Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 September 1895 — Page 5

A GOLDEN DREAM

BY GEO-M-FENN.

CHAPTER I. “Help’ Help!" “Call louder, Nousie. There is no one to hear.” But all the same, the speaker, as he seized a handsome mulatto girl round the waist, clapped his hand over her lips and pressed it there in spite of her struggles. “You foolish girl!” he whispered; “the women have gone down to the'tpwn to see what is going on. Why do you treat me like this?” “How dare you!” cried the girl, wrenching her head free. “My husband shall “Be silent, you silly little bird. You know 1 loved you long before he ever spoke to you, and that I love you now more than ever.” “Mr. Saintone, it is an insult. Help! Help!” There was a quick short struggle in the creeper-hung verandah. A little worktable was overturned, and, flushed and excited, the girl wrested herself free, and darted through the open door into the shadowy inner room of the cottage, closely pursued by her assailant; but, before he could fling his arms round her again, she had caught a sleeping child from the cradle in which it lay, and held it before her as a shield, while she stood panting, the blood coloring her creamy cheeks, and her full lips drawn back from her white teeth—at bay. “Yes, you look handsomer than ever now, Nousie,” said her assailant, a handsome man of five and thirty, with but a very slight crispness in his black hair to tell of a faint mingling of another blood in his veins. “But this is acting. How can you be so foolish? Come, listen to reason.”

The girl’s handsome dark eyes flashed as she drew back, pressing the child more closely to her breast, and watching every ■act of her assailant, lest he should take her unawares. “I shall tell my husband everything when he comes back,” she panted. “What will he say to his friend when he knows. What have I ever done that you should treat me so?” She burst into a passion of tears, sobbing violently. “Hush, you foolish woman,” he whispered; and he looked sharply toward the -door. “Yes. he will come soon, and I will tell him all.” “No, you will qot, dear. If you told him, he would come to me, and I should -shoot him.” The girl's jaw dropped, and she gazed at the speaker wildly. “Yes,” he said, seeing his advantage, “I should shoot him. I never miss. Tell him, Nousie. He is in my way.” The girl grew a deep, sobbing breath, and gazed at the speaker as if fascinated, And he saw it and laughed. “There!” he said, “I am going now. Next time I come you will be more sensible and ” “Ah!” cried the girl, joyously. “George —George. He is coming.” She darted to the door with the child dn her arms, passed through from the cool darkness into the hot sunshine, and he saw her dart in and out among the great vivid green leaves of the bananas, and out into the road, down which she hurried toward, where, a quarter of a mile away, a white figure could be seen approaching. Jules Saintone stood in the doorway for a few moments watching the hurrying figure of the girl, with her white muslin dress fluttering in the breeze off the -sea. “No; she will not tell him,” he said, through his compressed teeth. “She will not dare.” Thfen passing into the broad verandah he bent down and hurried to the end, passed out into the lovely, half-natifral garden, and made his way to the shelter •of the edge of the forest behind, among whose heavily foliaged branches he disappeared. By this time the girl was some distance Along the road, hurrying ■on with her drowsy child clasped close to her heaving bosom, her lips parted and her eyes Attained toward the approaching figure. “Oh, George, George,” she panted, "“make haste, make haste!” Then a cold shiver ran through her and she checked her headlong pace. “He said he would shoot him.” She nearly stopped, for her brain reeled as she recalled different bloody affrays which had taken place in their unhappy island, where the hate of race was sufficient cause for the frequent use of pistols or knife, and the laws were so lax that the offender was rarely brought to justice. “And he would kill him if I told,” she aaid despairingly, as she gazed wildly at the approaching figure, which waved a hand to her and then took off his straw hat and waved that. “And we were so happy,” she added after a pause, as she walked slowly on mow, trying to recover her breath and quell the agitation which made her tremble in -every limb. “Oh, if I only dared!” she panted, as a flash of rage darted from her dark eyes. “If I went to the papaloi and asked him, he would be stricken and would die.” “No, no, no," she cried, as she strained the child to her breast; “they would poison him, and it is too horrible. I—l must not speak.” The figure was fast approaching, now ■standing out clear in the dazzling tropic apnshine, now half hidden by the dark shadow of the heavy leafage which hung ■over the road, till with a sigh of relief, as a strong arm was passed round her Supple waist, the girl let herself rest upon the support, and her troubled face grew calm as that of one who has found sanctuary at last. “My darling! Impatient? Have I been eo long?” “Yes, yes; so long, George—so long,” “But—why you are overdone with the heat and carrying that child. You foolish little thing to come out in this roasting sun.” She looked at him wildly. “No, no, no,” he cried, kissing her fondly. “I’m not cross, little one, but yon should not have come to meet me. And then to bring the poor pet. Ah!” he cried, as he tenderly took the sleeping child from her arms, and kissed its closed eyelids and tiny pouting lips in a way that sent a thrill of joy through its mother. “Why, Nousie, darling, were you afraid the Vaudoux people would come and steal it for their next feast?” . “Hush!” she whispered excitedly, and

with a look of horror she gazed wildly round into the dark shadows of the forest, at whose edge their cottage stood. “Bah! little coward!” he said, smiling, as he passed his arm about his wife again, and they walked gently back, taking advantage of every bit of shade. “But, Nousie, dear, I must talk seriously to you about that.” “Not about the Vaudoux people, George," she said hurriedly. “Yes, dear; about the Vaudoux. My little wife must wean herself from all those beliefs.” Nousie hung more heavily on her husband’s arm, and the tears filled her dark eyes as she shook her head slowly, and despondency seemed to be clouding her soft creamy face. “Why, Nousie,” cried the man, a sunburnt French colonist, who years before had left gay Paris to try his fortune in Hayti, “you would not like our darling, my tiny dawn of a bright day, my precious Aube, to learn all their horrid fetish rites and degrading superstitions.” “Oh, no, no, no,” cried the girl excitedly. “Then why not forget them yourself? Can you not see, dearest, that this is the savage religion of the African, brought over here by the wretched slaves?” The color began to appear once more in the girl’s pallid cheeks, and she turned her eyes to his reproachfully. They were hidden among the trees, though at that hour not a soul was in sight; white, and indolent black, in the scattered dwellings were asleep, and he drew her closer to him, and kissed her tenderly. “Don’t look like that pet,” he said. “You don’t suppose it was meant for a reproach to you for what you cannot help? What is it to us? We love, and you might blame me because my ancestors were French. But promise me you will try and forget all that.” “I will try,” said Nousie, fixing her eyes on those of her husband with a look of yearning love. “But it is so hard, George. My grandmother used to believe so much, and she taught me, and she used to tell me that if I dared to forget them the people and the priests had such power—they were everywhere—and that if I forsook them I should die. And I could not die now and leave you.” He drew her to him again, and they walked more slowly as he looked from the sweet dreamy eyes, fixed so earnestly on. his, to the sleping child and back. “No darling, and you shall not die,” he said, half pitying her. “There, some day your faith in all the horrible old superstitions will grow weaker, and you will see the truth of all I say." “I do now, dearest,” she whispered, “for you are so wise and learned and good. I want to forget it all, but it is so hard, and it seems like a cloud over me sometimes, and fills me with fear for you and our little one.” “It is like a cloud over this beautiful unhappy land, Nousie,” cried the man, drawing himself up. “It is a curse to the country, and it is so hard to see peace. Oh, my wife,” he continued excitedly; “here is a land, blessed by the Creator with everything that should make it a paradise for man, but man curses it with his jealousies and passions till it is a perfect hell. Black against white—white against black, and the colored people hating both. And as if this was not enough, here is all this revolutionary trouble, and I do not know which side to take—which to help into peace to save the land.” “Side—help!” cried Nousie wildly. “You —you will not go and fight?" He gazed at her fondly for a few moments as they stood fast beneath the broad spreading leaves of a dwarf palm, “Fight?” he said sadly. “If I could help it, no, Nousie, darling. I came out here to seek a place where all would be peace, where I could have my home, and win land from savage nature to give me the richest fruits of the earth. I have done this, and I have my home made beautiful with the voice of the sweetest, truest woman upon earth, with our little one here; but it is of no use to hide it from you—there are great troubles coming again. We shall have bloodshed till one party has full power. Callet is the man I believe, but black La Grasse is making head, and he is not a bad fellow, he wishes well to the place. I hesitate sometimes which side to take.” “No, no, no,” cried Nousie passionately. “You shall not fight; they would kill you.” “No, not so bad as that,” said George Dulau, smiling. “But join one side I must, darling. Every man among us must make a stand for his position in the land.” A piteous sigh escaped from the girl’s breast. “Yes,” continued Dulau, “it is hard, love, but it is one’s fate. Harder, too, now, when I have you and the little one. There, don’t think of the coming troubles while we have the present. Look at her, how delicate and white she is,” he continued, as he gazed down fondly at the sleeping child. “Is she not beautiful, Nousie?—Venousie—Venus.” He laughed gently. “As beautiful as you are. They might well call you Venus.” “Don't.” said the girl' reproachfully, “you make me think you are mocking. I am not beautiful.” “No?” he said tenderly. “Then tell me our darling is not.” “Oh, no,” cried the girl ecstatically. “She is beautiful —and she is white.” “Yes, said Dulau fondly, “pale and beautiful and rosy as the dawn. Nousie, we will have no other name for her. She shall be Aube—the dawn, our darling, and some day she shall go to Paris. We will make a lady of her, Nousie. There, come along, I am tired with a morning’s talk.” “Yes, tell me,” cried Nousie. “What has been done—what has been said?” “Impossible! One voice drowned another. But the people are all for fighting, Nousie, I cannot conceal it from you. It must come.” They walked on in silence for a few moments, and then Dulau said gravely: “Let me see, it is ten years since I landed in Port au Prince, and there was a revolution. In those ten years there have been two more, and now we are on the brink of another. Saintone says I must stand for him and his party, and I am afraid I must—what is the matter?” The young wife had started violently, and her face was full of agitation consequent upon his mention of the name of his friend, one of the wealthiest Creole planters and merchants of the port “Matter?” she faltered, turning pale. “My darling,” he whispered, “I ought

not to have talked about it to you.** “Yee, yes; I Biust know all,” she cried wildly. “But George, dearest, if —if you must fight—don’t—don’t ” She stopped short, gazing at him with parted lips. “If I must fight—don’t,” he said, laughingly repeating her words. “Don’t —don’t take sides with Saiutone,” she cried desperately. “Eh? Not with the best friend I have in the world ?” “No, no,” she cried, clutching him by the breast as they stood now in the shade of their broad verandah. “He is not your friend—he hates you. Don’t trust him—don’t join with him—he—he ” “Why, Nonsie, darling, you are quite feverish and wild,” said Dulau wonderingly, as he laid his hand upon her burning forehead. “Come indoors, and let’s lay Aube down. She will be cooler. Ixwk at the little pearls all over her white forehead. There, little one,” he said, as he bent down and kissed the child, walking the while Into the shadowed room, where he laid the sleeping babe in its cradle, his wife following him with her hands clasped, and her teeth set for fear she should say more —tell her husband and risk his life. He turned to her smilingly, and stopped short, startled by her set countenace. “Why, Nousie, dear,” he said, catching her in his arms, “you are not going to be ill?” “Ill? No, no,” she said, shuddering as she closed her eyes. “But you are so strange. Why have you taken such a sudden dislike to Saintone? By the way, he was not at the meeting. I must go and see him as soon as it grows cool. But ” He looked round wonderingly. His eyes had caught sight of the overturned worktable, then of a chair lying on its side, and a curtain half dragged down from the rings which held it above the window. He gazed wildly at his wife, and a strange pallor came into his cheeks; while the girl’s eyes were wide open now, and staring at him, with a faintly-seen opal ring about the pupils. The volcanic passion of the Gaul burned in the man’s eyes, as thought after thought flashed through his brain, and he caught her clasped hands in his. “Nousie!” he cried, hoarsely, “tell me—what has happened—speak—what does all this mean?” The white circle between her eyelids grew larger as she gazed at him wildly. “Tell me —why do you not answer?” he cried. Her lips moved, but no words came. “Ah!” he cried, excitedly, “you were flushed and excited—you had been weeping. Nousie, wife—why do you not speak?” “I—dare not,” she faltered at last. “What! Have some of the Vaudoux people been here?” She shook her head. “Then tell me. What has happened?” “I —I dare not,” sjie moaned, and she sank upon her knees before him as he held her bands. “You —you dare not?” he cried, fiercely. “This instant—why not?” “He—§aid he would kill you if I did.” “What? Who—who said that?” roared Dulau furiously. "No, no—don’t nsk me,” she cried, and she would have grovelled at his feet, but he dragged her up and held her tightly, one arm about her waist, the other upon her brow, forcing her head back as he seemed to plunge his gaze into hers in search of the truth. (To be continued.)

NO ABORIGINAL WILD HORSES.

Descended from Domesticated European Horses. Is there such a thing as the wild, horse, an aboriginal or truly wild horse, In the world now? The answer Is more than doubtful. The mustang of Mexico, the wild horse of the South American pampas, the brumbi of Australia, all are descendants of the domesticated animals introduced from Europe. The first horse was landed In America at Buenos Ayres in 1537. In 1580—that is, in less than fifty years —horses had spread in regions as remote as Patagonia. In Australia the diffusion of horses that have escaped from civilization has been quite as rapid, and in 1875 it was found necessary to shoot as many as 7,000 wild horses in the colony of New South Wales alone. In some parts of Australia the horse pest has received legislative notice. The wild horses tempt domestic horses to join them, and wild stallions also invade the Australian horse runs and vitiate choice herds in a most annoying manner. They recur to the ancestral manners in a way that Is always the same. Each stallion has his following of mares, ranging from a few up to forty and even fifty, and these parties may be separate or banded together in herds of considerable size, even, it is said, 400 strong. The young and the weak mares remain with a scanty or even no following. The stallion has to maintain his supremacy by frequent combats, which especially occur at certain seasons of the year. Ths animals are suspicious in the extreme, swift in flight, but bold in defense with tooth and heel in emergency. They range extensively in search of pasture and water, and when hard pressed by danger and famine the herds break up. It is said that each troop has a leader and implicitly obeys him. He is the first to face danger and give the hint to fly. When pressed the horses form a ring, with the mares and foals In the center, and defend themselves vigorously with their heels, or they close in on their opponent in dense masses and trample him to death. It is distinctly proven, then, that there can be no original or wild horse in either America or Australia, although there are tens of thousands of unknown horses., Tradition points to Central Asia as the original abode of the horse, and there, the original stock of wild horses may still possibly exist Darwin’s statement that no aboriginal or truly wild horse is known to exist must still be held as explaining the exs act position of this question. But we must supplement it by stating that it is not certain that truly wild horses do not exist; and, on the whole, conclude that the evidence is in favor of the existence of the wild horse in Central Asia, but that we have no evidence as to his pedigree In relation to domestication. The wild horse of the British Islands is now practically the Shetland pony, but he is not the powerful animal described by Caesar. The domesticated animal everywhere, however, reverts very easily to the savage state. The paces of a wild horse are a walk and a gallop. The double and the canter are artificial, and it is still a mooted question as to whether the wild horse ever trots.—From a paper read before the Bombay Historical Society. There are some people who give with the air of refusal.—Queen Christiana.

MAKING A BICYCLE.

AN INTRICATE AND COSTLY PROCESS Five Hundred Parts in a Wheel. Bicyclo manufacturing depends for its success chiefly upon skilled labor. When you skim along lightly and rapidly on your wheel you are apt to think that it is the strength es the component parts that enables you to do this. The strength of the parts is one element, the putting of them together is a far more important element, and one that requires the greatest skill. The price of a wheel in every instance represents the amount of skilled labor in its construction. The materials themselves cost but little. Probably sls to 120 will represent the cost of material. The rest is labor. So when you buy a high-grade wheel you buy the best that intelligent artisanship can produce. There are but few, or possibly a dozen, high-grade wheels made. The cheaper grades are legion . The various parts of the bicycle must be absolutely perfect and capable of standing exactly their proportion of the whole strain. They must be adjusted with the nicety of a watch in order to get the most out of them. There are 500 parts in a bicycle, counting each spoke separately and the 150 and odd miniature steel balls in the bearings. The rivets of the chain, the links, nuts and bolts number 138 separate pieces. The old saying of a chain being only as strong as its weakest link holds good in the bicycle. The chain is naturally a most important feature, ranking in importance with the tire and the rims. The frame and most of the metal parts of a bicycle of the high grade are made of Swedish steel, on which, of course, Uncle Sam collects a good, generous tariff. There is an English steel which is also good, but the Swedish has the call. Both are made by secret process. This steel is imported in the form of tubing, and is cut into parts of various lengths, which are brazed together to make the frame. The brazing is all-im-portant to the rigidity of the frame. Without rigidity a wheel wiuld never stand cross country riding. The bracing is done under enormous heat, and the testing is repeated again and again. In a bicycle factory, spokes, rims, sprockets, frames, etc., are all tested before they are adjudged to be ready for use. Each of these parts sustains a strain that has been figured out to a nicety. The testing machine can exert a tension or compression of from a few ounces up to 100,000 pounds. When the full power is turned on its great jaws can tear apart a solid bar of steel as easily as a child peels a banana. Each spoke has to stand so many pounds, the frame must do the same, the rim, the chain, the sprockets, hub, the front fork, pedals, cranks, handle bar and even the ball bearings must show that they are absolutely right. The coasting ability of a bicycle depends upon the "true” character of the bearings. To show how finely they are measured it will only be necessary to say that in the largest factories there is a machine which makes all the parts "true” down to one-tenth thousandth of an inch. This is getting bicycling down to a fine point, but the race for precedence among the big makers is fierce, and seemingly out of keeping with the general hilarity of the sport. An interesting thing about a high grade bicycle is what is known in mechanics as the safety factor. Thus in the great high pressure modern guns the safety factor is twenty, or in other words, the gun is made twenty times stronger than the strain to be put upon it. Ordinarily guns have a safety factor of ten; boilers of six, bridges of five and other mechanical products about four. The bicycle of the old style weighed sixty pounds; the high grade machine of to-day weighs eighteen pounds, and the safety factor has been reduced to only 1.25. This extraordinarily low safety factor is in deference to the demand for lightness, which just now is being carried to an extreme. Another year the tendency will be to make fewer light machines. The figure 1.25 above means that if any part of the wheel is imperfect to the extent of one quarter of its calculated strength, the machine may be crippled suddenly and the rider may have a bad (all. It is doubtful if more than one or two manufacturers make the entire wheel. Some of them claim that they do, however. The fact is that the tires, the wood rims, the chains and the saddles, and also the lanterns are in most instances made by specialists. This cannot well be otherwise, because the four first mentioned require special knowledge, being really the most important elements of all good wheels. There are any number of tires, but a greatly less number of rims. The wood rim is one of the great discoveries. The wood is preferably white ash or hickory. Some firms use three or four pieces, glued and pressed together—laminated is the trade word—and then curved. The connecting ends are fastened in various ways. It has been found that wood rims have more resiliency—that is, power of resisting shock—than have steel rims. It took years to find this out. Now there is talk of paper rims. But whether made of steel, wood or paper, no rim over made is able to withstand a collialon if it is struck under speed.

CANARIES FOR CONVICTS.

Michigan Prisoners Keep Thom for Comfort and Profit. Convicts in the Michigan State prison have many more favors than those of almost ar<y other penitentiary in the United States, and it is the belief of the management of the Institution that for this reason there are fewer outbreaks of lawlessness than are found elsewhere. Among the favors granted to them here is that of keeping and caring for birds. There are fully 600 feathered songsters in Michigan's principal penal institution, all owned and cared for by the convicts, and as soon as daylight approaches on bright mornings their sweet notes are heard in striking

contrast to the natural feelings of their owners. Many of the most hardened criminals, who from their general appearance and history would not be expected. to care for anything of a refining nature, tenderly care for and caress.their little pets. More than three-quarters of the cells in the prison contain one or more canaries, and they are also found in various shops throughout the institution. During the day the cages are hung outside the cells to give the birds light and air, but as soon as the convict returns from work at night the cage is taken inside. This practice has been carried on in the prison for years, and the officials say that instead of any detrimental effect being noticeable the little songsters have proved a benefit, as they not only give the cells a more homelike appearance, but they also wield a decided influence in the way of humanizing the most reckless and hardened criminal. Beside being permitted to keep the birds for the sake of their company and influence, the convicts are also allowed to raise them to sell, and many a dollar is credited to the accounts of the prisoners from this source. Of course the convict handles none of the money realized from the sale of the birds until he is discharged, but it is placed to his credit in th.t prison bank. It is interesting to walk up and down the prison corridors and note the different kinds of canaries in the cages, and more particularly to note the different methods adopted by the convicts in caring for their pets. All styles of cages are co be seen, and while one bird is provided with a veritable palace of a home and all the luxuries known in the bird world, the one in front of the next cell will have simply the plainest wood or wire cage and only the ordinary seed and water holders. This is also true in the shops, and the character of the convict can in almost every instance be safely estimated by the care he gives his feathered friends. Through the day the music of the birds is hardly noticeable, although it can be heard more or less at al most any time, but on a bright morning the songsters are pleasingly noisy. One Of the officials who has been connected with the prison for years says that when he first came to the prison the music of the birds in the morning made him wild, but he has now become so accustomed to it that the place would be terribly silent without it.

MAY BE KING OF ENGLAND.

Thia Baby la Hla Royal Highness, Prince Edward. The pictures of the Queen’s grandson are displayed all over London, one of them but a few weeks old, and they all show a clear-eyed, intelli-gent-looking little fellow, with plump arms and wavy hair. A report has been circulated for several days that Prince Edward, who is the only child of the Duke and Duchess of York, and the heir to the throne of Great Britain, is deaf and dumb. It has been impossible to ascertain the source of the report, but there is no doubt that it is In a circle fairly near the court.

There is nothing in the expression of the face or in the attitude to indicate the slightest mental defect. It in regarded as a little remarkable that, in case the boy be deaf, the infirmity was not discovered some months ago, as he now is more than a year old. The Duchess of York has not been seen often in public recently, and those circulating the reports regarding the Prince say that her reclusiveness is due to her grief. This, however, is bare supposition. As yet no effort has been made to correct the story of the Prince’s intimity, although the curent gossip must have reached the ears of His Highness' parents and grandparents.

THE CITY DEPARTMENTS.

Under Reform Administration. Will the taxpayers read over the bills that were passed bj' the Board ot Aidermen on Tuesday, August 6. 1895. Here Is a specimen of one of the bills: R. W. Carman, disinfectant, $249.55, for what? This is enough of disinfectant to disinfect the whole of Long Island City. Here are other speedmens. A. Vaughan, incidental expenses, $5.60. for what? William E. Stewart, $12.96. for what? M. J. Goldner, sundry expenses, for what? F.H. Batterman, expenses, $7.50, for what! All of these named we believe are drawing good salaries of the taxpayers. What right has the taxpayers to pay for disinfectant for the City Hall cellars? How long must the taxpayers (stand this, or in the words of Aiderman McGee, mints an extravagance, And surely any taxpayer that will glance over the last batch of bills passed by the Board of Aidermen must agree with Aiderman McGee's remarks on Mints extravagance and the loose manner the Department of Fublic Works Is managed. Well may some make it their braggadocio that they have $25,000, when but only a little over two years ago they did not have that many cents. But in the words of that eloquent orator and brainy man, City Treasurer Knapp, who said without fear, “there is a day of judgment coming when the people will know all," and Chinfoo said there is a day

coming when some fellow wnu not have his cur fare to ride with a few years ago and had to ride on shanks mare, and that some fellow may have to tell where the fast colt came from and a few more little matters the public may ask to know. Time will tell all and the people will have to confess they were damnably fooled in reform administration .

DR. EDWARD BEECHER.

He Was the Associate of His Brother, the Groat Plymouth Divine. The Rev. Dr. Edward Beecher was when he died in his 92nd year. The venerable clergyman had enjoyed good health all his life and sank gradually into a state of coma, which continued for ten hours before his death, as in the case of his most distinguished brother, Henry Ward Beecher. Edward Beecher was the third son of the famous Dr. Lyman Beecher by his first wife, and was born at Easthampton, L. 1., on August 27, 18011. He was prepared for college under his father’s care, and was graduated from Yale in 1822. For the tout following years he was tutor in the Hartford High School and at Yale. All through his life he was an ardent advocate of physical culture and healthy athletics, and while a tutor at Yale he incurred the criticism of his superiors by engaging in a game of quoits with the pupils. Later on an article from his pen in the Christian Spectator on “The Duty of an Equitable Culture of All the Powers,’’ in which he made a strong plea for healthy physical culture, attracted wide attention and gave a marked stimulus to *’ cultivation of college sports.

THE LATE DR, EDWARD BEECHER.

Dr. Beecher began his career as a minister in 1826 as the pastor of the Park Street Congregational Church in Boston. He retired from this charge in 1880 to become the President of the Illinois College at Jacksonville, where he remained for fourteen years. In 1844 be accepted a call to the Salem Church in Boston. His second Boston pastorage terminated in 1856, when ho took charge of the Congregational Church at Galesburg, 111. He remained there until 1862, when ho came to Brooklyn to assist his brother, Henry Ward Beecher, in the editorial management of the Christian Union. While engaged on the Christian Union he organized several Congregatlonalist churches in New Jersey. In 1785 he again put on the ministerial harness, and took charge of the little Congregational Church at Parkville, L. 1. From the time of his arrival in Brooklyn in 1872 his home was In the Mason street house in Brooklyn, and in spite of his advanced agehe made almost dally trips to Parkville to attend to his pistoral duties. One night in April, 1889, while returning from Parkville after prayer meeting services, he was run over by a train at the Culver station at Ninth avenue and Twentieth street, and had one leg so badly crushed that it had to be amputated. To the surprise of the doctors he survived his injuries, and within a few months was restored apparently to his usual robust health. His widow was a Miss Jones, and they celebrated their sixty-fifth wedding anniversary on October 27.1894. Their two sons are the Rev. Fred. W. Beecher, o» Angelica, N. Y., and Eugene F. Beecher, of Brooklyn.

The Town of Heidelberg.

Heidelberg is in natural location a curious y situated place. The town is built at the point where the Neckar River, shortly before it empties into the Rhine, emerges from a winding defile in the mountains. The river abuts so close to the mountain edge there is scarcely room for a town, so that the houses have been stretched out along one principal street. This is the so-called Hauptstrasse, or Main street, which is, of course, neither wonderful nor beautiful. It is simply a winding roadway, where one may observe various phases of German village life. The shops are nearly all located here, where not only the natives trade, but where are found all those various novelties and souvenirs which are distinctly of the place, and which tourists are so addicted to carrying home with them. The other lead ing street, and the one most frequented by foreigners, is the socalled Anlage, a broad, earth path beneath a double line of trees, adjoining at one end a small park. This is the aristocratic quarter, where nearly all the hotels are situated. In common with all German towns and cities the soldier life on this street and elsewhere is very much in evidence. A regiment, with its stirring music, goes marching through the town once or twice ,a day to keep alive the martial spirit of the people, and to impress them with the power of the Government It would seem that there might be in Germany one or two particularly pretty little towns, such as this is, perhaps excluded from the military jurisdiction, where those people might resort who are not so fond of the army. The German Government, however, trusts so little in the innate goodness and reliability of the individual that such a dburse has never commended itself to It.

World’s Hose Reel Record.

The world's record is claimed by the Dirigo Hose Company, of Ellsworth, Me., which the other day ran 210 yards to the engine house, then 288 yards with the hose reel, coupled the hose to the hydrant and the nozzle to the hose, all in 1 minute If seconds.

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

HOLIDAY LESSONS. Now that school is over, Still, at every turn, All day long we're finding Lots of things to learn. Funny little studies In the grass and trees, And our heads we puzzle Over things like these. “Where do baby violets Get their eyes of blue? Why the screech owl children Always sob ‘Boohoo!’ Why ‘Bob White’ is wanted When it’s going to rain? Who is little Phebe Called so long in vain? Why do squirrels chuckle? Why do fireflies wink? Why do wasps make paper When they have no ink?” So the whole vacation, Wander where we .will, lust the longest lessons We are studying still.

ELOQUENT RAGS. “Eloquence is speaking out—out of the abundance of the heart,” say the authors of “Guesses at Truth.” An incident related by Dr. Barnardo, the English philanthropist who cares for friendless children, illustrates this characteristic of eloquence. “I was standing,” he said, “at my frontdoor one bitter day in winter, when a little ragged chap came up to me and asked me for an order of admission. To test him, I pretended to be rather rough with him. “ ‘How do I know,’l said, 'if vyhat you tell me is true? Have you any friends to speak for you?' “ 'Friends! he shouted. ‘No, 1 ain’t got no friends; but if these ’ere rags'—and he waved his arm about as he spoke,—'won’t speak forme, nothin' else will.’ ” A HUGE PIE. The largest pie ever known was that described in the Newcastle Chronicle for the 6th January, 1770. It was shipped to Blr Henry Gray, Baronet, London, Mrs. Dorothy Patterson, housekeeper at Hawic, being the maker. Into the composition of this great pie entered two bushels of flour, twenty pounds of butter, four geese, two turkeys, two rabbits, four wild ducks, two woodcocks, six snipe, four partridges, two neats’ tongues, two curlews, seven blackbirds and six pigeons. It weighed twelve stone, and was nine feet in circumference at the bottom. It was furnished with a case on wheels, for convenience In passing it round to the guests. The receipt for this pie is given here as a hint to those of our readers who may be thinking of getting up a picnic within the next two or three weeks. A half dozen pies of this size ought to be enough for at least

READY. During the rebellion in Chili one young girl had the chance of distinguishing herself at a moment of danger, and hesitated not an Instant in embracing it. This was the daughter of John Claudio Vlcuriu, and her father thus described the story of her heroism to the author of “Dark Days in Chili.” “One evening at 6 o'clock, during my absence,my daughter was writing Some letters for me at a table, Budenlyshe heard a crash of broken glass, followed by a loud explosion at the street end of the room, and there had been so much bomb work of late that instinctively she guessed what had happened. “Before she could collect herself sufficiently to rush for the door, a second bomb was hurled in, and rolled almost to her feet, providentially without exploding. This she picked up and threw from the other window Into the court below; then, seeing that some brown paper was smoldering in a half open box of rifle cartridges, she quickly dashed a large jug of water over it. “By this time the servants had rushed in, and succeeded in extinguishing the fire which had caught the curtains and furniture. “But my brave girl, remembering that I had gone out unarmed, took my revolver and started out alone to meet me on my way home, and it was not until I had been provided with the weapon that she told me what had happened.”

ANIMAL CALLS. The fowl call, chick, chick, chick! and its variation, kip, kip, kip! are as cld as the call to the cow, being the Sanscrit kuk, the name of the domesticated fowl, whence cock and kik, or chick, together witfi kip, chip and chuck—words all clearly Imitated from the note of the bird, which in Sanscrit was kak, to crow, or to laugh, when cackle. Thu country housewife who says shoo to the trespasser upon her kitchen garden or flowerpot uses almost the same exclamation that the ancient Greeks used to scare away the fowls in their day, which may be derived from the Sanscrit su, to hurl or to drive. No study of animal call can leave out the calls to the cat and the dog, to which the child, like his primitive ancestor, gives names imitative of their voices—the meow and the bowwow. The word puss is supposed to be an imitation of the spitting, or, as the English say, the swearing of the cat, for which the Hindoo word is.phis. Kit is but a variation ot cat, of which kitten or kitty is the diminutive, and scat is probably hist and cat compounded and shortened, or it may be the Sanskrit skat to scatter. The dog, perhaps because of his always having been given individual names, and because of the almost human intelligence, has no general call nor particular word of command. Many different words are contained in the dog vocabulary, of which among us is the ejaculatory sick 'em, is the only expression understood by all dogs alike who have English speaking masters, which is plainly seek 'em, seek being from the Sanscrit sak, to chase, or follow. A veterinary surgeon in Van Buren, Me., was called a few days ago to find the reason and remedy for an odd hard bunch on a horse’s shoulder. He lanced the swelling, and found in the center of it a silver dime.