278* THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



A NATURAL PAPER MILL. 



By VIKGIL G. EATON. 



DIGGING OTit here in my back pasture lot, so I may find 

 water for my cows when next summer's drought comes on, 

 I have discovered one of the oldest paper mills in the world a 

 mill that was in good working order when Alexander went east 

 for other nations to subdue, and one which had whole quires and 

 reams in stock when men lived in caves and the human families 

 exchanged calls with the monkeys. The land here is drift clay, 

 which, mixed with sand and duly baked, makes fine building 

 brick, and which raises such fine timothy hay that the new tariff 

 does not bother me a mite. It is blue clay clear down for twenty 

 feet, when it strikes an old sea brush of dark gravel plentifully 

 filled in with clam, quahog, and scallop shells. Below this are 

 coarser gravel and bowlders, and then comes the ledge, a heat- 

 scorched, flinty clay slate that is almost crystallized in many 

 places. For several miles the land is as level as a house floor, 

 and here the rainfall hesitates so long about choosing a direction 

 in which to run that the larger part stays where it falls until the 

 warm sun licks it up to form more clouds to make more rain. 

 Then such portions of the land as are not covered with sward or 

 some form of vegetation crack open, and the millions of innocent 

 tadpoles perish from thirst before they know what fun it is to 

 wear legs and breathe atmosphere. Draining this land is out of 

 the question, because in order to do it I should have to dig a ditch 

 four miles across my neighbor's property before the water could 

 escape ; and while this might be a very praiseworthy act, it would 

 most surely take all the money I have, and my fellow-farmers 

 would reap the reward equally with myself. Wells are also im- 

 possible here, because the frost throws out the walls in two years ; 

 and as cattle can not drink out of an artesian-well pipe, I am 

 digging a small pond to hold the rainfall. 



The place I have selected is a gentle depression in the generally 

 level land. It is about ten rods in diameter and is walled around 

 by a natural clay embankment varying in height from two to five 

 feet. An opening in the wall lets the water in from one side, 

 while a miniature canon allows it to escape in the opposite di- 

 rection. Rushes, flags, and sedges stand knee deep in the waters 

 close to the shore, and a few lilies, with leaves like arrowheads, 

 dot the pool, which is otherwise given over to frogs, newts, and 

 aquatic insects. Into the bowels of this wizard's caldron I am 

 digging and scraping in hopes I may keep enough of the surface 

 water in store so that the suns of August shall not leave my pas- 

 ture dry. Working here, daubed with the muck and the clay 



