Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 October 1887 — Page 6

BELSHAZZAR’S FEAST. BY FEBTINAX. ’Twas night in Babylon, and the full moon. Like silver, glistened in the eastern sky; The season of the year was balmy June, And lerfuwed zephyrs were gently floating by: The night was glorious, and overhead Too stars, like gems, seemed strung on silver thread. Within the palace walls was revelry, "And beauty and brave men were gathered tnere,;” The proudest scions of Syria's chiva'ry, Docked in their garments rich beyond compare ; And every soul seemed brilliant and bright, In tone, in keeping with the perfumed night. Belsliazznr sat upon a throne of gold, Men bowed to him as if he was a “god;” Brave wurriors, who in the field were bold, tibo jK like a girl at the King's angry nod; Be’shazzar was a tyrant, and ids hroath Deere, d at will the greutost subject's death. Belshazzar feasted with his concubines— Tne richest wines of Syria freely flowed; Gay forms were decked with rubies from the mines That Mature had on Syria bestowed, So lavish had the hand of Nature been, No feast liko this on tho wholo earth was seen. The feast was lagging, w'hen Belshazzar cried: “Bring forth t:fu sacred vessels, fill them high With tho host v. ines within my vaults espied • To-night wo drink, to-iliorrow we may die. I mean the vessels sacred to the Lord— The prizes taken by my father's sword. “When my great father to Judea wont, And killed the Israelite with spear and sword, He brought the people captive to his tent And sj)oilod the temple built unto the Lord; My gracious father diu whato’er he pleased— He all the golden holy vessels seized. “Our ‘god,’ great Baal, hath never been desjjoiled, His votaries flourish like tho Syrian date; His temple's altars never wore defiled— He was, ho is, tho arbiter of fate. Fill you the sacrod gohlots to tho brim, Wo how to Baal, honor and health to him!” Tho blessed vessols Solomon had made Were brought in filled with the rich Syrian wine, And all their storied beauty was displayed Unto the gaze of each foul concubine, Who tempted Heaven by actions so unwise, Nothing should shock—nothing should cauao surprise. The King had seized the cup, and his full lips Had almost tasted the red wine within it; He sees u sight his senses doth oclipse; He reels, staggers, and falls down that minute. What was it made him lose hia brain’s command? He saw writing an unattended hand. Ho gazed, with palsy shook, tho courtiers’ eyes Followed tho line of vision to the wall; They saw the hand still writing, and surprise And fear their braven souses did appall. “What is the meaning of this dreadful thing? Does it moan death to us, or to the King? “Bring in the magi. Let them tho writing see. Lot them decipher what the writings mean. ” Thou from the banquet hall the guostsdid floe, O'ercome with terror at the unusual scene. Tho magi came and looked, but could not toll Whence came the words, from Heaven or from Hell. One came unto the King and thus ho spoke; “There is in Babylon a foreign youth; He is a Jew; his vows he nover broke; He worships 'God,' and always speaks tLe truth. I think, oh King, that he could tell to thee What means tho writing on the wall we see.” Daniel was brought within the banquet hall; He saw the writing, and waß sore amazed; He read tho words translated upon the wall, Then on the King ho, sorrowing, mournful, gazed, And said; “Oh, King, this fatoful message reads, •Thou and thy house are given unto the Hedes.’ ’’ Belshazzar's days were numbered at that timo ; “God’s” vengeance was decreed against his head; He had been tried and found guilty of crime ; Whom “God” condemns may be accounted dead. The next day’s sun saw Babylon city ta’en; The King and all his family were slain.

DARK AND FAIR BY TURNS.

BY RYE JOHNSON.

T was truly a startfcfipr ling experience, this 'J W that I am about to ,1 relate, and I try to | forget it. But Dr. Eane has requested yg me to write a de- - a tailed account, so I Mp shall let the world f share it with him. J My name in those days was Esther Dane, my home in Charleston, and I

■worked in a printing office. My father was -well off, but I had a passionate love for my work, typesetting, and worked in the office "of a popular daily, much against his will. The summer I was eighteen I became afflicted with a singular disease. I was very fair, with gray eyes and goldenbrown hair. Those who cared for me were kind enough to call me fair to look upon, and I loved my own face because it gained love from others. One day I discovered a small black spdt upon my right ear. I wondered over it very much, and when I saw it grow from day to day, spreading over my entire ear in a few weeks, it made me feel terribly. I arranged my hair in a way to hide it, but when it spread upon tho side of my face I gave up my place and went home. Father was frightened nearly to death over my strange appearance," and could scarcely believe it afforded me no pain or inconvenience. He would have me see a physician, so at my entreaty he took me to a great doctor in New York. We carefully concealed our identity, for I was very sensitive over the matter then. The case puzzled the learned man, and in fact we journeyed from city to city, puzzling every one we visited in turn. Some talked learnedly, using a string of unintelligible medical phrases. But none prescribed a remedy. All the time it grew and spread, until half my face was covered. Our constant travel, and seeing so many strange doctors, and hearing the matter so fully discussed, had cured me of my foolish sensitiveness. Of course I would not go out without a veil, but I ceased to worry and cry over it, and could even make merry about it. I remember telling a Chicago doctor, when my face was about equally divided into two colors, that I was a big dose of “ ’arf and ’arf. ” My chin became wholly black, and

over half of my forehead, but my nose and the rest remained white. There it stopped, and began spreading downward over my body. Then we noticed a difference in it. From being natural the black skin became velvety to the touch, like it sometimes is on a large mole or birth mark. Oh, but I was a queer-looking body then, hut I became so accustomed to it that I became careless about a veil, and would stupidly wonder what the matter was when people would cry out at sight of my hideousness. Then father took me to Paris. It was on the steamer that we made Dr. Kane’s acquaintance. He was a young man, but already had gained some reputation. He had become convinced that be had much yet to learn, so had thrown up a lucrative practice, to walk the Paris hospitals a year, or perhaps two. My strange case at once interested him. He asked questions until he knew as much about the matter as I did. He examined the black growth closely,

“ Esther! O, my God! Dead! Dead!”

and eventually c wned himself puzzled, as had many famous men before him. I liked him immensely, and, in my merry unconcern, turned much of his questioning into ridicule. Soon after our arrival in Paris a great medical convention took place, and one day Dr. Kane came for me. Only a few of the celebrities had ever heard of anything similar, and were unanimous in the opinion that there was no cure. I must go piebald all my life. We returned home, and father sold his possessions in Charleston. We hid ourselves in a pretty New York suburb. Dr. Kane returned a year later, and our curious friendship was renewed. He was very kind to me, was often at our house, rode, drove, and walked with me, spending as much time as he could spare from professional and other duties. He was always studying over my case, and tried many experiments, all to no purpose. I took a good deal of quiet comfort that summer. I was not happy. God help me, I never could be bappy again, for I loved Harry Kane. Sometimes I thought lie cared for me, but that was when we were riding or driving, and I was closely veiled—when he could not see my very hideous face.

Along in the fall he was called away, and would be absent some months. Soon after his departure I first became conscious, by physical sensations, that the blackness was a disease. A stinging, burning sensation began wherever there was a spot of color. I suffered tortures. Every cooling, soothing lotion imaginable was resorted to, advice was procured, but naught availed to allay my suffering. It lasted months. For many nights I never slept, and at length brain and nerve gave way, and I died. SStrango assertion to make, you say. Yes, I d ed, or the people thought I did. But every sense remained acutely alert—save feeling and breathing. I knew my body grew rigid, and cold as ice. I knew when I was arrayed for the grave and placed in my casket. I knew the peril I was in; that of being buried alive; but the rest from that agonized suffering was so exquisite that all else seemed of little moment. I heard, as one hears from afar, the voice of a man of God speaking words of comfort to my sorrowing frie ids. I heard the solemn “dust to dust” rattle upon my coffin, then sank to a total unconsciousness, as one sinks to a sweet sleep. My next sensation was cold, awful, deathly cold, and a feeling of numbness. I could not stir, or open my eyes, but feeling had returned to my whole body. Every part of it tingled and ached, and my hands and feet felt like blocks of ice. Presently I felt hands grasp me and extend me on what seemed a board, bond exclamations in different voices reached my dulled ears; then a dead silence followed. It was broken by a voice that—ah, God!—had power to call me from the dead. “What is the matter, gentlemen?” it asked, and footsteps approached me and paused beside me. “Good God! Estner!” Oh, how I strugled to break the invisible bonds that held me. “Esther, Esther! Oh, my Godl Dead, dead!” the dear voice moaned, and he passed a caressing hand over my poor mottled face. As it lingered against my lips I kissed it lightly, involuntarily. A great cry escaped him, and he

bent closely over me. I felt his breath ! npon my face. His lips touched mine. Then I lived. Had it been really death, instead of trance, I must have come to life then. He loved me! I opened my eyes, gave o;e quick glance about, then cried out in terror. Around stood many strange men, a 1 watch.ng and listening intently. The room seemed large and long, and was lit by many lamps. Grizzly skeletons hung here and there, and seemed to grin in ghastly mockery at me. “Dr. Kane!” I cried, finding my voice, “I am afraid ! Take me away!” He w;js white as death, and trembled so he could scarcely speak. “Gentlemen, this is a strange way to find a dear friend, and a queer endiug to our lecture, but I thank God for it. ” I was shaking like a leaf, my teeth chattering. I seemed dying of cold, and no wonder. I lay upon the dis-secting-table, with ro covering but my shroud, and had lain for hours in a fireless room. Taking me in his arms he carried me to an adjoining room. Two elderly physicians aided him in restoring warmth to my almost frozen body. I hen the burning, itching sensation began again, and putting up my hands, I ru bed my face vigorously. Imagine the amazement of us all when the black skin peeled off like a mask. Dr. Kane’s eyes gleamed like stars. Well, to make a long story short, in a few days all the diseased skin was gone, and I was as fair to look upon as ever, and oh, how proud and happy! My body had been stolen from the grave and shipped to Chicago. Dr. Kane was to have lectured to the students that night. You know the rest. Father and mother were like crazed people over my recovery, and could scarcely believe the fair-skinned girl Harry Kane so proudly introduced was the mottle-faced one they had so sorrowfully buried a short time before. It was not long before I became Dr. Kane’s happy wife, so there is nothing more to tell, only that years have passed and no signs of my strange disease have ever returned.

Don’t Hear Everything.

The art of not hearing should be learned by all. It is fully as important to domestic happiness as a cultivated ear, for which so much time and money are expended. There are so many thing which it is painful to hear, many which we ought not to hear, very many which, if heard, will disturb the temper, corrupt simplicity and modesty, detract from contentment and happiness, that every one should be educated to take in or shut out sounds, according to his pleasure. If a man falls into a violent passion, and calls us all maqner of names, at the first word we should shut our ears, and hear no more. If, in our quiet voyage of life, we find ourselves caught in one of those domestic whirlwinds of scolding, we should shut our ears as a sailor would furl his sa ls, and, making all tight, scud before the gale. If a hot and restless man begins to inflame our feelings, we should consider what mischief these fiery sparks may do in our magazine below, where our temper is kept, and instantly close the door.

If, as has been remarked, all the petty things said of one by heedless or ill-natured idlers were to be brought home to him, he would become a mere walking pin-cushion stuck full of sharp remarks. If we would be happy, when among good men, we should open our ears; when among bad men, shut them, it is not worth while to hear what our neighbors say about our children, what our rivals say about our business, our dress, or our affairs.

The art of not hearing, though untaught in our schools, is by no means unpracticed in society. We have noticed that a well-bred woman never hears a vulgar or impertinent remark. A kind of discreet deafness saves one from many insults, from much blame, from not a little connivance in dishonorable conversation. —Treasure Trove.

The steam-gauge should be so placed that the pressure can be read from any part of the engine-room, and it should be known to be correct at all times. Governors should always receive very careful attention to insure their proper action. If they are allowed to run dry or become gummed by accumulations of dirt and grease they will lose all sensitiveness of action and not properly control the speed of the engine. The foundation of a chimney is no place in which to get rid of the bats and other refuse brick that may have accumulated. It is safe to watch the builders very closely, and see that they do not put that kind of material in the chimneys they are building for you. Boilers do not improve by standing idle. They will rust very rapidly. An idle boiler, like an idle man, soon wears out. Sharp chisels should not be used to cut the scale off from a boiler sheet. You will cut the plate and do more harm than good. Use a light hammer. A belt that is slipping and refusing to do the work that is put upon it can be made to act all right if the pulleys over which it runs are made larger. Check valves that get stuck open can be closed by a slight tap of the hammer. But when they stick at all they should be opened as soon as the pressure can be shut off and thoroughly cleansed.— Power-Steam.

To get the oil out of a grindstone, make the stone as hot as safety will permit, and then cover it with a paste of whiting and water. The mixture will soon become filled with oil, when it may be scraped off and the process repeated until all the oil is extracted.

VICTIMS OF GRIM JUSTICE.

The Wives and Little Ones of the Condemned Chicago Anarchists. Women and Children Who Will Be Widowed and Orphaned by the Hangman. [CHICAGO COBBEBPOXDENCE.I -—lt is a trait of bain an nature, as universal as it is admirable, to extend sympathy to the families of men who meet with misfortune or are led into crime and up to the prison door or gallows’ step. “Can't you tell us something about the families of the condemned anarchists?" is an oftrepeated inquiry these days. One of the pris*v? ers aa already gone to the penitentiary, and the other seven are slowly approaching the gallows.

These circumstances seem for the moment to divert public attention from the men themselves and from tho crime for which they have been adjudged to suffer death to those who are to become widows and orphans. So much has been printed denunciatory of the prisoners and of their doctrines that the reader is not very well prepared for good words on behalf of the wives and mothers who have these many months ministered, so far as lay in their power, to tho comfort of the condemned. The conduct of Mrs. Lucy Parsons in preaching anarchy from one end of the country to the other, and in declaring that, although she “looked into the hereafter through a nooze, ” she would continue to proclaim herself an anarchist, has not produced a public feeling favorable to her; while, on the other hand, the eccentricities of Nina Van Zandt, who by a proxy marriage became the wife of Spies, have produced much more ridicule than sympathy. Notwithstanding these circumstances, a majority of the wives of the anarchists have kept themselves out of the newspapers by very properly attending to the duties of wife and mother. A grief too deep for tears was portrayed in the comely features of a young, neatly dressed woman who was seen emerging from the County Jail with two beautiful children dingtag to her skirts. Old, kind-hearted Jailer Folz looked wistfully at the retreating group os he remarked; “There’s a snbject worthy of sympathy. Poor woman ; in three weeks she is to wear a widow’s crape and her three babies destined to become orphans.”

The unfortunate mother had just been paying her regular morning visit to her husband, Adolph Fischer, one of the condemned anarchists. Some of his comrades wore still chatting

with their little ones and their faithful wives, who have these many months ministered, so far as lay in their power, to the comfort of the condemned men. But they have come and gone in a quiet way, without flaunting their grievances by expressions of wild vituperation against the “capitalistic system." They have been patient sufferers, hoping against hope, suppressing all outward signs of resentment, if they ever en-

Mrs. Tischer.

tertained any. against the authorities. And the current of public Bymjathy is rapidly directing attention to the families of the anarchists, whose domestic relations a casual inquiry will prove exceedingly pathetic. There is, for instance, the-blighted life of Mrs. Johanna Fischer. Her maiden name was Pfantz. She was bom in Baltimore in 1860, and married her stoic husband in St. Louis when

she was but 19 years of age, They settled in Chicago in 1883. Mrs. Fischer is a woman of quiet manners, rather inclined to be reserved. She knows nothing of the doctrines of anarchy, in the propagation of which her husband came to face the gallows, and has never interested herself in public ques-; tions of any sort. She is the

mother of three children, the youngest having been born Oct. 10 18S0, the day following that upon which Judge Gary pronounced sentence of death upon the seven prisoners. Hence her life has been full of family cares and duties. To these she has applied herself with motherly devotion, and has wen for herself the kindest regards of all her neighbors. Her parents reside in St. Louis In comfortable circumstances, and are highly respected by the better class of Germans in that city.

Although twenty-seven years of age, she looks much younger, notwithstanding the terrible ordeal which she has passed through dur-

ing the past eighteen months. But her moment of greatest anguish must have been when she received the message that the court had decreed Adolph Fischer should suffer the pena ty of death. \ When she had been partially .restored, she pressed the ‘•new-born babe to her heart and asked: “Is it a boy?"

Ckarley Fischer.

The nurse affirming her query, the poor mother exclaimed: “Thank heaven, then his name is Adolph.” When the little incident above related was told the condemned father a few hours later, the hardened man was touched to the heart. Tears dimmed his eyes, but he was unwilling to expose his emotion, and walked off to his cell without uttering a word. The Fischer children are admired by everybody as particularly bright and pretty. Emma is five and a half years old, but she is so tall that she looks much older. She is a brunette, has soft, rich, flowing hair, and a pair of hazel eyes that sparkle like diamonds. The second

child is a boy named Charley. He is nearly three years of age, and is a most witty, talkative child. The baby, Adolph, has now attained the age of one year. Less than five years ago Mrs. Schwab, then Miss Schnaubelt, came to Chicago with her brother Rudolph, who, according to the theory of the State inf, the anarchist trial, was! the bomb-thrower of the Haymarket. Her husband, Michael Schwab, was assistant editor of the Arbeiter Zeitung up to the time of his arrest. They have two children, Ida, ■who will be four years old next Christmas, and little

Rudolph, who Is nearly two years of age. Mrs. Schwab is a large woman of Imposing carriage, and very good-looking.

Ida Schwab

"Papal Papal” at the top of their voices. Schwab comes forth in a dejected manner to meet them, and fondles them with manifest deep fatherly affection. Mrs. Fielden is an Englishwoman, considerably under the medium size, with a pleasant,

blushing face and a shy, diffident manner. Her life from the very start has been in an atmosphere entirely the opposite to that of anarchy. To see her and talk with her is ample proof of this. She is one of the most innocent, harmless, and domestic of women The i calamity whioh has be- 1 fallen her husband has almost crushed her, and / it is believed by Borne of her nearest friends that

■he cannot possibly survive his execution.

Emma Fischer.

Mrs. Schwab.

Ida and little Dolph have been daily visitors at the County Jail, and have always been permitted to run within the jail proper to play with their unfortunate father. Mrs. Schwab is very proud of them and has 'kept them dressed in the | most fascinating fashion. ! They are exoeedinglv Uively children, and so jpretty that they are loved 1 wherever they go. It is their habit on entering the outer door of the jail to make a stampede for the visitors’ cage, yelling

Rudolph Schwab.

Her eldest child, Alice, is five years old, and a very attractive little thing she is. Mrs. Fiel-

Samuel Fielden

comprehend her father’s trouble. He is very fond of.her, as well as bis little boy, who bears his name, and who first saw the light on the day previous to that which Judge Gary pronounced sentence of death upon him. Lucy Parsons differs essenti&llv from her sisters in misfortune. SI e Lad taken ective

part in the labor movement before the Haymarket trouble aa an agitator, both on the platform and in the press. She had marched in labor processions, and had carried the red flag in the face of the police more than once. In short, she was one of the boldest of the 1 anarchists, and was never known to occupy a place in the rear rank on any occasion when the' battle raged hottest.

But •with all her impetuous temper, there is not one of the anarchists’ wives who has shown

Mrs. L. E. Parsons

studies. Albert, who is named for his father, is a lively

boy, with large, bright, hazel eyes. He sees everything, and persists in getting an explanation of everything. The mother, who, since the condemned man’s incarceration, has been thrown upon her own resources, keeps her/ children neat and tidy and well clothed, and seems to be devoted to them. Since* his conviction Mr. Parsons finds it almost too much for his fortitude to receive his children in the presence of visitors, and thev are OnnnvnlKr X,.*

generally brought to him at an early hour when there are but few people around. Oscar Neebe’s three half-orphaned children are tho wards of their aunt, the wife of Louis Neebe, since their mother died of a broken

Lolo Parsons

already possesses womanly graces much beyond her years. She has been attending school for six years, and has made very commendable progress. Nettie, the second child, is eleven years of age. She resembles her father, and possesses

much of his disposition. Young Osoar Neebe attends the Franklin Street School, and is a noisy, good-na-tured boy, who enjoys a decided propensity for all sorts of fun, Engel has a -wife and a considerable family of children, most of whom have grown up, married, and settled by themselves. He has one daughter, a pleas-' ant miss of about seventeen, who takes frequent turns with her mother visiting the jail. 1

Spios is married, but l>y proxy, and of course has no family. Lingg is tho only unmarried of the condemned, but several young ladies are devotedly attached to the handsome young anarch.

BASE-BALL GOSSIP.

Notes of the Game from Base-Ball Centers Throughout the Country. Chicago heats all the clubs on home runs. Philadelphia actually beats Detroit on earned runs, getting 477, Detroit 472, Chicago 445, New York 442. During the year the Detroitg made 935 runs: Philadelphia, BJ7 ; Chicagos, 807 ; New Yorks, 814; Bostons, 794; Pitts burgs, 621; Washingtons, 600; Indianapolis, 619. The Chicagos made 78 home runs during tho year; Detroits, 51; Philadelphias, 43; New Yorks, 48; Bostons, 53; Washingtons, 52; Pittsburgs, 20; Indianapolis, 30. Off Chicago pitchers during the year 1,139 base-hits were made; off Detroit pitchers, 1,159 : off Philadelphia, 1,176; off New York, 1,056. Chicago and New York did not appear to lack good pitching. Indianapolis is the tail-ender, but she made a larger number of double-plays during the year than any other League club, getting 123, Detroit 100, Philadelphia 80, Chicago 103, New York 98, Boston 69, Pittsburgh 87, Washington 91. Chicago fielders made a greater number of assists during the year than any other club, the figures being: Chicagos, 2,159; Detroits, 1,866: Philadelphias, 1.903; New Yorks, 1,9j9; Bostons, 2,017; Pittsburghs, 1,731; Washingtons, 1,925; Indianapolis, 1,906. The Detroit sluggers generally “found the ball,” only 248 of them striking out during the year, against 351 Philadelphians, 305 Chicagoans, 332 New-Yorkers, 366 Bostonians, 382 Pittsburghers, 373 Washingtonians, and 346 Indianapolitans. Four hundred and thirty-three earned runs were made off Detroit pitchers and only 360 off Chicago pitchers. Chicago fielders made a good many errors during the year, leading all the clubs but three in this respect. The figures are: Chicago, 1,033; Detroit, 871; Philadelphia. 924; New York, l,ot-9: Boston, 1,149; Pittsburgh, 841; Washington, 981; Indianapolis, 1,162. Talk about a harmonious team, the St. Louis Browns present a fine example how not to harmonize. There are a half-dozen players in the world-beating aggregation who are not on speaking terms. Still the champs play good ball just the same. Bassett, of the Indianapolis, sets an example to professional players whioh it would be well for them to follow. He saves his salary, except jjhls mere living expenses, and now has a nice sum in the bank to set himself np in business when his ball days are over. It is said that Homung, Burdock and Sutton, of the Boston team, would like to make a change of base in 1888, and that their wishes in that respect are to be granted. These players would cover three points in the New York team very desirably in 1888. Burdock wants to play there badly, and Sutton would cover third base for New York as it has not been since Hankinson was in the team.

A past man is very slow when it come* to paying his debts.

den frequently takes her alone to the jail, and when allowed to go behind the bars she hn variably goes up to her father's cell and ransacks his clotnes for candy. it seems that before his .imprisonment he was in lthe habit when returning f from work of taking her | candy or fruit , and permitting her to hunt for it in his pockets She still remembers it. and of course is too young to

Alice Fidlden.

a more unwavering devotion to her husband since the trial began than Mrs. Parsons. They have two bright, intelligent children, one a girl ten years of age and the other a l yof seven. She resides in a humblo tenement on Milwaukee avenue and is regarded by her neighbors as an industrious, faithful wife and mother. 1 Lulu is a smart, precocious little girl, with 'sparkling black eyes and a smiling face. She is fond of her books ana is making rapid advancement with her

Albert parsons

heart last March. On one of the walls of their cosy, comfortable home hangs her portrait, which they cherish with much childish affection. The eldest of the Neebe children is a girl of thiri teen, named Lillie. She Ois the picture of her dmother, with long, lux'(uriaut golden hair that falls down to her waist. , She has bright blue eyes, a handsome lace, and

Mrs. Neebe.