Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 April 1888 — Page 6

BILL HYE, OK A SCALDED CHILD. I- ■ ■ ~ JAG 1 Come, all kind friends, both old and young, Oh, hark, and you shall hear How death did quickly snatch a child The parents loved most dear; The last and least of this little flock Was caught on a stone bv its little frock, In falling o’er one Sabbath day When the parents dear were not away. jag 2. And to see and hear, but not to save, Their little boy from a watery grave, Which puts them in miud of one of yore Who died by a scald while on the floor. Strange I they both were burned on a Sabbath day. And placed in the ground on Tuesdya; A family living in the joining room Hastened to the depot of grief and gloom, jag 3, Eighteen months Lucius spent with them And cheered them with his smile, But soon they mourned in weeds of woe For their dear scalded child. But Oh! what sorrow fills their heart, ’Tie more than tongue can tell, 0 To think how soon the time did come To take their last farewell. jag 4. And now the little boy has went To that bright world above. The other four please come this way And sing redeeming love. Then Tompkins now a warning take, Prepare to meet your God, That you may meet your happy flock In yonder blest abode. There you may meet around the throne, Parents and children on that shore Where farewell tears are never shed And scaldings arc no more. —New York World.

He Was a Good Provider.

BY MRS. W. E. SMITH.

When Katie Watson became Mrs. Deacon Lee, everyone said what a good match she had made; for the Deacon was an honorable, upright man, pleasant, kind and generous; and in addition to this, was owner of the best farm for miles around, including a large piece of woodland. So, as everyone thought of him as a

model husband, they never dreamed of attributing the care-worn look that grew on Katie’s face to any fault of his. How could they, when she, loyal little woman, always spoke of him with so much pride and respect that the -village gossips could find nothing of which to complain. Even close-mouthed Jones, the grocer, said he “never see so good a provider as the Deacon was.” Perhaps, he might have thought differently, if he had heard a few remarks Mary Ann Hoolihan made, when, after working at Deacon Lee’s a couple of weeks, she announced her intention of leaving. “Shore it’s a good missus ye are, mum, an’ every thing is plisant an’ foine like around; but me repititation as cook is what Pd not like to be losing; there’s many a place where the master has since enough, savin yer prisence, mum! to know it takes wood to build the fire, an’ not say till ye, ‘I guess ye can be pickin’ up something to last ye the day,’ when iver ye Speak of the want of a stick for the day’s bakin’. But don’t worrit yourself Pll be spakin’ of it outside, for it’s many a kind word ye’ve given me, an’ Mary Ann Hoolihan niver’ll forgit that same.” And she was as good as her word. Ko one but Katie's half sister, Jessie, suspected that there was any reason for her leaving. After that Mrs. Lee did her own work, and never complained to the Deacon, who, always finding his meals well cooked, never inquired how they became so; and, as time rolled on, his confidence in her ability to “pick up some pieces ’round the yard” grew so great it seemed to have crowded all knowledge of the use of an axe out of his head; for, beyond drawing up a lot of old rails, when he put in his new wire fences, he left the getting the wood, as well as building the fires, entirely to Katie. People driving by admired the wellkept yard, and said to each other what a neat man Deacon Lee was, to keep every chip and piece of wood picked up —never dreaming how Katie searched for every stray bit that might make kindling, dodging behind shrubs, or into the house when she saw a carriage approaching, for fear the occupants would see how she was employed, and censure the Deacon for his neglect. “Great things from little causes flow, ” and so it was that the Deacon owed his reformation to a call made by Jessie and a friend one cold day in spring. The fire got low and Mrs. Lee, excusing herself for a moment, left the room, leaving her little three-year-old jgirl in Jessie’s care. The child played

about the room for a few moments, then, taking hold of the window-sill with her chubby hands, raised herself up and looked out “Ma's tuttin wood,” she said, as Jessie looked at her, “she’s tuttin wood!” Miss Davis was talking and did not notice; but Jessie did, and the words confirmed a suspicion she had had for some time. She found it hjrd to be entertaining until Mrs. Lee came back, and, after replenishing the fire, renewed her conversation with Miss Davis. Jessie seemed very much occupied with her own thoughts next day as she went about her work. At last a gleam of mischief came into her eyes, and she seemed to have arrived at some settled determination, for, as she hung the last piece of her snowy ironing on the clothes-bars, she brought her small foot down very emphatically and said: “I’ll do it if 1 ever have a chance.” Her chance came that haying-time. Deacon Lee had a nice lot of hay to put in, and, as it was the fashion there for the farmers to change work, he concluded to have a bee. Accordingly, he asked a number of his friends to come, and made arrangements for a big day’s work. But when he returned to the house, after mowing a roadway to the north meadow, he found that Mrs. Lee had been taken suddenly iIL The doctor was hastily summoned, who said it was necessary that the patient be kept perfectly quiet—must not be worried about anything—or it would result in brain fever. He left two or three bottles of medicine, and went away again, leaving the Deacon almost in danger of brain fever himself. What should he do ? In spite of his thoughtlessness, he dearly loved Katie, and was very anxious about her now. In addition to this anxiety, were his thoughts of the bee and the care of his little girl and sick wife. What wonder that his face was very grave as he leaned over his wife, asking if there was anything he could do or get for her. He had her welfare too much at heart to say one word that would worry her, so when she began to speak of her work he kissed her forehead and told her that would be all right. But he was relieved when she mentioned Jessie; he went to the window at once, to watch for some one passing by whom he could send word; but, as no one came, he was obliged to have little Trot go for the nearest neighbor to stay with Katie while he went after Jess.

He found that young lady willing to come and take care of her sister; but a look the Deacon did not quite understand, or like, flashed into her face when the bee was mentioned. “I don’t know, John,” she said, “whether I can cook to suit you. You know I am rather particular about what I have to work with, and my way may not be a way you’d like.” Now the Deacon rather prided himself on keeping a well-furnished storeroom and good kitchen garden, so he smiled very complacently and replied that if she was obliged to prepare a different dinner to what she would do at home, for lack of materials to work with, he would be satisfied with whatever she did prepare. It was not until afterward he understood the mischievous look in her eyes, as she said: “You make me that promise, do you?” He answered, “Certainly,” readily enough, thinking, meanwhile, of the excellent dinners he had helped to eat that Jessie had prepared. The dinner bell at the farm-house rang out cheerily at a quarter of twelve next day, and the Deacon, with a satisfied look at the amount of work accomplished, threw down his rake, and, with his men, started for the barn. There he left them to see to their teams, while he hurried to Katie’s room. She was considerably better, and he was feeling very glad and grateful. As he lingered with her Jessie’s voice suddenly called him to show the men to the dining-room. It was very pleasant and cool in the shadedroom, suspiciously so; but the Deacon never noticed that; he led the way to the table, and when all were seated bowed his head reverently; but the-blessing he was about to ask died away on his lips, as his downward glance fell on the dish in front of him, on which was tastefully spread the pork-steak he had bought the night before, and which, the Deacon was horrified to see, was still raw. Farther down the table was a dish of early potatoes scraped and washed ready to cook, kept in countenance By plates of

unbaked biscuit, dishes of raw, green peas, unbaked pies, etc., etc. The Deacon gave one hasty glance at Jessie, toft beyond a grave, anxious look in her eyes, her face expressed nothing of her feelings, as she said: “I have done as you asked me, John : got as good a dinner as I could for youi friends with the materials there were here. If it does not suit you, please remember I am not used to providing my own wood, as Katie is, and this is the best I could do without” For a moment the Deacon was tempted to forget that he was a Deacon and swear; but before he had time to speali Ralph Brooks, a handsome young farmer, whose opinion the Deacor valued very highly, said: “You are fairly beat, Deacon. You’d better give up.” And as the Deacor glanced sheepishly around at the men and saw that they were all beginning to smile broadly, he said: “I reckon I’ll have to, Ralph, and—and—l do give up.” Then he joined in the laugh that followed. Before the room was quiet again. Mr. Brooks, pushing back his chair, said: “Boys, I propose that we get some wood for Miss Jessie to cook this din ner with. ” And the cheerful way ir which they accepted the proposition made the Deacon ashamed of his momentary anger. When, an hour and a half later, they again seated themselves at the table, he was honest enough to acknowledge to Jessie before them all that the lesson had been needed and he would try to profit by it. He did profit by it; for when, a couple of months later, Mrs. Lee was first able to walk out in the yard, the Deacon, with pardonable pride, took her to see a large, new woodshed, well stocked with hardwood and kindling, telling her as they stood there of the way Jessie got dinner for him, and hou sorry he was that the woodshed had not been built years before. A mile or so from the Deacon’s there is a cozy little house where Jessie cooks dinners for Mr. Brooks, and, to his credit be it said, she has never been obliged to try the same experiment with him that she did with her brother-in-law. From the way Deacon Lee laughs with her and her husband about the way she taught him to keep a supply of wood on hand, it is safe tc say he has forgiven her for the lesson.

Sorrows of the Poor.

Some one has declared that there arc few sadder sights than that of a family Bible in a pawnbroker’s window. Still gnothgr person says that the story told by such A. mute witness is rivaled by that to be read from seeing a set ol carpenter’s tools in the same place. Both are tokens of downfall—the one of religions feeling, and the other of industrial and domestic life. A teacher in a city school attended largely by the poor tells the tollowing story: “I was going home late from school on a cold night, when I met one of my scholars—the brightest girl of all. She was trotting along, clasping something tightly to her breast under her great shawl—the garment, which was her mother’s, making her little figure look strangely grotesque and forlorn. The tears were running, disregarded, down her cheeks. “Why, what can be the matter?” I asked, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Oh, nothing, ma’am,” she said, as soon as she recognized me; but the effort of speaking was too great, and she burst into sobs. “It must be something,” I insisted. “Step inside this doorway and tell me. What is that under your shawl ?” Then her sobs redoubled, and she allowed me to draw forth the concealed package—Longfellow’s poems, which I had given her at Christmas. “I’ve got to pawn it,” she whispered, holding her head low in shame. “Why? Who wants the money?” “Mother; there’s nothing to eat in the house. She meant to finish her sewing to-day, and get the pay for it; but last night father was gone till twelve, and when he came home he wasn’t just right. So, being kept awake all night, mother had a blind headache to-day, and couldn’t do her work. I don’t suppose I ought to feel so about my book—l can get it back again; but it’s hard to think of its lying round in the shop.” “Suppose you make me the pawnbroker?” said I, giving her some money. “And when you have had twelve perfect days at school, you shall have it back again.” How her eyes sparkled! “May I?” she cried. “May I, truly? Oh, how good you are! Oh, I am glad!” She could not thank me in words, and so she impulsively kissed my hand, as she laid the book in it, and darted away with the money. It is needless to say that she was “perfect” for more than the next twelve day; and it is only safe to prophesy that when she grows up, my sturdy little maid will try to carry all the familv burdens on her own shoulders.— Youth’s Companion.

Pretty Cold Weather.

The point where the coldest temperature on earth has ever been observed has been dignified by the name of the pole of cold. It is located to the east of the River Lena, in Siberia. There, at Verchojansk, the Russian Government has established an observatory. The poor weather man out there reported in December, one year, 85 below zero, and January, 1885, as much as 90 and 98 below. What is known in Roman history as the Augustan Era began Feb. 14, 27 B. C., 127 years after the foundation of Rome.

The Old Stone Fort.

The thickest stone walls snd the heaviest old-fashioned doors in the city are those of Castle Garden. Since the premises have been appropriated by the Commissioners of Immigration it has been almost forgotten that Castle Garden occupies the same site and uses the same old walls that were constructed for Fort Clinton in the year 1807. At the main entrance hang the same massive doors that were first put there. They were probably never removed, because it would have been too much trouble to do so, and they were closed because it takes a very strong force to swing each one of them. They are about sixteen feet high by six feet wide, and fully eight inches thick, of solid hard-wood, iron mounted all over, and the three ponderous hinges on which each one is supported fairly groan with the weight when the door is moved. It is estimated that it would take at least twenty men to lift each door. The stone walls here are eight feet thick, but that is not the greatest thickness. About a year ago the lessee of the restaurant privileges in the Garden thought that he discerned a door on one of the interior faces of the wall which had been barricaded up for generations. He cleared away the debris and discovered a very narrow passage several yards long leading into an arched * vault of large dimensions, which was probably the powder magazine of the old fort. The walls are so thick that from the exterior the position of the magazine could not be determined, and there is but the one opening to the apartment. Another door was also discovered at the same time, which admitted the explorer to a duugeon-like cell, into which streamed a solitary ray of light through a loophole in a wall which was fully twenty feet thick. What the original design of this place was has not been ascertained, but the restaurant man utilized it for a refrigj erator, a? it is always very dry and ! cool. Entrances to other passages beneath the prison flooring were also | discovered. They were probably intended for underground exits in case of danger but are now partly filled with water. The visible exterior traces of the old fort are chiefly the numerous port-holes in the wall all around the rotunda. The lower sill of each port-hole is four feet eight inches from the ground, and they are seven feet apart. The wall of the fort is twenty-two feet high and in no place less than eight feet thick. There are, in fact, two walls, an exterior oSe of stone, and an interior one of brick. The rotunda is two hundred feet in diameter.

Cruelty to Insects.

Of all the birds in this section, says a Florida letter, there is one that will afford an idler lots of amusement if he will spend an occasional hour watching closely. It is the shrike or butcher bird. A few days ago I was in an orange grove a few rods from the house, where an old darky, with the assistance of a mule, was plowing, and a butcher bird was flying from tree to tree, following up the newly plowed furrow, looking for insects. Every few minutes he would go to pick up a beetle or insect, and for some time he simply swallowed his victims. After a little he seemed to have had enough to eat, and just then a little flock of larks were seen running along in the newly turned furrow, at times almost touching the old darky’s.heels. Now and then they would come across an insect too large for them to easily manage, and then would begin a little scufiie. Then the butcher bird would swoop down in the center of the little flock, snatch up the insect, and fly off with it before the larks knew what had happened. The butcher bird had eaten all he wanted, and so, with the

beetle in his beak, he flew to the nearest orange tree, and, selecting a long sharp thorn, he impaled the insect on it. I watched this bird put at least ten insects on different thorns. During an hour, besides numerous large insects, the butcher bird captured two snakes, the largest of which was two feet long, and very lively. These snakes although they squirmed and twisted, were taken with difficulty to an orange tree, and, after a good bit of hard tugging, they were left with a thorn through their bodies. When the butcher bird is not looking for food or for victims to stick on thorns, he is generally looking for other birds for the purpose of fighting them, and so he keeps busy from daylight till dark.

How a Woman Would Propose.

I think it would be funny to hear a woman propose to a man. I wonder how she would do it. “I think you're the nicest man I ever saw, and—l never loved anybody before—but well—of course —I could marry plenty. There’s Harry Thompson—and Mr. Jones—l know they would—if I—but I’d rather have you than anybody.” “When shall the wedding-day be?” “Let me see: the 21st—no, I’ve got to go to a wedding on the 15th—I think it will be the 15th—I don’t know. And then there’s Mrs. Wilkerson’s german on the 20th, and the ball on the 22d. Perhaps about the 2! th—if Mary Farallones doesn’t give her garden party. Let us say some time next month, dearest.”— San Francisco Chronicle.

For Value Received.

Tramp (to citizen, who has donated a nickel for a night’s lodging)—lf you could give me one more nickel, sir, I can get a bed all to myself. Citizen—No, I can’t do that, but here is a suggestion. You ask the gentleman you are to sleep with for an additional nickel. He ought to be willing to give it gladly.—Aew York Sun.

HUMOR.

Papers that don’t give credit are published by hook and by crook. Where is no max’s land? Where the gnome man burrows, of course. They have a society journal in Bengal that is much read by the Bengals. They glass tombs now. A glass tomb much sometimes brings a man there. "You caved ten thousand souls," St Peter said, And all the little angels were surprised," “Yes, ” said the parson, as he bowed his head, You see my sermons were all advertised." A man who did not recognize a metaphysician explained that he had never metaphysician before. Texas Siftings. The man who only drinks on some particular occasion, finally gets so that he isn’t at all particular what the occasion may be.— Texas Siftings. New York has a Fruit Exchange, but it should not be forgotten that the first fruit exchange was established in the Garden of Eden.— Texas Siftings. The party which expects to win success by evasion of public questions is as far “off” as the cook wno tries to make buckwheat cakes out of the batter of a base-ball club.— San Francisco Alta. “Constant Reader” is informed that to preserve fruit there is nothing superior to a high fence garnished with broken glass bottles. Some persons, however, still think the bulldog method preferable.— Boston Transcript. “Your husband is something of an antiquarian, isn’t he?” asked a caller of Mrs. Snaggs. “No, I don’t think he is, ” was the reply. “I don’t think he can tell one kind of an ant from another.”—Burlington Free Press. The new Democratic paper in Chicago is called the Globe. This will will dojjfaut it would have sounded better to Fall it the Barth. There isn’t a man in Chicago who wouldn’t take the earth if he got a chance.— Peoria Transcript. “Say, Pat, if you’ll come around every evening and clean out my furnace, I’ll give you $1 a week. ” “Sure an’ Oi -vyjlk s or—but will Oi be doin’ nights whin th’ ould woman takes me away to the thay-ay ter ?”—Burlington Free Press. “I think you are rather unjust to me, father,” said a fast young man; “unnecessarily severe, as it were. I have not the advantages which you enjoyed when you were young.” “ What do you mean by that, sir?” “Your father was poor you know.— Puck. Customer Are these neckties strong? Shopman—Strong? Why, sir, last week I sold one to a gentleman as was a-’ankering after suicide, and ’e liked it so much that ’e used it to ’ang ’isself, and it bore ’is weight beautiful.—London Globe. Gentleman—What are you doing now, Sam? Sam—l ain’t doin’nuffin, sah; I frowed up my job las’ week. I had trubble wif de boss, an’ I jess tole him he cuddent fool dis cullud gemman no mo’. I’se independent, I is. An ole aunt o’ mine died an’ lef me twentyfi’ dollahs.— Epoch. Omaha man—From Dakota, eh? Speaking of Dakota reminds me of a blizzard I Dakota man—Ha, ha! Wasn’t it funny? “Funny? The blizzard was ” “I should say so! Nearly laughed myself into fits over it.” “Laughed, over a blizzard! What blizzard?” “The one in New York of course.”— Omaha Ttorld. Court —Did you search the prisoner’s pockets. Policemen—Yes, your honor. Court —Did you find anything in them? Policeman —Yes, your honor. Court—Was it counterfeit money? Policeman—No, ypur honor. Court— Did you find any jewelry or burglar’s tools? Policeman —No, your honor. Court —What did you find in his pockets ? Policeman —Nothing but holes. Arcola Record.

Agnosticism.

The doctrines of religion relate to problems which in their nature are too abstract and too difficult to be correctly understood by the generality of men. The purest inspirations of the great religious teachers are sure to be degraded and perverted by their followers. Compare, for instance, the Jesus of the Beatitudes with the Jesus of the Inquisition, the religion of the Spirit, as taught by the Hebrew prophets, with the religion of the pot and kettle of many of their uneducated followers. It is better, therefore, for us to confine ourselves to teaching simple morality to the people and to leave the metaphysical problems which are involved in all high religious thought to those who are capable of comprehending them. Whether this view be correct or not, is one thing; whether it implies an offensive assault upon religion I shall leave to the judgment of candid and unbiased minds.— Felix Adler.

His Mistake.

Just after Meyerbeer died, a very poor composer of music—poor in dollars and poor in talent —wrote a dirge which he called “Meyerbeer’s Funeral March.” He took the score to Rossini. “Will you please look this over,” said he, “and tell me if you find any mistake?” Rossini exam ned the musical manuscript very thoroughly. At last he handed it back. “I see only one error,” said the great man of Stabat Mater; “you should have died and permitted Meyerbeer to write your funeral march. ”

Secret voting was practiced by the ancient Greeks and Romans. The word ballot comes from the French ballotte (a little ball). The first record of the use of a ballot-box is that of 1526, when such was employed in the election of Aidermen of London.