Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 June 1886 — Page 2

THE TARNISHED MEDAL. • " BY NATHAN D. ÜBNEB. Turning old keepsakes over. In a pensive mood one day, I chanced on a tarnished medal Whose plating had worn away, Ehowmg the brass beneath it, Bereft of the bright disguise Which it falsely wore when, years before, It had formed my boyish prize. With festival preparations The country school was a-whirl, And a beautiful silver medal Was offered the boy or girl Who the greatest number of tickets Should among the neighbors sell; And my striving hard for that bright reward I yet can remember well. Early and late on my mission I wandered from door to door, Oft meeting with naught but failure, After trudging a mile or more; But buoyed by the hope of possession, That was ever before my eyes, Till mine at last was the victory, And mine the glittering prize. My joy in my schoolmates' envy, As I wore it before them all, I can still with a blush remember, But I likewise can recall My bitter humiliation When the medal proved, alas! But a worthless toy of the worst alloy— A bauble of severed brass. And now there comes the reflection Of how often in latter life Do the prizes shrink that we toil for Through many a weary strife ; And how well it is to make certain, Before we expend our strongth, Of the real worth of the things of earth That we hope to attain at length.

ONE BRAVE ACT.

BY W. H. S. ATKINSON.

Steamville was just a large railroad town in the West. Deduct the shops and yards of the Grand Transcontinental and New Orleans and Idaho Railways, with their necessary adjuncts, from Steamville, and nothing remained. Indeed, at the time of which we are writing very little did remain in a business way—for a great strike was in progress. * The shop doors were closed on cold forges, silent hammers and deserted benches; the round-houses were filled with dead locomotives; no freight trains moved in or ■out of the yards or depots. Altogether, Bteamville, for the time-being, ill deserved its name. It is not necessary for us to inquire into the causes which led up to the strike. Whether real or imaginary, a number of the Grand Transcontinental employes declared they had grievances which must be adjusted; so the District Assembly K. of L. ordered out all the freight trainmen of the Grand Transcontinental Railway, together with several of its tributary lines. This, with all subsequent orders emanating from the District Assembly, was signed “John Headford, Master Workman.” General Superintendent Mansel sat alone tn his private office, at Steamville headquarters. His duties had altered somewhat in the last few days. Instead of devoting his energies to bringing tfbout the safe and speedy running of trains, he now divided his time between telegraphing the President of the road, in Chicago, and interviewing detectives. He was worried a good deal. The fact was, he wished to do the right thing by the men, and at the same was not the man, at this critical time,'to fail the directors, who trusted him implicitly. One man—a man he had never seen — Superintendent Mansel cordially disliked, and that was none other than John Headford, the Master Workman whose name appeared at the foot of all the District Assembly documents. It is hardly surprising, perhaps, that the Superintendent (who was a good-hearted, whole-souled man in the main) bore no great love to any labor organizations. The Knights of Labor, District Assembly 2002, with its Master Workman, he absolutely disliked. “Lot of damned scoundrelly fire-bugs and trainwreckers, those labor agitators and wire pullers,” he would say; “trying to make questionable points for the workingmen, and a few dollars for themselves at the same time. There were all our boys working away and well satisfied with everything until along came these Knights of Labor with their master workmen, and secretaries, and every other kind of grand high mqnkey work. I’d just like to meet this fellow Headford, who is so fresh with his general orders. Nineteen to one he's a cowardly sneak, ashamed to show his face in Steamville, judging from the way he hides himself in his own town all the time. If I ever get near enough to him I’ll tell him what I think of him and his loafing crew, sure as my name is Tom Mansel.” At the end of which, or similar remarks, the General Superintendent would stretch himself out to the full length of his seventy-three inches. 4 * * * * # * *

It was 2:15 p. m. when the General Superintendent sauntered into his office and took his seat with an air of relief. Once more No. 14, the fast express carrying the mails for the far West, had been started out of Steamville without any mishap. So far the strikers had interfered with none but freight traffic; but there was no telling when the more reckless of their number might take upon themselves to impede the progress of passenger trains. Therefore the officers always felt better as each succeeding train carrying passengers departed in safety from Steamville, where the strikers were more numerous than at any other point along the line. The Superintendent had just lighted his cigar when a man entered the office, closing and locking the. door behind him. He was a detective in the employ of the railroad company. “Number 14 has just left, Mr. Mansel. Where is her first stop?” “ She will stop for water at Prairie Flower, fifty-five miles west of here. Why?” “That train will be wrecked at Running Creek, which is, I understand, ten miles this side of Prairie Flower. I have just learned that a gang of men went down on a hand-car this morning with tools, to loosen all the bolts and fastenings of the trestle over the creek. I’m afraid it’s too late to prevent a fearful accident. ” “But there is a telegraph station two miles this side of the creek,” said the Superintendent; “I will send, a message and have tbe operator flag Number 14. There is plenty of time; she is not due to pass that telegraph cabin. until 3:25. It is now just 2:25.” “It is too late, Mr. Mansel,” said the detective. “The arrangement was made to cut the wires immediately after the departure of Number 14 from Steamville. But have your operator try what he can do.” The operator was instructed to call all the offices between Steamville and Prairie

Flower. In a few moments he reported that he oould obtain no respone. “Good God!” exclaimed the excited Superintendent; “there is only one chance to save that train, but I’ll take it.” Rushing down to the yard he found the engine which had brought in Number 14 from the east. It was the only locomotive which had steam up, and the fireman was already commencing to rake out her fires. “Hold on!” shouted the Superintendent t 6 the fireman; “fire up, for God’s sake. Do as I tell you —it’s life or death—and I’ll pay yon five hundred dollars in cash tonight!” To the excited Superintendent every moment seemed an hour. In six minutes they had on a full head of steam and plenty of coal aboard. Mr. Mansel backed the engine on to the main track. But a crowd of angry strikers had gathered around, and, seeing the chief official of the road with his hand on the throttle, began to think some scheme was afoot to get ahead of them. Few, if any, of their number knew of the wrecking scheme; but, having allowed the passenger train to proceed unmolested, they would permit no “extras” to move. “Great heavens, boys!” shouted the frantic Superintendent, “we must save life. Number 14 will be wrecked if we cannot overtake her. Bum the round-house and smash every stick of property in the yard, if you will, but for God’s sake let me go on!” But the men would not listen. They thought it was a rase t@ get a locomotive outside the town limits and move some freight cars from the west yard, two miles away. They dragged Mansel and the fireman from the cab, while a number of them took possession of the locomotive and prepared to take her back to the round-house. It was useless for the Superintendent to protest or struggle; he had to give in. Rut, as he thought upon the terrible loss of life which must shortly occur, he saw a quiet and unassuming man step from the crowd and board the locomotive. As he did so eveiy other man on the engine climbed down, not one of the crowd interfering. As this man started the engine he called to Mansel, “Don’t you worry about the wreck until you hear from me.” One hour passed—two hours—three hours. About sundown Number 14 came back into Steamville. She was uninjured. All the passengers and all the trainmen were safe. But upon the floor of the bag-gage-car, covered with a couple of overcoats, lay the dead body of the man who had saved the train.

He had got away from Steamville all right, but m passing through the west yard a dozen different pistols had been emptied into the cab of the locomotive, forced to slow somewhat to go by the many switches in safety. There was no time to stop and explain to the men. Forty miles must be made in as many minutes, so the engineer, bleeding from half a score of bullet holes, kept ahead, and was soon bounding along the track at a terrible speed. Less than a mile from the rocking trestle he signaled Number 14 and brought the train lo a sfaudstill. He just had blood and breath enough left to tell the conductor about the scheme for wrecking the train, and with a parting injunction not to blame the Knights of Labor for such mean and dastardly work, the man died. General Superintendent Mansel was the first to view the body of the dead man after it was lifted tenderly from the baggagecar. And this was his first meeting with John Headford, Master Workman (for it was none other). He had said he would tell this John Headford what he thought of him the first time he saw him. But it was useless telling him anything now. If he could hear, the Superintendent would say (for Tom Mansel does not think it unmanly to acknowledge a mistake) —“Will you shake hands? You are a brave man.” John Headford’s heroic death had a good deal to do with bringing about a reconciliation between the railway company and its employes. Travelers over the Grand Transcontinental Railway may now see, at the eastern end of the new iron bridge over Running Creek, a tall marble shaft, erected by the passengers on Number 14 and the railway men of Steamville. Near the base is chiseled this inscription:

JOHN HEADFORD, • MASTKB WORKMAN, K. OF L. * “Curator love hath no man than ; this, that a man lay down his life ; for his friends. ” :

Behind the Scenes.

It is the first night of the season. All is in readiness for an opening night’s representation. The company’s members answer to well-known names upon the “stock lists.” They have been engaged with much care and due consideration of properly supporting the eminent and worldrenowned actress who gives her name to the company.

Upon the stage, the first scene is set, every rope, every slide is in place. The carpenter has ceased his hammering and the paint-pots are at rest. There must be no waits on this first night. Faint and soft from beyond the heavy curtain may be heard the orchestra playing the opening overture. There is a subdued palpitation in the atmosphere which indicates nervous anticipation and restrained excitement. Tbe ladies and gentlemen have patiently submitted, during the last month, to multitudinous rehearsals, eagerly availed themselves of all new “business” the efficient stage manager has suggested, and to-night it, as well as themselves, is to be put to the test, and they can not tell how they will do until it is done. The oldest veteran loses confidence.

In the dressing-rooms above the stage, on a level with the flies, all is bustle. The star’s room is sacred from intrusion, but in the ladies’ general room the gas jets glare and flash within their globes of wire, rouge-pots, pow'der-boxes, pencils, wigs, etc., litter ever}’ available spot. The “old woman” is padding out her young, slim hips; the “leading lady” is drawing in her rather matronly waist, and the “maid in waiting” is assorting some stage jewelry. A knock at the door, and it is unceremoniously pushed ajar by the “first walking gentleman,” who imparts the valuable information that if they will “put a small round dash of black just below the lower lid, at the outside corner of each eye, it will make them look as large-as saucers.” It is received with disdain, and he is peremptorily ordered out, vowing he will never give them another point. A bell sounds, the curtain rises, and all is quiet around the

stage as tho play proceeds. Shortly upon the narrow stairs leading from the dress-ing-rooms, the “old .man” buttonholes a young reporter and is giving him “copy.” “I have appeared in *ll the principal cities, supported the most noted 6tars,” you can hear him say, his voice raising as he proceeds. “I am letter-proof in lago and Claude Melnotte; and” —assuming a heroic, tragical tone of voice—“if I can not play Othello better than Mr. Bnstup.yon may take this” —tapping his forehead lightly—“from this,” at the same time throwing out his broad chest and loudly slapping himself in the region of his heart. The reporter disappears, apparently in a state of collapse caused by the bare idea of such a possibility, no one can tell which possibility. The play moves on, a door opens and closes above, light Bteps sound near the stairs. It is the “soubrette,” a pretty, modest, young girl. She has had some experience in slightly abbreviated skirts, but this is her first appearance in tights. To-night she takes the part of a page. She has made her toilet with elaborate care. There is not a wrinkle in the fine silk webbing that encases her round, straight limbs. Every ribbon is in place. The plume in her little cap waves gracefully erect. Reaching the steps, she hesitates, then runs back, and you might hear her murmur, “How can I ever go down? The audience does not alarm me. but those people on the stage, how they will criticise me!” Presently she reappears, wrapped in the Newmarket cloak she has worn to the theater. She descends with a painful assumption of indifference. It is some time before she must go on; she has come down early to become accustomed to it. She stands around in the flies. “How can I over take off this cloak?” is her mental cry. But here comes “the star,” regal, dazzling, and panting with excitement. Her most trying scene is just finished. She is RECALLED AGAIN and again. At last she turns back for the last time. Her sharp eye catches sight of the little “soubrette.” She comprehends tho situation v ith a glance, and, holding out her hand, says: “Ah! my dear, let me see how you look.” The bright girl takes the cue instantly. She throws off the cloak, doffs her cap, drops on one knee, and kisses that friendly hand. The lady, raising her, exclaims: “Beautiful! Magnificent! You look just like a prince!” The embarrassment is all passed. The queen has spoken. There is now no need to be afraid. One of her smallest but most appreciative audiences has had a glimpse of the kind, generous woman hidden beneath the robes of the stage artist, the star. —Chicago Ledger.

A Flirt’s Confession.

“I do not think that I ever flirted with the hope or intention of seriouslywinning men’s hearts. It was fun to receive their attentions and to be able to lure them away from other girls, and especially was this the case when the men were married or engaged. In most instances I think they went back to their own and their own received them. Why did Ido it? Well, I think the reason was this: I really liked all agreeable men and anything that looked like lack of appreciation on their part was so exceedingly distasteful to me that I straightway strove to overcome it. The young fellows just coming out came into my net as a matter of course for several years, but older men heard of me before being presented,and fought shy. I did not understand this then. I thought they disliked me, whereas it was probably caution or disapproval, and I set myself forthwith to disarm the caution and change the disappoval to liking. It was simply unpleasant to me to have anyone indifferent. I have cried time and again on my way home in the carriage, simply because some one whom I wanted to please seemed indifferent. Several times I was actually caught with tears on my cheeks by those of whom I was thinking, and I always managed to let them guess the reason of my tears. That was always effectual. It never failed to bring about the desired end, but I declare solemnly that I never did it on purpose —cried, I mean—and I never intended to be caught in tears. I suppose that most men will refuse to believe this, but it is true. I was simply at my wits’ end with wretchedness, because I thought some one had taken a dislike to me.” —The Hour.

Sized Him Up.

This is a story which the Rev. Dr. Rush, Secretary of the Freedmen’s Aid Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church, tells to the annual conference, before whom he presents the claims of his society. A young negro in the South had been converted and at once wanted to preach. His elders thought he was not fitted for the important work; but he well-nigh staggered them by relating a vision, in which he had plainly seen the letters “G. P.C.,” which could mean only “Go preach Christ.” A white-haired negro preacher slowly arose and told the ambitious young brother that while he had, no doubt, seen the letters in a vision, he had failed in the interpretation. They probably meant: “Go pick cotton,” or “Go plant corn.” This* settled the matter. A preacher in the New York Conference, when the story was told a few days ago, remarked to a friend sitting near: “I wish we had men in our white conferences sharp enough to explain away as a itisfactorily the arguments by which our young incompetents try to convince the committee that they have been called to preach the gospel.” —New York Tribune. “Yes,” said the lecturer on moral science, “there are several classes of people who do not bear prosperity, the largest of which is composed of "those who never got a chance to bear it.” A married woman lasts longer than a single one, because she is husbanded.

It Is to Be.

In the history of nations, and of men, the works of thh fittest seem likely to survive the longest. They may be lost sight of for a little season, but like the flowers of June they come again and prove their right to admiration and renewal.

Passing over the events in cyclopedia from the wars of Alexander to Grant, from the pyramids of Egypt to the Brooklyn bridge, and noting the drift of sentiment in art, religion and invented improvements, we are forced to conclude that, with all of the crime and suffering of the races on the globe, we know but little af’er all of the cruelty of war, the baseness of passion, or the utter degradation of man in the present as compared with the past. The past was bloody, revengeful, stupid, cruel, and barbarous in war, reaching to the hand-to-hand contest for kingdoms by poison or by intrigue, while the present consents to battle only as a last extremity, and treats the vanquished with becoming regard for their humanity. The past gloried in blood and torture to men and women over religious contentions, the present grows more and more tolerant of personal belief. The past aimed at the promotion of rulers, the present would improve mankind. It mattered little in the past that whole nations were subjugated as serfs; to the present the intellect of sages is bent on humane dealings between all conditions of life. That the fittest seem surviving in a material as well as a social sense is shown in t e progress of educated natians. England, America, Germany and France, these are the progressive people of the Avorld in thought and science; the restless invention enjoyable by the masses who govern themselves by new and original methods, and instead of saying with Alexander that we fight them, because two cannot govern the same country, we compete with them proudly and celebrate, their advancement in fairs and expositions with rejoicing, because we see in them an element of profit and friendship. There may be times when political leaders look on the misfortunes of neighboring nations with Alexander’s greed of conquest, or Caesar's desire for their gold, but it is not the sentiment of our time to foster such ambition. Men are learning to like each other for selfish reasons if for no other. And this is one of the surest elements of universal progress—a desire to create commerce by friendship. The signs of the times to-day indicate that the four great Christian nations, with several more lesser ones in influence, would cheerfully unite in a treaty of perpetual peace or an agreement to arbitrate every national difference hereafter.

With this sentiment comes a deep feeling of security, a love of home, and a desire to command commerce by deserving it. The people of the West are hurrying their grain to far-away markets in islands on foreign shores, while those of the East are taking interest in farm lands and large ranches to bring them into greater production. The people of the North and South are busy in their forges and their forests fitting and preparing the tools and timber to be used by these who, in ancient times, would have been enemies. And what does all this argue—for the scroll seems unrolling and the marching armies and tortured prisoners and chariots falling from precipice rocks, and martyrs burning at the stake, and kings enjoying the combats of wild beasts in the arena, and rulers plotting the destruction of Cities, while vast armies, fording streams, are met and murdered without truce or mercy, seem rising in the Eastern back-ground, and industries with their palace loads of grain aud blooded cattle are flying back to meet them from the West — what does it mean, this startling sentiment of men ? It means that a union of the good is before us. It means that the implements of modern warfare are to be forged in the friendship of nations, that the war is to be a war of commerce, its battles to be fought with skill and enterprise; that instead of destroying productions we are learning to applaud every means that will increase trade, cheapen good living, supply luxury, and benefit mankind.— J. W. Donovan, in the Current.

Boston’s Fashionable Foible.

“Where have you been, dear?” “Down to the Science Matinee.” “Did you like it, dear?” “It was just splendid Prof. Bottles gave a lecture on * The Advisability of Prolonged Anesthetization.’ It was simply lovely; and Dr. Nester’s paper on * The Hemostatic Properties of Ambrosia Artemesisefolia ’ was just too sweet for anything. You must be sure and come down with me next week.”— Puck.

In the Sanctum.

A man entered an editorial-room and saw a Shapeless Mass sitting on the Journalistic Tripod. The visitor asked: “Where is the editor whose great powers have made him known far and wide as The Thunderer ?” To this the Shapeloss Mass replied: “But yesterday I might have claimed that honor, but since the Vigilant Compositor edited my copy I have been compelled •to appear in the role of a Crushed Strawberry.” —Atlanta Constitution.

Hard to Please.

“Never fear, my dear,” remarked the wife to her impecunious husband; “never fear; I still love you.” “I know that,” he replied; “but that doesn’t help matters much.” “I’ll trust you always,” she exclaimed. - “Yes, my dear,” he replied, with a sigh that came from his heart; “that is very fine, but unfortunately you are not the grocer.”— New York Graphic.

HUMOR.

Signs of spring—bull-frogs and other croak cusses. As a home-ruler the cook. is a supreme success. A baby does not dissemble. He always hollers when he feels holler. A grammarian would, no doubt, define Adam’s original position as “first person, singular.” “What bell are you ringing?” he asked of the colored sexton, “Dis is de secon’ ring of de fus belL ” A young lady, who Baid she had married a tanner, deceived her fr ends most shamefully. He was only a schoolmaster. She—What a man you are, George, always making fun of the ladies’ taper waists! He —And what should I do with a taper but to make light of it ? Employer—“ Don’t you see what’s on the door ?” Fat—“A bit of paper, sur.” Employer—“lt says, ‘Please shut the door.’ ” Pat -“Fait, I didn't hear it, sur.” “Do you work miracles here ?” said an intruder who had come in to break up the meeting. “No,” said the leader, as he collared the rascal, “but we cast out devils!” “It takes a superior woman to be an old maid,” says Miss Sedgwick, the authoress. She generally becomes an old maid before she discovers her superiority. — Maverick. The bow-legged man may not stop a pig from passing him in the a ley, but his usefulness to sieiety is recognized when the marble season bursts upon the small boy in all of its bloom. — Maverick.

SEEMINGLY so. The dude sat chewing the monkey’s head That was carved in the handle of his umbrella, When ths beautiful maiden, shuddering, said, “Oh! please don’t do that again, dear Fred.” And he asked, in suprise, “Why not, dear Bella? Why not, I ask you?” “Because,” said she, “It looks like cannibalism to mo." —Boston Courier. Boarding-house keeper to applicant for room: “What is your business, young man?” “I am an instructor, madam. I coach deficient collegians.” “Eh—what’s that?” “A tutor, madam; lam a tutor.” “Oh, one of them gents that plays in the band, eh? All right, I didn’t know but what you was one of them poor miserable fellers that gets their livin’ by teachin’. Gome right in, sir.” —Burlington Free Press.

It looked like rain as Mr. Joblittle started out of the house, and he came back into the room where his wife was. “I thought you had gone down to meet the boys ?” she said, quietly. “I started, my dear, but it looks like rain.” “Ain’t you going?” “Yes, but I guess I’d better jjake a waterproof along with me.” “Perhaps you had, my love,” she said, ironically; “and, dear, don’t you think you had better take a whiskyproof along?” Job concluded that the proof was against him. —Merchant Traveler.

HOW THEV AKE PRONOUNCED BY SENSIBLE PEOPLE. Long time he’d boen away from home, The Reverend Mr. Harris ; When he returned he told his wife That he had been to Paris. And when he asked his wife about His little girls and boys. She said that they were visiting An aunt in Illinois. She said she was in failing health, And, if he had the means, She’d like to have a trip herself As far as New Orleans. He said, “My dear, you’ll have the trip— The proper thing to do is To go together, and we’ll take The steamer at St. Louis." —Boston Courier. “Gentlemen,” said a Dakota Justice of the Peace, taking a fresh bite of tobacco, “when the attorney for the defense, a recent importation from the played-out and run-down East t says that this court is not run in accordance with business principles he shows that he is not on intimate or friendly terms with inside facts. I charged the plaintiff $lO for beginning this suit, it costs the defendant $5 for the privilege of being heard on his side, I have decided to fine each party #25 and I would further, gentlemen, taike this ’ere public method of socking a fine of sls for contempt of court onto the beforeinmentioned flickering legal light from the spavined East. And gentlemen and fellow-citizens, lemme say further, that this SBO, together with certain other moneys paid in at this Sbrine of justice, goes to buy a hoss for this ’epe court, which may serve to convince the legal gentleman who injures the chances of the defendant for $2.50 a day and found that he is mistaken in his business principal racket. All parties to this action will please step for’ard and whack up.” —Estelline Bell.

An Anthropological Garden.

An exhibition is projected at Berlin to show the races of men and their habits, as animals are shown in zoological gardens. In the exhibition it is intended that* representatives of various races shallpermanently reside, while of such as cannot stand the cold of the climate, representatives will be brought to Germany to reside during the summer. A museum of objects pertaining to the different races will be established in connection. An attempt was once made at the London Crystal Palace to represent various peoples and their manner of living, by means of models, but it was never carried very far. A man who was always telling an old story about “a man that was lost over-' board” was interrupted in his n rrative one evening by a friend exclaiming, “Come, come,, my good fellow! I’m over-bored by that man overboard!” , During 1885 Colorado produced $4,660,899 in gold and $15,427,973 in silver, a total 4 ecreafle of $202;-125 as oompared with 1884.