Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 5, Number 11, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 14 June 1883 — Page 6

Our Young Readers. - AN OLD PROVERB. Pouting, my darling, because It rains," And flowers droop, and the rain Is falling, And drops are blurring the window panes, And a moaning wind through the lane Is callingl Crrlng, and wishing the sky was clear, And roses again on the lattice twining I Ah, well, remember, mg foolish dear, “ Tit easy to laugh when the sun la shining I" When the world Is bright and fair and gag, / ' And glad birds sing in the fair June weather, And summer Is gathering, night and dag, Her golden chalice of sweets together, When blue seas answer the skg above, And bright stars follow the dag's declining, Why, then, 'tis no merit to smile, my lore: “ 'Tis easy to laugh when the sun Is shining I” But lA's Is the time the heart to test, When Winter Is near, and storms are howling, And the earth from under her frozen vest Looks up at tho sadAkg, mute and scowling; The brave little spirit should rise to meet The season's gloom anil the day’s repining; And Oils Is the time to b*glad; for, sweet, “ 'Tis easy to laugh when the sun Is shining I" —Wide Awake. PREPARING FOR FUTURE GREATNESS. After the lessons for the next day had been prepared, Olivia said to her five pupils, as they were putting away their books: “I know a boy who is getting ready to be great.” •‘A boy who is getting ready to be great!" echoed Harry and Robert. "Yes,” returned Olivia. He probably would be surprised if any one told bim; but he is fast preparing himself to be distinguished.” "Who is heP” “What’s his nanie?” And "Where does he live?” questioned the boys. “Can’t you guessP” returned Olivia. "He goes to your school; he lives not iar away, and you see him every day." Robert wonefered if he could bo the one to whom his sister alluded. He had done so well for the past few weeks; he had proved all his examples without grumbling; he was head in grammar class, and he was cultivating mental and moral power in various ways. Perhaps his sister did mean him. "What does a fellow have to do when he gets ready to be great?” asked Newell. "Tell us that, Cousin 'Livia, then perhaps we can guess." “I didn’t know boys were ever great," saidHariy.” “Greatness does not come suddenly,” returned the young girl. “The world does not often see it till it is in blossom; but it is a long while in growing; so long that one who wishes to be noted among men must lay the foundation for greatness when young. This boy’s superiority may not be acknowledged in thirty or forty years, but that his name will be distinguished some day I firmly •believe.” “So it takes greatness thirty or forty years to grow?” said Harry, in some surpris- 1 . “Yes, all of that—a life-time. Yet it comes like a tree, from very small seeds. What peculiar’ quality do we see in all great men—in Washington, in Lincoln, in Garfield, in Humboldt, and in Columbus, Luther, Newton, and hosts of othersP” “Genius,” answered Newell. “Vim,” cried Robert, proud of the friendly relations he was forming with this quality. “Genius,” said Olivia, “didnotmake them famous. Thousands of boys have genius, but they never amount to anything because—” • “Because they haven’t vim,” 55 claimed Robert. / “Yes,” smiled his sister, “hedause (they haven’t vim. But what is the root of vim—the moral root-, I mean, not the Latin one.”

“I should think a good strong will might be,” said Newell. “Yes,” said Olivia, “all these men had good strong wills, and, what is ;more to the purpose,' the will of each ■was well trained. They were what we call self-reliant. Self-reliance means ; more than dependence upon yourself; it ,means trust in God first, and faith in yourself next. Do you suppose Columbus asKed any one to do his thinking ior him?” “We know he didn’t,” responded Barry. And Robert said, stoutly: •“No, sir-e-e; he did his own thinking.” “And so did George Washington and James Garfield ana Newton and Luther,” said Newell.” “ Then you know a boy who does his own thinking, ’Livla?” spoke up Laura, -who all this time had been thinking and listening. Olivia smiled and nodded her head. "And 1 suppose he always knows his lessons,” ventured Robert. His sister nodded again. “And he goes to our school?” mnsed Hettie, who before this had not uttered sword. “It must be Tommy Davison!” “Tommy! Tommy Davison!” they all shouted. “No-o,” said Robert, Incredulously; but'Olivia nodded her head and said, quietly: " He is the boy.” “But he isn’t any smarter than we •are,” protested Newell. "Not a bit,” returned Olivia. " But yon said—” “ I said he was getting ready to be •great.” There was a little silence—a heavy silence. It was broken by Newell, who :ssked: “Do yon suppose he does his •own thinking?” "I know he does,” was the young lady’s reply. “Why—how do you know, Olivia?” “He would not join our preparatory class, though I asked him to, and told him that it should cost him nothing; so •It wasn’t his poverty that kept him from morning. It was his self-reliance. Isaw

him to-day and asked him how he was getting on. I had a little talk with him, and am astonished at the sensible books he reads. Just think of a boy of twelve reading Carlyle's • French Revolution,’ and liking ft, tool Why, it is a work for a man! And he studies up Carlyle’s chapters from other books as be goes along—from histories and biographies; he finds these in the public library or in the pastor's encyclopedia. He is a prodigy," said Olivia, warmly, " and a good hoy, too; and that is why I know he is getting ready to be great'’ “ But dill he tell you he got his lessons out himself P” asked Robert. "Not exactly; but I asked if a certain problem did not discourage him, and he said: ‘I did not stop to think of getting discouraged. I only kept at it. It took me three Saturdays to do it, but I got it.’ I told him I should have been happy to help him, but he answered, laughing, that ‘ he didn’t need any help with that problem now,’ and thanked me. He says all the others have been easy since, and we know why, don’t we, boys?” —Royal Road.

A Wonderful YaiL Don’t ask me if little Sunshine was pretty, because I don’t know—nobody ever did know; and this was the reason why, she had a very wonderful vail, and whenever anybody spoke to her, or even looked at her, she would draw it over her face, and you could not tell whether her eyes were blue or brown, or whether her skin was fair or dark; you only knew this wonderful vail made you think of sunshine and flowers, and all the pleasant things in the world. And, strange as it may seem, it al? ways put everybody into a good humor just to look at it. No matter how angry or quarrelsome her companions might be, they would generally break into a merry laugh as soon as it showed itself. As for her own face, a frown had no chance at all. This pretty vail would chase it away before it had time to pucker up a single wrinkle. Sometimes when anything happened that she did not like, lor a moment she would look downcast, like any other little girl that had been disappointed, but soon the vail would fall, and she would be her own sweet sunny self again, saying in the brightest way: “ Well, it don't matter; something else will do just as well.” She had a doll once, which had been given her by her Aunt May, and she loved it very much. It was a doll with the prettiest baby hands and feet ever seen. Now Sunshine was a right careful little girl, and though she had played with it ever since Christmas, it was almost as good as new. But one day her little cousin, in their play, insisted upon exchanging dolls, and very soon broke off one of the dear little feet. The tears would come at first, and it was a very sorrowful little girl that carried her lame darling to mother for sympathy; but almost before the mother could say a word of encouragement the sunny vail was in its Elace, and Sunshine, smiling through er tears, said.

“Oh, well! mamma, it won’t matter nluch, will it? ’cause you know you can stuff the stocking with cotton, and when the shoe is on it won’t show a bit. Besides, I can play she’s got a ‘sick foot’ like my little friend Lizzy Lore.” But when, before the day was over, the beloved doll fell on the pavement, and broke the beautiful head all to pieces, it well-nigh broke little Sunshine s heart, and she could but sob her griefs out, for her ruined doll, in her mother’s lap. But, again, the vail conquered; and, ever looking for the bright side, she said, quite cheerily: “ Well, anyhow, I can play with my little old doll, and I won’t be so afraid of breaking that; and we can play poor ‘Bella’ had the croup and died; and we can have a funeral—can’t we, mamma?” Can you, little boys and girls, guesr what little Sunshine’s vail was, or shall 1 tell you? It was the sweet smile that came from her—always looking for a bright side to everything, and keeping in a good humor, no matter what happened.— 4 nnie S. Wilson, in S. 8. Times. —Northampton has been the chief seat of English shoe-making ever since the days of Magna Charta John, who was himself shod there, as an ancient record shows. The spirit of the redoubtable Barons still bears fruit in the radical politics of Hie place, which today sends Labouchere and Bradlaugh to Parliament, and which, when Cromwell’s army marched through it, furnished the soldiers with twenty thousand pairs of shoes. More than thirty thousand persons are now employed there in the shoe trade. —Lady Wilde writes that women in Boston are intense.and transcendental; in Philadelphia they cultivate literature, poetry and art; in Washington every young lady looks forward to being elected to the English peerage; but that New York is the paradise of women, where men toil to cover their wives with diamonds.— N. T. Graphic. —Philadelphia has a “fountain society,” the object of which is to establish fountains throughout the city where man and beast can be supplied with water. It is a temperance organization under another name, and controlled by good sent a.—Philadelphia Press. —The youngest telegraph operator in the world is probably a little girl ten years old, Hallie Hutchinson by name, who lives in Texas, and has obarge of the telegraph office at the railway station at which she resides.— Chicago Herald.

Temperance. WHAT THE ECHO SAID. A toper once returning from potations, Imbibed with freedom at the Dog and Gun— Where jovial comrades on the laws of nations Allowed their thirsts tongues to glibly run— Was passing through a valley where ’twas said. Though he had never put It to the test, That Echo answered whene’er questioned. Quoth he: “ I’ll see whether ’tis truth or jegt.” He paused a moment, hiccoughed, scratched his head, His trembling angers passed across hls •vest To feel that he was there and not In bed, And then and there the Echo thus addressed : “The place we left, say Echo, dost thou know?" Echo—” No.” “ The public-house where folks like thee don’t go.” Echo— ’• Don’t go.” “ Tis after ten, my mates still at their glasses." Echo—“ Asses I” “ The drink they love before all else Is wine." Echo—” Swine I” “ Good liquor I enjoy in any shape." Echo—“ Ape I" “ I wonder what’s the end of all this brewing." Echo—" Ruin.” .“ Would’st have me take the pledge, all drink resign?” Echo—” Sign I” “Methlnks I could not live without such stuff.” Echo—” Such stuff!” “ You may be right, at any rate I’ll try It.” Echo—“ Try ltl” He signed the pledge, and very soon he found That, like the eagle, he’d renewed hls youth; He keeps It still, and furthermore has owned That what the Echo said was but the truth. —Good Templar's Watchword. BILLY MYERS’ MARE. A Little Story with a Little Moral In It. Not many months ago I was in tbe cars—our “Panhandle’’ cars, which at once suggest comfort to the traveler — and was interesting myself in observing my fellow-travelers. It is an old habit of mine to seek entertainment of such as may be so fortunate or unfortunate as tirtravel with me. I keep wondering who this is, and who that is, and what they are here for. Sometimes the answers inferred Are not very pleasant. For instance, on that very road I saw a woman and four children. They were very still, and I wondered what was the matter. At a little station they left the car, and there stood a little group of people to meet them. In an Instant all were weeping. I wondered why. Our cars moved on, and then the reason was revealed in the box that had just been lifted from the baggage-car,‘containing someone’s coffin. L said to myself: “No doubt it contains the mortal remains of the husband and the father.” But it was not of them or of him they were mourning I meant to write. There is a class of men who ride on every train at the West, of their own sort, enterprising, jolly, and free in speech and manner. Among them are some of the smartest fellows, and for them I predict fortune. They encounter peculiar dangers from their roving kind of life, and not the smallest of these is from tippling. It is very easy to imagine that the water is bad. or to feel “damp,” dr exposed to some disease, or that one is tired, and that a little whisky will bq good. I notice also that many young men “make a mock” of my fears. They are merry as crickets as they tell their drinking exploits. Many of them carry a well-filled flask. And thus they get very familiar with that which has destroyed multitudes.

Two of these men met in our car. They were merry, and at last they went back to the water-tank to get water to mix with something else which they drank. And when they returned to their seat, either because 1 looked like one of their sort—as I trust I do not—or because they noticed my interest in their movements, one of them asked me “if I would not take a little? It is real good!” I thanked the young man for his offer, although my sense of duty strugfled with my politeness, and I felt that ought rather to say “Get thee behind me, Satan!” But still I thanked him, and added: “Let me pay you by telling you a story.” Now a story in a tedious ride on a railroad, even if it be in one of the elegant Panhandle’s, is always welcome, and so they all listened as 1 began. “The fact is, gentlemen,” I said, “ Whilst thankful for your offer, I am. afraid to accept it.” “Well, 1 am not afraid,” said the young man, as if a little hurt. , "I was not speaking of you, but of myself,” I replied. “ The fact is, lam afraid. But I was to tell you a story, not an original one, but one in which that wonderful man, Father Hunt, the Temperance lecturer, was an actor! “You may not know that on that subject it, was not always wise for an opposer to attack him. He was sure to be a little singed in the conflict. “One day Mr. Hunt was makings hard assault on rum drinking in a •neighborhood where a Dutch distiller named ‘Billy Myers’ was a sort of king. This man was present and continually interrupting the sneaker by laying in a loud voice: ‘Mr. Hunt, money makes the mare go!’ At first it raised a laugh, which Mr. Hunt took in good nature. "At last he stopped for a personal eolloquy with his tormentor, and said: ■Look here, Mr. Myers, you say money makes the mare go, and you mean that I lecture on temperance for money, don’t you?’ 'Yes, that is what I mean, Mr. Hunt’ ‘Well, Mr. Myers, you carry on a distillery, and you do it for money, don’t your ‘To be sure I do, Mr. Hunt; money makes the mare go.’ ‘And so, Mr. Myers, you say I have a mare, and you have a mare, also; suppose we trot them out together and see how they compare?’

“The meetingwas in a grove, and the sharp lecturer knew a thing or two, and so the old distiller found out, for Mr. Hunt pointed toa young fellow who was quite drunk, and was steadying himseli by a tree, and said: 'Mr. Myers, who is that young fellow?’ The distiller started as if stung, as he answered: ‘That is • my son.’ ‘Your son, is he, Mr. Myers? I guess he has been riding your mare, and got thrown, hasn’t her “And who is that young fellow sitting so drunk on that log out there?” asked the lecturer, pointing to a second one. “The distiller uttered an exclamation of real pain, as he said: ‘That is my son, too.’ ‘He is. is he?’ said Mr. Hunt; ‘I guess he has been riding youi mare, also, and she has kicked up and thrown him over her head, hasn't she? Your mare must be a vicious, dangeroui brute, isn’t she, Mr. Myers?’ “The distiller could not stand it any longer, but said: ‘Look here, Mr. Hunt, I won't say another word if you will let me off.’ “And there is my stoiy about Mr. Bill Myers and his mare.' It may not seem to you, young man, to have much point, but the fact is I have noticed * Bill Myers’ mare' a great many times, •and I have seen a great many men at fearless as you attempt to ride the vicious creature, and I have seen a great many of them thrown and theii necks broken. It may seem cowardly, but I am afraid to ride her, and I most earnestly advise you to get oft' while your neck is whole, for I feel sure she will some day throw you, and, perhaps, kill you. I beg you not to ride Bill Myers’ mare!” Such was my story. I was not very delicate in its illustration, but is a man to stickle for the niceness of words when he sees a fine young fellow riding down to perdition on such a jade? My story hit the mark, and the young man to whom it was addressed was quite “cut down,” and, to “ease up the matter,” I asked him his business, and found he was agent for a large glove manufactory, ana forthwith he opened his satchel and presented me a pair of gloves, as he said: “Asa sign that my honest dealing was appreciated.” Oi course, I accepted them with thanks, but added as a parting admonition: “My young friend, take the advice of a casual acquaintance whose chief business is with young men, and dismount as quickly as possible from Bill Myers’ mare?”— President Tuttle, of Wabash College. Temperance Items. In 1873 a public coffee-house was established in London for the purpose of checking intemperance, ana to-day there are over one hundred and sixty such enterprises in England, mostly in London. They receive the hearty praise of the Church, and the substantial aid of the respectable classes. Our rumsellebs are killing the people for gain and then shrieking for “liberty” to go on with their murdering work. They are coining money by making society fester with corruption, and then yelling for “liberty” to continue the Satanic work of tempting ,and ruining the people.— Rescue. The drink-den never did any rea? good to man, woman or child. No one outside of the liquor-makers and sellers was ever made richer or happier for it. It degrades, not ennobles; curses, not blesses; hurts, not helps; wrecks, not saves. Like all sin, “it is evil, and only evil, and that continually.”

A New Yoke autist, a woman whose husband and son had both been ruined by liquor, recently painted a picture for which Stokes, slayer of Jim Fisk and proprietor of the Hoffman House barroom, offered her a large sum of money. On learning, however, that it was to be used to attract drinkers to his saloon, she refused to make the sale.— N. Y. Sun. The following is from a friend at Waukesha, Wis., and explains itself: “I heard a leading citizen of Waukesha say recently, in the presence of a multitude, that ‘the city had received sl,000 this year for whisky or saloon license. As one of the results I have held four inquests on the bodies of four men,who were all citizens of this place, and all died from the effects of liquor bought on the authority of these licenses! Two committed suicide, and two, father and son, lay down on the railroad track and were crushed to death by the in-coming train. Four men, soul and body, for $1,000!’ When will our people awake to the enormity of the sin they are committing in licensing people to sell rum?”—Raw Francisco Rescue. The most attractive organ'of the bicycle movement, the Wheelman, gives no uncertain sound as to. the need of absolute sobriety and freedom from all alcoholics and narcotics, if the devotee of the wheel would have his fill of pleasure therefrom. Its testimony is that the best enjoyment and the best accomplishments in bicycling call for that “good condition” in the rider which it promotes. “He who would excel or even hold his own with his companions of the wheel must keep well and fresh. He is sure to find, if he tries them any way, that beer and billiards, late hours and dissipation, smoking and wrong eating disqualify him for good workmanship. Smoking injures respiration, and drinking takes off the edge of muscular action. A cigarette or two will make a hill unrideable; a glass of beer or two will leave the drinker at the rear for the rest of the ride.” —Union Signal. —To illustrate the longevity of medical men, a London paper notes that during 1882 twenty English physicians died at ages between seventy-eight and ninety-six.

He Gave II Away. ; He was trying to sell the stranger Mr house and lot and after the prospective purchaser had wandered through the attic and nosed around the Kitchen, and poked into the closets, and rattled the windows to see if they were tight, and smelled of the cistern water to see how much dead cat it would assay to the gallon, the. owner of the property took him down into the cellar, which he had spent all night in whitewashing. The meteor, which w.as stuck up on a shelf in one corner of the cellar, attracted the stranger’s attention. “How much does your gas cost you a year?” asked he. / The householder gave a knowing ( wink, poked the stranger in the ribs, ana said: “Yon don't look like a man who would give the thing away, and seeing as you’re going to buy the house anyway, I don't mind telling you. It don’t cost me acent.” “It don’t?” said the stranger with evident surprise. “No, not a red,” said the other, “and it’s all owing to a little observation on my part as to the workings of the meter there. I’ll explain. You see, when I first moved into this house I was doing a good business, and so I had everything fixed up in tony style, chandeliers in every room in the house, kitchen included, and other luxuries to correspond. But after awhile my business commenced to run down, and I had to shut down on expenses. My wife suggested that we economize on the gas bill; so I bought a lot of lamps, and we stopped using the gas burners, except in the parlor when we had company. When the man with the lantern came around to look at the meter, I fairly kicked myself with joy to think how it would astonish him. But it didn’t. “The bill for that month was just as big as it was tbe month before, and when I squealed, there was the meter to back them up. I couldn’t get around that. Well, next month I thought I’d experiment. So I put the lamps away in the garret, and used every gas-burner in the house. Kept two chandeliers in the bed-rooms going day and night, just for luck. Bill for that month just the same. Then I thought I might as well be getting all the good outofthatmeter that it would stand, so I told the Gas Company I’d like to have a couple of chandeliers put in the stable for the use of the hired man. They came and put them in, and that very same day a man came to fix up the meter. Said some of the meters were wearing out inside, and had to have some of their drivingwheels renewed, or something of that sort. The hired girl said that he took out a cog-wheel and put in a bigger one. and then wound it up like an eight-day clock, at the end of that month the bill was about twice as big as before. “Well that month's bill settled me, you can just bet. I tapped a hole in the pipe leading to the barn, ran another pipe over to our next neighbor, and let him have all the gas he wanted for ten per cent off. Inside of two months I was supplying the whole square, and it didn't cost a cent more than It did to supply my house and stable. By this little scheme and by strict economy I have been enabled to amass a handsome sum of money, and as soon as. you take this house off my hands I’m going to move into the big brick down on the corner. I’ll turn this little monopoly right over into your hands. It's a little dangerous, but if you’ve got the nerve your gas needn’t cost you a cent, as I said at first, and—” “My gas isn’t likely to cost me anything, anyway,” saia the stranger, interrupting him for the first time. “Why?” “Because,” said the stranger, solemnly, “I’m the new secretary of the gas company. ’ ’ — Boston Courier.

The mill owner who turned the fire hose upon some of his disorderly employes explained his conduct by saying he was only washing his hands.— Boston Commercial RulleHn.

THE MARKETS. New York, June 8.1888. LIVE STOCK—Cattle. IS 00 ® *8 88 Hogs. 0 90 5- 788 FLOUR-GoodtoChoice 408 @ 700 Patent 800 § 778 WHEAT—No. * Red 121)4@ 12$ Ungraded White 114 @ 117 CORN-No. t 66!i@ 87M OATS-Westera Mixed 46*® teg RYE 74 @ 70 PORK-Moss 19 78 @3OOO LAUD—Steam 11 SO @ 11 82)4 CHEESE 9 @ lOR WOOL—Domestic SO @ 45 CHICAGO. * BEEVES-Extra $6 00 @jßoTfl\ Medium 540 @ 680 Butchers' Stock 378 @ 628 Inferior Cattle 360 @'B2B HOGS-Llve-Good to Choice 060 @ 725 • SHEEP 425 @ 560 BUTTER—Creamery 18 ® 28 Good to Choice Dairy. 14 @ 18 EGGS—Fresh 10 @ 18)4 FLOUR-Wlnter 475 @ 800 Spring 400 <3, 875 Patent 850 @ 760 GRAIN—Whom, No. 2 Spring 1 10*0 110)4 Corn,No. 2 65)4® . 55* Oats, No. 2 40*5 40)4 8y0.N0.-f.... )?@ 82* Burley, No. 1 78 @ 79 BROOM-CORN- . „ Red-Tipped Hurl 4)4® 8 Fine Green 8)40 5, Inferior 4 @ 4)4 Crooked 2 @ 8 SRK— Mess..... 18 86 @lB 90 KD—Steam 11 57)40 11 80 ■ MBER— Common Dressed Siding. 18 00 @* 20 00 Flooring 18 00 @ 30 U 0 Common Boards 12 00 @ 18 00 Fencing 12 00 @ 14 50 Lath 260 5 200 Shingles 290 @ 820 EAST LIBERTY. OATTLE-Best 50 25 ffl ffl 60 Fair to Good 650 @ 800 HOGS-Yorkers 876 @ 085 Pbiladelphlas 700 @ 710 SHEEP-Best 475 @ 550 Common 325 @ 450 BALTIMORE. CATTLE-Best 50 50 @ 50 75 Medium 425 @ 500 HOOS 900 and 975 SHKKP-Poor to Choice 80J @ 050