Part 2

Hallock says that the various species of ptarmigan are all Alpine birds, and are only found in the North and on the highest mountain ranges. They are to be distinguished from all other members of the grouse family by the dense feathering of the tarsus and toes, by turning white in winter and by the possession of only fourteen tail feathers. The bill is very stout and the tail always black. The length of the ptarmigan is about sixteen inches. It is a most delicious article of food, whether roasted, stewed, or in white soups. It is said that visitors to Newfoundland assert that the flavor of a plump partridge, well cooked, is unsurpassed in richness and delicacy. A brace of them in season weigh from three to three and a half pounds. On the first of September they are in prime condition, after feeding on the wild partridge berry and cranberry, their favorite food.

When on the wing it is said the scarlet tips over the eyes of the male bird glisten like rubies. The cock exposes himself fearlessly, when in danger, to save the lives of his offspring. He tumbles along the ground a few yards in advance of the dogs, rolling there in order to decoy the sportsman from the brood which the hen is anxiously calling into the thicket. No more touching instance of paternal affection could be witnessed, or more touching proof among the lower creation of self-sacrifice, prompted by love. The poor, feeble bird would almost attack dogs and men in his efforts to save his children.

At times, in some districts, the ptarmigan is so tame that it can be killed with a stick, and at others so wild that it will not allow the sportsman to approach within gun shot.

ANIMAL PETS IN SCHOOL.

A wise old man down in Boston says animal pets should be kept in public schools to teach children kindness to the weak. The jokesters are already at work deriding one of the best thoughts anybody has had about education for a long time because it seems, and possibly is, impracticable. They call it a reversal of the Mary's lamb doctrine, and suggest the propriety of letting the children throw paper wads to teach them accuracy and precision.

Despite both its doubtful practicability and the jester's little fling, Dr. Edward Everett Hale's proposition is not only founded on a right theory, but reflects the very way in which nature, says the _Chicago Journal_, first taught the great lesson of altruism and love.

Most of our scientists and some of our religious teachers nowadays believe that man ascended from the beasts. If he did, the first kindness, the first unselfishness, the first compassion for the helpless, and gentleness toward the weak, that were ever in the world, the first things that ever differentiated man from brute, were taught to the parents of the race in exactly the way Dr. Hale would have them taught to its children.

There never was any human love until there was human helplessness. There never was any mother-love or father-love until children began to be born that were feeble.

In some of the lower orders of life the young can take care of themselves as soon as they are born. There is no reason why anything should "care for" them, so nothing does. There is no affection for them nor from them nor among them.

Love was first excited by something that needed care and kindness. A couple of shaggy savages, animals that didn't know enough to love each other yet, felt something "akin to pity" for an ugly baby with a gorilla chin and no forehead, and resolved to do something not for themselves, but for the hideous infant, and not because they were proud of its prettiness and wanted to keep it for a plaything, but because it so obviously needed to have something done for it.

That, the scientists tell us, was the beginning of unselfishness, the beginning of care for others, the origin of affection and altruism, the genesis of humanity, the promise of the destiny of man. The baby was the animal pet that got into the schoolhouse with the children of the early world and taught the first lesson of love. On its mighty weakness hung most of those powerful and wonderful forces that have lifted brutehood into manhood.

Heredity does a great deal, but most of the lesson has to be taught over to every individual, and it is a more important one than geography or grammar. Humanity's happiness and further progress depend on the thoroughness with which it learns the lesson, not of arithmetic or spelling, but of altruism.

Children are cruel. But they have hereditary instincts of kindness for the weak that would develop the sooner into love for their fellows if they had something helpless to exercise them on. When a big, hulking, selfish boy begins to take a protecting interest in a little yellow dog he is unconsciously teaching himself the greatest lesson he can ever learn. Trotting around in that woolly hide, dodging stones, fleeing to him for protection from the poundman, getting lost, and kicked, starved, and hurt, is the beginning of the boy's unselfishness and the man's altruism, and it is not funny, but sad, that the schoolhouse door must shut it out so that the reluctant master may the better give his attention to the mysteries of commercial arithmetic and the art of skinning his fellow-man by means of "brokerage," "discount," and "compound interest."

Dr. Hale may never see animal pets in the schools, but he has been in the world a long time, and knows what humanity needs.

BAILEY'S DICTIONARY.

C. C. MARBLE.

This may be called the age of dictionary making. All philological scholarship seems to culminate in historic derivation. Without referring invidiously to cultivated foreign languages, each of which has many such monuments of elaborate, accurate, and patient research, it may be said with confidence that the English language is unrivaled in its lexicographers, who at the close of the nineteenth century have completed works which only a few decades ago were not thought of as possible. Dr. Johnson prepared his unabridged dictionary in seven years "with little assistance from the great," an achievement which at the time excited wonder and admiration, though insignificant indeed in comparison with present performances. And yet there may be some doubt about the comparatively greater usefulness to the general reader of the bulky volumes of the modern publishers. In illustration the reader might find an analysis of one of the oldest English dictionaries an interesting example.

For several years I have had at hand "An Universal Etymological English Dictionary and Interpreter of Hard Words," by N. Bailey, 1747. On almost all occasions when I have needed to consult a dictionary I have found it satisfactory, some of its learning, on account of its very quaintnesses and contemporaneous character, being better adapted to a particular definition than modern directness. Perhaps its greatest defect is the absence from it of scientific terms, of which, however, there were very few at that time.

The introduction is exceedingly learned and the causes of change in language are discussed with much ingenuity. Many examples of Saxon antiquities are given, one of which, the Lord's prayer, written about A. D. 900, by Alfred, Bishop of Durham, we may quote, from which "it doth appear," says Bailey, "that the English Saxon Language, of which the Normans despoiled us in great Part, had its beauties, was significant and emphatical, and preferable to what they imposed upon us." Here is the prayer:

"Our Father which art in Heavens, be hallowed thine name; come thine Kingdom; be thy will so as in Heavens and in Earth. Our Loaf supersubstantial give us to-day, and forgive us Debts our so we forgive Debts ours, and do not lead us into Temptation, but deliver us from Evil."

The introduction is in Latin. Greek, Hebrew, and Saxon characters are used in the definitions. Bailey defines the meanings of proverbs with far more particularity than is necessary, perhaps, and yet a small volume could be made up of these curious "common or old pithy sayings," as he defines them, many of which are obsolete or unknown to the readers of the present day. Instance:

"As sure as God's in Gloucestershire." This proverb is said to have its rise, on account that there were more rich and mitred abbeys in that than in any two shires of England beside; but some, from William of Malmsbury, refer it to the fruitfulness of it in religion, in that it is said to have returned the seed of the gospel with the increase of an hundred fold. And "Good wine needs no bush." This proverb intimates that virtue is valuable for itself, and that internal goodness stands in need of no external flourishes or ornaments; and so we say "A good face needs no band."

One other, a short one: "All goes down gutter lane." This is applied to those who spend all in drunkenness and gluttony, alluding to the Latin word gutter, which signifies the throat.

Not a few of these proverbs, with their explanations, occupy whole pages of the dictionary, and where they are traced to the Greeks or the Hebrews the original characters are brought into use as incontestable evidence of their authenticity. Definitions are numerous of words which, while perfectly legitimate and of Saxon origin and of common usage in the age of Elizabeth, are omitted at the present day from lexicons in deference to the prevalence of a more delicate taste.

The book contains about one thousand pages, is printed in a style little dissimilar to present unabridged dictionaries, and must have been of prodigious assistance to the author's successors. He does not deprecate the labors of his predecessors, whom he acknowledges to have saved him much trouble, but he claims to have omitted their redundancies in order to make room to supply their deficiencies to the extent of several thousand words, "in no English dictionary before extant," and that he is the first who attempted an etymological part.

This very important contribution to English literature--far more important then than any similar performance could be now--is, strange to say, nowhere mentioned in what is regarded as the best history of English literature. And just here the remark might be appropriately made that omissions of this kind in standard literary histories and cyclopædias go far to call in question the qualifications of the editors. A word may be overlooked or forgotten, but a scholar who has contributed substantially to the growth and enrichment of a great language deserves a better fate.

STELLER'S JAY.

(_Cyanocitta stelleri._)

The jay is a jovial bird--Heigh-ho! He chatters all day In a frolicsome way With the murmuring breezes that blow--Heigh-ho!

Hear him noisily call From the redwood tree tall To his mate in the opposite tree--Heigh-ho! Saying, "How do you do?" As his topknot of blue Is raised as polite as can be--Heigh-ho!

Oh, impudent jay, With your plumage so gay, And your manners so jaunty and free--Heigh-ho! How little you guessed, When you robbed the wren's nest, That any stray fellow would see--Heigh-ho!

This is an abundant and interesting cousin of the bluejay and is found along the Pacific coast from northern California northward. It is a very common resident of Oregon, is noisy, bold, and dashing. The nest of this bird is built in firs and other trees and in bushes, ten to twenty feet from the ground. It is bulky and made of large sticks and twigs, generally put together with mud, and lined with fine, dry grasses and hair. The eggs are three to five, pale green or bluish green, speckled with olive-brown, with an average size of 1.28×.85. There seems no doubt that many jays have been observed robbing nests of other birds, but thousands have been seen that were not so engaged. It has been shown that animal matter comprises only about twenty-five per cent. of the bird's diet.

LINEN FABRICS.

W. E. WATT, A. M.

We had just taken that delightful ride down the rapids of the St. Lawrence, and experienced the thrill of mingled pleasure and fear which everyone has at the moment when the vessel is dashing at a furious rate directly towards a great rock, and we were sure that someone had made a mistake for once, and no power could save us from being dashed in pieces, when a sudden whirling current of the stream picked the ship out of the way of the rock and carried her safely through the boiling foam into a place of comparative safety.

As we stood among the seagoing shipping of the port of Montreal we could easily understand why there should be such a great city there. We took but little stock in what had been said of the great business enterprise of the early settlers of that town and how they built up the place till it became a great seaport and an important commercial center. No doubt they were able and enterprising men, but Montreal was made by nature the greatest and most important seaport of Canada by the peaceful deep river and its formidable rapids. Since no ships can sail up those rapids the boats that came from Europe and all over the earth were obliged to tie up there and discharge their cargoes.

Wherever there is a ledge of rock to stop the coming up of vessels from the sea there is always an important town to receive what those ships bring and to distribute it over the country round about.

We went aboard a ship that had just come in from France loaded with cases of wines. As the wines were being carried ashore at some of the gangways loads of something else were being brought aboard at others. This stuff was done up in sacks longer than a man and very heavy. It took several men to handle a sack. They were so careless about it that we wondered that they did not fear breaking the contents of the sacks. Then we wondered more what sort of stuff could be shipped to Europe in such sacks and in such great quantities. We inquired; and it took some little time to make the inquiry, for the men who did the work spoke something that sounded like French, but our school French did not suit them. We could find no one at hand who spoke English. We learned that the sacks contained oilcake.

Linen has been woven since records of what man has done have been kept. Some historians claim that cotton is the oldest fabric, and give instances of old records of its use in India and China. Others claim woolen goods to be the oldest, and yet others claim the honor for linen. Whoever looks into the matter extensively will be inclined to give the credit to whichever fabric he studies most, but it is likely that the figleaf will be credited with the greatest age as a fabric by most people.

The seed of flax is ground fine, either roasted or raw, and placed under heavy hydraulic pressure. This brings out the oil, which is a very important article called linseed oil. The cake is valuable for feeding cattle and the oil is used in all kinds of painting where the painted surface has to stand against the weather. Most of the flax raised in America is cultivated for the seed mainly. In Ohio three pecks of seed are sown to the acre and from six to twelve bushels are harvested. There is also a ton or two of straw to the acre, which is used at the rope-walks and paper-mills. Linen paper is peculiarly valuable.

The mummies of Egypt were swathed in linen, and much of this cloth is now in an excellent state of preservation although at least four thousand years have sped since its manufacture. While Joseph was in bondage cloth was woven which is still in existence.

There was once some question as to whether certain mummy cloth was of cotton or linen. But that has been definitely settled by the use of powerful lenses. The microscope shows that a fiber of cotton is flat and curly like a ribbon somewhat crinkled, and, like a fine ribbon, has a beautiful border which differs from the rest of the fiber. A fiber of flax has a glassy luster and is not flat like cotton, but rather like an extremely fine bamboo rod, cylindrical and jointed. When these facts were learned regarding the two fibers the cloth under suspicion was placed under the glass and showed unmistakably that it was round, transparent, and jointed. So there could no longer be any doubt that the ancient coverings of the dead in Egypt were all of linen with no mixture of cotton even when cotton was well-known.

The dead could not be buried in cerements of wool because there was a strict law against it, the wool being supposed to invite worms. The remarkable preservation of the cloth is largely due to the fact that it was well smeared with wax and asphaltum. But the fibers of flax resist decay to such an extent that in the ordinary process of preparing flax for spinning it is moistened and left exposed to such an extent that if it were as easy to decay as cotton it would become rotten before the time for spinning.

The earliest records of the business of preparing this useful fabric are those of the Egyptians as cut in stone on their ancient monuments. In their hieroglyphics and illustrations they have left us a complete representation of all their arts, and the processes of gathering flax, rotting off the bark and coatings of the fibers, cleaning the material by striking with clubs or whipping it against stones, straightening the fibers, twisting them into threads, and weaving cloth, are all beautifully pictured and described.

When William the Conqueror invaded England his wife Matilda made a record of the principal events of his life by embroidering upon a linen strip twenty inches wide and two hundred and fourteen feet long figures of the men, boats, animals, weapons, and other interesting objects, using woolen thread and depicting all with great clearness and accuracy. The Bishop of Odo assisted her husband at the battle of Hastings, and in remembrance of his kindness Matilda presented the work to the cathedral of Bayeaux. It is now preserved in the public library of that city.

Two hundred years ago there were spinning schools in Germany. The teacher sat with a wand in her hand and tapped the children near her when they lapsed into idleness, and when she noticed any of those at some distance from her not at work she rang a little bell for an attendant to enter and take the offenders out of the room for the purpose of punishment.

The old Dutch settlers in New York made what was called linsey-woolsey. This was a sort of cloth made with linen warp filled in with woolen woof. It was better than all-wool goods because it held its shape better and was stronger. This material was much worn by the early inhabitants of America, Abraham Lincoln being one of those who were well-satisfied with home-made garments of this fabric. Irving, in his "Knickerbocker's History of New York," claimed that some of the Dutchmen whose names ended in broeck were so-called because of some peculiarity pertaining to their breeches. For instance, Tenbroeck took his name from the rare distinction of his possessing and wearing at the same time ten pairs of linsey-woolsey breeches.

When people began to show their prosperity by purchasing cloth made up more beautifully than the product of the homestead loom they had to endure the remarks of others who affected to despise the man who was so extravagant as to care to dress in "store cloth." So recent is the use of this old-fashioned material that we find in one of Louisa Alcott's essays to girls the statement that "Modesty is as sweet in linsey-woolsey as in linen."

The greatest country in the world for the production of linen of the best quality is Ireland. Flax there reaches a height often exceeding two feet and the soil and climate seem to be the very best for maturing the fiber and manipulating it when gathered. In traveling through the country I saw a great deal of what at first glance seemed to be some sort of grain lying on the ground spoiling in the rain. I soon realized that this was flax and that it was left out on the ground purposely to give the pulp and bark a chance to rot away from the fiber.

Dew-retting is letting the flax lie in the heavy dews of Ireland till the work is done. Soil on which flax is raised is rapidly made poor unless the richness that is taken from it in the flax is restored to it in some way. Most of this richness is in the seed and the part of the stalk that is removed in the retting. Where this gets back to the soil there is little else to be added. Sometimes the flax is retted in small pools and the water saved to put upon the ground, though the flax is more discolored by this process than where the work is done in running water. Recently steam heat and vapor have been used to soften the stalks, and then the air pump draws the pulp away from the fiber, so that what once took several weeks to do is now done in a few hours. By the old process the fiber was sometimes left stacked dry for years with constant improvement in quality.

The Irish people, who are so proud of their island, point with additional pride to what some of their linen towns have done. As we were riding past the little village of Bessbrook a clergyman took pains to point out to us the evidences of thrift. He said that town lacked three p's that are very troublesome to other towns all over the world. They were the pawnshop, the public house, and the police. The good character of the people made these entirely unnecessary for their town. But these good qualities are not universal there, for in some of the larger places intemperance is remarkably bad.

We saw the work in all its stages at Belfast. Queen Victoria gets her table linen from that city, and we saw several pieces in the loom that had the royal arms upon them. To get the finest fabric the fiber is kept moist in both spinning and weaving. Nothing can be more beautiful than the silky, transparent stuffs made there. Dry spinning is done where a coarse and heavy grade of goods is desired. American visitors in Ireland, especially the gentlemen, plan to bring home as large a quantity of linen collars, cuffs, and handkerchiefs as the customs officers will allow to pass at New York free of duty.

The finest linen goods are called lawns, and this name is a modification of the French word _linon_, which sounds much like lawn when spoken properly. The French make many fine articles from all sorts of fibers, and seem to have recovered from the blow to their industries which came on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Some writers claim that nearly half a million skilled workers in fabrics left that country in the years around 1688.

While the battle of Waterloo was raging near Brussels and the people of rank were so strongly affected by the thunder of the guns of all Europe there were thousands of women, young and old, in that city and within hearing of the great contest who kept right on with their work, making laces. They knew somebody would win the day, and there would be a market for all sorts of finery, and the linen laces of Belgium were of much importance to society. There are many kinds of laces made in Brussels, but the kind you most see as you pass along the streets is that being made on little cushions by women sitting before their shops and houses with one eye upon their work and the other on those who are passing, hoping to get an American to pay a large price for something that he thinks he has seen made. It is not an unheard-of thing for an American to buy of one of these attractive lace-makers lace that came from the machines of Nottingham, England, for machine-made lace is much cheaper than that made by hand.