THE WEST SHORE.
WHICH?
The following tells its own story, and a
beautiful one it is, too to be read best,
and sounding sweetest when the family
circle have gathered around the evening
lamp. It cannot but touch a father's or a
mother's heart, and make them appreciate
the more their household darlings :
'Which shall it be P Which aholl it be?"
I looked at John, John looked at me.
(Dear patient John, who loves roe yet,
As well as though my locks were jet,)
And whn I found that I muat speak,
My voice seemed strangely low and weak :
"Tell me again what Robert said,"
And then I, litt'ning, bent my head
"This is his letter."
"1 will give
A house and land while yon shall live,
It, in re tarn, from out your seven,
One child to me for aye is given."
I looked at John's old garments worn,
I thought of all that John hod borne
Of poverty, and work, and care,
Which I, though willing, could not share ;
I thought of seven mouths to feed,
Of seven little children'., need,
And then of this.
Come, John," said I,
"Well choose among them as they lie '
Asleep," so, walking hand in hand, .
Dear John and I surveyed our band,
First to the cradle lightly stepped,
Where Lillian, the baby, slept,
A glory 'gainst the pillow white.
Softly her father stooped, to lay
His rough hand down its loving way,
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said, "Not her not her."
We stooped beside the trundle bed,
And one long ray of lamplight shed
Athwart the boyish faces there,
In sleep so pitiful and fair ;
I saw on Jamie's rough red cheek
A tear undried. Ere John could speak
'He's but a baby, too," said I,
And kissed him as we hurried by.
Pale, patient Bobbie's angel face
Still in his sleep bora suffering's trace.
"No, for a thousand crowns, not him."
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
Poor Dick I bad Dick I our wayward son,
Turbulent, reckless, idle one
Could he be spared f "Nay, He who gave
Bids us befriend him to the grave ;
Only a mother's heart can be
Patient enough for such as he.
"And so," said John, "I would not dare
To send him from hor bedside prayer."
Then stole we softly up above,
And knelt by Mary, child of love.
"Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a ourl that lay
Across her cheek in wilful way,
Atid shook his head. "Nay, love, not thee,"
The while my heart beat audibly.
Only one more, our eldest lad,
Trusty, faithful, good and glad
So like his father. "No, John, no
I cannot, will not, let him go."
And so we wrote in courteous way,
We could not give oue child away,
And afterward toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that which we dreamed,
Happy, in truth, that not one face
We missed from its accustomed place :
Thankful to work for all the seven,
Trusting the rest to One in Heaven.
THE LAND OF BUNCH CRASS.
From the OregonlRi),
A good many years ago we lived in
Kastern Oregon, the land of clear skies
and bunch gra.su. It is a goodly country
to live in, so we thought then, especially in
the way of sunshine which is a rare lux
ury in the W'ebfoot nation and beef steak,
which is a desideratum in all civilized
countries. But we shared the then uni
versal opinion that for purely agricultural
purposes the land of clear skies and bunch
grass must prove a failure. True, there
were good productive farms along the nar
row bottoms, where the mountain streams
meander through the hills and high table
lands, and it had been sufficiently demon
strated that in the same localities excellent
fruit could be raised. But these little val
leys comprised but a small part of the
country, altogether inadequate to the pur
poses of extensive agriculture. Hence the
idea that that vast region must remain for
ever or until the grass was eaten and
tramped out merely a pasture for cattle.
We have just returned from a visit to
the bunch grass country, in the course of
which we found that a change had come
over the spirit of the dreams of that region,
and things were not as they "used to were."
There is bunch grass there yet, and cattle
in great abundance, and the skies are bright
as ever. There are farms and orchards
where there were farms and orchards; but
they are no longer confined to the narrow
valleys. They have crept up the hillsides.
They have squared themselves over the
"lower benches" instead of following the
sinuous courses of the creeks. They have
multiplied in number and spread them
selves out upon the derated plains. And
they have, by this last movement, shown
how fallacious the old notion was. The
uplands of Eastern Oregon are good grain
lands. They arc good agricultural lands
generally. They are fit for wheat and oats
and barley and vegetables and orchards.
Wherever water can be got for ordinal'
uses the farmer may safely count on as
good returns for his labor as on the lower
lands, except in respect of those crops that
require irrigation. It is a demonstrated
fact that Eastern Oregon is to be a great
farming country.
It is often said down here that the stock
business in Eastern Oregon is overdone
the range eaten out. That is a mistake.
There are sections where the grass is about
gone, but they are comparatively small sec
tions. Not the tenth nor the twentieth
blade of grass is ever cropped. Of course
the most choice stock ranches are occu
pied. The pioneers are justly entitled to
the first choice and they get it. But there
are plenty of places for good stock farms
left. Between The Dalles and the Des
chutes, over toward the Tygh, or the plains
beyond White river, there is room for thou
sands of settlers, where they could get belter
homes than in the northwestern States of
the Mississippi valley. The country is only
waiting for people sturdy, industrious
people, who are willing to work, who do
not expect to reap without sowing.
Improvement goes slowly in the farming
of Eastern Oregon. The want of conven
ient markets for the products of the farm
and garden prevents rhe, rapid develop
ment of this kind of industry, but there is
growth. The farms are not only more
numerous, but are better tilled. The local
demand for their product increases gradu
ally, and the increase is more than met by
increased production. In the Tygh valley
the farms are looking quite farm-like.
They have a good flouring mill situated at
the falls of White river a hundred per
cent the handsomest waterfall in Oregon
by the way where the wheat crop of the
region round about is marketed. This is
quite an item to that part of the country.
But the great staple of Eastern Oregon
is stock horned cattle, sheep, horses.
They are to the country what the mines
used to be, and more. Everybody talks of
stock and nearly everybody owns stock.
This is, and will be for a long time, the
principal source of wealth. Bunch grass
is the mine that is worked with least labor
and exiense, and with greatest profit.
GROWING OLD.
How strange our ideas of growing old
cliange as we get on in life I To the girl
in her 'teens the riper maiden of twenty
five seems quite aged, Twenty-two thinks
thirty-five an "old thing." Thirty-five
dreads forty, but congratulates herself that
there may still remain some ground to be
possessed in the fifteen years before the
half centuryshall be attained. But fifty
does not by any means give up the battle
of life. It feels middle aged and vigorous,
and thinks old age is a long way in the
future. Sixty remembers those who have
done great things at threescore, and one
doubts if Parr, when he was married at
one hundred, had at all begun to feel him
self an old man. It it the desire of life
in us w hich makes us feel young so long.
Many a man who would roll up his eyes
I in terror at the idea of stealing a nickel
will swoop down on a silk umbrella worth
I $10, and march off with his lips moving
' peacefully as it in prayer.
HOW MESSAGES ARE SENT BY
THE OCEAN CABLE.
The ocean telegraph operator taps, the
"key" as in a land telegraph, only it is a
double key. It has two levers and knobs
instead of one. The alphabet used is sub
stantially the same as the Morse alpliabci
that is, the different letters are repre
sented by a combination of dashes and
dots. For instance, suppose you want to
write the word "boy." It would read like
B is one dash and three dots; 0, three
dashes; and Y, one dash, one dot, and
three dashes. Now. in the land telegraph,
the dashes and the dots would appear
on the strip of paper at the other end of
the line, which is unwound from a cylin
der, and perforated by a pin at the end of
the bar or armature. If the operator could
read by sound, we would dispense with
the strip of paper, and read the message
by the "click" of the armature as it is
pulled down and let go by the electric
magnet.
The cable operator, however, has neither
of these advantages. There is no paper
to perforate, no click of the armature, and
no armature to click. The message is read
by means of a moving flash of light upon a
polished scale produced by the "deflection
of a very small mirror," which is placed
within a "mirror galvanometer," which is a
small brass cylinder two or three inches in
diameter, shaped like a spool or bobbin,
composed of several hundred turns of small
wire wound with silk to keep the metal
from coming in contact. It is wound or
coiled exactly like a bundle of new ropc,-a
small hole being left in the middle about
the size of a common wooden pencil. In the
centre of this is suspended a very thin, del
icate mirror about as large as a kernel of
corn, with a correspondingly small magnet
rigidly attached to the back of it. The
whole weiglis but a little more than a grain,
'and is suspended by a single fibre of silk,
much smaller than a human liair, and al
most invisible. A narrow horizontal scale
is placed within a darkened box two or
three feet in front of the mirror, a narrow
slit being cut in the centre of the scale to
allow a ray of light to shine upon the mir
ror from a lamp placed behind said scale,
the little mirror in turn reflecting the light
back upon the scale. The spot of light
upon the scale is the index by which all
messages arc read. The angle through
which the ray moves is double that tra
versed by the mirror itself, and it is, there
fore, really equivalent to an index four or
six feet in length, without weight.
To the casual observer there is nothing
but a thin ray of light, darting to the right
and left, with irregular rapidity ; but to
the trained eye of the ojierator every (lash
is replete with intelligence. Thus the
word "boy," already alluded to, would
read in this way : One flash to the right
and three to the left is B. Three flashes
to the right is 0. One to the right, one to
the left and two more to the right is Y, and
soon. Long and constant practice makes
the operators wonderfully expert in their
profession, and enables them to read from
the mirror as readily and as accurately as
from a newspaper.
Ot: Wealth. The land in cultivation
in Oregon and the products thereof, and
the stock raised and gold mined thereon,
if divided among the voters of the State
would give to each the following: zi acres
of land, 193 bushels wheat, 110 bushels
barley, 6 tons of hay, 69 pounds of wool,
8 dollars in gold dust, 4 bushels corn, 19
head of sheep, 4 head of hogs, 3 head of
horses and mules, 10 head of cattle, 1
pound of tobacco, 19 bushels of potatoes,
43 bushels of applet, 3,617 feet of lum
ber, 7 pounds of cheese, 57 poundt of but
ter, making $1,479 5 to each voter, inde
pendent of coin. We challenge any State
in the Union to equal this showing.
Why are tom-catt so musical ? Because
the' are all fiddle-tiring, inside.
3
' DAVE CAFFIN'S GROUSE.
Dave Calfin, who keeps a boarding
house at Emigrant Gap, on the Central
Pacific Railroad, is very hard of hearing
can hardly hear anything that is not shout
ed in his ear. Dave is fond of hunting,
and very often takes his gun and scouts
about the mountains in search of grouse,
quail and other game.
A Comstockcr who was snow-bound at
Cisco for a day or two last week tells the
following story about Caffin : He had
been out hunting and was going home
with a grouse he had killed. As he came
out of the wood and struck the railroad
track he was overtaken by a stranger, who
asked: "How far is it to Cisco i"
"Yes," said Dave, holding up his grouse,
"I got one of 'em."
"I don't think you understand me,"
said the stranger : "I asked how far it was
to Cisco."
"Yes, he's pretty fat,'t said Have, "he'll
make a very good stew."
"You must be a d d fool I" cried the
stranger.
"Certainly, certainly I" said Dave;
"there's a good many of 'em flyin' alow
this year." lirginia Enttrprist,
CLOSING CRACKS IN STOVES.
It may he convenient to know a ready
method of closing up cracks, which are not
uncommon, in cast iron stoves; and we
are assured that the following recipe a
reliable one. Good wood ashes arc to be
sifted through a fine sieve, to which fe
added the same quantity of clay, finely
pulverized, together with a little tail. The
mixture is to be moistened with watet
enough to make a paste, and the crack of
the stove filled with it. This cement don
not peel off or break away, and assumes an
extreme degree of hardness after beita;
heated. The stove must be cool when the
application is made. The same substance
may be used in setting in the plates of
stove, or in fitting stove-pipes, serving to
render all the joints perlcctly light.
POSTAL CARDS.
What rights in courtesy have letter
writers who do not consider their corres
pondents of inqmrtance enough to give
their epistles to them the poor compliment
of an enclosure? How is a communi
cation to be entertained when the writer
confesses by the postal card that it isn't
worth a sheet of pacr and a postage
stamp ? That the postal card is very useful
for circular notes, for announcements, for
communicating any simple fact that doc
not call for a response, no one can deny.
But we submit lliat social custom ought to
establish that a missive of this kind calling
for a response, excepting on business mat
ters concerning the recipient, is an imper
tinence: and that a postal card partaking
of the nature of correspondence as ordi
narily understood, is entitled to no respect,
or consideration whatever.
TEST FOR PURnVoFWATKH.
A glass tube of about a yard in length,
closed at the end by a cork, and renting
uimn a white dish of rcclain, is recom
mended for determining the purity of
water, as the slightest tint is seen again
the white ground, and the different sMr
indicate different ingredients. A green
tinge is produced by minute alga: ; a white
oiocity often by fungoid growths, iron salts
by a peculiar ochry color, The apnratia
is termed the chromiomctcr.
Exphiikcie. "IJid you ever break a
yoke of four-year-old steers?" asked a
Rock county, Iowa, farmer of 1 young
Janesvillc chap, who wanted to inar7 ha
daughter. "No, I never did," was the
meek reply, "but I liave rode a mule in a
circus." "No other experience," said the
Granger, "could qualify you, young man,
for trying to handle tliat girl," and the tad
youth deiarted.
Many 1 woman who knows how to drcti
herself, don't know how to dress a chicken.