanced at Whitey as he passed.

"Poor little dog!" Mattie said.

"Yes," returned Lizzie, "I should think the policeman would shoot him."

"Why?" queried Mattie in surprise.

"Oh, he's so bad off."

Whitey was moving slowly. He was rested and he thought to go on.

Somebody in a confectionery store noticed the girls.

"Mamma, I do believe that's my old belt that I threw in the rags one day, for there's the cross I made on it at school with ink."

"Nonsense," said the lady.

"And, oh, mamma, look at the poor dog!"

Of all the people who were passing four at least were interested in Whitey. Alley and avenue--but the alley folks first forgot him. They went back to their diamonds.

Whitey's troubles had made him meek and humble. He did not at this time expect anything and he was out of hopes and plans. He did not observe any whisperings at the portals of the big store nor see the wonder on the face of the porter. What he did see presently was a round pasteboard box that the porter set down under his very nose. It was torn a little at one side and what was in the box began to melt and run down to the pavement.

Whitey moved his ears a little at the sight. It actually looked eatable. He doubted if it was, but he put out his tongue and touched it.

When Lizzie and Mattie turned again they stood amazed. People were looking amused as they passed and many a heart was made glad and light. One could read it in their faces. An unusual kindness is a love-flash that makes life sweeter to all who get it in their eyes.

"I'll bet there's a quart there," said Mattie.

"No, there ain't nuther. I guess a sick dog couldn't eat a hull quart of ice cream--it's jest a pint."

"Look how he licks it up. My! I'll bet it's good!"

"He's a gulpin' to beat the band," returned Lizzie.

"He never hed it before, _I'll_ bet."

"Or you nuther, Mattie Black."

"You can't talk much," answered Mattie.

By this time Whitey had cleared up his spread pretty thoroughly. Not a drop lingered in the circle at the bottom of the box and the pavement was dry.

Whitey walked over to the side of the building and lay down in the sun. He put his nose between his paws. His body was as thin and forlorn as ever, but away at the tip of his pink, shabby tail was a little, short-lived wag. It was the language of gratitude and hope. It had been absent for days--ever since he was lost. The little girl who had caused it was riding home in her carriage, but the alley folks took note of it and they were appeased. They no longer envied the dog.

As for Whitey, the rich cream worked its work. As he lay in the sun he felt new hopes and plans revive. Of a sudden he remembered a bakery where he had chanced to get some plate scrapings. He would go again. And go he did. His body and his hopes were alike nourished with his recent treat. Whitey actually walked over to the bakery alley with a decided and prolonged wag to his tail. The ice cream had placed it there. It really made the turning point for better times for Whitey.

DESCRIPTION OF PLATE.--_A_, flowering plant, white variety; _B_,
flower of red variety; 1 pistil and stamens; 2, stamen; 3, pollen
grains; 4 and 5, pistil; 6, ripe capsule; 7, 8, 9, seed.

THE POPPY.

(_Papaver somniferum L._)

DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER,

Northwestern University School of Pharmacy.

Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er
To death's benumbing opium as my only cure.
--_Milton, S. A. l. 630._

The opium-yielding plant or poppy is an herb about three feet in height; stem of a pale green color covered with a bloom. Branches are spreading, with large, simple, lobed or incised leaves. The flowers are solitary, few in number, quite large and showy. The four large petals are white or a pale pink color in the wild-growing plants. The fruit is a large capsule, one to three inches in diameter, of a depressed globular form. The seeds are small and very numerous, filling the compartments of the capsule. In spite of the general attractiveness of the plant, the size of the flowers and the delicate coloring of its petals, it is not a favorite at close range because of a heavy, nauseating odor which emanates from all parts of the plant, the flowers in particular. The petals furthermore have only a very temporary existence, dropping off at the slightest touch.

The wild ancestor of our familiar garden poppy is supposed to be a native of Corsica, Cyprus, and the Peloponnesian islands. At the present time it is extensively cultivated everywhere, both as an ornamental plant and for its seeds, pods, and yield of opium. It has proven a great nuisance as a weed in the grain fields of England, India, and other countries--something like mustard in the oat fields of the central states. There are a number of forms or varieties of the cultivated poppy. The red poppy, corn poppy, or rose poppy (_Papaver Rhoeas_) is very abundant in southern and central Europe and in western Asia. It has deep red or scarlet petals and is a very showy plant. The long headed poppy (_P. dubium_) has smaller flowers of a lighter red color and elongated capsules, hence the name. The Oriental poppy (_P. orientale_) has very large, deep red flowers on a tall flower-stalk.

Various plants belonging to other genera of the poppy-family (_Papaveraceæ_) are designated as poppy. The California poppy (_Eschscholzia Californica_) is a very common garden plant. It has showy yellow flowers and much divided leaves. Horn poppy (_Glaucium luteum_) is a rather small seaside plant, with long curved pods and solitary yellow flowers. The Mexican prickly poppy (_Argemone Mexicana_) is widely distributed. The pods and leaves are prickly, flowers yellow or white; the seeds yield an oil which is used as a cathartic. Spatling or frothy poppy (_Silene inflata_) is so-called because when punctured by insects or otherwise it emits a spittle-like froth. Tree poppy (_Dendromecon rigidum_) is a shrub six to eight feet high, with large, bright yellow flowers. Welsh poppy (_Mecanopsis cambrica_), a plant found in the wooded and rocky parts of western Europe, has sulphur-yellow flowers and is cultivated for ornament.

The use and cultivation of the poppy dates from very remote times. The plant was well known in the time of the eminent Greek poet Homer, who speaks of the poppy juice as a dispeller of sorrows (Odyssey, IV. l. 220). According to Plinius the word poppy (_Papaver_) is derived from _papa_, meaning pap, the standard food of infants, because poppy juice was added to it for the purpose of inducing sleep. The ending _ver_ is from _verum_, meaning true; that is, this food was the true sleep-producing substance. Opium, the inspissated juice of the poppy pods, was apparently not known in the time of Hippocrates, only the freshly expressed juice being used. It is through Diocles Karystius (350 B. C.) that we obtain the first detailed information regarding the use of opium. Nicandros (150 B. C.) refers to the dangerous effects produced by this drug. Scribonius Largus, Dioscorides, Celsus, and Plinius gave us the first reports regarding the origin, production, and adulteration of opium. Plinius mentions the method of incising the capsules. The Arabians are said to have introduced opium into India. It appeared in Europe during the middle ages, but was apparently in little demand. It was much more favorably received in the Orient. In 1500 it constituted one of the most important export articles of Calcutta. India supplied China with large quantities of opium, at first only for medicinal purposes. It is said that the Chinese acquired the habit of smoking opium about the middle of the seventeenth century, and since then it has ever been the favorite manner of consuming it.

The poppy is cultivated in temperate and tropical countries. The opium yield of plants grown in temperate climates is, however, much less than that of the subtropical and tropical countries, though the quality is about the same. There are large poppy plantations in India, China, Asia Minor, Persia, and Turkey. As already indicated, the white-flowered variety is quite generally cultivated because it yields the most opium.

The plants are grown from seed, and it is customary, in tropical countries, to sow several crops each season to insure against failure and that collecting may be less interrupted. Plants of the spring sowing flower in July. The pods do not all mature at the same time; this, coupled with the sowing of several crops at intervals of four to six months, makes the work of collecting almost continuous. Before the pods are fully developed they are incised horizontally or vertically with a knife. Generally a special knife with two and three parallel blades is used. The blades of the knife are repeatedly moistened with saliva to prevent the poppy juice from adhering to them. The incisions must not extend through the walls of the capsule, as some of the juice would escape into the interior and be lost. As soon as the incisions are made a milky sap exudes, which gradually thickens, due to the evaporation of moisture, and becomes darker in color. The following day the sticky, now dark-brown juice, is scraped off and smeared on a poppy leaf held in the left hand; more and more juice is added until a goodly sized lump is collected. These sticky, ill-smelling masses of opium are now placed in a shaded place to dry. The entire process of incising and collecting as carried on by the Orientals is exceedingly uncleanly. To the nasty habit of moistening the knife-blade with saliva is supplemented the filth of unwashed hands and the sand and dirt of the poppy leaves, which are added from time to time to form a new support for the juice as it is removed from the knife. In scraping the gum considerable epidermal tissue is also included. Each lump of gum opium contains therefore a mixture of spittle, the filth of dirty hands, poppy leaves, sand, and dust. In addition to that many collectors adulterate the gum opium with a great variety of substances. Dioscorides mentions the fact that even in those remote times adulteration of opium was practiced, such substances as lard, syrup, juice of lactuca, and glaucium being added. Modern collectors and dealers adulterate opium with sand, pebbles, clay, lead, flour, starch, licorice, chicory, gum arabic and other gums, figs, pounded poppy capsules, an excessive quantity of poppy leaves and other leaves, etc. After collecting and drying the peasants carry the gum opium to the market-places, where they are met by the buyers and merchants, who inspect the wares and fix a price very advantageous to themselves.

The present trade in opium is something enormous, especially in India, China, and Asia Minor. To the credit of the Chinese and the discredit of the English it must be said that in 1793 the former strenuously objected to the introduction of opium traffic by the latter. This opposition by the Chinese government culminated in the "Opium War," which led to the treaty of Nanking in 1842, giving the English the authority to introduce opium into China as a staple article of commerce. The reason that Chinese officials objected to the introduction of opium was because they recognized the fact that the inhabitants very readily acquired the habit of smoking opium. In spite of the most severe government edicts the habit spread very rapidly after the treaty referred to.

Gum opium contains active principles (alkaloids), to which it owes its peculiar stimulating, soporific, and pain-relieving powers. Of these alkaloids, of which there are about nineteen, morphine and codeine are undoubtedly the most important. The properties of gum opium represent therefore the collective properties of all of the alkaloids and are similar to the properties of the predominating alkaloids just mentioned.

Physicians generally agree that opium is the most important of medicines. Properly used it is certainly a great boon to mankind, for which there is no substitute, but, like all great blessings, it has its abuses. It is the most effective remedy for the relief of pains and spasms of all kinds. It will produce calm and sleep where everything else has failed. It finds a use in all diseases and ailments accompanied by severe pain, in delirium, rheumatic and neuralgic troubles, in dysentery, etc. It may be applied externally to abraded surfaces, to ulcers and inflamed tissues for the relief of pain. The value of opium does not lie so much in its direct curative powers as in its sedative and quieting effects upon diseased organs, which tends to hasten or bring about the healing or recuperating process. In some diseases the physician refrains from giving opium, as in fully developed pneumonia, since the quieting effect would diminish the efforts on the part of the patient to get rid of the inflammatory products accumulating in the air vesicles and finer bronchial tubes. In fact, the soothing effect is too often mistaken for a curative effect and the patient is neglected. The Roman habit of feeding children pap mixed with poppy juice was a pernicious one. Many modern mothers give their sick and crying infants "soothing syrups," most, if not all, of which contain opium in some form, as tincture of opium and paregoric. Too often the poor, overworked mother, who cannot afford to consult a physician, will purchase a bottle of "soothing syrup" or "cough remedy" for her child because she knows it produces a quieting effect, which is mistaken for a cure, when in reality the incipient symptoms are only masked. Only a reliable physician should be permitted to prescribe opium in any form.

The harm done through the use of opium by the ignorant, abetted by the "inventors," manufacturers and sellers of the "soothing syrups" and "cough remedies," is insignificant as compared with the harm resulting from the opium habit, which is acquired in various ways. For instance, a patient learns that the opium given him relieves pain and produces a feeling of well-being; hence, even after recovering, he returns to the use of the solace of his sickness when he suffers mental or physical pain, and in time the habit is acquired. The scholar knowing its properties makes use of it to deaden pain and to dispel imaginary or real mental troubles. Any and all classes may acquire the opium habit, but the majority of opium-eaters are from the lower and middle classes. As with other vices, the predisposing cause is a lack of moral stamina. Women are more addicted to the habit than men. After the habit is once established it is practically impossible to break away from it.

Under the influence of the narcotic the opium-eater becomes mentally active, hilarious, and even brilliant. Thoughts flow easily and freely. In time the patient loses all sense of moral obligation; he boasts and lies apparently without the least trouble of conscience. As soon as the effects of the drug pass away he becomes gloomy, morose, despondent, and he will resort to any measure to obtain a fresh supply. The dose of the drug must be increased continually, until finally quantities are taken which would prove fatal to several persons not addicted to its use.

Opium victims take the narcotic in various ways. The Chinese and Orientals in general prefer to smoke the crude opium in special pipes. Europeans and Americans usually take it internally in the form of the tincture or laudanum, paregoric or the powder of the sulphate of morphine or codeine. Frequently a solution of morphine is injected under the skin by means of a hypodermic syringe. No matter how it is taken the effects are about the same.

The treatment of the opium habit consists principally in the gradual withdrawal of the supply of the drug and strengthening the weakened system by proper exercise and diet, but, as indicated, the habit, if once fully established, is very difficult to cure. While, as stated, most of the opium-eaters belong to the poorer and middle classes, there are a number from the wealthy idle classes and not a few from professional classes who are slaves to the habit. The brilliant and gifted De Quincey was addicted to this habit and recorded his experience in his "Confessions of an Opium-Eater."

The capsules and seeds of the opium plant are also used. The capsules are collected at maturity, but while yet green, usually during the month of July. They are broken and dried in a shaded, well-ventilated place, and finally in a moderately warm place; they are then broken in still smaller pieces, the seeds shaken out and the capsule fragments placed in well-sealed glass or tin receivers. The seeds, which are known as maw seeds, are collected at maturity and placed in wooden boxes. The seeds yield an oil which is used much like sweet oil; artists also use it in mixing colors.

THE PRIMROSE.

PROF. WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY,

Secretary of The Chicago Academy of Sciences.

What can the blessed spring restore
More gladdening than your charms?
Bringing the memory once more
Of lovely fields and farms!

Of thickets, breezes, birds, and flowers
Of life's unfolding prime;
Of thoughts as cloudless as the hours;
Of souls without a crime.
--_Mary Howitt._

Among the many beautiful blossoms to be found in the field, the forest, or the garden probably none have served to inspire the poet more than the primrose and its near relative, the English cowslip. Someone has said that "no flowers typify the beautiful more strongly than those of the primrose which, though showy, are delicate and seem inclined to retire to the shade of the plant's leaves."

These plants belong to the Primrose family (_Primulaceæ_) which includes twenty-eight genera and over three-hundred and fifty species. Nearly all are natives of the Northern hemisphere, some being found as far north as Greenland (the Greenland primrose). Some of the species are Alpine, and a few are found in the southern portions of South America and Africa. One of the most interesting wild species of this family is the shooting star or American cowslip, which grows abundantly on the prairies of the Eastern portion of the United States. Dr. Erasmus Darwin tells us that "the uncommon beauty of this flower occasioned Linnæus to give it the name _Dodecatheon_, signifiying the twelve heathen gods."

The family as a whole seems to have no economic value of importance and are of use to man simply to beautify his surroundings. Many of the species are very interesting to the scientific observer, for the structure of their flowers is such that they are peculiarly adapted for cross-fertilization. This character has made it possible for the floriculturist to produce many of the beautiful forms that are found in cultivation. The generic name of the primrose is _Primula_ from the diminutive of the Latin word _Primus_, meaning first. The blossoming of the plants in the early spring led Linnæus to give them this name. It is said that their name was also applied, during the middle ages, to the European daisy (_Bellis perennis_.)

This genus, _Primula_, is the type of the family and contains about one hundred and fifty species from which have been produced, both in nature and under cultivation, many hybrid forms, one investigator claiming to have found more than twenty in the Alps alone. The species are found distributed throughout the cooler regions of Europe and Asia and a few are natives of North America.

The common or English primrose (_Primula vulgaris_), by careful culture, produces a wonderful number of variations. The wild forms produce only yellow single flowers while from those under cultivation are developed numerous varieties, both single and double, which vary greatly in color--red, pink, white, purple, and many shades of each.

The cowslip primrose (_Primula veris_) is also a native of England. The flowers are yellow and nodding, and the plants emit a strong odor of anise.

The Himalaya Mountains are probably more rich in beautiful and interesting species and varieties than any other locality. Here is found the most beautiful of all the primroses, the delicate rose-colored form (_Primula rosea._)

This species of primrose should not be confounded with the evening primrose, of which there are about twenty species, all American. The yellow flowers of the latter appear in the summer, opening at night, the thin and delicate petals withering the next day.

THE EGRET'S YOUNG.

ELIZA WOODWORTH.

Beside a quiet stream the egrets build,
And, friendly, crowd their nests of wattled sticks
In clustered trees, then patient keep unchilled
Their sea-blue eggs, and hear the first faint pricks

Against the shells; and soon each wistful brood
Beneath the mother's breast will doze or wake;
And soon each parent pair will wing with food
From waded shallows brown, and marsh and brake.

Between the flights they rest and tranquil look
Far down the glade from boughs or dusky nests,
And see the deer that wend beside the brook,
And partridge coveys, with their freckled breasts.

Oh, lives like sunny hours! Oh, peaceful glade,
Where glow the early flowers! What hunters steal
Along the stream, with rifles softly laid
At hand, while slips the skiff on noiseless keel?

The shots half-blind the air with curling haze,
And from his lookout perch the watcher falls;
The nested mother lifts her head to gaze,
And wounded, flutters down with hollow calls.

And, bleeding prone, perchance she mourns her young,
And hears, as far away, their startled cries,
And longs for pleasant haunts she lived among,
While in an anguished dream she slowly dies.

From off the gentle head they cut the crest,
They loose the wedding[1] plumes which veil the wings
And rend the beauty-tuft from out the breast--
Then each a mangled body downward flings.

The dimmed white forms strew all the blossomed ground,
While clustered trees but bear the wailing young;
Their plaintive little voices shrilling, sound
From swiftly chilling nests, once gayly swung.

Unfathered broods! In vain with hunger-calls
They grieve through woeful hours the helpless air;
Unmothered nests! How cold the darkness falls
On harmless, tender heads, uncovered there.

They live the painful night and feebly stir
At dawn; with famine shine the golden eyes;
They gape their mouths and seem to hear the whir
Of mother-wings speed past through empty skies.

And no more piteous sight the sun may see
Than where those parent birds lie dead; nor wakes
A sadder tone than the forsaken plea
Of famished broods that o'er their silence breaks.

Fainter and fainter sink the whispered cries,
As wanes the life and creeps the deadly chill,
Till wings are numb, and closed the hungry eyes,
While droop the downy heads, _and all is still_.

Footnote:

[1] The wedding plumes, which are esteemed the most valuable of all, are worn by the birds only during brooding time. Hence the special reason for hunting egrets at that season.

SPONGES.

A sponge when brought to the surface by the diver is a fleshy-looking substance covered with a firm skin whose openings appear and disappear at intervals. When the diver cuts it the interior looks like raw meat with numerous canals and cavities. The first thing they do is to remove the flesh, and this must be done at once, since otherwise putrefaction would set in, which would destroy the elasticity. This leaves merely the skeleton of the animal which has to be further cleansed before it is ready for the market.

The skeleton is nearly related in structure to silk, and this helped to settle the ancient dispute as to whether sponges were animal or vegetable. Their stationary life gave reason to the belief in their vegetable nature, while they multiply, like plants, by overgrowth and budding. They puzzled scientists for centuries, and one authority regarded them as worms' nests. In reality the sponge is a colony of little animals called polyps which occupy a sort of apartment house together, rearing families just as other animals do.

The surface of a sponge is covered with little holes, as you have observed, that are larger at the top than at the bottom, while the whole mass contains a system of channels. When the animal is alive water is kept flowing constantly through these channels by means of minute, hair-like appendages, which the little polyps agitate. The water thus drawn in brings with it the food.

The finest sponges come from Tripoli, and along the shores of the Mediterranean, the possessions of Turkey being the best field, the Spanish, French, and Italian coasts being, strange to say, devoid of them. The coarser kinds of sponges are found in the West Indies and off the Florida coast, none of the finest grade existing in American waters. The average value of Florida sponges is 80 cents a pound, while those from the Turkey coast are often worth as much as $50 a pound. There are many sponge beds along the coast of Florida, at well-protected places fenced in with natural fortifications and dams. They are carefully watched until reaching maturity, and are finer than those living wild in the sea.

After three years the sponges are ready for harvest. The choicest then, the full-grown ones, are pulled up, the others being left to reproduce until of larger size. Every year the value of a sponge farm increases, and enormous crops are yielded. It is easy to gather sponges here, for the water is clear and they are easily raised with a pole or tongs.

It is not so in Tripoli, however. There the work has to be done by divers, and as the fisheries have been so well worked, it is necessary for the divers to go deeper and deeper for them every year. Only the most desperate men are willing to undertake the task, notwithstanding they are paid ten times the usual wage paid to men in that country. Out of 600 divers employed, 150 to 200 die each season, either from asphyxiation, paralysis, or cuts from their knives. The diver in Tripoli seldom has diving-bells or suits such as are used in Europe and America. He goes down into the ocean, sometimes to the depth of 100 fathoms, taking with him a flat piece of stone of a triangular shape, with a hole drilled through one of its corners. A cord from the boat is attached to this stone and he uses it to guide him. Upon reaching the growing sponges he tears them off the rocks or cuts them with a sharp knife, places them under his arms, and then pulls at the rope, which gives the signal to the men in the boat to haul him up. The work is said to be done not so well by means of a diving-bell, the utmost care being necessary that the delicate organisms should not be torn. Sponges obtained by dragging are torn and sell for low prices. Those secured at such risk are the best and are used by surgeons in delicate operations. They do not grow as rapidly in the Mediterranean as in our water, an ordinary bath sponge, measuring about a foot in diameter, being ten years old.--_E. K. M._

COMMON MINERALS AND VALUABLE ORES.

IV.--COPPER AND LEAD ORES.

THEO. F. BROOKINS, B. S.

The first metal that was employed by man is copper. It is probable that prehistoric man made use of the metal in its native condition only, as no knowledge of metallurgy would be essential in preparing it for use from that condition. Copper implements have been found in the lake dwellings of Switzerland, and bronze, an alloy of copper and tin, is mentioned in the writings of Homeric times.

Cuprum, the origin of our English word copper, is derived from cyprium, which refers to the occurrence of the metal in especial abundance on the island of Cyprus, the main source of the metal during the epochs of early alchemy. In the Hebrew scriptures copper is termed Nehósheth (from nahásh, meaning to glisten) which is translated by Χαλκος and by Aes in the Vulgate. Later _Aes cyprium_ was the special designation, which was finally shortened to _cyprium_, as indicated above. Thus we see that our present term represents in no sense the characteristic of the metal at first so noticeable.

Native copper scarcely needs a description. Its occurrence in the free state provides an interesting subject of conjecture. Briefly stated, the question of origin is whether the copper was set free by the decomposition of silicates or was in the form of a sulphide in the rock. The chief region of occurrence of native copper is the Lake Superior district. Here are found occasionally large masses of copper, which, strange as it seems, are practically valueless if too heavy to transport, since they cannot be divided without great difficulty. Of the world's total output of copper in 1897, 399,250 long tons[2], a single mine of the Lake Superior region, the famous Calumet and Hecla, produced 40,350 long tons.

Montana is now the first copper producing state in the United States. The state contains the largest mining camp in the world, located in the town of Butte. In 1897 the mines of Montana produced 102,800 long tons of copper. The ore chalcocite, sometimes called copper glance, has a metallic luster, often tarnished green or blue. It is commonly lead-gray and rather soft. Its streak is a blackish lead-gray, Chalcopyrite, a sulphide of copper and iron combined, has already been mentioned under "Iron Minerals" (November issue of BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.) When copper is much in predominance the color of the ore is golden yellow. The streak is dark green. The mineral is harder than chalcocite, but less hard than pyrite, being easily scratched with a knife. Both chalcocite and chalcopyrite frequently occur in silver-bearing rocks.

A method of extracting copper from its ores, equally useful with regard to any of the ores, is known as the English process. The details of this are too elaborate and technical for consideration here. In brief, the process consists of six distinct parts--roasting the mixed ores, fusion of the roasted ores to produce coarse metal, roasting the coarse metal, fusion of the wasted coarse metal to produce what is known as white metal, roasting of the white metal to produce blister copper, i. e., copper filled with cavities, and finally the refining and toughening of the blister copper until marketable copper is yielded. The English method of copper smelting is classed among the so-called "dry" processes, in contradistinction from "wet" processes, or methods involving the use of solutions.

It may be of interest to know the importance of copper in that curious problem of ancient alchemy, the transmutation of metals. Metallic iron placed in certain solutions of unknown composition possessed the power to precipitate metallic copper. With all the wondrous faith in the problems of alchemy the phenomenon was interpreted as one of transmutation and the statement made that iron had been transformed into copper.

Within the last few years a remarkable increase in the output of the copper mines of the world has been recorded. This is due mainly to the demand for copper on account of the great strides in electrical achievements during recent years. Yet there is no doubt that the world's supply is wholly adequate to meet demands on it for a long period to come. The high conductivity of copper renders it especially useful for conveying electric currents and its most important use at present is in electricity. However, it is also a common convenience in many arts. Its alloys are numerous, bronze and brass being the most common. Bronze is an alloy of copper and tin and brass of copper and zinc. The manufacturer of bronze bells finds opportunity for an interesting study of the alloy used in his product. The varying tones of bells are due to the different percentages of copper and tin used in the bell metal.

In locality and mode of occurrence lead is somewhat closely allied with copper, and the ores of lead and zinc are almost invariably associated. Hence a description of lead naturally follows that of copper and may also be understood as typical, so far as occurrence and mining methods are concerned, for that of zinc.

Lead occurs in nature chiefly in the forms of the sulphide, galenite or galena, the sulphate, anglesite and the carbonate, cerussite. Galena is lead-gray, quite soft, and frequently occurs in a coarsely crystalline condition, the crystals often being cubical. The luster is metallic, hence a superficial examination of a specimen might result in mistaking the mineral for the copper ore, chalcopyrite, already described. The streak will serve to identify any specimen, however, it being a lead-gray of much lighter shade than that of chalcocite. Anglesite and cerussite are far less abundant than galena. The former varies from white through gray to yellow and has a resinous luster. Cerussite is white or gray, resembling anglesite, and has a brilliant, vitreous luster. Both minerals, like galena, are soft and easily scratched with a knife.

The ores of lead are widely distributed throughout the United States and it is difficult to assign boundaries to special districts. Galena occurs in small quantities--too small for profitable working--throughout the Appalachian region, and is found in paying quantities in what is known as the Missouri lead district. In the Colorado and other western mines the ore is found in silver-bearing veins. Were it not for the presence of silver in those veins the production of lead from them would probably practically cease, as the anglesite, the principal lead ore of the veins, does not occur in amount to pay for working the mines for that product alone.

White lead, used in paints, is the most important use of the metal. Painters prefer the product to zinc-white chiefly because it is much more opaque and possesses a much greater covering power. Much lead is made into pipes for conveying water. Pure lead is not used for the making of shot, but instead an alloy of lead and arsenic. Unlike pure lead, the alloy assumes a spherical form when dropped through the air. "Shot towers" are constructed to make use of this property in the manufacture of shot. The demands for lead have not been increased by recent extraordinary development of any of the arts employing the metal, hence the world's output of lead during the past decade has had a normal increase. For the year 1897 the total production of lead was 725,200 metric tons.

Footnote:

[2] The common short ton is 2,000 pounds; the long ton contains 2,240 pounds; the metric ton equals 2,204 pounds. It will be noted that statistics of the production of different metals frequently employ different tons as units.

THE YOUNG NATURALIST.

BEES.--Honey is made from many substances. Not only do the flowers give up their nectar to the honey bees, but various other sources of sweets are visited by bees with profit. Clover honey is one of the most common kind, although it is all white clover honey, for the honey bee has too short a tongue to reach into the long tubes of the red clover which the bumble-bees are so fond of. Sweet-clover yields nectar which makes good honey. A dark variety of honey comes from the flowers of buckwheat, and the basswood tree which the German poets sing about, calling it by the name of linden, bears such a wealth of flowers which the honey bees like that it is swarmed day after day by so many bees that the tree seems to hum with pleasure. You can often hear the bees in a basswood tree before the tree itself is in view in the forest. Orange trees are also favorites with the honey-makers.

Broken fruits are often sucked by bees to get material for honey, and cider left in a dish where they can get at it will be visited by them. A mixture of almost any sweet liquid will attract honey bees, and they are so careless of its exact nature that they have been known to store up and make into honey substances that are not good for human beings to eat. One of the favorite forms of adulteration among those who keep bees for profit is to place glucose and water where they can get at it. They will readily fill their combs with this cheap material and seem to do very much more work in the course of a season by having placed within easy reach a mass of material that they do not have to work for.

Margaret Warner Morley, in her charming little book, "The Bee People," which has just come from the press of A. C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, tells how bees frequently make honey from "honey dew." This is a sweet and sticky substance that is found upon the upper side of all sorts of leaves in some localities and has caused a great deal of wonder as to where it comes from. The writer tells of the mountain children she saw in the Carolinas plucking these leaves and licking the honey-dew from them, enjoying their treat much as city children enjoy what they get at the candy store. She says the honey-dew is made by the little insects called ants' cows or aphides. The sweet liquid is thrown out from their bodies, and ants are so fond of it that some of them have been said to keep "cows" and take great care of them in order to enjoy the sweet they get from their bodies.

The aphides eat the juice of the leaves they rest on and change it into honey-dew. Resting on the under side of a leaf and feasting royally, they become so full that the honey-dew spurts from their bodies and showers the upper sides of the leaves below. Sometimes the insects are so thick upon the leaves of a magnolia tree that a shower of sweets comes down upon its lower leaves and the grass below. Trees and bushes shine with the dew, and when dust settles upon the sticky surfaces it is decidedly disagreeable.

Pliny, the first great naturalist, said he thought honey-dew was "the perspiration of the sky, the saliva of the stars, or the moisture deposited by the atmosphere while purging itself, corrupted by its admixture with the mists of the earth." Bees gather it and make it up into honey. Squirrels are fond of it, and gather the leaves one at a time, hold them up in their paws, and lick them with apparent relish.

There are so many truly wonderful things about bees which this talented writer has collected and told in simple language that her book is one of the most valuable of recent contributions to the libraries of those who enjoy the wonders of nature. Although written evidently for children it is of absorbing interest to adults, and furnishes a fund of material for conversation and observation which will make it very much in demand among teachers and parents.

The growth of the bee, the drones, the workers, and the queens, with all the details of their structure as revealed by the microscope, the making of their curious homes, their odd customs and habits, their strange enemies, and a thousand other interesting features, make the subject one of great interest, and we cannot sufficiently honor the memory of the blind naturalist, Huber, who found out more things about bees after he lost his sight than all the world ever knew of them before his time.

BAD GERMS.--In our bodies is constantly going on a great fight between germs of various sorts, if we are to believe those who know most on the subject. Microbes are all about within us, some of them apparently striving to do us good and others trying to kill us. In a few cases men of science have been able to find one kind of germ that will destroy another that is hurtful to the human system. By cultivating many sorts of germs together and separately they have come to know a great deal about what microbes like and what they cannot bear. The so-called poisons of diphtheria and typhoid fever have been recognized as having certain forms and characteristics, and a way of killing them off at wholesale has been found, and so we are not so much afraid of these diseases as we were before these discoveries were made. The germs of cholera and yellow fever are now well enough known to be controlled by sanitary measures, and the doctors are hot on the track of the bacillus of consumption. What relief the world will have when these germs are killed before they have had time to do their deadly work!

A DESERT LIGHT.--In Arizona there is an important well which stands in the desert where its presence would not readily be known, but for the fact that a light now swings from a tall cotton-wood pole so as to light travelers who are within several miles of it in the night. Before the lantern used to be hung there many people died when they might have reached its waters if they had only known how near and in which direction the well really was. Some have died horrible deaths of thirst when only a short distance from its refreshing waters. In order to pass that point travelers have to carry large loads of water to quench their thirst until they reach this well. The number of gallons a company has means either life or death to all. Some time ago a German boy staggered up to the tanks shortly after dark. He had lain down expecting to die with thirst in despair of getting to water, when he saw the light of the cabin of the keeper of the well. So Joe Drew keeps his lantern up at night that others may see the signal from afar and come without delay to the waters.

MINER'S LUCK.--One of the most profitable mines in South America is the Penny mine in Bolivia. Penny was a run-away Scotchman from a man-o'-war who had nothing and hoped for nothing but to keep away from service on the sea. He did odd jobs about the country for awhile and was brought low with fever. He was faithfully nursed through the disease by a native woman who could not speak a word of English. Out of gratitude he married her and treated her well. She rewarded him by taking him into the mountains and showing him an old Spanish mine that had been hidden for years. He began working it and became a millionaire. With a fellow-workman by the name of Mackenzie he brought the mine into a good state of productiveness, and then left for the old country. Mackenzie was made superintendent of his mine, and Mackenzie's son went with Mr. and Mrs. Penny to Scotland. He arrayed his Indian wife in the most costly attire, and made his visit to Scotland memorable by his many acts of generosity. He adopted a nephew and insisted that both young men should take his name and become his heirs. He suddenly died and left his wealth all to his wife, with directions that the two sons should be amply provided for. Complications followed, and the Indian mother died under suspicious circumstances, while the boys contended for possession of the mines. With all the good fortune and excellent intentions of the father the two boys proved to be bad Pennies. They sold out their interests for $500,000 each and are now killing themselves with drink.

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| Transcriber's Note: |
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| Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. |
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| Other correction: De-Quincy changed to De Quincey (page 133). |
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| Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant |
| form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. |
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| Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. |
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| Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs |
| and some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that |
| references them. |
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| Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, |
| _like this_. |
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| The Contents table was added by the transcriber. |
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