1/2 by 3/8 inch cross-section if only two sticks are to be used; but if
they are to be strengthened by cross-sticks, as is done at Blue Hill,
they should be about 3/4-inch wide and 1/4-inch thick. These sticks can
easily be sawed out of a board of the proper thickness. A B and C D
should each be 60 inches in length. C E should be 18 per cent. of C D;
that is, in a five-foot kite A B should cross C D 10.8 inches below the
top of C D. O is the centre of gravity, or the point where the kite
balances when supported on the finger. It is placed about 35 per cent.
of the distance from C to D. In the simplest form of construction A B is
bent backward like a cross-bow (see Fig. 2), and tied so that the
deepest part of the bow is about one-tenth of the length of A B. The
lower part of the kite should be strung first, and the eye should not be
trusted to make A D and B D equal. The distance should be carefully
measured, because the success of the kite depends on the exactness of
these proportions. In bending A B great care is required to make the
bend on one side of the point of junction at E exactly symmetrical with
the other bend. The slight bagging inward of the covering of the
triangle A E D should be equal to the bagging of B E D. If the kite
flies sidewise, owing to inequality in the two sides, it can be partly
remedied by tying half-ounce or quarter-ounce weights at A or B. If A
should swing too far to the left, tie the weight at B. If B should swing
too far to the right, tie the weight at A. The hanger should be tied in
front of the kite at E and D, and when pulled sidewise should extend
nearly to B, and have a loop or ring tied in it an inch or two inches
below B for the kite line. To make Eddy's kite strong and trustworthy, a
more complex method of building it, adopted by Mr. Fergusson at Blue
Hill, is as follows:
[Illustration: FIG. 5.]
A drawing of the actual size of the kite is made on a floor or a table,
and four screws are driven into the positions occupied by the corners,
leaving the heads projecting about a quarter-inch. The cloth covering is
then stretched over the floor or table, and tacked down several inches
outside of the edge of the kite, as outlined by the screws. A piece of
cord for the edge is then passed around the outside of the screws, drawn
tight, and tied at the top by a square bow-knot. A knot is also made
just below each of the corners at the sides so that when the cover is
transferred from the floor to the sticks the knot will prevent the ends
of the cross-sticks from slipping downward, because that is the cause of
most of the trouble due to bad balancing. The cover is then pasted to
the cord, a lap of about one inch being sufficient, and the cord is left
bare at each corner where it passes over the screws. It is well first to
wet with water the part of the cloth which is to be pasted, and the
paste should be rubbed into every part of the cloth, and a smooth seam
should be made. The cover should not be removed from the screws until
perfectly dry. While it is drying, the kite-frame can be made. The
upright stick is made of two flat sticks fastened at right angles to
each other, so as to form a T; that is, they have that appearance when
looked at endwise. (See bottom of Fig. 4.) The two sticks are glued to
each other, and then firmly lashed. For the cross-stick A B two sticks
set at an angle to each other are used instead of a single bowed stick.
The method of making the angle joint is shown in Figs. 3 and 4. In a
piece of square brass tubing, B, is cut a slot, into which fits the
upright stick, C D. The tubing is then bent around the upright stick,
C D, to the angle desired; a piece of wood, E, is fitted to the angle,
and the whole is firmly lashed together. The ends A and B of the two
arms of the cross-stick are driven into the ends of the tubing and
strengthened by a brace, F. The frame is then ready for the cover, and
the proportions are the same as those of the kite with two sticks. The
ends of the sticks are notched to receive the loops of cord left at the
corners of the cover, and the cover is slipped over the frame with the
knots at A and B beneath the ends of the stick. The cord in the cover
should then be lashed to the sticks, except at C (Fig. 1), and coated
with glue, in order to prevent the cover from drawing away from the
corners. The cord at C is left free to permit adjusting the tension of
cover and string by retying when necessary. These kites will fly without
a tail, but they are much steadier and better if flown with a tail, like
the one invented by Mr. Archibald. This tail does not act by its weight,
since it should weigh only one or two ounces, but by the pressure of the
wind on it. It is made of two or three cloth cones joined to each other
and to the end of the kite at D (Fig. 1) by a fine cord. The front of
each cone is made of a wire ring, stiff enough to hold its shape, and
two cross-braces of wire, or two cross-strings, as shown in Fig. 5. The
tail string is tied to the braces in the centre of the ring, and passes
down through the end of the cone, and several feet beyond it, where a
second cone may be attached. To make the kite lift well, and to fly it
in wet weather, it is best to cover the cloth and sticks with varnish
which is mixed with rubber to make it elastic, as suggested by Dr.
Stanton. The following proportions are used at Blue Hill: Pure rubber,
shredded, 2 ounces; bisulphide of carbon, 2 to 4 pounds. When the rubber
is dissolved, this solution is mixed with spar-varnish in the proportion
of 2 pounds of the solution to 1 pound of varnish, and thinned with
turpentine. Apply a small quantity at a time, evenly distributed, and
give two or three coats.
A new form of kite was invented a few years ago by Mr. Hargrave, an
Australian inventor, who is devising a flying-machine. A picture of a
Hargrave kite floating in the air, taken from a photograph made by Mr.
Alexander McAdie, is shown in the illustration. In this kite the wind
acts on a number of thin strips rather than on a single broad surface,
and at the same time it gets steadiness of flight by putting the planes
in pairs in two directions, and adding side planes. The general
principles to be remembered are to have the width of the kite
five-sixths of its length, the width of the cells a little less than a
third of the length of the kite, and the depth of the cells the same as
their width. The description of Hargrave's improved kite appeared in
1895. Since then numerous forms having something of his principle have
been invented. The most interesting are Lamson's multiplane and schooner
kites, Potter's diamond kite, and Hammon's hemispherical kite, all shown
in the illustrations. No tails are used with any of these kites.
Mr. Hargrave's kite is complex, and not easy to build. Simpler forms of
the frame have been used at Blue Hill, but probably the simplest and
best frame is that devised by Mr. S. C. Keith, Jun., and described here
for the benefit of those boys who may wish to try one.
The cells have the same shape and appearance as Hargrave's kite, shown
in the picture, but the frame is different.
[Illustration]
Fig. 6 is a plan of the kite; Fig. 7 is a side view; and Fig. 8 an end
view. In Figs. 6 and 7 the stick M N is 66 inches long, and has a
cross-section of 1/2 by 3/8 of an inch. At C D and A B are cross-sticks,
two at each place. An end view, at A B, is shown in Fig. 8. The
cross-sticks A F and B E are 33 inches long, and 3/8 inch square, or
even smaller. Small screw-eyes like those used in hanging pictures are
screwed into the ends of each stick. Pass a strong wire or cord--steel
piano-wire is best--through the screw-eyes at A B E and F (Fig. 8), and
fasten it firmly at the corners by a cord, or otherwise, making A E and
B F 14 inches, and A B and E F about 30 inches. Next pass a wire from M
through the screw-eyes at C and A to N (Fig. 6), and then on through F
and G (Fig. 7) to M again, and fasten it. Pass a similar wire on the
opposite side of the kite from M through D B N, etc., to M, and fasten
it. These wires, and also the wire around A B E and F (Fig. 8), should
be light. It is best to have turn-buckles at some point in each wire, so
that it can be tightened after it is in place. Since the sticks at
A E F B and C D G are liable to slip along the wire, it is necessary to
hold them by stays tied to M and N. The cells are made of cloth
(nainsook being the best). After the cloth is folded over at the edges,
and hemmed or pasted, it is in two strips, each 14 inches wide and 90
inches long, so that the strips will pass entirely around the kite-frame
and form two cells, D P and R B (Fig. 7). The distances from the line
B F to N, and from the line D G to M, is 9 inches, and the distance P to
R is 20 inches. The cloth, after being fastened around the kites, should
be tight and smooth. This can be obtained best by putting lacing-strings
in the edges, and making the cloth 3 or 4 inches shorter than the
measure given above--say 86 inches. The cloth should then be fastened to
the corners of the sticks, and also to the wire which passes around the
kite at C D and A B. Next, the edges of the two cells should be laced
together all around by cords running across from one to the other, as
shown by the dotted lines in Fig. 6. To fly the kite, tie a strong cord
at M, and also at the other end, where M N joins the cross-sticks which
run from B and F. (See the broken line in Fig. 7) Tie a ring or a
loop-knot at O at the rear edge of the cell D P (Fig. 7). Or the hanger
may be tied at M, and brought down under the cell D P. In that case the
ring O should come farther forward. It also insures steadiness to run
two strings from O, one to F, and the other to E. The kite-string is
tied in O.
The best material for the construction of a kite is straight-grained
spruce. The best covering is bond paper, nainsook, or silk.
THE PINGRA POL.
BY ALLAN FORMAN.
"Shall we visit the Pingra Pol to-day?" said my Parsi friend, who was
hospitably showing me the sights of Bombay.
"Oh, certainly!" I replied, with alacrity, though I had very vague
notions as to what a Pingra Pol might be, and cherished a hazy idea that
he was some sort of dignitary of the Hindoo Church, an archbishop or the
like.
"You know what the Pingra Pol is?" queried my friend, as we seated
ourselves on the cushions of his neat little gharry behind a team of
spotless white bullocks not much larger than calves. Our driver, clad in
flowing white garments and an enormous white turban, was seated in front
of us astride the tongue, and seemed to guide his animals by patting
them on the flanks. The willing little beasts started off on a brisk
trot in the direction of the native city, and my friend repeated his
question.
"So you do not know what the Pingra Pol is?" he said, smiling.
"I have not the slightest idea," I replied.
"It is our hospital for worn-out and disabled animals, and it is one of
the oldest and most extensive charities in the world. In your country,
if an animal breaks its leg or otherwise injures itself, you kill it to
'put it out of its misery'; we hold that life is sweet to even the
humblest of God's creatures, and that we have no right to take away that
which we cannot give again. So, instead of killing our disabled animals,
we care for them until they die a natural death. This is a part of the
religion of all Hindoos, but some sects are much more strict in their
observance than others. The Jains, for example, will turn out of their
way on the street to avoid stepping on a bug or a worm, and after going
to the temple they wear a cloth across their mouths until sunset, that
they may not breathe in any living creature."
While he was talking we had been trotting rapidly through the narrow
streets of the native city, past gorgeous Buddhist temples, the gay
residences of the wealthy Hindoos, and the tiny shops and squalid huts
of the poorer people. At last we came to a high wall of dried clay which
surrounded an enclosure of about ten acres. On one side was a great
gateway, devoid of ornamentation, but forming a resting-place for scores
of monkeys. Little monkeys and big monkeys; busy, nervous mother
monkeys, at their wits' ends to keep their lively youngsters out of
trouble; and gray, dignified grandfather monkeys, who looked down upon
us as if they were proprietors and managers of the whole busy scene.
Myriads of little green parrots screeched and swung in the trees which
overhung the wall, and blue pigeons plumed themselves in the sunshine.
Through the gateway came the lowing of cattle, the yelping of dogs, the
quacking of ducks, and a strange medley of noises that sounded like a
barn-yard gone mad.
We alighted, and passing through the gateway, where we were provided
with a guide and a quantity of "gram"--a peculiar native grain which
tastes something like pea-nuts--we proceeded to make the rounds of this
strange hospital. A dozen or more camels with broken legs, ragged and
disreputable looking, glowered at us with evil eyes.
The natives say that a camel's greatest delight consists in biting a
man; they can kick, too, in a way that would make an American army mule
blush with envy; but they enjoy biting better; they can then witness the
pain of their victim, while if they only kick him they have to go over
to an adjoining county to view the remains, and a camel hates to exert
himself. From all I have been told, I judge that a camel is a very
even-tempered animal--always ugly.
[Illustration: A CAMEL IS A VERY EVEN-TEMPERED ANIMAL--ALWAYS UGLY.]
From the camels we pass on to the horses, about three hundred of them,
housed in comfortable box-stalls around the walls. Dainty Arab ponies,
sleek and well kept, but with a leg dangling limp and useless. They
crowd about you for caresses, for the Arab pony is a pet by long
generations of breeding, and he craves attention like a house cat,
rubbing against you, and pleading with his soft brown eyes for a lump of
sugar or a bit of salt. Great rawboned "Walers," as the horses which are
imported from Australia for the use of the English army are called,
stand side by side with the shaggy rough little hill ponies, which are
apt to be vicious, and make but a poor showing in comparison with the
lovable, graceful Arabs. Some dozens of gray donkeys, looking as forlorn
and dejected as only donkeys can look, yet fat, sleek, and lazy,
complete the equine section.
All this time we have been threading our way among broken-legged and
broken-winged ducks, cats of all sizes, ages, and colors, and in all
stages of decrepitude, solemn storks standing on one leg, gulls fighting
over some scrap of food that has been thrown to them, tiny striped
squirrels scampering up and down the trees, pigeons without number, and
monkeys everywhere. It seemed to me that there were enough monkeys to
stock all the menageries in the world.
The monkeys, the gulls, the parrots, the storks, and the squirrels are
not legitimate occupants of the Pingra Pol, but they have discovered a
place where they are kindly treated and well fed, and where that
despised and detested creature, man, has to turn out for them instead of
making them fly or scamper out of his way, and they are not slow to
realize its advantages. One has to witness it to appreciate the
malicious joy a bedraggled stork can find in standing directly in the
middle of the path and refusing to budge while the unfortunate human
carefully skirts round his storkship in the mud. Then the bird raises
his head, ruffles, out his neck feathers, and winks a wicked wink of
triumph, and you feel that they make entirely too much of animals in
India.
But we have not nearly finished the Pingra Pol yet. From the horse
enclosure we pass into a much larger court, devoted to animals of the
cow kind. Here are upwards of fifteen hundred water-buffaloes,
trotting-bullocks, sacred Brahmin cows, oxen, some deer and antelope,
and innumerable goats. With the exception of the water-buffaloes, the
motley collection is hardly worth looking at; they are fat, lazy, and
appear to be perfectly contented. The water-buffaloes, which I recently
saw described at a travelling circus as "the ferocious Bovapulous from
the jungles of India," is a most grotesque beast--a smooth skin of faded
black with hardly a hair on it, stretched over so clumsy a carcass that
it looks as if it were badly stuffed, a great head bearing a pair of the
most ferociously villanous horns, and lit up by as mild a pair of light
blue eyes as ever beamed from the countenance of a Quaker. The
combination of the piratical horns and the peaceful eyes gives the beast
a strange, contradictory appearance. It is a harmless creature, and when
not wallowing in the mud, it trudges patiently after its owner from
house to house, and furnishes the best milk procurable in India, unless
you happen to have the rare good fortune to secure the produce of an
imported English cow. These poor beasts are almost all broken-legged,
and while it is satisfactory to see that they apparently suffer no pain,
they are too contented to rouse much sympathy.
With the dogs, however, it is different. There are three or four hundred
of them confined in great cages in a large court-yard, and they are the
only occupants of the Pingra Pol who do not seem satisfied to remain
there. They are all yearning for human companionship, and the barks and
yelps which greet the visitor as he passes their cages are most pitiful.
"Take me away with you; I will be a good dog for you; take me with you,"
is the burden of the canine chorus, and the expression of dull despair
that succeeds the hope that lights each doggy face is enough to melt the
heart of the most rabid dog-hater. There are a few good dogs
here--setters, Great Danes, and mastiffs, and other imported animals
which have been injured and sent here by their owners--but the most of
them are what are known in India as "dogs of sorts," meaning all sorts,
or, as a friend of mine said, "the most thoroughbred mongrels he ever
saw." But some of these mongrel curs make the most faithful and
affectionate canine companions, and it is surprising the accession of
dignity and self-importance that will come to the humblest "yaller
purp" of the streets when he is adopted by a good master. The English
residents use the native mongrels to hunt jackals, as they use
fox-hounds for foxes in England, and the pluck and endurance of the
unpromising-looking beasts surprise a good many Englishmen who have been
used to hunting behind the carefully bred fox-hounds of the
mother-country.
But a globe-trotter can't be encumbered with pets, and we pick our way
out of the Pingra Pol, carefully avoiding the ducks, pigeons, and other
small fry which squat unconcernedly in our path, and dodging as best we
can the sticks and straws which the ever-active monkeys try to drop on
our heads.
"Well, what do you think of one of the oldest charities in the world?"
inquired my Parsi friend, as we passed through the gateway and seated
ourselves in the bullock gharry.
"It is very interesting, but it must cost a deal of money to keep all
those animals after they have ceased to be of any use," I answered.
"Yes; but we cannot kill them, and if one recovers so that it can be
worked, or if there is healthy increase, they are given to deserving
persons who will treat them kindly. The Pingra Pol is supported by
voluntary contributions from the Jains, Parsis, and other Hindoo sects;
there are others in Ahmedabad, Jeypoor, and other large cities. In
Ahmedabad, which is the headquarters of the Jain sect, they have a
building for fleas. When a pious Jain catches a flea among his scanty
garments, he does not do as you cruel Occidentals do, ruthlessly crush
the poor insect. Oh no! He carefully carries it to the Pingra Pol, and
deposits it in the flea-house, where every day a brawny coolie is paid
to spend a few hours and give the inmates a square meal," and my friend
laughed as if he were not in thorough sympathy with the extreme customs
of the Jains.
I found subsequently that this same regard for animal life extends all
over India. The monkey, the gray crow, and the green parrot ravage the
gardens and fields undisturbed save by ineffectual scarecrows.
Occasionally a house-servant would catch a crow and wire a soda cork on
his bill, but I fancy that the crows regarded it as a mark of
distinction; the wild peacocks committed such depredations in the
vicinity of Jeypoor that the people were obliged to employ double sets
of watchers to drive the birds out of their gardens. And in Agra the
monkeys became such a nuisance that the native merchants joined
together, chartered a train of flat cars, which they plentifully covered
with gram, and when the train was well loaded with monkeys busily
engaged in eating, they ran it up country into the jungle about two
hundred miles. I am assured, however, on the authority of a Judge of the
Supreme Court of India, that the monkeys, like the cat, came back, and
that each brought with him seven new chums who had been lured from their
native jungle by tales of city life as told by the involuntary
wanderers. I will not vouch for the accuracy of the figures of my friend
the Judge, but I did not miss any monkeys in Agra or any other part of
India. But while the monkeys and birds are a nuisance, it is far
pleasanter to see them taken care of than killed in wanton cruelty, for
"sport."
[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]
After a season that has been unusual in more respects than one, the New
York Interscholastic football games have come to an end, and De La Salle
stands as the champion of the League. The final game was played on the
Berkeley Oval, a week ago Saturday, between De La Salle and Trinity, the
former winning by a score of 2-0.
[Illustration: FINAL GAME OF THE NEW YORK INTERSCHOLASTIC FOOTBALL
ASSOCIATION.
De La Salle has the ball on Trinity's 10-yard line.]
[Illustration: THE DE LA SALLE INSTITUTE FOOTBALL TEAM.]
The grounds were in miserable condition, and the last part of the game
was played in total darkness. The only scoring that was done occurred in
the first half. De La Salle made a succession of gains through Trinity's
left tackle, and got the ball to within a couple of yards of the line,
when it went to her opponents on downs. Page was then tried for a centre
play in an attempt to get the leather out of danger, but De La Salle
proved equal to the emergency, and forced her opponents over the line
for a safety.
The play in the second half was hard and fast. The ball was kept moving
up and down the field with rapidity. But it soon became almost
impossible for the men to do any kind of systematic work, owing to
darkness, and the game degenerated into a series of blind scrimmages,
from which no one profited, until time was called.
The football season in Wisconsin has come to an end, and the Madison
High-School can claim the honor of having defeated every high-school
team it has met this year. Madison defeated Minneapolis, 21-0, and on
Thanksgiving day routed an eleven who appeared to represent the Hyde
Park High-School of Chicago, 22-0. The Hyde Park team was likewise
defeated on the following day by a combination team from the Milwaukee
East and South Side High-Schools, 12-0. In this last game Milwaukee made
long gains through centre and tackles, but was unable to make any
headway around the ends. The score would doubtless have been greater
except for the fact that fifteen-minute halves were played. The best
work for Milwaukee was done by Tuttrup, full-back, and Collins, centre.
Now that the Cook County High-School Association's football season is
closed, the Chicago athletes will turn their attention to in-door
baseball. Representatives from the Englewood, Austin, Lakeview,
Evanston, English, North Division, and Hyde Park High-Schools met
recently, and made preliminary arrangements for an in-door baseball
championship series. Austin won the pennant last year, and hopes to be
successful again this season. Its most formidable opponents will
probably be Lakeview and North Division. Englewood has never before been
represented in the in-door baseball contests, and Hyde Park has not even
yet set about organizing a team. Nevertheless, the interest in the game
will doubtless insure a successful season.
[Illustration: CLINTON (IOWA) HIGH-SCHOOL FOOTBALL TEAM.]
The Clinton High-School football team is undoubtedly the strongest
scholastic eleven in Iowa. Its record this season is one that it may
well feel proud of; and although nine games were scheduled early in the
season, and only two were played, it was not the fault of Clinton that
this was the case. In the first game Clinton defeated the Savannah,
Illinois, H.-S., 56-0; the second game was against Cornell College, of
Mount Vernon, Iowa, and resulted in a tie, neither side scoring.