Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 October 1891 — Page 4

EARVEST-DATS. The shining, golden Harvest Days! Fair gospellers whose feet are shod With peace and plenty, and whose hands Are filled with gra-ioue gift* of God I O Hays as bright with miracle As dawned on sacred Palestine, Theclod and stone are changed to bread. And living waters turn to winel O Days that tel! ns year by year God’s Hand is o'er us still, nor we Need strain our faith to reach the Lov That walked in distant Gali eel © Days of resurrection joy, , When furrowed graves are opened wide, And dull unsightly germs appear In living bodies glorified. Lush grapes like swinging censers hang From richly laden boughs, and IJU The fi Ids with incense as the sun • Illumines fruitful vale and hill. The orchard colors glow and greet With sweets the sweetness of the hay, And Harvest-Moon forbids the night To be less tieantifui than day! © holy, happy H&rvest-Davs, Sweet chronrlers of smile and tear, ©flight and shadow, pain and toil, Earth’s heart hears through the circling year Like ye some rich and ripened sheaves, Some fruit of de.'d I fain would show, Perfected by hies smiles and tears, And beautiful in joy and woe! —iZitella Cocke, iu Youth’s Companion.

RENIE'S ROMANCE.

Rente Normaud opened iny studio doer the other afternoon and received the hearty welcome he had a right to expect. We clasped hands, and after exchanging exclamations of greeting and surprise, peered earnestly into each other s eyes. For it was ten years or more since we had last met: and we had changed in thoso ten years; so wc looked curiously into each other's faces. Ten years and more was stamped upon us since last we met, but still we stood well on our feet and our hands clasped firmly. Hut how handsome Renie had grown! He always was handsome, but this, his mature manly beauty, was wonderful. His dark once-laughing eyes now had a subdued sadness in their expression, his mouth was firmfcr, and his curls, that hud once been so blue-black, were strongly mixed with gray. “You can rest.” I said to Pauline, the model, who was staring at us, wondering at our silence after the first greetings. I had many questions to ask Renie, and many to answer about those past years, and I put down my palette and we began oar cross-questioning. How odd it is to greet a friend you have not seen for years! a friend you have caiod for, been intimate with, and who suddenly dropped out of vour life long ago. You stand face to face with him again, hold his hand and hear the old fniniliarvoicc; and there is the same freedom and familiarity in manner now as before, and yet between you is an invisible space of years, a tremendous void that can never be filled.

We talked— hardly that, we asked question for question, scarcely waiting for the answer, for still we understood each other with half a word. We had known something of each other’s lives—not much—from paragraphs in newspapers, had exchanged New Year’s curds—uot much more: and that was very little considering how intimate we had once been in the Latin Quarter and afterwards in the long summer time at Fontainebleau. And as we tulked Pauline lay curled up iu the corner amongst the cushions listening; uo one minds a model listening.

“So you have been a professor all these years at Bordeaux; but you eumo to Paris sometimes?” “Yes, once or twice a year.” “And you never came'to see me!” “What was the use of ringing your I bell in summer?” “That's true.” “Or in winter; twice I tried to find j you when I came up at New Year’s and j you had followed the sun south.” “I am afraid I am rather unsettled.” “1 remember when you were settled you were always talking of going somewhere. But lam coming to Paris next year. I expect to have a professorship here soon, and then I shall dispute you oftener. But tell me who will be there of the old set?” “The old set —not many,” I replied, shaking my head.” “Where are the Grands,” Ronie continued, “who used to live on the Avenue de la Grand Armee?” “Oh they? They —went back to England years ago.” “I am sorry ; I shall miss them. What strange, delightful evenings—nights I should say—we used to have there, and what a strange crowd it was! Do you know I always enjoyed those long walks home in the gray morning light, long, long past midnight, when no sound was heard on the streets but the distant market wagons, the Alsatian peasant sweeping, and the early twittering bird—” “And do you remember,” I interrupted, “the supper that night at Mndthne Savage’s, the night of the snow-storm, when the coachmen, not oar’s, send in word thpy could not wait longer, and Madame invited them to supper?” , “And what hus become of Madame— Madame —” Renie hesitated trying to remember her name, “who was Miss Kendie?” “She’s dead.” “Dead?” All the light suddenly went out of Benie’s eyes that stared wildly at me. “Dead,” he repeated, aud then trying to pull himself together, usked, “What did she die of?” “Ennui,” I answered. “It’s awfully hot here,” exclaimed Pauline, who, with a woman’s tact and wisdom, had thrown the window wide open. “Are you sure she is dead?” Renie asked. Sure! How could I dcclure .1 was sure to a man who looked at me as Renie did at that moment? No,” I answered, “I am not sure. 1 thought I heard of her death several years ago, but I may be wrontr. I’ll write and find out.” “Thank you, if you will. I hoped to see her again some day. She was a delightful woman!” “A delightful woman!” I repeated. How was it I had, for a moment, forgotten be had been fond of her? W e had talked of Barbison, and the way he said “Berbison,” with a tender note in his voice, should have made me remember, but I did not. For it was at Barbison they first met. Her family had heard the praises of Barbison on the edge of Fontainebleuu forest from the painters, aud came down far a few days. They arrived after dark, were shewn to their lodgings through a farmyard and were horrified with the entrance to their quarters. But what could be done? It was late, Paris was many miles away, they must sleep somewhere, and so they stayed that night; and

next morning, when they awoke, the family were surprised to find they had slept well, that the bods were comfortable, and, although the chambers were not luxurious, they were very clean. The sun was shining; they would stay one day, as they had some so far. and all that day they wandered in the forest and —it’s the old story—they stayed all summer. There Rene met Miss Helen and all that long summer they \»layed croquet, explored the forest and sang songs together, songs longsince out of fashion. Rene was not u painter, although a friend |of many painters, but a student of phil- : osophy. He had a pile of books with him, and read at times, but it was his vacation, and bis studies never interfered with Miss Helen's plans or prevented him from being always in attendance at any picnic, tea or forest ramble. One evening wc went into the fore.-,,, „ merry pack of us starting early together an'd returning lute iu pairs; and when we returned one couple was missing. Miss Kendle ami Reno. Mrs. KendTe was very anxious, fearing her daughter had been lost and would be devoured by the wild beasts. We tried to console her, telling her that probably Renie would see her safely home, and that the wild boasts of Fontainebleau i were mostly rabbits and deer. But Mrs. | Kendle refused to be comforted and so |i I relief expedition was organized. There j were plenty of volunteers, and as the night was lovely many volunteered in couples. Hunting horns and a drum were carried to wake the forest echoes, and torches to see the “babes in the woods” when found. The party did not go far; they hud not started off" with serious in- i tent —only to pacify the mother, and contented themselves by exploring the "brigands’ cave,” where some were almost smothered by the smoke of the j torches, and came back singing in chorus, almost forgetting why the torch- | light procession had been organized. As ! the returning explorers neared the village, the lights of their torches fell upon a couple sitting on the bench just inside the forest gate. "Hullo!” exclaimed Leon, suddenly | changing the note of the solo he was i singing. “Hallo, yourself!” answered Rente, ‘•you nre making a great deal of noise.” i “But how did you get here?” asked \ Lean. • Easy enough—round the other way.” Leon began it, and we all burst into a laughing chorus. “What is the joke?” asked Renie. “Joke! Suppose you and Miss Kendle fall into line with us and we will explain.” And the march continued, horns blowing, drums beating, and nil shouting ut the top of our voices; and so the successful rescuing party returned with the lost one. It was about Christmas when the Kendies gave a grand dinner. Renie sat on j the left of Miss Helen and a stranger, a young man whose looks 1 scarcely remember, sat on her right. Of course Rente monopolized Miss Kendle. The young stranger tried to join in the conversation, but was not successful. I ! cannot say Renie was rude to the man, he did not seem even to recognize his existence. “Don’t you think it is outrageous?” whispered Miss Tipman, my neighbor. “What?” 1 asked. “Don’t you know?—of course you do i —everybody does except him—” “Him?” i

At that moment Mrs. Kendle gave the signal for leaving the table, and mv question was left unanswered’. We were allowed to smoke in the drawing-room at the Readies’ so we followed the ladies. Miss Tipman captured Renie and insisted on his looking over the family photograph album with her. He did it politely, but his attention and eyes would wander across the room where Miss Kendle was talking with the stranger. But Miss Tipman kept him at the album. What was she unout? I wondered; surely, not trying to fascinate Renie; she must woll know any attempts of that kind would he wasted. Besides, Miss Tipman was not a fiirt; she was one of those—yes, I must say it —uncomfortable women to have about. One of those women who are always trying to “do their duty.” What was she up to now? Talking loud enough for any one near to hear, so there was no indiscretion in my listening. “There, do you know her?” “Yes,” answered Rente, turning over the page, anxious to finish the book. “And do you know him?” “No.” Again Jn> would turn the puge, blit Miss Tipman put her hand upon his.

“Butdon’tyou recognize that picture?” she insisted. “Well, yes; it is of the man who snt next to Miss Kendie. 1 was introduced, but forgot his name.” “But don’t you know who lie is?” “No, and what is more ” “Don't vnu know he is engaged to Miss Kendie?” This time Renie turned the page without any hindrance from his neighbor. He closed the book, rose and laid it on the table, turned, and without a word to anyone left the room. Miss Tipmun and I looked at each other for a few moments in silence. I felt as if I must say something. If she had been a man 1 should have told him lie was a first-class fool. As it was, I simply remarked, “You’ve done it!” “I thought it was right,” she answered, compressing her lips disagreeably. Renie went home and had a brain fever, and Miss Helen Kendie married the other man. Why had I not remembered all this when my old friend usked about madamc. who was Miss Kendie? What right had I now, after my brutal manner of announcing Miffs Kendlo’s death, to criticise Miss Tipmun? Renie did not make me a long visit, ; but at the door 1 uguin promised to find I out “if it was really true.” “She was a charming woman,” he said, ias we shook hamls; and for the second J time I repeated, “A charming woman!” i “Aud he has never married?” asked Pauline when I closed the door.

“No.” “And was she handsome?” I hesitated, but why should 1 not tell the truth to Pauline’ “No.” “And was the other as handsome as Monsieur?” “Oh. no; nothing like!” “But he was the richest?” i “Yes, I suppose he was.” I well knew Renie had only a modest patrimony, while “the other” had houses and lauds and a “big business.” For a while I worked in silence, Pauline's eyes were very bright, with a suspicion of tears. 1 knew- her thoughts had wandered from Renie to her soldier lad and the baker’B shop that was to be opened on his return, where behind the counter Pauline was to reign supreme. At last Pauline's thoughts returned to Renie, for she said with an accent of conviction in her voice, “How could she have done it? I don't understand,” thus unconsciously echoing what “the old set” had exclaimed many years ago. I wrote to a friend as I had promised,

and received the reply expected—- “ Madame , who was Miss Helen Kendle, died several years ago.” This note I enclosed to Renie and lie sends me a card in acknowledgment. On it he has written—“ Thanks, my friend, for voui note. lam sure those who die do not suffer the most.” And Renie Normandisan eminent professor of philosophy.—[Boston Transcript.

CLOAK-HOUSE MODELS.

They are Very Scarce and Control Fair Salaries. Cloak manufacturers are complaining of the great scarcity of desirable models. There was a time, they say, when an advertisement for a model or figure, us they are called in the business, would bring forth a flood of replies. This is the busiest season of the year, and many new models are required to “try on” in the work and sales rooms. There are thousands of young women in this city who imagine themselves physically cut out to become a cloak model, but they are far from it. The public knows very little concerning the requirements for a figure. The fact flint they nre paid from $lO to $lB per week for comparatively easy work is a sure indication that they are not to be had in great numbers. It doesn’t require any experience to be a model. One must be graceful and have fine physical proportions. Good looks don’t count, either, though a showroom figure must have some attractions and dress much better than an unknown model.

Manufacturers as a rule require a woman of about 5 feet, tij inches in height. She seldom goes under that, but sometimes half an inch more is desirable. Misses’ figures go according to age ami in very few cases become good women models. The professional figure hns a natural grace about her that cannot be acquired by artificial means. Any young woman who has the height mentioned above, a bust measurement of 3tj inches, waist 24 inches, length of back from IG4 to 17 inches, amis 24 inches, neck 124 inches, hips 42 inches and 134 inches across the shoulders, is a perfect figure and can find steady employment in any cloak house, at any time if she chooses. January, February, July and August are the busiest months in the cloak business. During the first two months out-of-town buyers flock here in great numbers to purchase goods for the spring and summer trude. The last two mouths are used for laying in a supply of fall and winter wraps and suits. The showroom figures generally have a contract for ail the year around and are paid in full for the same, but they seldom have to do much outside those four months. The work-room figures are always kept busy. They are the hardest worked of any in tiro establishment. The sample model must be the most perfect. She, too, is compelled to toil the year around. Manufacturers would not to have pay for other than actual working time if there were not a dearth in models. The biggest cloak house in this city employs fifteen figures. The “tryingon" to show to customers is done by either an examiner or the lady assistants. “A model must not be too attractive,” suid a manufacturer. “A beautiful face draws too much attention when a person is buying and results in u neglect of proper inspection of the article displayed. M’lmt is required is to show the stock to its best advantage without drawing unnecessary attention to the model.”—[New York World.

The Skull Made Advances.

A physician tells the following story: “ At one time when 1 was a medical student my cluss lmd been for several days studying the bones of the head. To aid in this a number of human skulls had been brought into the lecture room. After wo were through with them they were thrown in a heap into one corner. “ One night I chanced to be left alone in the room. Finding it quiet nnd pleasant in the half light, 1 sat down to smoke a cigar. Immediately facing me was the pile of skulls. They presented a very uncanny appearance as the light from a dim gas burner played over them, making them seem almost alive with a certain play of expression. One particularly big fellow, lying right on top of the pile, appeared actually to wink at me from its lidless eye sockets, while the teeth in the gaping mouth grinned horribly. Amused, 1 winked buck and offered my cigar, when suddenly there was a slight noise and the skull inclined slightly forward as if bowing acceptance. There was no mistake about it. It moved, not only once, but twice.

“ I dropped my cigar aud sat up straight in my chair, my eye fixed on the grewsome thing. There wus another louder noise and a stronger movement of the skull, when down it came crashing to the fioor and bounded to my very feet. In un instant I ivas on the table near by gazing upon the strange thing and ready for precipitate flight. “ Then the skull gave a violent shake and turned over and out jumped ti big rut. which scampered across the floor and into hiding.”—[Philadelphia Times.

Bleeding at the Nose.

Bleeding from the nose may arise from an impoverished state of the blood. When it occurs in persons of middle age it is more serious, as it is then often a symptom of some other disease. The bleeding can generally be stopped by making the patient raise both arms above his head and hold them there some time. Sponging with cold or iced'water to the forehead and face, and applying a towel wet with cold water between the shoulders will, in some eases, succeed. The application of a strong solution of alum to the inside of the nostrils, or plugging the nostrils with lint or cotton wool soaked in the solution, may be necessary if the bleeding is profuse. The health of the person subjected to the attacks should be improved by nutritious diet — animal food, with potatoes, green salads, and fruit. The following prescription may be relied on; Tincture of steel, 2 drums; dilute muriatic acid, 1 drum; syrup of orange peel, 1 ounce; infusion of calumba. 7 ounces. Mix for a chib]., one table spoonful in a wine glass''of water before meals; for ga-adult. increase the dose.—[New York Dispatch.

Expensive Quadrupeds.

The prince of Baroda, India, keeps a troop of war elephants that carry from six to eight sharpshooters and have keen carefully trained to maintain their steadiness in the midst of deafening noises. They are not easily scared, even by a wound, and the chief objection to their employment in the British army is the cost of maintaining a brigade of monsters devouring an average of sixty poutids of vegetables a day.—[New York Voice

BOUND FOR AMERICA.

SCENES ON AN AMERICAN PACKET. A Gathering of All Nation*—How the Undesirable Secure Passage-Rows in the Steerage— A Concert In a Dozen Languages. Our Immigrants. Public attention is at present being called with no little emphasis to tne extent of foreign immigration to this country. The number of those who come iA attracting serious consideration from legislators and statesmen, while the character of the immigration is causing moralists and publii ists no little concern. Something has already been done in the way of restricting the Influx of an undesirable element of foreigners, but what has been accomplished in this way Is probably very little compared with what will be done soon after the assembling of the next Congress. Whatever may have been the advantages or disadvantages of wholesale immigration such as we have for a lew years past experienced, it is certain that no more interesting Mudy of human nature In all its phases is presented than in the steerage of a large steamer bound for the United States. For months before the sailing day immigration agents have been at work Sent out by Mates desirous of settling uninhabited tracts of country, by immigration societies anxious to call attention to particular districts or to sell blocks of ground, by steamship lines and railroad companies wishing to profit by the fares of travelers, the

THE POLISH JEW.

agents have penetrated into every nook and corner of Europe, everywhere offering inducements to volunteers to leave their uativo lands and settle in the country of the Great Eagle. From the time the foreign pe isant or artisan quits his native village he is in charge of agents who retain an interest in his welfare. not only until his arrival in America. but in-many cases unt.il he is sett ed on the land designed for him in some

Weste ’n State. As the sailing day of any particular steamer appre aches the cheaper lod'. ing houses in the vicinity of the wharves and docks a:e filled up with men and women whose baggage proclaims the character of its owners. Men of all descriptions appear on the streets, carrying trunks, chests, and boxes containing the wor dly property of the bearers, They are so lowed by their wives laden with bedding, c otlitng aud various necessaries, and on the morning of the s'camer's departure a singularly heterogeneous crowd is gathered on t)he wharf waiting admission to the steerage. Germans. with wooden shoes and tong, loppy pipes are there, their baggage redolent of various odoriferous articles of food, Frenchmen are there, displaying even in poverty some eviden es of taste and refinement There are Ita ians, blackbearded. tierce, ea h probably having a stiletto concealed somewhere about his person There are Hungarians from the Valley of the Danube, foies from North Austria, hussian .lews. Spaniards, Lortuguesc, Swedes and Norwegians—a I going to the Land of Promise, should the steamer touch at an English port, the little assemblage is increased by the addition of a few hundred Irishmen, sorrowful at leaving their beautiful island, but soon forgetting their trouble in looking to the future. Side by side with them are Scotchmen, always ready to turn an honest penny, end Englishmen, always in the peculiar smock-frock so much worn in the country districts of South England The cockney, with his tweed suit aud tourist helmet encircled by a veil, has no place in the .-ticrage: he may be seen looking from the cabin quarters, but must be much reduced, both in pride and fortune, if he will condescend to take passage in the steerage.

The vessel sailing from an English port must, before dually clearing, submit to a thorough inspection by Hoard of Trade officials. This is not an inspection of passengers, but of crew, and every ontward-1 ound steamer is obliged to comp y with the regulations laid down by the 1 oard of Trade. Usually, as the vessel passes down the harijor. the crew is paraded on deck, a Boani of Trade Commissioner calls the roll, while his associates scrutinize the members of the crew to a certain if they are all present and if ail are able-boiicd men. This ceremony, which is by no means a formality, being over, the boats are examined to See if food and water are stored in them, and the Commissioners designate one wh ch sha'l be launched. It is let down fro n the side, two or more seamen take their pla-es in it. and row around the ship to prove'the seaw. rthiness of the little craft. All these operations, so directly in their own interest, are watched with eager eyes by the passengers, both c abin and steerage, to most of whom the ceremony is entirely new. Among the 1,200 or 1.503 passen--gors of a great packet there are usually representatives of every nation in Europe. Twenty or thirty languages are spoken, and as the quarters are crowded there is apparently no end to the disagreement among the occupants of the lower regions in the bow of the ship. Every litt e while, as preliminaries for sailing progress, and generally every day during the voyage, the cabin passengers are entorfkinod by various disputes in languages to them unknown, about matters of which they are equa ly ignorant. There is perpetual bickering about the quarters, about the food, about t.iic heeding; innumerable small he.ts occur, which give rise to noisy wrangles, participated in by both men and women. “Only a row in the steerage.” is on board ship a sufficient explanation for any i n sual racket that may

chance to be overheard. Though there is much talking there is very little fighting. for steamer regulations are very strict, and when brawls go beyond the

limits of wordy warfare intciferen*'* hja p.'tty officer and two or three brawny sailors usually settles the difticu.ty in short order. The population of the steerage is generally composed of working people, men and women of active habits, accustomed to much outdoor life, and who arc, as a consequence, extremely impatient of being shut up in the narrow space allotted to their daily life on board ship. Dur ing their week or two of confinement they find themselves ha d pressed for amusement. In their effort to entertain themselves and pass the time, they are commonly assisted by the cabin passengers, who frequently make up small purses for races and for contests in wrestl m and boxing. The “tug of war’’ is a favorite sport, a long rope being provided; two champions, generally cf different nationalities, choosing their sides and the followers of each side pulling against each other. National emulation in these contests is usually strong, and the Irishman will e ert himself far more when pulling against an Englishman, just as the Frenchman feels it necessary to redouble his vigor when pitted against the German. It does not take much to awaken an interest in anything on board ship, and contests of this kind invariably have for an audience everybody who is not seasick.

The distinction between the steerage and the cabin passengers is sharply drawn. In many ships a barrier is erected between the two portions of the vessel; in others a rope stretched across, aft of which no steerage pa senger is allowed to pass, answers the purpose. The population of the steerage seldom trespass on the forbidden ground, but the cabin passengers, being aiioyved to go forward, often do so in case of sickness

GOING ON BOARD.

among the humble inhabitants of the front. The lack of emp ovment renders the immigrants both ready and willing to do any work that presents itself, and the short-handed gang of ; ailors, pulling on a rope, invariably finds a number of willing helpers among the able-bodied passengers. ft the weather is go d the passage is generally enjoyable, for most of the time can be spent in the open air; but if

s'ormy, the sufferings of the crowds in the steerage are ofte i severe When heavy winds and high seas prevail the hatches must of course be closed, ana In that ca-e hundreds of human beings are shut up in narrow quarters with little opportunity for ventilation, and the discomfort is often extreme. Every ship coming from Europe to America has a plass of passengers who in every respect are very undesirable.

AN OLD TYROLEAN.

No matter how close the watch or how scrupulous the inspection before the ship leaves the dock, persons are almost certain to conceal themselves somewhere about the ve-sel, to be discovered only when the ship is well out at sea. If found before the pilot is dropped they are sent back in the pi ot boat, hut knowing that a rig d search will be made for them they generally conceal themselves effectually, and do not appear until tile ship Is a day

or so out of port, When found they are roughly treated, and are generally sent down and put to work in the furnace room shoveling coal. Their fate

LEAVING A HOME IN THE EMERALD ISLE.

fa this quarter of the Ship is anything but enviable, fur in the boiler rooms the temperature frequently goes up to 120 degrees, and even the practiced firemen "are sometimes forced to leave their quarters and come up for air. If the

stowaway refuses to work he is kicked, beaten, starved, often put in irons and thrown into the ho d, there to remain until the end pf the voyage. In spite of the fact that he is likely to be returned to Europe on the same vessel that took him out, he comes on every voyage, and in some of the large packets as many as seventeen stowaways have been found when tin ship got fairly to sea. But every stowaway, immigrant arid cabin passenger has an equal interest in the end of the voyage, and when passing up the harbor to New York all look with eager eyes at what to them is a new world. At Quarantine the ship Is stopped and the examining physicians go on board. The cabin passengers are usually exempt from the inspection at Quarantine, unless there be sickness among them which requires the attention of a physician; but the steerage passengers afre paraded on the forward deck, and one by one they file past the doctors, who turn aside from the line for further examination every case by them considered to be in the least degree suspicious. If the ship arrives at night, she is anchored in the stream and a Custom House guard put on board to prevent anyone entering or leaving. The passeneers are questioned as to their property, and required to declare whether they have anything new or dutiable. They make their declarations, and the next morning, when the steamer moves up to the wharf, their statements are placed in the hands of the Custom House examiners, who search their luggage for articles liable to the customs duties. The steerage passeng rs, however, go

WAITING ON THE DOCK.

through a different ordeal The cabin pa sengers are lai ded at the wharf; the entire population or the steerage is taken In a barge which, towed by a tug, proceeds to (astlo Garden, where the immigrants are Denned up, trought up one by one and examined. After ascertaining their age. and some other particulars. they are catechised as to the amount of funds in their possession, in order to ascertain whether they are likely to become burdens to the public, and the stowaways and paupers arc singled out and sent back from whence they came, tor, the steamship company being under heavy bond, is required to return them. The others are released after their examination and inspection, and scatter to all parts of the country, soon to become citizens-

One must resort to description when a name is to be spoken that has slipped entirely out of mind. The Northern Christian Advocate says: A certain young theologue went down from Princeton to Philadelphia to preach. He was one of those extremely flowery writers who dazzle rhetorically the tender souls of the younger members of the congregation, and the elders were besieged to have him down again. They at length consented, but, alas! they had forgotten his name. So they wrote to one of the seminary professors, saying: “Please send us that floweret, streamlet, rivulet, starlight man to preach for us next Sabbath. We have forgotten his name, but we have no doubt you will be able to recognize him.” He was recognized. He was sent. He became pastor of the church.

There are two bearing apple trees in Indiana County, Pennsylvania, that were planted in 1792. One of them is ten feet in circumference.

A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND.

That Flowery Theologue.

FOR OUR LITTLE FOLKS.

A COLUMN OF PARTICULAR INTEREST TO THEM. What Ch'ldren Hava Done, What They Are Doing, and What They Should Da to Fau Their Childhood Day*. A Brave Little Sailor. Uncle Sam is not going to run diorfe of admirals and commodores, as can be seen from the picture of brave little John McVickar Haight, of New York, who stands aloft, the “lord high everything,” on his father's, yacht. There no cord so slender, nor topgallantmast so high as to daunt iiim, although he is so small and looks bo fair and fine. As the little princes

JOHN M’VICKAR HAIGHT.

in the Tower looked, so does be with his shining hair and frank blue eyes, and sensitive mouth and smooth, white brow. He has a fine dog called Grouse and a wonderful parrot called Polly, and the same little hands that climb the shrouds feed and care for his pet canary Jeanne. The young sailor is all patience with the mischievous capers of his foxterrier Fido, but with his little donkey he alternates patience and willow switches. Master John has organized a chapter of the Sunny Hour Club, and every week seven or eight little friends meet and tell what they have done to help the poor and the unfortunate. His mother lends all assistance to these embryo philanthropists, and after the business of the hour is over they have a jolly good time. Little McVickar, as he is more often called, speaks English with a purity seldom heard from so young a child, and he also speaks French and German. The Monkey House in Central Park. The monkey house in Central Park is the favorite resort of that halfmillion of children who live in and around New York. Here there are fifty monkeys. In one big cage there are a dozen new monkeys not as yet thoroughly accustomed to civilization. The cage has to be tidied, and so, when the keeper enters with his broom, the whole lot of them squeal and scamper off to the opposite side of the cage, and huddle there. lam certain that they are not really scared, but only pretend. In this lot of monkeys, one two-foot monkey has become the dear friend of a very small one, and so, whenever they scamper from one side of the cage to the other the big one acts as a horse for the little one. All the monkeys are on intimate terms with Mr. Jacob, the keeper, and some are never happy unless they get into his arms or can hang about his neck. As the keeper has to use his broom vigorously in sweeping the floor, it is funny to see him carry around a necklace of live monkeys while at his work. That monkey-house is a scene of perpetual motion. It can be quiet only when all hands are asleep. You will see a monkey perfectly still and motionless, and you will say: “That chap Is dead tired at last. No wonder! Now he is going to take a comfortable nap.” Before you have said that, off is that very same monkey, swinging on the rope, and twice as active and energetic as ever. It was only one of his tricks. You cannot help laughing when a monkey looks at you. If you stare back at him, he will blink and wink, then put his head on oneside with a knowing air, just as would a rude, vulgar little boy when he says; “Whom are you staring at? Hope you'll know me the next time!” If you face him for awhile it will end by the monkey yawning, which means, “You make me very tired.’’—Harper’s Young People.

Childish Chatter.

Old Lady (in drug store to small boy)—What am I to take this medicine in, sonny? Sonny—Take it in your mouth, mum; ’taint to be rubbed on.—New York Ledger. “I don’t want ter!” cried Sammy, aged 2. “Don’t want to what?” asked his mother. “Don’t want ter want ter,” replied Sammy, with a sad little howl.—Harper’s Young People. “There, you naughty hoy, you’ve dropped your bread on the new carpet with the butter side down.” “Zat's all yight, mommer; ze tarpet was swep’ zis mornin’.”—Harper's Bazar. Boy —“ Say, mister, please give *me five cents’ worth of castor oil,, and give me very short measure, too.” Druggist—“ Short measure? Why?” Boy—“ Why, I’ve got to take it myself.—Brooklyn Life. Willie (who has eaten his apple)— Mabel, let’s play Adam and Eve. You be Eve and I’ll be Adam. Mabel —All right, Will. Willie—Now you tempt me to eat your apple and I’ll .aocumb. —Peoria Herald. “Well, Tommy,” said a visitor, “how are you getting on at school?” “First rate,” answered Tommy. “I ain’t doing as well as some of the other boys, though. I can stand on my head, but I have to put my feet against the fence. I want to do it without being anywhere near the fence, and I guess I can after a while.”—Jewish Messenger.