Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 May 1885 — Page 6

THE OLD SONG. BT OLIVES WENDELL HOMES. The minstrel of the classic Ist Of love and wine who sings Stdl found the fingers run astray That touched the rebel strings. Of Cadmus he would fain have sung. Of Atrons and line: But all the jocund echoes rung With songs of love and wine. Ah, brothers! I would fain have caught Some fresher fancy's gleam. My trua t accents find unsought, The old familiar theme. Love. Love! but not the sportive child With shaft and twanging bow. Whose random arrows drove us wild Some three score years ago. Not Eros, with his joyous laugh. The urchin blind and bare, at Love, with spectacle and staff And scanty, silvered hair. Our heads with frosted locks are white, Our roofs are thatched with snow, But red, in chilling winter’s spite. Our hearts and hearthstones glow. Our old acquaintance, Time, drops in, And while the running sands Their golden thread unheeded spin, He warms his frozen hands. Stay, winged hours, too swift, too sweet, And waft this message o’er To all we miss, irom all we meet, On life's fast crumbling shore: Say that to old affection true We hug the narrowing chain That binds our hearts—alas, how few The links that yet remain! The fatal touch awaits them all That turns the rocks to dust; From year to year they break and fall— They break, but never rust. bay if one note of happier strain This worn-out harp afford— One throb that trembles, not in vain— Their memory lent its chord. Say that when Fancy closed her wings And l’assion quenched his lire, Love, Love, still echoed from the strings As irom Anacreon's lyre! —Atlantic.

A LEAP-YEAR PROPOSAL.

■,f IBIS PONSONBY. CHAPTER I. “Hello, old fellow! Shall I see you at the grand bal masque? Grandest hop, and also the last one, of the season, you know. Better come!” “No—that is, I guess I can’t come. Should like to, ’pon honor; but, pressing business, you know.” The two friends, so lately met, separated. The first speaker, Carl Du Quesne, a young and thriving barrister, but a few months from England, hurried to his club at the St. Frisco, while his old college chum, Frank Greely, a bashful young lawyer who- had but lately hung out his shingle, turned toward his unpretentious rooms at the Lyons Hotel. As he threaded his way along the narrow streets, lost in meditation, deep, profound, his thoughts ran thus: “I don’t know but I may step in, after all, if bat to look after my own character. Let me see (thrusting his hands in his pocket); this is leap-year, sure enough. If I wasn’t such an idiot to run whenever I see a pretty girl approaching, I might have, found my destiny ere this. But, here we be!” This last exclamation was caused by finding himself in the center of a commodious room, where a huge fireplace sent forth a ruddy, pleasant glow. “Deuce take it, where is my meerschaum? Whew! even my cigar case is Why. bless my stars,” he ejaculated, dazedly, “if things don’t seem a little mix Jerusalem! but I’m in the wrong place. ” Sure enough ; so lost in thought had he been that he had mistaken the number, and now was, horrible to relate, in an apartment occupied by a female, as the tasty oil paintings, and exhibition of musical lore, indicated. He flew around the room in a pitiful frenzy, in quest of a hat which would not appear, and was deliberating upon the consequences of leaving the room without that article, when a chorus of Bweet, girlish voices arrested his horrified senses, followed by peal upon peal of silvery laughter, drawing nearer every moment to the apartment in which he was standing. “Good Lord, deliver me!” he cried out, mentally, as he stood for one moment undecided whether to risk all and fly past them, or run his chances of being undiscovered in some friendly retreat. He eagerly grasped at the latter probability, and made a dive for the only door in his rear, and which he found opened into a small dressing room liberally hung with numerous garments in the feminine line. Hastily drawing the door to after him, he was not a little disconcerted to hear an ominous click, while his “hair now stood on end” as he assured himself that he was a close prisoner, and at the mercy of the gay, fun-loving creatures just entering the apartment be had so lately quitted. In vain he racked his brain for some plan of escape. In vain he listened for a signal of exit from the noisy, allconfiding group. As well might he have thought to enter from thence into an enchanted castle; and, having become invisible, return by passing through their midst unperceived. At length, yielding himself to the inevitable, he crouched upon his knees at the key-hole, and prepared to take a complete survey of the entire group, the knowledge almost overwhelming in its great power, of beholding so much beauty unseen, and listening to feminine wit uublushinglv. He beheld a quartette of girls seated before the broad, rosy fender, with glowing, healthful cheeks and bright, sparkling eyes. They were all chatting at once, and laughing immoderately at one another’s sallies. Frank Greely recollected having seen them all at a distance before tonight; but whether either of their ■names was Sally, Sue or Betsy Ann )

he oould not tell. He was soon set at rest, however, upon that subject. The sauciest looking of the four—a dashing brunette of eighteen summers —after a coquettish toss of her ringlets, began: “Alla Caswell, 1 say, whom do you purpose to invite to attend you on the occasion of the 23d ? It should be some one highly gifted with the art of conversing nicely, you are such a quiet little puss, you know.” And she playfully pinched one ear of the young girl sitting beside her. “Indeed, I cannot say that I have deoided to ask any gentleman as yet,” was the reply, a bright blush suffusing the cheek of the timid speaker. Frank Greely, from his unenviable position, declared, mentally, that he had never seen a being half so lovely, “even in his idealistic dreams,” as the little golden-haired, blue-eyed fairy named Alla Caswell. “Oh, fie! coz! You. should run and hide your face for shame, and this leap year!” exclaimed bright, merry Alice Caswell, Alla’s own cousin on her father's side of the family. “I did not think that you were so cowardly, dear,” said Grace Dalrymple, sweetly. “Here have we all three selected our cavaliers, while you, little goose, are ‘non est.’ Poor, timid darling!” This was more than the sensitive girl could endure quietly, and after bestowing a fiery glance of indignation upon the last speaker she responded, impulsively: “I am not certain that I am compelled to select any one, and as for being cowardly, I had much rather be called that than too forward. But forgive me, dear,” she suddenly exclaimed, noting by chance the expression of wounded pride and shocked surprise upon her friend’s face. “I did not mean to wound you by my thoughtless words; I have been calculating all the time to choose some one of my gentlemen friends, but am so stupid that I really cannot make up my mind as to whom it shall be. And then, you know, if I should meet with a refusal I should die of shame—l know I should. Please help me, girls. ” Tears now actually shone in tho candid, soulful eye of the pretty blonde, while any ill-will felt toward her on account of those few hasty words vanished from the hearts of her three friends like magic. “Indeed, we will try to help you,” chorused the three, eagerly. “The first step taken, then, should be to lead her into the secret of the names of our escorts, I think,” said Grace Dalrymple, brightly. “Well, mine,” began Cora Beaufort, the dashing brunette and first speaker, “is Charlie St. Maur. He is the only one I asked,” she added, conceitedly. “I waß not obliged to invite but once, either,” said Alice Caswell, a little defiantly. “And the one I selected was Maurice White.”

now I presume you are all Buffering the natural curiosity inherited from Mother Eve to learn whom I have taken pity upon?” questioned Grace Dalrymple, mischievously. “Listen, now; your senses should be sharpened ere this,” she said, as she whispered a name so low that the eager listener at the keyhole merely caught the last syllable of the first name.

But, he felt assured of whom it was by the next remark, uttered by Alice Caswell.

“What, invite him when his intimate friend—his greatest chum—is allowed to remain in his dusty office, to count all of the spider-webs, and pore over Blackstone and Coke? Ob, how could you, girls!” she said, reprovingly. “How did we know ?” they all three responded. “Oh, I have it?” exclaimed Cora Beaufort, cocking her little head on one side like a robin, and holding up one forefinger to enjoin silence. “Thus it is, then! Why cannot Alla ask Mr. Greely for her cavalier, I should like to know?” “Why, indeed,” was the general response. But, the young lady in question was mute. “Why don’t you thank us for helping you in your selection, Alla?” asked Grace, with a becoming pout of her cherry lips. “I scarcely think I dare!” was the blushing answer. “She expects us to pop the question for her, girls,” exclaimed Alice, with a merry little laugh. “Oh, goodness me! He would jump completely out of his—his —office window, and make straight for the river,” said Cora Beaufort, arising to her feet and executing a charming little pirouette upon one daintily buttoned boot. “I will ask him myself, thank you,” responded Alla Caswell, drawing her little figure up indignantly. “Good gracious, Alla Caswell! Whatever can you mean ? You will pop the question yourself, did you say? I will wager you a new hat that you dare not.” “You are too bad, girls,” exclaimed Alla, beginning to cry with vexation. “Oh, Alla, if you 'only would!” exclaimed Grace and Alice in concert. “Yes, come! Do promise that you will, and we will never tell that it was you. You can disguise your voice effectually, and as for the rest, why you will be masked, you know,” Baiil Cora, pleadingly. Fearing ridicule from her friends if she refused, and perceiving no leal harm in connection with it, she finally consented to perform the most foolish act in her life, as she declared to herself afterward. “Oh, you dear darling, youl” “Youblessed lambi” “Oh, Alla! you are just too sw ” “What was that?” exclaimed all, in a startled whisper, as a distinct noise of

some kind was heard to proceed from the wall in their rear. The nnlucky prisoner, in his affright at the prospect of such a dread catastrophe as was threatened by the mischievous plotters, had ceased to be as cautious as heretofore, and in his effort to turn around the toe of one boot came in contact with a panel of the door, causing the exclamation above referred to.

“Oh, I dare say a rat has worked his way into the closet and has upset my work-basket, or something,” explained Grace Dalrymple. “A rat! good gracious! Who dare open the door to see ? I shall climb upon a chair or the table, I promise you!” exclaimed timid Alla, suiting the action to the word by mounting a stool, preparatory to making a higher ascension. “I will, goosie!” responded Cora Beaufort bravely, tragically flourishing the poker which she had previously armed herself with. “No, no!” “You surely would not commit so reckless an act!” “You will frighten us all into hysteria, you wayward girl!” were the remonstrances uttered. “I lead; who will follow ?” said she as she moved toward the fatal depredator. She cautiously turned the key, and, with a quick, dexterous jerk, flung the door wide open to the wall. The girls all looked ivith one accord, toward the small room now fairly exposed to their wondering, terrified eyes. The glimpse of a pair of masculine feet was sufficient for all four, and without one backward glance they all ran, shrinking and almost fainting, through the hall, from thence down the steps and out into the friendly open air; while Frank Greely, now enabled to indulge his feelings to the utmost, speedily clapped his recovered hat upon his head and entered his room, where a terrific explosion ensued.*

CHAPTER 11. Come to my arms, my dear one! Earth will be Eden with thee. “Better come to the party, Frank, old boy! All the elite of the land will be there; you will forever more regret it if you don’t. Whew! I say, Frank, is it because some fair damsel has not taken pity npon you to invite you? If so, go ask some one of-the bashful maidens to accompany you. Go, by all means.” “Don’t bother your cranium about me?” he said, with a merry twinkle in his eye. “My fair companion for the bal masque is decided upon; and, besides, I have a pressing engagement attending me there. So, all right, old fellow!” The rooms for the scene of dissipation presented an earthly Eden of beauty and grandeur. The perfume exhaled from numerous tropical plants to the senses was intoxicating in the extreme. Entrancing music proceeded from a curtained alcove, where skillful musicians were stationed. Deliciously cool, softly lighted retreats surprised the explorer upon every hand, ornamented by a splashing fountain, bouquets of choice odor and color were placed here and there, while tasty wreaths of the same adorned the paintings suspended from the wall. At the entrance of the masqueraders tho band struck up a lively march, which continued until the last one had arrived.

Then all lyas lively chatter and general curiosity, each one striving to pierce the other’s disguise. The dancing was at its height. The “Beautiful Blue Danube” and other waltzes from Strauss were being creditably rendered, and floated in all their melodious strength of enticing rapture out upon the still night air. In a small alcove, resting from the fatigues of the last dance, a couple were seated on a cozy tete-a-tete, painfully silent.

The lady, in her disguise as a flowergirl, appeared graceful and charmingly petite in the costume which she had chosen. The gentleman, as a French courtier, appeared to advantage, his tall, commanding figure singularly adapted to the representation. Screened from view by the folds of the heavy damask curtains, which effectually shut out the window with its deep embrazure from the interior, were huddled three feminine forms bent on eavesdropping. “Is not that music entrancing, ma petite?” was the courteous query which broke the lengthening silence. “Yes, it is beautiful!” was the response, in a low, sweet tone. “Shall we join the waltzers, sir?” “Not without you particularly wish it,” he replied, politely. “When should she have a fitting opportunity to keep her promise to those teasing girls, and relieve her mind of that which would persist in continuing uppermost in her thoughts, whatever she might do?” This was the question which Alla Caswell asked herself as she sat twirling a small circle upon her finger, while listening apparently to the charming Strauss air. “I will soon have it done with, and then run away somewhere where no one may find me,” she soliloquized. “A penny for your thoughts, fair lady!” come the deep, manly voice just beside her. Forgetful for the time of the disguise which concealed her features, and lacking somewhat in the very necessary requirement, self-confidence, Alla buried her face in her hands to hide its crimson bl- ishes, and burst into tears. “Whatever is the matter, Alla—Miss Caswell?” asked the concerned cavalier, oblivious of prudence for the moment. “I—that is—how did you know my

name is Miss Caswell?" queried poor Alla, striving in yain to appear dignified and angry. “Hush! do not draw needless attention. Let us come to an understanding. Is there not some question which you desired my answer to, to-night? Nay, do not deny that there is, for I know all abont it. ”

“You—you know! impossible,” ejaculated Alla, through pale lips. “No! Non sit down here, dear Miss Caswell—Alla, if I may call you by that dear title—and let me suggest to you a mode of silencing forever the teazing of those meddling girls in regard to this evening.” And he popped the question, then and there. An ominous silence ensued. A slight movement of the heavy damask curtains which shaded the window failed to attract their attention, while silence for a time reigned supreme. “I do not know! Indeed, I cannot think now. Please, oh, please, Mr. Greely, take me home,” she pleaded. Her head whirled and she felt dizzy and ill. The next day Frank Greely was seen by Mrs. Grundy departing from the Caswell mansion with a look of triumphant happiness glorifying his fine features, -while, strange to say, his extreme bashfulness had in a great measure fled. Wedding cards in a few months were circulating, sure harbingers of a very happy future. , Soon after the wedding the three young lacfles of our acquaintance met to discuss the appearance of the bride upon that occasion and things in general.

“Well, now what do you think of leap-year proposals, Grace Dalrymple ?” asked Cora Beaufort, resting her chin in one hand, while beating a restless tattoo upon the carpet. “Why, I think, as most people would under the circumstances, that Alla Caswell did uncommonly well, ” was the laughing rejoinder. “Go thou and do likewise, Alice!” said Cora Beaufort, chucking her friend teasingly under the chin. “Perhaps I might if she had not spoken so low that we failed to catch Alla’s successful mode,” she replied, jestingly. “At all events, we shall have to wait our turn for four years, girls!”

A Lesson in Advertising.

The lonesome Jersey sign-board, standing chin deep in the flood and over head in the rain, warning people not to have a picnic in flannel suits and lawn dresses that afternoon, brought to my mind a long, dreary, dismal November day I once passed—how I passed it, only a merciful .Providence knows—in Chapin, 111. Chapin is a junction town not quite so large as the Eag (ebusiness office. It rained all that day. It got up about daylight to rain and kept on raining harder every hour. I had to wait all day long for the train I wanted. In the afternoon, when my letters w<*re all answered and my newspaper work was accomplished, I stood at the window and looked dolefully out on the flooded landscape. The trees stood knee deep in the water. Everything was soaked. Everything drip, drip, dripped. Whatever could float floated. What couldn’t float sank. Water, water everywhere. In the clouds, in the air, on the ground, drip, gurgle, splash, drop and stream, swamp and torrent. And right in all this universe of moisture a great big sign, painted in white letters, black shaded, on a board fence, a sign so big that you could read it half a mile away, and it stared me in the face even when I shut my eyes and turned my back to it: “Bethesda Water at Hatch’s.”

Now, who the mischief wanted any of any kind of water on a day like that ? It made me so mad that I tried to quit looking at it. But I couldn’t. If I crawled under the bed, it was there; if I thrust my head inito the flue, it stared down the chimney. By and by, in utter despair, completely knocked out and exhausted, I yielded to my fate, went out in the rain, went right straight to Hatch’s and drank a glass of Bethesda water, and if there was anything ip the world I hated, it was Bethesda water. As a newspaper man I could only draw one moral from this: “Persistent advertising will tell.”— Burdette, in Brooklyn Eagle.

Ages of Authors.

Authors are proverbiably a long-lived race, bnt there are many exceptions to the rule. Chatterton, Keats and Kirke White died in early manhood. Keats was only 25; Artemus Ward died at 33; Byron at 36; Burns at 37 ; Charlotte Bronte at 39; Edgar Allan Poe at 40; Goldsmith at 46; Balzac at 51; Mrs. E. B. Browning, Shakspeare, and Thackeray at 52; Charles Kingsley at 56; Dickens at 58; Hawthorne at 50; Scott at 61; Boccaccio at 62; Milton and Agassiz at 66; Dumas senior at 67; Bulwer at 68; Hans Andersen at 70; Chaucer at 72; De Quincey at 74; Samuel Johnson at 75; Irving at 76; Beranger at 77; Goethe, at 83, lived through three generations.

A Great Australian River.

It is a common mistake to assume that Australia is a country destitute of large rivers; on the contrary, it possesses one of the largest water-courses in the world, viz., the Darling, which is navigable for 2,345 miles, placing it third in rank among the rivers of the world, estimated by their navigable length, and considerably above the Nile, navigable for 1,500 miles; the Danube, navigable for 1,700 miles; the Rhine, 609; and the Thames, navigable for only 188 miles.— Toronto Globe. A goose-egg weighing ten ounces is on exhibition at YaUejo, Cab

HUMOR.

Ode to the mince-pie—a night-mare. A legislator is a pow-wowerfu] TTIftTIA successful chiropodist is a corncuring hero. Lawyers like long fees and brief employment. “Ah ! these enchain my fancy,” remarked the prisoner, as the Sheriff put him in the chain gang.— Pretzel's lyMotheb, Is my chiqnon perfect? Shape my paniers, fix my sa->h; Johnny’s coming in the gloaming. And I want to make a mash. —Chicago Sun. “He laughs best who laughs last.” Therefore the man who catches onto a joke after everybody else has got through laughing over it is the best man,— Boston Transcript. An exchange says: “Nearly all the newspapers upfiold the skat ng rink.” Observation shows that the skaters need more upholding than the rink—especially the amateurs. —Norristown Herald.

When Bacon remarked to “Queen Bess”. that she didn’t know her own mind, what made the utterance particularly nutritious? Because it would have been rash enough in any one, but was a little rasher of Bacon.— Yonkers Gazette. She’s a blonde, and has long drooping lashes. And no skater more graceful nor rastfis, As around like a meteor she flashes; And she prates in the ear Of a friend very dear; "Say Kate! I've made seventeen mashes.” —Norristown Herald. You would hardly notice the similarity between them, and yet the only difference between a little bird and a w.ard politician just before election time is that the little bird pipes his lays while the politician lays his pipes.— Somerville Journal. THE SKATER’S CONJUGATION. I skate, thou skatest, he skates; I fall, thou tallest, he falls; I hate, thou hatest, lie hates To hear a girl laugh—how it galls! I strap, thou strappest, he straps; I swear, thou swearest, he swears; I snap, thou snappest, he snaps Suspenders, and every one stares. —New York Journal “No,” she said, positively, “I cannot marry you. Do not ask me why, but go. ” “I must ask you why,” be pleaded. “I am a street-car driver at 14 shillings a day, and can offer you a luxurious home. Think twice before you ruthlessly cast aside a' warm heart like mine. “Yonr fortune is ample and your heart is warm, no doubt,” she replied, still unmoved; “but as you are a streetcar driver I shudder when I think how cold your feet must be.” — New York Times.

OF COURSE IT IS. It’s better to laugh than be crying; It’s better to give than to take; It's better to live than be dying, And bread is much better than cake. It’s better to love than be fighting; It’s belter to lose than to win; It’s better to read than be writing. And women are better than men. It's better to go than to tarry; It’s better to smile than to pout; But whether it's better to marry Or not I would like to find out. — H. C. Dodge, in Chicago Sun. Speaking of mathematical jokes, some years ago I was witness to a curious wager between Charles Backus and Joseph Murphy, the comedians. The latter had told a story, which I do not remember, illustrated by the curious action of a number of wooden toothpicks peculiarly arranged and set on tire. “Show me that again,” said Backus, “and 11l bet a bottle of wine I can travel free to San Francisco by just telling that story to the conductors cn the way.” “Done !" exclaimed Murphy, and the two men of the profession who are popularly supposed never to have spent a penny for wine shook hands to bind the wager. Backus lost it. I asked him the circumstances. “Why,” he exclaimed, “Murphy had just worked his way over the roads by showing it to them; and every one I spoke to about it said: ‘Chestnut.’ I consider that Murphy took undue advantage of an innocent man.” When I repeated this to Murphy he maintained that he had learned the trick from a conductor, and added: “There’s nothing Charley Backus can teach them fellers. ” A MODERN SELKIRK. I’m monarch of all I survey. My right there is none to dispute, Skatorial artist au fait, In my plum-colored velveteen suit The darlings they cannot escape The glance of my all-searching eye; The creatures are struck on my shape. Their fingers I squeeze on the sly, No longer the man who has brains Can overwhelm me with defeat; Poor fool! for the sake of his pains He’s crowded upon a back seat. At polo I’m very distingue, As "Kusher” I'm not very lame; Hove to jump into the ring And capture the girls as my ganm. A sweet little daisy in blue Hangs onto my arm every night, ■While her mamma with motherly view. Enraptured looks upon the sight. Ha! ha! they all think I am meek. And haven’t a brain in my head; Inside of a very short vfeek The lass of a plumber 111 wed. At books I am not very tall. But I skate the Dutch roll very neat; At the co ler rink I have the oal'i. For all of my charm’s in my feet. Tra la la! I must bid you adieu. My charmer is waiting to whirl. The sweet little daisy in blue, The plumber’s chic heiress, a pearl —Whitehall Times.

M. Pasteur thinks that bisulphide of carbon ■will become the most useful of all antiseptics, as it is the okeapest, since it oosts only a fraction of a penny per pound. It is also the best insecticide known. Over 8,000,000 pounds are annually used to check the ravages of phylloxera. As first produced, carbon bisulphide is a very foul-smelling compound, but can be purified until it is pure enough in odor to mix with a perfume. It may be found effective in preventing such diseases as yellows in peach and other trees. A Vermonter claims to have a hen 39 years old.