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About Bohemia nugget. (Cottage Grove, Or.) 1899-1907 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 13, 1905)
imwwimw wHinmnim.iiiMtimtttiiuiiinii CHAPTEIt XL Conttnued.l David sat doggedly. II had always been dogged ' obstinate. His unci looke.1 lit him curiously, a If studying hi elm rnoter. "David," he wid presently, "you wore had boy at school, where they ought to have flogged It out of you. You were had son to your father, who ought to have cut you off with a shilling. You were a had farmer when you got your farm. If I hadn't taken your land, a stranger would hare had it. Now It's kept in th family. Years ago I thought to give you a lesson, and If you reform ed, to give It hack to you In my will. I now perceive that you are one of those who never reform. I have left itelse where." "Go on." sal J David, "I like to hear you talk." "The old house at Berry your old house Is turned into two cottages. One of those cottages is empty. If you mean to stay in the parish, you can live In it If you like, rent free, for a time that is. until you get into work again or I find a tenant. If you choose to earn money, you can; there are always jobs to be done by a handy man. If you will not work, you must starve. Now that is all I will do for you. When you are tired of Challacombe, you can go away again. That Is my last word, nephew." He turn ed away, and began to busy himself again among his papers. "After the accident and the loss of those papers you were senseless for three days. And after that you got paralysis. Why, what was all that, but a judg ment on yon for your conduct to your own flesh and blood?" "Rubbish:" David said no more. Those best ac quainted with him would have under stood from the expression of his face that his mind was laboriously grappling with a subject not yet clear to him. lie was. in fact. Just beginning to be aware of a very foxy game which he might play with his uncle, though as yet he only dimly saw the rules of that game. It was a new game, too, quite one of his own invention, and one which would at the same time greatly please and stimu late his uncle, whom he meant to be his adversary. He said nothing more, but he sat doggedly and tried to work out the rules of that game. Presently Mary came home from church, and with her George Sideote and Will. They found David sitting with his ancle, but the old man was reading the paper, and David was silent, think ing slowly. "Mary," said David, "you don't re member me, I suppose? "You are my cousin David. Of course I remember you, David, though you are altered a good deal." She gave him her hand. "All the people are talking about your return." Then George and William shook hand with him cheerfully and brotherly. "Why, David," said George, "we must rig you out a little better than this. Come home with Will and me." David turned sullenly to his uncle. "I've one more thing to say: All of you may hear what that is. He offers me a laborer's cottage to live in, and a laborer's work to do, and a laborer's wage to pay, on my own lands my own that he stole, this old man here, sitting struck by a Judgment in his chair. The next time I come here- you may all take no tice and bear witness the question may not be how little I may be offered, but how much I shall take." So far had he gut in his understand ing of the game that was to be played. "How much," he repeated, with a chuckle "how much shall I take." "Dear me!" said his uncle. "This is Will? When did you come down? And bow it your writing business? Take Da vid away, George; I am afraid you'll find him very tedious very fedious in deed." CHAPTER XII. We took David away with us; but the old man was right; he was Insufferably tedious. To begin with, hU mind seem ed absorbed; be answered our questions shortly, and showed no curiosity or In terest tn us, and pretended no pleasure at seeing us again; he was lumpish and moody. "Mother," said George, "I've brought David Leighan to dinner. He came home last night." The old lady gave him her band, with out the least appearance of surprise that David had returned in so tattered a con dition. "You are welcome, David," she said. "Yon will tell us after dinner some of your adventures. I hope you are come to settle again among your own people.' "My own people," he said, "have been ao kind that I am likely to settle again among them." "I will take David upstairs, mother," said George, "for a few minutes; then we shall be ready." When they came downstairs David pre sented a little more of his old appear ance. There remained a certain slouch ing manner which suggested the tramp, and the sidelong look, half of suspicion, half of design, which la also common to the tramp; but as yet we knew nothing of his pant life and adventures. When he was dressed be sat down to dinner. Then it was that we made a very painful discovery. Our friend, we found, had entirely forgotten the sim plest rules of manners, the very simplest. It was clear that he must have gone down very low indeed in the social scale In order to get at those habits which he now exhibited. Were they acquired In the Pacific, or in Australia, or in America, where, as we afterward learn ed, David bad spent his years of exile? I think In none of these places. He lost his manners because he had lost his self respect, which Is a very different thing from losing your money. During the op eration of taking his food he said noth ing, nor did be reply if he was addressed; and he ate euough for six meu. After dinner George and I took chairs LJ 111 III ' U1,1" Uil meniimiiiiiHiiii iimiiiniiuiil'UWlinii with us, and sat In the old-fashioned Kir den of Sideote, under a gnarled and an cient apple tree. "Our David." I said, "was always In clined to be loutish. Ue has been devel oping and cultivating that gift for six years with a pleasing result." "There is something on his mind," said George. "Perhaps he will tell us what it Is; perhaps not. David was never particularly open about himself. Strange that he should begin by looking for his uncle's grave! Why did he think that he was dead?" "He believed what he hoped, no doubt." "In the evening. Harry Habjahns tells me, he had a kind of fit a hysterical fit of laughing and crying in the Inn." "That was perhaps because he had learned that his uncle was still alive." This was indeed the case, though not in the sense I intended. "And this morning, the first day of his return, he begins with a row with his uncle. Well, there is going to be mia- i chief at Gratnor ." I -... k. ...i...i.t. .... .... ,,wj, n link Hum u.ik inn c t'vi "I don't know. David went away cursing his uncle. After six years he comes back cursing him again. When a man broods over a wrong for six years, mischief does generally follow. First of all, the old man will do nothing for him. Do you understand that? There was s. solid obstinacy in his eyes while he list ened to Davivl. Nothing is to be got out of him. What will David do?" "He will go away again, I suppose, unless he takes farm work." "David is as obstinate as his uncle. And he is not altogether a fool. There will be mischief." "George, old man, I return to my old thought. If you and Mary marry with out old Dan's consent, her fortune goes to David. Does David know?" "I should tuink not." "To which of the two would the old man prefer to hand over that money?" "To Mary, certainly." "So I think. Then don't you see that some good may come out of the business after all?" "It may come, but too late to save Sideote. He means to have Sideote. My days here are numbered. Well, It Is a pity after five hundred years" he look ed around at the inheritance about to pass away from him only a farm of three hundred acres, but his father's and his great-grandfather's and he was si lent for a moment. "As for work, what would I grudge if I could keep the old place! But I know that over at Gratnor there sits, watching and waiting his chance, the man who means to have my land, and will have it before the end of the year." "Patience, George. Anything may happen." "He is a crafty and a dangerous man, Will. We can say here what we cannot say in Mary's presence. He is more crafty and more dangerous now that he is paralyzed and cannot get about among his fields than he was in the old days. He cannot get at me by the same arts as he employed for David. He cannot persuade rne to drink, and to sign agree ments and borrow money. But the bad times have done for me what drink did for David." So we talked away the afternoon in a rather gloomy spirit. Life is no more free from sharks in the country than in the town; there are in Arcadia, as well as in London, vultures, beasts, and birds of prey, who sit and watch their chance to rend the helpless. "And so," he aaid, summing up, "I shall have to part with the old family place, and begin In the world again; go out as David went out, and return, per haps, as he returned." "No, George; some things are possible, but not probable. That you should come back as David has come back la not pos sible." At that moment the man of whom we spoke came slowly out of the house, rub bing his eyes. "When you are among the "blacks." he said, "yon never get enough to eat." "What- are you going to do now you are come home, David?" "I will tell you, George, In a day or two. The old man says he will do noth ing for me we'll aee to that presently. He s turned the old farm house at Berry into two cottages, and the building are falling to pieces. Says I can take np my quarters in one of the cottages, If I like; that is liberal, Isn't it? And I am to earn my living how I can; that's gen erous, isn't It?" "Try conciliation, David." "No, Will; I think I know a better plan than conciliation." CHAPTEIt XIII. This was all that David told us. We saw, Indeed, very little of him after this day. He took what we gave him without a word of thanks, and be did not pre tend the least Interest In either of us or our doings or our welfare. Yet he had known both of us all his life, and he was but five or six years older. A strange return! Knowing now all that I know, I am certain that he was dazed and con founded, first at finding his uncle alive, and next at the reception be met with. He was thinking of these things and of that new plan of his, yet imperfect, by which be could wreak revenge upon bin uncle. This made him appear duller and more stupid than was his nature. We sat waiting for more experiences, but none came. How, for instance, one would have been pleased to inquire, came an honest. Devonshire man to consort with a gang of fellows who had all "done something," and were roving and tramping about the country ready to do something else. Before David lost his head he used to drink, but not with rogues and tramps. Yet now he confess ed without any shanie to having been their companion a tramp and vagabond himself, and the associate of rogues. By what process does a man descend so low la the short space of two or three weeks as to Join such a company? I looked cu riously at his face; it was weather-beaten By SIR WALTER DGSANT ' and nronsed, but there was no further revelation In the lowering and moody , look. "I dare say," he once said, "that you ! were surprised when I came to look for his grave?" "It Is not usual," I said, "to ask for the graves of living men." "I was so certain that he was dead,'' he explained, "that 1 never thought to ask. Quite certain I was; why" her he stopped abruptly "I was so certain that I was going to ask what It was be died of. Yes; I wanted to know how he 1 was killed." ! v.... it - i .1.- l . u -am -ome one roin you mm n was dead. Who was that?" "I will tell you now not that you will believe me; but It is true. He told mo himself that ho was do. id." "I do not say, David, that this Is Im possible, because men may do anything. Permit me to remark, however, that you were In America, and your undo was in England. That must have made It dim cult for your uncle to talk with you." "That Is so," he replied. "What I mean Is, that every night it began af ter I'd been in New York and got through my money every night, after I went to sleep, his ghost used to come and sit on my bed. 'David.' he said. 'I'm dead.' A lot more he said that you don't want to hear. 'David.' come home quick,' he said. "David. I'll never Irav.i you in peace until you do come homo,' he said. Every night, mind you. Not once now and again, but every night. That's the reason why I came home. The ghost has left off coming now." "This Is truly wonderful." "What did hed o it for?" asked David. angruy. neu got my land. vt ell, as for as for what happened, my score wasn't paid off by that." "What did happen?" "Never mind. He'd got my land still; and I was a tramp. What did ho want i to get by It?" "Y'ou don't mean. David, that your uncle deliberately haunted you every ' night? No one ever heard of a living I man's ghost haunting another living man. A dead man's ghost may haunt a living man. perhaps, though I am not prepared , to back that statement with any expert-j ences of my own. Perhaps, too, a living I man's ghost may haunt a dead man; that i would be only fair. Turn and turn about, j you see. But for a live uncle to haunt I a live nephew no, David, no." I "He is crafty enough for anything. I I don't enre who done it," suid David,' "it was done. Every night It was done. And that's why I came hoinV again, j And since he's fetched mo home on a ! fool's errand, he's got to keep me." "But it wasn't his fault that the ghost j came. Man a!ie! he wanted his own' ghost for himself. Consider, he couldn't get on without It!" "He brought me home, and he's got , to keep me," said David, doggedly. Then he slowly slouched away. j "lie is going to the in i," said George.) "Will, there is something uncanny about ! the man. Why should ho have this hor-j rible haunting dream everv night?" "Uemorse for a crime which he wished I he hail committed, perhaps. An od 1 com bination, but possible. If he hail mur dered his uncle he might have been j oauntea in mis way. isnes he had murdered him, you see. Imagination supplies the rest." (To he continued. WALKED 6,000 MILES IN YEAR. Buaineaamun Who Performed the Kent Kuslly, On Jan. 1, l!Mi3, I conceived the Idea of walking 5,000 miles before the ex piration of the year, nays a writer In Outing. The object was not to achieve any unusual feat nor to accomplish any consplcious performance. The under lying motive was, rather, to Insure a plan by which regular ami systematic exercise could be obtained. To travel this distance It was neoes- J nary to cover an average of 14 in I lea a day. Now, 14 miles for a day's walk Is well within the compass of the ordl- , .. ..... I I .....!. . . 9 unrj uinu. jul nu . jisiniui ti& ui this length Is one thing, the sustained j effort, day after day through the year, Is another. Let rne answer the question by say ing that at the end of the year I had completed a distance on foot of 5,205 miles, a dally average of 14 V4 miles. The stipulated 5.00O rnlle were tin. lshed on Dec. 10, but an additional 200 miles were covered in order that each of the 52 weeks of the year might claim an average distance traversed of 100 miles. I set out upon my enterprise with the knowledge that it was Incumbent upon me to maintain a dally average of 14 miles, and I made It a rule, when prac ticable, of keeping about the average, bo as to have sometnlng In hand to meet the emergencies which were al most certain to arise. That they did arise was shown by the fact that for 15 days In the year, owing to sick ness, lameness and railway traveling, no walking whatever could be Indulged in. The Inability to utilize these 15 duys was equal to a loss of over 200 miles. It will, therefore, be seen that, under the circumstances named, It was Imperative on many occasions, to ex ceed the distance of 14 miles a day In order to preserve the average. At the beginning of my walk my weight was 102 pounds In street clothes, while at the end of It my weight was 178 pounds. This loss of 14 pounds was In every way accepta ble. The avolrduio!s lost was only re dundant weight, and I felt, as a result, more active, stronger and harder. In the matter of health, I felt decidedly better than I had done for several years. tier Sweet Way. Church I suppose you let your wife have her own sweet way? Gotham Oh, yes; I like but one lump of sugar In my coffee, but she Insists on putting In two. Yonkeri Statesman. Not a Capitalist. Lady What? Y'ou've Just come out of prison? I wonder you are not ashamed to own It. Ne'er-do-Well Well, I don't own It, lady I only wish I did. I was mero ly a lodger. Chicago Journal. .Y 'AT-. Clean Witter for lion. How to provide- clean water for the hog la one of tin' problems. It la dlttl cult to devise any means by which water can bo kept before tbo swine at nil times nnd yet bo so nrnuiged that tbo hogs will not wallow In It. It appears, however, as though a valu able suggestion looking to the solurlou jof this point baa been made In n late Issue of the Iowii Homestead by Kansas farmer who suggests n plan from which the accompanying cut lias WATr.it nautili kou itooa. been made. Writing to our content- Krary this man says: "It ts my opinion that many of the maladies mul much of the fatalities among hogs Is due to carelessness on tbo part of the owner by which tbo hog la compelled to take- Into Ilia sys tem largo nnintltles of filth in bis drinking water. I know where then? are wallowing places It Is Indeed a problem to prevent this, because If there U one thin which a hog delight In more thun another it Is to bathe himself In mud and then try to dry It off In the drinking trough, and he gen erally succeeds quite well. And a bunch of them can usually put three or four Inches of mud In the bottom of a trough In a single week. I enclose you a drawing Illustrating the plan that I have used for some time, In try ing to keep my troughs clean. The trough In Mils case Is miido out of two pbtnks, one 2xS and the other 2xt, n piece of eight Inch plunk IS Inches long nailed on each end. To this In turn two other planks nre nailed, thus fur nishing nn agency for scraping off considerable mud from the hogs while they are drinking. I then mill on tin upright, ns Is Indicated In the Illustra tion, mortised out ao that a plank may b raised or lowered directly nbovo the center of the trough, the height de pending upon the size of the hogs that have access to the trough. I acknowl edge that It takes a little Inbor to make troughs of this kind, but where one has a big bunch of hogs I believe that he can save the price of his mate rial and lubor almost every day." Corn Shock Hinder. I have seen two articles of late tell ing how to tie corn in the shock. Will give my way, which I believe to bo more rapid than either the former arti cles teach. The accompanying cuts will give the Idea at a glance. I take a curved stick (the end of a buggy shaft Is liest) about .TO inches long. Bore a half Inch hole .1 Inches from the larger end nnd put through It a piece of rop 12 Inches long and tie the etuis to gether, forming n.rlng or loop. Into this loop tie n piece of rope .'51 f'"''1 long, or longer If very large shocks urn to be tied. To the other end of this rope tie a 4-Inch ring made of Vj-lnch rod (I use an old breeching ring). This mnkes the compressor complete as shown nt Fig. 1. In tying the shock take the stick in your right hand and throw the rope and ring around the shock. Catch ring In left hand and slip stick through It as far as you can, then bring stick to the right until oth er end passes through the ring, as shown at Fig. 2, when the shock Is ready for tying and the compressor can be turned loose, as It will stay In place. This Implement can be used for a two-fold purpose. In husking corn I use a shorter one like this for tying stover. Untie the shock and lay It down, then as you pulllhe ears off gather the stalks In yjmjurtlrss have the binder lying straight ottfjt your side, and when you get an armful lay the stover across the rope, pick up the ring In one hand and the stick In the other, slip ring over end of stick and slip down until entire stick has passed through the ring the same as In tying shocks. Tie twine around the bundle, which can then be reshocked If not ready to haul. This way takes a little more time at first, but saves time and trouble when you come to haul, and the stover will take less room In the shed. J. H. Freeman. Rod-Hound Fruit Trees. Sod-bound trees are not very com mon, but they are to be met with. When a tree baa made a good growth and has spread out Its top to cover Its feet there Is little danger of Its be coming sod-bound, for the branches of the tree catch most of the sunshine and the grass growth below Is meager. The sod-bound condition comes when the tree Is either very young or so old that the leaves are thin and few. The young tree that Is set In grass ground and has never obtained a very gcod hold of the ground is the one most likely to become sod-bound, which means that the roots of the grass have possession of uue soil and r taking most of the plant food and COB SHOCK HI .tUK 11. rtiolstttre. Alien a tree ran be relieved c:i y by digging out the grass and glr 1'it; Its roots the '"Mrs tiso of the ground. (tout or Hlivep. The Angora goat certainly has not yet becoini very popular In New Eng land. There are a few small flocks, but those who have them seem less enthusiastic than they were two or three years ago, nnd their neighbors do not seem anxious to Invest In them. In Texas and some other States of tbo South and Northwest they appear to give better satisfaction. Keports from many sections In the Eastern Slates show an Increased Interest In sheep nnd many line docks can be found, cs peclally of the larger English mutton breeds. Vermont seems to stand by her Merinos, ns she properly should, for they have attained a high reputa tion find have sold at high prices, but even In that State may be found good flocks of Oxford. Shropshire nnd Hampshire, and these seem to be tlx favorites with those w ho are startlnj new flocks or those who have flocks of mixed breeds that they wish to Im prove by crossing with a pure tired ram of a larger breed, l.rt the good work go on, until New England has as many sheep In pnqxirtlon to popu lation aa were here a century ago. lKtrail't Pay to Coddle Alfalfa. If an alfalfa field Is In bad condi tion It Is usually best to plow up and re-seed. It scarcely ever pays, nt least where irrigation Is practiced, to cod dle it poor stand of alfalfa. Many growers recommend disking every spring, even when the stand Is good, nnd some have even found It a pay ing practice to disk lifter each cut ting. Such disking will often prevent the encroachment of weeds. In the Eastern States alfalfa fields sometimes suffer a check In their growth, tend to turn yellow and otherwise show a sick ly condition. Oftentimes this condi tion Is accompanied by an attack of alfalfa rust ir spot disease. The best remedy for such a condition Is te mow the Meld. The vigorous growth thus Induced may overcome the dlsensed condition. Way to Pull 1'itale. S. W. Leonard says In Farm nnd Baui'h: "I will give a plan for pulling up old fence posts. Take n chain nnd put It around post close to the ground. A TEXAS I'liKT-l'l I.I.KIi. Tnke a piece of plank, say 2 feet long, 2 Inches thick and N Inches wide; set bottom end about 1 foot from post; let chain come up over plank mul lean plunk toward post. Fasten single-tree to end of chain nnd when horses pull the post will come straight up." The fdiiiib Fud. The Inflated boom for squab nils lng has nearly passed off. mul yet the legitimate squab plants continue In business. It Is with this branch of the poultry Industry Just exactly as It Is with other branches, the egg busi ness, the duck Industry, the Bel gian hare, etc. Every little while there la a big stir made about ono of these enterprises, creating quite a fever for a time. This gradually sub sides, and thnt particular business set tles down to Its proper basis, nnd many who keep on In their usual way, raising squabs, pullets for laying, ducks, etc., continue to secure, not un told wealth, but fair profits from their operations. Hmut Attacks Lute Hown drain. Early sowing of cereals when tho soil temperature Is low gave In expe riments with barley, oats and spring wheat less smut than late sowings. In a similar manner, less smut will be found on those cereals grown on a cold clay soil than on a loamy soli, and, as a rule, the greatest amount of disease will be found in cereals grown on sandy humus soils. A high tempera ture of the soli during the first week after sowing favors the germination of the smut pores, and consequently the Infection of the cereals. Cereals will germinate and begin their growth at a temperature below that at which the fungus can develop. New Eng land Homestead. Why Strawberry Plant Die. Many strawberry plants die because they are kept too long after being dug before transplanting. Borne die be cause aet too deep and the crown or center of the plant Is covered. But in a dry time more plants die from a lack of pressure on the soil about the roots than from all other causes. In a wet season they will live if left on top of tho soil with no earth to cover the roots. Plants out of the ground are like fish out of water. Thirefore the sooner they are In their natural element the lower the death rate. Keeping the Holt Fertile. Prof. Hopkins suggests: If the soil Is acid or sour, apply lime to it to make It sweet. If the soil Is poor In nitrogen only, grow clover or some oth er legume which has the power to se cure nitrogen from the air. If the soil Is poor In phosphorus only, apply bone meal or some other form of phos phorus. If the soil Is poor In potassi um only, apply potassium chloride or soma other form of potassium. James It. Dill, one of the foremost oomorntlon law vers of America, ws I a . . .'a,Ltl appointed ny uovciiior room- Jersey a Judge ol the Court of Errors and Appeals of the State, lie surren ders an hi' ie of f;iis,(s a year from his law prac tice to become n Judge w llh a salary of f.'I.IHMI. Ills last private act was to refuse a ret nlner of f'Jo.lNMI offered by nu Insurance finan cier. W ithin twen ty days Mr. 1111 placed on tile In Al bany his resignation ns director In ninety one cumpii nles of the Slain of New York. Ill New Jersey be has withdrawn from many nioii rporu- lions. He has notified clients that he can no longer serve them. Hence forth his duty Is to the Slate. (In this account the Standard Oil t'oinpany, the steel trust ami the Public Service Corporation Med written protests with the Governor and opposed the appoint ment. Mr. Dill's fees have been enor mous. The career of this famous cor poration lawyer In the Judgo's chair will be subjected to the closest scru tiny. William A. Day, who has been ap pointed acting comptroller of tho Equitable Life, succeeding Thomas D. Jordan, who was ousted. has been special assistant t tho Attorney Gen eral of the t'nlti! States several jears, ami since 1IKI.1 hns I i In chn rge of the prose ciitlon of trnn cases. For a tlim he also was it i aiiitltor In flie treas ury department. u" "A v " Mr. Day formerly lived at Danville, III. He was a delegate to the Demo cratic National Convention of 1HSI, and Is credited with halng discovered) at that time the plot between Tam many and General Benjamin F. Butler to stampede the convention for Hen dricks. Mr. Day gave timely warn ing of the scheme to William C. Whit ney nnd Daniel Manning, and be was rewarded with a government olllce. General James It. Cnniahan, tnnjor general of the filiform Bank, Knights of Pythias, died recently nt tils bom I u Indianapolis. James It. Cariin ban was born nt Bnytoii. lint., Nov, P. ISM. When the Civil War broke out he Join ed the late lien era 1 Lew Wal lace's zouave art n private. Later be Join e d t h O Eighty sixth Indi ana ICeglmelit. Af ter the war be I A O N . II A . studied law nnd practiced a number of years at Lafayette. He Julned tho Knights of Pythias In 1S71 nt Lafay ette ami was elected grand chancellor of Indiana In !S.si. lie was regunbsl as the founder of the uniform rank. Mini was elected Its llrst major general In 1HH4, which position he held at tho time of his death. He was past de partment commander of the G. A. It. General Carnahan was appointed sj member of tho visiting committee to West Point military academy last year by President Uoosevelt and delivered an address there. James Van Alen, the expatriated American, is said to nave exiiimteii ills I lovo for lavish expenditure of money by I buying forty hats for some of his women j friends at the recent opening of Countess . abrlcotti's millinery shop In London. William Woodvllle Itockhlll, minis ter to China, who has notified the Pekln government that It must ot- serve treaty stipu lations nnd frown on the boycott on American goods, Is a diplomat of wide experience. He uas served as sec retary of legation at Pekln, was charge d'affaires In Korea, has been minister to Greece, Houmanla vM. w. iioi kiiu.u and Bcrvla, also tlrst assistant Secretary of State. At tho congress lit Pekln, following the Boxer uprising, ho was United States plenipotentiary and signed the final protocol. Mr. Itockhlll has traveled extensively In the far East. Among other oillclal positions that ho has held was that of director of the bureau of American republics. Camllle Flammarlon's new perpetual calendar starts the year at the vernal equinox, March 21. Every quarter should contain two months of thirty days ami one month of thirty-one days. This would make 1154 days. The same dates would occur on the same days of the week and on calendar would last a life time. Prof. A. G. Wilkinson Is dean of the patent olllce examining corps at Wash Ington, having been In charge since lMtia. Us was graduated lu 185(1 from Yale. II. Mil.. Ci r;,. A.v wmik 1 11 i - m