Democratic Sentinel, Volume 13, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 July 1889 — Page 6

A SERMON IN RHYME. If yon have a friend worth loving, Love him: yes. and let him know That yon love him, ere life's evening Tinge his brow wi„h snnset glow. Why should good words ne’er be said Of a friend—till he is dead? If you hear a song that thrills you, Sung by any child of song, Praise it; do not let the singer Wait deserved praises long. Why should one who thrills your heart Lack the joys you may impart? Scatter thus your seeds of kindness, All enriching as you go— Leave them; trust the harvest Giver, He will make each seed to grow. So, until its happy end. Your life shall never lack a friend.

PLEADINGS OF A CHILD.

By Harriet Lane Wallace.

“Hetty, be you mad—gone clean out pf your senses? Remember, if you •marry tbat scamp you are nothing to me. I would rather see you in vour coffin!” So saying, Hepsy Trotwood broughtdown her hand with a decided thump upon the kitchen table, thereby scattering a dozen or more rosy-cheeked apples upon the floor. Mrs. Trotwood had quite forgotten that she was a deacon’s wife when she lost her temper in the midst of making apple dumplings for the good man’s supper. “But, auntie, I love him,” was the apology, given while a soft blush rose to the girl’s face. “Love him? Fiddlesticks! Don’t talk to me about love!” And again Mrs. Trotwood’s gray eyes flashed disapproval. Tall, thin, hard-featured, the deacon’s wife was a woman from whom little mercy could be expected; still, within her heart this childless woman built a shrine, the idol of which was Hetty, the child of her dead sister. Her life had one object in view—to see Hetty a great lady. She gave the girl the advantages of an excellent education. Her wardrobe far outshone that of the neighboring farmers’daughters. It was the intention of Mrs. Trotwood to make her niece heiress to her wealth, of which she possessed a goodly amount.

Hetty was the acknowledged belle for miles around. Never was there a gather of young folks without her presence, and many a country swain would Lave sacrificed, considerable for a smile of encouragement. She was the apple of the old deacon’s eye. ‘'Mother,” he would say to his good wife, “I must send little Hetty to brother John’s, in the city, or else she will be falling in love with some great hulking country fellow, not half good enough for her.” “Nonsense!” would his wife reply. “1 he child never dreams of such a thing.” But the child did fall in love, and with none other than the student of the village doctor, handsome, good-hearted, penniless Dick Barry ; and this falling in love was the cause of Mrs. Trotwood’s burst of indignation. “To think of it!” she would sav. “Our Hetty marrying this penniless youth!” The old lady’s fondest hopes, all her air castles, would be completely cast to the earth should this marriage ever take place. The apple dumpling proved a failnve. The deacon and his wife ate their meal in silence. Hetty was not present. She was having a good cry down by the garden gate. Very lovely she looked in the dim twilight, in a dress of soft texture clinging in graceful folds to a round, shapely figure. Was it any wonder that Dick Barry lost liis heart to her ? The young man, who had resolved never to take unto himself a wife until he had attained the dignity of M. D. and made his .name in the world, forgot his firm resolution.

He was coming up the big country road, whistling a merry tune. He met his lady-love with a kiss. “Oh, Dick!” sobbed Hetty. “Aunt Hepsv says I can never, never marry you!” And she cried as if her heart would break. Poor Dick tried to console her as best he could, departing at length, reassured of the girl’s love and confidence. Hetty returned to the house, wrote a dainty little note, left it on the deacon’s desk, and kissed the old couple so fondly that they began to think they were unjust in their accusations; that the dear child would never so far forget them as to marry without their consent. But the little note found the following morning told its own story. Their the country for miles around rang rvitli gossip: “The deacon’s niece had run away and married Dick Barry.” Mrs. Trotwood closed her heart, putting away the books, birds and dainty little treasures belonging to her avayward niece, never again mentioning her name. The Deacon, groAvn suddenly old, missed his darling. There Avas no one noAv to get his slippers or kiss aAvay his cares and troubles. Many a time he Avas tempted to pay a Ausit to the little white cottage doAvn the road, the cottage where Dick Barry took his bride; but the thought of his wife’s wrath kept him aAvay. To the young couple adversity and cares had come. Poverty had entered the door, but love had never floAvn out of the Avindow. Dick Avas obliged to give up for a time his cherished hope of entering his profession; he Avorked in the mill, in the evening deA'oting his leisure hours to study. The young wife bore with patience her cares, although the roses were fast leaving her face. A baby came, almost unwelcome.

Poverty casts a damper over all onr joys. The old village doctor shook his head, almost despairing of the young mother’s life. Her mind wandered: she kept calling for Aunt Hepsy. The young husband, struggling with piide, sent for Mrs. Trotwood, but the old lady was determined, and refused to see her niece. When the white crape emblem of sorrow hung upon the cottage door she was still unmoved, though she watched from behind hexdrawn curtains the village sexton carry away the wee coffin that held Hetty’s baby. Then the country folks declared that old Hepsy Trotwood was cruel and unjust. Days, weeks, months, years rolled by without bringing reconciliation. Hetty was the mother of a second baby. The young woman frequently passed her aunt’s house, and the little one, who was beginning to talk, would ask her who lived in “the pretty house,” referring to the deacon’s. On learning it was “grandma’s,” she would laugh with delight. One day in early June, Hetty, busy with her household cares, forgot to closely watch baby, who wandered down the road in the direction of the deacon’s house. Mrs. Trotwood sat by the open window. It was her sixtieth birthday. “Dear me!” she sighed. “How old I am getting—sixty—and the deacon is five years older; time to begin to think of passing away. If the Lord calls the deacon fix-st, I shall be left alone—alone!” Anti the woman bent her head in sorrow. “If Hetty had only married to suit me—and yet Dick seems to be a clever fellow, after all. How cruel I have been, after all these veai-s! Will Hetty forgive me now? Yet she blighted mv fondest hopes,” she murmured, while the old stern look stole over her face.

Suddenly the patter of little feet was heard, and Mrs. Trotwood saw standing in the open doorway a little child, a lovely, laughing baby, with hair like spun gold and eyes as blue as blue hyacinths—eyes that she had seen the counterpart of many a time, and which left no room for doubting that befoi-e her stood Hetty’s baby. “Is you grandma?” asked the child in a sweet, lisping tone. “Grandma.” The word was like magic to the childless heart. Then Hepsy Trotwood did what she had not done for years—cried as if her heart would break. One cannot close the doorway of his heart against the pleadings of a little child. Hepsy Trotwood had a heart, after all. **** * * . Five years have passed. The deacon’s family and Hetty are reunited. Prosperity has come to the young folksDick’s hopes are realized. On the front door of one of the most substantial dwellings of the town is a glistening door-plate bearing the name, Richard Barry, M. D. r Mrs. Trotwood has made a new will, by which she will leave her entii-e fortnne to Hetty’s baby.

Avalanches.

Only a moderate amount of snow fell in the autumn and early winter of 188788 in the canton of Grubunden; about NeAV Year there was considerably less than the average quantity. On the heights of the mountains this coating of scanty shoav hardened, under the action of the sun, Avind, and intense frost, into a smooth, solid, and icy crust, Therefore, Avhen a lieav-v snowfall began in February, which lasted without intermission for six days and nights, accumulating an average of five or six feet on the crust of earlier snow I haA r e described, this neAv deposit was everyAvliere insecure. It slipped in immense masses from the polished surface of the old snoAV, having no support, no roughness to which it could adhere, and rushed by its own weight into the valleys at points Avliere ordinary and more slowly acting causes are not wont to launch the thunderbolts of winter. For the same reason successive avalanches descended upon the same tracks. As soon as one deposit had glided from its slippery ice foundation and another snoAvfall happened, the phenomenon Avas repeated, the crust of old snow still remaining treacherously firm and smooth upon the steep declivities. A postilion, Avho drove the post all this Avinter over the Fluela Pass (the highest in Grubunden. and the highest Avhich is open for regular winter traffic in Europe), told me that he had counted betAveen fifty and sixty avalanches, which traversed the actual post road, and some of these were repeated half a dozen times. As the same conditions affected all the other passes of Grubunden, Bernina, Albula, Julier, Splugen, and Bernhardin, it will readily be conceived that traffic Avas occasionally suspended for several days together, that the arrivals and departures of the post Avere irregular, and that many lives were sacrificed. Singularly enough, no fatal accidents happened to the Saauss post service. Those Avho suffered were men employed to mend the roads, carters, and peasants engaged in felling Avood. Foav valleys in the canton escaped w ithout the loss of some lives, and the tale is still incomplete ; for. the most remote regions Avere entirely shut off for months together from the outer Avorld by enormous avalanches, Avhicli interrupted all communications. We do not yet know, and unless an official report be published on the subject we shall probably never knoAvliow many human beings fell victims to the fury of the; elements this Avinter .—Cornhill Magazine. A conn trust is about tq be formed. It is strange that those Avho will be as feoted by it don’t move an estoppel,

THE PARIS EXPOSITION.

tHKODOKE STANTON VIEWS THE GREAT WORLD'S FAIR. Some of Its Most Notable Characteristics— America the Only Great Country That Participates Officially in the Fair—The Eiffel Tower.

T very important aspect. Never was any of these great World’s Fairs so far from ready on opening day as was this one. Even now, a long time after the inauguration, much remains to be done before everything will be in its place. A notable chax-acteristic of this exhibition is the conspicuous part in it accorded to the United States. America is the only great country that participates officially in the fair. The monarchical powers of Europe, even liberal England and Italy, which owes its unity to France, turned the cold shoulder to the Third Republic, -when invited to the Champ-de-Mars, where was to be celebrated the centenai-y of tlie great l-evolxition. While the people of these kingdoms are represented by worthy exhibits, tlie governments of these pouting kings have held aloof. But this silly conduct will onlv

A. Palace of Liberal Arts. B. Palace of Fine Arts. C. Lesaix Gallery. D. liapp Gallery. E. Palace of Various Exhibits. F. Palace of Machines. P. Pavilion of the City of Paris. Tl-T2-T3-T4. Piers <jf Eiffel Tower.

strenthen republicanism in France; for the Avorld will soon perceive that the exhibition has been a grand success without the aid of royalty. Hence it is that the hearty co-opera-tion of republican America", both official and private, has been Avarmly appreciated, and this appreciation has been shoAvn in many ways. During the fetes Avliieli attended the opening of the exhibition, the stars and stripes Avere, after the tricolor, the most conspicuous Hag. I noticed this in the streets of Paris and in the Exhibition buildings, and more than one Frenchman called my attention to the same fact.

Another striking feature of the exhibition is, of course, the famous Eiffel ToAver. A great deal has been Avritten about this magnificent creation of engineering skill. But now that the structure is finished; that the painting and gilding has made its huge limbs more comely; that the masonry about its base gives greater solidity and neatness to its huge feet; that the green SAvard, the blooming floAver-beds, the gushing fountains, and the Avinding gravel walks have beautified the surroundings, the tower has Avon the, admiration of the most adverse critics, and M. Eiffel has become the hero of the exhibition. After the Eiffel Tower the most notable structure is the Machinery Hall, or Machinery Palace, its more high - sounding French name. The visitor has no idea of the size of this hall until he stands in the middle and tries to distinguish objects at either end, in front and behind him, or at the top of the finely arched roof. An American, desirous of seeing how the United States is represented at this international competition, naturally turns first to this Machinery Hali. We knoAV that Ave are great mechanics, whatever other merits Ave may have. Nor does the European Avorld dispute our claim to this honor. And, although at this Avriting many of our exhibitors are still hiding their lights under a bushel, there are several American creations to admire in Machinery Hall. Edison’s large and magnificent exhibit is the cynosure of all eyes. It covers more space than any other exhibit, even from France, if I am not mistaken. If we are to measure America’s share in this exhibition by the space occupied, Ave need not be ashamed. England and possibly Belgium are, I should say, the only two countries, Avith the exception of France, of course, which cover more ground on the Champ de Mars than the United States. Outside the machinery hall, America has sent many things which appear more striking on this side of the ocean than on your side. For instance, the carriage exhibits of two Noav York and Chicago firms cause much wonderment. The light hickory wheels a -

HEOD O R E Stanton, the well-known newspaper correspondent, writing from Paris to the Chicago Inter Ocean, says of the World’s F air, now in progress at the French capital: The International Exhibition of 1889 differs from all of its predecessors i n France,England, Austria, and America in one

THE EXPOSITION GROUNDS.

tonish Europeans accustomed to heavy tires and spokes and hubs, which we would scarcely put under lumber wagons. But it is the buggies that cause foreigners to open their eyes the widest. These admirable vehicles are unknown in Europe. Typewriters are sold in France. But they are lxraglit only by Americans and Englishmen. I have never vet received from a Fi-encbman a typewritten letter. So the typewriting stand is one of the wonders of the American section. American tools, American lamps, American rocking-chairs—all are superior to the same articles manufactured in the old world, and consequently awaken more interest than the displays of the New York and Chicago jewelers, who, however, do great credit to the artistic side of Ameincan industrial talent.

THE LATE GENERAL GRANT.

Instances of His Wonderful Memory.

my lioitse and we walked across the lawn to the General’s. He sat on the piazza and could not stand alone, but was on his crutches, and was presented to every one of them, shaking hands with each one. He woxxld say to one gentleman, ‘How are you, Professor? I met you in Liverpool;’ and to another, ‘Wliv, how are yoxi? I met you in London;’ and ‘I am glad to see you; 1 met you‘in Manchester.’ So lie recognized each of these visitoi-s as soon as he laid eyes on them, and they said tc

me aftei-Avard, ‘Why, I only met him casually once with a party of people.’ “This poAver of recognition was remarkable. I asked him afterAvard Avhether he had lost the poAver. He ansAvered: ‘No, I have not lost the poAver. If I fix my mind on a person I never forget him; but I see so many I don’t ahvays do it.’ I can illustrate an instance of his memory of persons. During one of the times he Avas staying with me in Philadelphia we were walking doAvn Chestnut street together, and in front of a large jeweler’s establishment a lady came out of the store and Avas entering her carriage. General Grant walked up to her, shook hands Avith her, and put her into the carriage. ‘General, did you knoAV that lady?’ 'Oh, yes,’ he replied, ‘I know her.’ ‘Where did you see her ?’ ‘Well, I saw her a good many years ago out in Ohio at a boarding school. She was one of the girls there.’ ‘Did you never see her before or since?’ He said ‘No.’ The lady asis the daughter of a very prominent Ohio man, Judge Jewett, and the next time she saAv me she said: ‘I suppose you told General Grant who I Avas.’ I said I did not. ‘Why, that is very remarkable,’ she answered, in a surprised tone; ‘I Avas only one of two or three hundred girls and I only saAv him at school. I have never seen him 3ince.’ ”

A Lawyer’s Advice.

In days gone by, few Southern lawyers were more distinguished than Luther Martin. He Avas one day riding to Aivnapolis in a stage coach, when his only companion—a young man who had just been admitted to the bar—addressing him, said: “Mr. Martin, you have been wonderfully successful in your profession. Are you Avilling to acquaint me Avith the secret of your success?” “If you will pay my expenses the feAv days that I shall remain in Annapolis.” “I will,” Avas the earnest response. “It is in this adA'ice: Deny everything and insist upon proof. ” At Annapolis, Mr. Martin enjoyed all the luxuries that a fine hotel could furnisli, regardless of expense, and, AA'hen the time for his departure arrived, passed the “bill”—of enormous the young lawyer avlio was standing near. The latter merely glanced at, and then returned it to Mr. Martin. “Aren’t you going to pay it?” Mr. Martin asked. ’ “Pav what ?” “This bill. Didn’t you promise to defray my expenses Avhile I was in Annapolis ?” “My dear sir,” Avas the quiet answer, “I deny everything and insist upon proof.” The eminent lawyer paid his bill, and laughingly said to the young man: “You need no furthor counsel from me.”

E2BN his recently JUT published recolIgij lections of GenuJgLeral Grant, Mr. W. Childs \ relates the folg, flowing incidents gSr illustrative of the General’s extraordinary memory for faces and names: “They came tc

PLEASANT PARAGRAPHS.

Knit goods —Fine-tooth combs. A current remark—l must make some jelly this fall. It is queer, but a lively bolt often results in a dead-lock. In* dependence day all tbe year round at tbe poor-house. Taken for Standing Bear—a boy arrested for bathing in the river. Boarding-house people ought not to expe.et dressed beef in hot weather. AT is very natural for an officer to be a little peppery when he musters his men. John Wheel, of Dawson, Ga., eats great quantities of flies. That is a fly-wheel. A modest blush suffused her gentle face, For she had just been asked to wed, And she replied with sweet St. Louis grace, “Why, cert,” she said. Cobwiggeb —My doctor’s bill wa3 something enormous. Brown—So you didn’t have your pains for nothing. Little Sister —l know what ‘Teamin’ by rote’ means.” Little Brother— So do I. It means learnin’ a thing the way the feller wrote it. Jollyman —Y ou ain’t interested in the bucket shop question, are you ? Broker —No; Why do you ask? “Well, I see you are a little pail this morning.” “You must find life in such a place as Chicago very diversified,” said an Eastern woman to one living in the Western city. “Rather say divorceified,” i*esponded the Chicagoan. First Omalian—The doctor says my Jersey cow has the ague. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Second Omahan —No; but tbe idea is a good one. You can Lave a milk shake whenever you wish it.

Fresh barber (shaving a customer) YVho is tbat old hen going along the other side of the street, with a bustle like a boxing glove? Customer (insing deliberately and looking)—That? Oh, she’s my wife. Doctor —But—dear me! You have had three glasses of beer daily. I only allowed you one! Patient right, Doctor. You’re the third medical man I’ve consulted, and they each allow me one glass, so that makes it right, you see. Three weeks after an old Cincinnati bachelor had got manned, he met a friend and said to him, “Why is my wife like a baker who is making 1 a small gooseberry pie ?” “I don’t know,” said the friend “It is because she is glowing a little tart,” answered tlie disgraceful creature. THE FLIES’ DRILL GROUND. The man who to the barber goes And gets a shaven crown Emerges from the chair with glee, The happiest man in town. But ere a day has passed away, With tearful oaths and cries He 11 curse the hour he made his head A drill-ground for the flies.

AFTER TASCOTT.

In the far West: First detective—- “ Did you watch the house all night? What did you find out?” Second detective—“ Yes, I did, and it had twins!” CITY MAIDEN VISITING IN THE COUNTRY.

I wonder if there is anything in that.

Oh, heavens!