Part 9

This celebrated curiosity can be seen in a little churchyard a few miles outside of London. It is located close beside the Parish Church (St. Mary) in Watford, an ancient shrine of faith where “Prayer and Praise have been offered to God for seven hundred years.”

The Rev. Henry Edwards, Vicar, sent me the following information about the man who was buried with a fig in his hand. The Vicar concluded with a prayer.

“The Fig-Tree Tomb, near the S. wall of the Parish Church of Watford, is the source of many old tales, the most authentic being that of Ben Wangford, a naval officer, who did not believe in the future life, and wished when buried to have something placed with his remains that might germinate and burst the tomb, in order that, if it did, his friends would know that his opinion was wrong.”

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SIDIS--THE PRODIGY

Sidis was one of the four noted American prodigies; Winifred Stoner II, Edward Harvey, Jr., and John Trumbull, the poet, were the other three.

Dr. Boris Sidis, professor at Harvard, was his father.

At the age of six months Sidis could recite the alphabet; at two he could read and write; and at the age of eleven he matriculated in Harvard and astounded his professors by discussing the fourth dimension.

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THE ILLITERATE CALCULATOR

Jedediah Buxton, the illiterate calculator, in a month’s time, without the aid of paper or pencil, figured out that a cubical mile could contain 586,040,972,673,024,000 human hairs. It took him three months to multiply an English farthing 140 times with itself, arriving at the figure of 725, 958, 238, 096, 074, 907, 868, 531, 656, 993, 638, 851, 106 Pounds, 2 Shillings, 8 pence.

He was then asked to multiply this stupendous sum by itself and after two and one-half months announced the result to be 527, 015, 363, 459, 557, 385, 673, 733, 542, 638, 591, 721, 213, 298, 966, 079, 307, 524, 904, 381, 389, 499, 251, 637, 423, 236 pounds.

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THE GIRAFFE GIRL

“_--On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin’-fishes play, An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the Bay!_”

If you follow the above road to Toungoo and then ascend the hills to the west you will come to the land of the Giraffe women, the long-necked Burmese belles of Padaung. The Kewawngdu, as they call themselves, are remarkable for the extraordinary collars of brass that they weld around their necks from time to time until a giraffe-like effect is obtained.

In Burma “Her throat is like the swan” is not a mere poetic figure of speech in so far as length is concerned. Some of the women brought down to Mandalay to be gazed at by the Great King of Righteousness and the Dwellers in the Palace, have necks fourteen and fifteen inches long.

The neckband consists of brass rods, as thick as your little finger, commencing with a wide base on the shoulder blades and reaching up to the chin. Little girls begin wearing them as early as possible usually starting with five rings, which are as much as most of them can manage, but as the neck is kept constantly on the stretch, additional ones are added from time to time until the ordinary limit of twenty-one coils is reached. Twenty-five and more have been worn, however.

At the back of the neck, fastened through the main coil, is a large heavy ring which is used for tying up these rubber-necked ladies whenever the occasion demands such procedure.

If the family be well-to-do, similar coils of brass are added to the arms and legs; and the length of these seems only limited by the ability to pay for the rings--for brass is very expensive. Sometimes the total weight of brass carried by Padaung flappers is as much as sixty or seventy pounds: yet burdened with this weight, they hoe the fields, carry water for domestic use, and brew liquor.

The brass-collar fashion has no apparent effect on their health, and the only noticeable effect is that the women speak as if someone had them tight around the neck.

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GOD’S HEAVEN

Of course you expect to go to Heaven when you die. We all do. The hope is in all of us, that when we die, we will go to Heaven and rejoin the other members of our family who have passed on.

Take my advice: make a reservation. Heaven is becoming very crowded and it is extremely doubtful whether you can get in; and should you manage to squeeze yourself past the pearly gates it is even more doubtful whether you could find your family among all that crowd.

We will say that you go to Heaven to meet your father and mother and the rest of your kith and kin. When you meet your father and mother, they will be with their father and mother, for they would have the same desire to be with their parents as you have to be with them. And their parents in turn would be with their parents; so on back through the countless generations of mankind.

So you will have to meet them all. You cannot be snooty in Heaven, you know, and snub anybody.

Now, if we take 25 years as a generation, we find that there have been 77 generations since the time of Christ. And if we count only your parents, their parents, and so on backward for that length of time, we find that you will have to meet 302,231,454,903,657,293,676,543 different relatives.

Our own little world would not hold that stupendous number.

If that many people were on earth today they would have to be stacked up on each others’ heads. Allowing them two feet to stand on this would make a stack of one solid mass of folks 113,236 miles high all over the earth’s surface.

Suppose you wanted to say “hello” to your dear old grandfather who happened to be located some 113,000 miles up the heap. Of course you would have to climb--there would be no other way except to scramble up this human bean-stalk like little Jack. Let us assume that you can climb one-half as fast as the U. S. Army marches--which is 15 miles a day. If you climbed at the rate of 8 miles a day you would reach your old grandpap about 39 years later--providing you didn’t get yourself knocked off meanwhile for stepping on somebody’s ear in the ascent. Of course you will be able to slide down faster and should reach your own place in Heaven about 50 years after you left it.

That is 2 generations--which means that maybe your children and some of your children’s children will have squeezed in and been looking around for you. You really couldn’t expect anybody to hold your place for you for 50 years, so do not be surprised if you are out all around and not able to find your own children anywhere ... which means that you will have a hell of a time in Heaven.

Mind you, the above figures do not include brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, cousins and other relatives. Also I am allowing only for 1928 years, although scientists tell us that man has been on earth for countless generations before that time--some estimate it as 100,000 years. And, since science has proved so conclusively that you are related to all animals with four legs or a long tail that have lived on this earth for the last 100,000,000 years, you will have to include them too. They are all your ancestors!

As a social proposition the celestial outlook appears a bit embarrassing, doesn’t it?

St. John records the limits of Heaven in Revelations, XXI., 16:

“... He measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs. The length, and the breadth, and the height of it are equal.”

Twelve thousand furlongs is 7,920,000 feet, and when cubed this is equal to 496, 793, 088, 000, 000, 000, 000 cubic feet--in other words Heaven as visualized by St. John is about 15 miles long in each dimension. If you allow 10 cubic feet as ample space for a human being, you will find that Heaven can hold about 49, 679, 308, 800, 000, 000, 000 persons if packed in tight. This calculation does not allow for the streets of gold or the trees of marvelous leaves and fruits, or the “pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.”

It is apparent that Heaven was filled up several hundred years ago--or about the time that Columbus was discovering America.

What to do?

Obviously there is but one way out. You must die sometime, and since it is so evident that you cannot go to Heaven, where shall you go----?

You said it.

THE VOCAL MEMNON

THE STATUE THAT SPEAKS

A mile from the Nile on the opposite shore from the ruins of Karnak two huge stone figures sit in staring isolation. Each represents a colossal king 64 feet high, seated upon a throne, which is itself supported by a pedestal. Though the faces of both have been hacked out of all human resemblance, everyone knows that these statues are the effigies of the same King--Amunoph, or Amenhotep, whose son’s daughter married King Tut.

One of the colossi is mute, but the other is the famous Vocal Memnon, the statue that speaks!

That is--it did speak. There are 87 legible Greek and Latin inscriptions upon the legs of Memnon which testify to the time and hour of the day at which the phenomenon was heard. Famous men of many ages listened. There are the words of Emperor Hadrian, Sabina, his wife, Tacitus, Pliny, Pausanias, Lucian, and Strabo describing the miraculous musical sound emanating from the stone ... “like the snapping of a huge harp string” ... “like the sound of smitten brass.” Some heard the voice of the image several times. According to the inscriptions February and March seemed to be by far the most propitious months, and the morning hour the most favored vocally--as soon indeed as the sun’s rays fell upon the statue--as though “Aurora kissing her son upon the lips received an articulate reply.”

The explanation?

Two alone of the many hypotheses put forward are worth considering. A multitude of wild conjectures, based principally on imagination, but claiming pseudo-scientific or mechanical interest, crumble away when touched by the merciless finger of fact. There, remain the rival theories that the voice of Memnon was a fraud practised by the ancient Egyptian priests; and the other that it was a natural phenomenon to be explained by physical causes. The latter theory has the most credence--the conclusion irresistibly suggests itself that the sound was due to some peculiar relation between the warmth of the rising sun and the great block of cracked and sundered stone.

It has been a long time since our hero has spoken, and it seems that

Memnon’s lyre has lost the chord That breathed the mystic tone.

Certainly they do not recognize the cartoonist’s profession. I was stared at in stony silence on the occasion that I stood before the Vocal Memnon and his mute companion and waited patiently for a word from them. It was near dusk, and the glowing sun was sinking suddenly down behind the hills that enclose the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings as it caused the images to darken hugely and throw out long-streaking shadows that emphasized the size of them and made their silence louder than words.

THE KING WHO WAS CROWNED BEFORE HE WAS BORN

Apparently such a thing could never happen.

But it did.

In Persia, during the 4th century, the wife of Shah Hormouz remained pregnant at the time of her husband’s death, and the uncertainty of the sex of the unborn child, as well as the event, excited the ambitious hopes of the princes of the house of Sassan who were moved to seize the throne.

The apprehensions of civil war were at length removed by the positive assurances of the Magi that the widow of Hormouz had conceived and would safely produce a son. Obedient to the voice of superstition, the Persians prepared, without delay, the ceremony of his coronation. A royal bed on which the Queen lay in state was exhibited in the midst of the palace in the presence of the assembled multitude, and the crown of the Sassanids was placed on the spot which might be supposed to conceal the future heir. Meanwhile the prostrated assembly adored the invisible and insensible sovereign.

The magi proved to be correct in their prophecies, and the crowned child was a boy who lived to rule an extraordinary length of time under the name of Sapor II.

_Ref.: Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall.”_

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Chou Kung, who invented the compass, had a swivel wrist on which he could turn his hand completely around.

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Lollia Paulina, wife of Caesar Caligula, wore a dress valued at $2,000,000 and a pearl necklace worth $3,500,000.

_Ref.: Pliny the Elder._

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A small toy balloon was released in New Jersey by A. Perry and was found later in Venezuela by J. Quintero of Maracaibo.

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Leon Avazian, of New York, climbed the stairs to the top of the Woolworth Building in 9 minutes. 55 stories. 1520 steps.

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THE 153-YEAR-OLD BRIDEGROOM

Zaro Agha is never too old to yearn.

The stalwart old Turk, who is probably the oldest person alive, was married in 1927 despite his 153 years. During his long and eventful life, Agha has buried ten wives and twenty-seven children, but he was not discouraged and his spirit is ever young--and the mystery of a woman’s veil allured him.

Zaro possesses a keen memory which enables him to tell tales of events that reach back to our Revolutionary War days. He makes an annual visit to President Kemal who always gives him a hearty handshake and several hundred liras. The Governor of the city of Constantinople has presented him with a house, and last year the Prefect made him Municipal Doorkeeper for life.

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THE EYELESS INFANT

This child is now four years old and normal in every way except for the complete absence of eyes. He was born with his frontal bone joining to the cheek bones which eliminated even the eye sockets which are but slightly indicated by two small depressions.

The boy was born in Sablonceaux (Charente Inférieure), France, and has six brothers and sisters who are all normal.

_Ref.: Gazette Médicale de Paris._

* * *

Robert Jones who performs this remarkable feat of strength and balance is worthy of a place among the famous Joneses of athletic history. Young Robert is a pupil of the celebrated Paulinetti, and is an accomplished acrobat and gymnast.

He stands on his thumbs on Indian clubs with ease--and he is ready to do it anytime.

Jones lives in Philadelphia where he is attached to the editorial staff of the _Strength Magazine_.

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THE LYRE BIRD

This beautiful bird is obviously so-called from the shape of its tail. The extraordinary tail of this bird is often upwards of two feet in length, and consists of sixteen feathers, formed and arranged in a very graceful and curious manner. The two outer feathers are broadly webbed, and, as may be seen, in the illustration, are curved in a manner that produces the appearance of an ancient lyre. The two central tail-feathers are narrowly webbed, and all the others are modified with long slender shafts, bearded with alternate feathery filaments which well represent the strings of the lyre.

The tail is seen in its greatest beauty between the months of June and September after which time it is shed. The bird is a native of New South Wales.

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* * *

SINGING SANDS

One warm afternoon in Honolulu--it seems to be always afternoon there--I was stretched full-length on the sands of Waikiki doing nothing--as is my wont--except watching the two Kahanomoku boys and Kealoha do tricks on their surf boards when the Duke casually suggested “Why don’t you draw a picture of the Barking Sands?”

What?

“Sure,” continued the Duke, “the sands of Kauai over yonder actually bark when you step on them.”

Sands that bark, eh? I had to see the doggone place. Kauai is one of the western islands of the Hawaiian group about 75 miles from Honolulu. Along the shore at Nahili is this series of wind-blown sand-hills about 60 feet high and stretching along for about a half mile. The front wall is quite steep. The bright white sand is composed of coral, shells and particles of lava, and true enough it possessed the particular property of emitting a sound, when stepped on, like the barking of a dog. Two handsful when clapped together produce the same phenomenon. The sound varies with the degree of heat, the dryness of the sand, and the amount of friction employed. The drier the sand the louder the sound--and our running foot steps sounded like rolling thunder.

Since then I have learned that this strange caper of nature is known in other parts of the world under different names such as Singing Sands, Sounding Sands, Rumbling Sands, Musical Sands, etc.

Marco Polo wrote of the musical sand-hills of Tunyang in Central Asia. Ibn Batutah, the Moor of Tangier, speaks of the Hill of Drums near Mecca. The famous Friar Odoric tells of the Reg-i-Ruwan, or Moving Sands of Kabul, and Lord Curzon writes of many of them in his “Tales of Travel.”

The exact cause of this sonorous quality in sand has not been fully agreed upon. The scientific explanation is rather difficult. The American researchers, Doctors Bolton and Julien arrived at the following conclusion:

“The true cause of the sonorous property is connected with thin pellicles or films of air or of gases thence derived, deposited, and condensed upon the surface of the sand-grains during gradual evaporation, after wetting by the sea, lakes or rains. By virtue of these films the sand-grains become separated by elastic cushions of condensed gases, capable of considerable vibration. The extent of the vibration and the amount and tone of the sound thereby produced after quick disturbance of the sand, is largely dependent upon the forms, structures, and surfaces of the sand-grains, and especially upon their purity or freedom from fine silt or dust.”

OYSTERS THAT CATCH MICE

Irish oysters of course! Probably bi-valves of any other nationality would not be so pugnacious.

Be that as it may; there has been a battle royal going on this year on the northeast coast islands off Donegal. Thus far the limpets have had far the better of it and thousands of rats have fallen in the unequal struggle.

The armies of rats which infest this district have been adventuring to the waterside in quest of food. At low tide the rats insert their noses between the partly opened shells of the oysters, hoping to make a meal off the edible shell-fish, but the latter are exceedingly sensitive to the slightest touch and instantly close on their enemies with a vise-like grip. The rats are held tight as in traps, and soon the rising tide creeps in and crowns the oysters victors.

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Here is a letter from Mr. Henry C. Avery, of Fishers Island, New York.

“Dear Rip:

Yesterday at low tide my family and I were witnesses to a tragedy of unusual nature. A pair of kingfishers had been our friends for weeks, making our dock their headquarters, and flying around us without fear.

My daughter and I were digging clams in about an inch of water, when one of the kingfishers darted down within a few feet of us and struck at something in the water. He struggled with it as a robin often does with a worm. The struggle lasted not more than half a minute as we walked toward the bird. As I drew near the bird was still. I tried to lift it from the water but it held fast. I then dug deep into the mud and brought up a large clam of the hard-shell variety which had clamped firmly to the bird’s bill. The bird was dead, either drowned or died of fright.

Believe It or Not, Henry C. Avery. Aug. 7, 1925.”

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A Billion Dollars in London is Worth a Thousand Times As Much As a Billion Dollars in New York

Strange as it may seem, an English billionaire is many times richer than an American billionaire.

And why not?

A billion in England is a million million (1,000,000,000,000), but in the United States a billion is considered to be a thousand million (1,000,000,000). See any dictionary.

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A SPIDER IS NOT AN INSECT

Are you surprised?

So was I until I discovered that a Spider is an Arachnide. The Arachnida family consists of Spiders, Scorpions, and Mites. These beings breathe atmospheric air, have no antennae, and have four pairs of legs attached to the fore parts of the body. The fact that they have more than the normal number of six legs is alone sufficient to separate them from insects.

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ST. PATRICK WAS NOT AN IRISHMAN

The patron Saint of the emerald isle was a born Frenchman, having first seen the light of day in Tours, France. His real name was Succat. His father’s name was Calpurnius, and his mother was a sister of St. Martin, the Bishop of Tours.

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BUFFALO BILL NEVER SHOT A BUFFALO IN HIS LIFE

It is not my intent to cast aspersions on the famous name of Bill Cody, but it is nevertheless a fact that the valiant old warrior never shot a single buffalo in his long career along the frontiers.

Buffalo Bill was not to blame. He earned his name--but not the name of “Buffalo” Bill, because the only true buffaloes are found in the old world, principally in Africa and India.

The American animal is the bison and is distinctly indigenous to North America.

The bison differs greatly from the buffalo, both in appearance and habits. The buffalo resembles an ox more than a bison, and has short hair besides being very fond of the water.

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SEX APPEAL

Lady Gough, distinguished blue-nose of England, wrote a book on _Etiquette_ in 1863; and on page 80 I find this paragraph:

“The perfect hostess will see to it that the works of male and female authors be properly separated on her bookshelves. Their proximity unless they happen to be married should not be tolerated.”

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“THE QUEEN OF SPAIN HAS NO LEGS”

When Margaret of Austria, Queen of Philip III, entered Spain in 1599 she passed through a town celebrated for the manufacture of silk stockings; and the authorities, wishing to show her courtesy, presented her with a costly pair. The offer was indignantly refused and the delegates were sternly informed that the “Queen of Spain had no legs.”

Since that day of rigid etiquette it has been customary to say that, officially, “the Queen of Spain has no legs.”

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A PHILADELPHIAN COMMITTED SUICIDE AND LEFT THE FOLLOWING NOTE:

I married a widow with a grown daughter. My father fell in love with my step-daughter and married her--thus becoming my son-in-law, and my step-daughter became my mother because she was my father’s wife.

My wife gave birth to a son, who was, of course, my father’s brother-in-law, and also my uncle for he was the brother of my step-mother.

My father’s wife became the mother of a son, who was, of course, my brother, and also my grand-child for he was the son of my daughter. Accordingly, my wife was my grandmother because she was my mother’s mother--I was my wife’s husband and grandchild at the same time--and, as the husband of a person’s grandmother is his grandfather--I AM MY OWN GRANDFATHER!

Mark Twain.

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RICHEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED