Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 November 1886 — Page 6

COURTING OF TAM AND CLAHI. “Mi?s Clari-Net,” said Tam-Bourine, A cittern by her side, Tve courted euphone nigh sixteen Long years to guitar bride. 'Per-harpslchord-ed yon too slow And in a humdrum way, Or, maybe, you prefer oboe. Than husband to obey. if viol-as my love must cheat, If violone must die, You are the calliope to meet Up yonder in the sky." "bh, Fiddlesticks !” the maiden cried, "You spin it out forever; If vou’ro a harping for a bride, You’ll pop tune-night—horn never.” He flute to kiss the maiden coy, Who, blushing, cried solo; "Don’t! Stop’Tis wrong to kiss hautboy Till he’s my hus-banjo. ” “I’ve waited sixteen long years,” he cried, “And I cornet wait longer.” “Oh, dear,” the cymbal maid replied, “I’ll shut my eyes—you’re stronger.” I whistle little one he took, But"one did not restore The maiden’s sight. To “make her look” Organ he took life more. —Callanan Courant.

THE PATRIOTIC BOY.

A TRUE STORY OF 1861. One morning in May, 1861, a knot of young mon were standing at the corner of the principal street in a little town not far from Boston, excitedly discussing the latest news, for the torch of war had been lighted at Fort Sumter, and the red glow tilled the land, putting a stop for a time to all business whatever; till the first volunteer armies had been enlisted and sent out to crush the rebellion. Among the- rest, not talking, but with eager eyes and ears drinking in all that was said, stood Albert 0., a boy of sixteen years, son of the wealthiest man in the place. “I would enlist this minute.” said Charley 8., “if there was any one to look after my dear old mother. She is so feeble now, and her little property is not quite enough to keep her, so how cuu I go?” “I don’t see how you can, Charley,” spoke another young man; “but I wish you could, lor you aud I have been chums so long that 1 would bo glad if we could be ! comrades still.” “I want to go,” said an older man in the group—a grave, sad-looking man; “I know if my Mary was living she’d tell mo to go at once and serve my country; but how can I leave my motherless children?” “I thought their aunt Emily took care of them,” remarked another. “So she does, but she could not afford to do so for nothing. I pay her S2OO a year for their board aud what teaching she can give them till they can go to the public school. If they were old enough Jcunv could teach and Willie could work in a machine shop, aud so take care of themselves; but now they are too young for me to leave." “And I,” said another. And they talked about the new company, and who of their town’s people were to be officers aud so on till one of them turned to the boy, asking: “Is it true. Albert, that your father's book-keeper is going as ensign?” “I don't know," replied AlLert, “he has said nothing to me about it.” “Yes, he is going,” suid one of the men. “I went to the store not au hour since and he told me so.” So the talk went on. and Albert listened awhile, but presently left them, and going to his father’s house went to his own room, ■where he locked himself in; and sitting down by the window, gazed out upon the sky, apparently lost in anxious thought. At last his face brightened; an earnest, ardent look came into his dark blue eyos; ho staited up aud walked mound the room excitedly. Then leaving bis room he went to his father’s office. Mr. O. was very much occupied, and Albert waited as patiently as he could till the visitor was gone, then went in. “Father,” Raid he, “can you spare five minutes to talk with me?” “Yes, my son, ton if you like.” “Is it tiue, father, that Mr. J., your bookkeeper, has enlisted?” “Yes, Albert, he is going as ensign; he told me so this morning, and I have sent money up to your mother not an hour ago, thnt she may buy the material for the regimental colors. Y’our sisters will help her make the flag,and all must bo ready in four days to present to the regiment before they leave.” This news was very interesting to Albert, but ho did not comment on it; his mind was full of another subject. “Father,” he asked; “have you engaged another book-keeper?” “No, I have not. I think I must send to Boston and advertise for one.” “Oh, don’t, father! Oh, how I wish—oh, if I dare to say it!” His father looked at him in surprise, and said kindly: “You surely know, my son, that you may dare say anything to me.” “0, father,” the boy exclaimed impetuously, “you know how much I wish to serve my county? And 3’ou said I was not old enough to go to war, but might prove myself a better patriot by staying at home—and now here is a chance to do something; and, father, do not refuse to let me, for if you do I shall break my heart.” “My dear Albert, you know I never refuse you anything reasonable.” “I know it, father, but this—O, I know just what you will say! But I can’t help it! Father, this morning I heard some of the men talking, and there were two who wanted to enlist and would, but one had an iutirm old mother to look after, and the other had two little children—motherless children—and so they could not either of them go, though they wanted to so much/’ “And so you want me to provide for the old mother and two little children? Well, I’ll try to do it—but——” “No, no, father, not that; I l now you have quite enough on your hands as it is—so many to help—but, father, I want to take care of them myself.” “Y’ou take care of them!” said the father, in astonishment. “Yes, father, if you’ll only let me be bookkeeper in Mr. J.’s place. You know he has been teaching me lately, and before he toes he can show me just how the books sland—and if. I should require any looking over, why, father, I’ll work for half price. You pay him one hundred dollars a month, and if you’ll pay me fifty, it will be quite enough for all I want, then ” “But, Albert,’’ interrupted his father, “wait a moment —don’t get excited over it, but give me a little time to consider! You wish to be my bookkeeper?®' \ 1

“Y’es, father/'. “But in that case you need to be here in the office all day, every day—from eight in the morning till six in the evening.” “Yes, father, 1 know it.” “Have you thought how arduous and se vere a life that will be for you?” “Yes, father, I have thought it all ovei and am not afraid. Jnst try me and you’l. see how I’ll stick to business.” “But then your studies, my son. Have you given up your plan of going to college? And must I relinquish my hope of seeing my son one of our ablest lawyers and politicians before I die? Must this be given up?” “No, father, not yet. I have thought it all over in my own room this morning; and though a week since it would have almost broken my heart to have met with any delay in my studies, yet now I think I can wait a year longer before going to college; and by studying evenings I will not lose anything I now know.” “But it the war should not be ended in a year—if it should last till yon are too old to go. to college—or if these men should never come back—should be killed —then you would have their families to provide for all their lives. Would you not then regret what you had done?” The boy’s face grew very pale. He sat silent awhile; the large tears came in his eyes and splashed down, but he soon brushed them away and looked up with an untroubled face, saying: “You know, father, that many of our most eminent men never went through college; so if I live I promise you that your heart shall yet grow warm with love and pride for me.” He did not know, as his father rose and turned to his desk, that his heart was already throbbing with love and pride for his son; but he heard the quiver in his voice as Mr. 0. replied: “I honor your sentiment, my son, but can not give you my answer till to-morrow morning. In the meantime do not mention the subject to any one. And now 1 must excuse you, Albert, lor I have something else to to do.” So Albert hastened home to liis own room, where he was soon immersed in bookkeeping, that he might be sure of his proficiency in case his father might accept his offer. That night Mr. 0. consulted his wife, and in the morning told Albert he might do as he wished. Charley B. and William H. were very much surprised to hear Albert’s proposition; but when they found he was in earnest, and his father approved his plan, they enlisted and went, leaving their dear ones in his care. And well did he redeem his promises. Good old widow B. grew to love him as her sou; and many a prayer went up from her heait for Albert. He watched over the little children, too, in a loving, brotherly way, going to see them often, and fr ‘quently sending them little gilts “from brother Albert” when he could not go. Then they and their maiden aunt Emily were invited to his father’s house every Sunday to dinner and tea. The four dollars a week which he gave aunt Emily, and the three dollars which he gave Mrs. 8., still left him money enough to help many other soldiers’ families, and Albert fully realized the truth. “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” The year was not quite gone when Charley B. came home with one leg, and soon the news came of William H., “killed on the field of battle.” Then Mr. O. provided for the two children, leaving them still in the care of their dear aunt Emily; and when Albert had instructed Charley B. in the mysteries of book-keeping Mr. O. took him into his employ and sent Albert to college.

Sweet Sayings.

“Oh!” “Bah!” “Nice!” “Meanness!” “Too good!” “She flirts!” “Sour grapes!” “Old tomboy!” “Mean old thing!” “A regular liar!” “He makes me sick!” “He drinks on the sly!” “He’s a crabbed old thing!” “She thinks she’s somebody!” “He never could take a joke!” “He never draws a sober breath!” “He’s as poor as a church mouse!” “He’s mortgaged for all he’s worth!" “She doesn’t look decent in anything!” “He ought to be tarred and feathered !” “She married him just for his money!” “He’s tighter than the bark on a birch tree!” “She runs with everybody that comes along!” “He don’t know beans when the bag’s untied!” “They won’t live together for six months, I know!” “I wouldn’t trust him as soon as I would a dog!” “I wouldn’t have him doctor au old sick dog for me!” “If you waut everybody to know it, just tell it to her!” “He ought to be ridden on a rail and taught a good lesson!” The above and hundreds of similar expressions can be heard any day on the streets, in the parlors, in the stores, and in tho homes. A liberal reward is offered to any one who will prepare a similar list of good expressions about people in as common use. Prof. Richard A. Proctor maintains that most of the meteor streams with which the earth comes iu contact e derived from the earth itself —that thrown off by. volcanic action at a time when the internal forces of our planet were sufficiently active to give them the initial velocity requisite to carry them beyond the earth’s attraction —some twelve miles a second. Comets, which he regards as the parents of meteor streams, he thinks may have originated outside our solar system. Most of the < omets whose orbits belong to our system he thinks originated in the larger planets. The sun is now perhaps giving birth frequently to comets, which probably pass beyond the limits of its attraction.

THE GARDEN OF THE GODS.

he Wonderful Bights to Be Seen Near Colorado Springs. It is but a natural transition from he “Valley of the Angels" to “the .arden of the Gods”—a few weeks ago a the so mer, and now among the stone ods of the latter, 'lhe garden lies b mt five miles from Colorado Springs .ad two from Manitou, and is at the ery foothills of the Ilockies, and the esult of the erosion of huge masses of lighly colored sandstone. Formerly t massive ledge cropped out here, expend ng south toward Cheyenne Mounain. At first it was perhaps covered with earth and grass—the former the washings of the range—but the wind ind rain of centuries exposed it, and finally the ledge stood bare, and being extremely soft and friable it quickly wore away, not regularly, but here and here, soft portions giving way quickly, the harder parts showing greater resistance, so that now the stone remaining presents "the most grotesque and remarkable appearance imaginable. From the east the disconnected masses present a massive front; but viewing them from the north or northwest, what were apparently mountains are now seen to be thin slabs, of a curious and wedge-like appearance, as if rocks several hundred feet high had been shaved down to such an attenuation that they could hardly hold together, and in pairs and groups planted in the soil. I approached the garden in an unusual way—by horseback over the rolling prairie—and as we reached the last elevation before descending into this favored spot we stopped our horses and with them enjoyed the view. To the east a vast sea of rolling prairie, with here and there a white Spot, like a ship, telling of the great cattle interests of the State. Away to the west, almost above us, rose the Rockies, cut and seared by innumerable canyons, the ridges and ranges rising higher and higher, culminating in the -white-robed king, Pike’s Peak. On the north slope of Cheyenne Mountain is the grave of “H. H,,” facing the gateway of the grand canyon and the Garden of the Gods. Inimemediately at our feet the latter lay, a strange mixture of vivid greens—the carpet of grass—reds, whites aud grays —the latter the sandstone rocks. Some of the lofty monoliths had windows in their tops, where one might well imagine some Turkish morning call to prayers was made. A group of huge rocks to the left were divided, forming natural pillars several hundred feet high; and after winding down into the vailoy wo passed between these grim seutinels and were in the garden. At every turn the rocks take new shapes. Now they are slabs cut from some redhot volcanic rock and placed here by some Titanic worker to cool. So vivid are the tints, so utterly crude, vivid, and unharmonious, that we can almost feel the glow. A few steps on and all has changed. The slabs which have been pyramidalshaped monuments now seem to take human form, or resemble a group of mammoth ten-pins, and these huge bowlders on the mountain side are the balls with which the gods are wont to bowL But there are no gods here, as they could never have so long resisted the temptation to bowl some of these gigantic pins into the valley below. The road winds about among the ledges, so that the strange forms can be examined from any point, and perhaps at what is called the Man tou entrance are seen some of the most remarkable formations. Hero an acre or so is covered with stone toadstools, so exact that they might well bo taken for the gigantic growths of some former age hardened into stone and exposed as are the fossil forests of Arizona. In some the top portion was six or seven feet in diameter, wliilo the stem would be hardly as large as a man’s body. Evei’ywhere about here ruin aud disintegration was apparent. Great ledges ivero bent and broken, hanging in space ready to fall. Weird faces, contorted bodies, arms lifted up in supplication, strange, reptile-like forms—in fact, there was nothing that the imagination could picture but found a place in this motley assemblage. By the road, and destined some day to roll into it, stands a bowlder weighing perhaps a hundred tons, that can easily be rocked, so deftly lias it been balanced by wind and rain. North of the Garden of the Gods is a smaller continuation even more remarkable. This is Glen Erie, the pvoperty of Gen. William ,T. Rainier, who has converted the ontYe region into a beautiful park, throwing it open to the general public. The monoliths here are extremely peculiar. One rises to a height o.’ throe hundred feet and is scarcely six feet in diameter; enlarging at the top and leaning a trifle, it has the appearance of a grotesque human being or statue. It is i ailed the Majpr Domo, or, as an old Scotch lady informed me at a little house at the entrance, where curiouties were sold: “It were named a ter the Major Dormer.” —Letter from Co or ado.

A melodramatic, as well as scientific, picture of the inconvenience to tho living arising from tho presence of the dead is drawn by Dr. Eklund, of Stockholm. To remedy tho evils resulting from delay in burials and subsequent decomposition, the doctor proposes to render some simple process of embalmment compulsory, and suggests the creation of a corps of embalmers for that purpose. This plan rather runs counter to modern views on the subject of burial, which tend to favor methods allowing of rapid disintegration, and is, besides, far inferior to cremation both from a financial and a practical point of view. Notwith-

standing all that may be urged—and urged truly—against the practice of inhumation, it is a matter whereiD prejudice, custom, and a dislike ol .hnovation will long hold scientific arguments and methods in check, to the greater or less detriment of publichealth.

What Is Culture?

This is a very large question, but we must help along our bashful young friend: “Will you kindly inform a young man what the essentials of ‘culture’ are? also what are proper works to read ? I desire to be a good conversationalist, but always feel ill at ease and am bashful. - Can you suggest a way to successfully ggercome the latter?” Ralph Waldo Emerson prefixes to an essay oficulture these lines, from which, young man, you may try to get a general notion of what culture is: “Can rules or tutors educate The demigod whom we await? Ho must be musical, Tremulous, impressional, Alive to gentle influence Of landscape and of sky, And tender to the spirit-touch Of man’s or maiden’s eye; But to his native center fast, Shall into Future fuse the Past, And the world’s flowing iates in his own mold recast." Do these lines only serve to mystify the subject still farther for .you? Well, that is because Emerson himself could not exactly define culture, and if you read his essay through you would probably be even more in the dark. Indeed, it does not seem to us the wonderful work the disciples and followers of the Concord philosopher thought it to be at the time it first appeared. Culture, dear boy, has come to be a cant term, and no end of nonsense and platitude has been written and talked about it since the day when Emerson made it the theme of Boston discussion. You want to know what is necessary to make you a cultivated man. Everything within t he range of knowledge, of thought, and of taste is necessary. All good books will help you to the end, and some which are not good may assist you in the way of comparison. Association with cultivated people and conversation with them are indispensable aids. The taste to discriminate the good from the bad in all art is essential. Social refinement is requisite. But nobody can know it all. You can learn only a very little, but what you learn learn thoroughly. Be careful to read the books of the masters of the 1 terary art, so that you will be insensibly affected by their style until you come at last to distinguish and prefer and require the superior sort. If you go to hear music, see to it that it is the music of the great artists, and take pains to look at good pictures, for gradually you will find yourself learning to enjoy them alone. And so in all things seek the best and reject the poor and commonplace. As to conversation, you will get along well enough in that wlien you become interested in what interests cultivated people. You will forget yourself in your absorption in what you are talking about. That is the way to overcome bashfulness, which comes from self-consciousness. Remember that you are not so important in other people’s eyes as in your own, and they are not singling you out for observation. You are only one among many—a drop in the bucket of humanity. So don’t worry yourself about what people are thinking of you, for they are likely to think of you not at all, or in the most careless way, unless you attract their attention by your awkward bashfulness. Even then what they think is of little consequence. What you are is the essential matter. Brave it out and regard indifference with philosophy. Cultivation ? That is something upon which a man must expend his whole life’s effort, and when all is done he will only have started on his quest. — New York Sun.

Hadn't Eaten Anything.

A negro, in great pain, sent for a phvs’eian. The doctor, upon arriving, asked: “Have you been eating anything calculated to hurt you?” “Oh, no, sail, not er tall.” “Any fruit?” “No, sail, not er tall.” “Well, tell me what you did yesterday?” “Wall, sah, yistidy mornin’ I went down ter nier daughter ’Tildy’s house. She wan’t at home, an’ I sot down ter wait fur her. Wh le lookin’ er roun’ I seed er big watermilon in er tub o’ water, an’ 1 tuck it out an’ eat it. Den, ,ez ’Tildv d dn’t come I went ober ter Unk Ab Moore’s house. Da wuz eat n watermilon an’ I lined in. Alter dis, I went down ter do < otton w’«r house. Foun’ er ha’f er watermilon on er box, an’ ez it ’peered ter be sufferin' I eat it. I come home ’bout dis time, but ez I didn’t hab no appertite fur dinner I went out an’ got me er watermilon. Erbont er hour nr ter d's I went ober ter Unk Bill Gray’s an’ he p em eat some watermilon. Dat’s erbout all. No, sah, didn’t eat nutliin’ ter hurt me, lessen it wuz er couple er mush milons dat I eat las’ night. Hole on er minit. Lemme see. Oh, yas, I did eat erbout er do'en years o’ b’iled co’n an’ erbout er hafer peck o’ peaches.” —Arkansaw Traveler. A Hopeless Case. The younger brother who will yell “Rats” just as his sister has got comfortably settled in a hammock vis-a-vis with her best young man on a garden chair, pins his faith in the resulting effect on feminine inability to reason out her security from her situation, and he is rarely disappointed —until his mother gets hold of him, at least.— Somerville Journal .

HUMOR.

A small country seat—the milkstool. Always ready, to take a hand in—a tricky employer. Example of tho “Ups and Downs of Life” Being hard up, and consequently cast down. “For a young woman to begin to brash the dust off a young man’s coat” is said to be the first symptom that the young man is in peril. Do lobsters shrink in boiling, is a question that has recently been raised. It is quite natural that they should shrink from boiling:— Texas Siftings. THE SELFISH MAX. He has within him little heart, With selfishness he’s crammed, Who cares not, if he saves himself, W’hoover else fs damned. —Boston Courier. A doctor is sometimes a cure-ious individual. The “sometimes” is the only thing that keeps this statement out of the realm of fiction.— Merchant Traveler. A writer says that the overtaxing of children is ono of the evils of the age. Some of the property-holders of Burlington think that tho overtaxing of parents is about as bad.— Burlington Free Press. He —“Ha! ha! ha! Here is a good hit in this paper at the female sex.” She —“ What does it say about the women ?” He—“lt says that more than half the women in this country are crazy.” She (with a sigh)—“l expect that’s so. There are a great many married women in this country.”— Texas Siftings. “My dear,” he hiccoughed, while she was giving him a scathing lecture for being out so late and coming home in such a state; “don’t be—liic—too hard upon a feller. I’m not so bad after all—liic. Give the devil his due.” “I m giving you your due,” she said, and he expostulated no more.— Boston Courier. A medical journal tells of a young woman who contracted tho habit of chewing coffee, at last consuming half a pound a day; but it doesn’t explain whether she acquired a taste for the fragrant berry by going out between the acts or winking when she called for a glass of soda water when on her way home from the “lodge.” three little maids at school. Three little inaids at school are we, Mad as school girls well can be, Fun all over, no longer free. Threo littie maids at school? Algebra is not much fun, Compositions must be done, All ourlessona uro just begun. Threo little maids at school! Three little maidens most contrary, Gone to the ladies’ seminary, Bound to its humdrum tutelary. Throe little maids at school! “Yes, sir,” said the Great Traveler, “I have seen, with my own eyes, a wild Indian take the scalp of a white man —actually lift the hair from his head — and it made my blood run cold.” “That’s nothing,” said the Skeptical Boarder, “that’s nothing; right here in Lynn, on Market street, I have seen a man actually take three men in succession by the scalp and actually lift their hair from their heads.” “Why, the man must have been crazy drunk or a lunatic,” said the G. T. “Perfectly sane and sober as I am,” replied the S. B. “Well, who in the name of goodness was he?” “He was a barber,” solemnly said theS. B.— Lynn Union. A grocer in an Indiana town, who ordered his goods Irom Chicago, was charged by an Indianapolis drummer with a want of patriotism in not patronizing home institutions. “Will you give me ninety days’ credit ?” asked the grocer. “Of course.” “And then extend me thirty days further?” “Perhaps.” “And if I fail, will you compromise for eighteen cents on the dollar, and help me beat all other creditors? That’s what my Chicago house is doing fpr me, and about every third order they throw in a dozen bedcords or a dollar-clock, as a free gift.” Wall Street News.

Getting a Drink.

“I was in Dakota myself,” remarked a passenger, “and I saw how easily some of these tramps make a living, for I suppose they call it a living when they get a drink of whisky and something to eat thrown in. The tramps were thick and had been for some time. They would hang around a small town and bother the people almost to death. It is really dangerous to have so many of these vagabonds about. But they won’t work, they tell me, and the result is that it is pretty difficult to get rid of them. “Up in a little town—the name I can’t recall—l happened to be waiting from one train until another. There was noth gto do, so I went into a saloon to get some beer. "While there drinking three of these tramps came in and odered three drinks of whisky. “ ‘Have you got any stuff?’ said the saloon-keeper. “ ‘Course,’ replied one of the thirsty trio, ‘we’s playing the “crow” act, we is.’ “ ‘Where?’ asked the man behind the bar. “The spokesman named the farm at which he was employed, showed an order, and the three men got their drinks and departed. When they went out 1 asked what was meant by the ‘crow act,’ when he told me that some of the farmers got the tramps to take the part of the scarecrow in the wheat fields and keep the birds away. The tramps took turns, he said, in standing up on a platform high above the wheat and occasionally thawing a rock at a flock of birds. As fhere was no work about it the tramps took it. It paid them very little, usually two or three drinks arid a bite to eat, but even this they considered living, as long as they did not have to work for it.” — St. Paul Globe.