Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 January 1894 — Page 4

LET TJB QITS TEANKB. War all that God in more; tend*: Por kod children, horn# kni frieoda, For eomfort in toe time of need, Far areiy kindly word knd di-ed, For happy thought end ho y talk. For guidance in oar daily walk— For everything give thanksl Far beknty in thia world of our*. For verdant grae* and lovely flowers. For song of birds, for hum of bees, For the ref > ashing summer breeze, For hill and plain, for streams and wood. For the great ocean’s mighty flood — In everything give thanks! For the rweet sleep which comes with night, For the returning morning’* light. For the bright snn that shines on high, For the stars gi;t;ering in the iky; For these and everything we see, O Lord 1 our heai ts we lift to Thee, For everything give thanks I —[Ellen Isabelle Tapper.

TWO THANKSGIVINGS.

BY CECIL CHARLES. “Down on my luokf Well, I should say to.” Cory Dickinton shouldered his pack and got up. lie left the shadow of the mountain foliage reluctantly and began again hi* toilsome ascent of the road. The blaze of the tropical sun produced upon him a strange sensation. It did not blind him; on the contrary, it •eemed to stimulate his faculties. Or waa it wholly the varied atmosphere as he climbed higher and higher? No, it was the sun, he decided. The atmosphere was partly responsible, but the sun—the tropical sun—seemed to show him constantly new, strange sights, somewhat even as the tropical night sky with its thousand new stars, had divulged new secrets to bis marveling senses. So he trudged under his small pack over the mountain to reach the oapital. Meeting him, one would have hardly suspected him to be “down on his luck,” as he had but lately declared. Tall, » good looking, well dressed, barely thirty years of age, Cory Dickinson looked like the son of a rich man out on a pleasure tramp—not like a self-exiled evader of the law seeking an unknown field in a remote Central American republic. But that was what Cory Dickinson was doing. As he plodded along the dusty road in the afternoon splendor, his thoughts wandered far away from his actual surroundings. He lost sight of the distant, dreamy peaks, the still hollows, the intense emerald hues of foliage, the trickling, musical mountain streams and saw only the small New England town whence he had lately fled, late Autumnsombre, staid, matter of-faot and Sun-day-observing. He saw his late home, his stern-faced uncls, his invalid aunt, Mason, the hired man, with his grim scowl, and Hannah, the servant girl. Mason’s face and Hannah’s stood out particularly clear and obnoxious. Mason had rejoiced at his trouble, revengeful of the day wheu Cor; had come upon him brutally kicking the poor old family horse, and struck him a smart blow with bis umbrella. Mason had never forgotten that blow nor the way in which Cory had threatened him if he ever illtreated the animal again. Hannah, too, had been overjoyed at his disgrace; she was Mason’s sweetheart. Then, all at once, there came another face that Cory could only see in a thick blur of—something like mist. The face of little Lydia Post, the school teacher, the only one of those who knew, who believed in him.

He had to dash something away from his eyes as he strode on. Late in the afternoon he came to the first outskirts of the town and entered a small road-side dwelling. He could speak no Spanish; the woman with her numerous children clinging to her could speak no English. But she looked at him with generous eyes and made him sit down on the best seat in the poor room. He made a motion of drinking and said appealiugly “Aqua ?” For he had not paused to drink at the last mountain stream, fearing night might overtake him on the way. She brought water quiokly, and when he would have risen, made signs for him to wait, that she might prepare food for him. He drew out the last bit of money left him—less than a dollar, for he had little remaining when he left the steamer at the port—but she waved it away and made him see that she desired no pay. The humble food of the country was very good, he thought. He had had nothing but a biscuit since early morning. He ate the eggs and black beans and tortillas and drank the black coffee that had grown and blossomed out a few miles away as if they were the choicest delicaoies. As he sat eating he wondered what they were doing at home; it was their supper time, and it was a bleak autumn day—a late November day, almost the last of the month. Something rose in his throat, lump like, and he made haste to finish, fearful of breaking down. The woman would take no pay; he thanked her over and over in words that the conld not comprehend, but with looks that she surely read, and continued on his way. But continuing on, he found that this was but a small villag and that there were yet some few miles t> traverse before he came to the oapital. The upland soenery seemed less strange to him now, but for the queer, low houses, with the heavy tile roofs, he could almost have fancied himself back in the States. Only, all at once, the twilight had turned to a marsh gloom and he remembered that he was very far off from home—under the equator —with no place to lay his head. He sat down by the.foadside, utterly exhausted, “I cannot go any further. I’m dead tired,” he murmured exhaustedly. He leaned his head back against a kind of stone wall that seemed to protect property of some sort, possibly a deserted country house. It had been getting chilly since sundown, but the ground was dry. He began to undo his pack to take out the blanket. He spread it ont end dropped his weary head upon it. He eould have fallen asleep at that instant, only that be was startled by the clatter of horse’s hoofs that seemed to ride up his side. “Olal" said a voice, and other words that he could not understand. He sat up and spoke with appealing gestures In the clear starlight. “No speak Spanish; I American.” The rider dismounted. “American, are you?” He spoke with hardly any accent, a tall, fine-looking iolker, not quite middle-aged. “Just arrived? But why do you lie on the ground? It’s not good. You’ll have fever. You're not acclimated.” Cory was on his feet. “This is providential,” he oried. “If you knew sir, how terrible it is to be dumb—unable to ask for anything. I’ve just come up from the port—walked up from the end of the railroad line.” “A pretty long walk. I don’t wonder voufaelit And it’s a goad five miles on

to the dty. I’ve only this one little horse, you see. It won’t carry double or I'd take you along. Who are you, by the way!,' “My name is Dickinson,** said Cory. •‘I suppose I've come dow* here on a soil’s errand. Had e quarrel with my relatives and left in a hurry. Brought no money. Just a dollar left in the world.” Unconsoiously be adopted the short phrases of ths others, as If thus to be more easily comprehended. “Well, you are not the first,” said his new acquaintance. “Some succeed, some don’t. If you only knew a little Spaniah, you see. However, by the way, this Is an old hacienda of mine. There’s a house and you can sleep in it—under shelter, you know. There’s the plank of a bod, that used to be a servant’s. You’ll be safer inside. Come, I’ll take you In. To-morrow come into town and inquire for Julio Vargas Verea; spelt with a J in English and pronounoed like an H, remember. Cory had followed him in with a feeling of unreality. Julio struck a match and showed him ths boards on trestles that should be his bed. “By Jove! there’s s bit of caudle," ha said. “Put your blanket double on the boards and creep into it. Wrap it well around you. You’ll be safe from insects, alacranss and the like. I'm off new. Lock tbe door carefully in the morning and come to town as early as possible. You can take coffee with me if you’re in before eight. Good-night.” Cory locked the door after him and heard him ride away in the calm night; then went back and crept between his blanket folds and blew out the oandle. As he drifted into a first doze he suddenly remembered that this was Thursday—the last Thursday of the month—and therefore it was Thanksgiving Day at home. He wandered if Lydia had thought of him. He hardly believed that she had gone to take Thanksgiving dinner with his aunt, as she had formerly done. She loved him a little—perhaps a good deal —if only as a sister. She wee too loyal for that. Thue he fell asleep and slept steadily, despite his uncomfortable couch and the chill temperature.

Julio Vcrgas Verea was pretty well known in town. A lawyer by profession. with hardly any practice, because he had neglected it; formerly a Legation attache abroad—the husband of a pretty woman and father of several pretty children—a thoroughly honorable fellow with one deplorable passion for gambling at the exciting country cook-fights. Who did not know Julio Verges Verea? Cory found his way to his new friend's bouse without trouble and bad coffes with him as agreed. And Julia Vergae Verea bade him oonsider himself a welcome guest at his house until ha should find work. For Cory was penniless. He would aocept any situation, he said, anything, however humble. Shame and humiliation were his, to find himself helpless, a fellow of twenty-nine. He had supposed a stroug young fellow of that age oould find work in any part of the globe. He bad forgotten the difficulty of a different language. And so for weeks he had a blue time of it. He wanted to go back to the port, where aome English was spoken, but Vargas Verea objected. He wanted to seek employment on the primitive little railway, but Vargas Verea objected. Vargas Verea was the kindest fellow on earth, but over proud. And Cory chafed under his objections. Night after night he lay awake suppressing groans at his helplessness and his tormenting memories. Ob, to have come to this land of eternal sunshine under different circumstances 1 Oh, to have come to this land of eternal sunshine under different circumstances 1 Oh, not to have had to run away from home and friendal But could he have remained there after the accusation of theft? Aud who had been the thief? Who had taken his uucle’a thousand dollars from the open safe on that fatal afternoon when he bad sat reading in the next room and had hardly noticed his uncle passing out into the kitchen for a moment? He had sat in the sitting-room; the safe was in the sitting-room bedroom; one could only enter the bedroom from the sitting-room. His unole had gone into the kitchen—and had left the safe unlocked. Hannah, the servant girl, had let a kettle of soap grease boil over, and for a brief time the kitohen waa almost on fire. Cory, a little lazy, had heard the uproar, and had gone to see whst the trouble was. His uncle, in a fury at the servant’s carelessness, called him a stupid fool and ordered him angrily not to stand gaping there. And Cory, angry in turn, had quickly come back,aeized hie bat from the sitting-room table and left the house. He had not returned very soon. His uncle had seemed to hate him of late. And he had gone off with some young friend* of his to a neighboring town, not venturing back until the next afternoon. Then he had found his uncle in a state of excitement bordering on insanity. The thousand dollars that had been destined for the payment of a mortgage was gone from the safe. It had been taken while Cory’s uncle waa in the kitchen helping extinguish the fire. No one oould have entered the house in that brief space, and no one but Cory, his uncle and his invalid aunt was aware of the presence of the money in the safe. Nothing else had been disturbed. It had been but an instant’s work to extract the package for one who knew it was there and in precisely what spot. And—but for the shock and misery for the invalid auut Cory’s uncle would, he said, have sent an officer after the young rascal, all of which Cory had listened to in a dumbfounded way and then said: “You are either crazy or else you think me capable of stealing. I will never pass another night or eat another crumb under your roof —much less remain in your employ. If you wish to have me arrested go about it quickly and proclaim your inhuman feelings toward a relative to the world. You will be laughed at when the true theif is found. But go about it quickly, lor I am going as far away from you as I possibly can. You can keep my last month’s salary. I won’t touch it.” And, as his uncle was silent and dogged, Cory left the house and presently the town. But before leaving the town he had confided his story to Lydia Post

“It is true,” he said, “that I did go off with the fellows last night, but I took no money to speak of. You believe me, don’t you, Lydia?” “Can you ask?” she said, her voice faltering a little and tears rushing into her soft eyes. All this came back vividly to Cory Dickinson during the weary weeks in which he felt himself so thoroughly “down on his luck.” But at last a chance came. He eeized it with avidity. It was to go out on a new cacao plantation, remote from the capital, sixty mites by land through impassable woods and over dangerous mountain paths, or sixty miles by sea ip a sailboat down the coast and by canoe* up a river of dangerous rapids. '-Julio Yarns Vena shook his head. “I’m alraUjou will die eot these. It-

is away from all civilization. There ! only an Indian settlement and aome negroes. The climate is bad—it is very hot—and there are marsh** just below. It is a four day’s journey at the very best, and mails are a week in coming and going. I’m afraid you will have the fever at onoe.” “I am not afraid,” mid Cory. “I •hall have fever if I stay here, my dear friend. -You are good as gold to me, but I can’t stand idleness. For heaven's sake, let me go.” And so he went Out into the wild* impenetrable, beautiful, silent, tropical wild*. And he went faithfully to work and became happy with a aew hope. He did not take the fever. He got fairly started by the following midsummer. That is, what was midsummer at home, for it waa always midsummer in this new countir. But he had never cessed to reckon by the seasons of the far North. And by midsummer he wrote to Lydia Post. After he had written he counted the days. A week to take the letter to the port. A fortnight more—allowing for delay of the steamer to sail as he bad expected—for it to reach the United State*. In three weeks Lydia would have it. Ia three weeks more he would have her reply. He knew that his fingers would tremble so that he could hardly open it Alas! the six weeks had passed, and yet another and another. And no reply. And as another mouth drifted along and November waa begun, Cory began to give wp hope. Had ehe not received his letter? Had she not cared to reply? Was he lost to her—even to little Lvdla —of whose faith he had dreamed ia darkest hour*? Sadly he realized one evening that it was the 10th of November, just a year since he had left home. A day or two later he fell ill. It was not from tha climate, not from the heat. The plantation was not as deadly as Vargas Varea had believed. But it was the snapping of hie last hope—his hope of Lydia. It was more of a low nervous fever. And he could not rise from his bed any more. And he did not care if death came. There was no dootor near; there were a few simple remedies on the shelve* of his cans hut, but he hardly cared to take them.

One night his fever was higher—much higher—and he raved of Lydia to the Indian woman who sat beside him and the negro servant who liked him well. The next day he was conscious again but very week. He felt as if he oould easily slip away. And he aaked the negro to send to the post a certain letter that was going to the Uuited States, thousands of miles away. Hardly had hs clone giving his few, feeble instructions when tome of ths Indian boys came hurrying in to tell him that a canoe had oome up the river with people, white, tali, and a lady, with many bundle* and other things. A beautiful young lady. Cory wondered vaguely until a shadow fell upon the threshold —and a moment later, as if an angel dawning from heaven, Lydia stood beside him and bent to take him into her arms. “I knew,” she sobbed softly, and in her tears his face felt as cool and refreshed and joy-lighted as a rose in the Summer rain. “I knew that you would be ill. And I would not write—for I was almost ready to fetch you. For I knew you would not come back alone. And I had been working and saving the money for months—and only a few weeks were lacking. So I would not write—but came. And your uncle asks you to forgive and forget. For it was Mason who stole the money—with Hannah’s help. And so you will go back with me.” “Lydia.” he whispered, “how could you come to this plaoe—thousands of miles—through all these dangers—by land and sea and sea and land ? Am I dreaming, Lydia ? Have you come all this wny alone 1 Through all these strange ways ?” “Do you think,” she sobbed, “do you think there is any road too long, too hard for a woman to travel if the one she loves is at the end ?” “No road,” said Cory, softly. “But you knew I loved you—eveu before my letter—and then you knew it again. And you took wings and flew to me. And so we shall go back together, dear, est 1” Another shadow crossed the threshold. Julio Vargas Verea, also on his way to find Cory, having heard of his illness, had met with Lydia at the port and had come with her in a sailboat and canoe. He had discreetly remained outside tha hut until after the meeting of the lovers. Not many days later there was a wedding at the capital. Cory and Lydia were married by the American Minister, and Julio Vargas Verea stood sponsor to the bride. It wasThursday—ana Thanksgiving Day.

They Did Bathe.

Rev. T. E. Bridget, of England, in a recently published historical essay on “Blunders and Forgeries,” takes a good deal of pains to refute the assertion made some years ago by Dr. Lyon Playfair that “for a thousand years there was not a man or woman in Europe that ever took a bath.” Mr. Bridget says that no one, even tolerably acquainted with the literature of mediaeval Europe, can doubt for a moment that the bath was in constant requisition. Among the accounts of Queen Isabella, wife of Edward 11., is an entry of a payment “for repairs of the queen’s bath and gathering of herbs for it.” In a narrative of the arrival of Louis of Burges, created Earl of Winchester in 1472, we find among other comforts provided for him that in the third chamber there “was ordered a Bayne, or ij, whioh were covered with tentes of white olother.” Mr. Dickson, the editor, tells us in the preface to the first volume of the accounts of the lord high treasurer of Sootland, that “bath-rooms were not uncommon in the houses of the great, and even the luxury of bathe in bedrooms was not unknown. The accounts show two payments for broadcloth to cover a ‘bath-fat’—that is, to form a tent-like covering over it.” The Abbe Thiers, in his “Traite des Superstitions,” mentions certain days on which silly people fancied it was wrong to bathe, a notion which would never have arisen had not bathing been a common practice.

A Dog’s Long Fast.

The story comes from Camilla that John Joiner and several othera were out hunting some time ago, when Mr. Joiner's dog fell into an old well. It was not known at the time where the dog waa and no hunt was made for him, Mr. Joiner thinking he would oome home in a short time. Eighteen days after the dog was lost Mr. Joiner was out hunting again and heard his dog howl. At first it was hard to locate the sound, but the dog was finally discovered in an old dry well, where he had been for eighteen day* without food or water. The dog was drawn to the surface and is now as well a* evee.—-(Atlanta Ceaetitatiaa.

THE JOKERS’ BUDGET.

JESTS AND TARNS BT TUNNY URN OF THE PRESS. Deceptive A Steading Literature— Aa Eye for Bar galas—A Stomach Aeb* la Sight, Etc , Etc. DECEPTIVE. Visitor—Hark 1 That must be another railroad collision I Host—Oh, no. That’s Charlie’s college club in the barn practicing a new A STANDING IE LITERATURE. “What can you show byway of evidence that you are an author?” “I’ve got the writer’s cramp, and the doctors all say so. AH EVE FOE BABOAISS. Father—ls that young girl you are going to marry economical? Bon (enthusiastically)—l should say sol Why last year she spent $2,500 in bargains.—[Chicago Record. A STOMACH ACHE IN BIOHT. “Tommy," aaid the teacher, “do you know what the word ‘foresight’ means?” “Yee'm.” “Can you give me an illustration!” “Yea’m.” “You may do so.” “Last night my mamma told the doctor he might as well call around and see me Thanksgiving night.”—[Washington Star. OKI REPLACES THE OTHER. Mias Manhattan (maliciously)—You must miss the dear old London fogs very much.” Lord Tuffnot (loftily)— I do. But I am partially compensated by your charming New York mnd.—Vogue. PROOP OP IT. He (fervently)—Dearest, do you love me to much that you would rather ke miserable with me, if you had to choose, than happy with any other man? She—Why, darling, haven’t I said that I would marry you?—[Vogue. AND HOW THET DO SFEAx! The schools of oratory don’t teach any eloquenoe that surpasses that of a couple of dumb and silent chairs sometimes, when pa goes into the parlor the morning after John has made an evening call.— [Somerville Journal. CAPABLE SUBSTITUTES. “You don’t have monarchs in this country,” said the foreigner, musingly. “Not by that name,” replied the native. “We have servant girls, however.”—[Judge. NOT AN ADMIRES OP IT. Park Rowe—What d’ye think of the suit? Election bet, you know! Hoffman Howes—That’s too bad! How long do you have to wear it? PRUOAL.

“I am sorry to tell you,” said the editor* “that we cannot use your poem.” “Indeed?” “To be candid with you, it is clumsy in sentiment and faulty in construction. The rhymes are all wrong, and altogether it is not even decent doggerel.” Here the editor paused for breath and the poet said meekly: ‘*Give it baek to me, please.” “I don’t think you can do anything with it” “Oh, yes, I can. “I’ll have it set to musio and makes popular song of it.”—[Washington Star. WASTED SOLICITUDE. “Now, dear,” said the thoughtful wife, “you will be oareful not to get your feet wet, won’t you?” “Humph 1” replid the dyspeptic husband, “that’s the way with you women. That shows just about bow much consideration you have for a man. I suppose you’d be satisfied to see me break my neck trying to walk down to my office on my hands, wouldn’t you?’”—Washington Star. A COMPARATIVE ESTIMATE OP HIMSELF. “Reginald,” said the youfig man’s father, “you couldn’t earn your salt.” “Oh, yes, I oould, fathah,” he replied, complacently, and, after some thought, he added, “but I might have to fallback on you foh the peppah.”—[Washington Star. MARRIAGE WITHOUT MOTIVE. Mistress—So you are going to leave my service? Now, what motive impels you to go away? Servant—lt’s no motive, madame; it’s a soldier I—[Paris Gauloia. HAD ENOUGH. Judge—Why didn’t you call a policeman when the man assaulted you with a club? Citizen Call a policeman 1 Good heavens 1 Your Honor, wasn’t I thumped enough as it was?—[New York Herald. AN EXCEPTION. “Are you going to —to wear that big hat to the theatre?” the young man asked. “Yes, George.” And after a silence, she added, “But I am going to take it off when we get inside.” And that is what confirmed George’s suspicions that she is an angel.—Washington Star. WHAT HE RETAINED. “I was in a railroad accident once,’’ said the man in the s moker to a group of listeners, “and had both legs and both arms broken.” “Did you retain your presence of mind?” inquired one of the listener*. “No.” “No! What did you do?” “I retained a lawyer and got SIO,OOO damage.”—[Detroit Free Press. LIMITATIONS OP MATRIMONY. Little Boy—What is your papa? Little Girl—He’s a literary man. “What’s that?” (ifTfa writfiß “What does he-write?” “Oh, he writes most everything ’cept checks.” —[Good Nows. A LITERAL TROTH. “I think your figures are pretty high,’’ said the lady who waa pricing feather beds and pillows. “Madam,” said the clerk, with a scracely percepitible twinkle in his eye. “all our best goods are marked down.”— New York Press. GENIUS APPRECIATED. “Bay,” said the business man to the detective, “some fellow has been running around through the country representing himself as a collector of ours. He has been taking in more money than any two of the men we have, and I want him collared aa quick a* you can.” “All right. I’ll have him in jail in less than a week.” “Great Scott, man II don’t want to put him in jail. I want to hire him.'*— [lndianapolis Journal. WON BT A PLANK MOTMMBXT. “I’m not going to ask far money, mam,” said Bhedealdn, “aer far foed,

though rm feint with hunger and I ain’t M t anything for two days, but for tha of • poor man who'* in hard inch, won't too, please, mom, allow me the loan of a piece of eoap and a towel for a few minotM?” It wm about one hoar later that Rhodeside finished a sumptuous meal and set forth with a fifty-cent .piece in his hand. —{Chicago Record. "**• « SOU THAN HALF BACK. Friend—Your son played football at college, I am told. Fond Mamma—Yes. Friend—Quarterback? Fond Mamme-Oh,he’s nearly all back. He lost only an ear and a hand. —Puck. THIS WALL ITOULDH’T TELL “Sh-h-h I” said the tragedian, “the rery walls hare ears!” “Sore, ’’answered the low oomedian, glancing np hastily, “ but this is a dead wall.” And the orchestra burst forth with a chord in Q.—lndianapolis Journal. IN THE CONSDLTIHa-aOOM. ijfiJ . Doctor—“ You look rather excited. For some time to eome you had better not exert yourself too much. For instance, you must not—what is your profession!” Patient— * ‘Anarchist. ” Doctor—“He must not throw bombs, do you hear ?”—[II Caffaro, THE TEST OF IFFICACT. “I don’t see how your medicines can be mnoh good, doctor.” “Why not, Freddy!” “They don’t taste nearly so bad as Dr. Brown’s used to.”—[Judge. AN IMPORTANT ONE. Professor in history fin the young ladies seminary)—“Haring finished the sad story of this episode in the life of Marie Antoinette, I should be glad to answer any questions you may feel inclined to ask.” The class (in unison) —“What did she have on ?’’—[Chioago Record. ONE CERTAINTY. Tom—“ Have you read‘Two Men and a Girl’! What do you think of it!” Kitty—‘‘No; but I think the girl must have had a good time”—[Puck.

Fighting Moles.

If two male moles meet in attendance on the same lady of their choice, they soon pick a quarrel, with the quip gallant or the retort oourteous, ana proceed to fight it out with desperate resolution. Their duel is a outrance. Just at first, to be sure, they carry on the war underground ; but as soon as they have begun to taste blood, they lose all control of themselves, and adjourn for further hostilities to the open meadow. Indeed, it is seldom that you can see them emerge from their subterranean “tud,” except when seriously ill, or engaged in settling these little affairs of honor. Once arrived upon the battlefield, they go at it literally tooth and nail, and never cease till one or the other has disabled his adversary. Then comes the most painful scene of all, which only regard for historical accuraoy induces me to chronicle. As a faithful historian, however, I oannot conceal the fact that the victor male falls bodily in his triumph upon his fallen antagonist, tears him open on the spot, and drinks his warm blood as some consolation to his wounded feelings. The sense of chivalry and of the decencies of war has been denied to these brave and otherwise respectable insectivores.— [The Million.

Sentiment and Chicken.

A man I knew kept fowls for the table—pure Dorkings. As they grew plumper every day he would take a basket with food in it, scatter it among them and sigh deeply. After a few days of this, with a mournful countenance, he would give the orders for a couple to be E laced in a fattening coop; then, when e had satisfied himself that they were just right, he would send for a man to wring their necks, giving him a shilling for tbe job, and while the deed was being done he would go off an a long walk. . His wife and daughters were as tenderhearted as he was. It ran in the family. Yet the servants always notioed that, whatever they might est nr leave on the dinner-table, they invariably finished up the fowls. This was, possibly, on the same principle as actuated one of the kings ot the Cannibal Islands, who ate bis grandfather out of respect.—Macmillan’s Magazine.

The Origin of Starching.

The course of history carries us back no further than the year 1654 for the origin of starching in London. It wai in that year that Mistress Van der Plasse came with her husband from Flanders to the English metropolis “for their greater safety,” and there professed herself a starcber. The best housewives of the time were not long in discovering the excellent whiteness of the “Dutch linen,” as it was called, and Mistress Plasse soon had plenty of good paying clients. Some of these began to send her ruffs of lawn to starch, which she did so excellently well that it became a saying that if anyone sent her a ruff made of a spider’s web she would be able to starch it. So greatly did her reputation grow that fashionable dames went to her to learn the art and mystery of starching, for which they gladly paid a premium of £4 to £5, and for the secret of seething starch they paid gladly a further sum of twenty shillings.

Materials of Paper.

Paper can be manufactured out of almost anything that oan be pounded into pulp. Over fifty kinds of bark are said to be used, and banana skins, bean stalks, pea vines, cocoanut fibre, clover and timothy hay, straw, sea and fresh water weeds and many kinds of grass are applicable. It has also been made from hair, fur and wool, from asbestos, which furnishes an article indestructible by fire, from hop plants, from husks of any and every kind of grain. Leaves make a good strong paper, while the husks and stems of Indian corn have also been tried, and almost every kind of moss can be made into paper * There are patents for making paper from sawdust and shavings, from thistles and thistledown, from tobacco stalks and tanbark. It is said that there are over 2,000 patents in this country covering the manufacture of paper. /

The Chinese Navy Worthless .

It is stated at Shanghai, “on excellent authority,” that the real reason why none of the Chinese squadron went to Bangkok, was that it was found there one of the squadron prepared for such s voyage without refitting, the internal condition of the ironclads and cruisezs of China’s naty k*i»* ruj imperfect—[London Mows.

SOMEWHAT STRANGE.

ACCIDENTS AND INCIDENTS OF EVERYDAY LIVE. Queer Facte and Thrilling Adventure* which Show That Truth la Stranger Than Fiction. Da. Plateau, of London, recently received a fee of $12,000 for attending a royal patient. A Boston lady beat this. She once paid an English physician $25,000 for hu services. A Danish author told Dr. Felix Oaward of the case of a relative, a kleptomaniac, who would steal from himself. He used to tiptoe into his own pantry and make off with uncooked prunes, raw onions, or anything of the kind. In splitting open s log at Middlesborough, Ky., workmen discovered a darkbrown spherical mass, which proved to he a toad. It was at first perfectly lifeless, but upon coming in oontaot with the air showed signs of life and soon began to hop. On a recant Sunday, for the first time in many years, the water of the Delaware Bay was nearly as fresh as the water of a mountain stream. This condition of affairs was brought about by a strong northeast wind that blew continuously daring the week. A Hindoo baby is named when it ia twelve daya old and usually by the mother. Sometimes the father wiahee for another name than that selected by the mother. In that case two lampe are placed over the two names, and the name over which the lamp burns tha brightest is the one given to the child. Thirty-five years ago a rich fanner died at Ridgeway, Pa., first telling his heirs that they’d find $35,000 in the attio. But they didn’t, though they doubtless looked. Recently the house was sold to Andrew Benner, who found $7,000 of the money and told about it. The farmer’s daughter ia still living, and brought suit to reoover.

It is a Parisian ne who has taken the cake at shoplifting. She was accompanied by a nurse carrying a baby—a very convenient baby that never cried, not even when its hollow pasteboard body waa stuffed uncomfortably full of laoea and jewels, acquired without money and without price, until the day of reckoning that somehow never fails came at last. The town of Hart, Ga., boasts a notable specimen of the albino negro. The man waa once pure black, but for years his akin has been changing until now he ia white all over with the exception of a few dark spots. Not only is he white but much whiter than most white men, his changed skin being a clear, milky whiteness. The transformation has been natural and unattended by any pain or inconvenience. Among the Welsh “bidding weddings” were formerly the oustom, the bride and groom sending out noticea to all their friends announcing the wedding and soliciting presents. All married persons to whom either made a present on the wedding occasion are expected to return an article of the same kind and value, and the “bidding paper” promisee that new gifts shall be faithfully recorded and scrupulously returned when the donors are themselves married. The latest instance of crime bringing Its own punishment comes, on the authority of Dr. Leonard Guthrie, from Italy. An Italian woman had a husband, and the husband had the dropsy. But the dropsy did not work quickly enough. The woman put a toad into her husband’s wine to poison him. But the poison whioh the toad’s skin secretes has an active prinoiple—phrynin —which much resembles digitalis, which is the best possible remedy for dropsy pending on heart disease. So, instead of killing her husband, she restored him to health. A curious example of how sharply the edge of a windstorm may be defined is reported by the captain of the bark Peter Tredell, whioh recently arrived at San Diego from London. When off Valparaiso, the captain says, a whirlwind came along and passed over the stern of the vessel. A great sea accompanied the wind, and every sail and movable thing on the after part of the ship was carried away. The forward part of the vessel was untouched by the storm, which passed away in the distance, leaving a train of foam in its wake. An interesting discussion has sprung up among the palmists in regard to the line of the hand known as the marriage line. One recognized authority says that when this line curves upward the possessor is not likely to marry at all. Other experts reply that they know many married and happy people with such a line. It is also alleged that the traverse line on the “hill of Meroury,” which one party aays ia the marriage line, is not so considered by the Chirologioal Society. “Our opinion,” says.the editor of the party organ, “is that these lines are signs of attachment, and there is scarcely a hand ever seen without at least one in the hand of either married or unmarried people,” Two shocking cases of miscarriage of justice are reported, one from France and the other from Germany. In France a woman has just been released after sixteen years’ imprisonment on the discovery that she is entirely innocent of the death of her husband and of her brother-in-law, with the responsibility for which she had been charged; while in Germany a cashier of the ministry of finance, who was in the penitentiary for having embezzled a sum of 5,000 marks, has been liberated after twelve years’incarceration on it being brought to light that there had been no money stolen and th,at the apparent discrepancy had been due to a mistake on the part of the auditors. In neither case will the victim have any redress, as the law does not provide for any such judicial errors. Among many quaint customs which are gradually disappearing is the so-called “Lion Sermon,” whioh, after having been annually preached in the Church of St. Catherine, in the oity of London, for nearly three centuries, has just been abolished. It owes its origin to an adventure which befell a mediaeval Lord Mayor of London, Sir Richard Guyer. According to the legend, being attacked by a lion while traveling with a caravan in Arabia, he fell upon his knees and vowed to devote his life to charity if spared from the lion’s jaws. The animal is stated to have thereupon turned tail.;, and in pursuance of the vow thus made, 1 the “Lion Sermon” has been regularly preached ever since. An ancient ceremony was revived qn the occasion of the procession of judges,, when ,the Michaelmas term was opeuwer at the law courts in London. It was the carrying of an exquisitely chased silver oar, some three feet long, before the president of the Admiralty Court; and as soon as ha had taken his seat on the bench the oar waa lal* **» the table la

front of him, much in the same manner as the mace of the House of Commons is laid ia froot of the speaker. This silver oar dates back to the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when it was first used as a table ornament at the dinner given by the Middle Temple to Admiral Sir Francis Drake on ku return from the Spanish mete. Ax amusing impromptu addition to the performances or the Royal Aquarium Theatre of London occurred the other night. In the play a ghost comes an aad frightens one of the characters, who rushes wildly about calling for help. A troupe of educated dogs, which were awaiting their turn to perform, became so excited by the noise that they rushed on the stage, headed by the gallant Bruoe. They immediately made for the astonished ghost, who jumped upon a table in the centre of the stage, and, there surrounded by the pack, implored somebody to call off the dogs. Never, probably, has a spectre so entirely lost big dignity, while the audieuoe was so convulsed that it was some time after the animals were removed before the performance could proceed.

A report from Butte, Mont., says that when Mr. McConvllle,of that place,killed a chicken for dinner recently he found its crop and gizzard full of gold nuggets. He immediately killed all his other chickens and found in tbe thirty-one crops and gizzards $387.55 worth of gold 18 karats fine, sn average of $12.50-1-6 per chicken. Mr. MoConviile is not willing to abate even the sixth of a cent from (he story, as it amounts to a good deal from a number of chickens. He at once bought fifty more chickens and put them in his gold pasture, and in four days’ time one of them showed sa accumulation of $2.80 worth of gold, or 70 cents a day. Mr. MoConviile proposes, to buy all the ohickens he can find and set them to work, expecting soon to accumulate a large property. A queer story, and one which readers would do well to thoroughly salt (give it more than the proverbial grain) before swallowing, comes with first-class recommendation all the way from England. Thirty-three years ago, in 1860, a member of the Chaplin family died at Blankney, Lincolnshire, and was laid in the family tomb. This particular Chaplin was a naturalist, and among his other pets had a large gray bat. That bat was permitted to enter the tomb and was sealed up alive along with the corpse of his dead master. In 1866 the vault was opened, and to the surprise of all the bat was alive and fat. Od four different occasions since the Chaplins have looked after the welfare of their dead relative’s pet, and each time it has been reported that the bat was still in the land of the living, although occupying quarters with the deed. He was last seen in 1892. On November 17, Alexander Hockaday, residing in Spencer township, Harrison County, Ind., about twenty-five miles west of New Albany, celebrated the one hundred and fourteenth anniversary of his birth. He was born in Virginia, November 17, 1779, the date, it is claimed, being authenticated by a record of a family Bible, now in the old man’s possession. When quite young he came to Kentucky with his parents, but removed to Indiana when that State was a part of tbe great Northwestern Territory. Seventy years ago he removed to his farm in Harrison County, on which he now resides, and has livsd there continuously since that time. His wife is still living, at the age of eighty-six years, and is sufficiently active to perform many of the household duties. Mr. Hockaday still retains his mental faculties utmost unimpaired, and is wonderfully native for his years. He says that he has voted at every Presidential election sinoe 1800, a period of ninety-three years. The old man seems to suffer no abatement of strength, and bids fair to live many years more. The British ship Lanark arrived in port two days ago, says the Philadelphia Press. Yesterdav the physician from the British consulate went aboard to examine the crew. Three-fourths are Lascars, shipped in Bombay. The doctor found six suffering from heart affection and two from other diseases. The last two were in a serious condition. The doctor, through an interpreter, told one he must be removed to a hospital. The crew gathered around the physician and uttered furious protests. The sick man said he would die rather than leavo the ship and his countrymen. A-Lasoar eats nothing but food prepared by a countryman; a Christian touching it would cause contamination, and anyone partaking of it after this defilement loses caste. This waa why the sick man preferred death to leaving the vessel. He consented to go only after the doctor had solemnly promised that he should have food prepared by one of the crew, and be permitted to leap, whether sick or well, when his ship cleared this port. Then he and the other sick man, who is an Egyptian, were taken to the MedicoChirurgical hospital. Not another Lascar comd be induced to leave the ship. They have their own cook, who mixes the food on a square stone, mashes and boils it. Rice, tea, currie, and water form the main part of their diet. Under an agreement between the Indian Steam* ship association and the British government better care is taken of the Indian than of the English sailors. The Lascars ship under special and separate articles, which provides the kind of food they are to have, permit to worship as they please, and stipulate warmer clothing apd plenty of it in cold climates. Little meat is eaten, for only those of a certain caste are allowed to indulge. The Lascars on the Banark are Buddhists and Mussulmans.

She Spoke Without a Tongue

One of the most remarkable cases on record was that of a woman, well authenticated at the beginning of the last century, who had no tongue, and yet spoke with perfect clearness. She was brought to Lisbon, in Spain, by Count d’Ericeya, from Monsary, in the Territory of Elvaa, Portugal, and the following acoount is given of her by an eminent divine: “She is 17 years old, but does not look more than 7. She can pronounce distinctly every letter in the alphatiet. She has not tbe least bit of a tongue, but the teeth in both sldfeS of her under jaw turn very much inward and almost meet. Her chief difficulty is in eating, for while others move their food with their tongue, she is forced to use her finger. She says that she tastes well. Her voice, though very distinct, is a little hollow and like that of old people wife have lost their teeth.”—[Detroit Free Press.

A Queer Alligator.

I An exchange announces that an alligator 8 feet 2 inches in length and weighing 2so pounds was caught in the Imssisnippi off the lerae at Bt. Louis a few daya~i|g<>.” pome of its teeth were ssid to be more than 2 inches long and like the teeth of • abash. Thin alligator was probably an alligator gar.