POPULAR MISCELLANY. 



«57 



Firing Pottery Kilns by Gas.— A new 



method of firing kilns by gas has been intro- 

 duced at one of the Trenton, New Jersey, 

 potteries by the use of which the expense of 

 baking the ware is greatly reduced. It is 

 dependent on the principle of preheating 

 the air before it enters the kiln, so that a 

 perfect combustion is secured, with no loss 

 of heat. Gas generated outside the build- 

 ing is forced through an underground flue to 

 the center of the kiln, whence it is carried 

 by branch channels to the several mouths 

 around the side of the kiln. There it is com- 

 bined with air, and combustion takes place. 

 The heated air then passes upward, and, in- 

 stead of escaping out of the chimney, it is 

 drawn down a well-hole through the center 

 of the kiln and passes down and around the 

 channel at the base of the kiln in the oppo- 

 site direction from that in which it entered, 

 and to near where it entered. After some 

 time the dampers are reversed, so that the 

 cold air enters the channel through which 

 the heated air from the kiln has been pass- 

 ing toward the chimney, and the heated air 

 escapes by the opposite passage. The cold 

 air is thus heated some 1,000 or 1,500 de- 

 grees by passing through the heated chan- 

 nel, with the saving of much heat that was 

 formerly wasted by passing immediately out 

 of the chimney. The dampers are reversed 

 every half hour, whereby the cold air is at 

 every turn passed through a freshly heated 

 chamber. 



Some Advantages of Wild Life. — The 



two great point3 of superiority of the native 

 or savage soldier over the representative of 

 civilized discipline, says Captain John G. 

 Bourke, in his An Apache Campaign in the 

 Sierra Madre, are his absolute knowledge 

 of the country and his perfect ability to take 

 care of himself at all times and under all 

 circumstances. Though the rays of the sun 

 pour down from the zenith, or the scorching 

 sirocco blow from the south, the Apache 

 scout trudges along as unconcerned as he 

 was when the cold rain or snow of winter 

 chilled his white comrade to the marrow. 

 He finds food, and pretty good food too, 

 where the Caucasian would starve. Know- 

 ing the habits of wild animals from his 

 earliest youth, he can catch turkeys, quail, 

 rabbits, doves, or field-mice, and perhaps 



a prairie dog or two, which will supply 

 him with meat. For some reason he can 

 not be induced to touch fish, and bacon or 

 any other product of the hog is eaten only 

 under duress ; but the flesh of a horse, mule, 

 or jackass, which has dropped exhausted on 

 the march and been left to die on the trail, 

 is a delicious morsel which the Apache epi- 

 cure seizes upon wherever possible. The 

 stunted oak, growing on the mountain flanks, 

 furnishes acorns; the Spanish-bayonet, a 

 fruit which, when roasted in the ashes of a 

 camp-fire, looks and tastes something like the 

 banana. The whole region of southern Ari- 

 zona and northern Mexico is matted with 

 varieties of the cactus, nearly every one of 

 which is called upon for its tribute of fruit 

 or seed. The broad leaves and stalks of the 

 century-plant — called mescal — are roasted 

 between hot stones, and the product is rich 

 in saccharine matter and extremely pleasant 

 to the taste. The wild potato and the bulb 

 of the tule are found in the damp mount- 

 ain meadows ; and the nest of the ground- 

 bee is raided remorselessly for its little store 

 of honey. Sunflower-seeds, when ground 

 fine, are rich and nutritious. Walnuts grow 

 in the deep ravines, and strawberries in fa- 

 vorable locations ; in the proper season these, 

 with the seeds of wild grasses and wild 

 pumpkins, the gum of the mesquite, or the 

 sweet, soft inner bark of the pine, play 

 their part in staving off the pangs of hunger. 

 The above are merely a few of the resources 

 of the Apache scout when separated from 

 the main command. "When his moccasins 

 give out on a long march over the sharp 

 rocks of the mountains or the cutting sands 

 of the plains, a few hours' rest see him 

 equipped with a new pair — his own handi- 

 work — and so with other portions of his 

 raiment. He is never without awl, needle, 

 thread, or sinew. Brought up from infancy 

 to the knowledge and use of arras of some 

 kind — at first the bow and arrow, and later 

 on the rifle — he is perfectly at home with 

 his weapons, and, knowing from past experi- 

 ence how important they are for his preser- 

 vation, takes much better care of them than 

 does the white soldier out of garrison. He 

 does not read the newspapers, but the great 

 book of nature is open to his perusal, and 

 has been drained of much knowledge which 

 his pale-faced brother would be glad to ac- 



