Hope Republican, Volume 1, Number 31, Hope, Bartholomew County, 24 November 1892 — Page 2

JOI'E REPUBLICAN. By Jat C Smith INDIANA Kansas seems to be long on bank and short on liverymen with Winchesters. There were 8,83S students in the Medical univerities of the German ®<npiro last year. The subjects of Great Britain nr* the most tremendous patent medicine swallowers on the globe. Now that the election is over, why °°t prepare for a general onslaught an the Thanksgiving turkey? Though the Pope’s jubilee does not take place until next year, presents have already begun to arrive at the Vatican, Paris is having a very serious time in trying to discover a second “Jack the Ripper” that has been committing atrocious murders in that city. That Chicago telephone operator who eloped with three sisters named ’Leyden will do well to keep his eyes open. Leyden jars are not good things to fool with. After Nov. 15, the New York policemen will not be permitted to carry clubs. That’s right. If a New York policeman can t protect himself with his revolver he should get off the force. The Delsarte business is a success. A New York girl, who is an expert, was confronted by a burglar, let out a terrific yell, kicked the fellow in the chin and knocked him down stairs end over end. It is alleged that 40,000 families in the East End of London are s'.arvIng. Representatives of these unfortunate people recently paraded, the streets and demanded municipal employment. A Mr. Grundy, at a recent English diocesan conference, hit a popular chord when he said that church services should be bright, beautiful and brief. The average sermon can r be boiled down to ten or fifteen minutes, at most, without loss of sirbyf ance. Mr. Stanley, the explorer, has at tost shown himself in his true colors os the deadly foe o' America and iome of our chief industries. In pleading for British colonization of Africa, he says: “I think we might raise just as good hogs in the uplands of British Central Africa as the Americans do on the prairie lands of Illinois.” If ho can get a breed that will not make the floors of passenger cars impassable or charge §21 a day for a carriage he will certainly lay over the Illinois variety. The Preach, says a recent dispatch, has captured Cama and Abomey, and the war with Dahomey is therefore probably at an end. This war began August 16, and was the quickest and most brilliant invasion of an African country yet made by a European power. The amazons, or women warriors, are said to have fought bravely, but could not contend against the superior disciplined civilized forces. The loss to the French was triffling, to the Dahom cyans very heavy. The letter hurriedly dictated by President Harrison to his townspeople of Indianapolis when he left there on the day of Mrs. Harrison’s funeral is a most touching eomposi, tion. One can hardly road it with dry eyes: “My Dear Old Friends and Neigh bors: “I cannot leave you without sayfog that the tender and gracious sympathy which you have to-day shown for mv children, and much more, the touching evidences you j have given of your love for the dear | wife and mother, have deeply moved our hearts. We yearn to tarry with I you and to rest near the hallowed spot where your loving hands Lavo kiid our dead; but the little grandchildren watch in wondering silence for our return and need our care,and some public business will not longer wait upon my sorrow. May a gra-, cions God keep and bless you all. | “Most gratefully yours, ' {“Benjamin Harrison."

THANKSGIVING DAY. It’s be*a a year to day senco last I kneeled ’nd thanked the Lord Fer all the wondrous blessing ’ud the joys these days afford, ’Nd he lam again this year, prepared to do my part At renderin’ of thanks devout, most humbly from this here sinful life. Although I vow I’ve seed of late a mighty lot of strife. My craps went back on mo this year; my Jersey cow. she’s dead; •Nd I for sixteen mortal weeks lay groanin’ on my bod With rheuKiatlz; ’nd cracky! Gee! It wasn’t any fun. I tell yc. Then my Utile mare—the speedy sorrel one I sot so much store on—one day she shied ’nd run away, 'Nd lamed herself for life, ’nd smashed to smithereens the shay. 'Nd then my darter Susan, she eloped the forth o’ .Tune With thit young Silas Tompkins. He’s a worthless sort o’ ’coon He never earned an honest cent, ’nd, far as I can see. Ain’t never likely to begin The couple lives with me. 'Nd wife's gone kind o’ flighty, too. It was in deed a sin For mo 10 sell for rags the sock she kep’ her savin’s in ’Nd yet, you know. I’m thankful, spite of all my beastly luck. Because I don’t got flabbergasted ev’ry time I’m struck. £ know there’s lean ’nd fat for all, ’nd I’ve just had my lean, 'Nd now a juicy slice of fat ’ll come my way, I ween: 'Nd even if it doesn’t come, you’ll hear my thank "ul roar Because tliso dog-goned year just past ’s behind me—not before. —•Harper’s Magazine for November A DOUBLE THANKSGIVING. N. Y. Weekly. The November sun was shining as only a November sun can shine iu the grand old State of Virginia. The whold atmosphere seemed filled with a toft, mellow light, a reflection from the leaves that Jack Frost hpd colored to suit his individual taste. I Under the trees in the orchard, and at the cider mill, were great heaps of red apples, while out oy the [ barn were long rows of yellow pumpkins. The wagon, with its great lack loaded with corn stalks, was standing in the yard. The corn cribs tilled to the very roof with corn and the barn, which was packed so full of hay that it bulged out at each door and window, all spoke of a bountiful harvest. On the lawn the grass was still green, and a few late flowers were in bloom along the walk in front of the house, which was a two story frame building, painted white. An air of order and thrift prevailed over the place. It was Thanksgiving, and on the Arleigh Farm this day was held as sacred as the Sabbath. In the sitting room, in a reclining chair, sat Mrs. Arleigh, the owner and manager of the great Arleigh estate. At her feet sat a girl of about twenty years. She was the picture of grace' and beauty, as she sat with her head resting on the arm of Mrs. Arleigh s chair. She was the daughter of a very dear friend of Mrs. Arleigh, who had died a widow and left her to the care of her friend. | Since Mary Fenton was nine years I old she had lived with Mrs. Arleigh, who had been a mother to her, and she in return had been all that a daughter could be. The bond between them was all that love and respect could make it. Soon after Mary had come to the Arleigh farm to live, Mr. Arleigh had been killed in a railroad accident leaving his wife with an only son, Charles Arleigh, who was twelve years old at the time of his father's de.ith. At the age of twenty one Charles Arleigh had graduated at one of the first colleges, and returned home to take charge of his father's affair. James Bond, bis uncle, Mrs. Arleigh'a brother, and who, by the wav was as fond of Charley as though he had been his own son', was about to start for Europe for a year’s travel. He persuaded Mrs. Arleigh to consent to be separated from her son for another year to allow him to see the old world. From a boy-and-girl fancy, Mary and Charley had always been betrothed lovers. When Charley came from college and found Mary grown to be a beautiful woman, he did not feel so free about talking about their future as he expected to, and she. seeing him hesitate, thought he had found some one he liked better, and immediately became shy and distant when they were alone. The night before leaving home for his year of travel they were walking in the garden, when Charley took her hand and said: “Mary, since we were boy and girl we have been pledged to each other, and you have always promised to one day be my wife. We are children no longer, and I wish you to renew the pledge as a woman. I as a man love you. and want you for my wife. Mary, do you love me well enough to say yes? ’ For answer she put her hands iu his, and looking him in the eyes, said: “Charley, I have always loved you and always shall.” Charley was again happy in the knowledge of having her love. When they entered the room where his mother was sitting, Charlie took

mary by the hand, and leading her to where his mother sat, said: “Mother, Mary has consented to be my wife." “Why, bless yon, children, yon told me that eight years, ago but I will say now what I did not then—that there is nothing you could do that would give me so much pleasure and when you return, wo will celebrate the occasion with your wedding, So, Sir Knight, come prepared. ” Two years and a half elapsed since the above conversation took place, and the opening of our story still finds Mrs. Arleigh and Mary Fenton alone. When the year was almost gone, Mrs. Arleigh received a letter from her brother, who was in Hamburg, saying that three months before,and a few days after their arrival there, Charley had suddenly disappeared; that he had put the police upon the case, but that they had found no trace of him. The nows prostrated Mrs. Arleigh, and for a month it was feared she would not recover. Mr. Bond prosecuted the search for months, but never found a clew, and he eventually came home. He never gave up the idea that Charley was alive, and always told his sister to cheer up. for Charley would surely come home. Laying her hand on the brown hair of Mary Fenton’s head, Mrs. Arleigh said: “Mary, where do you suppose ouv boy is to day?” Tears filled the brown eyes, and the head dropped on Mrs. Arleigh's lap. “I have hoped and prayed," she continued, “that he would be home to-day to make our Thanksgiving complete. I am getting old, and I need him so much. I do not believe God has taken him from us." Mary arose, and, kissing her, said: “I am going to attend to things until ho comes, and you must rest. I am young, and want something to do. You must teach me to do the work of the place.” “Bless your loving heart! what would I do without you?” replied Mrs. Arleigh. “And now we must get ready for church, and James and Lis wife will come home with us for dinner.” They went to the old church, where the good pastor prayed that the poor of the land might be fed and clothed, and for those that were in strange lands and were not able to gather around the family altar, and whose vacant seats at the table would fill the hearts of parents and friends with silent grief; after which he explained to them how much they had to be thankful for,and to'.d them that the same God who had caused their granaries to be filled, would watch over the absent ones. Mr. Bond and wife walked home with Mrs. Arleigh and Mary, and before they were all seated there was a ring at the door. Mr. Bond answered the bell in person. A stranger inquired if this was the Arleigh Farm. Mr. Bond said it was, and asked him in. Mrs. Arleigh and Mary scanned him closely as he came in, but a look of disappointment rested upon each face as they beheld an utter stranger. He was tail, broad shouldered, with a pleasant blue eye, and a heavy black beard covering the whole face. He looked at Mary and Mrs. Arleigh, and exclaimed: “Mary! mother! Is it possible you do not know me?” At the first sound of his voice in its natural key his mother sprang into his arms. Mr. Bond grasped one hand, and, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, exclaimed: “Charley,! did not knowyou. That beard is what fooled me. my boy!” Mary came forward witli tears of joy in her eyes to give him a kiss of welcome. When dinner was announced and the family were seated at the table, Mr. Bond offered a prayer of thanks to the God that watches over us all. When he said “Amen!” there was not a dry eye around the table. During the two hours that were spent at dinner Charley related how he had been drugged and taken on board a whaler, from which he had not been able to even send home a letter; how, on bis escaping from the ship, he had traveled by night and by day to reach home for Thanksgiving Day. “And now,” said he, turning to Mary, “I am ready to fulfill my part of our contract.” A rosy blush suffused her cheeks as she looked at her mother. “James,” said Mrs. Arleigh, “tomorrow there will be a wedding on Arlington lawn, if the weather permits; if not, it will take place in the Hall. You will see that there are refreshments for two hundred guests. It is short notice, but 1 think it can be done.” “It shall be done,” said James, “if every cook in the city has to come here and work.” The next day was a day of bustle at the Arleigh house. People running in to shake hands with Charley; servants flying here and there; ta-

bles being built on the lawn, and floors laid for the dancers. After the lawn was illuminated, with the guests assembled in the vicinity of tables loaded with good things, Mary and Charley, followed by the bridesmaids and groomsmen, marched out into the center of their' friends. A hearty cheer went up from the crowd, and as it died down the voice of the old pastor was heard to say: i “Do you, Charles Arleigh, take! this woman," etc. At the conclusion of the ceremony there was a rush of friends to offer congratulations, and as the happy pair made their way through the crowd toward the house, Charley whispered: “Darling, how many times within the last two years I have prayed that I might live to see this day.” “Truly, Charley, this has been a Thanksgiving that we shall always remember. One day not being long enough, we have taken two. And let us always thank Him who holds outlives in the hollow of His hand for the blessings He has showered upon us.” SCAGGS’S MAKE FOLLY. The Best Jiancy Hanks Time Some Aears Ago. Harper's Monthly for Novetnher* They wei-e talking about horse?, and more particulai-ly about Nancy Hanks’s wonderful record of 2 Every one seemed to be more or less impressed with the marvellousness of this record except old Mr. Scaggs, a retired farmer. “She’s fast, yes,” he said. “But I oncet owned a mare up on the farm as could beat her. That mare was lighmin’ on legs. Polly was her name — named her after Mrs. Scaggs's mother, and a finer woman you never met. She could bake all around any other woman in the county, an’when it came to me bein’ sick she’d nurse me tenderlier than as if I wasn’t a son-in-law at ail. but her owu boy. My, how she could trot!” “Your mother-in-law?” asked one of the circle. “No; the boss," snapped Scaggs, with fire in his eye. "I’m talkin’ about the boss. I bought her when she was eight years old from old Mrs. Tompkins. She wasn’t much on looks, Mrs. Tompkins wasn't, but she was business ail through. When her husband died she took charge of the grocery, an’ added a millinery department to it, an’ by Joe! inside of a year she was able to close up the grocery an’ do nothin' but make ; hats. Tompkins used to hitch her, up to the delivery wagon, you know, : but of course— ’’ “You don’t mean to say that any man was ever mean enough to hitch his wife up to a grocery wagon and make her haul the packages about town?” queried the inquisitive member of the part}'. “Ain't said nothin’ o’ the kind,” retorted Scaggs. “Don’t you get too funny. I’m talkin’ about the boss. I was goia’ on to tell ye how when old Mrs. Tompkins got rankin’ twodollar hats for the women folks and sellin’ ’em for ten, she give up the grocery business ’n so didn’t have any use for the boss old Tompkins u-ed to drive in his delivery wagon. It happened I wanted a boss ’bout that time 'n so I c lied on old Mrs. Tompkins to talk it over. She was only eight years old at the time and hadn’t much style about her, though she was calculated to be faster’u anything else in town. I ast old Mrs. Tompkins what she’d take ’nd she says $24. “ ’That’s pretty high for an eight-year-old,’ says 1. T’U give ye a dollar ’nd a half a year for tile Loss. That’s $12.’ “‘Make it two, and she’s yours,' says old Mrs Tompkins. “ ‘Throw in a hat for my wife,’ says I, ‘’nd it goes.’ " ‘Done,’ says she. “So I bridled her, paid the money, ’nd led her home. Few days later some o’ the boys, knowin’ as I had sportin’ blood, came an’ ast me to let Polly trot on a mile track for the record. My wife didn’t want me to at first, because she was a little off her feed, ’nd didn’t approve of racin' anyhow, but when the boys offered a purse of $10 if she could beat 2.10. she let up. So I said all right, 'nd we set a date." “Well, what was the result?" asked the inquisitive youth. “Two four for the mile,” said Scaggs. “Two four?” cried the whole circle at once. “Yep,” said Scaggs. “But it was the tract as helped her. There was somethin’ in the track as had ought to be give some o’ the credit, for the old marecoukin t beat more’n four minutes at the County Fair grounds.” “What was the special quality of the tract, Scaggs?” asked one of the party. “Waal,” said Scaggs, slowly, “aa far as I could make out, a mile on our track warn’t more’n half a mile on any other.” Mathilde—I'm svre I wish I knew what Mr. Snippy’s intentions are. flora —Intentions? Why, Snippy never bad such a thing in his file.

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