Chapter XVII (3)

The truth of the adage about the hand that rules the world being the one that rocks the cradle is again exemplified, but this time not in the world of statesmanship, but in that of science. Nikola Tesla, who ranks with Edison in electrical invention, was, as a boy in Montenegro, full of mischief, and also under the guidance of a remarkable woman--his mother. He once went by himself to a chapel in the hills back of his native town, and managed to get himself locked in it at night. A search was made for him, but there was no clew until, clear and sharp on the night air, rang out the tones of the chapel bell. Nikola was cold, nervous, and hungry when found.

On another occasion, when up to some boyish pranks, his mother suddenly appeared on the scene. He was so startled that he fell into a kettle of fresh milk, spoiling the milk and his clothes at the same time.

Like many other men who have become famous along one line of usefulness, young Tesla was started in life at another line. His father wanted him educated for the Church, but his mother encouraged his scientific tastes, and finally had her way. She was a woman of unusual ability, force of character, and ingenuity. This last characteristic was developed in her embroidery, which was of artistic and original designs, and made her famous all through the part of Montenegro in which she lived. To his mother's love and influence Tesla attributes much of his manhood's success.

* * * * *

Natural-History Bit from West Australia.

Some time ago you asked for descriptions of wild flowers and
fruits: I live in West Australia, so far north that we have flowers
in our yard every month in the year. This past winter, during July
especially, we had very cold weather for this part of Australia,
yet our sarsaparilla grew well. It is of a lovely deep purple, and
its flowers sometimes wholly cover a stiff stem eighteen inches
long. In summer we have a flower called kangaroo's claw. It grows
slowly, and has only one flower. Its slender stem looks like red
plush. The flower resembles a man's hand held out to shake with
you. The "fingers" are green, and, odd to say, there is always a
pale green spot at the tips, that look like finger-nails.

We have a queer tree. It has pale green leaves, with prickly under
leaves, and a cream flower that smells like Daphne. But the oddest
thing about it is the fruit, which looks like luscious pears, but
which is nothing but wood. Not a few people here send the fruit to
their friends living in England, who use it to fool people with.
The latter, if they do not know the fruit, can easily be induced to
sit down with knife and plate to eat it. There is also here a Zamia
palm. It looks like a huge pineapple, with a top like a close fern.
The sprouts shoot up through the centre like two smaller
pineapples. When the palm is opened one can scrape off from the
inside very delicate wool, which country folks often use for beds
in place of feathers. Cattle sometimes get hold of the wool and eat
it, and it is most injurious to them. If the mails permitted, I
would like to send you some of this wool.

ALICIA SHAW.
PRESTON.

* * * * *

That Electric-light Outfit.

Mr. H. C. Durston was interested, as doubtless many others were, in "A Small Electric-light Outfit," and he writes, "Can you tell me if, by increasing the size or number of battery cells, I can get power enough to run a ten-candle-power lamp?" Increase the number, not the size. Yes. "Where can I get the small lamp mentioned, and what is its life?" Apply to the Standard Electric Lamp Company, 248 West Twenty-third Street, New York. Following are the claimed life: 1/2-candle power, one watt, no life guaranteed; 1/2-candle power, two watt, 100 to 200 hours; 1/2-candle power, three watt, 600 hours; and 1/2-candle power, four watt, indefinitely.

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NEW EDITION OF

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* * * * *

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York

THE EDUCATED PIG AND THE PLUM-TREE.

A little pink pig with a curly tail once lived with his brothers and sisters behind a great red barn. He was brighter than the rest, and soon learned that of the apples brought to their pen the yellow ones were sweet, the red ones hard and pithy, and the green ones so sour that they made him squeal.

One day a travelling showman passed that way, and was so pleased with the pig that he invited him to join his menagerie. A beautiful sky-blue cage with gold trimmings was placed at his disposal, and he pricked up his ears and tossed his head with pride as he strutted behind the gilded bars, and thought of his brothers and sisters squealing and scrambling over their trough of swill. But a hideous hyena lived in the cage next to his, and snarled and yowled till poor piggy was in a perfect chill from fright. On the other side an idiotic five-footed calf blaated from morning till night. Indeed, one could not blame the poor thing, for he had to stand very straight and still, or his many feet would get themselves so tangled he could never tell which ones to use first if he wanted to go to the right or to the left.

But piggy's life was not a happy one. He longed for the open barn-yard and his bed of fresh sweet hay. He studied hard and learned his lessons well, but the wiser he grew the more he felt that a circus was no place for a pig to live. So, at the very first chance, under the tent slipped piggy, and across the fields he trotted as fast as he could go. Along a dusty country road he went till a most delicious odor of ripe June apples tickled his nostrils. Under and over and between the cruel barbed wires he tried in vain to squeeze his plump little body.

But soon he spied a spreading plum-tree right in the middle of his path. Its branches hung heavy with ripe yellow fruit, and eagerly he rooted in the tall wet grass. But was ever such a thoughtless tree? Not a plum had it dropped in the night for hungry, homeless pigs. Sweeter smelled the fruit and hungrier grew the pig. His little bias eyes blinked with tears as he looked up at the luscious yellow load. Softly he rubbed himself against the trunk and asked so gently, so humbly, for just a taste, that nothing but a hard-hearted scaly barked tree could have refused. But never a leaf stirred. Every plum clung selfishly to its twig, and piggy could have cried with vexation. Surely plums were made for pigs! Why could he not have his share? Angrily he flung himself at the base of the tree, but he was not as heavy as before he became a circus pig, and nothing was hurt but his back. This was too much. Was he to be lamed and bruised by a scrubby old tree just because he admired its fruit? In a rage he took a running start, and struck the tree head first a fearful blow. But, blinded, he staggered back, and nothing but stars came floating down. Hurt, angry, he threw himself upon the ground. Sharp keen darts of hunger stabbed him in the side. He drooped his ears, and thought to himself of what use were his training and education if he were now more helpless than the monkeys of the show or the squirrels of the forest? He looked at his bony little hoofs and wished they were claws; at his short stiff legs, and remembered the nimble little barn-yard kitties. Sorrowfully he glanced at the tree. An ugly gnarly knot grinned at him like a hideous face. Its ear and mouth seemed twisted into one. A thought came to the pig, and creeping close to the side of the tree, he said softly to himself, "I wonder if this orchard belongs to yonder farm?" The tree kept very still. "For," said the pig, "it seems a shame, but I heard the farmer say to the hired man, 'John, go over to-morrow and cut down that scrubby old plum-tree in the path. It is no good; chop it up for fire-wood. The plums are not fit for a pig to eat.'" A mighty fear seized the tree as it heard the dreadful words. It quivered and shook in every limb, and plums pelted poor piggy till he squealed and squirmed with the pain. In vain he dodged and cried "Enough!" but the plums continued to fall till nothing was left on the tree but the joke.

* * * * *

GOVERNESS. "Now, if I should take ten apples and put them in the basket, and then take three more, and then five more, and put them in--what would that be?"

MADGE. "Addition!"

GOVERNESS. "Well, if I should give Madge eight apples, and Tom six apples, and Jack two apples--what would that be?"

JACK. "That would not be fair!"

* * * * *

OVERHEARD IN THE COUNTRY.

"Bzzz!--bzzz!--bzzz!" said the Bee.

"Hoh!" said the Ant. "Bzzz! What a queer combination! It doesn't spell anything."

"Well, who said it did?" retorted the Bee. "I never pretended to be a Spelling Bee."

* * * * *

WILLIE'S GAME.

"Willie, you mustn't mock people when they speak. It's very impolite."

"I didn't mean to be impolite, mamma. I was just playing I was the echo."

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Round Table, October 6, 1896, by Various