Part 3

The Department of Agriculture has recently issued a report on the plant products of the Philippine Islands, which is particularly interesting at the present time. The report deals with the agricultural resources of the islands as they now exist, and shows that although an agricultural country, the islands do not produce enough food for the consumption of the inhabitants. In order to supply the deficiency, it is the custom to draw upon rice-producing countries, such as Cochin China. About one-ninth of the area of the Philippine Islands, or 8,000,000 acres, is devoted to agriculture. When the natural fertility of the soil is considered and the large amount of rich land not yet cultivated, it can be assumed that with better agricultural methods the products of the islands could be increased tenfold. Rice forms one of the most important food products of the islands; more than a hundred varieties are grown; the annual production is about 36,000,000 bushels. This is, of course, far below the actual requirements of the population, even when supplemented by other vegetables and fruits. Maize, next to rice, is one of the most important of the grain products of the Philippines, and the sweet potato follows maize in turn. Fruits grow in great abundance, bananas heading the list. Large quantities of sugar cane are grown, but owing to crude methods of manufacture, the sugar is inferior in quality and is sold for a low price. Cotton is not as valuable a product for the islands as it once was, owing to the successful competition of British fabrics. Formerly indigo also was one of the important products of the islands. Coffee plantations thrive well, but the coffee is not of the best quality and the plantations are not well managed. In most of the islands of the archipelago tobacco is grown and over one hundred million cigars are annually exported from Manila. The shipment of leaf tobacco averages about 20,400,000 pounds. The islands also furnish spices and medicinal plants are abundant, but most of them are little known.

HONEY BIRDS.

There are in Africa, Australia, and in South America certain birds, evidently not related ornithologically, that, because of their peculiar habits, are known as "honey birds," the special traits of which afford an interesting study in animal reasoning or instinct, as one may choose.

One of these, the species common to a large area in Central and South Africa, mentioned by many travelers, has been briefly described by that prince of realists, Dr. James Johnston of Brownstown, Jamaica, in his superb work, "Reality vs. Romance in South Central Africa," on page 106. He says: "Our daily meeting with the honey birds served to remove any skepticism I may have had in reference to this cunning little creature. It is not much larger than a canary, and as soon as man makes his appearance hops from branch to branch, making repeated flights toward the traveler and then flying off in the direction in which it appears to wish attention attracted, with a sustained _chic-en, chic-en, chic-chur, chur_, returning again and again, until its opportunity is awarded by someone accepting its invitation to follow to the spot where is stored the--to it--inaccessible treasure. It makes a great fuss, flying round and round and round, leaving no doubt as to the whereabouts of its find. Sometimes there is no opening to be seen; when the native proceeds to tap upon the trunk with the head of his hatchet until he locates the hive. He then obtains the honey by making a fire at the root of the tree, and, under cover of the smoke, with his hatchet secures the prize. Then is revealed the reason for the excitement of our tiny guide, who now comes in for its share of the pickings."

Several explorers whose good fortunes have taken them well into the interior of the Australian bush have described the somewhat similar actions of a species of bird spoken of as being "nearly as large as a crow" and evidently quite distinct from the African species. In Haiti I have had opportunities of observing the like performances of a bird, shy and elusive for the most part and only at all approachable when the presence of honey renders it bold, which appeared to be closely related to our northern cedar bird. And, if an eye not specially trained in ornithology be not at fault, the same species is to be observed on the mainland, along the middle reaches of the Orinoco, in Venezuela.

October turned my maple's leaves to gold; The most are gone now; here and there one lingers; Soon these will slip from out the twig's weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.

--_T. B. Aldrich._

FARM-YARD FOWLS.

SILVER-SPANGLED HAMBURG.--These fowls are among the most highly developed of all the spangled varieties. They are valued as egg producers and rank among the best. They are very impatient of confinement and are said to succeed best when they can have the run of a clean pasture or common. A large grass walk is recommended by the most successful breeders. Six-foot fences, where they are intended to be restricted to certain limits, will not be more than sufficient for the safe custody of these chickens. The hens, if young, lay nearly throughout the year, but the eggs, which are white, are small, weighing about 1-1/2 ounces each. As they are such abundant layers they seldom want to sit. The chickens are healthy and strong requiring no unusual care. When first hatched they are cream-colored. They feather early and the barred character of the penciled birds quickly appears. In the rapidity of their movements they are said to rival even the active little Bantams.

It has been observed that both sexes of all the varieties continue to improve in appearance after each moult until they are 3 years old. Birds of 1 year old have never attained to their full beauty, this being especially apparent in the more ample development of the tail-feathers of the cock as he becomes older. At from five to six months old they are fit for table use, their meat white, tender, and well-flavored.

The Silver-Spangled Hamburg, or Silver Pheasant, as it is commonly called there, is a breed that has for generations been known in England. In Lancashire this variety had been brought to a very high standard of excellence years before poultry shows were thought of, and, as Wright observes, all our modern skill and careful breeding have been unable to improve upon the old breed of Mooneys, as they were called, which were absolutely perfect in point of feather. The spangling, so large, round, and rich in color, was really something to be wondered at and shows a skill and enthusiasm in breeding which has about it something of the marvelous.

PLYMOUTH ROCK HEN AND CHICKENS.--In March, 1873, Rev. H. H. Ramsdell thus describes the origin of this valued fowl:

"Some thirty years since John Giles, Esq., introduced a fowl into this vicinity--Putnam, Conn.--called the Black Java. Its plumage was black and glossy, its size large, pullets sometimes reaching 11 pounds in weight. It was an unusually hardy bird, with a dark, slate-colored, smooth leg and the bottom of the feet yellow. The hens proved good layers and of extra quality for the table. I sold a few of these birds to a Mr. Thayer of Pomfret, of whom Mr. George Clark of Woodstock, Conn., purchased some he supposed the same. Mr. Clark, passing Mr. Joseph Spaulding's yard one day, noticed his fine flock of Dominiques and proposed bringing a few of his Javas over to cross with them to increase the size. Mr. Spaulding accepted the offer, and when the chickens were grown rejected the black ones and those with double comb, reserving to breed from only the single-comb birds, which retained the Dominique color, or near it. One of the first products from the eggs of this cross was a hen which weighed 9-3/4 pounds. We soon had a fine flock of them. The fowls were spread around the neighborhood and were much sought after, but had as yet no name. A gentleman asked me what I called them. I said 'Plymouth Rock.' The name passed from one to another and they were soon generally known by that name."

The general characteristics of the cock are: Comb single, upright, and neatly arched, notched, or serrated; body large and deep; back broad and short; breast deep, broad, and full; thighs large and strong; size very large, ranging from nine to twelve pounds; general shape massive, but compact; carriage upright and commanding.

THE GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO RIVER IN ARIZONA.

PRIN. WM. I. MARSHALL, Lawndale School.

The Colorado River is pre-eminently "The River of Cañons." Formed in eastern Utah by the junction of the Green River, rising in northwest Wyoming, and the Grand, which has its sources in the mountain rim which walls in the Middle Park of the State of Colorado, not a mile of the Colorado River is in the state of Colorado.

About two-fifths of its nearly 2,000 miles, reckoning from the sources of the Green, which is the main stream, flows through cañons, the series culminating in magnitude and grandeur in the Grand Cañon of the Colorado in Arizona. In 1875, the Government Printing Office at Washington printed in a finely illustrated quarto volume of 291 pages, under the modest and unpretentious title of "Exploration of the Colorado River of the West and Its Tributaries, Explored in 1869, 1870, 1871, and 1872 Under the Direction of the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution," the fascinating and graphic story of one of the most perilous explorations ever undertaken by man, and one whose origin and successful outcome were due to the scientific enthusiasm, the great endurance, the fertility of resources and the dauntless courage of Maj. J. W. Powell. Few men with two arms would have dared to enter upon, or could successfully have completed the task, and he had left his good right arm on a battle-field of our civil war.

In 1882, the United States Geological Survey, of which Maj. Powell was then director, printed Vol. II of its Monographs, being the "Tertiary History of the Grand Cañon District, by Capt. C. E. Dutton, U.S.A.," a sumptuous quarto of 264 pages, with maps and splendid illustrations.

These two books are, and must ever remain the great authorities on "The River of Cañons," and I shall only write briefly of the route to and scenic splendors of the Grand Cañon.

It is accessible from various points along the Santa Fe Railway, but most easily at present by a stage ride of seventy-three miles, at an elevation above the sea varying from 6,866 to nearly 9,000 feet, from Flagstaff, Arizona--a beautifully situated mountain town at the southern base of the San Francisco Peaks, a cluster of volcanic mountains, the loftiest of which rises nearly 13,000 feet above the sea, and some 6,000 feet above Flagstaff.

At Flagstaff is the famous Lowell Astronomical Observatory, and about it are many points of much interest, especially Walnut Creek Cañon, with its extensive ruins of the cliff dwellers' houses built midway up the face of the almost vertical cliffs.

The first and last thirds of the stage ride to the Cañon are through the great Conconino Forest of long leaved pines--much scattered and with no underbrush--but commonly with splendid grass and unnumbered wild flowers covering all the open spaces between them.

The middle third is over a more desert region, but not destitute of grass, and with stunted pines and cedars growing on most of the ridges and hills along the way.

For the past two years there has been little rain and the route last July was much more dusty than when I went over it first in 1895, and deemed it one of the most enjoyable stage rides I had ever taken; but rains late in July made it much pleasanter when I returned in August, this year, for a third visit.

Along the whole seventy-three miles there is no lake, pond, river, creek, brook, rivulet, or rill, no running water except springs at two points many miles apart which have been piped into troughs for stock.

This absence of water over so wide an expanse seems at first wholly incompatible with the splendid forests of stately pines, with some aspens and scrubby oaks interspersed, and the luxuriant grass and innumerable flowers.

They are kept alive by the moisture of the heavy snows of winter, and the coolness of the nights in the warmer months, checking the evaporation, and by occasional rains in summer, mostly in July and August.

We are promised a branch railroad in the near future from the main line of the Santa Fe to the Cañon.

All previous observations of cañons fail utterly to give any adequate ideas of the immensity and the splendor of this, "the sublimest spectacle on earth." No narrow crack in the earth's crust is this cañon, but a vast chasm 217 miles long, from five to twelve miles wide and from 5,000 to 6,000 feet deep, with a great river rolling tumultuously along its bottom, miles away from us as the crow flies, and nearly a mile below us vertically.

As there are very few places where it is possible to climb down to the river, one might perish from thirst while wandering along the brink of this cañon, and having in plain view at many points one of the greatest rivers of the west coast of America.

It is the only cañon on earth vast enough to have scores of mountains within it.

It is a double cañon, _i. e._ a cañon within a cañon.

The outer cañon is from 2,000 to 3,000 feet deep, and from five to twelve miles wide.

Its general direction is east and west, but the mighty river, which in ancient geologic ages eroded this vast abyss, curved, like all rivers, now this way and now that, so that each wall is recessed in mighty amphitheaters, between which comparatively narrow promontories or points run out from one to six miles into the cañon.

From the base of the mighty palisade which forms the walls of the outer cañon stretches a plateau 5, 8, 10, or 12 miles wide, to the equally lofty palisade which forms the opposite wall of the outer cañon, and somewhere near the middle of this plateau is sunk the inner cañon, another 2,000 to 3,000 feet deep, with a width at the top varying from one-half to three-fourths of a mile, and in its somber depths rolls the ever turbid Colorado, ceaselessly at its endless labor of cutting down the mountains and sweeping their ruins to the sea.

Scattered all over this plateau are the remains of what were once long promontories like the points on which we now walk or ride far out towards the middle of the cañon, but which have weathered so that they are now lines of hills and mountains.

Real mountains many of them are, for from their bases on the plateau, 2,000 to 3,000 feet above the bottom of the inner cañon, they rise 1,500 to 2,500 feet, nearly or quite to the level of the tops of the cliffs bounding the outer cañon.

Nearly all the length of the cañon is through sandstones, and limestones, and shales, resplendent with the colors which add so much to the beauty of Rocky Mountain scenery.

The almost uniform horizontality of stratification of these rocks demonstrates that the erosion of the cañon was little aided or affected by any violent upheavals or disturbances of the rocks.

We see clearly about twenty-five miles each way along the cañon, and somewhat indistinctly probably another twenty-five or thirty miles each way, and everywhere is the same indescribable splendor of color and of beauty of form.

It is a new "Holy City," and whether viewed from above, by a ride or walk along the edge of the cañon, or from the multitudinous turns and loops of the trail by which one can descend on horseback to the plateau and ride across to the edge of the inner cañon, whence a path enables us to safely climb on foot down to the river's edge, everywhere we seem to be gazing on the ruins of cities, palaces, towers, and temples, such as might have been builded by the gnomes and genii of the "Arabian Nights."

Speaking of these weather-sculptured buttes or mountains of bare and splendidly colored rock which stand within the outer cañon, Dutton says:

"Some of these are gorgeous pagodas, sculptured in the usual fashion, and ending in sharp finials at the summit. Others are the cloister buttes with wing-walls and gables, panels and alcoves. All are quarried out upon a superlative scale of magnitude, and every one of them is a marvel. The great number and intricacy of these objects confuse the senses and do not permit the eye to rest. The mind wanders incessantly from one to another and cannot master the multitude of things crowded at once upon its attention. There are scores of these structures, any one of which, if it could be placed by itself upon some distant plain, would be regarded as one of the great wonders of the world," and of the colors he says:

"The color-effects are rich and wonderful. They are due to the inherent colors of the rocks, modified by the atmosphere. Like any other great series of strata in the Plateau Province, the carboniferous has its own range of characteristic colors, which might serve to distinguish it even if we had no other criterion. The summit strata are pale-gray, with a faint yellowish cast. Beneath them the cross-bedded sandstone appears, showing a mottled surface of pale-pinkish hue. Underneath this member are nearly 1,000 feet of the Lower Aubrey sandstones, displaying an intensely brilliant red, which is somewhat masked by the talus shot down from the gray, cherty limestones at the summit. Beneath the Lower Aubrey is the face of the Red Wall limestone, from 2,000 to 3,000 feet high. It has a strong red tone, but a very peculiar one. Most of the red strata of the west have the brownish or vermilion tones, but these are rather purplish-red, as if the pigment had been treated to a dash of blue. It is not quite certain that this may not arise in part from the intervention of the blue haze, and probably it is rendered more conspicuous by this cause; but, on the whole, the purplish cast seems to be inherent. This is the dominant color-mass of the cañon, for the expanse of rock surface displayed is more than half in the Red Wall group. It is less brilliant than the fiery-red of the Aubrey sandstones, but is still quite strong and rich. Beneath are the deep-browns of the lower carboniferous.

"The dark iron-black of the horn-blendic schists revealed in the lower gorge makes but little impression upon the boundless expanse of bright colors above."

OIL WELLS.

Oil is found in Pennsylvania in oil-bearing sand-rocks, which are considered as the reservoirs in which the distilled product has found a permanent lodgment. The depth of the oil-sand or sand-rock in this state is from 800 to 1,900 feet. There are often several strata, one above the other, containing oil.

It is the uniform experience that the lightest oils are found in the lowest sandstones, while the heaviest oils are drawn from the shallowest wells; and as we approach the surface where it is gathered from the pools dug to the depth of only a few feet, it becomes sticky, semi-fluid, and finally a solid asphalt.

Man made no attempt to bore a deep hole through soil and rock, hundreds of feet down, to reach oil, until the summer of 1859. The first oil company was formed in 1854, with Mr. George H. Bissell at its head, which bored the first oil well in the summer of 1859 under the direction of E. L. Drake. It was about the middle of June that "Uncle Billy Smith" and his two sons arrived in Titusville, on Oil Creek, Pa., the scene of operations.

"The pipe was successfully driven to the rock, thirty-six feet, and about the middle of August the drill was started. The drillers averaged about three feet a day, making slight 'indications' all the way down. Saturday afternoon, August 28, 1859, as Mr. Smith and his boys were about to quit for the day, the drill dropped into one of those crevices, common alike in oil and salt borings, a distance of about six inches, making a total depth of the whole well sixty-nine and one-half feet. They withdrew the tools, and all went home till Monday morning. On Sunday afternoon, however, 'Uncle Billy' went down to reconnoiter, and peering in he could see a fluid within eight or ten feet of the surface. He plugged one end of a bit of rain-water spout and let it down with a string, and drew it up filled with petroleum.

"That night the news reached the village, and Drake when he came down next morning bright and early found the old man and his boys proudly guarding the spot, with several barrels of petroleum standing about. The pump was at once adjusted, and the well commenced producing at the rate of about twenty-five barrels a day. The news spread like a prairie fire, and the village was wild with excitement. The country people round about came pouring in to see the wonderful well. Mr. Watson jumped on a horse and hurried straightway to secure a lease of the spring on the McClintock farm, near the mouth of the creek. Mr. Bissell, who had made arrangements to be informed of the result by telegraph, bought up all the Pennsylvania oil-stock it was possible to get hold of, and four days afterwards was at the well."

This memorable strike ushered in the petroleum era. It now only remained to develop this "bonanza." The condition of things on Oil Creek in 1865 is given as follows: "The surface of the whole country was saturated with oil from the leaking barrels, the overflow and enormous wastage from the wells before they could be got under control, and from the leakage and bursting of tanks. The peculiar odor of petroleum pervaded everything; the air for miles was fairly saturated with it; nothing else was thought of; nothing else was talked about. Land was sold at thousands of dollars per acre. Fortunes were made and lost in a day. Oil companies with high-sounding names were organized almost without number, absorbing millions of money; many companies were formed without the shadow of a basis for operations, and many persons who were as covetous as they were ignorant, were drawn into the maelstrom of speculative excitement and hopelessly ruined. No parallel in the history of speculation in this country can be found, excepting, perhaps, that which occurred during the 'California gold fever' of 1849."

The Pennsylvania oil region and the Russian oil region are the two greatest centers of petroleum in the world. The latter has its center at Baku, on the Caspian Sea. The following interesting state of affairs at Baku in 1872 is given by Major Marsh:

"The afternoon was devoted to the great natural wonders of Baku, petroleum and the everlasting fires. At Surakhani the whole country is saturated with petroleum; on making a hole in the ground the gas escapes, on lighting which it burns for a very long while, one of the few spots on earth where this phenomenon can be seen. When there is no wind the flame is dull and small, but in a gale it roars and leaps up eight or ten feet. There are two naphtha refining establishments at Surakhani, the furnaces of which are entirely heated by the natural gas, which is collected as it rises out of the ground in an iron tank and led off by pipes. At night the whole place is lighted in the same manner, by ordinary gas burners attached to the walls. On returning home in the evening we saw the silent waste, lit up by various fires, each surrounded by a group of wild Tartars cooking their food by its heat.