Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 December 1878 — Page 1

' gftiq jfcemocratin Sentinel A. DEMOCRATIC NEWSPAPER PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY, BT TAMES W. McEWEN. TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. On# copy ooe y»*r fIJO One copr *l* month# IM On# copy throe moatha Jt t3r~A4v«rtfatnf rat## on appliestton

Susan Lane’s Christinas.

A HOLIDAY STORY.

BY BAYARD TAYLOR.

L “Three skeins, dark gray!—Only a yard of ribbon!! —Don’t lose the pattern ! I!—And the cotton ■wadding!!! r The old covered buggy was rolling away from the gate, as Lydia Maria Lane called, or rather sereamed, with rising shrillness of voice, these parting directions. But Busan neither looked back nor answered; on the contrary, the flourish of a whip was momentarily visible, the horse started briskly forward, and the buggy whirled into the main road. “Well, I never!” Lydia Maria exclaimed, as she drew the shawl around her shoulders, and rested her elbows on the gate-post; “I don’t believe she half knows what she’s about, So fidgety all at once, and her hands so hot! I hope to goodness k isn’t the typhus.” It was tfye day before Christmas. Susan’s biggest turkey was to be caught and ktfu*l kfiafc afternoon, and there were various articles—cranberries being not the least important among them—to be procured at the village store. The sky was uncertain, and the pleasant brown landscape was dappled with gleams of struggling sunshine, but there was just that touch of healthy cold in the air which makes December, in Southern Pennsylvania, as lovely as any autumn month. Lydia Maria, a tall and wiry'spinster of—well, we may allow 40 years, but not a day over—looked into the garden and noticed that the sage and parsley were still tolerably fresh. As she pulled the best sprigs, with a view to the to-morrow’s turkey, a faint, delicious odor surprised her nostrils. In that warm corner which was sheltered by the clump of box a whole bed of white violots hod suddenly bloomed! The perfume and tho sight of the flowers made her think of Susan again, and an unusual, softened expression came over her rigid face while she gathered enough to fill a saucer. Somehow, it was always Susan’s turkey which was taken for Christmas. In fact, it was owing to Susan alone that Christmas had como to be commemorated in the Lane farm-house. The people of the neighborhood were partly of Quaker and partly of Baptist descent, with a slight infusion of the ScotchIrish Presbyterian element. They had never been accustomed even to a yearly Thanksgiving festival, and only a few of them had inherited tho habit of looking for any special good cheer at Christmas time. But when young William Lane enlisted ns a soldier of the Union, Susan, then a girl of 14, could not hear of the turkeys and sausages and pies sent to other sons and brothers in the regiment encamped on the hills beyond Washington without fairly extorting from the family a like gift for William. Her father and her older brother, Jeremiah, were opposed to the war; her mother was dead, and Lydia Maria, silently enduring what country-people call “ a disappointment,” took but a languid interest in the work. It cost Susan much labor and many tears, but she finally succeeded, More than this, she offered up her ouly remaining turkey, reasted it, set it on the table that very Christmas day, and comforted herself with the fancy that William was enjoying, at the same moment, his happy fill of breast and side-bone. The next winter the brave young fellow was in Libby prison, and no one made objection to the large box forwarded to him, in tho fond belief that the Express Company delivered their packages punctually insido of the Southern lines. Alas! the box never arrived; but they did not know of this until months afterwards. They ate Susan’s turkey, as usual, then and for years suceeeding; tho first objections, prompted by old Gideon Lane’s habit of selfdenying economy, were gradually forgotten, and thus Christmas day (as also at many of the neighboring farm-houses) came to be an accepted festival, if rather a sober one. Even Lydia Maria, as she walked toward the house with sage, parsley and white violets in her hand, found herself thinking of the morrow with a restful pleasure. Jeremiah, who had been at work in the wood-shed, met her near the kitchendoor. He looked at the herbs she carried, nodded slightly to himself as if to say, “It’s about right!” and then suddenly exclaimed: “See here! Isn’t Jit time for somebody else to give the Christmas turkey?” “ Gracious, Jerry! ” exclaimed Lydia Maria, with a start; “ how came you to say what was passing in my own mind ? ” “ I don’t know how, exactly; I seemed to think of it last year, and so it kind o’ turned up again.” “ Well, then,” said his sister, after a pause of reflection, “ Susan’s either got something on her mind, or in her constitution. It isn’t that; I don’t believe she’s thinking overly much of turkeys to-day. It’s either a worry o’ some sort—or the typhus.” “ She did look flushed up, as a body might say,” answered the brother. “But that’s neither here nor there. We’ve somehow got used to having a turkey—and a better spread in general ---on Christmas day, and it’s been mostly her doings. I think I should miss it myself if it was stopped off short; and it ain’t hardly fair to take it, every year, off her share. Now, I’ve about made up my mind to give one o’ my best this time.” “Oh, Jerry! and so I’d about made up my mind to give mine. Either way, whichever it is, Kill one now, say I, and have it picked and drawn before she gets back! ” While the two are walking toward the barn-yard, taking two or three ears of com from the crib on the way, let us leave them to follow Susan as she drives toward the village.

II Yes; there was really something the matter with Susan Lane. A neighbor, meeting her in the road, might have attributed her bright eyes and glowing cheeks to the tonic of the crisp, inspiring December air; but she, herself, was well aware of an almost feverish mixture of hope and anxiety, which gave her a sense of dryness in the throat and compelled her pulses to make ten beats more to the minute. The steady old plowhorse that drew the buggy knew it also; the impatient touch of the whip on his flanks was succeeded by a listless carelessness, even on the levels where he was so well accustomed to trot. He was wise enough to take advantage of this, and had verv leisurely reaohed his usual post is front of the *tore, when Busan

The Democratic Sentinel.

JAS. W. McEWEN, Editor.

VOLUME 11.

gave him the greatest surprise of his life by suddenly jerking his head in the opposite direction, driving through the village half a mile into the valley beyond, and then turning down a meadow road to a grove where temperaaeemfeetings and summer picnics were sometimes held. Her visit to such an unusual place, at that season, was not unexpected. Scarce had she drawn rein upon a smooth, open piece of turf near the bank of the stream, when two men rode forth between the thickets to meert her; One of them had dismounted and was at her side before she could alight from the buggy; the other let down the top,«ame to the other side and took her second kiss. She was so excited that her voioe trembled, in spite of her efforts to keep it Bteady, and her eyes filled with tears which at last overflowed. “Oh”— we must not repeat the names she uttered, or the whole seferet of the adventure might be guessed in advance), “and oh, -I And you’ve really come? I never had so much on my mind beforehand I dan|; hogr to bear Up underdt! Ifs'like SOhrethmg out of a story —something that does not really happen—and afte#ipjl thll time —” Here her voice fairly broke down, but the first rider sprung into the buggy, seated himself beside her, and held her very gently and tenderly in his arms. The second of the two men smiled. “He doesn’t know everything yet by a long shot,” he said pointing to his friend—“no nor yon either, Susan! A good deal more came into my head, on the way home; it’s nothing that costs a great deal, and I mean, this once, to try if I can’t have a real pleasure of my own making.” “I think it is a sign of luck,”she said, “ that you are able to come now, at Christmas. And I’m tempted to give up everything else, and take you home with mo in tho buggy.” “ Susan!” cried the one who sat beside her. “No, Evan!” she answered in a soft voice, “ I didn’t really mean it. But I am not used to keeping secrets from them at home. It has been very hard to say 'nothing about the money for three years, and you know what has been harder still. Now that my waiting is so near over, I think I could better bear it longer than the uncertainty between now and to-morrow night.” “ Come, now, Susan! ” said the first. “ Since you’ve helped me to pull through my trouble, don’t you suppose I mean to see you squarely to the end of yours ? Evan, you didn’t carry me off the field on yonr back, at Chancellorsville, for nothing! Get down out of that buggy! She’ll make you as nervous as she is herself. I won’t have it, I tell you. Susan, take a look at this horse, so that you’ll recognize him when you see him a second time!” Thereupon he led his horse up and down on the turf —a tall, strong-limbed bay, with a large, obedient, intelligent eye. “ Oh, what a nice fellow! ” cried Susan, who had a correct instinct of the value of a horse, without being able to describe bis points technically. “Evan knows why I show him off,” said lie, and both men burst into a laugh. It was amazing what a weight seemed to roll off Susan’s mind, simply beeause they laughefl. “Evan will take charge of me tonight,” he continued, “and Evan and I have gone into partnership— as drovers.” Here they laughed again, more heartily than ever. “But it’s time for us to go; the—zebra—no, antelope will be ready by this time.” “Evan, what does he mean?” cried Susan; but Evan, after a hasty parting kiss, perhaps two so combined as to mean one, had lightly sprung to the ground. The two men mounted their horses.

“ One thing more! ” said the first, as they were ready to leave. “By Jove, I was near forgetting it. Susan, whatever happens at home early to-morrow morning, don’t be astonished! No matter what it is, I am at the bottom of it.” It was cruel, she thought, to leave her such an enigma as a parting gift. But they were gone; it was impossible to ask anything, and useless to conjecture. There had always been a whimsical imp of mischief in him, she remembered; but she knew his honesty, generosity and manliness of nature, as none of the family, and she was satisfied that he meant something kind and good. So she drove back to the village in altogether brighter spirits, made her purchases at the store, and hastened homeward to be in time for the early supper. Lydia’Maria was in waiting, as usual, at the gate of the front yard. “Oh, the land! ” she exclaimed, as Susan drove up, “why did you put the top down ?” Susan started, looking at the buggy, and blushed with almost a feeling of guilt, as she stammered, “It was so—so hot.” “Hot?” Lydia Maria’s face took on a mingled expression of alarm and command. “Child, that’s fever! Come right into the house; the kettle’s boiling and I’ll have camomile tea in five minutes. Where’s my ribbon?—and the four skeins, dark gray?—and the cotton wadding?” “I’m afraid I forgot the ribbon,” said Susan, faintly. “ Forgot ? No, ’tisn’t possible. Affection of tho brain—the first sign of typhus!” Susan fell into a fit of mingled laughing and crying that was more like hysterics than anything she had ever known in her life. But she succeeded, by a mighty effort, in concealing the crying part of it from Lydia Maria; she controlled her relieved nerves, exevted herself to think naturally and cheerfully, and soon removed her sister’s suspicion of typhus. They had been seated some little time in the comfor'able kitchen, when the latter all at ©nee said: “You don’t seem to notice anything?” “Oh, the turkey!” cried Susan. “How much bigger he is than I thought!” “Not bigger than I thought—it’s mine. Jerry meant to give his, but we settled that I should have my turn this year.” “Liddy-Maria! You don’t say eo? Why it’s a good omen!” “ I should hope so,” Lydia gravely answered. But she had no idea what Susan meant.

IH. The first broad, rosy flush of a mild and sunny Christmas day had scarcely appeared in the east, when the members of the Lane family left their beds, kindled the fires in the dusky rooms, and entered upon the duties of the day. It was their old habit; Jerry looked after the stook, one daughter milked the cows while tjw other prepared break*

RENSSELAER, JASPER COUNTY, INDIANA, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20,1878.

fast, and old Gideon Lane, now a man of 70, enjoyed half an hour of comfortable idleness in hiA&ickoiy arm-chuirin the sitting-room. It was Susan’s turn to milk; bat when the time came she begged Lydia Maria to take her place. She had not slept well, and was suffering from a alight headache, she said—which was* indeed, the exact truth; for during the night she had risen from her bed, opened the back-door and admitted two men, who bore a bulky object to the parlor, where it was silently deposited. The key of the room was in Snsaai’s pocket; everything was safe, so far; but the fear of being detected dui> ing the act, and the sleeplessness which followed, had taken away a little of her tohuat strength. If she had aj> peared too flushed the previous day, die was too pale now; and Lydia Maria tried to remember whether this was another symptom of the typhus. As the red of the dawn brightened into clear gold, and the clumps of bare ash and maple trees along the edges of the meadow began to (letaeh themselves from the dark, formless mass of the landscape, Jeremiah stood at the stabledoor. Looking at the sky, he remarked to himself that it was going to be a beautiful day; the cold, sweet air toueketf his palate and suggested, beyond the, coming breakfast, ts e cheer of the lata* dinner; he felt glad that it was Christmas. His proposal, the afternod|i;l)e-i tore, although postponed by Ljwia YlJ* ria’s elder authority, nevertheless satisfied his sense of justice; Susan henceforth should not always give them the holiday, but they would take turns in giving it to her. Jeremiah’s brain worked slowly, and with many variations hither and thither; hut it generally fell into the right groove at lafet. He threw open the door and entered the stable. He first put his hand, according to old habit, upon the back of Harry, the near plow-horse; but, surely, that was not Harry’s back? It was nearly a hand higher, and the hide had a different quality. Utterly bewildered, he groped his way, in the dark stable, to the head of. the animal; the stiff, smooth leather betrayed, to his touch, a new halter. H a untied the rein, led the horse—more by instinct than by reasoning—.out of the stable, and, lo! there was a new creature, a stalwart, strong-limbed bay, with large, intelligent eyes! Jeremiah was so astounded at this phenomenon that he stood dumb, thunder-struck. The horse sniffed at him curiously, and then he first noticed a piece of paper attached to the headstall. He tore it off, and read these words, in a large, awkward, unknown hand: “My name is Bob; I belong to Jeremiah Lane! ” What Jeremiah said, must not be written. The words were forced out of him by surprise, but they had a profane rather than a pious sound. He meant no harm by them—quite the reverse; he was awkward in the use of interjections, because so many of them were prohibited by the custom of the neighborhood. I have no doubt that he did the best he could, under the circumstances, and the Recording Angel, instead of blotting it out with a tear, did not even think it necessary to write it down. Jeremiah’was aroused out of his stuSor by a piercing scream from Lydia [aria. This was a thing which had not happened for many years, and it came upon him (as he afterward said) “like a. streak o’ lightning.” “Jerry!—oh, Jerry, do come here!” The tone in which she uttered the words denoted great surprise— possibly, anguish. He rushed into the stable, hurriedly fastened the halter of the stranger “ Bob,” and leaped across the passage which separated the horses’ stables from the cows’, asking, while on the way: “ What’s the matter, LiddyMaria? ” “ Oh, Jerry, just look at that!” Bhe answered. But now her voice was faint and weak. She stood in the stable, beside the cow, with her milkpail on the litter, held firmly between her rigid feet. “ Look at what ? ” said he; but, even as she spoke, he saw, indistinctly, that the familiar cow, spot, had shrunk ’in her proportions; that her dappled red and white sides had changed into an even, dim mouse-color; that her horns had grown short, and her muzzle slender. “ Well, Ell be ” he began, but did not finish the sentence. “Who is she? How did she come here ? ” cried Lydia Maria. “ The minute I took hold of her, to milk, I felt that it wasn’t Spot. But she held still; she turned around and looked at me, and I could see her big eyes in the dark! And then, somehow, I got frightened. I’m all of a tremble! ” “ Let’s have a look at her! ” said Jeremiah, leading the cow from the stable into the barn-yard. The dawn had meanwhile brightened, and each object began to take its proper color and distance. The beauty of the creature was clearly recognized by both. “ An Alderney—just what I’ve always wanted! ” said Lydia Maria. Jeremiah took from the left horn a crumpled label, smoothed it out, and read: “My name is Polly; I belong to Lydia Maria Lane.” “Did anybody ever?” was all the spinster could say. “I see how it'is,” said Jeremiah, after a moment’s reflection. “I’ve found a new horse in my stable; they’re both meant to be Christmas gifts. But that doesn’t make it any easier to guess.” “ Susan ? ” suggested Lydia Maria. “ No—not by any means! ” said her brother. “If William wasn’t in such a fix (father’s heard all about it!) out in Colorado, it would be like him —but the more I think on it the more I don’t know what to make of it.” “ Call father! ” Jeremiah finally commanded. So old Gideon Lane was summoned to the bam. The other cows narrowly escaped being left unmilked, and the other horses unfed, while the4wo acquisitions were turned about and examined in the early* snnhght, and the most hopeless conjectures made in regard to the source from which they came. When, finally, they returned to the house, they found Susan rather impatient. The bountiful breakfast was getting cold.

She was not so surprised as they expected on hearing the wonderful news, but she astonished them afl by suddenly bursting into tears and trying out: “ And lam theonly one who gets no Christmas gift this year! ” “ Never mind, never mind,” said her father, patting her kindly upon the shoulder; “we must try and find something for you, too, Susan.” “Father,” she answered, “there only one Idling you oan give m<”

“A Firm Adherence to Correct Principles.”

(Gideon nothing, but they nwfre all struck by an unusual gentleness in’lfis voidej as they sat' at breakfast together. IV. Susan did her share of the household work with a feverish haste; then, leaving Lydia Maria to prepare the “ stuffing” for the tnfcbey, me slipped into the parlor, kindled a fire in the stove and opened the shutters. What she next difi would have excited a suspicion of insanity had it been observed by any of the family. But she was certain that her father and brother had gone again to the bar®, and, as she peered forth from the window of the upper gablexoom, there was nothing in sight except a covered vehicle on the road, half a mile away. Susan hung a large towel (or it may a sheet) from the window, and let it slowly wave back and forth against the brick wall. In a few minutes her keen eyes detected something hire an answering signal from the approaching vehicle. Thereupon she hastened to her room, slipped on her best dark silk dress, gave the last light, quick touches M her hair and ribbons, ; and went down pitairs. Jeremiah had harnessed the horse, ..and was about lo drive .to the village with his father abut Susan called them |both into the Vhseilse, and summoned R Lydia Maria from tne kitchen. Her appearance, the suppressed excitement in her face, and something strange in the tono-of her voice, aroused their keenest curiosity, but, as neither knew what to say, they all waited for her to speak. “ Colne into the parlor, please!” she stammered, leading the way. The room Was warm and sunny; the fire crackled and hummed in the stove, the saucer of violets perfumed the air, and, in the coziest place that could have been picked out, stood—the third astonishment of the day. It was an arm-chair of massive oak, cushioned and padded with leather, with adjustable supports for the head and feet, and an extra arm, large enough to hold a book and newspaper, turning on a hinge—in short, the perfection of solid workmanship and physical comfort. “ This is yours, father!” said Susan, playfully pushing him into the seat. Gideon, taken by surprise, sank down, and did not immediately rise. He had reached the age when he could wholly appreciate such a luxury, and there seemed to be no end to the delight of trying this or that quality, and finding nothing wanting. Then Jeremiah tried the chair, and finally Lydia Maria; and thus fully ten minutes passed before any one thought of asking: “Where did yon get it, Susan ? ” and, “ How under the sun was it brought into the house ? ” “ It’s not my gift, father,” she said; “ it comes from somebody else.” “Not” Gideon began; but he hesitated to speak the name in his mind. The outer door opened and shut; somebody had entered without knocking. The next moment a bright-faced, sun-bnrnt, bearded man, of 35, appeared in the parlor. “ William! ” they all cried in chorus. “ Yes, father,” said the younger son, heartily shaking old Gideon’s hand. He gave Jeremiah a cordial grasp, kissed Lydia Maria and Susan, threw off his over-coat, and cheerfully announced : “ I’ve come to eat my Christmas dinner with you.” “Ha!—my horse Bob! "cried Jeremiah. “ And my cow Polly! ” cried Lydia Maria. “ And this arm-chair! ” Gideon added ; “it must have cost a power o’ money.” “ Never mind how much! ” said William, laughing. “ I can easily afford it —thanks to Susan and Evan Powell.” Lydia Maria became rigid. “ Susan and”— she could not bring herself to pronounce the name. Gideon looked perplexed, and even a little abashed. We will take advantage of their surprise and expectant silence, and relate as much as is necessary of William’s history. Gideon, from the start, had been bitterly opposed to the war, and he secretly every disaster to the UniM arms. Hence lie couM have felt no sorer wound than the enlistment of his son William inflicted on his nature. William’s inseparable school-friend was Evaft PoweH, whose father was a staunch Union man, and who volunteered at the first call made by Abraham Lincoln. It was ffot long before William followed ; but the two were not much tof ether during the war. William became 'irst Lieutenant, while Evan rose only to he Sergeant Major; but the former was sent home severely wounded, early in the fourth year of the struggle. The long and careful nursing he required was an additional grievance to the father; and still more so the announcement that he would be unfitted for farm labor, and must find some other way of living. Tjje end of it was that William went to Colorado; where his health improved so rapidly, and the active life of a pioneer so readily adapted itself to his nature, that he had remained there ever since; Gideon Lane, if the exact truth could be known, had probably outlived his political grievance against William. Three years before, however, the latter had written to his father, giving the details of an extensive venture which he had made in building-lots at Denver and Colorado Springs. He clearly saw his way to fortune, if —and this was a fateful contingency—he could get possession of $3,000 or $4,000 more. Now, this was very nearly the sum which his father had saved during a lifetime of severe economy, and invested in “first liens ” upon property which he knew. It was like asking the old man to tear out his heart and hand it over on a plate. He refused, in terms which expressed his surprise" and wrath, and William had not written again. Susan was the only member of the family with whom he kept up a correspondence. Y. William’s beaming, happy face seemed to double the sunshine in the parlor. Gideon Lane also was happy, for of late years he had not been at all easy in his mind in regard to his treatment of his youngest son and daughter. Evan Powell and Susan were lovers, and as faithfully betrothed to each other as was possible, while one of the families was determined to prevent it. Jeremiah had never said much, one way or the other, but Gideon had despotically forbidden all intercourse, and Lydia Maria, beginning with the declaration: “Not while IliYsl°h*4 ftU. and mpre

rthan all, of the authority which had come to her by inheritance from their dead mother. Evan was a farmer also, bat his father was poor, and he was one of many children. Both he and Susan felt that it might be better to wait a few years rather than to begin married life with a double cloud banging over them. “Sit down, Lydia Maria! Sit down, Jeremiah!” cried William, taking a chair himself. “ Father, there’s no use in keeping things hidden, when their telling will do no harm. We’ve always been too close, in our family; we make trouble where we shouldn’t, and keep it longer than we peed to.” “ Maybe so,” murnrared'Gideon Lane, leaning back in his cushioned seat. “ When You wouldn’t let me have the money,” William continued, “ I had to do what would have been wicked if I had failed in my plans. I borrowed from Susan lier sh&re of Aunt Ruth’s estate —with several years’ interest and all her little savings added, $1,800.” “ So that was the mystery .about aianaging her own affairs and looking for better security! ” cried Lydia Maria. “ Then I turned to Evan Powell. He was working hard and laying up —you all know the reason of it—-and he sent me about as much more. I had hard work to pull through and save my ehanceiS; but it’s dorte, now—well done and safely. Why, they call me a rich “I suppose you can well afford to make such famous Christmas gifts,” said his father. “But why didn’t you bring something for Susan ?” “I don’t want ” —Susan began to pro* test, but William stopped her. He was abaut to speak, but Suddenly turned, went to the western window of the room, pulled aside' the muslin curtain which hung before it, and waved his hand as if beckoning to some one outside. The others were too preoccupied to take much notice of this movement. Susan, however, grew quite pale. “ I have brought something for Susan, father,” William went on to say; “ I have it in my pocket.” He took out a heavy, folded paper, which had an official look about it. “ Oh, I see; her money.” “This is an agreement with John Perkins to sell me his farm, at $l2O an acre.” “ Why, William! ” Gideon cried out; “ are you able to buy it?” “ Oh, yes,” said William, with a hearty, careless air of independence which made a profound impression upon the family; “I could buy three or four like it. But I don’t want it for myself; I have bought it for Susan.” Now it was Susan’s turn to be surprised. She caught her breath, and trembled so that she seemed to be on the point of falling. “ It’s so convenient, father—there’s only the road between it and your farm. I thought it would make such a nice home . for her, and so I intend her to have it, but in a different name. As soon as the deed can be legally made out for Susan Powell she shall be the owner—but not before.” “Oh, William! ” she murmured. “ Yes,” William continued, with the cheerfullest possible air; “I mean exactly what I say. I think you three have stood in the way of Susan’s happiness long enough. And you can’t deny that Evan has acted like a man; I ask you, therefore, to show it by receiving him as a man. He is waiting at the door.” William turned toward his father, and looked him steadily in the face. The old man made two or three visible efforts to speak, and when he succeeded his voice sounded strange and husky. He only said: “Bring him in.” But Jeremiah, without waiting for the words, was already at the outer door. “ Gome in, Evan!” he said, giving him a strong grip of the hand; “ I am glad to see you here.” Evan Powell entered the parlor; a single glance was exchanged between him and William Lane, and he understood the situation. He walked straight to the old man’s chair and offered liis hand, which was taken. Susan, acting wholly from the impulse of the moment, yet doing exactly the thing she should have done, took her father’s other hand. The old man held them bpth, looked up at their faces, and said, with a singular, quivering smil#: “ Ylhi do seem tolerably well suited to each other.” It was too much for Susan; she kissed her, father, then threw her arms around Evan’s neck, laid her head upon kk shoulder, and wept to her heart’s content.

In another minute tears were running down the old man’s cheeks. Jeremiah and William walked to separate windows, and gazed steadily through the panes; while Lydia Maria, with a comer of her apron pressed to her eyes, extended a hand to Evan and said, “I reckon it’s one of the things that have to be! ” William came back to the group with a flashing face. He had caught the tact in which the others were lacking, and easily removed the embarrassment which still clothed them as with a garment, by telMng where and bow he had found the horse and cow, and how cunningly he and Evan had introduced them into tfieir several stables the night before. The arm-chair required Susan’s aid; but in all other matters connected with the gifts of the day, including the purchase of John Perkins’ farm, she was entirely innocent. Evan Powell contributed his share of talk and joke, and it was amazing how swiftly the old unfriendly feeling wore away. All at once Lydia Maria sprung np with a suppressed scream. “Oh, Lord!” she cried—and it was the first, last and only time in her life when s#e was known to be guilty of such a reprehensible exclamation—“Oh, Lord! my turkey, my turkey! ” Well, it must be confessed that the turkey was too brown on one side and too pale on the other; that it was dryer than it should have been, and showed various other slight defects which sent anguish into Lydia Maria’s soul; bat'to the six persons who partook of it that day, at dinner, it was simply a mixture of white and dark ambrosia of the gods. No Christmas turkey, on the table of a country house, ever did taste, ever will, or ever can taste, better than that one.

The Looks of Him.

“ Who was it rang, Bridget? ” “ It was a man, mum.” “ What was his name ? ” “ I don’t know, mam. He asked for yer husban’, mam, and he is not gone home.” “ What kind of a looking man was he?” “ Sure, mam, he was a*—he was red headed, an’lie had predicament in his ipache, mam 1 ”

THURMAN ON BLAIAE.

Speech of the Ohio Senator, Delivered in the United States Senate. Mb. President : I attempted to offer that amendment before the Senator from Maine proceeded with his remarks, but failed to have any opportunity to do so. I intended then to say that, whatever opinion might be entertained on this side of the chamber as to the competency of Congress to make all the investigations that these resolutions contemplate, yet we were disposed te waive all scruples of that character and suffer the resolutions to pass without opposition, if the amendment now proposed* should be added to them. The Senator from Maine, however, having a speech carefully studied and prepared, exercised his right to deliver that speech before any amendment could be offered. Ido not complain of tnat at all, nor do I now rise to make any extended reply to the speech that I have heard just now. Should this debate be protracted I may exercise my privilege of saying something in reply to the Senator from Maine, but to-day I shall confine myself to a very few general observations. The Senator is frank in one thing—his resolution is broad. It includes all the States. It provides for an investigation whether the rights of American citizens in connection with the eleotiye franchise have been violated *br mtorfered with in any of the States, but ho frankly admits in the Very outset of his remarks that that was not his purposes, that his purpose was to assail ftie Democracy of the South. He had two purposes in preparing a carefully elaborated speech—not to vindicate the right of suffrage throughout this whole Union, but to inquire whether the Democracy of the Southern States had violated the rights of American citizens, and then to find out what should be done with them. Now, Mr. President, that is a very frr.nk, and, I have no doubt, a very true statement of tho animus of this resolution. Mr. President. I Bald there might be some doubts as to tho propriety of this investigation. I repeat it There may be sucb doubts, especially to-day. Here is the short session of Congress. We have, excluding the recess that wo always take, less, perhaps, than two months within which to dispose of the appropriation bills and other measures of legislation that necessarily require the attention of Congross if the business of the session is to be disposed of and no extra session is to lie called. And now, sir, the Senator proposes an investigation that I defy any committee that can be found to make, with anything like thoroughness—nay in any satisfactory manner, with anything like justness, either to those who are implicated or those who may be implicated—within the time that remains of the session of the Senate. It is an impossibility. I have therefore wondered why this resolution was introduced unless it was to be made a string upon which to haDg speeches to arouse sectional hatred in one portion of this Union against an almost defenseless people in another portion of the Union. Now, Mr. President, this assault of the Senator from Maine is not an assault simply upon the people of the South. I said five months ago in a speech, which I beg pardon for repeating here, that it did seem to me as clear as anything in American politics could be that there was a de-liberately-formed purpose under the pretext that there was a solid South to create a solid North to rule not only the solid South, but to rule one-half nearly, if not more, of the people of tho North. I thought so then—l think so now. I thought then, and I think now, that a purpose more unpatriotic, more unjust, more fraught with ruin to this country, never entered the brain of man. That is my belief. Why, Mr. President, of what is it that the Senator of Maine complains? That there were not enough Republican votes at the South. That is the amount of it. And how does he make that out? He assumes, without one shadow of truth produced here, that tho negroes of the South were prevented from voting, or forced to vote the Democratic ticket. He assumes, therefore, that owing to these causes the negroes of the South are not represented by members of the House of Representatives who come from that section of the Union, or by Senators on this floor who represent the Southern States. What right has the Senator from Maine to say that tho negroes of the South are not represented by chosen Representatives of the South and chosen Senators of the South ? What right has he to vote those negroes on one side himself, and say the men who bear credentials of election do not represent their constituents ? Why, Mr. President, it is a bare assumption on his part that lie has no right to make. But, again, the Senator ought to liave thought of this when he was framing his Fourteenth and Fifteeenth amendments, or when he was assisting in framing them. There were men then—men of his own party, too—who told him with long foresight that'in the end property and intelligence will rule the land, and ignorance cannot. Mr. President, there wore men of his party who foresaw that those people who have the intelligence, the education, and property will not be rilled by those who have neither, and in that it is not necessary to separate the community into white people and colored people; not at all is it necessary to do that. No, Mr. President, the result of these constitutional amendments was easy enough to be foreseen. lam not here today to justify the violation of the rights of any man, however humble he may be, or whatever may be the poverty of his situation. lam here for no such purpose as that. If I know my own heart, I am here as much in favor of respecting the rights of every man under the constitution as the Senator from Maine or any other Senator on this floor. But I do know that property, intelligence, and education will assert their supremacy everywhere on the face of this globe. Now, Mr. President, let me say one word more on this subject. *¥ho was it that drew the color-line between the whites and negroes in tho South? Let me toll you. sir, that millions of money of tho people of the United States were expended by your agent*—the Freedman’s Bureau agents—ln getting every colored man tho South into loyal leagues and swearing them never to vote for a Democrat. That is where the color-line began to be drawn. That institution which took charge of tho negro at the ballot-box took charge of him in the cottonfields—everywhere—supervised every contract he made, allowedfno contract to be made unless it had the approval of the agents of the Freedman’s Bureau, and spent money and property called “captured and abandoned property’’ that was surrendered to it and many millions of money directly appropriated out of the treasury of the United States. It was that bureau and its agents who first drew the color-line. And yet, when the white people of the South, when the men owning the property and having the intelligence and education of the South, saw their very social system menaced with destruction; saw their very households threatened with ruin under an inundation of barbarism directed by the most unscrupulous of men; and, when they naturally came together, when they naturally united, as people menaced with danger ever will unite, then a cry is raised against the “ solid South.” Oh, Mr. President, it will not do. This system of legislation toward the South that began ten years ago is reaping its fruit, and it is not by additional penal laws mat you can better the condition of this country. What does the Senator want more penal laws for? Let him look into the statute-book on this very subject. Let him read tho statutes in regard to the enforcement of the rights of citizens to vote, and I defy him to find in the statute-books of any civilized country on this globe a body of laws bo minute, so searching, and bristling all over with penalties and fines and forfeitures as do these laws. But that is not aIL In addition to that you have the vast machinery of Superintendents of Elections, Federal Supervisors, Marshals, Deputy Marshals—paid electioneers out of the treasury of the United States under the guise of being men to preserve the freedom of suffrage and the peace at elections. Son have a whole army of them provided for by your statutes. What more does th, Senator want? I think I see, Mr. President what is wanted. I think this is a note which is sounded to the people of the North that they must retrace their steps, and this very party, which required the amendments to the constitution to be made in the interest, it was said, of the colored population of the South, is now preparing to face about, retrace its steps, and undo what it did only a few years ago, either directly or by indirection. Indeed, I thought while the Senator from Maine was making his speech how much reason this country, and especially the southern part of the country, had to congratulate ifaelf that the next House of Representatives will not have a majority of gentlemen thinking like the Senator from Maine; for, if he is right in what he said; if his threats are not mere idle wind (and 1 certainly do not attribute any such thing to him); if they are the deep-seated* and permanent thoughts of those with whom he acts, then I should be prepared to see a House of Representatives in which there was a Republican majority exclude Southern members by the score; then I should have been prepared to see them decide themselves that the right of suffrage was prohibited down there to the negro, and then to see them in their supreme authority, as they would oonztrue it, vote out the ohosen Representatives of the Boutb-=-not by ones, not by twos, bnt by the score, It is a

$1.50 dot Annum.

NUMBER 45.

fortunate thing for this country—it is a fortunate thing for our free institutions—that there is not in the present House of Representatives, and will not be in the next, a majority thinking as the Senator from Maine thinks, and willing to act as he is willing to act. Mr. President, one word on the amendment have offered It is my own belief that there is a far greater danger that menaces our institutions, and menaces the rights of suffrage in this country, than that to -which the Senator from Maine has alluded. Sir, the most disheartening thing to an American who loves free institutions is to see that year by year the corrupt use of money in elections is making its way, until the time may come, and that within the observation of even the oldest man here, when elections in the United States will be as debauched as ever they were in the worst days of borough Parliamentary elections in the mother land. Mr. President, there is the greatest danger. The danger is whether this country shall be governed with a view to the rights of every man, tho poor man as well as the rich man, or whether the largest purse shall carry elections, and thus be a mere plutocracy instead of a democratic republic. That is the danger, and that danger, let me tell my friend, exists far more in tho North than in the South. Sir, if he wants to E reserve the purity of elections; if he wants to ave this Government perpetuated as a system that can be honostly administered from the primary election to the signature of a bill by the President, let him set his face toward and exercise his great ability in stopping the floodgates of corruption that threaten to deluge the whole land and bring republican institutions into ntter ruin and disgrace. Mr. President, there is one thing that mado me doubt a little as. to the propriety of this resolution, although, as I said, I am going to vote for It, and what the Senator from Maine has said has added to the great doubt which I entertained on that subject, and that is that I am not ouite sure there are not persons who favor this kind of resolution, and as much debate upon it as you can have, and as much investigation as you can have, in order to divert public attention from tho real questions which ought to ongage tho Congress of tho United States—questions of economy, questions of finance, questions of government—all are shoved aside tliat popular speeches may be made, tending to excite one section of the people against another, and to sot their minds mad with passion instead of appealing to tlioir cool and deliberate reason. I certainly do not charge the Senator from Maine with having got this up for the purpose of putting aside and throwing out of view that wbioh should form the subject of our thoughts and of our legislation, but I fear that such may be in some men’s minds one of the things to be de- ! sired by such a resolution.

Six Men Killed by a Boiler Explosion.

The boiler explosion at the coal works of Iteid Bros., near Uniontown, Pa., was a horrible affair. Two men were instantly killed, and one died within an hour. Their names were Richard Evans, J. J. Miller, and Daniel McGarvey. Three more, John Mowey, Joseph Vayone, and Morgan McGill, died the next day. John Dougherty, the pit boss, was seriously hurt, both externally and internally, and his recovery is considered improbable. Seven other men are suffering from wounds, scalds, and bums, but none of them are thought to be fatally injured. The disaster occurred in this way: Eight men were on the roof the boilerhouse, and, with the assistance of a number below, were erecting a new smokestack. The steam, penetrating through the roof, annoyed the men above, and Vayone, the yard boss, ordered the escape valve to be closed. This was done, and within two minutes the boiler exploded with terrific force. Daniel McGarvey, the engineer, was thrown 100 feet in the air and 150 feet distant, into an adjoining field. He alighted on his head in a beaten-clay foot path, in which his head half buried itself. The force of the fall ruptured his abdomen. John Mowey was scalded to death. His flesh was cooked. Richard Evans was killed by a bar of iron striking him across the forehead and imbedding itself in his brain. The boiler was torn into shreds. Hardly a fragment as large as a man’s hat could be found. Of the boiler-house nothing could be found, except here and there a stick of wood. The general demolition could not have been more complete. With the exception of McGarvey, all the killed leave large families.

A Christmas Puzzle.

Let the person whose name you wish to know tell you in which of the upright columns the first letter of his name is found. If it be found in but one column, it is the top letter; if it occurs in in more than one column, it is found by adding the alphabetical numbers of the top letters of these columns, and the sum will be the letter sought. By taking one letter at a time in this way the whole name can be ascertained a n d H p C C E I Q EFF.TR O G G K 8 I J L L T K K M M U M N N N V o o o o w Q R T X X S- 8 U Y Y U V V Z Z WWW Y Z For example, take the word Jane. J is found in the two columns commencing with B and H, which are the seoond and eighth letters down the alphabet; their sum is ten, and the tenth letter down the alphabet is J, the letter sought. The next letter, A, appears in but one column, where it stands at the top. N is seen in the columns headed B, D and H; these are the second, fourth and eighth letters of the alphabet, which added give the fourteenth, or N, and so on. The use of this table will excite no little curiosity among those unacquainted with the foregoing explanation.

The Merry Season.

Christmas never grows old. The beautiful legends clustering around the name are fresh to young ears, and the old listen as to familiar tales that grow more charming with every recital. Each year as Christmas-tide comes near we realize how curiously blended are old memories and youthful feelings. They do not interfere with each other, and the union is very beautiful. Christmas day, now regarded as the conventional, not the true, date of the birth of Christ, was celebrated in very early times, although the origin of the special festivities of the day is obscure. But its celebration seems to spring from a spontaneous and widespread desire to commemorate an event so important. Many popular Christmas customs doubtless had their source in the age prior to Christ—a fact which will make some of them more easily understood. But kindliness, generous charity, and grateful joy are the feelings which the very name of .Christmas inspires. Christmas saw old wrongs forgiven, Friends long parted reconciled. ******* Many a one that night was merry Who had toiled through all the year. ******* Joy and plenty in the cottage, Peace and feasting in the hall, And the voices of the children Ringing clear above it all.

A special commission in Russia, under the Presidency of Maj. Gen. Clink, are to find out and punish all members of civil and military service implicated in the cqipmissariat embezzlements of the last w»|, Hundreds have been arrested. ""

gjmocratiq §£mtinet JOB PRIMTINB OFFICE Hm better TaeQltlea than any office In KorUureeten Indiana for the executien of all branchea of JOB PRINTING. PROMPTNESS A SPECIALTY. Anything, from a Dodger to a Priee-Ltat, orfMoa a Pamphlet to a Porter, black or oolored, plain or fancy, SATISFACTION GUARANTEED.

A MERRY CHRISTMAS. The words are blithe and full of cheer; They never pall on any hearer, But, borne along from year to year. From year to year sound ever dearer. And yet we know the words are vain; We know the season w v*t be merry, When those long severed meet again Below the white and scarlet berry; When small but mirth-compelling jokes Are heard from every nook and corner; When on the board plum-pudding smokes Attended by Uie Pie of Horner; When kissing shall by favor go, And Age declare it only folly Tliat Youth resorts to mistletoe, And lovely Woman stoops to holly; When old and young and middle-aged— Three generations all commingle; The widowed, wedded, fresh-engaged. And, last and least, the many single. “Merry?”—When all around is bright? “Merry?”—Ay, marry; now or never. The churl that cannot laugh to night May give the habit up forever. One week in all the ftfty-two Is little time to give to laughter; Come, join the revel, cynic, do! Although a cynic ever after. Come, choose a seasonable strain To lit the jolly days before us; And shout we all, with might and main—“A Merry Christmas I ” is tho chorus.

WIT AND HUMOR.

Fresh dates —Calendars for 1879. An upright trade—the bolus-trade. A GALLOWS old boy—The hangman. A letter writer—The proof reader. Not one of the seven ages —Mucilage. Did you ever see an ear-sighted man V A type setter—A printer with no legs. A lone association —An old maid’s club. Send along your big apples! On core! On core! “To what base uses do we come at last,” as the shingle said to the upturned boy. Yottng man, in beginning a courtship be sure you don’t write, and then go ahead. A dilapidated hat is usually the most comfortable for winter wear, because it’s stove in. It seems rather odd to see two men playing seven-up for a dinner that is to be eiglit-up. “What arc you cutting at there, you dolt?” Cried a tinner to his man. “Can anything be as dumb as you?” Quoth be, “an oyster can.” Ani> all the mellow Christmas bells Clash their wild tunes upon the air. And, gathering in melodious swells, Wake the white echoes everywhere. If women are really angels, why don't they fly over a fence instead of making such a fearfully awkward job of climbing? A man has recently invented an apparatus for arresting and extinguishing sparks. Are the girls going to stand that? A shrewd-looking old turkey gobbler walked into a drug store in this city, the other day, and called for a bottle of “anti-fat.”— Sioux City Journal. ’Tis joy that lighteth.on and wags The canine continuity; But, when grimalkin’s finis flaps, It means a superfluity Of wrath, and you can’t kick too Boon. Tonker a (fazetle. “ Doctor, doctor,” panted a messenger, “come down the street—quick! There’s a man dropped in a fit!” “In an apoplectic?” questioned the doctor. “No, sir; he’s in an ulster,” answered the messenger. A sewing-machine agent, who was very ill, being told that lie must prepare to pay the debt of nature, wanted to know if it couldn’t be paid on the monthly-installment plan.— Cincinnati Saturday Night. “ Talk about serving God,” said old Mr. Slaughdecker; “if some men serve God as they do the balance of their acquaintances, their prospects won’t be much improved by a removal from their present state to a future one.” “Do eagles give milk, mother?” asked the boy,. “No, my son; what what made you think so ? ” “ Because I’ve heard of the eagle’s scream.” The mother reached for her slipper, but the embryo paragrapher had vanished. Somebody asks: “ Did you ever see a knee grow ? ” Certainly; when we dislocated our knee, we saw a knee grow with* a good deal of solicitude. We have also seen an egress. When you have a hard one, son, let us hear from you again. Brethren, before we sing the next verse of “ John Brown’s body lies all moldy in the grave,” let us take a look into the grave and see that it is there. In these days of Ohio medical colleges a cemetery isn’t no safer than a savings bank, and it may be that political gleoclubs, who have been singing the song quoted above, have been chanting a rhythmic lie for the post fifteen years.— Burlington Hawk-Eye. Ring out the knell on the wintry air— A requiem dirge for the young and fair ■Who met u» with love one year ago. But who aleep to day, lonely and low. King out the knell of the vanished hours, Clouded sunshine, and withered flowers, Beauty and bloom, that have faded all; Ring out the knell—let the tear drops fall. Ring out the knell of the dead and gone— The young and lovely, many a one— The mother, brother or sister fond, Gone, with the year, to the “land beyond." Many a friend we shall meet no more Has gone, at last, to the “other shore;” Many a flower has felt the frost; The earth is fresh o'er the loved and lost. Let the knell ring out—the year is past, Its deeds are done, and its lots are east; All, all is gone, and beyond recall— Let the night come down and the shadows fall.

The Tallest Tree In tlie World. The tallest accurately-measured Sequoia standing in the Calaveras grove, near Stockton, Cal., measures 325 feet, and there is no positive evidence that any trees of this genus ever exceeded that height. Of late years, explorations in Gippsland, Victoria, have brought to light some marvelous specimens of Eucalyptus, and the State Surveyor of Forests measured a fallen tree on the banks of the Watts river, and found it to be 435 feet from the roots to the top of the trunk. The crest of this tree was broken off, but the trunk at the fracture was 9 feet in circumference, and the height of the tree when growing was estimated to have been 500 feet. This tree, however, was dead, though there is no doubt that it was far loftier than the tallest Sequoia. Near Femshaw, in the Daudenong district, Victoria, there has recently been discovered a specimen of the “ almond-leaf gum ” (.Eucalyptus amygdalelsia), measuring 380 feet from the ground to the first branch, and 450 feet to the topmost wing. This tree would overtop the tallest living Sequoia by 125 feet. Its girth is 80 feet, which is less than that of many Sequoias, but, as far as height is concerned, it must be considered tb tallest living tree in the world. —ScV tlflo Anwriwn,