Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 November 1892 — Page 4

gljc gemoCTOtirSenlintl RENSSELAER, INDIANA. j. W. McKWEN. - - - PcnusHn.

I BIDE MY TIME,. I Mfe my time. Whenever » hadowa darken Along my path I do but lift mine eyes, And faith reveals fair shore* beyond the skies: Asa through earth's harsh, discordant sounds I hearken And heai divinest music from afar, Beset sounds from lands where half my loved OOM STSI bide—l bide my time. I bide my time. Whatever woes aasaH me, I know the strife is only for a day; A Mend waits for me farther on tbe way, A Mend too faithful and too true to fail me, Who wiH bid all life’s jarring turmoil cease, And lead me on to realms of perfect peace. I bide—l bide my time. I bide my time. This conflict of resistance, Thia drop of rapture in a eup of pain, This wear and tear of body and of brain. But fits my spirit for the new existence Which waits me in the happy by and by. * So, come what may, 111 lift my eyes and cry: •I bide—l bide my time."

UNDER SUSPICION.

Something very unusual to quiet Talmlev had happened, and Talmley was decidedly uncomfortable about it. Of course everybody knew, as everybody knew everything in that delightful place, where each neighbor was a friend, each friend a brother and what the village folk knew was this—the miller, old Harvey Jameson, had been robbed. '•A queer business,” said the miller, shaking his dusty bead solemnly, and telling the circumstance for the fiftieth time to his near neighbor, Farmer Greene, who had dropped in to sympathize with his old friend: “nobody knew 1 had the money but my daughter Jennie and young Le▼oe, and 1 can’t suspect a single soul. I put the money in a tin box, and put that among a lot of other boxes in the cupboard, waitin’ until I could go to the bank with it, an’ lo and behold! when I went to get it out yesterday, there wasn’t a single sign of box or money. I can’t understand it” “Neither can I, neighbor,” said Greene, running a brawny hand over bis shock of untidy hair; “neither can 1 But I do think you’ve set too much store by that young man ye’ve took into your house, an’ mebbe ye’ve mistook him. He’s a deal toe fine about his cloths an’ his hands, -an’ his hair, to be any too honest; but,” cautiously, as he saw the flush that stole over Jameson’s face, “but mebbe I’m talkin’ too fast; but it’s mighty curious. and one don’t know what to think. ”

“One might try to think nothin’ that weren’t charitable,” said the miller, gravely, “an’ I don’t suspect the lad. It is more’n I’d like to lose, for it takes a time to earn it But young Levoe didn’t have nothin’ to do with the stealin’—no more’n you or me—an’ I’d rather people wouldn’t kinder hint he had.” “Taint in nature not to think it seein' he’s a stranger, an’ nobody knows what or who he is; an’ he has fine ways with him an* talks like a schoolmaster,” said Greene, stubbornly. “I don’t like to see you took in, neighbor, and I’m mighty much afraid you are by that millhand of yourn.” Then Greene held out his hand to the miller, who was deep in thought, and bade him good-day, and betook himself to his duties on the farm hard by the mill. But the fawner had left a seed of doubt behind him; and when has such a seed not found soil to nurture it, until its fruit hung heavy on the giant (tree which shadowed a friendship, or darkened for ever a soul immortal?

It was not without many a struggle against the suspicion that at last Harvey Jameson admitted it with a sigh. Who had robbed him of his hard earnings, save some stranger? for his neighbors were his friends, and honest, as he knew. In Talmley there was but one who had not been born there, and that one was Dick Levoe, the stranger who had crossed his threshold six months before to ask for employment. Jameson wanted a hand in the mill and hired Dick, taking him as a boarder. The young man had “fine ways,” as Greene said. He was not especially handsome, but he was cheerful, courteous, and willing to work, and yet, for all that, showed unmistakable signs of having bad no occasion to perform any labor at some time not far pash He was educated—even Jennie, who had spent a year at boarding school, could be instructed by him. “I’ll just keep my eyes open, an’ not let on for awhile, ” thought the miller; “but as Greene said, who else could have stolen the money?” He perceived no change in Dick, no confusion, no sign of guilt; but greatly to the good man’s consternation, he discovered something else. The young man was in love with pretty Jennie, and she was fully conscious of the fact. There was a new difficulty, and one which the miller did not care to meet. He was pondering on it one day, three weeks after the robbery, when Glavin of the Hollow called and paid him ten pounds which had been due some time. “I hear your house isn’t a very secure place for money,” said Glavin, with a smile; “but I hope nobody will walk off with this while you’re asleep.” “I'll take care of that,” answered the miller, conscious that Dick could hear. “I don’t calc’late on bein’ robbed twice by the same person; an’ I’ve got over thinkin’ everybody I meet is honest. Good-day, sir. Much obliged.” Glavin departed, and the miller went into the bouse. Jennie was singing softly as she sewed at a window; Mrs. Jameson wm not in, having zone to visit a sick Without a word the old man passed into his chamber, and there secreted the ten pounds, frowning as be did so. “I’D send that rellow packin’ soon, whether I find him stealin’ or not,” he muttered. “It ain’t none -too comfortable a feeliQ* to know you’ve got to lock up every shilling you get, aod not toll anybody where you put H* sto hi* supper that evening in

silence; Jennie and Dick chattering incessantly, and Mrs. Jameson told about every ache and pain that racked the woman she had been to visit. But the miller could only wonder whether or not that frank, manly face and those cherry tones of his employee belonged to a knave and a scoundrel. “An’ Jennie and him seemed to understand one another far too well,” he soliloquized; “I used to like the lad, but now I’d as lief see my girl care for old blind Jack the tiddler as this fine gentleman. As Greene says, he’s too fancy about himself to be honest I’ve often heard the greater the rascal, the more genteel, an’ I guess I’ll load the rifle.” He did load his rifle, and placed it near his bed, telling his wife that he “warn’t going to. lose any more money, but the first one that came for dishonest purposes would lose his life.” Mrs. Jameson was very nervous concerning the proximity of tbe rifle; she begged her husband to put it farther away; declaring he might touch it in his sleep, “an’ make the thing go off,” and probably kill her. “I never move in my sleep, bo you needn’t be scared,” he told her. “If I touch the gun, you can be sure it will go off; but I’ll not touch it in my sleep; I sleep like an honest man, j da”

So he went to bed, and thought more of his daughter than of the monev under the carpet. However, he did think of his money sometimes, and, in fact, his thoughts ran fromthat to Jennie, as the thoughts of the money-lender ran from his ducats to bis daughter. At last he slept, but not any too soundly; dreams visited him, and unpleasantones they were. Vision after vision came and laded', and his wife was alarmed beyond measure to see his unconscious hands go out again and again, perilously near sometimes, to the loaded rifle. It was midnight before she slept at all, but then her sleep was profund. It was broken at last by the strangest and most thrilling of sounds, no less startling than a heavy fall, andfa loud, harsh, reverberating report, as though a cannon had been tired at her ear. No woman is ever too frightened to scream, and Mrs. Jameson’s shrieks were loud and shrill as she cowered among the bedclothes; and a scrambling in tbe darkness and muttered words she could not understand did not tend to calm her. There was a rush of feet in the hall without; a stout shoulder sent the door inward with a crash, and Dick Levoe, who had made this unceremonious entrance, stood there, with a light high above his head, his keen eyes scanning the apartment swiftly. It took him a moment to comprehend, and then he laughed with immeasurable amusement. The miller, clad but lightly, was sprawling on the floor, a dazed wonder in his face, the old rifle, which he had struck as he fell, lying harmless beside him, and now unloaded; a window was open, and through it came a fine sheet of rain; the old man was soaking wet, and raindrops glistened on his hair and scanty garments: his bare feet were muddy, and altogether he presented anything but an agreeable or presentable appearance. “What has happened?” asked Dipk, as soon as bis mirth could be suppressed, as he aided the miller to his feet

“I—l don’t know,” stammered Jameson. His wife hearing voices, cautiously peeped out from under the coverlet. “Robbers!” she cried shrilly. “They have been here again. Have they shot you, Harvey?” “No, wife, I’m .not shot,” said Harvey; “an’ I don’t think there’s been any robbers ’round. Fact is, I’ve been sleep-walking.” “What!” “I’ve been walkin’ in my sleep,sure as you live,” groaned the miller. "I'm all wet, so I must have gone out of doors, an’ the Lord only knows where I have been or what I’ve been doin’. I was dreamin’ of that ten pounce— ’ He broke off, and hurried to the spot in which he had hidden the money. It was not there. “You’re rather old for such capers, Harvey,” his wife was saying. But he didn't hear her. Very blankly he turned to Dick, who had now retreated to the threshold where Jennie was standing, white and startled, but ravishly pretty. “Lad,” the miller said, solemnly, “I believe I’ve robbed myself. I’ve heard of such things, an’ now I believe I’ve just done that, an’ I hain’t got a notion where I put the money.” “Is it gone?” “Yes.”

“Tnen you had best put on dry clothes, sir, while ! I go out and try to follow the tracks you have probably left in the garden. Your feet are so muddy, I’m sure you must have been there. I’ll report in a few moments.” A whispered sentence to Jennie at the door, and Dick was off to don his boots, and laugh at toe remembrance of the miller’s plight. With a lantern be went out into the rain, and his gravity departed again as, under the window of the miller's chamber, he discovered deeply-indented footprints, which proved that Jameson had emerged like a schoolboy. The big. bare feet left plain traces in the soft soil ot the garden. Dick followed them on, across the road, and found that they ceased at one corner of the milt A loose board had been freshly replaced. He drew it out, and there, in the aperture, found a small tin box. Taking it out, he hurried back, to find Jameson, his wife, and Jennie up and dressed, waiting for him. The miller took the box eagerly, and opened it with scarcely steady hands. There were the ten pounds, and under them the money of which he had thought Dick had robbed him. “Lad, ” he said, turning to his employee, “I’ve been thinkiu’ ill of you for the last few days, an’ I ask your pardon. If I can ever do you a good turn call on me.” “I take your, word sir,” said Dick, cheerfully, going straight to Jennie, and taking -her hand. “I want your consent to my marrying Jennie some day, when I have proved ndyself able to take care of her. We love each other, and I hope, sir, you’U not iornt what love was to yourself once."

| “Na I don’t, lad,” said the miller, with a tender glance towards his wife. “But a mill-hand gets poor wages, an’ you’ll have to wait awhile.” “As for that” said Dick. “I think you’ll have to look up another millband, Mr. Jameson, for I have another offer, and intend taking it. I wasn’t brought up to labor, and was at college when my father died, leaving me, instead of the thousands I expected, nothing but my empty, untrained hands. I left the college, and fate led me hither. If I have shown no talent as a miller, I have won the sweetest girl in the world to love me. Now, a friend of my father’s offers me the post of bookkeeper in his bank, at a salary on which Jennie and I can live, I know. I didn’t take your money, sir, and I’ll forgive you for suspecting that I did if you’ll give me Jennie.” ‘ ‘What do vou say, daughter?” asked the old man, wistfully. “I love him, father.” she whispered. “Then I’ll only say. God bless you both!” said the miller.

HE FEARED THE OPAL.

The Late Father Molliager Believed the Gem Had a Baleful Power. The belief that the opal sheds a baleful influence found a supporter even in the late Father Mollinger, of Pittsburgh, the venerable priest-phy-sician of world-wide fame. Almost since the opal was known superstition has clung to it, and it has been so held by persons in every condition of life. The way it lecame known that the famous priest held this superstition was as follows: Last winter one of Alleghany’s leading physicians lay sick for months. Dr. Cyrus King attended him. The two had been friends all their lives, and Dr. King watched almost night and day until he brought his friend back to health. On his recovery he presented Dr. King with a splendid opal cet in pearls. The pin was a unique piece of jewelry and was very handsoma Dr. King was also physician for Rev. Father Mollinger. One night, shortly before the great priest’s death, the doctor was summoned to the pretty parsonage on Mount Troy. The aged priest was weak, and lay there apparently powerless. He asked the doctor to come again the next day, but Mr. King informed him he was to leave for New York that night. The venerable priest was lying with his eyes half closed. Just then an attendant turned up the light and Dr. King moved forward to say good-by. At that the priest caught sight of the ever-changing colors of the baleful stone.

‘ What, an cpal!” he gasped, halfrising in his bed. “It is sure to bring harm to yourself ana your friends. Why do you wear it?” The doctor explained the story ol the gem, but all the time the venerable father grew more excited. Finally he said: “If you wear that stone tc New York you will never come back alive,” The doctor insisted on wearing it, however, and the priest took the gem and blessed it Then, returning it, he said: “When you come back 1 will give you a pin worth wearing.” On his return the aged priest was as good as his word, and the doctor was presented with a magnificent diamond. Dr. King took the pin home, intending to remove the opal and put in the diamond, but he forgot, and when hurriedly summoned to the death bed of the great priest he still wore the opal. The father at once noticed it and remarked: “Its flashes seem to make me weaker. The stone bodes ill.” Gradually he sank, and tbe doctor bent over him to catch tbe ‘faint beating of his heart The father’s eyes opened and rested on the titful colorings of the strange stone, and, watching it, his spirit went out

A Salesman's Regret.

“I see that some distinguished anthropologist has figured out that Adam was 128 feet tall,” said Dick Godwin, a cloth salesman, to a GlobeDemocrat reporter. “I am sorry the old man is dead. I would like to sell him a car load of cloth for a pair of trousers. Eve, accoruing to this believer in Edenic Brobdignaggians, was 118 feet from her dainty pink toes to the top fluff of her blonoe bangs. And this pair of gigantic epicures divided an apple between them! It were equal to Mrs. Parvenue making two bites of a cherry. Eve’s neck must have been at least six feet long, and her mouth an opening of a linear yaru! She could carry a Saratoga trunk in each cheek with as much ease as her degenerate daughters transport a wad of spruce gum. Think of poor Adam trying to fill that mouth with caramels at $1 a | pound. The precious pair must have stripped every fig tree in Paradise to make them aprons. But I am inclined to believe that the industrious theory builder is mistaken. Our first parents were far more likely to have oeen pigmies than giants. Instead of man degenerating physically he is steadily improving. Reverse the process of reasoning by which the conclusion is reached that Adam was 128 feet tall —apply the true theory of progression instead of the false one of retrogression—and we have for our primal progenitor a gentleman who might, without removing his tall hat, walk beneath the huge legs of the late Tom Thumtx”

rules for Old People.

Science has demonstrated, as the deduction from many hundred observations. that old people should avoid high altitudes and that abundant sunshine is their best medicine. As to a sea voyage, they gain or lose by it much like others. It is obvious that the falling vitality—that is, the impaired vigor of circulation, assimilation and exertion which characterize advanced years and the spinal maladies most frequent at that time of life, such as rheumatism, cardiac disease, gout and renal affections—serve to determine the climatological problem, and thus, in a word, moderate warmth, with fair equability, abundance of sunshine, withadequatc shelter and level walks, evidently meet the most obvious indication! called for by these affections. The unsuitability of the mountala climate! to the aged is due primarily to ths cold, which depresses those in wbow the circulation is feobla.

AMERICANS BEAT THE WORLD.

Appliance* ftor Fighting Ureal th. NighArt In Till* I’mmlry. There is much to lie learned from America by all of us says the London News, and it U to Im- regretted that one of the crack brigades of the States could not have crossed the ocean to attend the present firemen’s congress. We may find one more opportunity for the lesson If the committee of the Chicago exhibition think fit to Invite the firemen of Europe to the coming World’s Fair. The Americans like to think that they take the lead in this branch of of public work; and by all accounts of them they would still lie very hard to beat. Most of our newer contrivances are probably of American origin. The steam fire engine; the horses standing ready harnessed day and night and trained to walk straight into the shafts as soon as they hear the alarm bell; the pole down which the men, also ready dressed, slide from their sleeping-rooms to reach the basement to save the few seconds that might be lost by their coming downstairs—all these seem to have been matters of common experience in America when they were still talked of as novelties hera The same thing may be said of the alarm boxes.

The American train for speed, and some of their “records” are astonishing. At a fire which occurred in New York two years ago, the first alarm was received at 6:07. In three minutes after that the first engine reached the burning building, which, it may be supposed, was not very far off. The whole second floor, which was 100 feet long, was a mass of fire, and the flames were spreading to the stories abova Other engines soon arrived, and by 6:35, or in less than half an hour, not a spark of fire was left in the building. The water towers, which are huge perpendicular pipes, carried on a movable derrick, pour the stream into the highest buildings at any elevation required. They are packed into a comparatively small space when not in use, but are Instantly reared to their full height by the force of carbonic acid gas. The floating fire engines are largely used in New York, as the city is surrounded by water. The latest is built of steel, and it travels at a very great speed. Its four pipes are from three to four inches in diameter, but the power of all the pumps may be concentrated into one or two pipes, which yield a still larger volume of water. These five-inch streams, in their tremendous force, act like batteringrams and drive their way through ceilings and roofs, and even through brick walls, into the very heart of the fire. In some instances the life lines are fired from a gun, on much the same principle as that in use for the rocket apparatus at sea. The gun carries a thin line to the firemen at the top of the burning building, and with this they draw up the stouter rope they requira The life nets, which are equally light and strong, into whic i people jump with comparative impunity from the highest floors, save many lives. The best of these contrivances have been introduced in our own Are service, in great part owing to tbe enterprise and energy of Capt, Shaw. He was able to boast in his farewell address that during the thirty years of his control of the metropolitan brigade the number of stations had been raised from thirteen to fifty-nine and the number of firemen from not much more than 100 to a little over 700. In 1861 there were no telephones or call points. They now extend over the whole of London. The last moment of his official career, however, Capt. Shaw was still calling for more of everything. Yet it’wlll be some time before ihe ratepayer will enable him to realize his ideal us thirty-two new stations at an average cost of a thousand a year. A perfect water supply was then, and perhaps still is, our most pressing need. Only a small number of the pipes were constantly charged, and there were often more engines at a Are than there was water for their use.

LincoIn's Goose Neat Home.

Near the graveyard where Lincoln’s father and stepmother rest, seven miles south of Charleston, 111., in a place then known as Goose Nest, the Lincolns made their final settlement on removing from Indiana. Here Abraham Lincoln assisted bis father in “getting settled.” as tney called it He helped him build a log cabin, and cleared for him a patch of ground, and when he saw him “under headway” in the new country, bade him good-by and started north afoot He found employment not far from Springfield, 111., where the active part of his early life was spent Though he'did not linger long in the Goose Nest cabin, he was there long enough to stamp his individuality on every heart for miles around, and many are the stories told of his sojourn among these people. It was my lot to be born and-reared a few miles from the early home of the Lincolns, and the incidents 1 shall relate were picked up in conversation with the old settlers about our neighborhood, all of waom knew Lincoln well. I was shown a bridge he help to build, and many other relics of his boyhood days. One very old man told me that he once rode up to Thomas Lincoln’s cabin and inquired it he could spend the night there. He was informed that the house afforded only two beds, and one of these belonged to a son who was then at home; but if he could get the consent of this boy to take him in as a bedfellow, he could stay. The stranger dismounted, and soon found the six-foot boy in the back yard, lying on a board reading. The boy consented, and the man slept with him that night. The boy was Abraham Lincoln, and the other never tires of telling how he spent the night with.the future President.— The Century.

The Result.

Like all primitive people,, the Maories are very inquisitive, and, in the manner of children, are inclined to bring everything to their mouths to test its qualities. In the early days a party of Maories came across some bars ot soap, which had been washed ashore from a wreck. Finding that the stuff was too sticky to be eaten raw, they resolved to cook it Accordingly they cat is up into small

pieces end sprinkled these pieces over the sweet potatoes and fish which formed their evening meat Finally they covered the whole mass over with fern leaves and mats, and, putting earth on the top, left everything to bake quietly in the ovece till the evening. The scene at that evening meal must have' been very fnnny. Not only did the tribe have to go supperless to bed. but the whole set of ovens was spoiled, and new ones had to be constructed before any further cooking could be done.

To Find a Drowned Person.

It is said that there is an infallible means of discovering a body, no mate ter how deep the water in which it lies. I will give an instance where it was used: A gay party of young people, ladles and gentlemen, had been rowing on one of New England’s lakes, when by accident the b. at was overturned, and all fell in the water. One of the party, who was an excellent swimmer, was enabled to rescue two of the others, conveying them safely to the distant shore; but in returning to help another, who was still supporting herself upon the bottom of the boat, the swimmer became exhausted and sank himself, to rise no more alive. It was a sad occurrence indeed, and the gay summer guests who had seen the party embark on that bright summer day were changed into a band of mourners. Efforts for the recovery of the bodies were immediately begun, and experienced persons were grappling in ail directions without success. The water was very deep, and after several days of unsuccessful experiment tne hope of recovery was about to be given up, when some one thought of the quicksilver. A loaf of bread was secured, and, some four ounces of quicksilver having been buried in it, was thrown into the water from a boat containing the searching party, The leaf at once floated away, the boat following it, and tn a short time it began to yrhirl about in a circle, and then sank to the bottom. This was the signal for renewed efforts; the grappling irons were thrown out, and after a few efforts they managed to hook the clothing on one of the drowned persons—the gentleman that made such heroic efforts to save the lives of others at the cost of his own. In his pockets were found some keys, money (silver) which had doubtless attracted the quicksilver. Another loaf charged in like manner led to the discovery of the other body, that of the lady whose watch and jewelry attracted to It in the same way. Had this agent been thought of at the time of the accident, and with proper.means of resuscitation, the noble young life might have been saved. This simple method it may be of use to remember, as accidents of the kind are frequent.

Mother and Son.

In the recent terrible disaster at Titusville, Pa., when so many lives were lost by flood and tire, a poor German' laborer ventured again and again in the burning mass to drag forth victims. He was successful three times, but in the fourth attempt the flaming oil swept over him. Later in the day his charred and lifeless body was carried to his old mother. She threw herself upon it in an agony of grief, and then, lifting her head, said: “I thank God that he gave my son that great work to do! lam willtig.” He was her only child. She was left homeless and friendless; yet in all the miserable days that followed she comforted herself with the thought of the work he had done. In the museum at Antwerp there is one picture which appeals to the heart of every mother. It Is the Dead phrist, painted by Van Dyck. • The’Saviour lies cold and dead upon the ground at the foot of the cross. His mother holds Him in her arms. St. John, his face full of consternation and turns to two angels standing near, and points to the .motionless figure. “What does this mean?” he seems to say. “Is this the end of the world’s hope?” They have no answer. They bury their faces in their hands. But bls mother knows. She looks beyond them up to God, her face lull of agony and exultation. She has lost her Son But His work is accomplished. c»he is content.—Youth’s Companion.

A Family Friend.

An old man was leading a thin old horse across the commons in the northwestern part of the citv, when a passerby asked him where he was going. •‘l’m searching for a bit of green for the poor beast, ” he answered. “I’d send him to the bone-yard or the glue factory, ” said the other contemptuously. •‘Would you?” asked the old man in a trembling voice; “if he had been the best friend you had in the world, and helped you to earn food for your family for nearly twenty-five years? If the children that’s gone and the children that’s livin’ had played with their arms around his week and their heads on him for a pillow, when they had no other? Sir, he’s carried us to mill and to meetin’, an’ please God he shall die like a Christian, an’ I’ll bury him with these old hands. Nobody’ll ever abuse old Bill, for if he goes afore me there are those as are paid to look after him.” “I beg your pardon,” said the man who had accosted him, “there’s a difference in people.”

“Aye, and in horses, too,” said the old man as he passed on with his four, footed friend.

The Volcano of Svomboli.

Mr. Sala, in his gossip in the Sunday Times of London, tells how the volcano of Stromboli came to be known to English sailormen as “Old Booty.” The legend is that one Capt Booty, a master mariner trading to the Mediterranean in the seventeenth century, became so notorious for drinking and swearing that he was seized upon by the flend and carried off to the interior of Stromboli, from whicn he has continued ever since to utter profane language by means of tongues of fire and puffs of smoke It is a common thing to hear people rave about the beauty of a sunset, but you may have noticed they never say anything about a sunrise They Dever see them.

THEY ARE DISAPPOINTING.

Wild Pigeons Are Fist BeeonUng Extinct. The last great flight of wild pigeons to visit the United States was in 1876, but before that time such visitations were not uncommon. Now, however, a wild pigeon is rarely seen in some localities, where once the birds were plentiful They have all been driven to the far West, but are in such small flocks that, as composed with the “great flight” in 1876, they seem insignificant. The news of the flight in March, 1876, first came from Barnum’s, a small village in Northern New York. The air, say those who saw, it, suddenly became black with an enless flock of wild pigeons which was passing over that part of the country going northward. For over half an hour the flight continued in na incessant procession, obstructing all view of the sVy, and giving to the surroundings the somber appearance caused by the gathering and passing of thunder clouds. It was not known at that time how far the flock extended to the eastward, but it was subsequently learned, that it reached over twelve miles in a continuous line. The birds were flying too high to be shot at with any degrees of-success, although, during the flight numbers of them were killed by unusually fortunate gunners. Old hunters said that the pigeons were seeking nesting places, but from the altitude of their flight it is not probable that they would rest short of the Canadian forests. Two days afterward, however, lumbermen from the head-waters of the Beaverkill and the beech woods of the adjacent wildernesses of Sullivan, Delaware, and Ulster counties brought in the news that those regions bad been taken in possession by wild pigeons in untold numbers, and that they were preparing for the nesting season.

Unparalleled sport Was anticipated for the season after the nesting was over, but unfortunately severe weather came on soon after the birds had begun their nesting. Snow fell to the depth of a foot all through that region. After the storm had ceased the game constables and woodsmen noticed an unusual and peculiar stir among the birds throughout the length and breadth of the great roost, and at noon on the fifth day of their coming into the wilderness the pigeons began rising and taking flight, and in a few hours not a pigeon was to be found in the entire territory. They flew almost due west That same day, before 1 o’clock in theafternoon. Clint Waters and Isaac Bennett, woodchoppers and bark peelers, were in the depths of the Pocono beech woods, then a vast forest covering largq areas in Pike, Wayne, Luzerne and Monroe counties, Pennsylvania. The sun was shining brightly, when suddenly it was hidden as if by a dark cloud, and a noise like that produced by a gale of wind or the roll of distant thunder broke on their ears. Simultaneously the woods began filling with wild pigeons. Tree after tree was filled, and still the air was black with an apparently intermin. able mass of birds. The pigeons settled down in the trees in such numbers that great branches broke beneath their weight, and this occurring on every hand through the woods was like a windfall in the forest. The two men did not know where the pigeons had come from so suddenly, but when, in the course of time, the news of their presence in the Pennsylvania wilderness reached Sullivan County, people there knew that the pigeons were the ones that had been driven from the Beaverkill County by the great snow storm. The nearest point in the Pennsylvania woods where the birds rested after their flight from New York State is 45 miles from the Beaverskill, almost due west, showing that the pigeons must have flown nearly a mile, a minute in changing their resting place. It was after ward learned that the area covered bv the roost was eight miles in length and four miles wide. That was the last visitation of wild pigeons in localities so far east in the United States where roosting was formerly a frequent occurrence. The furthest east the wild pigeons have roosted since then was in Northwestern Pennsylvania in 1881. Since then the birds have entirely disappeared from the east, and will never be seen here again. They have been driven to the wilds of Michigan, the Indian Territory, and other isolated haunts, and in a few years will be numbered among the extinct birds of the American continent.

His Discovery.

Col. Stone of Tennessee, once told a pretty good thing of a delegate from one of the rural counties to the State Convention whom he met there Tor the first time, and the story has got into print. The Colonel said: “I am gla’d to meet you. I have known your father for many years, but never had the pleasure of your acquaintance. I see that the son, however, is better looking than the father.” “Look here, Colonel,” said the delegate, “you need not be flattering me up, for I am out and out for Barksdale for Governor, although the old man is for you.” “Why, I simply find you better looking than your father, but I did not say had half as much sense as he has,” returned the Colonel. Those standing around roared with laugater, in which the delegate good humoredly joined.

The Dismal Swamp.

The Dismal Swamp in Virginia, one of the largest swampy tracts in America, is also one of the most promising areas of reclamation. It contains fully 1,500 square miles, and is at present of little value, except for a supply of timber. It is an old sea bottom, and the western boundary of the swamp is a sea cliff and beach. The chief animal population of the higher classes consists of waterbirds and snakes. Of the larger animals, bears are and there is a peculiar and verj’ ferocious species of wild horned cattle. The fights of the bears are said to be very-exciting. One sort of a fool is a man who believes that he can get a 10 cent cigar for five. Nxablx every man has his Hit of outrage*

FIGS AND THISTLES.

fIURRY is the I handmaid of ryf Knowledge of Christ always means death to self. The fish that gets a way always look the biggest A lie in business is as black as it is anywhere else.

The devil knows men too well to be seen with a long face. When one woman praises another, folks think she is sarcastic. The devil is afraid of a smile that is born in an honest heart The devil has always been airaid of the man he could’t scare. Many a man has won a boy’s heart by helping him to make a kite. About all some people want with religion is to make them* feel gcod. It is only now and then that you can find people who know how to rest Nothing in the world grows any faster than a trouble that is nursed. The man who is running for qffice has no such word in his dictionary as rest You can’t keep people from wanting water by throwing stones at the pump. Many people are gloomy because they believe all their joys are behind them. People never come to know each other well until they have prayed together. No bread that does not come fresh the hand of God is fit for a Christian to eat God is often doing the most with us when we think our work amounts to little. Passing a saloon door every day makes men become used to the devil’s presence. Learn to think right and you will not have much trouble about behaving right The Christian who can count all trials jov can have a glorious time in this world. If money could make people good it wouldn’t be worth while to preach very much. You have a splendid chance to grow in grace every time somebody snubs you. No man can be a successful hypocrite and amount to much at anything else.

There isn’t one man in a dozen who will take the word of a preacher in a horse trade. Whenever a man begins to go wrong it makes him feel good to doubt the Bible. The main reason why some men have cross wives is because they are surly themselves. The man who robs a bank wouldn’t do it if he looked to God every day for what he needs. The man who has given up his sin has given up everything that has power to hurt him. The reason a mean man will not trust in God is because he thinks the Lord is just like him. People are going to hell who might be saved if they had not made an idol of their own opinions. No man really belongs to Christ who thinks be has a right to do as he pleases with his money. How soon you can see the faults in a horse you have traded for, after you get home with him.

The Emerald Vase.

In the cathedral at Genoa there is an emerald vase which is said to have been one of the gifts of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon. Its authentic history goes back 800 years. The tradition is that when King Solomon received it he filled it with an elixir which he alone knew how to distill, and of which a single drop would prolong human life to an indefinite extent A miserable criminal, dying of slow disease m prison, besought the king to give him a drop of this magic potion. Solomon refused. “Why should I prolong so useless a life?” he said. “I will give it to those whose lives will bless their fellow-men. ” But when good men begged for it the king was in an ill humor, or too indolent to open the vase ? or he promised and forgot So the years passed until he grew old, and many of the friends whom he loved were dead; and still the vase had never been opened. Then the king, to excuse himself, threw doubt upon the virtues of the elixir. At last he him.«elf fell ill. Then his servants brought the vase that he might save his own life. He opened it But it was empty. The elixir had evaporated to the last drop. Did not the rabbi or priest who invented this story intend to convey in it a great truth? Have we not all within us a vessel more precious than any emerald, into which God has put a portion of the water of life? It is for our own healing—for the healing of others. We hide it, we do not use it —from false shame, or idleness, or forgetful, ness. Presently we begin to doubt its efficacy. When death approaches we turn to it in desperate haste. But the ne. glected faith has left the soul. The vase is empty.—Youth’s Companion

Catching Birds.

At Farmington, Me., the other day, a cat captuied one of a flock of martins which had their nest in a little house provided by the owner of the feline, and was making off with the cainty morsel Attracted by the piteous cries of the bird, its mates came to its rescue, alighted upon pussy’s back and pecked, scratched and screamed so furiously that she was soon glad to drop her prey and escape indoors. Then the purple martins held a great rejoicing, noisily chattering over the salvation of their mate. ■ ■ -■ 1.1 lli I>■ 111 M About the worst I.'ck in a social way that can befall a man is to forget people’s names just as he wants to U ’reduce thru.