Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 May 1892 — Page 6

"TAPS"

AN G our bugles sweet and shrill; Lights went out and all was still. uB Soldiers slumbered ■ on the field, The white-winged tents their only shield;

Careless though to-morrow’s fight Should close for them in deeper night) Careless though that far sweet strain For them should never sound again. •Ah love, good night,” the bugles rang, And hushed the song the soldiers sang. Too soon shall reveille awake And shot and shell your dreaming break; TUI cannon thunders usher day, Blumber softly while you may. Wrapped in your faded coat of blue, For day shall need you, soldier true. •Ad, love, dear love, good night, good night;” For you we battle and the right •All, all Is well,” the bugles sing. But ahl what fate shall morning bring? Ball of iron and leaden rain. Prayer and parting, sigh and pain; Who shall victors’ garlands win? Who with the dead be gathered in? As fades the light from white-winged tent; As snap the heart strings bullet rent; As clouds that never come again, So passeth life and all its pain. Bay needed thee, but day no more Shall break for thee on sea or shore. Thee never now a bugle strain Shall summon to the fray again. Beyond the din of battle field Where foemen fight and foemen yield. The angels whisper “all is well,” , No bugle notes our realms shall swelL Tours was the highest boon—to die. To keep the old flag in the sky. Yours now the sweetest boon —to rest He knowgth test. He knoweth best.

AT A SOLDIER’S GRAVE

HE ranks of whiterobed school children had wound away down the path to the sleepy street; the blueclad veterans, with subdued pride, had carried off the scarred old flag, its precious folds caught in the long streamers of crape; the slowly recedi ing strains of the last dirge were borne back on the soft evening air

like a tender sob pulsating gently to the place of the dead. Only a few black-robed women and a little group of old soldiers—this one minus an arm and that one leaning heavily on his worn crutch —remained in the little graveyard, and soon they, .too, departed, leaving only two persons—a bent old mother in a distant comer, and a tall, stately woman, standing, as if waiting, In the deep shade of a gloomy pine.

It was the most peaceful, the most, neglected, the most lovely spot on earth. Nearly every stone had a flag or a sword out in its face, and each name bore after It the Twelfth Volunteers. At first the most solicitous care had kept the mounds smooth and the paths open, but time had gone by and now each grave had sunk to a hollow trench, down whose sloping sides the long grass trailed and across which the stained marble slaps had long ago broken; the vines, ‘ once planted by tender hands, had reached caressingly out and bound all in impartial embrace; flowers forgot where thfcy had stood originally, and tall trees looked out upon the once young shrubs now bidding fair to rival the old ones. This evening each narrow grave bore a tiny flag and its load of sweet blossoms; men, long since forgotten at all other times, were hunted out and honored on this one day of the year by offerings from the hearts and the hands of their old comrades; a sweet odor of fading flowers filled the warm air, and a soft golden afterglow tinged the tips of the Sines and a gentle breeze waved the ittle flags standing loyal and true even In their humble places. When all had left excepting the sobbing mother in the farthest corner, the tall woman stepped out and quickly picked her way over the thick-leaved plants and tangled vines to a long grave at the foot of the hill. Here, also, was an air of the absence of human care, and yet it seemed happier and truer in its transition back to nature. It was only a part of the harmony of the place for Its stone to be lost under a large, wayward rose-bush;- a closely cut sward would have been a cruel discord. The woman slowly knelt, laid aside the little black bonnet as if to let the slowly stirring air cool her hot forehead, and reverently bent her lips to the grass above the head. The last rays of the sun stole softly up and fell tenderly on her face and lighted it, showing eyes beautifully sad and patient, a mouth wonderfully sweet, and a low, fair forehead, from which were brushed back wave upon wave of soft snowy hair. White hair will soften and hallow any face, but here it seemed a crown, a halo sor5 or one as pure and lovely as a saint. Jut even its silver did not deceive one; there was a certain youth, in spite of the look of suffering, that kept one from judgin g her as old—a youth, borrowed, perhaps, from the past in which she always lived, Jf one might guess by the pleading, dreaming’ eyes. From the country, stretching away behind her, came the far-off lowing of cattle and from the town the strains of that Mine dirge, faint but yet filled with a sense of awful pain,. She pqt her hands over her ears 'and still knelt, while her face grew paler, and the shadows of the pinee near by cast their black' cloaks about her ; the silence, the loneliness, the sentiment of the place, overpowered her apd she started to her feet, But, recovering again, she took from a basket great, loose* creamy roses and heaped them about the tiny cotton flag and seemed to ponder till a big tear slowly rolled down each cheek and a sob convulsed her shapely shoulders. She threw herself on her knees again, with her face In her hands, while the sun sunk and the solemn, almost weird, music throbbed softly but dearly about her. iiL jjtfv 1..* ’A't J* «- <

Hers was not an unusual romanoe of that time; she had merely loved ami her love had not returned to her at th< final musteiing-out. The grave bj which she now stood, however, was not that of the lover, for she did not even know that he was dead. All that sh< did know was that the two brothers. Charles and Herbert Milford, haij marched away side by side; she had loved Herbert, but they had nevei spoken of It, and so ho left; Charles came back to die, and she was now at his grave; but she never knew where Herbert was, and—and she could nevei forget him. Thus the grave of the brother had become to her a place of all purity—a communion with the dear, dehd past—and where she went to kneel at the shrine of her old love. Twenty-five years had gone by and her heart had not changed; so, as she sobbed there in her holy of holies, she did not note how even the faithful mother had gone, and how the calm, white moon had slowly climbed up and was pouring its gracious benediction over each little flag-marked bed, seeming to say: • “Sleep on, oh, weary soul! Thy summons has not yet come. * A man came slowly up to the open gate of the graveyard—a man of probably 50, yet his face was older than his walk would lead one to expect. His head had fallen on his breast and he walked slowly, as If In a reverie. It seemed so good to get back again to the home which he had last seen through a mist of tears as he had waved his cap and pointed proudly to the gay, new flag twenty-five years before. His had been a busy life slnoe and he smiled a little once, saying to himself that he was growing sentimental when he, the president of a mammoth manufactory in the East, had stopped off at this little Western town just because the sight of it as he was passing through had brought up his boyhood and memories of a dark-eyed girl who had, after all, loved his brother, as some one wrote him when Charles had died. No, he didn’t care now whom she loved. Only —then, he had hoped she loved him a little then. But now—now; why, he hadn’t any heart now. “It's all turned into stocks and gold,* he laughed a little to himself as he patted his broad chest. However, the laugh was not a very hearty or satisfied one after all. Thus he argued to himself as he went on, following the directions given him by a boy In the town, and stepped cautiously about to the place at the foot of the hill. The old scorn had died out and the world was forgotten; he lived again the days of his youth and loved his brother and drew his life from the eyes of one young girl. So he continued until at his feet he saw a figure lying with the arms thrown out over the pale roses, and with the calm face turned full to the moonlight. He noiselessly stepped nearer and bent above her. Her low, regular breathing showed that she was sleeping, and a teardrop gleamed like a diamond on each dark lash. He knelt and brushed the grass from the face of the stone, and read:

“CHARLES MILFORD." "It Is she,” he murmured. “She did love him and thus she comes to him." Long and earnestly he looked at her quiet face, like an angel’s in the white moonlight; then, gently, noiselessly, he bent and pressed his lips to her snowy hair. Just for a -moment, when he sprung up and hastened away as if guilty of some crime, laughing nervously through his white lips, as he whispered: “She is his wife and has no thought of me. I shall go back to the world, for even the world Is never so false as a woman.” While she, a little later, awoke with a cry at finding herself alone so late In this beautiful, awful waste and ran wildly out to the street, her white hands pressed to her throbbing temples, while her cold lips quivered and a cry, like the cry of a wounded bird, rose to them: “I slept and dreamed that Herbert came to me and kissed me. Oh! why was it all a dream?" Angels of mercy are always hovering over us, but sometimes they only flutter near to us, instead of covering us safely in the loving protection of their wings.

Tell the Truth.

In answer to the accusation that girls of the period tax too heavily the purses of their escorts to ball or theater, a defender of her order suggests that young men should not keep the state of their finances such a profound secret. She says: There isn’t one girl In fifty, I’ll warrant, who would order an expensive meal, or enjoy it when ordered, If she thought that its cost was a serious item to her escort. The average young man hasn’t too much money, but is filled with a fierce desire to see that his fair one has the best and most of everything. It is an American fashion, and a very noble and gallant one, but It can be overdone. I don’t mean that the young man should “plead poverty,” but neither need he assume that indifference to expense that a millionare is supposed to show —and seldom does! A tactful girl can steer between these two extremes neatly and without offending. After all, poverty is no crime. If it was the prisons would be pretty populous.

A Gigantic Temple.

In Seringham, India, is the largest heathen temple in the world. It is a square, each side being a mile in length, so that it is four miles round. The walls are twenty-five feet high, and for or five feet thick, and in the center of each wall rises a lofty tower. Entering the first square yon come to another, with a wall as high and four more towers. Within that square there is another, and within that again another—and you will find seven squares, one within another, crowded by thousands of Brahmins. The ,-great hall for pilgrims is supported by 1,000 pillars, each cut out a single block of stone. Gen. . Gallifet is the most popular military personage in France. He commanded a battalion of the Versailles army during the Commune, and it la said to be owing to his energy that the insurrection waa put down.

TO OUR GLORIOUS DEAD

AFREE AND GRATEFut PEOPLE PAYS HONOR. Decoration Day Awakens Fresh Memories es and Greater Gratitude to the Brave Patriots Who Gave Their Lives for Their Country—Their Graves, Honor to Heroes. The coming of another Decoration Day marks one more remove along the path of peace and prosperity from that conflict, the echoes of which grow less distinot and the memories of it more mellowed as the sands of time sift into the shadows of the softening past. The sorrow for our patriot dead is a sorrow we would not forget. Gladly as we would alter the aspects of that darksome picture of the fading years; much as we lament the fratricidal strife and its direful results, wo would not if we could be wholly divorced from the memory of it. That era in the nation’s existence serves as an awful, majestic background for the 3cene in -which the, arts of peace are painting the happier central figures of the present. In the war’s great grave was burled a nation’s error and humanity’s shame. The fetters of the slave wero hidden in that mound from the gentle bosom of which sprang the newer and grander life of the republic. The war is a story of the past the sequel of which is well-nigh told. Its fearful outlines have been hapily smoothed away until we may pensively meditate upon the lessons it taught and look upon its patriotic aspects with a feeling of pride akin to deepest and purest joy.

"‘Peace Hath Her Victories.”

They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears Into pruning hooks; Nation shall not lift up sword against nation; Neither shall they learn war any more.—- Ps. 2-4.

The nobility of a nation may bo marked by the love which survives the tomb of Its fallen defenders. Measured by that standard this grand republio is above and beyond all other lands. From the St. Lawrence to the Rio Grande, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, loving hands strew the beauties of nature above the graves of sleeping heroes and crown with shaplets of flowers the memory of its soldiers. The exercises of Decoration Day spread a shade of sorrow over the passing hours and quiet the voices of gayety and laughter, and yet they are more welcome than scenes of revelry or songs of pleasure. How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest! When spring, with dewy fingers cold. Returns to deck their hallowed mold, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than fancy’s feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung: By forms unseen their dirge Is sung; There honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And freedom shall a while repair To dwell a weeping hermit there. The Long Dark Night of War. While the masses have no personal recollections of the war, its shock and anguish, all have been impressed by the lingering evidences of Its terribleness. The conflict was ended before the young men of to-day were born, and to them it Is a page in history. The sound of “the Bjkrlt-stirring drum” and the ear-pierc-ing fife does not send the blood tingling to the finger-tips as it does with the did soldiers to whom the war is an ever present reality. To the old volunteer it 3eems but yesterday that he heard the call to arms and hastened to the'front. All was hurry and excitement and there were so many new and interesting sights that he almost forgot the dreadful nature of the mission he had set out to fulfill. The march through strange lands, the stories of the camp, the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of war served as stimulants to the mind. How differently surrounded was the mother, the wife or the sweetheart at home, who with fearful, prayerful heart dreaded the coming of the news that might deprive her of life’s sunshine. Sad, long evenings were those spent by the hearthstone from which the father or sons were absent. What tidings might come with the morrow? What tidings; the morrow did so often bring! But whp of the survivors that suffered most would forego the sorrowful recollections ol those terrible days if by so doing they must forget the glad time when the -boys came marching home triumphant, bearing the dear old flag, rent and battle-scarred but a hundred times more glorious than when it went sway. How vividly all remembered the day when the men a thousand strong proudly marched away to die war. Mothers and wives and sisters and sweethearts had pressed the farewell kiss on the lip and cheek and brow. Words were spoken the music of which was a sweet sound In the ear even amid the din of battle. Little children were awed by the military trappings of the great body of colliers, and wondeHul what it all meant. Old men gave their parting blessings, the last good-bys were spoken, handkerchiefs fluttered a thousand fond farewells, and the boys were gone. And how strangely quiet were the homes they left. Over the doorways lingered a shadow, and a hope to be darkened or brightened by the uncertain fortunes of tfar. Long days and nights dragged by.

r - . v ... . The vernal springs and the golden autumns came and went, and the snows ol winter sifted their silver whiteness over new-made graves. Sometimes a soldiei boy would come home on a furlough and return with a hundred messages of love to those in the ranks. And how eager were his comrades to learn all he had seen or heard. It was like stealing a glimpse of home and friends to chat with one who had recently looked upon those dear old scenes. Hi! Harry Holly I Halt and tell A follow just a thing or two; You've had at furlough, been to see How all the folks In Jersey da It’s months ago since I was there— I. and a bullet from Fair Oaks; When you were home, old comrade, say. Did you see any of our folks? The Sunshine of Peace. But there came a happy time when the great army of soldiers were given an unlimited furlough, and though of the thousands of brave men who marched away only a scant hundred or two returned, the difference in numbers but emphasized the greatness of the victory won, and the imperishable glory of those who died in its achievement. There were happy reunions in the homes of the nation. From the pine-clad hills of New England to the shores of the Gulf and the Pacific there came a glad response to the tidings, “The war is over!" The clouds, dark and terrible while they remained, rolled away and let in the sunshine of freedom that shall brighten as the years pass. The men who died opposing each other at Shiloh and*Malvern Hill and Gettysburg, and were buried together as they fell, have been resolved into the common dust from which they came. The blue coat and the gray have mingled in the mold from

which to-day spring blossoms that sweetly oover the scars of strife, and with grateful hearts we join with nature in the gracious work. Cover them over with beautiful flowers, Deck them over with garlands, those brothers of ours. Lying so silent by night and by day. Bleeping the years of their manhood away; Years they had marked for the joys of the brave; • Years they must waste in the sloth of the grave. All the bright laurels they fought to make bloom Fell to the earth when they went to the tomb. Give them the meed they have won In the past, Give them the honors their merits forecast; Give them the chsplets they won in the strife; Give them the laurels they lost with their life. Cover them over—yes, cover them overParent and husband and brother and lover: Crown in your heart these dead heroes of ours. And cover them over with beautiful flowers. • »*»•»***! One there is sleeping in yonder low tomb, Worthy the brightest of flow’rets that bloom. Weakness of womanhood’s life was her part; Tenderly strong was her generous heart Bravely she stood by the sufferer’s side,’ Checking the pain and the life-bearing tide; Fighting the swift-sweeping phantom of Death, Easing the dying man’s fluttering breath; Then wheh the strife that had nerved her was o’er. Calmly she went to where wars are no more. Voices have blessed her now silent and dumb; Voices will bless her In long years to come. Cover her over—yes, cover her over— Blessings, like angels, around her shall hover; Cherish the name of that sister of ours. And cover her over with beautiful flowers.

No Pepper for Ben Butler.

An old friend who knows him well says: “Gen. Benjamin F. Butler is fond of good living, and likes his meats and vegetables made toothsome with all the proper condiments save one. He positively and emphatically refuses to touch the daintiest bit of cooking that is seasoned with any preparation of black pepper. Gen. Butler loathes black pepper, and will have none of it in his food if he knows it. The cause of this peculiar distaste he explained to me some years ago while lunching at a well-known Washington case. He said he had made a discovery that the South American hides which are shipped to this country are preserved in' their transit by the profuse use of black pepper, which sold at a low price as pure ground pepper to hotels and restaurants. ” " ' I '■ ■ ■ 11 " m \ Miss Schliemann, daughter of the famous archaa;ologist, has made an important Greek find on her own account. She is to marry the son of Mayor Melas, of Athens. Fbovidence has given us hope and sleep as a compensation for the many cares of life. * We must not only look ahead; we most go ahead.

OUR BUDGET OF FUN.

HUMOROUS SAYINOB AND DOINGS HERE AND THERE. Joke* and JoUeleU that Art Supposed te Have Been Recently Bom—Btjliigs and Doings that. At* Odd, Carious and Laughable. A Good Investment. “It has cost xou a good deal to put your son through college?” “Yes.” “Do you think It is likely to pay you?” “Well, I expect so. He has already received one offer from a professional base-hall club.”—New York Press. Only One Cause Likely. Mrs.' Greatman (wife of a Congressman) —“What is the matter with my husband, Doctor?” Doctor—“ Brain strain.” Mrs. Greatman—“Dear me! He must have been drinking again and trying not to show it.”—New York' Weekly. Reversing Things. People in Japan are called by the family name first, the individual, or what we should call the Christian name, next, and then the honorific—thus: “Smith Peter Mr. ” An Urgent Case. Poor Patient—“l sent for you, doctor, beoause 1 know you are a noted physician, but I feel it my duty to inform you that I haven’t over $25 to my name.” Dr. Biggfee—“Very well, then, we must cure you up as quickly as possible.”—New York Weekly. Going to Visit Them. “Where are you going, my pretty raatd?” “I’m going to Dwight, kind sir,” she said. “You surely don’t drink, my pretty maid?” “Butl’ve driven my lovers all to It,” she sail’.—New York Herald. No Give Away. “Old Goldbug is to marry the beautiful daughter of Harduppe, I believe?” “Yes; the wedding takes place tomorrow. I have been invited.” “Does her fath&f give her away?” “Give her away! No. He’s selling her.”—New York Press. The Foreign Idea. Promising Musician—Am I really an artist, my good, kind master? Instructor—Not yet, my dear child, but you will do quite well for a season in America—and your funds are getting low. An Ancient Lady. Mrs. Henpeck (at 2 a. m.) —“While the lamp holds out to burn the vilest sinner may return.” Henpeck (of the D. G. Ry., just home from the lodge)—“All ri’, my dear. I’ll shend ’n get a pigshead—a hogshead of oil.”—General Manager.

A Lucky Woman. Mrs. Brainie—“After ten years of married life my husband still says I’m an angel.” Friend— he mean it?” Mrs. Brainie—“Of course not; but I think I’m mighty lucky to have a husband who pretends to mean it* ” New York Weekly. Next-Door Goitsip. Mrs. Simpkins—l see our new neighbor has bought a handsome um-brella-stand for her hall. Mr. Simpkins—And now she makes her husband come into the house through the kitchen and leave his umbrella in the sink.—Judge. A Lam. Excuse. Ensign Lehmann, while promenading in the Berlin Zoological Gardens in civil attire, sees his Colonel approaching in the distance, and hastily conceals himself behind a tree to escape observation. Colonel (next morning in the bar-rack-yard)—Ensign Lehmann, how came I to see you in plain clothes the other day in the zoological garden? Lehmann—Because the tree was not thick enough, Colonel.—Familien Wochenblatt. Her Ignorance. Mrs. Cumso—l’m glad it’s a tin wedding we are invited to next week and not a silver wedding. Silver presents are so frightfully expensive. Cumso—My dear, you are evidently unacquainted with the fact that we are expected to take a present made of American tin.—lndianapolis Journal. On for th© Afternoon. He had a half-holiday and about 1 o’clock p. m. he came to a friend’s office and sat down. “Well,” inquired the man at the desk, “what have you got on for the afternoon?” “Nothing,” he replied, with a listless air; “that is, nothing except my clothes. ” —Detroit Free Press. An Advantage of Age. “I’d like to be grown up,” sighed Bobby, “for then I’d be helped first to pie and get through in time to have a second piece.”—Harper’s Young People. It Was Enough. “Only one word, Gladys!” he pleaded. “One little word!” The young woman looked at the slender-shanked youth on his knees before her, and she opened her beautiful lips and softly said: “Rats!” An Abused Wife. Married Daughter—“On, dear, such a time as I do have with that husband of mine! I don’t have a minute’s peace when he’s in the house. He is always calling me to help do something or other.” Mother—“ What does he want now?” Daughter—“He wants me to tramp way upstairs just to thread a needle for him, so he can mend biscothes.” —New York Weekly.

A New Orchid.

A new orchid, long sought for, which is to immortalize the name of Right Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, who has a passion for orchids, and almost always wears one in his buttonhole, has been discovered and brought to England. It was found by the agent of an English firm in the Merapi mountains, and is named the Cypripedium Chamberlainianum. Distinction is an eminence which is attained but too frequently at the expense of a fireside.

HANGING WITHOUT SUPPORT.

An Buy and Attractive Parlor Trick for Amateur*. Dip one or more strings or threads In a strong solution'of salt. Let them dry and repeat this same thing three times. This preparation is the secret of your stock In trade and you may show the threads to your audience at the beginning of the performance, says an exchange. Take one of these prepared threads, tie a ring to it and suspend it in the air; then set the thread on fire with a match. It will burn from end to end and the spectators will anticipate the dropping down of the ring. But if you have prepared your thread properly nothing of the kind will happen. The thread, of course, was burned, but a little fine salt tube remains, which, if guarded carefully against draught, will prove strong enough to support the ring. This clever trick can be played in various ways. A little fine piece of cambric may be taken and a thread tied to each corner. The whole is then dipped Into the brine solution and when properly prepared and dried it is suspended from the chandelier like a hammock. An empty egg-shell is placed in the cradle and fire set to the improvised hammock until it is completely consumed by it. Again, if the preparation has been correct, the egg will not fall to the floor, but will remain hanging where it is. Both ring and egg are

thus suspended In mid-air without string or thread, for you have burned these before the eyes of your audience.

Betrayed by His Own Curiosity.

During the Mohammedan festival of the Baixam, an inhabitant of the village of Funduckli, in Turkey, had dressed his child, about two years old, in a shawl and a cap ornamented with pieces of gold, and intrusted it to a slave, who had left it for a moment seated in the court of the house. On his return the child was gone, and every search for it proved ■fruitless. The father applied to the seraskier (the military commander of the district), entreating him to inquire into the circumstances. This officer reflected that the child could not be carried far, on account of its cries, and therefore must have been taken by one of the neighbors. He did not communicate this idea to any one, but directed one of his messen’gers to go to the village of Funduckli at the hour of prayer, to enter the mosque, and summon the iman (or priest) to come immediately to his palace. When the iman came into the presenco of the seraskier, he received a positive injunction to come to him again on the morrow and give him the name of the person who first came to inquire of him the cause qf his being sent for by the seraskier. The Turks in general pay little attention to the affairs of others —not even those of their priests; consequently, on returning to the mosque, one man only came to him to ask the cause of so sudden a summons. The, iman replied that it was only in relation to a firman which he was tto have read, but which was withdrawn. On being informed by the iman of what had passed, the seraskier caused the inquisitive man to be arrested; and after considerable search the body of the child was found concealed under the staircase of his house. The inquisitive criminal was sentenced to be instantly drowned.

How Women Bathe In Parls.

The Seine Is a narrow, greenish, snake-like river, and it does not look inviting from a distance. But on entering the swimming baths formed of boat-like sides, containing the dressing-rooms, it looks clear and cool. Black bathing dresses trimmed with red braid can be hired for a franc upward, and hundreds of ladies, with their children, daily afford themselves amusement at these places. There Is no effort at fashion, gentlemen not admitted, and the top being covered by canvas to shield them from the eyes of people on embankment or boulevarda Swimmers among the attendants are frequent, and they dive and float, swim and sink at will, and teach the children and ladies to do the same. Some of the French Women are expert swimmers, an(l they go. around in their black, baggy suits, chasing about the platforms, eating sandwiches qr drinking penny syrups or clarets and end the performance by (Jiving Into the water and swimming a race. Trapezes, swings, etc., are suspended above the water and gymnastic exercises are indulged in by the younger and more ambitious. On leaving the baths they dry their hair sufficiently, put a crimped peruke over their straight locks, a dash of powder and a bit of lip salve —a .stick of which every French woman carries in her pocket—to slightly color and eliminate any dryness, and with a deft adjustment of the inevitable black veil, my lady is well coiffed, and if her dress be suitable, can take a drive before going home.

Hours for Labor.

The minimum age of employment on the continent is generally 12 or from 12 to 14. But then English children only work twenty-eight hours per week, while in France and Germany the hours are thirty-six, in Italy and Hungary fprty-eight, in Holland sixty-six, and in Belgipm seventy-two.

More Power to Him.

A prophet in Athens, Ga.. predicts that the crop yield this year throughout this country will be the largest ever known, but that beginning with 1893, and for two years thereafter, there will be the greatest famine the world has ever known.

A Hig Grinder.

The tooth of a mastodon has beam found on a farm near Zanesville, Ohio, I It (the tooth) weighed eight and one- j quarter pounds.

DEATH-DEALING FLOOD

FEARFUL CALAMITY AT SIOUX CITY. A Cloud-Burst Claim* Upward of Thirty Victims and Inflicts 81,000,000 Damage —An Insignificant Stream SwoUen to a Highly Torrent. Death on Its Crest. Wednesday morning the most fearful flood ever known in lowa struck Sioux City. It was the result of a cloudburst in the valley of the Floyd River. The loss of life is appalling, but its exact extent is not yet known. Fifteen bodies have already been recovered, and it is feared the victims will be at least double that number. Reports of the missing show fully 100 persons are not yet accounted for. Most of them are children, and it is thought that the majority of them have wandered away in their tenor and are being sheltered by strangers. The valley of the Floyd, from the manufacturing suburb of Leeds down to the Missouri, is from one to two miles wide, a low flat, and includes the manufacturing and industrial districts of the city, the railroad yard and shops, and the houses of a large part of the laboring classes of the city. The water came down with a rush and in an hour the valley was a roaring sea from river to bluff. The river continued to rise, coming up Third and Fourth streets in the Missouri bottom at the rate of two’ blocks an hour and reaching across most of the business part of town. The people were taken by surprise and some were so struok by terror as to be unable to make a move to escape. One rider in a sulky was met by the wave as It came up Fourth street and was drowned. Many fled but half dressed. Others were unaware of the danger and their first warning was when they were snatched by the rescuers, placed in wagons and hurried to plaoes oi safety. There were many helpers, but most of them, having no boats, were powerless. Early in the day a woman was seen wading in the stream, holding a child above her head. A rescuing party went for her in a boat, but the current carried them by, and the woman and child were seen to disappear under a mass of rubbish and were drowned. Nellie West and a man named Polly and three children were also drowned, and when last seen the mother was wildly waving a piece of carpet out of a second-story window as the house floated away. One old lady was found sitting astride the roof of a house up to the eaves in water and was rescued.

A house containing a man, a woman, and a large family of children floated down the-center of the stream. It struck a bridge and went under. The rescuers made for the spot and the woman was rescued after four attempts. Cheer on cheer went up from the throats of the watchers on the road. A house with Beven oocupants floated down, and a barge made several unsuccessful attempts and finally saved all of them. One man was seen swimming ashore with a woman and a child on his back. The woman was chilled and frightened, and dropped, the infant. One woman gave birth to a girl baby, and both will survive the terrible day. A rescuing crew of two men, whose names could not be learned, saved several families and finally, in order to get a family out, cut into the roof of a house. They got the family of three, a man, wife, and child, and started for the shore. The boat capsized in the middle of the stream and all five were drowned. Twenty-one bodies were seen to pass under the structure of the elevated railroad in a space of two hours after the flood came. To add to the horror the rising water slacked lime in the Queal &' Co. lumber yards. Pieces of this huge raft of blazing lumber floated down the stream, setting fire to houses in their path. The first note of warning was a telegram received from Hinton, twelve miles up the valley, saying that a four-, teen-foot rise was coming. Intelligence was sent to the police station, and Chief Hawman was notified. He sent at once for an engine, loaded a boat, and started up the Illinois Central tracks for Leeds. The wave was struck when but a short distance up, and the bofvt was launched at once. From one house three children were taken, but the mother could not be rescued and perished. From another house seven people were taken who had crawled., into the attic. Five people were removed from a tree. The debris piled up so that it would bear the weight of a man and greatly hindered the work. When the word came Captain of Police Wicks an 1 a posse made haste for the flat and warned as many as coujd be reached before the flood came. Many would not listen to words of warning, saying they had seen high water before. They stayed and were drowned. Others were saved, with little of their belongings.

The water rose four feet in one hour and a half, and from 9 o’clock continued to rise steadily, but not so rapidly. Probably 1,000 inhabitants of the city live on the low ground which is overflowed. So j’apid was the rise of the tide that great numbers were unable to escape and the work of rescue engag ed every energy of the people. At 10 o’clock the fire alarm was sounded to call out more workers. All the boats from the boat houses on the Sioux River were brought in and used to save life and property. At 1 o’clook p. m. the water had reached to Jenning’s store on Fourth street. The Hotel Fowle and the Boston Investment Company’s building were surrounded. The Union depot was cut off at 9 o’olock. It is estimated that 8,000 .people have been driven from their homes. All business Is suspended. Before noon the ladies had several soup and lunch houses opened for the flood sufferers. At nbon 375 people had registered for relief and the applications had then only Just been begun. The scenes along the verge of the waters were pitiful. There was neither gaslight nor electric light, as both plants were under water. The water was slowly receding at night. A citizens’ meeting at the courthouse organized to provide several thousand people with shelter. The damage to property will reach $4,000,000. The loss of the Sioux City and Northern Railroad will exceed $200,000. Miles of cedar block paving were washed out.

Two Philanthropists.

First Philanthropist—“ What have you been doing for the past five or six years?” *. Second Philanthropist been collecting money to assist poor negroes to emigrate to Liberia. What have you been doing?”. First Philanthropist collecting money to assist them back agalin.”—Harper’s Bazar.

Old Acquaintance.

Walter (as Moodies is about to leave) —Ahem! sir. It is customary, sir, for patrons to-«*ahem!—to -remember the waiter, sir. Moodjes—Oh, never fear! I shall jfcot forget you in a hurry. How could 1, When we have been together so long? It seems ten years since I gave my order.—Harper’s Bazar.