Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 June 1896 — THE TOUNC FOLKS. [ARTICLE]

THE TOUNC FOLKS.

TOE spelling match. Ted little children, standing in a line, “F-ul-y. fully,” then there were nine. Nine puzzled faces, fearful of their fate, “C-i-l-l-y, silly,” then there were eight. Eight pairs of blue eyes, bright as stars of heaven, “B-u-s-s-y, busy,” then there were seven. Seven grave heads, shaking in an awful fix. “La i-d-y, lady,” then there were six. Six eager darlings, determined each to strive, “D-u-t-i-e, duty,” then there were five. Five hearts so anxious, beating more and more, “8-c-o-l-l a-r, scholar,” then there were four. Four months like rosebuds on a red rose tree. “M-e-r-y, merry," then there was but three. Three pairs of pink ears, listening keen and true. “On-l-e-y, only,” the-i there were two. Two sturdy laddies, ready both to run, “T-u-r-k-v, turkey,” then there was one. One head of yellow hair, bright in the sun, “H-e-r-o, hero,” the spelling match was won. A FORGIVING DOG. In the Ladies’ Kennel Journal there is printed a story of George Eliot’s favorite spaniel, which Mr. Robert Buchanan tells. One day when the novelist, George Lewes, and Mr. Buchanan were engaged in earnest conversation, they were disturbed by a sudden \elp of pain from beneath the table. Examination revealed the fact that a child of three years of age or so had been amusing himself by snipping at the animal's ears with a pair of ecissors, and the mangled condition of the dog showed how much torture he had borne before giving way or uttering a sound of protest. George Eliot was naturally, violently angry, an d was about to punish the child, but the dog, divining her intention, licked bis little persecutor’s face, and mutely begged him off the whipping he had richly deserved. QUEER DIISAMS OF TWO CHINAMEN. Tang-tong, a woodsman, going to his work one morning, killed a deer and hid it in the thicket till he should return in the evening. During the afternoon he slept for an hour. And, when going home, he searched in vain for the deer. Getting tired at last, he exclaimed: "Oh, I must have dreamed I killed him.’’ Ho-tchu, a neighbor of Tangtong’s, dreamed, however, that he had killed a deer and hidden it in the thicket, and, when going home in the evening, he searched and found Tang-tong’s deer. But during the night Tang-tong dreamed that his deer was in Ho-tchu’s house, and, on gcing there next day quarreled with Ho-tchu. They agreed to put the matter before a magistrate. Said the magistrate: “This is a difficult matter. Divide the deer into halve? bring me one half, and share the remainder between you.” The woodsmen divided the deer, and, takiug half each, called in their neighbors to a feast. The magistrate came next day inquiring for his portion. “What portion i” asked the woodsmen. “Of the deer,” said the magistrate. "Why, you must have dreamed about it, ” said Tang-tong and Ho-tchu.

A FOUR-LEAF CLOVER. Girls and boys, there are lots of us in this big world hunting for something great, noble and courageous to do. It is only a few who have a chance to save a trainful of lives at the risk of their own, or dash in the burning house or breaking waves to rescue someone, or to stop a runaway horse. But there are lots of chances just as great, though not so easily seen. This is intended to be a little sermon, and the text is. “Keep your eyes open.” Do you remember the story of the man •who spent his life in looking for a foUrleaf clover? When a boy he was told that if he could find a four-leaf clover the possession of it would bring him “good luck” in all his undertakings. So. acting upon the suggestion, he started oit in search of the coveted clover. He left his home and his friends to wander alone in search of the talisman, traveling many weary miles across continents and oceans, but all in vain. At last, a disappointed, white-haired, feeble old man, he returned to his home to die. As be tottered up the forsaken pathway, lo and behold! the first thing that met his eye, growing close beside the doorstep, was a four-leaf clover! Have you commenced your search for the four-leaf clover ? A CRPISER’S PET OAT. As a general rulo sailors do not lijce cats and hate to have- them aboard ship, saying that they are “bad luck,” but there are some exceptions, and one of them is Charley, the “mascot” of the United States cruiser Yorktown, the most famous of cats. Charley joined the Yorktown in 1889. He has traveled something like 150,000 miles in her, and is the'oldest member of the crew, with the exception of one seaman, Martin Foley. Officers and sailors come and go, court martials are held, desertions take place and penalties are inflicted, but Charley remains the pet of the ship and the most exalted cat, marine or otherwise, on the globe. The hyndreds of scattered people who have served on the Yorktown will be delighted to learn that Charley is still !’on deck,” so to speak. He has lost his hearing on account of the heavy firing in target practice. but he is still amiable and lovable. They tell a funny story about this famous cat When the Yorktown was on Behring sea duty she moored one day at a dock on the opposite side of which an English gunboat lay. As was his wont Charley walked out on the dock to take a view of things. Some English sailors, | observing his swagger, remarked that ‘ Ginger” should be brought out and introduced. One of them went on board the English gunboat and brought out Ginger, a lusty cat of lofty British pretensions and aristocratic mien. The two cats met on the dock and touched noses in a disdainful way. when, all of a sudden. Charley let fly his right paw. striking the Briton on the jaw and knocking him overboard. This act performed, he strutted back to his ship as if to say: “Did you see me do ’im?” His performance was cheered by the Yorktown jackies, and that cat’s stock rose 50 per cent then and there. The picture of the pet is in the possession of nearly every officer and sailor on the ship. Scores of them have been-sent home and thousands of people in the United States know about the Yorktown’s feline mascot. CAPTAIN ROBERT’S VICTORY. Robert was kept in the house by a cold, sc he flattened his nose against the glass and watched a military procession pass by. They were in gay uniforms, with bright buttons, and kept step beautifully. Robert watched until the last glimmer of their brightness disappeared round a corner; then he turned with a sigh to

watch his mother put some pies in the oven, and be said to her, “I would like to be a goldier.” “Very well,” said bis mother, “then I would be.” Robert stared at her for a few minutes, and then be said. “Would be what?’ “Why, a soldier. Wasn’t that what you said you wished to be ?’ “Well, but bow could I be?" • Easy enough: that is, if you put your mind to it. A soldier’s life is never an easy one, of course." “But, mother, I don’t know what you mean.” This Robert said. “Don’t! You haven’t forgotten the verse we talked about so long ? ‘Greater is he that ruletb his s.iirit than he that taketh a city.’ It takes real soldier like fighting to rule a spirit, I can tell you.” “Oh,” said Robert: and be flattened his nose against the glass again and thought. 4 ‘But, mother,” be said at last ‘‘l didn’t mean that kind. I would like to be a captain, and bare some soldiers under me.” “Nothing easier,” said the mother, shutting the oven door. "There are your ten fingers, and your eyes, and your ears, and that troublesome tongue, that bates to obey. I’m sure you have soldiers enough to control. I pity any captain who has as troublesome ones." Robert laughed. He had had so many talks with his mother that he understood her very well; yet this was a new way of putting it. He stoo l there a good while thinking about it, deciding that he won Id be a captain forthwith, and that his soldiers should obey perfectly. Then he wo dered what orders he should have to give them first. Poor fellow! In less than ten minutes from that time he knew. Le went to the sitting room, to find that Baby Carrie had been there befoie him. Tliere lay his birthday book on the floor; some of the best pictures in it were torn into bits. Oh, how angry was Captain Robert! He wanted to run after Carrie and slap, her uauzhty fingers; she was almost two years old. and ought to know better He wanted to run to his mother, and with red face and angry voice tell his story of wrong, and demand that Carrie should be whipped. He wanted to bury his head in the sofa cushions and cry just as loud as he could roar. Why did he do none of those things? Just because he remembered in time that he was a captain, and had soldiers that must obey. “Halt!" he said to his feet as they were about to rush away; and they instantly obeyed. ‘‘Stop!” he said to the tears, as they began to rush up to his eyes; and back they all went, save one little straggler. who rolled down his nose, and was instantly wiped out of existence. In short, the boy proved hitnself a good captain, for th-it time, at least. He even sent his feet up-tairs presently, with a rosy-cheeked apple for Carrie, and bade his arms give her a very loving hug, which they immediately did. Mother found out all about it, as mothers almost always do; and when father came home at night, what did he do but bow low and say. “. aptain Robert, I am proud to salute you. I hear you have fought a battle and won a victory to-day.”