Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 December 1888 — Page 1

The Democratic Sentinel.

VOLUME XII

THE DEMOCRATS DfiMCC P.ATI C X E WSPAP ER. PUBLISHED EVERY FiJDaY, 6V ■< las. Vr. McEwen SATES OF SHBSCItIPTIOra. . ...........51.50 v 60 Overusing •nr SBO 0° vluDti var > 40 O' eohiinu, B 30 o o rttr u • io o’ 1 oeot. added to foregoing price if J arc set to occupy more than • -r® 10 column wi<U - t eqnitahle rates a.Ucrtlsemonts .«.»• statute price. blicnt i on 10 cents jBSSSSsS”-^" 6 cc “ ts ° anarterfy (once i’ 1 tor . o ° o f extra charge. Ton of the a^ o JPf nr nersons not residents b advance when larger. . _ IWWWHf w

M ‘ e° Y l. Hollingsworth. A- MHSOY & banke® 5 > (SB.ce.sors to A. McCoy & T. Thompson,) Rensselaer. Ind. "*' ■ o’»“ ■*““ “““ TpA'ilS”' -» Thompson 1 & tfORDLCAI F. CHILCOTE. Attorney-at-Law - Indiana rtaNBBKLAEB. Sve.t. ovpo ßite Court Houße ' ’ DAVID .T. THOMPSON Attorney-at-Law. NotaryPubUc. THOMPSON & BROTHER, UattsBSLAEB, - • Indiana Practice in all the ARION L. SPITLER, Collector ;xnd Abstractci • W« pay r xrticular attention to paying tax- . * e ninfa and leasing lands. v2n * B . H. H. GRAHAM, *’ * attokn ey-at-law, Reesdelatb, Indiana. Money to loan on long time g ®* t ereßt - JAMES W. DOUTHIT, XFTOBNEYsat-law and notary public, «r- Qfflce in rear room over Hemphill & store, Rensselaer, Ind. Bpwin P. Hammond. William B. Austin. HAMMOND & ftUSTIH, A TT OK NE Y - AT'L AW, Rensselae I ’, Ind Office on second floor of Leopold’s Block, coiner ■ ofW;is hi " ton and Vanßensselaer streets. William B. Avstin purchases, sells and le ses Jlcstmi’pays tare, and deals tnstrnmen’s. may~i, o<yybi. \y. "’O r* - L A.W - 1®” Office i<> E'.iiire, in Tziopold’s Bazav, r ''' '' S -' EK IT-!"""---' yy W- HAH ? SELL, M-D HOMCEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN & SURGEON. RENSSELAER, - " INDIANA. • Diseases i Specialty. OFFICE, in Makeever’s New Block. Residence at Makeover House. July 11. 1884. J H. LOUGHRIDGE. VICTOR E. LOUGHRIDGE H. LOUGHRIDGE & SON, Physicians and Surgeons. Office in the new Leopold B ock, seco'd floor, second door right-hand side of hall: Ten per cent, interest will be added to all Accounts running unsettled longer than three months. vlni DR. I. B. WASHBURN Physician & Surgeon □alls promptly attended. Will give special atten tion to the treatment of Chronic Diseases. ty| ARY E. JACKSON, M. D., PHYSICIAN A SURGEON. Special attention given to diseases of women And children. Office on Front street, corner of Angelica. 12.. 24. W 1 . 1 "BT 'J Zimri Dwiggims, F. J. Seabs, Val. Seib, President. Vic—President. Cashier CITIZENS’STATEBANK BENSSELaER, ind., BS A GENERAL BANKING BUSINESS: srtifleates bearing l-.terest issued; Exb bought and sold; Money loaned on farms est rates and on moa J svorable terms. *«• —;

RENSSELAER JASPER COUNTY. INDIANA. FRIDAY DECEMBER 2J. 1888

FLORIDA FACTS.

Which Strangers Are Not Prepare* by Reading Florida Literature. [Palatka Cor. New York Sun.] At almost any bookstore in this state yon can buy a score of books, pamplets, and periodicals devoted exclusively to Florida topics. Some of them contain a good deal of information. Yet, having read all of them, the northerner in Florida is continually coming upon facts that are new and surprising to him. Yon may be surprised: To observe that a region which was discovered nearly 400 years ago, and is said to be so inviting to man, has found so few to accept the invitation. To find [notwithstanging all you have read concerning Florida winters] the January sun so warm at midday. To find |in view of all you have read] so few wild or cultivated blossoms thriving in the sun’s rays, and so little fragrance in them. To find so few birds, barring hawks and other birds of prey, warmed into a voiceful mood by the semi-tropical sun —to find so few birds of any description. That the duration of twilight is so brief. To find how little covering you require on your bed upon retiring, and to find how much covering you wish you had when you wake up toward morning. To §ee, upon going out doors, that the ground is not covered with frost, and that the flowers [such as they are] are not killed.

To note how little soil there is, and how many empty tin cans there are above the sand. To see orange trees, with rich green leaves and loaded with yellow fruit, growing out of the gray sand. To cross gardens in which plants and vegetables are growing in great quantity and luxuriantly in this same sand. To obeserve that so few persons have these flourishing gardens, and to be told that not many can afford to buy the quantity of fertilizer this luxury calls for. To find the sidewalks shaded by orange trees weighed down, by tempting golden frust. To discover that this golden fruit is wild oranges, and very sour. To be told that strangers should be careful about drinking much of the water at first. To learn how little self-denial the observance of this caution calls for. To see how yellow most of the native and acclimated residents are. To discover, before long, that you are turning yellow yourself. To note how few persons there are who are past 70 years of age. To see so many idle negro men, to observe that nearly all of them wear heavy woolen caps, and to learn that their heads are still cold. To be told by so many of them that they were “bo’n in de norf.” That the negro laborers on the docks can’t work without making such a bedlam.

That they can do any other work while making it. To discover that your water-tight top boots leak sand, and to be told that everybody’s boots and shoes contain more or less sand. To be forced to the conclusion that wherever there is sand there are red ants also. To hear the voice of the nocturnal musquito in midwinter. To wait in vain for him to settle down and bite, so that you can get a whack at him, and to be told in the morning that musquitoes haven’t enough energy in winter to do much biting. To find yourself wondering whe her they, too, are yellow and bilious. To be assured by a plain afid candid appearing white man that the musquitoes were so thick here last summer that, they not only darkened the air at high noon, but put out the lamps which were lighted in the stores. To find that there are b'gger and less harmless liars than he in nearly every neighborhood. To have to fight so many flies in the houses in the winter. To be told that flies do not come into the houses in the summer. To reflect that you permitted yourself to be surprised at the information, when it would have been so much more reasonable to assume that your informant lied.

To come face to face in the sandy wilderness with a pack of gaunt, bony, shaggy beasts of almost every color and resCjnuling nothing you have ever seen before. To be informed afterward that they were Mr. Julius Lemon’s shoats. To be assured that Mr. Lemon and bis family contemplate eating then ultimately. ax choort as full ash a bog cf floor,’’ remarked an inebriate to a sober friend. “There is a difference betweea yon and a sack of flour, however.* ■Whas ish difference?” “When a sack to full ft can stand up, but when you •re full you can’t even lie down on the pound without holding on.”— T«mm WNuHI Sabecribe for The Denu Hentiftel

Old Antics of Birds.

▲ relative of mine had a large manh spon his estate, and here the great cranes made their summer home, build* faig their curious nests there and res* ing their young, <*ays Prof. Holder i» the San Francesco ('all. The marsh was surrounded by high gra s, and it was his practice to creep throne h and watch the birds unobserved. The antics they went through it would be in«possible to describe —now they would caper along in pairs, stepping daintily with the mincing gait of the ide 1 exquisite. lifting their feathers or wings, taking short steps, and gradually working themselves up to a bird frenzy of excitement, when they would le&p*into the air and over each other’s backs, taking short runs this way and that, all for the edification' of the females standing by, and finally, after a series o< these exhibitions, the different birds ■elected their mates. Among the birds of the western hemisphere the cock of the rock ranks next to the crano in the strangeness of its evolutions The bird is confined to South Amer ca, and is about the size of a small pigeon, has a bright orange web in the male, with a plume-like arrange ment upon the head. It is a proud bird, principally building its nest in rocky places not visited by man. At the commencement of the breeding wesson, a party of birds, numbering from ten to twenty, assemble, and so lecting a clear space among the r cks, form a ring or c tele, facing n ward. Now a small bird takes its place in th® •enter, and beg ns to hop about, toss its head, lift its wings, and go through all the strange Movements possible, that appear to be watched with great interest by all the rest. When the performer is thoroughly exhausted he retires to the circle and another bird enters the ring, and so on, until all have been put through their when the pairs probably make their selection. Often the birds are so exhausted after the dances that they can hardly fly, lying panting on the rocluk Near the borders of Southern California is found a bird, isllod the inmate, that has a strange courtship. Il is about the size of a magpie. During the mating season <our or five bird* collect together and seem to vie with each other in the extravagance of the v posturing—wooing now in lows, nov •inglis in a regular dance, sad, by way Cf music, uttering loud, discordant squawks. Their long tails are lifted high in the air during this perform •nee, and their entire belutviov is »• wakable in the Pxtrema

Negro Aphorisms.

De candy-pullin’ kin dan de log-rollin’. * De bes’ apples float on de top o’ de peck medjer. De steel-trap know when to talk. Hailstones don’t pick hard heads to drap on. De young rooster dat crow too loud is ’lectioneerin’ for a lickin’. Tall tree make de squ’el sassy. De redbird lub to drink whar he kin tee hisse’f in de water. De top o’ de hill is harder to find dan de bottom. De wood-pile ’fraid o’ de norf wind. De s’ingle xree got to stan’ heap 0’ kickin’. Dus’ don’ settie on de meal-box. A shotgun kin out vote a good-size’ comp’ny o’ watormilion hunters. A man dat ent his finger don’t brag on his knife while de blood runnin’. De rabbit kin make de bes’ time when he trubblin’ for his health. DAr’3 a bad streak in folks dat think de whole will’ is a pentench’ry. One dead L -martin is wuf a hundred live ones. De shirt-buttons he’p de looks o’ things, but de gallus-buttons do de solid wuk. —-x De right sort e’ ’ligion heaps de halfbushel. De steel hoe dat laughs at de iron one is like de man dat is ’shamed 0’ his grand daddy. ’Tain’t wuf findin’ out who gits de bes’ of a goat swap. When de bait is wuf mo’ an’ de ’tis time to stop fishin’. Old Satan couldn’t git long plenty 0’ he’p. De buggy-whip can’t make up for light feed in de horse-trough. - A mule kin tote so much goodness in his face dat he don’t hab none lef ’ fbr his hind legs. De price o’ tame coons don’t pester many folks. Some grabble walks may lead to dke M* De bes’ bravery is de sort dat ain’t sksered o’ de hot sun. De lead steer know when de whip* cracker mended. De billy-goat gits in his hardes’ licks ▼hen he look like he gwine to back out de fight Better not pull down de empty jaiL Little hole in your pocket is wusser'n ft big one at de knee. /_ Gap in de ax show itse’f in de chip. De dog on three legs ain’t always lame. *Tis mighty cosy term de treek cbe needed BfiWWh

THE OLD SETTLER’S YARN.

“I see by the county paper, ’S , uire,” remarked the Old Settler, “th’t down in the West Virginny woods—or up in ’em, or over in ’em, whichever way them woods may b.*. sittiwated—thuz plenty o’ baint’ers yit a p’radin’ ’roun’ and seekin’ who they may devour somel ody. W’t o’ ye think ’bout it, ’Squire?” “I hain’t thunk uuthin’ ’bout it,” repl ed the’Squire. “An’l don’t keer nuthin’ bout it, nuther, w’at’s more. Paint’ers th’ts way down in the West Virginny woods hain’t no good to me. Now, it they was a prancin’ 'roun' in the woods som’ers nigh here, th’ mowt be some uset o’ speakin’ ’bout ’em. Did you ever see a paint’er, Major?” This unexpected query of tho ’Squire’s made the Old Settler gasp. After the many exploits in chasing and overcoming panthers that he had in his time given the details of to the ’Squire, this query conveyed to him the idea that all those tales had been received by the ’Squire with a degree of incredulity that was not flattering to the relator. But the Old Settler replied to it more in sorrow than in anger.

“’Squire,” said he, “be I to ’spect that yer recomemb’r’nce is playin’ ye tricks, or be I to ketch it from yer remark th’t yer faith in the hist’ry o’ the Sugar Swamp deestric’, ez I hev ben givin’ ye p’tic’lar p’ints on fer twenty year an’|better, hain’t no bigger’ ■ a mustard seed?” “Wall, Major,” replied the ’Squire “that’s a leadin’ question, an’ I ’bjeot to answerin’. I moui criminate myself, ye know, ’ez w« say intryin’ cases. JBut I’ll say this much, Major, an’ hope it’ll cor tent ye, an’ that is th’t my re-cpmc-mb’r’nce hain’t playin’ me no trteks, not by a two gallon jug full!” ‘Yer ’oology is all right, ’Squire,’ said the Old Settler blandly. ‘I only wanted to know how ye stood, that’s all. New, ez I know, I’ll oerceed an’ answer Jyer question. Did I ever see a pain ter ? Mountainsan’ mountains of ’em, ’Squire! An’ it’da’ been a rippin’ good thing for them, I kin tell ye, if they hadn’t never a see me, fer I plunked ’em, an’ I plunked ’em, an’ 1 rasseled. ’em, an’ I hustled ’em, till it got to be so th’t it were a techin’ sight to see ’em git |fer safter pasturs w’en they heerd o’ me being in the woods. But a paint’er had to hev his ’larm clock sot so he k’d git up very ’arly in the mornin’ if he lost me w’en I struck his trail. Me an’ paint’ers was ol’ ’quaintances in the good ol’ days o’ Sugar Swamp, ’Squire, an’ it were ’cause the pa’int’ers couldn't cut my ’quaintance th’t th’ hain’t no more on ’em left in this bailiwick or any other bailiwick o’ this deginirit county. Did you ever know Coldy Hardpate, the queer ciiap th’t were alius a shiverin’, an’ the warmer it <ere the harder he shivered?’

‘Yes, I know’d him,’ replied the ’Squire, ‘or leastwaysjl know’d of him, an’ I never know’d or heerd any good of him, nuther. Hie word wa’n’ much better’n some other folks’s th’t I usety know, an know yit. He were alius a ketekii*’ paint’ers, too —to hear him tell it.’ ‘Wull, I know of his ketchin’ ’leven, an’ all of \ m to wunst, too,’ said the Old Settler. ‘W’at he mowt ha’ did ’cordin’ to hisself I can’t sw’ar to, but ’qout them twelve paint’ers I know’d individ’ally an’ peison’ly an’ I know a thing individ’ally an* person’ly, b gosh, I know it tol’ablr durn sure, an’ I hain’t afeerd nor back’ards in walkin’ up to the dough trough and affidavvin to tt!’ ‘I heerd, wunst, sumpin’ ’bout them twelve paint’ers,’ said the ’Squire, an’ ’ *xe never heerd it right, then, b’gosh/ exclaimed the Old Settler, ‘fer I hain't never even told M riar 'bout it, an* the natfral his'try o* them paint'ere hain't know'd by no one else but me. Oeldy Hardpate took to tbiverin* bo arter he aml

ketched an' cooped them paint'ers th't he shock the life oufen hisself in hss'n no time, an' didn’t her a chance to tell nobody ‘bout it, an' I were the unly one ez had tho secret locked in his chist. I‘va kep' it thar ever sence, but now I‘m again ter let it out, ‘cause Coldy*s mem‘ry‘s kinder ben sot on, an' I'm agointer show, b'gosh, th‘t it can't be sot on ez long ez I ken haul up hist'ry f‘m Sugar Swamp deeetric‘.‘

‘I can't tell ye w'at the natur' o' Coldy's system were t'at made its predomineerin featur' a sort o* perpetval ager, but he had it, an' it kirn in good play, teo, w'en he wer rasselin' a b'ar or a raint‘er, fer Coldy were ez strong ez a mulley o , an' w'en he clutche his b'ar or his paint'er, an - that ager o' his get to workin', it jist shook the everlastin' helix oujen 'em so quick ththey hadn't, time to wonder wwk were movin' of 'em. Then ag'deit were a queer thing th't his shive never bothered Coldy in drawin' bead with hi*rifle, an' he k'd plume the buW feyo, or the b'ar's eye, ev'ry time. An' 'author qqper thing were th't ater seemed to ‘feet his shiver' fer whenever Coldy d drink a tumbler o' water his hand'd shake so th't dura nigh all the waterd spill out. But contraryways a ‘ queerest of all were th’ Coldy k'd fill a tumbler with apple juice chuck to the top an' git it to his mouth without ever losin* a drop.

‘Th‘ usety be a cur'oue patch o* tines th‘t growed on one edge o‘ the swamp in them da; s, but it didn’t grow long arter its oncommon pisen dispysition were foun out. It seemed to be a kinder of a relation o* the cow-eetch weed, dust offen it th‘t usety Took liW fog w‘en it took to flyin* roun* Ev‘ry summer some o‘ the residenters o‘ the Sugar Swamp deestric* ‘d find a hog or two o* theirs, or a cow, or mebbe a boss or a dog, stragglin* roun* the kentrv blinder th*n a hull family o* bats rolled inter one. Nobody could get it through 'em wbat sot this blindness a goin* till one day ii plunked into my ol* pap's noddle th { t it were the dust offen that patch o* briere, but aven then nobody were sartin* an* nuthin were did. One day in July, 1833—the 9th day o* July, ‘33, I think—l wer edgin' roun* iu the woods lookin* fer a lee + le shindig with ajb‘ar or or Bumpin' w*en 1 heerd the concoksarndest catterwaulin* an* yellin' over to‘rds the swamp th‘t ever were heerd in them woods afore or sence. I sneaked over that way an* peekin’ through- the bushes, see a sight ez me almost fault. Thar, right amongst them vinos, was a ejection o‘paiat‘ers o* all sizes, wrigg’in* an* runnin* ng*u: <- (her, on actin* ez if j hey (iidn t hev no idee o* nuthin* bu 4 t tumble aroun* in thar an’yell. In a minute or two the hull cUiv/.tt'on vzr?ro us plain to me ez a pine knot torch on a cloudy night.

‘Gosht’lmighty!* I says to myself, ‘th. m paint‘ers has settled the hull business. Thee’ve got inter that patch in their travels, an‘ that dust has blinded 'em, sure ez crickets‘ll squeak! Pm gummed, ‘Squire, if I wa'n't so eoary fer them ‘leven paint‘ers —tn was ‘leven on ‘en—l were so sorry fer ‘em, ‘Squire, th‘t I act‘lv had to blubber like a calf an took to wonderin* w‘at I k‘d do to help ‘em out o‘ their ‘tarnal bad fix. Ez 1 stood fhar watehin* ‘em in sorrer, w‘at did I see but a snortin* big paint‘er come a tearin* inter that patch from the bushes on t'other side. He stood thar a second or two, an* then nosed roun* ‘mongst them paint‘ers, an‘ doin* it in a hurry, too, 1 tell ye. Ik d see to wunst th’t the big paint’er know’d ’dzae'ly w‘at were up with t‘other uns, but, ‘Squire, I’ wa n‘t lookin' fer w*at follered. I wa*n*t, b'gosh, fer it were a ‘leetle the funniest p'rformance I ever see, even in the Sugar Swamp deestrie Wfile I were gazin' at the onfortnit passel 6* painters, I see one of

(Concluded on 4th page.)

NUMBER, 4 ’