Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 July 1892 — Page 6
SljcllcmocraticSftttiiifl RENSSELAER, INDIANA. J. W. McEWEN, --- Potmsheb.
OUT IN THE COUNTRY.
A STUDY OF RURAL SCENES AND INCIDENTS. r Methods of Farm Life Contrasted with Those 111 Vogue When Pioneers Held Sway—Seed Time and Harvest, Marriage Bells and Funeral Marches. Then and Now. Spring In the country Is an uncertain season, and as a rulo the more uncertain it Is tHe more profitable will be the months that follow it, writes a Plymouth, Ind.. correspondent in the Chicago Herald. One of the bost years In a farming way here in Northern Indiana was in 1884, and It was a year which ope nod full of persistent discouragements. In the first place winter remained as long as there was a ghost of a Welcome, filling the trees with sleet as late April, and then succeeding with frequent rains till the soil seemed like a saturated sponge, and highways were simply quagmires. As June wore away and the time of harvesting drew near farmers began to see they never could drive their heavy reapers into the iields, and they began that demand for the old-fashioned cradle which Jiad been abandoned twenty years before. Factories set their men at work on the obsoleto Instrument, once common In the harvest field, and Implement dealers everywhere were supplied. Farmers bought mighty few twine binders in 1884, but they carried home through the intermitting rains many cradles, and swung them through the standing grain as July opened. Yet, 1884 was more than an a verage g; od year. Corn that was guiltless of plow but owed Its cultivation to tlie primitive hc o was hea vier than over before; and as to fruit, it was plentiful and of the finest flavor. To be sure, incessant rains are discouraging. If they trouble you in the city, whose convenience alone is assailed, how much more annoying they must be to farmers, whose very living depends upon their absenco at times as much as oil their presence at other times. Remem boring Former Days. But rains are not the only qualities ol the country. As one wanders about fields familiar in boyhood, and mingles again in the scenes so long neglected, so long exchanged for alien ways, the past coincs back and all the farm region is invested with the habit and the beauty of thirty years ago. In these old times the seasons eeern always to have been fair. Plow lund was broken for corn as soon ns the frost departed and the soli settled. After the plow came the harrow, pulverizing the clods and mellowing the earth for the gracious reception of seed Meantime the warmth of spring was in the tree tops, and tiny leaves were slowly opening. Corn must, be planted whep cak leaves were the size of squirrels’
ears. That was usually the middle of May, though some farmers discounted the prophecy a little and planted earlier, while •till others waited—through choice or compulsion—and put In their crops as late as the first of June. In cither case much dej ended on the season, and It was as likely to prove the early or the late man w ise as to follow the average rule. In those times, after the harrowing was done, the hired man “laid out the land.” He had a timber twelve feet long supported on three legs at equal distance apart. In front was a pair
IN NATURE'S GYMNASIUM.
of thills, between which Ihe steadiest horse on the place was hitched. Iho hired man drove forward across the mellowed field, his “marker” scraping three shallow trenches In tLe earth. Coming hack, his righthand “leg” ran In the outer trench made In the preceding trip, and the two remaining marking new lines on the face of the field. This back-and-forth process was repeated till .the field was marked with parallel lines from side to side. Then the cross marking began, cutting the surface Into little squares of four feet, and into the intersections of t)ie trenches was dropped the com. Boys and girls worked as droppers, carrying half a peck or so of selected seed corn in a shallow basket and plumping down three or four grains as they walked forward. Behind them came the “coyerors. ” men with hoes, vrho heaped the. finest and softest earth over the bright grains of corn, and patted the little mound gently with the Hat of the hoe as they passed on to succeeding hills. Droppers were .paid 125 cents a day for their work, while coverers received from 75 cents to 51.25, depending ou the scarcity of adult field hands. There were always plenty of children. 'When the field was planted—'and of the merry hour 3 that passed vhlie that was doing no farmer boy needs to be reminded—the formal quitting of the field was celebrated by the “king hill.” This was the last remnant of fetish worship in the country/ A hill was prepares, perhaps a yahl In diameter, and upon its surface was thickly scattered the remnant of seed in the baskets. Mellow earth was piled op top, and. the king hill was done. It.was la. essence usi attempt to propitiate the season, and win for the field fair days and warm nights. Of course the corn in the king hill never matured. It •tood too thick for that But no one asked it to mature. If It only grow rank and set a happy pace for the earnest stalks In the field, that was all that was required of It V The Machine Is Quicker. Corn .planting nowadays Is done with a machine, on which sit two men. One-drives the hofrses in a right i ne across the field.the other, sitting sidewise, puils a lever at each four feet of progress, and drops four grains of cortilnto two hills at a time, covering them sad dismissing them with a metallic, ■aochanicai command to multiply and repletoUb I.W earth. But there is no Mutlwea; ip a shuck rower, and there are no
king hills when It Is driven from the field. Harvest of wheat comes about the Fourth of July. Our patriotic fathers, sitting up there in the -hall at Philadelphia,‘never knew how wide a land their law would cover, or they would have hurried the sessions somewhat-and set.tho nation’s holiday la June or made heavy'-theif wheels so that
firecrackers and patriotism might eoaie In August. Harvest time in the old days was by the crudle. The good cradlor was a much more valued man than the ablo lawyer. The former was a bread-maker, a necessity—since llfo must bo sustained; the latter would have ho occupation If each man rendered to all others their due. There was rivalry among the cradlirs. Four of them In the field made a charming sight. The rhythmic swing, the step eight inches forward as the empty cradle swept back, the stoop and power of the roaping stroke, the gentle riso and graceful tut as 10,000 severed stalks v ere laid In porfoct order—all this wus the poetry of industry. Usually two men were required to “take up" aftor a cradler. They worked wi h a rake, rolling the even grain into a bundle and binding it with a belt of twisted straws. Now and then one man could be found active enough to take up alone after even an expert cradler, and he was paid accordingly. Guthcring in the Sheaves. Boys came after the reapers—though they didn’t want to—and carried tlio sheaves Into clus.ers of a doz.en each, the butts togethor, tlie heads radiating in all directions. At a little beforo sundown all the men fell to and “shocked” the wheat. That is, they set up each dozen sheaves In a compact bunch, covering thAJr heads with a thatch of iho same, artistically spreaded and broken, the better to turn untimely rain. The harvest field was, despite the labor, one of the pleasantest scenes In farm life. The neighborhood wit flourished, the local athlete was tried in the pauses of the work or at the noon hour, or lu the still of etenlng, when men loss
THE OUTSKIRTS or THE VILLAGE.
rugged would have tumbled breathless to bed. Harvest now is a different thing. A farmer drives Into the field with his twine binder and guides four horses over more ground in a day than forty men could have covered in the ancient way. I'lie machine attacks the standing grain, cut It, .binds It In sheaves, and tosses them aside with a finished. Impatient motion. A still lator development has come with improved machinery. Wheat, which used to require cutting before it was fairly ripe in order that the last of the field might be finished before It became too ripe, may no * be permitted to grow yellow and rich with the filled grain before a sound of the sickle Is heard. Thus matured It may be thrashed at once. From Sickle to Thrashing Floor. The thrashing machine Is set in readiness at the barn and the harvester is driven Into the field while the fire is building under tbo boiler In the engine Which is to drive the separator. If ihe field-be large tho reaper Is adjusted with an elevator or endless belt that oarrios the fallen grain up over a roller and drops it Into the broad bod of a wagon drive.i alongside. When the wagon Is full It goes to the thrashing machine and another, wagon takes its place undor the elevator. The grain In the straw is pitched to the table of the separator and fed into the cylinder by a careful man. Wheat that was standing and waving In the morning sunshine is heaped in l int at evening—a visible, golden answer to the prayor: “Give us th.s day our daily bread. ” Harvest time used to be a season of terror for the women who must cook for a crowd of hungry men none too tender of speech, none tjo slow to complain. What ravenous eaters they were! And what a wreck they made of a loaded table! Courtesy Among Housewives. Women in tho country borrow a good deal one from the other, 'they are a long way from market, and if need he they can school themselves to get along with very little. But when social skies are clear each housewife can find plenty of excuse for “running over to the neighbor’s house.” “I haven’t any right to come without I bring home something of yours—l know that," pro ests the visitor; “but 1 wanted to use a colander, and wondered if yotl was using yours. ” Of course the woman visited has no
thought of ever needing the colander, and in the, granting of requests the time of visit is extended till iipproaching dinner hour compels return. It Isn’t much, but it la social life for the country woman. There la less : formality In the -domestic life of the countrymen. Brown takes hia family to spend Sunday with Jones and “his folks.” Mrs. Brown assists in washing up the dinner dishes, exchanging gos-
sip the while, and trading recipes for graham bread and sweet pickles. If the doctor be called upon In case of sickness, and he needs a tumbler or a spoon, or a bit of sugar, he goes to the cupboard and finds it “Helps himself,” say the neighbors, and they like him for it Of course, the younger doctors take no such privi-
IN THE BARNYARD.
leges, but It is doubtful if they win more patrons or heal the sick moro readily than do the old men who jog along behind Inferior horses, and hum a lullaby while patiently treading muddy roads In the gloom of a starless night H iwl to Borrow Fire. But the muddy road Is becoming a thing of the past Tile draining Is reAaimlng
THE OLD SCHOOLHOUSE.
tbo low places In fields, and successive contributions of gravel aro raising the highways above tbo quagmires and quicksands of an early day. Good roads bring tho farmer nearer town. He supplies his household with all things noodful. and markets his produce with tho minimum of trouble. Time was when the pioneer dreaded the ten-mile trip to the store, and avoided It In all seasons. lie found little enough there to buy at best It is wondorful how little he had to keop tho bond of civilization. Even matches were a rarity. If tho tiro vent out on the hearthstone ho muit walk for miles through the woods to a neighbor’s place and borrow a lighted coal. Mrs. Stevens, straight in spite of her 70 years, who lives at tho border of the lake, tells how “lie,” —moaning her husband—went clear to “the forge” one time, a distance of sovon miles, that being the nearest neighbor, and burrowed a bit of fire. It came near going out as he walked home through tho woods,and ho stopped, gathered some logs together, fanned hjs feeble coal into a flame, built a lire, and when that provided coals, went forward with the recruited lire. But generally the pioneers kept the coals covered on tho hearth and provided against disaster with punk and tinder box. Nowadays thoy buy a thousand sure matches lor a dlmo and cook iheir dinner on gasoline stoves. But that suggests tho old Dutch oven. It was a round-topped lisle house of brick and stone with ad(or in front and solid walls all ar mnd. The housewife made up her bread in loaves, and while it was “raising” built a tiro In tho oven, which always s ood out of doors. The thick walls gathered heat, and when the loaves were ready iho fire Was withdrawn, tho bread was slid into the glowing vault and tlio d or wa,s closed. In an hour thoy came out browned as no modern'oven can brown them and baked through with the gentle, steady heat One seldom sees tho outdoor oven now and one never sees betl or bread than the pioneer housewives used to make in them. Fruit Seems to He Falling. The orchurds arc going these late years. Before the war northern Indiana was una; - prom liable in the production of fine fruit. Apples, in particular, were plentiful and fine. Vouches was grown readily, while cherries and pears were equal to anything in the West. But either the seasons changed or departing forests carried the spirits of fruitage with them; for the day of excellence departed. Snvall fruits grow readily, but the farmer Is conservative, and he has
MARKING OUT POTATO LAND.
tried year after year to rai « an orchard where his father mixed ono before him. 110 has lost lots of time. May be the nurseryman has fooled him. May be the winter has killed his trees. The result is tho same. Orchards will not grow and bear as they once did. The public sale is a country Institution that the city man knows nothing about. The good man dies and his widow presently sells off that personal property with which he battled for a living. She cannot drive the plow or run tho thrashing mt» chine, and she sells off ut auction a wrack of enumerated go ds “and other articles too numerous to mention,” as the hand-
AT THE FLOW.
bills announce. All the neighbors come to the sale and an auctioneer gets the best prices he can. It is a place for the politician, and he always improves his'opportunities. For the day the widow’s home is a place of bustle and confusion, and when night comes she comforts the children while strange hands lead away the favorite cow or .tlie yearling colt, or tumble Into Wagons the farm tools with which *hl»”
life was Interwoven. “The day of the sale" is always remembered by the children. And the widow remembers It, too. for she I has in band a package of promissory notes, j some good, some bal. some simply Indifferent On half of them she must enter suit to enforce collection, and on half ol the balance sjie never hopes for a penny. On the remaining quarter she realizes face value after waiting ten months or a yean Courtship In the Country. When the course of true love does run smooth In the country it runs very smooth, indeed. Darby loves his Joan, and has loved her ever alnce thoy went barefoot to school In the distant seasons when he was 8 and could play “blackman,” while she was 6, and danced in the center of that circle of girls, who contented themselves with “Bing Around tlie Rosoy. ” Darby gathers his porsoual belongings together and secures paternal approval not often expressed but none tho less certain. He gees homo with Joan from preaching Sunday night, though she came without escort and could go twice the distance unattended. He leaves hor at, the gate, just saying “good-night,” lest watching comrades should suspect a serious intention. They have few hours together, but those few are enough. Joan la making hod quilts, knitting crrnforters and sowing rag carpet with suggestive industry. When they marry the young men and women “wish them much joy” to their faces, but prepare a charivari at night, 'ibis charivari has como to be pronouncod “shlvareo” In Indiana, but no chango has come over the spirit of the sport
The h"Use in which the bride and groom find shelter that first night is almost sure to tie surrounded by a crowd of stealthy young men, who at a signal inaugurate a din of jangling bells and beaten tin that would drive to bedlam any but the healthiest of nerves. After perhaps a half hour of oxen ise in which all the hood is informed of the celebration. t>i«| groom appears and “treats.” He may have provided against this visit and stored up cakes and cider If he lias chosen autumn for his nuptiala But as a rulo in these later years ho surrenders money, $1 being genorous ransom. And aftor that the charivari ceases. But if marriage is looked upon with noisy mlrthfulnoss, the somber side of life is fittingly adorned in tho country. It makes small difference who the man or woman may have been In life. In death he Is regarded. He may have been rich, ho may have been genorous, lie may have been kindly, or he may have simply lived long In the neighborhood. When his home is in mourning tho bost people leave their tasks and gather to mark their homely tribute to his worth. They aro hushed in tho house of death; they sit or stand about in reverent silence while the service is In progress; they follow the coffin to the graveyard and walk in sadness ail the way. There is no hurrying to the tonili. no trotting of horses, no halting at waysido saloons, no sinister scheming tiy official or aspirant There is the genuine sorrow for a man who lias gone; for a man who was with them in the fullness of life tut yesterday, and is now senseless, something they cannot understand and can only bid farewell to with sobered faces, covering with great, strong, gentle hands the clay that u?ed to know them. There is a genuineness after all In the
ROOSTER AND RAINY DAY.
country life which one mizhtily after the wearisome Insincerity of the years in tj.vu.
Fortunes from Accidents.
One O’Reilly, a trader, in casually stopping at the house of a Boer, near Pnetl, Griqualand West, saw some children playing with a number of exceedingly pretty pebbles, aud on asking his Dutch host whether he could take one, he was promptly told that he could do so, as “the children had plenty more of them.” O’Reilly took the stone to Grahamstown and sold it for $3,000; it was resold for $25,000. A Dutchman named Do Beer had built himself the usual wattle and daub on his farm, but it had been erected for quite a long period before some inquiring prospectors found that the rough coat used for the walls actually contained diamonds. The farm speedily changed hands for SIO,OOO. It now, with its neighboring mines, produces ovei $15,000,000 of diamonds annually, the total wealth from this discovery to date being probably over $250,000,000. At Wasselton, a Boer riding out at sundown to bring in his horses froth the veldt, where they had been run. ning all'day, saw a small animal called a “meercat” (it somewhat re> sembles a weasel, and burrows it] colonies like rabbits) industriously scraping some earth from its hole. Some peculiarity of the ground so thrown up led the Dutchman to fill his handkerchief with it, and after lie had stabled his horse, by the dismal light of a small lamp he examined the nature of the earth. To his astonishment and delight he found a three-quarter carat diamond in the sand. Further search at the meercat’s hole revealed other diamonds, and six months ago no less than $2,550,000 was refused for the farm. Since the accidental discovery over 200,000 carats of fine white diamonds have been extracted from the mine.— Tid-Bits.
The Art of Not Hearing.
A kind of discreet deafness saves one from many insults and much blame; therefore the art.of not hearing should be learned by all. It is quite as important to domestic happiness as a cultivated ear, for which so much money and time is expended. There are so many things which it is painful to hear, many which we ought not to hear, very many which, if heard, would disturb the temper, corrupt simplicity and modesty, detract from contentment and happiness, that every one should be educated to take in or shut out sounds according to his pleasure. If a hot and restless friend begins to inflame our feelings, we should consider what mischief these fiery sparks may do in our magazine below, where our temper is kept, and instantly close the door. It has been remarked that if. all the petty things said of one by heedless or ill-natured idlers were to be brought home to him, he would become a mere walking pincushion stuck full of sharp remarks.
A Natural Result.
One of the participants in a sleepfasting contest held recently in San Francisco remained awake for 158 hours. He is now an inmate of a lunatic asylum.
The Government and Highways.
It has been suggested that the American roads be placed under a system of Government supervision, and be divided somewhat as the French roads are: First, national roads. These to be built and maintained by the General Government, and be located with reference to military and postal requirements. Second, State roads. These to be built jyid maintained by the several States, and connect the various localities of the States, and be planned with reference to the national roads. Third, county or neighborhood roads. These to be built and maintained by counties and townships, and be located with reference to the classes just mentioned. Those who advocate this idea say that if our common roads were improved by some such plan as this we should soon have them in charge of competent and educated engineers. The national roads would probably be in charge of army engineers; the State roads in charge of engineers graduated from the agricultural and mechanical schools; and the neighborhood roads in charge of local men, who, once having had the example set them of how good roads are built, would be entirely competent to de what is usually necessary to be done in making a road of lesser importance. But even under such a plan as this, each county should have an engineei to design the difficult work, determine upon location of routes and inspect constructions and repairs. Strange as it may seem, the propel location of a country highway presents to the engineer more complex problems than the location of a railroad. Country people do not understand this, and are not willing to believe it, therefore the crossroads storekeep er and the village blacksmith are usually thought to be entirely competent to decide upon the best route sot a country road.—Harper’s Weekly.
Silence.
Silence, in the sense of absolute stillness, is almost unknown in Nature. In her loneliest shrine there is nearly always a world of small noises, of stirrings and rustlings, quiver ol leaves, hum of insects, stir of flowerets and grass blades, song of birds—only in the desolate Arctic regions, or the pathless desert, does the explorer enter into the realms of absolute silence, and then it is oppressive and terrible. Noise itself may be missed. The Dorset poet writes truly when he' speaks of the over-worked mothei complaining of the “noisy fun” of he; children; but chronicles how, in latei years, when the family was scattered, “somemarried, some dead,” thelonelj old woman looks back to by-gone days, “and she do wish, with idle tears, to have again about her ears’ the very noise which once “stunned* her. How terrible is the quietude which settles over the household after the death of a child; how dull the silence that pervades the establishment aftei the return of the boys to school, albeit every one had previously grumbled at their “incessant noise.” It is said that a miller’s wife, leaving the mill after the death of hei husband, suffered so much from stillness through missing the clack of the machinery, that she made her servant bring the coffee-mill into hei bed-room every evening and “grind her to sleep.” Like other grievances, noise itsell may be “mourned when missed.” The professed foes of noise often increase what they attempt to destroy. “Name me, and you Weak me,” is an old riddle, but not apparently one always remembered by the loud-voiced callers for “silence.”
Men and Wives Separated.
A letter from Cairo, 111., says: Considerable interest has been excited here and at Paducah, Ky., by tht efforts of two Chinamen to get back to this country. They are Charles Hong and Jim Prang, who went from here to Paducah to start a laundry, and a year ago married two Paducah white girls. A few months ago they went back to China, leaving their wives at home. Since their departure both wives have become mothers, and one with her child is living in Cairo. The husbands uow desire to return, but the Chinese exclusion law is a barrier. In order to help them over papers drawn up by an American consul in China have been received by the local Chinamen asking that the signatures of city officials and citizens of Paducah be obtained, certifying that Charles and Jim were dealers in tea and oriental fufley goods, and that they have married American girls in Paducah. These papers bore correct photographs of the two anxious Chinamen, but the officials cannot sign the tea merchant certificates for laundrymen.
Fitting a Dress.
Sitting in a woman's tailor shop the other day I heard a cry from the fitting-room, then a heavy fall, and then the sound of feet rushing to and fro in wildest haste. “What is the matter?” I said to an attendant. “A woman who was being fitted has fainted,” she said. “That is all.” “Is that a common occurrence?” “Oh, yes indeed; it happens nearly every day.” “Tight lacing?” No; not as a rule. Sometimes it may be, from that, but very seldom. It is caused usually by standing too long. You know it is very difficult to stand still any length of time. A woman who can walk all day cannot stand in one place fifteen minutes. "They feel faint, try to light it off, and, if the litter is intent upon her work and does not notice, over they go in a dead faint—New York Recorder.
Miscalculation.
The Boston Globe prints a story which reminds one of the old saying about the shoemaker and his last. A Yarmouth captain had a small coasting schooner lying in port, and decided to give a lesson to painters in general by himself painting the vessel’s name on her bows. He could not reach high enough from the float, and dtd not care to put out a swinging stage, so he reached down over the side to do the lettering. After finishing the job on one bow, he went ashore to view his handiwork, and this is what met his gaze. —3 IO9YK
Cold Water as a Beverage.
“On the advice of an eminent physician, I have tested pure cold water as a ‘bracer’ and found it is the greatest thing in the world,” said an old rounder at the Lindell. “I heartily commend it to every man who stays out with the boys late o’ nights and dallies with the rosy until his head whirls around, his legs get weak, and his stomach revolts. When you wake up the next morning with a throbbing head and excited nerves I advise you to touch the button and have the boy bring you a lemonade glass full of cold water instead of a cocktail. Sip the water slowly—an hour is not too lopg to devote to it—and you will be astonished at the wonderful bracing effect it has upon you. The doctor explained to me that the cold water, sipped slowly, tends to contract the arteries and force a rush of blood to the head. A vigorous circulation is thereby set up, and in a little while the last remnant of the night’s ‘jag’ is driven out of the system. lam also told that the brain and nerve stimulating effect of pure, cold water has for centuries been demonstrated in India. That semi-heathen country, you know, is the mother of chess. The natives of East India are to-day the greatest chessplayers in the world. When they start into a game they squat flat on the earth around board and never rise until the game is finished. Sometimes they play for forty-eight hours on a,stretch" without sleep or«food, and the only stimulant they use is pure, cold water, which they continually sip."—St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
The Scales Turned by a Hair.
The case was one of assault, and two men Were suspected of the deed. A single hair was found on the clothing of the victim, and this hair was duly pictured in the form of a photomieograph. (It may be as well, perhaps to point out here that by this term is meant the enlarged image of a microscopic object’, the term microphotograph being applied to those tiny specs of pictures which can only be seen when magnified in a microscope.) A., one of the suspected men, had a gray beard, and a hair from his chin was photographed and compared with the first picture taken. The difference in structuse, tint, and general appearance was so marked that the man was at once liberated. The hair of the other man, 8., was examined, and bore little resemblance to that found on the victim. The latter was now more carefully scrutinized and compared wijbh the other specimens. The photograph clearly showed, for one thing, that the hair was pointed; it had never been cut. Gradually the conclusion was arrived at that it belonged to a dog, “an old, yellow, smooth-haired, and comparatively short-haired dog.” Further inquiry revealed the fact that B. owned such a dog, a fresh hair from which agreed in every detail with the original photograph, and the man was convicted. He subsequently confessed that he alone committed the crime.— —Chambers’ Journal.
The Vile,Weed.
The Shah' of Persia haj a tobaccc pipe worth $400,000. The better class of the Philippine Islanders smoke cigars a foot long. John D. Rockefeller prefers a mild cigar, cositing,about 40 gents. Calvin S. JBrice smokes the best cigars obtainable. He is an incessant smoker. "Vanderbilt smokos very strong cigars,. wQrth about a quarter apiece. Though Jay Gould never smokes, he is said to be an excellent judge ol a cigar, and the brands he keeps on hand to give to his friends are choice enough for, the most captious connoisseur. Last year French smokers consumed 4,600,000 francs’ worth of cigars, 10,000,000 of cigarettes, 29,000,000 of snuff, and 91,000,000 of pipe tobacco. The greatest snuff takers are old peasants and priests. The Burmese natives delight in huge, loosely rolled cheroots, varying from six to eighteen inches in length. Among the Anglo-Indians the Trichinopoly cheroot, with a straw down the middle, is a great favorite. It is made in all sizes, from ten inches to tfwo.
Character Makes the Man.
The man of character is always the man of iron nerve; he may not be a great statesman or politician; he may be humble in his associations and his aspirations; but with all tliese exceptions, If he has character his heart is right, his integrity is unshaken. He looks on truth with a clear vision, acting in accordance with its glorious dictates; he does not fear nor shun the face of his fellow-man, for his heart is white with integrity, and he looks humbly and trustingly up to the source of truth, and his fellowbeings, in a lower sense, look up to him because he is trustworthy, and, in short, has character—good and .staple character. Character is the corner-Btone of individual greatness —the Doric and splendid column in the majestic structure of the true and dignified man, who is at once a subject and a king.
No Distinction Now.
“Store”, for “shop” is an Americanism of natural and reasonable growth. In early colonial days shops were also of necessity stores or depots for goods in bulk, since cargoes came in seldom and at few ports. Meanwhile, by the time the coast region had thickened in population, and communication with Europe and between various parts of the country had become easier and more frequent, so that there were shops which were not also stores, habit had fixed the word store upon the speech of the people, and the distinction between store and shop has been lost.
Whisker Probabilities.
Barbers, who have to he silent so much of the time, have taken to writing ,their jokes, like other witty people. “Do you think I—aw—shall have a good beard?” asked an unpromising candidate for such honors. “I’m afraid not, sir,” answered the barber, after a close inspection. “Aw, weally. My fawther has aw werry fine beard, you know.” “Maybe you take after your mamma. sir!”—National Bar bar.
HUMOR OF THE WEEK.
STORIES TOLD BY FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS. Many Odd, Curious, and LaUfhablo Phases of Human Nature Graphically Portrayed by Eminent Word Artists ol Our Otau Oay. Scissored Smiles. The wise man keeps shady nowadays.—Philadelphia Record. The man with no music in his soul should hire a hand-organ.—Picayune. Remains to Be Seen—At ’ the morgue.—Boston Commercial Bulletin. Combining pleasure with business —-sugar-coating a pill.—Washington Star. Stealing away from bad company Is justifiable larceny.—Binghamton Leader. “Campaign badge, sir?” “No, do not badger me.”—Boston Commercial Bulletin. When a man has good horse sense he doesn’t bet on the races.—Binghamton Republican. A man’s days are numbered, but he clan not recover any of the back numbers.—Rochester Post. The man who wants to live in clover need only buy a lawn-mower. —Chicago Inter Ocean. The tramp may be all wool and a yard wide, but he is goods that will not wash.—Dallas News. The man who is the most awkward at saying nice things is usually the most sincere.—Atchison Globe. Tiie cabbage crop is about the only thing a farmer can raise to get a head.—Binghamton Republican. Duck is to be a favorite wear this season, both for ladies and for gentlemen who are in the swim—Lowell Courier. The English language is being ruthlessly pillaged by young people about to commit graduation.—Chicago News. One place is just about as good as another for a man without apy money. In fact he is nowhere anywhere.— Galveston News. No test of the bicycle was necessary to demonstrate the value of wheeling in military tactics.—St. Louis Post-Dispatch. It is said that a swallow can catch 6,000 flies in a day. What a baseball player the swallow would make. —Boston Commercial Bulletin. The latest contribution to astronomical science is that the moon regularly has a couple of horns before getting full.—Philadelphia Times. “Is Mary a good servant?” “In a misdirected sort of way. She dusts the cobwebs off the wine bottles and leaves ’em everywhere else.”—Life. “I staid until the curtain fell on the last act.” “I think the curtain or something must have fallen on the first act. It was so flat.”—Harper’s Bazar. On the steamer: He—“l should judge that you were a typical sailor.” She—“ Well, yes—that is, I can heave about everything except the anchor.” —Cloak Journal. THEVassar girl learns above all things to reason back from effect to cause. When her guitar string snaps she exclaims: “Plague on the cat!”— Galveston News. In Memorial Hall.—“ See here, waiter, this pie hasn’t any apples in it.” Waiter—“l know it, salr, it am made of ewapowatefl apples.”—Harvard Lampoon. , . “Yesterday I told Schlegelmayer that his club consisted of blockheads, and to-day I hear that I have been elected an honorary member!”—Fliegende Blaetter. TnE very heavy veils now being worn are a great strain on the eyesight. Quite a number of young men have been obliged to consult oculists.—New York Herald. The coalman’s season may be the winter, and the summer the iceman’s harvest, So that it’s possible the milkman finds his greatest profit in the spring.—Philadelphia Times. Mrs. Wickwire—“Bridget, where Is the lobster?” Bridget—“ Sure, ma'am, I put it on the windy to cool. It looked red hot fwin I tuk it out, ma’am.” —Indianapolis Journal.. Actor Friend (inquiring at board-ing-house)—“Has Mr. Comedy taken his departure yet?” “Yes,” snapped the landlady, “that’s all he did take; I’ve got his wardrobe.”—Tid-Bits. “Father,” said a 6-year-old boy, “where is Atoms?” “Atoms, my boy? What do you mean?” “Why, that place where everything gets blown to.”—Boston Commercial Bulletin. Her Sacrifice: He—“ Darling, if I give you such an expensive engagement ring, we can’t get married so soon.” She —“Nevermind, dear; for your sake I can wait.”—Harper’s Bazar. Mrs. Good —Young Slimby is a very exemplary gentleman. He takes his fiancee to church every Sunday. Mrs. Sharpe—Yes, Slimby’s a shrewd one. A couple of seats in the church are a deal cheaper than two chairs at the theater.—Boston Transcript. Mistress.— “Oh, Mary, see this mirror I have broken, and think of the bad luck I shall now have for seven years!” Maid “What, that little bit of a mirror? But think of me—l have just broken the big mirror in the parlor. ”-Fliegende Blaetter. “What do you mean by disturbing me at this hour of the night?” said an Austin doctor Angrily to a darky who woke him up at throe o'clock in the morning. “I jes allowed, boss, dat yer was so busy ysr .didn't hab time ter tend ter poor folks in rie day time, so I ’lowed I'd drop in after supper.” —Texas Siftings.
Couldn’t Scratch.
A Colorado paper tells of a picturesque yarn about a chicken fancier who was very touch troubled by the propensity of hens to scratch. Y After many experiments he at last succeeded in crossing a “breed oT longlegged bramas with shortr'legged’ bantams in such a way that chickens had one long leg-and one short one. When they attempted to scratch they lost their bah l .nee and fell over, which, after a feiv trials, was sufficient to show that scratching was impossible, and they gave it up.