at our house, and we were talking of plated ware, which he is engaged in
manufacturing, and to gratify my curiosity he made a plating machine and
replated our knives, forks, spoons and caster. It only cost $4, and it
did the work perfectly. Some of our neighbors saw what we had plated,
and wanted me to do some plating for them. Since then I have worked
twenty-two days, clearing in that time $94.34. At almost every house I
got from $2 to $3 worth of plating to do, and such work is most all
profit. This business is as nice for ladies as it is for gentlemen,
being all indoor work, and any one can do it. My brother, although he
worked two days longer than I did, only made $91.50. I am getting up a
collection of curiosities, and to any of your readers that will send me
a specimen I will send them full directions for making and using a
plating machine like mine that will plate gold, silver and nickel. Send
small pieces of stones, ores, shells, wood, leaves of trees, plants,
etc. Anything small will do. What I want to get is as many different
specimens from as many different places all over the country as I can.
Address
MISS M. F. CASSEY.
OBERLIN, OHIO.
The Night Cap.
In a late letter to the August Constitution Jas. R. Randall discourses
thus pleasantly of the efficiency of the night cap in producing sleep:
About 9 o'clock at night we boarded the sleeping coach for Washington.
Just before retiring for the night my mind, somehow or other, reverted
to an editorial article recently published in the New York Times, half
serious, half earnest, concerning the latest theory of an English
physician as to the prepotent cause of insomnia and nervous disorders
generally. It may be remembered that to the abandonment of the night cap
of our grandfathers (the cotton or flannel article, not the alcoholic)
was attributed the modern tendency of sleeplessness that make even a
philosopher like Herbert Spencer more or less of a crank. What I wanted,
and wanted as the fellow did his pistol in Texas, was first-class
slumber, just such unmitigated repose as occasionally comes to a highly
organized baby, unvexed by colic or pure cussedness. I began to think
that perhaps that British doctor was right, and that, if it were
possible, I would return to the neglected custom of my ancestors. Just
at that moment I plunged my hand into my coat pocket and pulled out a
silk smoking-cap--a pretty thing, wrought for me long ago by the dainty,
delicate, deft fingers of one who now rests in the graveyard at Augusta.
This cap was the very thing. I placed it reverently upon my head, with
an act of faith, and lay down. The result was magical. Never since I was
a boy can I remember to have experienced so perfect and delicious a
repose. Not a dream rippled the surface of my calm brain, and I awakened
hours afterward with a sense of satisfaction that must be a foretaste of
heaven itself. An incipient headache had vanished. Powers of mind that
had been dulled were restored to animation and keenness. Not a trace of
irascibility remained; but in its place came trooping the sweet angels
that Father Faber says continually hover over the good-humored man. I
declare that the metamorphosis was so complete that I almost needed an
introduction to my new self. And this prodigy was created by one grand,
complete and unusual slumber, when wearing a nightcap! Subsequent
experiments have been relatively successful; so I am getting to be an
enthusiast on the subject. Some folks say that it is a delusion, a mere
freak of the imagination. Be it so. If a nightcap can extinguish my
imagination at bed-time, thank God for the discovery! My good old mother
tells me that when I was a little fellow she used to tie a nightcap
under my chin, and that I was a famous sleeper in those times. She is a
firm believer in the efficacy. Likely enough if a man eats pickled pig's
feet at midnight or drinks unlimited whisky, even a silk or cotton
nightcap may not consign him to the arms of Morpheus; but it may work
wonders for a sober person who is cursed with the pestilent habit of
conjuring up all manner or odd fancies when his head touches the pillow,
instead of dismissing the workmen who hammer on the forges of the brain.
The majority of the men will rather suffer nocturnal horrors than be
laughed at for wearing nightcaps; just as the majority of women will
prefer to wear shoes that are instruments of disease and torture rather
than have their feet shod comfortably and sensibly. I have a clear idea
as to which is the course of wisdom and which the alternative of folly.
But this is a diversion which you, readers, may smile at or not as the
whim seizes you.
How to Treat a Boy.
Get hold of the boy's heart. Yonder locomotive comes like a whirlwind
down the track, and a regiment of armed men might seek to arrest it in
vain. It would crush them, and plunge unheeding on. But there is a
little lever in the mechanism that at the pressure of a man's hand will
slacken its speed, and in a moment bring it panting and still, like a
whipped spaniel, at your feet. By the same little lever the vast steamer
is guided hither and yonder upon the sea, in spite of the adverse winds
or current. That sensitive and responsive spot by which a boy's life is
controlled is his heart. With your grasp gently and firmly on that helm,
you may pilot him whither you will. Never doubt that he has a heart. Bad
and willful boys very often have the tenderest hearts hidden somewhere
beneath incrustations of sin or behind barricades of pride. And it is
your business to get at that heart, keep hold of it by sympathy,
confiding in him, manifestly working only for his good by little
indirect kindnesses to his mother or sister, or even his pet dog. See
him at his home, or invite him into yours. Provide him some little
pleasures, set him at some little service of trust for you; love him;
love him practically. Anyway and every way rule him through his heart.
* * * * *
"Etiquette now admits of a second plate of soup." That is all right, but
if a man's appetite will not admit of a second plate of soup, etiquette
is nothing to him. And if he has the appetite, he will have the soup,
etiquette or no etiquette.
* * * * *
Rand, Avery, & Co., Boston, announce a new story--a thrilling and
powerful tale--involving the pregnant question of Mormonism. The book
will be amply illustrated and sold by subscription. The publishers say
that in their opinion this book will serve a purpose not unlike Uncle
Tom's Cabin (of which, by the way, four hundred thousand copies--eight
hundred thousand volumes--were issued in this country, every one of
which bore their imprint). It will hasten the day for the uprising of an
indignant nation, and their verdict will be as in the case of
slavery--this disgrace must cease--the Mormon must go!
Pamphlets, Etc., Received.
Honey, as Food and Medicine. Presented by J. L. Harris, 697 W. Lake St.,
Chicago. This little work contains many valuable recipes showing how
honey can be made useful medicinally and as an appetizer. For
housekeepers in the country who have bees it will be found especially
useful.
Spring catalogue and price list of the Eclectic Small Fruit Nursery. O.
B. Galusha, Morris, Ill.
New State Fair Grounds: Statement by the executive committee, together
with the rejoinder of the Ohio State Board of Agriculture to the
Franklin County Society's reply. This pamphlet will be interesting to
the farmers of that State.
Landreth's Companion for the Garden and Farm, Philadelphia, Pa. Price 10
cents. This book is, as usual, handsomely gotten up, and is truly a
"companion." The prettily colored cover is but an index to the many
colored pages within. It also contains many interesting plates showing
the manner and extent of work carried on by this enterprising firm. The
book is replete with valuable information.
Supplemental Report of the Department of Agriculture of Georgia, for the
year 1883, Circular No. 49, new series. Shows the yield of the leading
crops of the State as compared with 1882; the average yield per acre,
and other matters of interest to the farmers of Georgia.
Descriptive Catalogue of C. A. Hiles & Co.'s saws and ice tools, 234
South Water street, Chicago.
Descriptive catalogue and price list of H. F. Dernell & Co.'s ice tools,
Athens, N. Y.
A. E. Spaulding's annual descriptive catalogue and price list of flower
seeds, plants, and tools, Ainsworth, Iowa.
Report No. 3 of the Department of Agriculture, Division and Statistics,
December, 1883, Washington. This report is full of very useful
statistical information.
Foreign Press Opinions of Madame Marcella Sembrich in Mr. Henry E.
Abbey's Grand Italian Opera Company. These opinions are very flattering,
and if true, the Madame deserves to be well patronized.
Chicago Medical Times, edited by W. H. Davis, M.D. $2.00 per annum, 25
cents a single copy.
Special Report No. 3 of the Department of Agriculture, miscellaneous,
Washington. This report is given up to the discussion of Mississippi,
its climate, soil, productions, and agricultural capabilities. By A. B.
Hurt, Special Agent.
The American Naturalist for January contains the usual number of
well-written articles, and is finely illustrated. This magazine is
devoted to the natural sciences in the broadest sense of that term.
The Silver Dollar: The original standard of payment of the United States
of America, and its enemies. By Henry Carey Baird, Philadelphia, Pa.,
810 Walnut Street.
The twenty-first and twenty-second quarterly report of the Pennsylvania
Board of Agriculture, 1883. Harrisburg, Pa.
The Storrs & Harrison Co.'s Catalogue (No. 2) for 1884. Painesville,
Ohio. This catalogue is fully illustrated with cuts of flowers and
vegetables of almost every known description, so that the purchaser can
see just what he is buying before sending order.
Ohio Crop Report, December, 1883. With analyses and valuations of
fertilizers, meteorological reports, etc.
Compiled Correspondence.
Kane Co., Ill., Jan. 21.--Cold weather continues. On eight days of this
month the thermometer has been below zero. It has been above the
freezing point only on one morning, the 13th. Sleighing is good, except
on some of the graveled roads. Cattle are in good condition. The horse
distemper prevails in some localities among colts. Hay is plenty. A few
fat hogs were sold last week. One farmer, in Kaneville, sold 80 hogs,
averaging 443 pounds each, at $6.10 per cwt. There are but very few fat
hogs left. The cold, dry weather has improved the condition of corn in
the cribs. Coarse feed is scarce. Considerable corn has been shipped
here from Kansas. Bran and middlings are coming in from Minneapolis, and
sell at $15 and and $17 per ton. Cheese factory dividends for November
from $1.50 to $1.60 per cwt. Large quantities of milk are daily shipped
into Chicago from this county.
J. P. B.
* * * * *
I see that you request items in regard to the cold wave that swept over
our country during the first week in this month. There is no doubt the
cold was as intense over the country generally as it has been known for
many years, or perhaps ever before, but so far as I can learn the
damage to fruit trees, etc., is very slight. On the morning of the 16th
of December we had our first snow, but the weather was quite pleasant to
the end of the year, with occasionally slight freezing, but thermometer
never down to zero.
The result of this favorable weather was the thorough ripening up of the
wood of all fruit and ornamental trees, so that when on the 5th of the
present month the mercury ran down to 26 degrees below zero, and in some
parts of the country far below that even, the damage was very slight.
The writer has been extensively engaged in cutting scions, and knows
whereof he speaks. I have also examined some peach trees and find the
wood slightly discolored but not dead. I did not thoroughly examine the
fruit buds of the peach, but suppose, of course, they are all killed.
Had this intense cold weather occurred early in December, there is no
doubt but the damage would have been immense.
There has been a great loss of potatoes in cellars and pits, as most
people had worked themselves into the belief that we were to have a mild
winter, and had not prepared their cellars to resist cold at the rate of
30 degrees below zero. The result is that thousands of bushels of
potatoes are frozen and ruined, and although the largest crop of
potatoes was raised last year that ever was raised in the United States,
yet potatoes will be high priced before planting time.
H. A. TERRY.
CRESCENT CITY, IA., Jan. 19.
Seed Corn Famine.
Probably nineteen farmers in twenty must buy seed corn for next spring's
planting, on account of the failure of the '83 crop to ripen. We must
look sharp to the seeds we buy, that they are better than our own, as
many unreliable parties will offer inferior stocks, to take advantage of
the demand. We suggest that every corn grower should send to Hiram
Sibley & Co., the reliable seedsmen at Rochester, N. Y., and Chicago,
Ill., for their catalogue and seed-corn circulars. This house makes a
specialty of seed-corn and we believe that they will do what they say
they will.
* * * * *
MAPS.
RAND, McNALLY & CO.'S
NEW RAILROAD
--AND--
COUNTY MAP
--OF THE--
UNITED STATES
--AND--
DOMINION OF CANADA.
Size, 4 x 2-1/2 feet, mounted on rollers to hang on the wall. This is an
ENTIRELY NEW MAP,
Constructed from the most recent and authentic sources.
--IT SHOWS--
_ALL THE RAILROADS,_
--AND--
EVERY COUNTY AND PRINCIPAL TOWN
--IN THE--
UNITED STATES AND CANADA.
A useful Map in every one's home, and place of business. PRICE, $2.00.
Agents wanted, to whom liberal inducements will be given. Address
RAND, McNALLY & CO.,
Chicago, Ill.
By arrangements with the publishers of this Map we are enabled to make
the following liberal offer: To each person who will remit us $2.25 we
will send copy of THE PRAIRIE FARMER One Year and THIS MAP
POSTPAID. Address
PRAIRIE FARMER PUBLISHING CO.,
CHICAGO, ILL.
* * * * *
MISCELLANEOUS.
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NOTE.--Send one dollar in postage stamps or currency (in letter
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refunded._
[Illustration]
OUR YOUNG FOLKS
Jule Fisher's Rescue.
It had been an unusually severe winter, even for Northern Aroostook.
Snow-fall had succeeded snow-fall, with no interval that could really be
called "thaw," till the "loggers" had finished their work; and as they
come plodding home on snow shoes, they all agreed that the snow lay from
ten to twelve feet deep on a level in the woods.
No wonder, then, that the warm March sun came to shine upon it day after
day, and the copious spring showers fell, there should have been a very
unusual "flood," or freshet. Every one predicted that when the ice
should break in the river, there would be a grand spectacle, and danger,
too, as well; and all waited with some anxiety for the "break" to come.
One morning, we at the village were awakened by a deep, roaring,
booming, crashing noise, and sprang from our beds, crying:
"The ice has broken up! The ice is running out!"
In hardly more time than it takes to tell it, we were dressed and at the
back windows, which looked down upon the river!
It was indeed a grand sight!
Huge cakes of ice of every shape and size were driving, tumbling,
crashing past, as if in a mad race with each other. The river, filled to
overflowing, seemed in angry haste to hurl its icy burden down the falls
below.
But after a few days the river ran clear, save for the occasional
breaking of some "jam" above. Along the margin of the broad stream,
however, there were here and there slight indentures, or notches, in the
banks, where the ice had escaped the mad rush of waters and still clung
in considerable patches.
It was upon one of these still undisturbed patches that "Jule" Fisher, a
rough boy of fourteen, with several of his equally rough comrades, was
playing on the lovely morning upon which my story opens.
These lads were not the sons of the steady, intelligent, church-going
inhabitants of this quiet Northern hamlet, but were from the families of
"lumbermen," "river-drivers" and "shingle-shavers." For some time they
had been having boisterous sport, venturing out upon the extreme edges
of the ice and with long poles pushing about the stray cakes which
occasionally came within their reach.
At length they grew tired of this, and began to jump upon ticklish
points of ice; and as these began to crack and show signs of breaking
away, the boys would run, with wild whoops, back to shore, the very
danger seeming to add to their enjoyment. Then, with poles and "prys,"
they would work upon the cracking mass until it floated clear and went
whirling down the rapid current.
"Ahoy, boys!" called Jule, who was seemingly their leader. "Up yender's
a big cake that only wants a shove! Come on! Let's set 'er a-going!"
No sooner said than done. Away went the noisy fellows to the projecting
point of ice. A few smart jumps sent it creaking and groaning, as though
still unwilling to quit its snug winter bed. One more jump, and the boys
all ran with a shout beyond the place where the ice was cracking
off--all save Jule.
It had not broken clear, and he was determined to set it going, when he
would spring on the firm ice beyond, as he had done once or twice
before.
But this time he was over-bold and not sufficiently watchful. A large
cake of ice had come floating down the river unnoticed either by him or
his friends, and striking the edge of the nearly loosened mass, shoved
it out into the swift, black water.
Poor Jule! He ran quickly to the freshly-broken edge--but, alas! too
late for the intended spring. The swiftly-rushing current had borne him
many yards from the shore and from his companions.
There he stood--for an instant in dumb amaze--balancing himself upon his
rocking raft with the pole he had been using. To attempt to swim ashore
would have been useless. He was a clumsy swimmer at best; and the cold,
rushing waters and floating ice cakes made swimming almost impossible.
He could not get off. To stay seemed sure death. Dumb with fright, for a
moment he stood in speechless terror. Then there rang across the wild,
black river and through the quiet streets of the village, such a yell of
abject fear as only a lusty lad of that age can give. It was a cry that
chilled the heart of every one who heard it.
A "four-days' meeting" was in session. The village church-goers were
just issuing from their houses in answer to the church bell, when that
pitiful cry and the shouts of "Help! Help! A boy in the stream!" reached
them, and drew them all quickly to the river bank.
In a few minutes the shore was lined with excited men and women. Yet all
stood helplessly staring, while poor Jule on his ice-raft was floating
steadily down toward the falls.
Never shall I forget how he looked as he stood there in the middle of
his floating white throne! There was something almost heroic in his calm
helplessness. For after the first wild cry, he had not once opened his
lips.
Downward he floated, drawn swiftly and surely on by the deep, mighty
rush of waters setting into the throat of the cataract. The heavy roar
from far below sounded like the luckless lad's knell. He stood but a
single chance--and that was hardly a chance--of his ice-raft lodging
against a tilted-up "jam" of cakes and logs which had piled against a
jagged ledge that rose in mid-stream, just above the brink of the
precipice.
This "jam" had hung there, wavering in the flood, for thirty-six hours.
Every moment it seemed about to go off--yet still it clung, in tremor,
as it seemed, at the fatal plunge which would dash it to pieces in the
thundering maelstrom below.
Good fortune--Providence, perhaps--so guided Jule's ice-raft that it
struck and lodged against the "jam," just as the horrified watchers on
shore expected to lose sight of the lad forever in the falls. "If it
will only hang there!" muttered scores, scarcely daring as yet to speak
a loud word.
They could see the cake, with Jule on it, heaving up and down with the
mighty rhythmic motion of the surging torrent; and all ran along down
the banks, to come nearer. The boy stood in the very jaws of death.
Beneath, the cataract roared and hurled up white gusts of spray.
Just at this moment, a short, thick-set man, with a round, good-natured
face, joined the crowd. For a moment he stood looking out at the lad,
then slapping another young man on the shoulder, said, hurriedly, "Isn't
there an old bateau stowed away in your shed, Lanse?"
"Yes," was the reply.
"Quick, then!" exclaimed the first speaker. "There isn't a moment to
lose."
"But, Mac," answered Lanse, as he hurried after him. "I'm afraid she's
no good; she's old and she's been stowed away all winter. Ten to one the
old thing leaks like a riddlin' sieve.
"But we mustn't lose a chance!" exclaimed Mac. "That jam will go out
within half an hour, if it doesn't within ten minutes!"
By this time the two had reached the shed. They quickly drew the bateau
from its wintering place, and taking the long, light boat upon their
shoulders, ran rapidly through the village and down to the river.
Meantime, two or three other men had run to fetch "dog warps" and
"towing-lines," a large number of which are always kept in these
backwoods lumbering hamlets, for use on the rivers and lakes, when logs
are rafted out in the spring.
Acting under Mac's prompt orders, a six-hundred foot warp was at once
made fast to a ring in the stern of a bateau, and another line laid
ready to bend to the first.
Jumping into the bateau, paddle in hand, and a boat-hook laid ready for
instant use, the bold young fellow now ordered the men to shove off the
skiff into the river and then pay out the line, as he should
direct--thus lowering him, yard by yard, down toward the "jam" where
Jule stood.
Rod by rod, they let him down toward the roaring abyss of furious
waters, till the bateau--guided by the paddle, and held back now by the
main strength of twenty men--touched the ice-cake.
But even as it touched, the cake began to slide off the jam; and Jule
was thrown on his hands and knees.
Quick as thought, however, his courageous rescuer struck his boat-hook
into the ice and held fast while Jule, stiff with fright, tumbled in at
the bow of the bateau.
He was hardly in the boat when the whole mass of ice and logs went over
the falls.
A shout arose, and when a few minutes later the bateau was drawn safely
back up the stream, and Mac stepped ashore with a rather bashful smile
on his round, fresh face, every one joined in long and prolonged cheers.
As for Jule, he had to be helped out of the boat and led home; for he
was, as they said, "limp as a rag;" and it was noticed that after this
perilous adventure he was a much more sober and thoughtful boy.