Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 June 1886 — Page 6

“AVE MARIA." BY A. B BUSBT. A pound floats up from the valley, Through the tall pine trees, Audthe faintest odor of incense, Is borne on the breeze; The leaves of the roses flutter And fall to the ground, And lilies are white in the twilight, As I list to the sound. It comes from a stately building, \\ here the lights gleam dim ; for the saintly nuns are chanting A vesper hymn. And “Hail” they cry, sweet Mary, For His dear sake, For the shadows all will floe When the day begins to break. The white-robed priest at the altar Intones but a solemn lay, And softly the voices chorus The requiem of the day. In one rings a sound of sorrow, Another a tone of pain. And a note bring, to us the bygone days That never can come again. But the dim, faint light in the chancel Shows faces so pure and white, And lips that in prayer are moving For wisdom, grace, and light. And “Hail," they cry, sweot Mary, For His dear sake, I/8t the shadows flee away, And light begin to break. But see the purple twilight Is fading into night, And the pale moon in the heavens Gleams with uncertain light; For the mist li< s o’er tho valloy, And the place looks drear and lono, As ever to my ears is waftod That sad monotone. Floating through the pine trees Comes the glimmering light, Now the sound seems clearer As the night grows bright. For still they cry “Hail, Mary,” For His dear sake Soon shall tho shadows vanish, Soon shall the morning break. Through the vale in silence, To the peaceful lake, And on its rippling waters My lonely way I take. No breath disturbs the quiet, No sound tho solemn night, i’ave a faint, low mmmur Near a distant light. But onward still, and onward My boat goes on h ‘r way, Till I, too, long for morning And light of coming day. For "H til,” th ‘v say, the shadows So, n shall they flee away, Soon shall the darkness vanish In tho lull light of day.

THE MIDNIGHT ASSASSIN.

BY CAPTAIN JAMES MONTFORD.

“In the spring of 1862 I was wounded in the arm, and obtained leave to return homo for a few weeks. “The wound was slight, and a month had scarcely passed ere I was strong as ever, and began to feel that uneasy sensation, I can scarcely call it longing, which comes upon a soldier when far away from the field where victories and defeats are falling to his coinrad'H whom he knows so well. “'1 hrec weeks before my leave of absence expired I left home again and started for the field. “When I arrived within thirty or forty tniles of the point where the command was stationed, I found that the track had been torn up, and that we must remain at the small station until the rails could again be laid. “While loitering about the little town a chance occurred for the purchase of a horse at a very moderate price, considering the times. “I struck a bargain with the owner, and resolved to ride through the country to the point where the troops were stationed. “This would be more pleasant, as I knew a young man, who was about to enlist, intending to go by the train, which was now at a standstill. “He was a native of Phonofon, the town where wo were detained, and was perfectly acquainted wilh the country surrounding it. “Immediately after purchasing the horse I hunted him up, and it was soon agroed that we should ride across the couutry. “Bright and early the following morning he rode up to the little inn where I was stopping, and in less than thirty minutes we were cantering through the village street in the direction of the camp. “It was a pleasant day; a storm was impending, but not likely to fall until night. “I never passed a finer time on horseback; but nothing interesting occurred, and I will hasten on to the story. “As night approached, and my companion offered no information in regard to our distance from the camp, I began to consider that, as we had ridden at a good rate all •day, we must be near our destination. “ ‘Well, Frank,’ said I, ‘we are nearly at the end of this journey, are we not?’ “ ‘I guess we are, Colonel,’ he replied. ■“ ‘Then you are not certain about it?’ ■“ ‘ I thought I was,’ he replied, iu a puzzled way, and looking about for landmarks. “‘Do you recollect where you are? ’ I inquired, after a short silence. “He admitted that he did not, and, although he declared ‘he didn’t knowhow he could have made such a mistake,’ I realized that we must be seeking a lodging for the night without delay, for the storm had gathered violence, and would soon discharge itself. “ ‘ We must make inquiries at the first house,’ I said, and urging the tired horses onward, we kept a shaip lookout for some habitation. “But this was not met with when desired. "We had ravaged the country, and a great many of the houses we passed were untenanted and dismantled. “As it grew darker and darker, the prospect of remaining outside at the mercy of the storm began to cause some discomfort. “ ‘There’s a house!’ shouted Frank at last, and, following his eyes, I saw a light a short distance back from the road. “It was a small building, unpainted, and did not promise much ’in the way of entertainment. Nevertheless, any kind of shelter is better than none in a storm, and we rode in through the open gate and dismounted. “We were saluted by the barking of dogs from the back of the house, and before we had reached the door it was opened and a man appeared. “We asked the way to our destination, and soon found that wo had strayed many miles from the direct road. “ ‘You’ll hardly git thar to-night,’ said the man, in harsh accents; and he did not refuse lodgings for ourselves and horses when it was requested. “We accompanied him to the stable arid flaw our tired animals introduced to the company of a cow and a pair of oxen, then followed our host back to the house. “I had taken a strange dislike to the man, and was not made more easy by his uncivil manners and guttural tones. “The room into which he led us was

already occupied by a short, brown woman, the man’s wife, and three very dirty children. The children were ordered off to bed by their mother, who, at her husband’s suggestion, placed bread, butter, and a plate of cold potatoes upon the table for our delectation. “I had often eaten worse fare with the relish which is given by sharp hunger, and did not despise the meal; my companion was more dainty, and, while making a •pretense of eating, fastened his eyes upon the master of the house. “The latter would have created suspicion in a saint. He bore the exact description of the ruffian in an old poem I have read: “A lean-faced writlien knave, Hawk-nosed and vory hollow-eyed, With mighty furrows in his stormy brows, Long hair down his shoulders curled; His thin was bare. 11l fact, I could not help sharing, to a certain extent, in my comrade’s fear; but we were in for it now, if danger was intended. “We soon learned that our host was a violent partisan of the South; that he had lost two sons upon the battle-field, and that he would have shouldered arms himself if it hadn’t been for the old woman! “He did not seem to consider ns foes, and Frank thought it necessary to express sentiments in favor of the man’s principles. “As we were preparing to retire for the night the door opened and a stout young man entered, shaking the water from his clothes. “He was a neighbor, apparently, for the master addressed him In a familiar way, and as we followed our hostess from the room, I observed a signal pass between them, followed by glances, menacing, I thought, cast iu our direction. “The apartment into which I was ushered was small, with no furniture except the bed, and without a door. “My companion was to be in an adjoining room. The woman made an awkward apology for the "poor place,’ as she called it, and ended by saying that ‘her sons had once occupied the rooms, and mebbe my friends had killed them.’ “This suggestion came so abruptly that it startled me. It was tho first intimation given that our profession was understood. “I made some commonplace remark, and was left alone, to sleep if I could, which was not at once. “I heard the family j’etire; then all was still save the patter of the storm outside. I felt oppressed, as though with the sense of approaching misfortune. “The form of our ill-looking host was conjured up before my mind, attended by all the villainous circumstances and incidents that an active imagination could furnish. “At last, after tossing about for hours, I fell asleep. How long I lay unconscious I know not; but when I awoke it was with a start, and my faculties were upon the stretch at onco. “I heard some one in the hall without my room. He came with the stealthy motion of a murderer stealing upon his victim. “My knavish host was coming to avenge the death of his sons, was the idea that flashed into my heated brain, and stealing from the bed I began to feel about for my weapons. “They were not where I had placed them. Had the assassins removed the pistols, that they mij.ht perpetrate their meditated crime iu safety? “So it seemed, and taking a large, strongbladed clasp-knife from the pocket of my pantaloons, I stole toward the door, resolved to meet the villains, and take them by surprise. “I reached the door in the dark, and ere I knew it had stepped outside. Some form was before me. I could hear a stifled breath at my side, and the next instant was grasped by a pair of strong hands. “My knife was knocked from my hand, and I struggled with tho desperation of a madman to prevent the blow which I expected would fall. “I endeavored to throw my assailant to the floor, but his limbs seemed formed of steel. I dealt and received several blows, and at last wc fell, and rolled over and over upon the floor. “All this occupied but an instant; but I was already becoming winded. My antagonist was too strong. “Suddenly I made a last desperate effort, and we fell upon the stairs, roiling over until we reached the bottom. “The fall separated us, and as I staggered to my feet a light appeared, carried in the hand of my host. His wife was looking out upon us through the partially open door of her bedroom.” “Go on, Colonel,” I cried; “why do you pause?” “There’s not much more to tell. I had been battling all this time with Frank, the new recruit, and my good host was as innocent of all sinister intentions as the sleepy chickens whose slumbers we disturbed. “My companion had gone to sleep, oppressed with uneasy thoughts concerning the master of the house, a terrible dream had followed, and still under the influence of the ‘ghastly hag who rides our dreams,’ he had risen from his bed, only to awake to grapple in the struggle for life which followed. “We rode away the next morning with better feelings toward our rough but hearty friends of the cabin, and did not trouble them with the suspicion we had formed of their character.”

Bill Nye on House-Cleaning.

It is now the season of the year when we begin to spruce up around our premises and put on the airs of spring. A few welltimed remarks upon matters of g.eneral interest to housekeepers, coming from one who understands fully what he is talking about, may be beneficial. If they are received in the proper spirit my object will have been attained. All I care for is to furnish all the information I can and do all the good I can. Life is made up of these little acts of kindness, and to be well informed, and then to bo able to spread that information around all over the couutry iu such a way as to ameliorate the condition of our race, is a most fortuunte thing for the possessor, and a great boon to those who may be the recipients of that information. A good, durable whitewash may be made by slacking pure lime with salt and a light solution of water. Mix while cold, and stir gently while boiling, so that it will not burn on. Let it stand ten minutes and then carefully skim it. If it does not settle readily drop in the yelk of an egg. Do not put glue in your whitewash in order to make it stick. It is a great mistake to unite glue or baking powder with whitewash that is to be used on the walls or ceiling of a parlor. A gallon of milk will improve a large quantity of whitewash, but the cream may be taken off before the milk is used. To apply whitewash on a ceiling is not a difli-

cult process, and many people pay a professional when they might do it equally well themselves. Take a whitewash brush of about the medium height and dip it in the liquid preparation. Next carefully remove the surplus by gently pressing the brush against the side of the pari. You can then stand on the piano and apply the solution to the ceiling, a little at 'a time. If you do this, however, do not forget and step forward into the works of the piano, or set the pail on the strings while you are at work. After you have been at work for a few moments, and got your sleeves well filled with whitewash, you may empty them back into the pail, thus saving the surplus, which otherwise might be wasted. Care should be used in spattering oil paintings and bric-a-brac on the walls. Some oil paintings look better spattered with whitewash, while others do not. For this reason a keen discrimination is necessary, and ever}- man may not succeed with the brush. Whitewash may be removed from the eye by the judicious use of muriatic acid, which cuts the lime and purifies the eye itself, removing any animal substance also that may have fallen into the socket, including the eye itself. Maple sugar may be made by squeezing the juice out of the maple tree and boiling it down to about the consistency of the spring poem. The maple flavor is not injurious to the taste, and does not interfere with the popularity of this justly celebrated dope for the hot pancake. Much maple syrup and sugar grow in Vermont, and I have often wondered what becomes of this healthful beverage. Why maple syrup, made from the juice of the maple tree, should not find its way into the channels of trade is more than I can understand. A cheap and tasty window curtain may be made of the finest batiste, cut the proper length, and then decorated with painted flowers. Most any lady can readily paint these flowers in any design, or at least a great many seem to think they can. The flowers may be any variety which fancy may dictate, such as corn flowers, daisies, pond lilies, or forget-me-nots, and, if they do not look just right, they may be erased while still green by boiling the curtains in a solution of benzine and tuipentine, say two parts of the former to ninety-eight of tho latter. A design to which my attention has been recently called consists of a unique, improvised flower, composed by a youngTady who is destined to make her mark some day, unless some one interferes. She has already made her mark in several places, in fact, but these flowers certainly deserve something more than a mere passing notice. They are not copied from the monotonous and tedious uniformity so much affected in nature, but they stand out by themselves and attract the attention at once, because of their bold originality. Instead of copying nature, and thus becoming tiresome, she has constructed a flower that is a cross between a rose cancer and a ginger cooky. It grows on a perpendicular stem that looks like a dark-green hat-rack with buds on it, that remind the enraptured spectator of an aggravated felon on a dark red thumb, just peeping out of a pale green, weather-beaten bandage. Nothing so bold in conception or so utterly free from conventionality has come within my range of observation for years. The inflammatory condition of the blossom itself, the bold and mathematically perpendicular poise of the stem, and the early stages of eruption visible in the complexion of the bud, challenge the admiration of the philanthropist and the Board of Health. It stands out as n work of art, alone and safe from imitation. It certainly has never been successfully imitated by nature, and Ido not think it ever will be. While nature loves to give us freaks now and then, I may safely say that she will never furnish us with a flower like this, a flower that look,? as though it had been nailed on the parent stem with shingle-nails, while the foliage, it would seem, was cut out of sheetiron and riveted to the curtain by the hand of a master. It is one of those mock-eyed, fragile blossoms of the vale that you could successfully use iu beating out a man’s brains.

A Little Hard o’ Hearing.

Jonathan Chace, the quaint old Rhode Island Quaker —who has a tender side, by the way, for all the victims of Cupid—was taking the subscriptions of his colleagues of the Senate for the wedding present they were to give Gen. Anson McCook, the Secretary of the Senate, at his marriage. He went to L'olph, of Oregon, and said: “We are going to give McCook a wedding present. How much will you subscribe?” Dolpli seemed astonished. Finally he said, with some appearance of confusion: “Why, l’il give something, of course, if you want me to, but I’d like a little time to think about it.” “Oh, certainly,” responded Chace, somewhat miffed, and then he walked off. Then Dolph hurried over to his colleague, Mitchell, of Oregon, and said to him in a puzzled way: “Chace asked me just now to join him in giving a wedding present to his cook. What do you suppose he’s driving at? When my cooks get married I don’t go around asking other fellows to send them wedding presents.” “Oh,” laughed Mitchell, who had been in the Senate before, “he meant McCook—Anson McCook, the Secretary, you know. It’s the custom, you know, for Senators to give the officers of the Senate presents when they get married.” “Oh,” said L'olph, breathing freely again, “of course, of course. ” It is related that when the first Maine railroad was started, about forty years ago, W. C. Pitman, of Bangor, was a conductor. One rainy morning he started from Waterville, and on arriving at North Belgrade, a flag station, not seeing any flag, ran by the station. Just as the train had passed the red flag was run out for some passengers to get on. Mr. Pitman stopped his train, and asked Stephen Richardson, the station agent, why he did not display the flag before, Mr. Richardson replied: “Be you a-goin’ to run your train in rainy weather? I didn’t think you would. ” If you grasp a rattle-snake firmly about the neck he can not hurt you, says a contemporary paper. To be perfectly safe, it would be well to let some one else do the grasping.

Manual Training in Philadelphia.

A revolution in educational methods has occurred in the city of Philadelphia. The Spring Garden Institute, established long ago by Mr. Charles G. Leland, showed the practicability cf liand-training; Mr. Edward T. Steel, President of the Board of Education, for years advocated manual training in a general way; and Mr. James Ma-Al-ister, who went from Milwaukee, Wis., in 18S3, to accept the superintendency of the schools of the city, writes that he found public opinion fully alive to the importance of manual training being added to the public education, but that nothing had been done to give it organized shape. It is easy to understand how, under his magnetic influence, the movement quickly crystallized. Moved by the persuasive force of his tongue and pen, the “Councils” appropriated money, and the Board of Education organized a manual training school as part of the educational system of the city, as free as any other of the public schools; and it went into operation in September last, with one hundred and thirty pupils—all that could then be accommodated. It 3 course of instruction is similar to that of the schools of Boston, St. Louis, and Chicago. The school is a high school, with manual exercise constituting a feature of equal important e with the mental exercises. The first observation in regard to this new school made by visitors is that the pupils take more interest in its exercises than is usually taken by pupils in the exercises of schools of that grade. The school meets with the most unqualified approval of the public, and the Board of Education designs to establish three or four more schools of similar character. It is the purpose of the Superintendent and the board to furnish the school with a reference library and a small museum, “illustrating the raw materials and manufactured products of the more important industries of the country, and, to some extent, drawings and models showing the evolution of the fundamental tools and machines.”

Another feature of the reorganized educational system of Philadelphia is the School of Industrial Art, which is open to the grammar-school pupils of both sexes, who are admitted once a week for two hours. The course of instruction comprises drawing and design, modeling, wood-carving, and certain exercises in carpentry and joinery, and metal-work. A third feature is sewing, which is made part of the regular course of instruction iu every girls’ school above the primary. The work is graded, and forms a system of sequential steps. Thirty-two special sewing instructors are now employed, but it is intended ultimately to have the instruction given by the regular class instructors. A fourth feature is the free kindergarten, which can not be made part, officially, of the public-school establishment, because the legal school age in Pennsylvania is six years. But an association called the Sub-Primary School Society has founded twenty-eight kindergartens, and supports them, with the aid of an appropriation from the School Board, as adjuncts to the regular schools. Philadelphia has thus the most complete course of manual instruction of any city in the country, consisting of the Kindergarten, the School of Industrial Art for the boys and girls of the grammar schools, and the “Manual Training School” for boys from fourteen to eighteen years of age. Superintendent Mac Alister writes that the conviction obtains among members of the Board of Education of Philadelphia, and is, in his opinion, growing in the public mind generally, that every child should receive manual training; that a complete education implies the training of the hand in connection with the training of the mind, and that this feature must ultimately be incorporated into the public education. He concludes : “I feel encouraged to go forward with' the work. The great principles which underlie the system are With me intense convictions, and they mean nothing less than a revolution in 'iducation. The new system is the realization of the dream of every great ffiinker and reformer in education, from Comenius, Locke,and Rousseau to Pestalozzi, Froebel, and Spencer. My conviction and action in connection with this movement are based upon what, in my judgment, should constitute an education designed to prepare a human being for the social conditions of to-day, and not merely for vhe industrial demands of our time. And this must be realized in the public schools, or they will fail in accomplishing the ends for which they were instituted and maintained.” —Charles H. Mam, in Harper's Magazine.

Education is often valued not for itself, but merely as a stepping stone to wealth. We give it to the young and they take it not so much that they may become through it better, nobler, happier, and more useful men and women, as that they may gain the power of rising from a lower to a higher station, from poverty to mediocrity, or from mediocrity to wealth. Thus the education that fits them only to adorn a humble position happily and contentedly, .instead of cultivating ambitious longings, that cherishes health and strength of body and fills the mind with resources for its own activity and power for it 3 own development, without any direct reference to amassing a fortune, is too often neglected for narrower and shallower instruction. Is not the mind more than the purse? Shall we sell the one to fill the other, or shall we rather spend freely of our gold to build up the intellect, to cultivate the taste, to fortify the principles ? The reason why egotists find the world so ugly is because they only see themselves ill it.

HUMOR.

A ballet-girl is something of a philosopher; she believes in gauze and effect. Whf.n a young girl goes to church to exhibit her new sealskin she certainly might be called sack-religious. Mrs. Coyne has sued a man in Youngstown, Ohio, for damages for breach of promise. He don’t want Coyne, but she does. Two stupid hunters shot a woman, mistaking her for a bear. A woman should never be mistaken for anything but a dear. Policeman —“Y r ou have been standing here for an hour. Move on.” Ab-sent-minded chess-player—“ Beg pardon, sir, it’s your move. ” — Judge. There is not so much difference between a restaurant and a cattle barn as one would at first suppose. The former ha 3 many tables, and the latter has its stables, too.— Chicago News. A Paris correspondent writes that he finds great difficulty in gaining admittance into the cemeteries. Let him try the experiment of dying, and tho gates will be opened to him.— Hartford Times. Mrs. Elberon—“lt seems to me Mrs. Exeter wears loud colors.” Mr. Elberon “Be charitable, my dear. Perhaps you don’t know that poor Mrs. Exeter is almost totally deaf. ” — Boston Beacon. “Now, sir, you had better,” said a Boston faith-doctor to a patient he had been treating, “tell me just how you feel.” “Weil, sir,” replied the victim, “I feel like a fool; how much is your bill ?”— New York Sun. “Look here,” remarked De W’iggs to the corner grocer, “this pavement here is awfully slippery. Why don’t you throw some sand on it?” “Can’t get a bit,” replied the grocer. “Well, throw some sugar over it; the pavement won’t know the difference.” “Chestnut!” yelled the grocer.— Pittsburgh Chronicle.

An exchange, in speaking of a certain man, says: “He will spend some time looking after his business interests in this vicinity.” This comes of carelessness. He should have kept his business interests tied up in some safe place and then he wouldn’t have to spend valuable time hunting after them. —Estelline Bell. “You can’t avoid a stroke of lightning by dodging,” says a newspaper item. This is a very long-headed statement and will probably cause a sensation when it gets out. It is equally impossible to avoid a stroke of lightning by going out the back door and telling the office boy to say you are off on a fishing trip and won’t be back for two weeks.— Estelline Bell. A critic visited the studio of a painter the other day. “Very good, this cavalier,” said he, eying a new painting with the air of a connoisseur; “but I think his legs are a little too long.” “Ah!” replied the artist. “I am very well satisfied with what you say. Mons. A , who was just here, said they were too short. They must therefore be about right.”— French Paper. Wife— “ Well, Ned, what do you think Charlie wants now? He asked me to-day if I wouldn’t help him tease you to buy him a bicycle. ” Indulgent Father (who once had ambitions himself) —“Bicycle? Nonsense. The boy can’t have it. Tell him to go up in the attic, and fall down two flights of stairs. It will be just about the same thing, and save me sloo.”— Somerville Journal. The following note was found tacked to a pine tree in the Stamp Creek district of Bartow County: “To the Overseare &, rode bans, I hante aßle to work & it hante no yuse of Me ex come in to the Rode A 1 wood Be Glad es you all Wood lete mee ofe & es you wonte Guste lay oft Me so Mutch on the Weste ende & when i get aßle i will worke it oute es hit will suite you alle.” —Savannah (Go.) News. THE CULTURED MAID. - She comes from Boating, And like a frosting Is the polish that shs puts on every part ; She’s read in Ctcsah, And truly she’s a Cultivated maid in evory modern art. She’s up in nowness, And with a howness Surely wonderful for one that’s in her ’teens ; She’s read in Schiller, And what a filler Is she when she hits a plate of Boston beans 1 — Tid-Bits. Bad winds blow goad ; we’ll still be stout And let no ill our feelings harrow; The freeze that brings the plumber out Destroys the ugly English sparrow. Courier-Journal.

For the Minstrels.

Why does the historical picture, “Meeting of Mary Queen of Scots and James 1.,” remind the spectator of a celebrated actress? Because it was “Mary and ’er son. ” What is the difference between a railway brakeman and a dancing-master ? One couples trains and the other trains couples. What is the difference between a celebrated beauty and a woman paying court to a man ? One is a fair woman and the other is a woo-man affair.— Detroit Free Press.

It Wasn’t a Rabbit.

Doctor—Well, do you think the dog was mad when he bit you ? Solomon—Waal, sah, I guess he war rudder put out, by de way he ’ducted hisses. Doctor. —No, I don’t mean angry; I mean rabid. Solomon—Oh, no, sah; it wasn’t a rabbit. I’se shuah ’twas a dog, sah.— Harper's Bazar. To think you can do another’s task better than another is human.