Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 January 1885 — Page 11

St, Francis of Assisi. Bright waa the <lav St. Frarris rode Far down the mount from his abode. Above where depths of heaven’s blue. Beneath there biu&hed the roses' hue. Twittering birds from tree to treo Poured teurih their joyous minstrelsy. To every sense there came a feast As onward rode the humble priest. “How pure are all things, all I see,” Said St. Francis of Assisi. “’Mid scenes so pure, oh, that I mivht Behold my Lord, my Life, my Light!” What is it stands adown his path That such a loathsome visage hath? A leper, rooking with disease! Who falls imploring on his knees. St. Francis turns to flee in haste, As from some dreadful poisonous beast. But ah. the thought comes to his mind Os llim who w as to lepers kind. Once more he turns, and then draws nea|, And to him says, “Be of good cheer!’’ He fills his death-white hand with gold; lie stoops to kiss his garments old. He passes on, while purer still Are all the scenes.his vision fill. New springs of joy are touched within. He feels a cleansing from all sin. 9 . And where once stood the worse than dead. What bliss! he sees his Lord instead! % ’Twas thus St. Francis learned to find His Lord ’mid woes of humankind. —O. W. Crofts. A SOUTHERN HOAX. 3fhe Inventor of the New Cotton Plant Finds It Return to Torment llim. 30aeon (.Ga.) Telegraph. About two years aeo there appeared in the Telegraph an article on anew cotton plant, and Mr. A. A. Subers, of E.ist Macon, was credited with the discovery. The article was intended as a harmless hoax, and it was thought would be regarded so by all who read it. A short while after its publication the mail brought to Mr. Subers scores of letters from all over the South, asking for seed and samples of the cotton. The article was copied in nearly every paper in the Union, and then crossed the water. Letters were received from cotton factors and cotton planters everywhere, and the States of Texas, Louisiana and Mississippi went wild over it. The Hon. Jefferson Davis read the article and failed tt> discover anything like a hoax in it, and addressed a long letter to Mr. Subers concerning it But few of the thousands of letters ver received replies, but to such a distinguished jnan as Mr. Davis Mr. Subers found time to write that there was no such thing as MagnoDisston cotton. After nearly every town and hamlet in the South had been represented in Mr. Suber’s pigeon-holes, the usual morning budget of letters bore foreign post marks. From Calcutta came a ■ peremptory demand for the seed. The writer intimated that the wonderful cotton-plant was being kept a secret that the British possessions might not procure any of the seed. From Germany carue a request, and France also held out ber hand for a few seeds. From far off Constantinople came a letter in which Hie writer says: “My attention has been directed to your experiments in hybridizing the wild cotton plant of Florida with the common okra, and I congratulate you upon the success which has crowned your efforts.” A Boston man wants three or four seed for his hot house. Another Boston man, editor of the Journal of Commerce, publishes the article, devotes a couple of columns to it, and then makes a personal request of Mr. Subers for a few seeds. •Some of the more anxious people offer to pay Auv amount asked for a peck or more of the seeds. Others more modest ask for one, two And three. One young lady in Texas, who seems to he well fixed, wanted enough for two plantations, and says she will devoto the whole of the next two years to raising this wonderful cotton, .and promises a division of profits. Agencies for the s* od are requested all over the world. Every possible promise is made if only a few seeds are Bent. At first Mr. Subers rather enjoyed the reception every morning of a bundle of letters and postal cards. Then, as the number increased, he pecaine tired. There was no way to distinguish fchese inquiries from letters on other business, anu hence all were opened. In nearly every case Btamps for replies were inclosed, but to answer all the letters received would have required a clerk with a type writer, and this servico Mr. Subers was unable to pay for. Added to the annovance of receiving the letters. Mr. Subers is nnifie fighting mad nearly every day by the manner in which nis name is spelled. Sometimes It is Suber, Soobers, Zubers and Super. He is addressed as Mr., Major, Colonel, Honorable. Monsieur, and one man in California addressed him as the Rev. A. A. Subers. For six months past we lost sight of the article. We began to have hopes of never seeing it again and that it was dead; but the other day it bobbed up serenely in the St. Louis Democrat, and copied by that paper from the Florida Times-Union. We reproduce it here, with the Jhope that the papers throughout the country “will aid us in circulating the information that the new cotton plant is a hoax. In this way we may be able to give Mr. Subers some rest from the people who swallowed the story. “Attention is now attracted in the South to a new cotton plant, which bids fair to prove immensely valuable. For many years A. A. Subers. of Macon, Ga.. has been carefully experimenting to hybridize the cotton that grows wild in Florida with the common okra. The new plant retains the okra stalk and the foilage of the cotton. Its flower and fruit, however, are strikingly unlike either cotton or okra. The plaut has an average height of two feet, and each plant has only one bloom. This is a magnificent flower, very much like the ihagnolia in fragrance, and equally as large. Like the cotton bloom, the flower is white for several days after it opens, after which it is first pale pink and gradually assumes darker shades of this color until it becomes red, when it drops, disclosing a wonderful boll. For about ten days this boll resembles the cotton boll, and then its growth suddenly increases, as if by magic, until it reaches the size of a big cocoanut Not until it reaches this size does the lint appear Them its snowy threads begin to burst from the boll, but are securely held in place by the okralike thorns, or points, that line the boll. One inexperienced picker can easily gather 800 pounds a day, and fast hands much more. Were the only saving that of labor in gathering tho lint, the result of Mr. Subers’s experiment would entitle him to • the everlasting gratitude of the Southern farmer. But this is not all. There are no seeds in the lint Each boll produces about two pounds of very long stapled cotton, superior to the Sea Island, aud at the bottom of the boll there are from four to six seeds, resembling persimmon seed. This new cotton, therefore, needs no ginning. Such a plant would revolutionize the yotton industry of the South.” - ——~ It Might Have Been. Buffalo Express. Ella Wheeler-Wilcox’s facile pen has been silent for many a moon now. We hope the reading public is properly appreciative of the fact. Ella's teeming brain has been centered on a non-liternrv subject. Speaking on a delicate subject lately—her hopes for giving a female hostage to fortune —she said: “I want her to bo fine lookiug, healthy, tender, brainy and capable of attracting men without loving them. Women should be in love with the world, and be able to meet its responsibilities, to find a charm in the society of many, instead of in the compauionsbip of any one man. At least she is happiest when she can do this.” Isn’t there just 4 tinge of regret here that Mrs. Wilcox was not herself strong enough to realize the ideals she has conceived for the as yet shadowy daughter? We thought at the time of her union with the Meriden man that she would have been far liappinr in continuing to love us and the rest of the masculine world of genius generally and impartially. It is a pitiful thing when a soaring, redheaded spirit is tied down to a lump of Connecticut elfty. A Venerable Fair of Hoots. Pltmbure Dißp.it'> A citizen of West Chester. I*a., is wearing a pair of lx>ot3 made from leather that was tanned in VV est Chester county sixty years ago. The lest her ns Very line calfskin and the owner has worn the boots on a great many occasions during the pas', ulu-eu years. For about forty five

years after the leather had been tanned and dressed it was allowed to hang in the garret of the present owner’s father’s residence, and about fifteen years ago a shoemaker of West Chester made from it the boots that are now worn by the owner. A TRAVELER’S MEDITATIONS. A Lecturer oil the Wing Indulges in Some Reflections on People aud Things. Burdette, In Brooklyn Eagle. It seems to mo this winter is rather more hitherto and soulfully beyond than war its predecessor of one bright year aerone. It lacks snow. There is a fleshly utterness about the snow that we are getting this winter that remind you of the mud on an lowa farm during the balmy days of April, when the whole prairie land is a vast mortar bed. Rude and loud sounding boys cannot mold the snow of this winter into balls and fire them at one’s willowy form, but a man can slip up and fall down in it, and then is the last end of that man worse than all other ends. Woe is me, Albama, or words to that effect, for this earthly dross that is palmed off upon us for snow this year seems to cling and dry slowly like shoemaker’s wax. I have been down once myself this year, and it took me thirty eight miles to dry, standing before the stove in the crowded car. and trying to twist my head over my shoulder to look all the way from the back of my neck to my heei3, in one comprehensive glance. As you wander up and down the land you observe at the stations the smaller the town the bigger the name. The poorest, most distressed, hungriest looking passengers always get off at the smallest, forlornest towns with the biggest names. Now there is a man just got off at Canton City. He cot on at Liverpool City. He didu’t have-enough coat to sew r buttons to. His trousers were made of gunnybags. with patches of tarpaulin aud shreds of flannel, ami ids hat wasn’t made at all. It was something that grows wild somewhere in the dark. Aud the. city is usually on a par with tho man. Now there is London City, that we just passed. It is a compilation of cabins and shanties, with one grocery with a dash-board front, where the natives in tho evenings, hold their mouths open and say “Hey” when any one ventures a remark relative to the price of hogs. It is the wild, ungovernable ambition of every wretched little hamlet about the size of a piano box, stood down in a desolate swamp or treeless flat, to choose for itself some high-sounding name and then tack “city” on to it. So it is that we have Boston, New York, Brooklyn and Chicago. That is all very well, but when you take a trip on the Lost Creek nar-row-gauge, you find Metropolis City, Berlin City, Edinburg City, Vienna City, not a single plain monosyllable town on the line, and not a city that can rase 100 people to go to the circ us. Still such is the way of man. Ido not feel harshly toward these cities because I feel that I am one of them, for I abandon my home eight months in the year to lecture on “Home,” and the rest of the time I lecture on the “Mustache,” while I haven’t hair enough on my- lip to tickle my nose, I close this epistle to listen to the music. The man behind me is whistling against the edge of a card a vague, dreamy, far away tune that nobody ever heard and he doesn’t know. TILE LIME-KILN CLUB. Brother Gardner Considers the Future of the White Man and Finds It Uupromisiiig. Detroit Free Press. ‘‘Almos’ ebery day,” said Brother Gardner, as Judge Cadaver fell over the stove hearth and opened the meeting, “I find in de newspapers an article entitled ‘De Fucher oh de Cull’d Race,’ or ‘What kin wo do wid de Cull’d Man?’ or, ‘Am de Black Man Improving?’ De aiverage white man loves to lean back in his cheer put his thumbs into his vest holes, an pat us on de back fur good boys, feeliu' dat he am dead perfeck, an' dat we may some dwy secure de right to sot in his shadder. Gem’len. what am de fucher ob de white man? What kin we do wid him? Am de white man improving? Let us lean back an' study him a bit. Who suffers pelygatny to walk frew de West wid its hat on its ear an’ openly defyin’ law an’ decency? I>e white man. Who am Responsible for, de liquor traffick an’ its burdens of woe an’ misery? De white man. Who takes de money ob widers an’orfuns, of his fellerrnen, an’ hies him across de frontier to sale quarters, wreckin' scores ob homes an’ bringin' ruin to hundreds of' people? De white.man. Who, as de trusted servant ob de people, robs, an’ plunders, an’ embezzles? De white man. Dar may be ten white men to ebery one cull’d man, but fur ebery one black man convicted of arson, adultery, forgery, burglary or murder, twenty-eight white men am hauled up an’ sent ober de road. Wliar dar am one cull’d man in prison, he has fifty white men to keep him company. So much for deir honesty. What am de white man’s fucher? He am growin’ sordid. He am hecomin’ selfish. He am incited by ambitions which trample laws under foot, an’ give no heed to de voice ob honesty. Dissipashun, an’ wine tipplin’, an’ gluttony am shatterin’ his nerves an’ thinnin’ his blood. In two ginerashuns mo’ three out ob every ten white men will be vicious cranks or silly fools. What kin we do wid him? Nuffin. In his vanity apd egotism he am plungin’ forward to destrueshun, an’ he am bound to fetch up on de rocks. Am de white man improvin’? Look ober de lone list ob statesmen, poets, artists, advocates, physicians, philanthropists, and naturalists of twenty years ago, an’ match it if you kin wid de names ob men ob to-day. You can’t do it. I)e white men has passed his zenith an'am now on de down hill side. High libin’, fast libin’, an’ a constant excitement have combined to befuddle his intelleck an' wreck his physical powers, an’ thirty years hence a thinker will be a sideshow in himself. We doan want any pattin’ on de back by white folkses. We are hoein’ our row right long side of him, an’ let him look out dat we doan reach the eand fust.” The Cure. Thv witching look is like a two-edged sword, To pierce his heart by whom thou art surveyed; Thy rosy fins tho precious balm afford To heal the wound thy keen-edged sword has made. I am its victim; I have felt the steel. My heart now rankles with the smarting pain; Give me thv lips the bitter wound to heal— Thy lips 1 kiss, and I am whole again. —Chambers’s Journal. The Nerve of a Bashful Man. New York Letter iu Washington Post, A few days' since a diffident friend of mine, whom for his own sake l shall call Robinson, gathered sufficient courage to attend a “tea” given to introduce into society a young girl whom but a short time ago. it seemed to him, he had trotted on his knee and told stories to. Ascending the steps and entering the hall, he gave his coat in charge of a menial, who called in a loud tone. “Mr Robinson,” as the so-named person’s foot struck the edge of one of the rugs. The unexpectedness of the announcement caused him to hesitate an instant—the rug slipped from uhder him, and he made his entree in a wide spread sprawl upon his hands and knf*es at the very feet of his hostess and her daughter. The assembled company, who had, for the most part, crossed this Rubicon with a haunting sense of insecurity, were on thp qui vive for such an accident, and greeted it with uncontrollable peals of laughter. Robinson, with his face purple red from mortification, picked himself up. turned on his heel, left the room, took his coat from the shaking attendant and went out In about two minutes, as the people were just settling down after the tempdrr-ry excitement, Robinson again entered the house, gave hi s c-oat to the servant, who again managed to ejaculate, “Mr. Robinson,” stepped firmly upon the rug, said the customary words of greeting to his hostess, spoke a few sentences of conventional congratulation to the fair debutante, and without the least allusion to his prior appearance mingled with the guests, all of which showed, as I well know, that Robinson possessed an amount of dignity and nerve not always found in those who possess more of what is usually called “cheek.” _ Important Change of Fashion. I’hilndelpkin Record. The dainty ivory poker-chips, the size of a vest button and of the thickness of letter'pa. per, have gone out of fashion, and now it is said that even ladies prefer the regulation gamblers’ chip, the size of a silver half dollar. The popularity of the game is growing. He Thanks His Paper, Mr. Editor: I was induced by reading your good paper to try Dr. Harter’s Iron Tonic for debility, liver disorder and scrofula, and three bottles have cured uie. Accept my thanka. Jos. C. Boggs.—Ex.

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SATURDAY, JANUARY 17, 1885.

A GREEEEY REMINISCENCE. How the Great Editor Refused to See the Late Senator Henry Wilson. New York Journalist. , Ben Van Houten, Greeley’s old bell boy, is driving a milk wagon in New Jersey. He wa3 six feet high when in the Tribune service, and he had eyes like goggles and a hand like the hand of providence. “Bub,” said Horace to him. as he entered his sanctum one night, “I want to write for an hour or two, and I don’t want to be bothered. Keep all tho bums out of my room.” “Yes, Mr. Greeley,” Ben replied in a hoarse voice, for he had a voice like a bull of Baslian. Within hair an hour Ben Bruce. Dennis McLaughlin and several other political gadflies tried to buzz their way to the oid room, but were summarily squelched by Ben. Finally, Senator Henry Wilson, of Massachusetts, entered. He had been on a campaign tour in Indiana, and he wore the dirtiest duster aud slouch hat that had been seen in New York since the departure of the Pendleton escort in 1868. The Senator dropped his carpet-bag and advanced toward the open door of Mr. Greeley's sanctum, when lie was confronted by Ben. “Where are you going?” blurted tho watchdog. “I’m going to see Mr. Greeley,” the Senator replied. “Not much you hain’t,” roared Ben, elevating his voice so as to make himself solid with Horace. “Get right out o’ here, or I'll help you ou~” General Wilson was dumbfounded. His face, usually red, was made redder by Ben’s manner. “Won’t you be so kind as to take my name in to Mr. Greeley?” he asked. Ben looked hard at him, and asked his name. “Wilson,” was the reply. -. “Well,” said Ben, “I’ll go in and see if he wants to see you.” He returned in forty seconds, more aggressive than ever. “It’s just as I told you,” he roared. He won’t see you; now, d —n you, git out o’ here.” Wilson turned to Amos Cummings, night editor, who lay back in his chair, bursting with suppressed emotion. “What’s the matter, General?” he asked. Senator Wilson explained, w-hile Ben looked on in astonishment. “There must be some mistake.” the night editor remarked, “and I’ll take you in and introduce you to Mr. Greeley.” They entered the great editor’s sanctum together. Horace sat at his high desk, his eyes close to the manuscript, scratching away like a hen on a fresh sand-heap. “Mr. Greeley,” said Amos, “liere’s Senator Wilson. You refused to see him just now.” There was a moment of silence. Horace scratched away without looking up. “Well,” he piped, in a shrill alto, without removing his pen, “the boy said that a d —d old bum named Wilson wanted to see me, and I thought it was Billy Wilson.” Love’s Wane. What, if lovo grow weary with long waiting, Pained with the frequent lapsing cf long years Unsatisfied of love, that knows but tears. And winter passion, but no spring-time’s mating; Till sick at heart at each long hope’s abating, Seeking it find some soul not so remote, To cling and twine soft arms about whose throat Is joy enough to drown the whole world's prating;— Shall we condemn, who know not of the sorrow Endured beyond endurance, and the pain Os love unsatisfied, or shall we borrow That which hereafter we may count as gain? Love’s flame burns bright to-day, and dies to-morrow; And love, unfed with love, is but love's wane. , —J. Almon liitchie. A CLOVER CLUB DINNER. A Novel Plan Adopted for Putting Life into After-Dinner Speeches. Brooklyn Eagle. I think the most enjoyable dinners are those given by the Philadelphia Clover Club. The organization is composed of the jolliest sot of men in the Quaker City, and several hundred of them dine at a monstrous table in the shape of a fourleaved clover. The peculiarity of their dinner is that they endeavor to confuse every man who gets up to make a speech. Nothing tickles the club so much as to get hold of a man who resents such familiarity, and they are often tickled, for nothing is so startling to a diffident speaker as the manners of the members after he has begun to talk. To say they are free and untrammeled in tho expression of their opinions concerning the speaker is but a feeble way of putting it. The gibes, sneers, jeers and comments which assail the unfortunate speaker at every word usually reduce him to a state of gibbering imbecility before he has spoken half an hour. Then if he is any sort of a man at all he turns round and howls out the best speech of „ his life after which he is toasted to the limit of the law. It is certainly uncomfortable at first to face such a club as this famous one of Philadelphia. 1 remember a very tall, slim and grave man who rose to make a speech at one of the Clover Club dinners a year or two ago. and who had evidently been jtept in ignorance of the methods of the members of that festive body. He was a railroad president or something of that sort, and his dignity was preternatural. First he coughed slightly behind his hand, then thrust one hand in his breast and rested tho other iu a stilted way upon the table. He looked with a grave and important air and coughed again. Then his voice came slowly, distinctly and with great .pomposity. “Geutlemen, lam gratified.” The club raised its voice and some man yelled “liar.” No one laughed, and the pompous speaker grew ashy pale. Once more he started off, and when he got to the word gratified the club yelled “liar” at him again. Then he said very quickly, before they had a chance to yell again, “Gentlemen, I am gratified to be with you Ibis evening.” Before ho could go any further the club burst out with the stirring refrain: We believe you, wc believe you,, We believe you just now; Just now we believe you, We believe you ju3t now. The dignified and pompous speaker stood there, looking bleak and forsaken, while the members of the club leaned back in their chairs and shouted the songs so that it made the glasses dance on the table. When they had finished, the club saw their honored guest giggling like a schoolboy. For once his dignity forsook him, and in the next fifteen minutes he made as bright and clever a speech as I had ever listened to. I commend this plan to many of the clubs which give dinners, for nothing can exceed the stupidity of the average after-dinner speech. Ferdinand Ward’s Financiering. New York Tribune. In tho days when Ferdinand D. Ward was the young Napoleon of finance, a gentleman, hearing of the wonderful profits of his operations, placed $5,000 in his hands to be used in his blind pool. Then the gentleman sailed for Europe and never thought about his investment until his return, six mouths later. Then ho called on Mr. Ward. “I looked in.” he said, to see how my investment turned out.” “O yes,” exclaimed Ward, “I will ascertain tho state of your account.” He stepped to the books and pretended to look over them. Then, taking his check book, with infinite sang-froid he wrote a check for $150,000, which he placed iu the hands of the gentleman, saying: “I find that you have this to your credit. I presume you are satisfied, and would like to draw it out.” The gentleman was amazed. He left the office and went home in a state of excitement. <?hock in hand. His head was tn z. whirl; his blood was in a fever, ho slept not a minute for the night. He was trying to solve this problem: If $5,000 will produce $150,000, what will $150,000 produce? As Wprd had foreseen, the gentleman returned the next morning and deposited the $150,000 for further investment, and when the crash came the money was still there. This is the story as 1 heard it last week, and it is said to be true. ■■ ■ ' 1 •- ii—-■ ■ 11 ■ ■ i A Fortune in Beeswax. St. Louis Globe-Democrat. “Did ye ever hear of the original discoverer of the Toughnut Mine at Tombstone? Well, he was a regular tenderfoot from ’way back, and was work In’ with two pards on the clean, an’ one day he came up from the bottom of the shaft an’ says he: ‘Boys,’ said he, ‘l’m played out, and I ain’t got no more heart in this racket.. I allow as loug as I was striking anything like ore I’d stand it out here, but may ye suit on my grave •if I ain’t working beeswax,’ an’ he showed his pards a piece of rock thickly covered with a brown substance as did look uncommonly like wax. ‘Will ye take SBOO for your share?’ said one of his pards. ‘Bet your sweet life I will,’ and so

the stuff was handed over, the quit claim deed made out, and the tenderfoot lost a fortune. The thing he took for beeswax was chloride of silver, an’ the rock went $15,000 to the ton. Tell ye, stranger, it ain’t every man’s a judge of rock." • _ His death blow struck him. there in the rants— There in the ranks, with his face to the foe; Hid his dying lips utter curses or thanks! * No one will know. Still he marched on, he with the rest— Still he marched on. with his face to the foe, To the day's bitter business sternly ad ire-t: Head—did they know? When the day was over, the fierce fight done. His cheeks were red with the sunset’s glow. And they crowned him there with their laurels won: Head—did he know? Laurels or roses, all one to him now— What to a dead man is glory or glow?— Hose wreaths for love, or a crown on his brow: Dead—does he know? And yet yon will see him march on with the rest— No man of them all makes a goodlier show— In the thick of the tumult jostled and prest: Head—would you know? —Louise Chandeler Moulton, iu February Ilarper. “NATURE VERSUS DRAMA. A Dramatic Outlook Over the Faults and Failures of the Stage. English Illustrated Magazine. Because a thing has happened in real, everyday life is no reason for putting it on the stage. Ham-drum is one of the infinities. Nothing is so untrue and so nweaj as ultra-realism. You may station yourself in vheapsitie, in Regent street, or in Seven Dials, and if you are of a discerning mind, you will probably learn more vital truth about human nature in one single hour than you will learn from a hundred modern plays. The commonest street incident mky give birth to “thoughts that, lie too deep for tear:?,.” and suggest as “obstinate questionings” and' as deep perplexities as troubled the soul of or of Job. But that is no reason why a inau. % ? er should send his scenic artist to Regent street Seven Dials, and, having provided himself with a canvas and pasteboard representation of an asaspect of bricks aud mortar that !)■ not worth representing, should then engage a hundred supers to represent an aspect of. humanity that is not worth representing. No; there is but one thing that is worth representing on the stage — the heart and soul, the passions and emotions of man. All else is secondary, subservient, useful only as it helps to that end. When a dramatist has deafened and terrified us with a thousand explosions 1 e has done nothing; when he has surprised us with a‘ situation he has done nothwhen a stage manager has marshalled his thousand supers, and drilled them into graceful attitudes and imposing processions, he has dune nothing; when a scenic artist has painted for us miles upon miles of Atlantic ocean, we are yet unsatisfied, or we should bo. When a dramatist has shown us the inside of any one human heart, ho has done all. 1 said just now that the greatest passions could not and should not be rendered in exact imitation of nature, and that so rendered on the stage they become valueless and untrue. Nature has endless space and eternal time at her dioposal; she can give threescore years and ten to her weaving of a man's life; she can fill in every petty detail and elaborate to its utmost every character. But the dramatist has at most three hours to paint for you a dozen or twenty characters. Ho has, therefore, to be vivid, succinct, selective. He cannot show you all the varying aspects and truths of character; ho can only show you the most important aspects, and the most vital truths. THE WORST KIND OF A SNUB. How a Colored Preacher Hit Out at a Young Theological Student. New York Mail and Express. One time, in compauy with Rov. *J. P. Newman, D. D., a Mail and Express writer attended the largest and most prosperous colored church in New Orleans. The regular pastor, a venerable darkey, occupied the pulpit for the first time after his return from an extended vacation. During his absence a young theological student, almost white and good-looking, had officiated, and during his ad interim administrations had made himself extremely popular with the female part of the congregation. This fact having reached the cars of the white-haired, black-faced dominie, he was greatly scandalized, and it was burning with righteous indignation, not unmingled with a generous proportion of very human and untheological jealousy, that he resumed his public duties as head of his parti-colored flock on the day mentioned. It was evident the reverend gentleman was in “a state of mind" from the moment he entered the pulpit until he had announced his text, and then he proceeded to pour out the vials of his wrath on the woolly head of 4he young theological student, closing with an impassioned outburst that would have annihilated tho offending youth, at the very least, had lie been present. “Some er these hyar theologians that aint larned the underpinmn’ miricles on which this hyar gospil is built up, brethrin’ an’ sisters; some er these hyar piccaniny theologieals what aint vit outer their gospil swaddlin' clo’, brethrin an’ sisters; some er these hyar fust crap, half-ripe theologieals that hits as sure’s watermillions at er camp meetin’,’ll tell yo hit war Dan’l that swallered that thar whale—tail, belly, head, whale bone ’n ’all. brethrin’ an’ sisters; some er these hyar theologieals gits inter the places er their betters that knows ther gospils, from Jericho ter Jeruserlum, an’ they swells up, like tryin’ to slop eround, winkin’ at ther sisters when ther brothers ain’t er lookin’, till, by'n’-by, brethrin’ an’ sisters, these hyar piccaniny, fust crap, half ripe, swaddlin’ clo‘, slop eround, one eye whiskers, sweller-ups, wakes up some fitje Sunday mawnin’, an’, lo’n, behold! their britches is too big fur ’em! Yes, brethrin’ an’ sisters, their britches is to big fur ’em—an’ then, like ther old fushuned miricle, the ole man liisselt comes homo an’ stretches out his lian’ to the wanderin’, light headed sisters; an’, brethrin an’ sisters, the ole man, the belongin’ shepherd—an’ the Lord, together—saves you all from the highflyin’, miricle mixin’ theological, whose britches —bress the Lord!—is too big for him to-day!” Singing the Head Off sin Angel. New York Letter. The girls of Trinity Chapel were practicing some chorals for the Christmas service. Brother Dix is nothing if not intensely literary in his worshipful duties, and he was just tickled almost to death because he had been able to borrow some ancient music written in the missal style of the sixteenth century. A huge page of tho precious melody, with notes a big as plaques, and embellished with heads of saints and angels, was displayed on an easel in front of them. They were expected to enthuse mightily over this treasure of art and religion, and raise their voices reverentially to the mummified tune. Thero was one girl, a high, squeaky soprano, who seemed to have a vocal explosion at a certain point, .sending one note up like a skyrocket Dix was a little startled, and let her try it over and over again, but ever with the same phenomenon. “I beg your pardon, Miss Sophie,” he said, blandly, “but where do you find ihat note away up in high G!” She gazed fixedly at the ornate sheet of music, with its conglomeration of notes and cherubim. Then she emitted ate he, and said: “Well, Doctor. if I haven’t been singing the head off that bald angel every time I calS? to it!" - ——■"! Mourning “Boss” Tweed. New York Commercial Advertiser. A cheap eating house on Chatham street lias a large sheet of brown paper on its window With the following verses: “You working class, why don’t you rally, As you done iu days gone by. When your friend Boss Tweed did tarry, In the city where he died? Hi and for what I need not tell you, Workingmen for you alone, He was honest to yon always. Heaven guide him safely home.” Several additional stanzas celebrate the praise of the bill of fare. There aro a large number of baking powders in the market containing alum, and some that contain ammonia, but in proportions so moderate that they might be used in safety when proper caution is exercised. Dr. Price’s Cream Baking Powder, however, is recommended by chemists as being free from alum, ammonia and every other drug.

THE PAY’S HUMOR. The other day a precocious youngster was asked if he was papa’s boy. He answered, “Yes.” “And are you mamma’s boy, too?" “Yes,” replied Willie. “Well, how can you be papa’s boy and mamma’s boy both at the same time?” “Oh,” ho replied, indifferently, “can't a wagon have two horses?" That settled the questioner. Josh Billings was asked, “How fast does sound travel?” Ilia idea is that it depends a good deal upon the noise you are talking about. “The sound of a dinner-horn, for instance, travels half a mile in a second; while an invitation tew get up in the morning I have known to bo three quarters uv an hour goin’ two pair of stairs, and then not hev strength enuff left to be heard.” The New Literary Venture. Arkansaw Traveler. Editor to Contributor —“Your story is too long for one issue.” Contributor—“ Well, then, pnut it in two.” Editor (reflecting seriously)—“My dear sir, there will not be two issues.” Why He Went to Canada. Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph. “Mr. Smith gone abroad, Mrs. Smith?” “Yes, he is visiting Canada for ki3 health.” “Ah, what ailed him?” “Thei-e was a weakness in the spinal column of his ledger.” A Dubious Diagnosis. New York Sun. “My diagnosis of your case shows me, sir,” said a young physician, “that your constitution has become enfeebled through overwork. You need rest, absolute rest, to bring back your wasted energies to a normal and healthy condition. What is your business, sir?” “My wife keeps a millinery establishment,” replied the patient feebly. Willing to Meet Her Wishes. Texas Siftings. Mrs. Benderly on returning to her houso from a walk, went into the kitchen aud said to the colored cook: “Matilda, I hear from the neighbors that you have u>en having visitors here while I was away. That no happen again. “All right, mam. I’ll tole ae cullud gernman, what am payin P ie tenshuus dat after dis he mus call on me whY ou am in da hou3e -” A DOCTOR’S How a Pug Nose May Be Oive” a More Stylish Form by au Expert. Philadelphia Times. “The nose is simply a piece of cartilege,” said a surgeon, yesterday, “and its shape can be changed with ease. A clever Frenchman, some years ago, invented a machine for the purpose, and I have heard made a fortune by it So many people aro troubled with nose3 whose shapes do not please their owners or their owner’s friends. The machine consisted of a small shell in two parts, hinged together. It is made of iron japanned or enameled. It is in shape inside that of a perfect molded nose, accord to the type of the features of the wearer. Thus you can obtain a Roman, Grecian, retrousse, aquiline or any other shape you desire. To apply the instrument the nose is first bathed in warm water at bedtime and thoroughly heated and softened. Then it is well greased with olive oil, glycerine, vaseline or other oily substance. Finally the nose improver is fixed on and tho sides clasped together, and the wearer keeps it on all night, taking care in the morning to wash in cold water only. It is a rather painful process at first, but alter two or throe applicatiods of the improver there is no more trouble. In about a month the nose begins to take its new shape and at the end of from eight to ten weeks the alteration is said to be perfect and permanent —that is, until the patient becomes tired of that particular shape and is desirous of having another, when the same operation with another instrument is necessitated. I have known people to change their noses four or five times iu as many years. In that way a man could change the style of his nose as olien as be changed the cut of his trousers." Reminded. All heedless of the world, ui it own ill Absorbed and dumb, the heart lies, while the day And dark seem but alike: no single ray Os hopeful light breaks through, its grief to still. It lies alone and helpless: every thrill Os bitter pain which holds in it such sway Seems a sweet sign that death will not delay; But life holds strong, and with unconscious skill The mind takes note of all. Keenly the ear Hears every slightest roise. the half-closed eye Sees every pattern on the wall, each line Is cut upon the brain in figures fine. Long years elapse, one thinks the grief laid by— Asighf, a sound, tho old hard pain is here. Miss Laura M. Marquvnd, in February llarpor. THE TELL-TALE HEART. An Interesting Experiment for Young Women and Their Beaux. Allan Forman, in January Bt. Nicholas. With the aid of a pair of compasses, or a pencil and a bit of string, carefully draw two concentric half circles—that is, from the same center, and one about a half an Inch within the other. The size of the design makes but little difference, but the result is more easily seen if the diagram is as large as convenient. Divide this double half-circle in a number of compartments and in each place a letter of the alphabet, a number or a name, as the fancy may dictate; the object being that there shall be no possible mistaking of one compartment for another. Rule straight lines from each compartment to the common center. Now take a small button —a shoe-button is as good as any —and fasten a bit of fine silk thread about eight inches long to it, making a knot in each end of the thread. Now let one of the party take tho thread by the end and hold it so far above the figure that that the button shall hung about an inch and a half above the paper. Let him fix Lis mind firmly upon one of tho [ compartments and then close his eyes. Very soon the button will develop a pendulumlike motion, and before long, generally in about three minutes, it will begin to move toward the compartment of which tho holder is thinking. It really seems, at the first glance, that the button itself is influenced by the unconscious exertion of the will on the part of the experimenter. But dose investigation will reveal the fact that the hand moves with a slight tremulous motion, which, being transmitted through the thread, moves the button. Much amusement can be had by putting the name of people in the compartments, and then seeing of which one the experimenter is thinking. ■ ■ ■■ - ■ - Mrs. Gaines’s Curious Mistake. Philadelphia Record. Mrs. Myra Clark Gaines, after spending her long life in litigation arising from her father’s plurality of wills, has died and left two entirely incompatible testaments for her heirs and the •lawyers to fight over. This reminds one of the English Chancellor, Lord St. Leonard, who prepared a model will—such a perfect instrument that ho used to read it to all his visitors, and urge upon them the sacred necessity of preparing one’s will In time and depositing it in a safe filace —and then passed away, having deposited lis will in so safe a place that it hasn’t been heard of from that time to this. Hanging High, Washington Letter. Being in Corcoran Art Gallery, a day or two since, with a frienu fjv.m the West, he asked me for an explanation of the ra&iiiod of hanging the pictures. I explained the moaning of the “line.” and how the hanging committee considered that the higher a picture was the worse it was. He said that was where the East differed from the West. IjyWyoming the hanging committee consider thifftho higher a subject is the better it is. The man who is “skyed" there does not eo around abusing the committee afterwards. “Nothing Else Did Any Good.” * Os course. Because rheumatism is a dreadfully tough disease, and hardly anything on earth will reach it except Brown’s Iron Bittors. After enduring the twinges of rheumatism for years, and at last experiencing happy deliverance. Mr. John H. Pratt, of Kaybrook, Conn., says, “I derived much benefit by using Brown’s Iron Bitters for rheumatism. Nothing else did any good. •* If you have rheumatism take the hint. It cures neuralgia, headache and other nervous diseases. '

RAILWAY TIME-TABLE. [TRAINS RUN B 7 CENTRAL STANDARD TIMS.] Trains mnr’tad this, r. c., recliningchtfr car; t'in. s..sleeper; thin, p.. par! or car: turn, h.. hotel car. Bee-Line, C., C..C. & Indianapolis. Depart—New York and Boston Express, daily, s 4:00 am Dayton, Springfield and New York Express, c. <* .10:10 am Anderson and Michigan Express..ll: 15 am Wabash and Mtincie Express 5:55 tsm New York and Boston, daily s., e. c. 7:15 pm BRIGHT WOOD DIVISION. Daily 4:00 am 2:20 pm Daily 6:15 am 0:30 pm Daily 10:10 am 5:25 pm Daily 11:15 am 7.15 pm Arrive—Louisville, New Orleans and St. Tiouis Express, daily, s 6:40 am Wabash, Ft. Wayne and Muncio Express. 10:45 am Benton Harbor and Andorsou Express 2:20 pm Boston, Indianapolis and Southern Express 6:00 pm New York and St. Louis Express, daily, s 10:35 pm Chicago, St. Louis & Pittsburg. Depart—New York, Philadelphia. Wash* ington. Baltimore and Pittsburg Express, daily, s 4:25 am Dayton and Columbus Express, except Sunday 10:45 am Richmond Accommodation 4:00 pm New York. Philadelphia, Washington, Baltimore and Pittsburg Express, daily, s., h 4:55 pm Davton Express, except Sunday... 4:55 pns Arrive—Richmond Accommodation, except Sunday 9:40 tm New. York Philadelphia, Washington, Baltimore aud Pittsburg Express, daily 11:37 am Columbus and Dayton Express, except Sunday 4:35 pm New York. Philadelphia. Washington. Baltimore and Pittsburg Express, daily 10:20 pm Davton Express, daily, except Sunday 10:20 pm CHICAGO DIVISION VIA KOKOMO, P., C. A ST. L. K tt. Depart—Louisville and Chicago Express. p. c....* 11:15 am Louisville and Chicago Fast Express. daily, s 11:00 pm Arrive—Chicago and Louisville Fast Express, daily, s 3:59 am Chicago and Louisville Express, p. c 3:35 pm _ Cincinnati, Indianapolis, St. Louis A Chicago. CINCINNATI DIVISION. Depart—Cincinnati and Florida Fast Line, daily, s. and c. c 4:00 am Cincinnati, Rushville and Columbus Cincinnati anil Louisville Mail. p. c. 3:4f> pm Cincinnati Accommodation, daily.. 6:55 pm Arrive—lndianapolis Accommodation, dailyl 1:05 am Chjcago and St. Louis Mail, p. c... 11:50 am Accommodation 0:20 pm Chicago, ami *'-t. Louis Fast Lino, daily, s. and c. c.. 10:15 pm CHICAGO DIVISION. Depart—Chicago and Rock Island Express.. 7:10 am Indianapolis and South Bond Ex.. 710 am Indianapolis and South Bend Ex.. 4:55 pm Chicago Fast Mail. p. c 12:10 pm Western Express 4:55 pm Chicatro, Peoria and Burlington Fast Line, daily, s., r. c ....11:20pm Arrive—Cincinnati and Louisville Fast Line, daily, c. c. ands 3:35 am Lafavette Accommodation 10.55 am South Bend aud Indianapolis Ex.. 10:55am South Bend and Indianapolis Ex,.. 6:12 pm Cincinnati and Louisville Mail, p. c. 3:30 pm Cincinnati Accommodation 6:42 pm Indianapolis & Vincennes. Depart—Mail and Cairo Express 8:15 am Vincennes Accommodation 4:00 pm Arrivo—Vincelines Accommodation 10:10 am Mail and Cairo Express 0:30 pm Cincinnati, Wabash & Michigan Railway. (Over the Bee-line.) Depart—lndianapolis and Grand Rapids Ex. 4:00 am Michigan Express 11:15 am Louisville and Wabash Express... 5:55 pm Arrive—Wabash and Indianapolis Express.. 10:15 am Cincinnati and Louisville Express. 2:20 pm Indianapolis and St. Louis Express. 10:35 nm Cincinnati, Ham.lion A Indianapolis. Depart —Cincinnati. Dayton & Toledo 4:00 am Cincinnati. Dayton, Toledo and New York 10:45 am Connersville Accommodation 4:25 pm Cincinnati, Dayton, Toledo and New York Express 6:35 pm Arrive —Connersville Accommodation 8:30 am Cincinnati, Peoria and St. Louis.r. 11:50 am Cincinnati Accommodation 5:00 pm Cincinnati, Peoria and St. Louta... 10:40 pm Wabash, St. Louis & Pacific. Depart—Detroit and Chicago Mail 7:15 am Toledo. Fort Wav-ae, Grand Rapids and Michigan Express.. 2:1 5 pm Detroit Express, daily, s 7:00 pm Detroit through coach on C., St. L. & P. Express 11:00 pm Arrivo—Detroit Express, daily, s 8:00 am Pacific Express 11:30 am Detroit and Chicago Mail 8:55 pm Detroit through coach on C., St. L. & P. Express 4:00 am Vandalia Line. Depart—Mail Train 7:15 am Day Express, daily, p., h 11:55 am Terie llaute Accommodation 4:00 pm Pacific Express, daily, s 10:45 pm Indianapolis aud South Bend Ex.. 7:10 am Indianapolis and South Bend Ex.. 4:55 pm Arrive—New York Express, daily 3:50 am Indianapolis Mail ana Aceom ,10:00 am Cincinnati and Louisville Fast Line 3:30 pm Now York Express, daily, h 4:40 pm South Bend aud Indianapolis Ex.. 10:55am South Bend aud Indianapolis Ex... 6:42 pia Jeffersonville, Madison & Indianapolis. Depart—Southern Express, daily, s 4:10 am Louisvilie and Madison Express,p.c 8:15 am Louisville aial Madison Mail, p. c.. 3:50 pm Louisville Express, dally 6:45 pm Arrive —Indianapolis and Madison Mail 9:45 am Indianapolis. St. Louis ami Chicago Express, daily, n 10:15 am New York and Northern Fast Express. r. c 7:00 pm St. Louis, Chicago and Detroit Fast Line, daily, s 10:45 nm Indiana, Bloomington & Western. PJORIA DIVISION. Depart—Pacific Express and Mail 7:25 am Kansas ami Texas Fast Line, r. c.. 5:05 pm Burlington and Rook island Express. daily, r. c. ands 11:10 pm Arrive—Eastern and Southern Express, daily, r. c. ands 3:SOAm Cincinnati Special, r. c 11:05 am Atlantic Express and Mail 6:30 pm BT..LOUIS DIVISION. Depart—Moorofie’.d Accommodation 6:30 am Mail and Day Express , 8:05 am Night Express, daily, r. c 11:05 pm Arrive—Night Express, daily, r. c 3:55 am Mail and Day Express 6:00 pm Mooreiield Accommodation 0:10 pm EASTERN DIVISION. Depart—Eastern Express Mail, daily, s., r. c. 4:20 am Day Express 11:45 am Atlantic Express, daily, s. and c. c.. 7:10 pm Arrive—l’aciiic Express, daily, s. and c. c... 6:55 am Western Express 4:45pm Burlington and Rock Island Express, daily, s. and r. c ..10:35 pm — _ -j-- - —- Indianapolis & £t. Couis. Depart—Day Express, daily, c. c 7:10 am Fails Express 3:50 pm Boston and St. Louis Expross, p... 6:25 pm New York and St. Louis Express, daily, s. andc. c 10:55 pm Arrive—New York ami Boston Express, daily, c. c 3:45 am Local Passenger, p 9:soam Igi]iiniwli| Ju*K-rtju f 3:lsr>m Day Express, c.‘ c., dailyTT "C.2opm Louisville, New Albany & Chicago. (Michigan an.l Grand Rapids Line.) Depart—Michigan City Mail 12:4.5 pm Frank fort Aceu m rnodation s:oopm Michigan City Night Ex., daily, 5... 11:20 pm Arrive—lndianapolis Night Ex., daily, s 3:35 am Indianapolis 'Accommodation 10:00 am Indianapolis Mail 3:15 pm 11, s, u i rowra n&~ MAN^FACTUMIW °* TH ft FINPXT Atn MOST M’s *T.* !■■!■■■! Tl GIIAITVD hotel, INDIANAPOLIS, IND. Paasensrer elevator and all modern convenience* !xodmr Hotel of tho city, and strictly tirst-elas* Rates. $2.50, $5 ami $3.50 per lav. The latter rutt including bath. GEO.' D\ FFLNG.ST, Propriety*

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