JULY 30 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
SOS 
UtisttUfttwons. 
FILTERING CISTERN. 
R. .T. DODGE. 
Odr bread and meat are no more important 
for our well-being than the liquids we drink. 
The outlay for food is so constant that pur¬ 
chasing all the variety of which our solid nu¬ 
triment is composed ha6 with us become a 
second nature, but when we see water upon 
every side, and are often injured by the too 
plentiful torrents from above, we fiud it diffi¬ 
cult to realize that there may at some time be 
a scarcity, and are not willing to bestow much 
labor in laying by a store of this luxury and 
necessity of every day and almost every hour. 
Experience, however, has taught us that, al¬ 
though the heavenly supply is generally boun¬ 
teous, its fall is so irregular that, in general, 
provision in time of plenty must be made 
for coming times of scarcity, and wells and 
cisterns were hence needed and constructed by 
the moBt ancient of our race. 
For many years my daily drink at Montclair, 
N. J., was rain water, fallen upon an ordinary 
tin roof, covered with some sort of metallic 
paint, said to contain no lead, and flowing into 
a large cemented brick cistern, whence it was 
pumped into the kitchen. This cistern dif¬ 
fered from the usual construction in this 
manner: across the bottom, about three feet 
nearer one side than the other, was excavated 
a trough or ditch about two feet wide and 
two feet deep; along the center of this depres¬ 
sion was bnilt a brick wall from the bottom up 
to the top of the cistern and having a few open¬ 
ings left through it at the very bottom. The 
whole cistern, bottom, sides and canal in¬ 
cluded, was then cemented as usual, excepting 
the division wall. Upon each side of the 
wall, at its base, from six inches to a foot 
of charcoal were laid, and covered with well 
washed stones to a further highl of six 
inches, merely to keep the charcoal from 
floating. The rain water passing from the roof 
into the larger division of the cistern, passes 
through the stone covering, the charcoal, 
the wall, the charcoal upon the other side, 
lastly the stones, aud is now ready for 
the pump placed in this smaller part. It is 
much better that the water at first pass into the 
larger division, as the filtration will be slower, 
and the cistern not so likely to overflow under 
a very heavy rainfall. I used this cistern 
for many years, and was troubled only once, 
when some toads made their entrance at the 
top, which was just at the surface of the 
ground, soon making their presence known 
by a decided change in the flavor of the water. 
If your house chances to be in a dusty situa¬ 
tion, several plans will suggest themselves 
whereby a few gallons at the first of each rain 
may be prevented from entering the cistern, 
but I employed no Buch means and never felt 
the need of any. Should the house be small, 
and therefore the supply of water from its 
roof be limited, do not lessen the size of the 
cistern, but rather increase it, for with one of 
less capacity some of the supply must occa¬ 
sionally be allowed to go to waste during a 
wet time, and you will suffer in a drought, 
whereas a cistern that never overflows is the 
more to be relied upon in a long season with¬ 
out rain. 
Rain-fall varies exceedingly in different 
places, and even in the same situation it is im¬ 
possible to foretell the amount to be expected 
during any short period of time, but the most 
careful observations show us that about four 
feet in depth descends at New York and vi¬ 
cinity every year, or nearly one inch a week. 
If this amount were to be furnished uniformly 
every week, the size of a cistern need only be 
sufficient to contain one week’s supply, but we 
often have periods of four weeks without re¬ 
ceiving the average of one, and we must build 
accordingly. 
The weekly average of one inch equals one 
cubic foot upon every 13 feet of surface, or 
3.6S0 cubic feet upon an acre, weighing about 
118 tons. Upon a roof 40 by 40 feet, 1,600 
Bquare feet, it would be 138 cubic feet, 1,03? 
gallons, or about 26 barrels of 40 gallons each. 
A cistern eight feet across and ten feet deep 
would contain 303 cubic feet; and one of 10 
feet across and 10 feet deep, 785 cubic feet 
or 6,120 gallons—about the average fall upon a 
roof of the above size for six weeks ; while the 
smaller cistern would hOid 3,000 gallons or a 
little less than four weeks’ rain-fall. The 
weekly supply of 1,037 gallons, is equal to 148 
gallons per day or nearly 15 gallons to each 
individual of a family of ten. This is certainly 
enough and more than enough, if used as it 
should be; but where water is plentilul it is 
wasted, and in our capricious climate, whether 
we depend upon wells or cisterns, it is wise to 
waste no water at all, at least during the warm 
Summer months, aud lay by not for a wet but 
a dry day. 
-♦ ♦ » 
Experience in Carp Raising. 
Last Summer I saw in a paper an article 
treating of the German carp, and for further 
information it said application should be made 
to Professor Baird, Fish Commissioner, Wash¬ 
ington, D. C- I applied to him for fish and got 
20 on November 19. In the mean while I had 
prepared a place for any I might get, by scoop¬ 
ing out a pond of about 30 rods in a depres¬ 
sion near a small creek, and dug a ditch from 
it to the creek, putting in four-inch tile to sup¬ 
ply the pond with water and placing a screen 
at each end of th e tile—one to prevent the in¬ 
gress of refuse matter and the other to keep 
out the fish. When the pond was “ full,” the 
deepest part was four feet. When the fish ar¬ 
rived they were from two to four inches long; 
the largest I have seen lately are about ten 
inches long, and all appear to be doing weil. 
I have been feeding them with hominy bought 
at the grocer's and have also given them some 
rice. From a large creek four miles away I 
brought a tubful of a soft of water weed and 
planted it around the margin of my pond, and 
I think the fish feed on it. Grass and various 
weeds are also growing in the shallow part of 
the pond. During the coming Fall I shall 
probably extend my pond so as to include two 
or three acres of hitherto nearly worthless land. 
Preble, Ohio. w. m. 
-♦ ♦ » 
BOOKS, CATALOGUES, ETC. 
Hand Book of Insect Collecting— W. P. 
Manton, Lee A Shepard.—This little book of 
32 pages is well adapted “ to furnish the be¬ 
ginner in the practical parts of entomology, 
with reliable information in a cheap form,” 
as its prefatory note suggests. It gives in¬ 
structions on the requisites for insect catching, 
how to prepare insects for the cabinet, time 
and places to hunt, etc., etc. 
®|f Ifiariait, 
MID-SUMMER BEE NOTES. 
The Strength of Colonies. 
In case of scanty pasturage for bees at this 
season of the year, there is great necessity for 
providing them with food in the hive. The 
feeding should be done regularly after sunset, 
and as they are more liable to be vicious when 
the fields fail to supply them with honey, the 
bees should be smoked sufficiently to keep 
them quiet; and then, as always, they should 
be disturbed as little as possible, The practice 
of feeding, either in Spring before flowers 
bloom or in the Summer intervals during the 
absence of the best honey-producing flowers, 
is a wise one, as it keeps the bees in good con¬ 
dition for the work before them. Cheap honey 
is recommended by some as a good food, but 
“ A ” sugar reduced to the consistency of honey, 
is quite as good. There Is but little to be said 
in favor of feeding grape-sugar aud glucose. 
The Moili Worm. 
Honey which is removed from the hive In 
hot weather is apt to be inhabited by the moth 
worm, which hatches from the eggs deposited 
in one way or another by the bee-moth. Just 
how, or when, this i6 done is not known, but it 
is not at all unlikely that the moth finds her 
way into the hive and there lays her eggs, 
though some say she deposits them on the bot¬ 
tom boards of the hive and then they are carried 
inside by adhering to the feet and legs of the 
bees. If the honey taken out is to be kept in 
boxes during the Summer, it should be closely 
watched and at the first appearance of a fine, 
whitish powder on the combs, it should be re¬ 
moved by fumigating with sulphur. It is 
well to smoke combs from which the honey 
has been extracted. 
Light and Dark Honey, 
It is important to keep the light-colored, as 
basswood or clover honey, separate from the 
dark-colored, such us buckwheat honey. The 
apiarist who expects to get good prices for his 
honey will be careful not to let these two kinds 
go to market in the same box. White honey, 
though it be but soiled with dark, will not 
command as good a price. However, nice 
buckwheat honey, though not commanding as 
large prices, is yet a source of much profit, in¬ 
asmuch as. in some sections, a good supply is 
obtained after the white honey plants have 
failed. 
\ emulation and Shade. 
Much attention should be given these subjects 
in hot weather especially. The brood nest 
needs to be well ventilated, but the boxes for 
wax-working should be closed. The hives 
should be protected from the intense heat of 
the sun during the heated term, though early 
and late in the season it is essential that the 
hives be exposed to the warm rays of the sun. 
Italianizing. 
August is a good month for Italianizing, as 
the queens can be obtained quite reasonably 
then, and good Italian workers will be ready 
for the next season. Every effort should uow 
be made to build up the colonies with young 
bees, even if feeding is required. Colonies 
thus well prepared will stand the Winter much 
better, j. w. d. 
fittrao Utisttllaitj. 
“DOG LOST.” 
Oh who has seen my doggy dear—he of the stubby 
tail- 
He of the soft and liquid eyes, and melancholy wail J 
No more I hear his gentle step, nor s ee his happy face 
When licking off his dinner-plate, or running on a 
race? 
He was as ugly aB they grow npon the Isle of Skye— 
And that’s what makes his loss so great, aud made 
his price so high ? 
8o tell me now, ” ye winged winds that round my 
pathway roar,” 
Will my dear doggy ne’er come back? Shall I ne'er 
see him more ? 
He was a brown and curly thing, who ran about the 
house. 
And up and down the stairs he'd go, as still as any 
mouse; 
I have never seen a dog so small, so horrible to see ! 
And will that darling, precious thing come never back 
to me? 
Oh, no! he’s gone ! My heart will break ! That terrier 
from Skye 
Has left me for some other home! The tears fall from 
my eye. 
Alas ! If I should search the world, I know it could 
not be, 
That I should tlnd another dog as ugly as was he. 
And so I mourn my doggy loet. Good people Join my 
wall: 
He was the dearest little dog that ever wagged a tail. 
He itjoa so ugly! Precious dear 1 So blest I cannot be 
As ever to possess a dog as ugly as was he 
(“ L'-r-r-r r-r-r-r, Ow, Ow, Ow /”) 
But stay I What’s that mellifluous sound that breaks 
upon my ear ? 
It is! Oh, can it then be true ! It is his voice I hear! 
And now, dull Time, bring all thy woes—I care not 
what they be— 
Since my delightful ugly pet has been restored to me. 
—St Nicholas. 
—-- 
THE MANOR HOUSE. 
Can I find a lodging m the neighborhood 7” 1 
asked, hoping the person questioned would offer 
to put tne tn his own cottage. 
“ Not within a dozen miles.” 
“ Could not you take me tn yourself ? Give me 
those two nice rooms over the porch.” 
How do you know of them ?” he asked, eyeing 
me suspiciously. " Anyhow, I can’t, and that's all 
to be said ” 
“ Well, how if I can get leave to live in the house 
Itself, would the family object? They never come 
down you say, and the place is to let. I might 
write and ask the Squire.” 
“There ain’t no Squire. It’s Miss Judith as owns 
the place, and you can’t write to her.” 
'•Then I’ll write to her lawyers, or the agent, 11 
you'll give me his address.” 
An artist, a landscape painter, who has come 
unexpectedly upon “good stuff," to use the cant 
phrase. Is not to be turned aside trom his purpose 
by small difficulties. While wandering through 
counties tn search of subjects for my brush, l 
had stumbled, quite by accident, upon Maxted 
Manor House, aud 1 was resolved to make the 
most of my discovery. The place was a paradise 
for a painter—an ancient and embattled mansion, 
lying half hidden In a wooded dell, but moat-en¬ 
circled and strongly entrenched with its stout 
sixteen-feet-thick walls. It stood four-square 
around an Inner court-yard, in which grew one or 
two fine old ewe trees. 
Guided by the caretaker, au Illiterate, Bomewlmt 
surly old man, who was also gardener, I had ex¬ 
plored all that was In view within the Manor 
House. From him I had extracted, as though they 
were his favorite back teeth, a few particulars 
about the place. No one had lived in It for years. 
Why? The Maxteda were free to do as they 
pleased, surely 7 Now It was to be sold ? “ No, 
not to be sold, Why should Miss J udlth part with 
the prop- rty ? There had been Maxteds before the 
flood, Well, why not 7 It would only depend upon 
which flood ; they had many floods m those parts. 
But Maxted could not be sold. It must go to some 
one of the same name—there were cousins always 
—11 Miss Judith didn’t marry; but that she was 
certain to do. A proper beauty she was—a pure 
Maxted. tail and iair and merry hearted, she la the 
living image or the picture over there,” and he 
pointed to a large portrait of a lady In white, 
long, flowing robes, her face partially concealed 
by a gracefully draped veil, which gave greater 
effect to a pair of brilliant brown eyes. I was 
constrained to admit that if the present owner 
of Maxted Manor resembled the original of that 
picture she must be the possessor of at least one 
beautiful feature. 
I had some difficulty in persuading the old gar- 
dener to give me the address of M13S Maxted’s 
agents; he would only tell me that they were to 
be heard of In Blueburgh, the county town. I 
found them out at length, at Blueburgh, but they 
positively refused to forward my request to occupy 
the Manor House. Miss Maxted did not seek a 
tenant, they said, and would not he pleased with 
them for suggesting the idea. I asked them 
whether I could not apply In person, and was told 
that Mis Maxted did not choose to be disturbed 
by business affairs, l waa not to be balked, how¬ 
ever, and betore I left the agents' office In Blue¬ 
burgh, I had ascertained the name or Miss Max- 
ted's lawyers in London. To them I wrote, reiter¬ 
ating my request, but giving no reasons; p resent- 
ly I received a civilly worded but very distinct 
refusal. Messrs. Burke and Bingham were In¬ 
structed to say that Miss Maxted had no desire to 
let the Manor House, and that my application 
could non be entertained. I made one last effort, 
I wrote to an old aunt, who was much In the great 
world, and who knew everybody In It worth know¬ 
ing. I asked her If she had ever met Miss Maxted, 
and if or whether she could further my views. She 
wrote hack to say that of course she knew Judith 
Maxted. The girl waa a near neighbor of hers In 
the country—an heiress and a beauty. Her fame 
was widespread; Bhe was a most charming girl 
“In fact,” said my aunt, “she would just do for 
you.” As my aunt had already proposed some 
flve-and-twenty girls as exactly cut out for me, I 
did not put much store by this, her latest sugges¬ 
tion. What waa more to the purpose was that 
my aunt had made a point of seeing Miss Maxted, 
and had made her aware of my wish to pay a long 
visit to the Manor House. Wbat followed I had 
better tell In my aunt’s words: “Miss Maxted 
shook Uer head very positively. ‘ He had better 
not think of It,' she said. ' If you take an tnterest 
in your nephew, you had better dissuade him from 
his project.’ I asked her to be more explicit. For 
a long time she hesitated and demurred. I asked 
her why she never lived in the house herself. * i 
oan’t,’ she answered, as I thought rather abrupt¬ 
ly. • That's nonsense,’ said I, thinking she had 
some stupid scruples as a young unmarried wom¬ 
an ; • you are at liberty to live anywhere you 
pleaBe.’ * I can’t live there, at any rate; they 
won't let me.’ 4 That's preposterous, ’ 1 went on, 
knowing she was quite independent, aud. having 
no relations, would certainly doc allow her agents 
or people to Interfere with her. «Who are they ?’ 
I asked. ' The ghosts,’ she replied, quite as cool¬ 
ly a8 though they had been the rheumatism or 
smoklngchlmneys. “ But after that, my dear Hen¬ 
ry,” wound up my aunt, “ of course you will give 
up the idea.” 
Yet I had not the slightest Intention of doing 
anything of the kind. If anything, this news 
made me all the more keen. My ourloslty was 
piqued, my interest doubly aroused. Should I, a 
full-grown man, who had seen and done most 
things, be frightened out or my purpose by a silly 
story of a ghost ? What If Maxted was reputed 
to he haunted ? The ghost would hardly interfere 
with my sketching; and, If I succeeded In this, 
my sole object in visiting the place, I should not 
mind a little nightly disturbance. So I wrote 
back to my aunt in these terms, and begged 
her to assure .Miss Maxted that all the ghosts In 
Christendom, or out of It, should not drive me 
from the Manor House if I had hut the fair owner’s 
permission to occupy It. 
I think Miss Maxted must have been piqued in 
her turn by her reply. She did not seem pleased 
that I should make light of her family ghosts; she 
did not say so In so many words ; but in finally 
yielding to my request, which she did with the 
best grace In the world, she accompanied her con¬ 
sent with one or two conditions which proved to 
me that she wished to make my tenantry as terri¬ 
ble as possible. She played, as it were, into the 
ghost’s hands, in the first place, she stipulated 
that I should live In the house by myself, her os¬ 
tensible excuse being that she did not like the no¬ 
tion of havlDg strange and unknown people about 
the place. She could rely upon me, an artist, to 
have a reverent care for the furniture and con¬ 
tents of the house, which, although ancient and 
worn, were still precious as heirlooms and from 
their associations. Therefore, she lert the house 
to me, and to me alone. Moreover, she hoped I 
should not want to bring any 3ervantB of my own. 
So far as my personal comfort was concerned, the 
the gardener and his wife would take every care 
Of me. I might not mind a Uttle roughing per¬ 
haps, but the old man had once been a page boy, 
and had some knowledge of valeting, and his wife 
was equal to cooklDg and caring for a single 
gentleman. If 1 agreed to these terms I might 
enter Into occupation at once. 
of course l agreed. I did not mind roughing It; 
that was all tn the way of business, and l had 
done tt a dozen times already In tar worse quarters 
than a snug eounlry house, and, Instead of 
a gardener and his wife, had often been 
contented to do without servants at all. 
Moreover, I seemed to see below these conditions 
a certain tone of Irony and chaff, and I was deter¬ 
mined that yiss Maxted 3hould not terrify me out 
of my purpose by insisting on my facing the name¬ 
less terrors of Maxted Manor House alone. 
Shall I confess honestly at once that I did not 
feel quite so courageous wnen I returned to the 
place? 
It was not without a certain sense of trepidation 
—that peculiar feeling of goosefleah which accom¬ 
panies a shiver of terror—that 1 crossed the hang¬ 
ing bridge over the moat, and passed under the 
old arched gateway. The gardener unlocked and 
then swung back with difficulty the heavy iron- 
studded oaken outer door; a second presented 
itself, and opened Into the central courtyard. 
High up on every side rose the straight, dark 
walls; wtndows were there In plenty, but all were 
closed with shutters, and reflected nought; above 
all, on one side, the tall belfry and clock-tower 
soared aloft, tui its pinnacle seemed loet in the 
clouds. A grim, unearthly silence reigned around, 
which was mocked and soon conquered by the 
sounds made by our clattering feet upon rhe pave¬ 
ment of the courtyard. My impulse up lo this 
point was to withdraw at once from my enter¬ 
prise and return without delay to Bluet • 
But now the old gardener had made good his 
entrance into the house. The moment e opened 
the door a flood of welcome light ” ashed out 
across the passage into the court. It came from 
one of the sitting rooms which had been prepared 
forme. The gardener's wife had kindled a blaz¬ 
ing Are on the hearth ; near It dinner was laid on 
a small oval table, and the are-light danced pleas¬ 
antly upon glass and cutlery and snowy cloth. 
Miss Maxted, as 1 afterwards heard, had leered 
that 1 should be made thoroughly comf ortable, 
and under these Instructions the best tabic linen 
and a portion of the family plate were brought out. 
From the kitchen, which was at no great distance, 
came a most savory smell, and assured me that at 
least I might count upon dining well. 
I threw myself Into a great high-backed chair 
before the Are. aud Immediately felt thoroughly 
at home. Meanwhile the gardener went to and 
