Part 5

Quartz is composed of the two elements occurring the most abundantly in the earth's crust, silicon and oxygen, both non-metals. As already indicated, the most common representative of the mineral substance is the sand of the soil. The sand grains are generally so eroded by the atmosphere and surface waters as to show little of the true quartz structure. A typical specimen of quartz, commonly known as "rock crystal," clear, transparent and approximately perfect in form, is not difficult to obtain for study. If not occurring in the particular locality it may be obtained from a dealer in minerals at slight expense. As studied by means of the rock crystal, quartz is remarkable for its transparency, its regular crystal form, and its great degree of hardness. Its transparency is such that printing may be read through the crystal. Its crystalline form affords an unfailing means to the mineralogist of recognizing the substance as quartz. If our specimen be large and perfect, we note that it is bounded by planes in such manner that we have a hexagonal prism terminated at either end by a hexagonal pyramid. With convenient apparatus for measurement, we learn the all-important fact to the mineralogist, that the angle between any prism face and an adjacent pyramid face is 141° 47´. The mineralogist obtains his accurate measurements by means of an instrument known as the goniometer. We may obtain cruder results by bending a readily flexible wire over the two faces, perpendicular to the edge of their intersection, until it is tight against either face. Then placing one arm of the bent wire along the base of a protractor, the point of flexure at the center of the base, the number of degrees between the two arms may be read, thus giving roughly the angle between the prism and pyramid faces of the quartz crystal. The great hardness of quartz is apparent in that it cannot be scratched with the point of a knife and that it will cut glass. Often clear parts of quartz crystals occur studding the surface of a rock structure, in the form known as a crystal aggregate. One property of quartz rock (any sandstone or quartzite) we must not fail to notice is the irregular fracture. This is recognized in the statement that quartz has no cleavage.

The study of the rock crystal should not lead us into the false conclusion that quartz is commonly transparent. Instead it occurs in various shades and colors from smoky white through yellow, red, purple, and brown to black. The cause of the abundance of sand on the soil surface is also liable to misinterpretation. While sand is naturally of great abundance, yet its commonness at the surface of the soil is due largely to its great resistant powers to the agencies of weathering.

Quartz has an economic value directly in glass sand and of course as a soil constituent. In the latter capacity, it is taken up by many plants, and is the silica that studs the saw edges of the blades of sedges and grasses. The precious stones, agate, amethyst, and jasper are varieties of quartz.

The silicon that is so important a constituent of quartz, composes with aluminum a large part of various minerals comprised under the name feldspar. This substance is slightly less hard than quartz and has many variations in color; but, unlike quartz, shows regular cleavage faces. Feldspar is always crystalline, but good crystals are not common. It is very difficultly soluble, yet readily yields to the influence of weathering. A feldspathic rock hence readily crumbles. During the process of disintegration, the feldspar may change from a clear, hard, glassy mineral to a dull, opaque substance. This product of disintegration is our common white clay. With quartz, then, feldspar is of great importance in the forming of soil.

Allied to the feldspar group of minerals as regards cleavage, and yet of far different special characteristics is the class of substances known as mica. How many of us ever think of the so-called isinglass of our stove doors as a mineral substance? Yet transparent mica, muscovite, is the source of that household convenience. A study of the specimens of mica in our stove door will provide abundant ideas of the nature of mica. We have often noticed how, under the influence of excessive heat, the isinglass splits into thin sheets, thus showing the cleavage of the mineral. These plates of mica are of especial value in giving cleavage to rocks which would otherwise fracture irregularly. The cleavage of slates and of the common shale rocks is due to the presence of mica particles which have, at some period in the history of the earth's crust, through the action of heat and pressure, been arranged along definite planes. Isinglass represents the transparent variety of mica. Other varieties are brown and even black, owing to the presence of traces of potassium, magnesium, iron, etc., in varying degree. Some micas do not easily decay, and so we frequently see glittering particles among the fine grains of soil and the sands of beaches.

The minerals already mentioned, quartz, feldspar, and mica, are the components of a large part of our granites. In the case of the red Scotch granite, another silicate, hornblende, replaces the mica. Various silicates of economic value are asbestos, a variety of hornblende, and augite, which are silicates of magnesium and iron or calcium; and talc, which is a silicate of magnesium containing water. A great number of gems are found among the silicates, including tourmaline, garnet, topaz, beryl, and chrysolite.

THE DANGER FROM THE IMPORTATION OF ANIMALS.

An abstract of J. S. Palmer's essay on "The Danger of Introducing Noxious Animals and Birds" appears in _Our Animal Friends_. There are several societies in this country for the express purpose of purchasing and importing European birds. One society in Cincinnati has contributed $9,000 to this object, and other cities have raised considerable sums. Our contemporary thinks it would be well that all such experiments should be made under the sanction of government experts of the Department or Agriculture. In addition to voluntary importations, it often happens that animals are unintentionally brought into the country, as trading-vessels have carried the European house mouse all over the globe, and the introduction of rabbits into Australia is perhaps the most striking example of the dangers of unconsidered importations. They were introduced for purposes of sport, and were liberated near Melbourne in 1864. Within twelve years they had spread over the country and become a veritable plague, and millions of dollars have been spent for bounties, poisons, and other methods of destruction. Thousands of miles of rabbit-proof fences have been built, and in 1887 no less than 19,182,539 rabbits were destroyed in New South Wales alone, and the rabbits seem to be on the increase. The little Indian mongoose was imported into Jamaica to cope with a plague of rats and proved most effective, but after it had destroyed the rats it turned its attention to the domestic animals and poultry, so that the islanders would now be glad if they could get rid of the pests. Such are a few examples of the danger of disturbing nature's balance.

THE AMERICAN BISON.

A remarkable article recently appeared in the _Scientific American_, written by Prof. Chas. F. Holder, entitled, "A Crime of a Century," in which is described the extermination, the wiping out of the American bison.

"In 1870, and later," said an army officer, "the plains were alive with bison, and in crossing at places I had difficulty in avoiding them, so vast were the herds. If anyone had told me then that in twenty or thirty years they would have become almost entirely extinct I should have regarded the statement as that of an insane person."

We are able to corroborate this statement. In August, 1869, while crossing the Kansas plains in a stagecoach we had the privilege, as we regard it now, of seeing one of the largest herds of buffalo then remaining. When first seen, at a distance of from three to five miles, we could distinctly hear the roaring of the animals, who had been stampeded, perhaps by hunters, who were at that time wantonly destroying the grand creatures for their robes. That so many of these animals could have been killed in mere wantonness, says Prof. Holder, seems incredible when their vast numbers are realized. We first hear of the bison from Cortez and his followers in 1521. Montezuma had one in a zoölogical garden, the specimen, in all probability, having been caught in Coahuila. In 1530 Cabeza saw them in Texas, and in 1542 Coronado found a herd in what is now the Indian Territory, one of his officers describing them as horrible beasts that demoralized the horses. In 1612 Sir Samuel Argall observed herds of bison near the national capital, and, it is said, two hundred and eighty-seven years ago herds of bison grazed on the site of the capitol building at Washington. In 1678 Father Hennepin observed them in what is now northern Illinois, and in October, 1729, Col. W. Bird saw herds in North Carolina and Virginia. It is known, in fact, that the bison formerly ranged in millions from the Atlantic seaboard to the Gulf of Mexico, from Texas to the Great Slave Lake, and as far west as central Nevada. "As to their numbers, they were like the sands of the seashore, and the accounts given by those who hunted them twenty or thirty years ago to-day seem like vagaries of a disordered imagination." Colonel Dodge, in his memoirs, states that on one occasion he rode twenty-five miles in Arkansas, always being in a herd of buffaloes, or many small herds, with but a small separating strip between them. The animals paid but little attention to him, merely moving slowly out of the way or advancing, bringing the whole herd of thousands down on him with the roar of an avalanche. This he met by standing fast and firing when they came within short range, the shot causing them to divide. This he did as a protection, otherwise they would have run him down and crushed man, horses, and wagon. This herd was later found to be fifty miles wide and to occupy five days in passing a given point on its way north. It was estimated that the herd comprised half a million buffaloes. A train on the Kansas Pacific road in that state in 1868 passed between the towns of Ellsworth and Sheridan--one hundred and twenty miles--through a continuous herd of buffaloes. They were packed so that the earth was black, and more than once the train was stopped, the surging mass becoming a menace to human safety. This is the same herd first seen by us in August, 1869, and again in 1871 and 1872. An army officer relates that he was at that time on duty in the pay department, which made it necessary for him to travel on the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroad. One day the train entered a large herd, which scattered and seemed to go wild at the shrieking of the whistle and the ringing of the bell. As the train went on the thicker they became, until the very earth appeared to be a rolling mass of humps as far as the eye could see. Suddenly some of the animals nearest turned and charged; others fell in behind, and down upon the train they came like an avalanche. The engineer stopped the engine, let off steam and whistled to stop them, while the passengers fired from the platforms and windows with rifles and revolvers, but it was like trying to stay a tidal wave. On they came, the earth trembling, and plunged head down into the train. Some were wedged in between the cars, others beneath; and so great was the crush that they toppled three cars over and actually scrambled over them, one buffalo becoming bogged by having his legs caught in the window.

The question of interest to-day is how was it possible to destroy so many animals in so short a time and what methods were employed? Many were destroyed by stampeding over precipices. In 1867 two thousand buffaloes became entangled in the quicksands of the Platte river. At another time a herd was lost by breaking through the ice of Lac Qui Parle in Minnesota. The cold winters of the north killed many. But man was their greatest foe. He soon found that the buffaloes had a value. The Indians slaughtered them for their skins, bone and for food. The white man, however, killed for sport, for the hides and heads, and to provide the gangs of railroad men with meat. The animal at this time had a value estimated at $5, which was sufficient to attract an army of destroyers. One firm in New York between 1876 and 1884 paid for hides alone nearly $1,000,000. The government never interfered. The real extermination of the buffalo, in the opinion of Prof. Holder, was caused by the demands of trade, aided and abetted by sportsmen, Indians, and others; but the blame really lies with the government that in all these years permitted a few ignorant congressmen to block legislation in favor of the protection of the bison, so that all the efforts of humanitarians were defeated and the bills when passed pigeon holed.

The still hunter was the most insidious enemy of the buffalo, a single man, by sneaking upon a herd, having been known to kill one thousand in a single season. Capt. Jack Bridges, of Kansas, killed 1,142 buffaloes in six weeks. In the different states there were regular killing outfits that cost, in rifles, horses, carts, etc., from $2,000 to $5,000. Such methods developed some famous characters. Buffalo Bill (Col. W. F. Cody) was one. He contracted with the Kansas Pacific railroad to furnish them with all the buffalo the men could eat as the road was built; and, according to Mr. Cody's statement, they ate 4,280 buffaloes in eighteen months, for which he received $500 per month, "the price he paid for his title."

There were living at the last government census, made in 1891, 256 pure-blooded buffaloes in captivity, the last of the race.

A buffalo robe is now a scarce article and a well-preserved specimen brings a high price. Massive heads of old bull buffaloes are preserved in many museums and are valued at from $150 to $250.

Mark Twain once said that the most wonderful scene he had ever looked upon was an enormous herd of buffaloes in Colorado.

Mr. John D. Dunham, formerly United States land commissioner in Wyoming, and later connected with the Yellowstone Park commission, recently stated that there were between 120 and 140 buffaloes left in the United States last autumn, and the mortality among the surviving beasts was greater last winter than ever before during their captivity. Despite the severe penalty for killing the big animals in the National Park, a dozen or more buffaloes have been slain there every year. Last year a form of influenza destroyed some of them, and there are probably no more than fifty of the veterans of the plains left. Baker, in his "Wild Beasts and Their Ways," says: "The bison is a grand-looking creature, and in my opinion it is the most striking of all wild animals."

THE TURTLE DOVE.

GRANVILLE OSBORNE.

In and out the leafy shade Of the peaceful glen and glade, Where the brook goes rippling by, Through the cowslip meadow nigh; When the soft and odorous breeze Whispers gently 'mongst the trees, Lovingly, I hear them woo-- "_Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o._"

Bows and bridles proudly he, Coyly shy and modest she; Hither, yon, in ceaseless quest, 'Till they build a cozy nest; Full of watchful care is he, When there comes maternity; Never lover's song so true-- "_Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o._"

Now so proud he tabers low, To his loving mate below; Never lover so in love, As this billing, cooing dove. Back and forth he quickly flies With his generous supplies, Then he nods, "There, that will do-- _Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o._"

Beautiful, the little brood Blesses faithful motherhood, And the lessons they impart, Doves and nestlings, reach my heart. What the wisdom from the dove? That the best of life is "love." So I listen while they coo-- "_Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o._"

THE SORROWFUL TREE.

There is a tree in Paris to which the name "The Sorrowful Tree" is given. Perhaps because it blooms only in the evening.

When the first star appears in the heavens, the first bud of the Sorrowful Tree opens, and as the shades of night advance and the stars thickly stud the sky, the buds continue gradually opening until the whole tree looks like one immense white flower. On the approach of dawn, when the brilliancy of the stars gradually fades away in the light of day, the Sorrowful Tree closes its flowers, and ere the sun is fully risen not a single blossom is visible. A sheet of flower dust, as white as snow, covers the ground around the foot of the tree, which seems blighted and withered during the day, while, however, it is actively preparing for the next nocturnal festival. The fragrance of the blossom is like that of the evening primrose.

If the tree is cut down close to the roots a new plant shoots up and attains maturity in an incredibly short time.

In the vicinity of this singular tree there usually grows another, which is almost an exact counterpart of the Sorrowful Tree, but less beautiful, and, strange to say, it blooms only in the daytime.

MARKED WITH BLEEDING HEARTS.

In one of the cages at Lincoln Park are two pigeons or doves most peculiarly marked. They belong to the variety known as the "Bleeding Heart."

Their backs and wings are of a bluish slate color, while their breasts are white, save for a spot of vivid crimson in the center. This spot is precisely like the stain which would be produced by a wound. It is about an inch in length, and the color fades out at the edges softly in little streaks.

One can scarcely believe the little creatures are not victims of some cruel thrust, and the park employes say that lovesick people are wont to lean for hours on the railing opposite the cage, and, fixing their sad eyes on the birds, will moan in sympathy while they shed bitter tears.

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.

PROF. W. K. HIGLEY,

Secretary, Chicago Academy of Sciences.

Fair flower, that, lapt in lowly glade, Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade, Than whom the vernal gale None fairer wakes, on bank or spray Our England's lily, of the May, Our lily of the vale!

Of thy twin-leaves the embowered screen, Which wraps thee in thy shroud of green; Thy Eden-breathing smell; Thy arch'd and purple-vested stem, Whence pendant many a pearly gem, Displays a milk-white bell. --_Bishop Mant._

The lily of the valley is one of the most delicate and beautiful of the lily family (_Liliaceæ_). With the exception of the orchid family probably no group of plants furnishes a larger variety of popular forms noted alike for their beauty and delicacy.

It has been truly said of the lily family that "the flowers of most are beautiful, of many brilliant, and of some truly splendid." This family contains about one hundred and fifty genera and over thirteen hundred species. They are world-wide in their distribution, excepting the Arctic zone, though they are more common in the temperate and subtropical regions.

Among the species sought by the lover of cultivated flowers none is more noteworthy than the tulip, a native of Persia. It is claimed that there are more than seven hundred forms of the tulip known to the florist--all variations of a single species.

The type of the family is the lily. The lily is the Persian personification of night, _lil_ or _lilleh_ being essentially the words used to designate evening. It is the Indo-Iranian analogue of the rose, which in countries speaking the romance languages, as well as in China, stands for a symbol of secrecy and was planted over graves as an emblem of immortality.

To this family also belong the day-lily, the tuberose, the hyacinth, the yucca, and the star-of-Bethlehem. Here also is classed the useful though much-abused onion, the flowers of which, though small, form a most graceful group at the top of the stem, especially in the wild species.

Asparagus is usually placed in this family and many species, such as squills and the varieties of aloes, are highly valued in medicine. In fact it may be said that the family "abounds in a bitter, stimulant principle and also in mucilage." It is of interest that some of the species of this family were prized by the Greeks and Romans for their medicinal value. The name for aloes in both languages refers to the bitter principle, and no name could be more appropriate, as the extract is intensely bitter.

The lily of the valley (_Convallaria majalis, L._) is a native of the mountainous regions of Virginia and southward through Georgia. It is identical with the cultivated form which was brought from Europe.

The generic name _Convallaria_ from two Latin words meaning "with" and "valley," having reference to its habit of growing on mountain sides. This sweet-scented plant has an underground stem which sends up a stalk that bears, chiefly on one side, numerous nodding white flowers. The oblong leaves, usually two in number, rise from the base of the flower-stalk, which is sheathed by their stems.

The pure white of the flowers as well as their symmetrical form has led writers to speak of them as the symbol of purity, and no flower, perhaps, is in greater demand for the decoration of the church and home.

MUSHROOMS ON BENCHES.

RICHARD MAXWELL.

To the amateur grower mushrooms are ordinarily an uncertain quantity. This crop is as fickle and finicky as the proverbial old maid--although, for my part, I would far rather tackle the mushrooms.

The amateur mushroom grower, in the usual order of things, generally has "troubles of his own," troubles in which even the old expert shares at times, and often for a reason that is inexplicable, or for a cause that is not even apparent.

Some time ago I became interested in a rather novel scheme in 'room production: It is that of growing the 'rooms on top of the benches as one would his regular crops of lettuce, raddishes, etc., instead of under the benches and in cellars in especially prepared beds for that purpose. With this new method the 'rooms are grown at the same time as and among the usual crops. In view of the experience I feel justified in saying that a profitable crop of 'rooms may be grown with more certainty by this method than by the one ordinarily practiced. I am not aware of a single instance where a grower of ordinary intelligence has ever failed to secure a satisfactory crop in this way.

The soil used is much the same as the ordinary compost as generally put up by the average hothouse operator. In combination with the usual mixture of rotted sod and horse manure the addition of cow dung, at the ratio of about one to ten, may be advantageously made.

Should the cow dung be used it is best to have that which is at least one year old and in a fine, pulverized condition, being careful to have the cow dung well incorporated with the compost.