Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 38, Decatur, Adams County, 7 December 1894 — Page 7

©he democrat DJECCA.TUK, IND. y. BLackbukw. - - • Pwaam. I If Mr. Pullman doesn’t reduce the rents of his upper berths he should at least furnish clothes-pins for snorers. Three Indiana men tried to thaw out some dynamite and made a quick job of It That’s all. They’ll never do it again. Spain pays us $17,500 Indemnity for not having prevented our missionaries from establishing themselves on Spanish soil. If there is a language of flowers, what does a slx-incb-across chrysanthemum say when It button-holes a man? V Russia has not been celebrated for great generals, but if she were to put her 11,000,000 of effective men in the field one might be developed from such a mass. The poor sewers of Cincinnati have to compete with people in the country, who take sewing from the city and who can live cheaper than they. Girls who sew for pin money are also competitors. Dr. Talmage will hereafter preach as an evangelist and not in a church of bis own. It is to be hoped that the doctor’s 11l fortune in the matter of church fires will not follow him. The destruction of church property would be fearful. It is a mournful fact for the bicycle trade that the soldiers of Europe find that they cannot utilize the bicycle to any great extent In war. Bad roads appear to be the bane of the bike. The horse market cannot be abandoned altogether just yet The molasses whisky trust is said to have large sugar properties In the West Indies, and it will therefore not be dependent upon this country for its sweets. It is likely that this molasses whisky will produce only such reptiles as are familiar to the West Indians. If the poets will go to work in the long winter evenings some of them may succeed in bringing out something worthy of the morning-glory flower by the time the brooks renew their flowing. The morning-glory flower, properly poemed, might do much to humble the presumptuous chrysanthemum. King Alexander of Servia having the right 1 to marry a peasant or a princess, there is a report that he has chosen Miss Pullman for his Queen. This, however, may he only the dream of’ some slumbering passenger In an upper berth. Newspaper readers will await further advices from Servia. Mr. Ward McAllister Is, perhaps, too touch alarmed at his vision of a woman with a baby reaching the Presidential office. There are unincumbered ladies who might be elected to the White House. There Is every reason to believe Miss Anthony would consent to accept the office tor the first four years at least . • - np SrSe TTsrShtVvlsittoe : primary grades of the public schools and see for themselves how the hours of the children there are engrossed with needless, fruitless and vexatious- ' things to the neglect of plain and hon- ' est primary grade work which is only half done or not done at all. Every one who has been in a primary school knows that it is impossible to spend too much attention upon drilling children tn writing, arithmetic, correct language, and the history of the United States. It is well that parents should visit primary grades and bring their own judgment into line with, the most enlightened conviction.

11;: d'i /> ~ .‘. HI ’ ■’ E- • : The St Louis, the first native fruit of the now policy Inaugurated by the act of May 10,1892, should be accepted as rtily an earnest of greater fleets to come. While the thronged ferry that the new boats, of the American Line will traverse is by long odds the most Important .stretch of ocean on the globe, thcte yet remain so many distant seas where the stroke of an American screw never, churns the waters into foam, so many trade routes where the flutter of pld GlOty never catches the sun, that the deareht aspiration of all who saw that proud hull launched, and all who read pf the scene, must be that her will Mock after her like gulls, as many and as fleet. The inspiriting example of two such liners breaking records over the combined Broadway apd Piccadilly of the oeean should be enough in itself to arouse American merchants. Ocean commerce, like all diUer f,orms of trade, is emulative as ■well as competitive and grows out; of a nation’s pride as well as its enterprise. Cine St Louis will In time make twenty such, plying across both Atlantic and Pacific, making a class by themselves like that of which the English marine can boast. With the SV Louis and the 8t Paul to the'front, moreover, the many smaller American-built steamers now ply a coastwise trade to the Smith American ports will be given a leader and It will at once be seen hpw .efficient a nucleus we already possess steam fleet; - 1 ■ IhU£ 111 kiI 1 -V!'□* : 1 £».•»■>{ I.* One of the latest improvements in public service has just gone into operation in Orange, N. J., to the surprise ud deUgbiif ft partpfihe_E2P.!iiftiteaJ

and tfie dismay of another part This Improvement consists In utilizing the ordinary water-pipes as a means of supplying fresh fish. One Italian family received a live eel, weighing one pound and three-quarters, and were happy. Another family, on account of the faucets not being properly fitted for the delivery of fish, permitted their eel to die In the pipe. As one of the advantages of this proposed method Is that fish will be fresher than usual, this was a failure. But when the system is fully elaborated with properly contrived faucets, this will not occur. For the present the supply is restricted to eels on account of the shape of the pipes, but if the system is found to be successful with eels, pipes will be gradually introduced equal to the delivery of the largest-sized suckers and codfish steaks. When last summer an appeal was made to Mr. Pullman for arbitraton his peremptory refusal was based on the grounds that his company could not raise wages In any event, because it would then be operating at a loss; that the chief reason for keeping Its plant In operation at all at such a period was that employes might be kept in some work even though the work was poorly compensated. Concerning this point—the nub of Mr. Pullman’s contention—the strike commission first mentions the 2 per cent, quarterly dividends drawn by the stockholders, and bluntly says: “In its statements to the public, which are in evidence, the company represents that its object in all it did was to continue operations for the benefit of its workmen and of tradespeople In and about Pullman, and to save the public from the annoyance of interrupted travel. The commission thinks that the evidence shows that it sought to keep running mainly for Its own benefit as a manufacturer that Its jrlant might not rust; that Its competitors might no invade its territory; that it might keep its ears in repair; that it might be ready for resumption when business revived with a live plant and competent help, and that its revenue from its tenements might continue.” Mr. Pullman's argument—or that which his representatives urged on his behalf—has lacked an official answer. This answer is both official and extremely candid.

Uungry Pike. The rapacity of the pike is well known. Fish, flesh and fowl seem alike acceptable to its palate, and it does not disdain mineral products; rings, spoons, plummets and other articles have been frequently taken from its maw. The best -authenticated instance of attempted manslaughter by the pike is that recorded in “Fishing." One of my sons, aged 15, went with three other boys to bathe in Inglemere Pond, near the Ascot race-course. He walked into the water to about the depth of four, feet, when he spread out his hands to attempt to swim. At that instant a large fish came up and took his whole hand into his mouth; but finding itself unable to swallow it relinquished its hold, and the boy, turning round, prepared for a hasty retreat His companions, who saw the fish, scram Wed out of the pond as fast as possible. My son had scarcely turned around bfifofo the fish came jiD Ifie Tiea3i when it disappeared. The kerchiefs, and brought him home. We took him to the surgeon, who dressed seven wounds in one hand; and so great was the pain the next day that the lad fainted twice. The little finger was bitten through the nail, and it was more than six weeks before it was well. The nail came off, and the scar remains to this day.

By Wholesale. A young lady who was in a hurry to take a train, and wanted to buy a small shopping bag, walked into a wholesale establishment by mistake. ' -“Wlll-you show me a bag, please?” she began; but the clerk interrupted her politely. “We sell nothing at retail,” he said. “I could only let you have bags by the quantity." “Dear me! Not one bag?” “No, madam. I’m very sorry.” “And I’m in such a-'hurry! Well!” She turned toward the door, and her eye was caught by a sample bag on the counter. “Ah," she exclaimed, “that’s exactly the bag I want! Couldn’t you sell me the twelfth of a dozen?” • She got her bag. Lord Cardigan’s Gamekeeper. It was said of the late Lord Cardigan that an one occasion he was extremely angry with his keeper when very little game was found in a certain plantation. After blowing him up sky-high the choleric master ordered him to beat through another wood, wljjch he pointed out, promising Instant dismissal if satisfactory results were not obtained. “But, my lord,” urged the keeperbut he was Interrupted by Lord Cardigan: “Not a word, sir; obey my orders at once!“ Terrified, the wretched man slunk off and the wood was duly beat •up to the guns. There was scarcely a head of game in it Limp and dejected, the unfortunate keeper now came up, and when his lordship had said all he had to say, and was compelled tc stop for want of breath, the poor mar meekly pleaded: "But, my Jord, ift not your wood at all—only you told nu to beat Magazine, ■ .1 ' In, I' ' j I - The women think that ©very time s mas goes into a dry goods store, lit gets robbed,

AT TWILIGHT. I stood at twilight by the shlinmerlug lake, And watched the shadowy, autumntinted leaves, Inverted, swaying in the evening breeze, And the red tower and the pretty boathouse make A picture that no future years can take From out my memory; shadows such as these— The beautiful unreal—make oases In every earnest life; we dream and wake To nobler duties from such times of rest Earth seems a paradise reflecting heaven; Love floods the soul with colors richer far Than even nature in the glowing west. The hopes of youth come back; new strength is given, As through the twilight breaks the evening star. —[Sarah K. Bolton, in Clevaud Leader. EPHBHIJB S PIHCB. KEV. S. BAKING—GOULD. A little to one side of the track that leads, to Widdecombe in the Moor and that branches from the main artery of travel which runs from Tavistock to Moreton Hampstead, and thence to Exeter, is an ancient tenement in the midst of the waste, called Runnage. Runnage lies in a very lonesome spot; the hills that fold about it to the back and west afford sufficient shelter for sycamores to have grown to a considerable size—sycamore, the one tree which will hold its own anywhere.

The tenants of these holdings enjoy great right by custom. The heir of each and every one, on the death of each and every tenant, has by custom tho privilege of inclosing eight acres of the forest or/'waste ground, paying therefor one shilling annually to the Crown and thi/ inclosure is called a new-take. No wonder that the Duchy of Cornwall does all in its power to rid itself of these encroaching neighbors. The new-take walls haveVroughtlhe destruction of the rude stone monuments; avenues of upright stones, circles, cromlechs, kistvaens, have been ruthlessly pillaged, used as quarries which have been handy. In a great many cases the largest upright ones have been seized upon as gateposts, or thrown across leats and rivers as bridges, or have been utilized to prop up Jin hays, and the lesser stpnes that perhaps commemorate some insignificant tradesman, have been left, while the great menhir set up in honor of his chief has disappeared. Sometimes the builders of the new-take walls threw down a great manolith with the intention of breaking it up, and then abandoned it because they found smaller stones more handy; sometimes they transported such big stones part way to the new wall, and cast it down, it being too heavy for their arms to convey any further. The marvel is that so miich stil| remains after over a thousand years of wanton ravage. - Runnage tenpimont .fiAnn- j - up without mortar gave access to a courtyard paved, very small, into which all the windows of the house looked. Here also, were the outhouses, stables, pigstyes, the well house, the peat store, the saddle and farm implement houses. All opened inward, all could be reached with very little exposure. The main door of the dwelling did not open into the kitchen, but into a sort of barn in which every sort of lumber was kept, with the fowls roosting on the lumber. This served as a workhouse for the men on rainy or foggy days; here they could repair damaged tools, hammer out nails and rivets, store potatoes, nurse the sheep in “yeaning time,” prepare the rushes for thatching. Here at the end were heaped up high to the roof vast masses of dry bracken to serve as bedding, and in this, in bad weather, the children played hide and seek, and Constructed themselves nests. At Runnage at one time lived the substantial tenant, Quintin Creeber, paying to the Crown a slight acknowledgment, and thriving on the produce of his sheep and kine and horses. He tilled -little grain, grew no roots. There was always grass or hay for his beasts. If the snow lay on the ground deep, then only had he recourse to the hayrick. What little grain he grew was rye, and that was for the household bread.

Quintin Creeber had a daughter. Cecily, or, as she was always called, Sysly, a pretty girl with warm complexion, like a ripe apricot, very full soft brown eyes and the richest auburn hair. She was lithe, strong, energetic; she was Quintin’s only child; his three sons were dead. One had been killed in a mine, one had died of scarlet fever, and the third had fallen into the river in time of flood, and had aquired a chill which had carried, him oft Sysly would t>e the heir to Quintin —inherit Runnage, his savings and the right, on her father’s death, of inclosing another eight acres of moor. On the loss of his sons, Quintih had-taken into his service one Ephraim Weekes, a young man, broad-shouldered, Strongly built, noted as a constructor of new-take walls, Ephraim had a marvelous skill in moving masses of granite which could not be stirred by three ordinary men. It was all knaek, he

I said, ail done by pinching, that is to say, by leverage. But he used more t than a lever—he employed rollers as well. Without other than a ready . wit, and a keen estimation of Weights and forces drawn from experience, . Ephraim was able to move and get into place blocks which two and even three other men would avoid touching. He was not a tall man, but was admirably set and proportioned. Ho , bad fair hair and blue-gray eyes, a grave, undemonstrative manner, and a resolute mouth. , Instead of wearing hair about his face, it was Ephraim’s custom to , shave lip and chock and chin; the hair of his head he wore somewhat long, except only on two occasions when he had his hair mown by the blacksmith at Widdecombe; one of these was Christmas, the other midsummer. Then for a whilq, he was short-cropped; but his hair grew rapidly again. He was a quiet man who did not speak much, reserved with the farmer, and not seeking companionship at the nearest hamlet of Post Bridge, where was the tavern, the social heart of the region. Ephraim was the youngest son of a small farmer at Walna, a house with a bit of land that had been parted- off from Runnage tenement , at some time in the tenth century. , Walna could not maintain four men, beside the farmer and his wife, consequently the youngest, Ephraim, was obliged to seek work away from the parental house; and he had been employed repairing fallen walls and constructing new ones, till Quintin i Creeber had engaged him as a laborer ’ on his farm. Not for one moment had it occurred to the owner of Runnage that this might lead to results other than those of business between master and man—that it was possible Ephraim might aspire to Sysly, and I his daughter stoop to love the labor-1 ing man. i It was quite true that in the matter of blood the Creebers and the Weekeses were equal, but a moorman is too practical a man to consider blood; he looks to position, to money. The husband he had in his eye for his daughter was a man who had capital wherewith to develop the resources of the farm, to enlarge the new-takes,, to break up fresh soil, to buy well bred horses, and double the number of oxen, and quadruple that of sheep kept on the farm and the moor over which he had free right of common. Quintin would have hesitated to take into his employ Killeas, that is to say, Archelaus Weekes, the eldest son of his neighbor at Walna, a handsome fellow, with a song or a joke always in his mouth, who loved to romp with the girls, who liked his glass at the tavern; but Ephriam was different. ’ What girl would care for him, plain, silent, without wickedness (z.e., mischief) in him, who never made or understood a joke? Sysly was aged seventeen when Ephraim, a man of twenty-three, came into the service of Quintin Creeber. He served faithfully for seven years, and never gave the farmer cause to reproach him for inactivity, was ever docile, obliging and industrious. Such a man was not to be found elsewhere; such a combination of great strength. When seven years were‘over, then c Sysly was twenty-four, and Ephraim i was thirty. There had come suitors for the girl —among them the eldest son of the farmer Weekes, the light- i hearted, handsome Killeas. She had ] refused him. The young farmer of ] Hexworthy had sued for her, and had i been rejected, greatly to the wonder of Quintin. Now, when the seven i years were over, then Ephraim, in ] his wonted quiet, composed manner, j said to the owner of Runnage: • “Maister, me and your Sysly likes one another, and we reckon us’ll : make one. What sez you to that, i Maister?”

Quintin stared, fell back in astonishment, and did not answer for three minutes, while he gave himself time for consideration. He did not want to lose a valuable servant. He had no thought of giving him his daughter. So he said: “Pshaw! you’re both too young. Wait another seven years, and if you be in the mind then, you and she, speak of it again.” Ephraim took Quintin at his word, without a remonstrance, without an attempt to persuade him to be more yielding. He remained on another seven years. . Then Sysly was aged thirty-orfe, I and he—thirty-seven. On the very i day fourteen years on which he had j entered the house at Runnage, exactly when the seven years were concluded, at the end of which farmer Quintin had bid him -speak of the matter again, then Ephriani went in quest of him, with the intent of again asking for Sysly. He had not wavered in his devotion to her. She had refused every suitor—for him. He found the old man in the outer barn or entrance to the house; he was hilling a sack with rye. “I say—Ephriam, ” he spoke, as Weekesentered: “there’s the horse gone lame, and we be out of flour. What is to be done? Sysly tells mo there hain’t a crumb of flour more in the bin, and her wants to bake to once.” “Maister,” said Ephriam, “I’ve waited as you said this second seven years. The time be up to-day. Me and Sysly, us ain’t changed our minds, not one bit. Just the same, only us likes one*another a thousand times dearer nor ever us did afore. Will’y now give her to me?” “Eook’y hare, Ephriam. Carry

> this sack o’ rye on your back to > Widdecombe mill, and bring it home J full o’ flour—and I will.” He had set the man an impossible * task. It was five miles to the mill, , and the road a mountainous one. - But he had put him off—that was i all he cared for. In the room was Sysly. She had i heard all. She came out; she saw ) Ephriam tying up the neck of the i; sack. “Help her up on my back, I Sysly,” said he. “Eph !—you do not mean it! You 1 can’t do it. It’s too much.” > Ho said: ‘Carry this sack to > Widdecombe mill, and bring’n back 1 , fwll of flour, and you shall have i j her.” ! i “It was a joke.” “I don’t understand a joke. He said it. He’s a man of his word, J i straight up and down.” Sysly held the sack up. But her heart misgave her. ’ “Eph,” she said; ‘‘my father only ' said that because he knew you couldn’t do it.” “I can do it —when I see you before me.” “Howdo’y mean, Eph?” “ ‘Bring back the sack o’ flour,and you shall?have her.’ Sys, I’d carr’ ; I the world on my back for that.” I He was strong, broad-shouldered, : and he started with his burden. Sysly watched him with doubt and unrest. I Was it possible that he could reach j Widdecombe with such a burden? If i he reached the mill, could he carry > back the sack of flour? She watched I him down the hill,, and across the Wallabrook that gives its name Walna (now corrupted into Warner) to his father’s farm., Then ensued an ascent, and she saw him toiling up the hill of Sousson’s Moor with the j sack en his back, Was there any I avail in his undertaking this tremen-. j dous exertion? Surely her father, if’ i he had intended to give his consent, would not have made it conditional on the discharge of such a task ! Surely, if he had designed to make Ephraim his son-in-law, he would not have subjected him to such a strain! Was it not probable that Ephraim would do himself an injury in attempting this impossible task? Sysly knew 7 the resolution, the low) of the silent, strong-hearted man; she felt assuredjthat he would labor on under his burdbn, toil up the steep slopes—struggle, I with perspiration streaming, with panting lungs and quivering up the great ridge of Hamledon—that he would pursue his purpose till nature gave way. And for .what ? She did not share \ his confidence in the good faith of her father. She watched Ephraim till thp tears so clouded her eyes that she could see the patient, faithful man no longer. Hours passed. The evening came on ; and Quintin Creeber returned to the house. “Where is Ephraim?” he asked. “I want to have the mare blistered—she can’t put a foot to the ground.” “Ephraim is gone to Widdecombe,” ' answered Sysly. “To Widdecombe? Who gave him leave?” - • “Father, you told him to carry the sack.” No man - can. He’ll chuck the sack down on the Way and come back without it/’ “He’ll neyer do that, Father ” Quintin Creeber was much astonished. The man had taken him at his word. The more fool he. He had attempted the impossible. M ell, I there was this advantage. When Weekes returned without thejflour or rye, he. Quintin. would be able to laugh at him and say: “You have not fulfilled the condition, therefore —no Sysly for you.” Quintin Creeber walked out of his farm buildings and went to the Wid- : decombe road. “Pshaw,” said he, “the man is an ass. He couldn’t do it. He should have known that, and not have attempted it.” As he said these words to himself he discerned in the evening glow over Sousson’s Moor a figure descend- [ ing the path or road. “By gum!” said the farmer, “it is I Ephraim. He’s never done it; he has come back beat—turned halfway. j How the chap staggers! By crock I ; he’s down, he’s fallen over a stone, j The weight is too much for him des- ! cending. I swear, if I didn’t know he were as temperate as—as —no one I else on the moor, I'd say he were drunk, he reels so. There he is now ■ at the bridge. Ha Ihe has set the sack down, and is leaning—his head on it. I reckon he’s just about dead beat. The more fool he! He should ha’ known I never meant it. What! he’s coming on again. Up hill! That’ll try him. Gum! a snail goes faster. He has a halt every three steps. He daren’t set down the sack; he’d never get her up on his back again. is, down on one knee; kneeling to his prayers, be he? or taking his breath? He's up again and crawling on. ’Well,, I recken this is a pretty bit of a strain for Ephraim, up this steep ascent wi’ a sack o’ flour on his back,, and four to five miles behind him.” The farmer watched the man as he toiled up the road, step by step; it seemed as if each must be the last, and he must collapse, go down in a heap at the next. Slowly, however, he forged on till he came up to Quintin. Then the yeoman saw his face. Ephraim was haggard, his eyes starting from his head; he breathed hoarsely, like one snoring, and there was froth on his lips. K Quintin Creeber put his hand under

» the sack. “By gum!” said he; > “flour!” It was even so. That man had car? ried the burden of rye to the mill, and had come back with it in the condition of flour. Half-supporting the sack, the farmer attended his man as he I stumbled forward, turned out of the ’ road, and took the track to Runnage. • Ephraim could not speak. He looked out of his great, starting eyes at the master, and moved his lips; i but foam, not words formed on them. They were purple, cracked and bleed- > ing So they went on till they : reached the farm. Then, in the outer chamber, without a word, Ephraim dropped the sack and sank against it, and pointed to Sysly, who , appeared at the door. “Gammon!” said Quintin; “you weren’t such a fool as to think to r have she? Her’s not for you—not tho’ you’ve took the sack and , brought’n back again. Sysly—yours [ —never!” The man could not speak. He . sank, slipped down, and fell before the sack, that partly held him up. His head dropped forward on hisI breast. • , “Look up. Ephraim; don’t be a. fool!” said the yeoman. Hb wOSpatt looking up. He was dead. X On the old ordnance map of 1809, I see that the steep ascent up which Weekes made his last climb, laden , with the sack of rye flour, is marked ; as “Ephraim’s Pinch." As a moorman said: “That was a pinch for Ephraim—such a climb with such a weight after nine miles; but there was for he a worser pinch, when old Creeber said, ‘lt is all for naught. You sha’n’t have she.’ That pinched Ephraim’s heart, and pinched the life out of he.” But I observe on the new ordnance I®f 1836 “Ephraim’s Pinch” is omitted. Can it be that the surveyors did not think the name worth preserving? Can it be that , Ephraim I and his pinch are forgotten on the I moor? Alas! time with her waves washes out the writing on the sands. May my humble pen serve to pre- ! serve the memory of Ephraim and : his Pinch.—[The Independent. In an Indian Canoe. “What a wonderful creation isjthe Indian canoe! Light as foam, blown . like a feather by the slightest breeze, responsive as a cork to the least ripple ; yet this same fragile bark is , adapted to the wildest waters. It j leaps in safety from crest to crest of : the cataract, or buoyantly surmounts the billows of the stormy’ lake. It was well for this morning that it was so, for w’b were heading toward a i broad sheet of water that was thickly dotted with white caps. We were I soon far enough out to feel the full 1 ■ force of the gale that stung our faces [ with wind and spray. To go against such a wind with a bark canoe would, be an utter impossibility, but to run with it was great fun. Our safety depended upon the skill oi the steersman in keeping her before the windCertainly the day had commenced auspiciously; we were making quick J, yme._,Tb£ cc' r Vßb'"putidies' anfi inserted the blades in the armholes. This extempore sail greatly 7 added to the speed of our flying craft. On we flew, outstripping the spray that leaped after us and fell short. This kind of sailing furnished sensations for which no analogy can be founcTin the whole range of navigation. Instead of plunging deeply and laboring heavily as a wooden boat would, our buoyant vessel scarcely deigned J, to plunge at all, but seemed to skim __ like a sea-gull on the very foam itself. So we crossed Lake Talon in a La, boat which a man could carry, doing ■ eight miles of angry waves without ■ shipping a thimbleful of water.’ — [Outing.. A Strange Experience. Aboq£ forty-five years ago ClemHffi Wallis, then a boy fifteen years of' age, went out to his father’s pasture to catch a frisky colt. As he wasa 1 about to place a halter about it» . I neck, the colt kicked him in ! head, making a ragged wound. Tlujyi-J i wound healed, but it soon became ap parent that the boy was slightly de-oxx. I mented. His hallucination took p< I culiar forms. He would travel u : and down the bay on the steamboat: claiming proprietorship, and refu: I ing to pay fare. The steamboat meinary i humored him, as he was considereary ‘daft. He was the butt of the small?. I boy’s jokes and banter. He has lived ate( j in the village since, and is now Bixty ic j e( j years of age. About six weeks agetry the local physicians decided to ex-tlock periment on his cese. They 7 found2-* that a portion of his skull had been—_ forced into contact with the brain by the blow, and by a skillful operation they removed the pressure. man recovered his reason, and the|£) first question he asked, when he recovered from the operation was.“Did tho colt get away?” He isrft perfectly sane now, but forty-fivejP years of his life are a blank to himRL —[Portland (Me.) Advertiser. Apples for Coffee. I* German papers report that apples® L cut into little pieces, well dried and* pulverized, make an excellent coffee* substitute. When this is mixed with equal parts of ground coffee, only an expert can tell it from ine unmixed coffee. The apple AoukU alone mixed with a little chicory is said to give a palatable “coffee.”—, ’ York World. \-