Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 November 1891 — Page 4 Advertisements Column 2 [ADVERTISEMENT]

doubtedly entitled to consideration for their comfort, but a ball field would look queer without its picturesque view of long rows of umbrellas and shirt sleeves. New York will kindly take notice that one of the English commissioners to the World’s Fair lias written the London Times that since visiting Chicago he is convinced that the site chosen for the fair is far better than one in the pent-up town on Manhattan Island. There is little reason to doubt that the most prejudiced of the Gotham editors would reach the same conclusion if he would brave conviction by coming to investigate. There are many ups and downs in this world before you get out of it. To-day you are the hero of a battlefield and to-morrow you may be. doing drudgery—menial service. Osman Pasha, the hero of Plevna, has been located as sealer in the kitchen of the Sultan of Turkey. His peculiar business is to seal all the dishes for the Sultan’s table as soon as they are prepared; and thus, secure against poison, they are carried into the royal dining room and the seals broken only in the Sultan’s presence. The revolution of Dr. Pantaloon Perez in Uruguay was short-lived. He and his followers called themselves the Junta, and organized for the purpose of revolutionizing the Government. Expecting to rally the soldiers to their ranks, they walked boldly into the barracks of the artillery, where Perez was at once killed and the rest taken prisoners. His adherents should have known better than to follow a leader who’ called himself by the sartorial name of Pantaloon. His “revolution” was sure to bag at the knees.

“The Chicago papers of the twentieth or twenty-first century will do better than this when New York unveils the Grant statue—if it ever does.” So. says the Chicago Tribune, speaking of the gingerly way in which the New York press referred to the late Grant monument unveiling. Of course, the Chicago papers of the coming centuries will do better than that when the Grant statue at New York is unveiled. So will all the papers everywhere, for the completion of that monument will be the most extraordinary and unexpected event of modern times. The Ozark Mountains, in Missouri, are a sort of wonderland which need some Western Washington Irving to develop. What with wildernesses, marble caverns, lost silver mines and outlaws’ caves, the whole region seems to belong more to the domain of romance than of fact. There also are the elans that smack of the Scottish Highlands, and a rude system of vendetta, which, however, is distinctly American, and stops at nothing short of the church door, sometimes not at that. Miss Murfree has written up the Tennessee mountains, but the Ozark hills are at present illuminated only by the wild and fearful imagination of the country correspondent, who makes vast holes out of rabbit burrows and robbers’ bauds out of a few* pilferers.

The British Medical Journal throws more light on the mysteries of jammaking. An inquiring stranger, it says, who was being shown over a British wine manufactory, was struck by several high mounds of crimson dust. These he was told were the refuse of the wine presses in which the juice of raspberries, currant's, and other frujt used in the business was extracted for making wine. As it is seldom that anything is wasted in an English factory, an inquiry was made as to the form in which these mounds of dust would re-enter the market; the visitor was promptly told that it was disposed of to jam-makers to give the appearance of fruit to the pulp of turnip, vegetable, apple, or what not, which forms the basis of the confection. It would seem that almost anything will do to make jam of, as the chemist can produce a flavor to imitate every kind of fruit. It is commonly supposed that orange-peel is picked up in the streets wherewith to make marmalade. Probably this is a slander on the preserve maker; but, according to the report of a case heard this year in a metropolitan police court, rotten oranges in the condition of a “black pulpy substance,” and “quite unfit to eat,” as the inspector very sapiently remarked, are considered by the owners of the fruit as good enough to be “chopped up for marmalade.” Oranges for this “excellent substitute for butter at breakfast," it was shown, cost only one dollar a box, whereas fruit for eating costs three dollars. A disquieting fact, indeed.