Indiana State Sentinel, Indianapolis, Marion County, 16 May 1894 — Page 5

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THE INDIANA STATE SEXTINEL, WEDNESDAY MORNING, MAY 18. 1S94-TWELYE PAGES.

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In unity there is strength. In congeniality happiness. To encourage and circulate pure literature is to mutually aid each other to a higher and better lite. OFFICERS. President W. S. Koktndoffer, MonteVallo, Mo. First Vice-President William A. Clark, box 9j, Danville. Ind. Second Vice-President Mrs. Sarah Caylcr, Arcana. Ind. Recording Secretary Miss Dora "Wentier, Pleasant-ave.. Indianapolis. Ind. Corresponding Secretary Miss Mary ff. Loudenback. lock box 15. Westville, O. Treasurer Miss Jennie Rhodes. Ft. Jlecovery, O. EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE. Robert N. Moulton. Wintersviile, Ind. Miss Mary E. Swaim, COS Vermiliont.. Ianville. IM. J. F. Ungt-r. Peru. Ind. Mrs. Minnie Wtbb Miller. Altoona, Kr.s. William E. Fulk. IWatur. Ind. OBJECTS. Soc. 2 of Art. 1 of Constitution The Objects of this club shall he to establish eociability, strengthen good morals in Eoeloty, increase a desire fur mind improvemer.t and literary attainments and to extend the work of reformation. MEMBERSHIP. Sec. 1 of Art. Z of Constitution All persons of goxl moral character, who are interested in the objects of this organization, and are willing to work in accordance therewith, are eligible to membership. Sec. 3, Art. 2 All members of the It. Ii. C. in ro id standing t-hall share equally in its benefits and privileges, and it thall be tho duty of each member to Eeek, by example, by word and by pen to promote the objects and interests of the club. Sec. 7 of By-Laws Members changing their place of residence shall notify the recording secretary of such change. GENERAL. Sec. 10 It shall be the duty of all officers to report to the president, from time to time, or upon his request, the progress of any business before them, cr of the condition of their respective offices, and shall advise him of all matters pertaining to the interests or welfare of the club. We urge the host of readers of this page, who are icvers of truth. to acquaint themselves with the objects and merits of the Howard literary, and lend us your aid by Joining the club. Address the corresponding secretary, with Btamp, as per above, and any desired information will be cheerfully given. The Iloward literary has neither salaried officers or contributors, and depends wholly upon its merits and principles for Success. Members only are entitled to the rare benefits of our book catalogue. All letters for publication must ba carefully written on one side of the paper only, accompanied by the writer's real name and address, as well as the nrnn de plume, and plainly addressed to the editor. C. l. Stewart, Sentinel office. Indianapolis, Ind. Members in renewing their subscription for The Sentinel will please be sure to send 51 (the subscription price of the paper) to the Iloward literary treasurer, as the club is allowed a small commi3Fion for the benefit of the treasury. Prompt action guirantfd. Dues for 1834 are 25 cents, payable during January and February to the treasurer. nonr.RT in rts. Written for the Howard Mternry CInh ! "Hen A rd -. In a clay-built cottage about two miles from the town of Ayr. Robert Burns, the national bard of Scotland, was born Jan. '27,, 17."f. Hor" in this 'land o' brown heath and shaggy wood," "a blast o Janwar' wind bl"W haus-!' In on Robin." but thJ sturdy Scotch blood in his vr-ins withstood the blasts cf r.oivts and tho poverty of his birth, and he lived to become one cf the greatest of r.ritish poets. Burns was a great read'T. and although surrounded by extreme poverty, manage, to read many of the 1- st books cf his time. It is said that while h- was working or walking to lulor he studied the works of Shtkspeare, Pope and Bamty. in his nineteenth year be studied" mensuration and surveying and als. increased his reading by perusing thworks of Thompson and Khetstone. In JTl. in order to become a flax-dresser, he removed to Irvine, but tire destroyed his shop and he returned to his father's home penniless. His stay in Irvine is only noteworthy from the fact that it was here the poetic fires within him Were rekindled by the reading of Ferguson's poems. Soon after this incident the death of his father occurred, and, together with his brother, he took a sublease of a farm called Mossgitl, in the parish of Mauehline. in order to support the family. His attempts at farming were a failure from a linancial point of view but literature gained some of its masterpieces while he was engaged in the humble occupation of tilling the soil. For him the ploughing of those fields A more ethentil harvest yields Th.tn !heav-s of rain; Songs flush wtih purple bloom the rye, The plover's call, the curlew's cry Sing in his bram. At this time his poverty, among other Causos, led him to think of leaving his native land, and he resolved to emigrate to Jamaica. Then It wa-s that he wrote hi3 "Farewell to Scotland." The followinglines will give an idei of the state of his mind: The tcloomy niht is gathrln;c fat. Loud roars the wild, inconstent blast; Yon murky clul is foul with rain, I ne it driving o'er the plain. The Jiurvter now haji lerc the moor. The scattfrei coveys meet secure; While here I wander, pressed with care, Along the lonely bank of Ayr. Farewell, old Col la's hills and d.ile. Her heathy moors and winding vales, The soenes where wretch I fancy rove?. Pursuing p.ut unhappy loves. Farewell, my friends! Farewell, my foes! My peace with these, my love with th se. The bursting tfsaxs my love dealare; Farewell, the bonny banks of Ayr. From the subscription of an edition of fcis collected poems he obtained 2'), and thus secured passage for Jamaica. While blilcg to avoid arrest a. friend brought

j to him a letter which had been received I from the blind clergyman. Dr. Thomas I Blacklock, who ranked high as a man

and poet. This letter, which spoke in favorable terms of the poeiry of Burns, may be regarded as the turning point in his career. About two months after this episode he went to Kdinborough. and there in that renowned center of learning the poor farmer of Ayr found his stock of early reading of much benefit. .V new edition of his poems was brought out, from the sale of which he realized the ?mi of f.'iOO. He then gave up the idea of emigrating and resolved to make his home in Scotland. The n xt summer was spent in a journey through the country of his birth, and some of his poems refer to the places visited at that time. With a part of Ids money he pun based a tarm at EHisland. Dumfriesshire, where he moved with his bride. Jane Armour. The same year that he came to the farm he accepted the appointment as guager in the system of excise, by which the taxes on distilled liquors were collected. From KUisland he removed to Dumfries, where he was .'uKancod to the position of exciseman. Here he was led into temptation whi h he could not resist. He soon became one of the many convivial spirits that frequented the Globe tavern, and his early death, at the age of thirty-seven, was the result of a night of excess at this favorite rendezvous. Overpowered by the effects of the liquor he had Imbibed, ho fell asleep on his way home, ami a fatal chill following, the seeds of a rheumatic fever took possession of his weakened frame. Ho was removed t a fishing hainl't near Dumfries in th hope that the s,..i 1ir milcht benefit him. hut lie soon returned to hi home, where he died on the 21st of July. I'M. He was buried with military honors by the Dumfries volunteers, to which body he had belonged. Burns's powers of poesy were attune! to the common things to the "wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower," the "eow'rin. ihn'rous beastie." the "ilk. happing bird," the "ourie cattle" or "silly sheep;" to the common people to "John Anderson, my Jo. J.,hn." "Tarn O'Shanter," "Poor Mailie" or the "Jolly Heggars." With his limpid rhymes he has rendered immortal the land that give him birth, for Who can forget Caledonia, while "Bonny iMon" and "Irvine Water" run? The "Castle o' Montgomery" may crumble into dust. "Willie's Mill run by steam instead of water, and "Nance Tinnock's Cottage" become a black and dilapidated hovel, with no "Jolly Beggars" to go there to tippl but while there are lovers of the common things and events of life, while there are those who do not bow down in abj.-ct submission to form and caste and Mammon, Burns will continue to be read bv those who worship tine worth, though in humble guise. Burns was a true lover of nature. His ardent love for the things about him, the dear common things of every-day life, the tiny bird and wounded hare, the streams and woods, the brae. and moors, the flower that fell beneath his ploughshare, all these were not too insignificant to escape his notice. He has forever immortalized them in lines that are known and sung wherever the English language is known. Speaking of this characteristic of the poet. Helen Hunt in her "Burns's Pilgrimage" uses the following beautiful language: "The scenes he pictured in rhe realms of poesy, ;he braes and moors, rivers and sky. the mists of the sea. the far-off island peaks, are as beautiful, elusive and luring now as then, and in the inalienable loyalty of nature bear testimony today to their lover. "This is the greatest crown of the hero and the poet. Other great men hold fame by failing records which moth and fire destroy. The places that knew them know them no more when they are dead. Marble and cahvas league in vain to keep green his memory n hi did not love and consecrate by his life blo.Ml, in fight o.- song, the soil where he trod. But for him who has done this who fought well, sang well the morning cloud and the wild rose and broken blades of grass under men's feet become immortal witnesses; so imperishable, after all, are what we are in the habit of calling the 'perishable things of this earth.' " I.ongfellow 'has beautifully expressed this sentiment in the following lines: He N the greatest artist, then, Whether cf pencil or of pen. Who fellows nature never man A artist or as artisan Pursuing his own fantaeies, "an touch the human heart or please. Or satisfy the noMer needs. As he who sets his willing feet In Nature's footprints. Hunt and fleet. And follows fearless where she leads. It is this quality of Burns, the art of portraying naturally the common feelings and common events of every day. of throwing a glamour over and around such apparently Insignificant objects as the field mouse, the timid hare, or the simple daisy, that renders h's poetry enduring, while that of other and more aspiring writers has long since been forgotten. With what tenderness and compassion doe3 he look upon the modest dalsv, whose life is cut short by his ploughshare while working in the field at Mossgiel. One can almost see with what reverence he stoops to pick up the frail blossom with his toil-begrimed hands: Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, Thou's met me In ah evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stane Thy plemler stem; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonny gem. The flaunting flowers our garden yield, HiKh sheltering woods and wa's maun Bhie'l ; But thou, beneath the random bleld O' clod or Btano, Alo.n the hitie stlbble tleUl Unseen, alone. There In thy scanty mantle clad. Thy snowy bosom sunward spread. Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; And now the share upturns they bed And low thou liest. The fate of the daisy has a deep lesson for him, and in its death who knows not but some vision other than human made known to him his own early demise, for does he not add: Such is the fate of the luckless b.ird. n life's rough ocean luckless starred. 1'uskillful he to note the card O' prudent lore, Till billow rage and gales blow hard. And whelm him o'er. Even thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate, That fato Is thine no distant date: Hiera ltuln'm piouKh-shaxe drive felat

Full on thy bloom. . 'Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight Shall be thy doom. Some five months before this while plowing in the same field he turned up the mouse and its nest, and from the simple incident wove into song a lesson to prove that human foresight is but poor dependence: Wee, sleekit. eow'rin". tim'rous beastie. Thy wee. bit housie. too. In ruin; Now thou's turned out for a' thy troubl To throle the winter's sleety dribble. An' canreuch cauld; But mousie, thou art no thy lane. In proving foresight may be vain; The best laid plans o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley. An' lea'e us nouirht but grief an' rain For promised Joy. With what loving'pity does he speak of the birds and beasts exposed to the storms and hardships of winter: listening, the doors and winnocks rattle, I thought me on the ourie cattle Or silly sheep wha' bide this brattle O' wintry war. And through the drift, deeplalring sprattle. Beneath a scar. Ilk happing bird. wee. helpless thing. That in the merry month o' spring. Delighted me to hear thee sing. What comes o' thee?

Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing An' close thy e'e? He mourns with tender feeling the fate of a wounded hare that some idle gunner had crippled. Oft as by winding Nith, I. musing wait The sober eve. or hail the cheerful dawn; I'll miss the sporting o'er the dewy lawn. And curse the rurflan's aim, and mourn thy helpless fate. With the matchless music of his rhythmic utterance he has rendered indelible the name of the plain and common Scotchman, and we would all like to shake hands with "John Anderson" or the "Cotter." John Anderson, my Jo, John. When we were first acquaent Tour brows were like the raven. Your bonny brow was brent: But now your brow is held. John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessincs on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my Jo. His description of the evening service at the Cotter's is very beautiful and gives us some idea of the sturdy Scotchman's adherence to the religion of his fathers whom persecution could not turn aside from their religious belief. Would you not iike to Join the Cotter's circle around the ingle nook Saturday night? The cheefu sapper done, wi' serious face They round the imrle form a cirlee wide: The sire turns o'er with patriarchal grace The bisr ha-hitle a nee his father's pride; His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. His lyart ha ft et s wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in 'Ann glide. He wails a portion with judicious care; And "!yet us worship God:" he says, with solemn air. The deeper and richer p irt of his nature was ailly awakened when the lyre of love was touched by '"Highland Mary." How exquisitely and tenderly h- writes of their fai well. Who can read of their betrothal and their parting without tears. How rapidly thy must have fallen as he penned these lines: Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' M .n t grm cry. Green b. your woods, and fair your flowers. Your waters never drumlie! There simmer first unfaeld her robes. And there the longest tarry: For there I took the last farewell O' my sweet Highland Mary. But with him lur memory is ever given : O pale, pale now, those rosy lips 1 aft h'.'e kissed sae fondly! And 4-lesed for aye tiie sp irkaiv-r glance That dwelt on me sae kmly! And mouldering now in silent dust The be,,rt that lo'cd tv.e dearly; F.ut still within my bosom's c.re Shall live my Highland Mary! But it were better, far better, for he;thai "rest on the star-lit sh ire." With th " divine gift of poesy Hums has forever enshrined the river that flows past her resting place: How pleasant the banks of the clear, winding Devon. With green, spreading bushes and flowers bloom Iner fair. But the bonniest flower on the banks of the l). von Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. Flow gently, sweet Afton! among the grctii braes. Flow geatlv, sweet river, the theme of my lays! My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream ; Flow cently, sweet Afton! disturb not her drca m. Is there anything more touchingly beautiful than the. lines, especially the last. "Flow gently, sweet Afton; disturb not her dream.'" Surely in that peace beyond the grave, where surcease and sorrow conie not. neither bitter tears nor anguish of soul. "Highland Mary'" mut't Vie now, with the shinning light of peace upon her brow. And in that exquisite poem addressed to "Logan Water." while one reads the lines he can almost imagine that he sees the tear-stained face of the bride as she addresses her plaint to the running water. O. Began, sweetly didst thou glide Tiie day I was niv Willie's bride; And years synsyne ha'e o'er us. run. Bike I.oan to the simmer sun. But now thy flow'ry banks appear Dike drumlie water, dark and drar. Far, far frae me and Began braes. During the lament for the departed lover and husband the bride breaks out in these passionate woids of reproach and calls for revenge upon those in power, who are the means c f stirring up strife and warfare: O woe upon you men o' stat That brethren rouse to deadly hate! As ye make many a fond heart mourn Sae may it on your head return! How can your flinty hearts enjoy The willow's tear.- the orphan's cry? But soon may peace bring happy days. And Willie hämo to Dogan braes. How it must fire every true Scottish heart when he reads Hurns's "S-ots, wha ha'e v.'i" Wallaco Bled." What martial ardor there is in those lines, and written by him who was only a member of the Damfries volunteers. Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled, Scots, whom I truce has often led. Welcome to your gory bed Or to glorious victory. Wha for Scotland's kintr and law. Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa" Caledonia! on wi' me. Iav the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every blow: Liberty's in every blow! Forward! let us do or die! There is one ballad of giod fellowship, probably the outcome of Tarbolton and Caledonia club, or of the Dumfriesshire and Galloway hunt that Is almost as familiar as "Home, Sweet Home." Should auld acquaintance be forgot. An' never brought to mln'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, An' days o' lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne. We'll take a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. Carlyle, speaking of Burns, says: "His writings were in a rustic dialent, known only to a small province of the country he lived In. Had he written, what he did write, in the general language of Kngland I doubt not he had already become universally recognized as being or capable to be one of our greatest men. That he should have tempted so many to ienetrate through the rough husk of that dialect of his, is proof that there lay something for from common within it. He has gaJned a certain recognition, and is continuing to do so over all quarters of our wide Saxon world; wheresoever a Saxon dialect is spoken It begins to be understood, by personal Inspection cf this and the ether, that one of the mst considerable Saxon men of the eighteenth century was an Ayrshire peasant named Robert Burns. You would think it strange if I- called Hums the most gifted British soul we had In all that country of his; and yet I believe the day is coming when there will be little danger in saying so. Burns's gifts expressed In conversation are the theme of all that ever heard him. Jeweled duchesses In IMinburg'h and waiters and ostlers at country Inns alike testify to his magical powers. All kinds of gifts from the gracefulest utterances of courtesy to the highest fire of paasionata

speech, loud floods of mirth, oft Wallings of affection, laconic mphasis, clear Piercing Insight, all was In him. The chief quality of Burns Is the sincerity of him. So In his poetry. in his life. The song he sings is not of fantasticalities; it is of a thing felt, really there; the prime merit of this, as of all in him. and of his life generally la truth. The life of Burns is what we call a great tragic sincerity, not cruel, far from that; but wild, wrestling naked with rhe truth of thing3. In that sense there Is something of the savage In all great mtr. Although there is much In the private life of Burns that we cannot commend, yet when we attempt to judge his life, come down to measure the man. we cannot balance the scales so nicely, as with orher men. We find a nature far different from the ordinary. There is that in him. whether Imbued from the stern poverty of his early life or the state of society with which he was brought Into contact, or from some warring element in his own being, we cannot say, hut certain it is that he whs vanquished in the battles he fought against his own nature. "It Is easy." gays William Winter, "to judge and condemn the sins of a weak, passionate humanity; but when we think of such creatures as Edmund Kean and Robert Burns we ought to consider what demons in their own souls those wretched men were forced to fight and by what agonies they expatiated their vices and errors."' With broad and deep sympathy for human kind In all their misfortunes, wdth singular compassion and pity for the fate of bird, and beast, and flower, yet at the same time Burns lacked that element of character that enables one to overcome temptation and trial ane to conquer the warring passions tha: are found within the breast of every earthborn child. "H does not seek to conceal his own infirmities, he does not fear to reveal them, and It Is this truthful sincerity of the man that we admire." We must recognize how much there was in his own nature to cope against, and how very weak he was to withstand Ohe influence of environment and his own vacillating nature. In judging such a soul we can do no better than to apply his own word9 as addressed to the "Unco' Good:" Then gently scan your brother mxn. Still gentler, sister woman. Thouph they may go a kennln wrang. To step aside is human. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us; He knows each chord, its various tone, Bach spring its various bias. Then at the balance let's be mute. We never can adjust it. What's done we partly can compute. But know not what's resisted. Th soul of min is an intricate piece of mechanism inclosed in a perishable casket. To measure the hights and depths of its longings and aspirations, its sorrows and joys, to understand the trials and temptations that assail it, that are overcome or in turn conquer, and thus bear down the soul into the sordid dust and mire, to judge of what is done and what resisted this is indeed far more than can tie accomplished by human Intellect. Thre is One. onlyOne, He who rules the clouds and the planets, the earth and the children thereof, who has dominion over all things Ho alone can measure the human heart, peer Into its secret chambers and lind out the inner man. With readers in general, with men of right feolintr anywhere. w-e are not required to plead for Burns. In pitying admiration he lies enshrined in all our hearts in a far nobler mausoleum thin ;hat one of marble; neither will his works, con as they are. pass away from the memory of mm. While the Shakspeares and Mlltons roll on like mighty rivers through the country of thought, bearing fleets of traffickers and assiduous pearl-fishers on their waves, this little Valolusa. fountain will arrest our eye; for this is also of nature's own and most cunning workmanship, bursts from the depths of the earth with a full, gushing current into the light of day; and often will the traveler turn aside to drink of its clear waters and muse among1 its rocks and pines'. How sweetly our own "Hoosier laureate" sings of Durns, whom he. resembles more than any other writer that has come after him: Sweet singer, that I lo'e the malst O' ony, sin' wi' eager haste I smacket bairn-llps owcr the taste )' hlnnied sang; I hail thee, thomrh a blessed ghaist In heaven lane;! Tn fancy, a wi' dewy e'en, I part the clouds aboon the scene Where thou wast born, and peeratween, I see nae spot In a" the Hielands half sae green And j n forgot! I see nae storied ca-stle hall, Wi' banners flauntin' ower the wall. And serf and page In ready call, Sae grand to me As ane pulr cotter's hut, wi" all Its poverty. Thero where the simple daisy grew, Sae bonnie sweet, and modest, too, Thy lilt in filled its wee head fu' ' sic a grace. It ave is weepin" tears o' dew Wi' dmopit face. Frae where the heather bluebells fline Their sangs o' fragrance to the spring, To where the laverock soars to sing. Still lives thy strain. For a' the birds are twittering Sang like thine ain. And aye. by licht o' sun or moon. By banks o' Ayr, or lonnie Doon, Tiie waters lilt nae tender tune But sweeter seems Because they poured their limpid rune Through a" thy dreams. Wi brimmin' lip, and lauehln' e'e. Thou shookest even Grief wi' glee, Yet had nae nigsart sympathy Where sorrow bowed. But gavest a' thy tears as free As a' thy gowd. And sae it is we lo'e thy name To see it bleeze wi' sic a flame. That a' pretentious stars o' fame, Maun bling asklent. To see how simple worth may shame Their brightest glent. Helen Hunt Jackson closes her "Burns's Pilgrimage" with the following beautiful and tender linos, and the reader will pardon the writer for using them, for he can lind no better with which to close this article: "Does he think sadly, even in heaven, how differently he might have done by himself and Earth if Earth had done for him then a tithe of what it does now? Does he know It? Does he care? And does he listen, when, in lands he never saw, great poets sing of him in words simple and melodious as his own. "For now he haunts his native land As an immortal youth. His hand Guides every plow. He sits beside each inple nook. His voice Is in each rushing brook, Each rustling bough. "His presence haunts this room tonight, A form of mingled mist and light From that far coast. Welcome beneath this roof of mine! Welcome! this vacant chair Is thine, Dear guest and ghost!" "BEN ARDYS."

Odes In Ilrerity. ' " LIFE. Life's clock the time to toll Hangs up within my soul, While nightful hours tick on Till dream awake 'tis dawn. DEATH. life's clock no time to tell Hangs up within the cell. While deadly hours ebb oa Till judgment day is come. ETERNITY. Life's clock Is wound again, llanos up within God's reign. While time forever rolls Through our angelic souls. -"Ha pola." I Care Dyapepaln, Constipation and Chronic Nervous diseases. Dr. Snoop's Restorative, the rreat Nerve Tonic, by a newly discovered principle, also cures stomach, liver and kidney diseases, through the nerves that govern these organs. Book and samples free for 2c stamp. . DR. SIIOOP. Box X. Racine, .Wis. ,

ROBBED BY HIS OFFICER.

SUCH IS THE KATE OF THE ni'SSIAX SOLDIER. A Miserable, Half-Starved and Sickly Specimen of Mnnhoort In the Czar's Defender, Plundered by III Superior, Who Joins the Army for This Purpose. With the exception of the regiments of the guards a mere plaything of the czar the. Russian soldier, says Spare Moments, is a miserable-looking object, sickly," and dressed in a uniform out of all proportion to his stature. He is wretchedly paid, always half-famished, and, in fact, appears more qualified to be defended than to defend. Une lias not to go far to find the reason for this. The Russian commanders have, almost in every instance, nought their positions, not in the hope of proving useful to the state, but with an eye to the liches which will accrue to them in the share of plunder from the government and from their unfortunate subordinate. Forage, equipments, remounts, and, lastly, the soldiers' rations offer ample scope for plunder, and these are ihe Bources from which fortunes are amassed. By regulation each battery must possess fifty-eight horses, and the government provides the commander with the funds for the purchase of that number. As a matter of fact, however, only forty horses are purchased, returns showing the expenditures for the full number are forwarded to the cDnimisfsariat department, and the difference finds Its way into the eommander's pocket. A somewhat similar system is followed in regard to the forage. The horses are kept on short allowance of hay and oats; the soldier, unable to obtain the requisite supply of forage from the proper quarter, is compelled to make up the deficiency by theft from neighboring peasants. Each soldier is entitled to one-iuarter of a pound of meat, three pounds of black rye bread, one-third of a pound of groats, and 1 farthing with which to buy such luxuries as salt and pepper. Even this scanty table furnishes its quota to the commander's pocke:. In the first place the contractor for meat by means of a tempting bribe procures the acceptance of an article of the worst quality, and not infrequently substitutes horse for ox flesh. In order to permit of the still further gain the commanders direct the dough to be well watered, and the bread Issued to the soldiers is consequently of the worst possible quality, pasty, and half decomposed. The Hour saved by the watering process is accumulated and disposed of to private persons. The regulation quantity of groats regulates Itself into about one spoonful. Reduced by hunger ami starvation it is n wonder that every Russian soldier suffers severely from one form or another of dyspepsia. In no other army are such cruelties practiced upon soldiers as in that of Russia. The thrashings are interminablo, and even trumpets and other musical instruments aro made use rf in those castigations. I have known a man to be thrown under a horse's feet for s me imaginary offense and I well recoil. t a case where a single blow of a list f an officer ruptured the, drum of a man's ear and rendered a man daf for life. Children at Table. There is one thing that a ch'ld should be taught from the time it is old enough to sit up in the company of its elders, and that is a refined code of table manners that no future influence can change in any way. It is hard to overcome the habits of chiblh'od, even thoujrh the associations of youth are entirely different from those that left their mark on tho lirst y urs of existence. Therefore to instill correct demeanor one must begin when the baby brain is unfolding and receptive. -No one can estimate how very much a person is judged by the sort of conduct which characterizes the prosaic, eating and drinking that is part of the daily routine. The graceful handling of a fork, the dainty way of sipping one's soup, the knowledge cf what this, that and the other table ornament is for. stamp a man or woman at once as being used to pood so doty and is the greatest help to the awkward anil the shy. No matter how lovely a woman may be, if she eats with her knife the illusion is dispelled, and, no matter how great or honorable the man, if he will persist in drinking out of his saucer his fame counts for naught. It is the little things of life that either condemn or elevate us in the opinion of others, and table manners are as essential a part of the education of a gentleman or gentlewoman as the deeper lines of thought and learning. A mother cannot be too careful with her child in this particular. Teachers of dancing and deportment may come In later years, but the lirst rudiments of table etiquette should be engrafted while yet the baby sits in a high chair and does not know a fork from a spoon. Philadelphia Times. Artificial ?Inrlle. Marble is now so closely Imitated by chemical means that there is often great difficulty in telling the imitation from the r.alnnl stone, says the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. By a new process limestone or chalk may be converted Into the nature of marble of any tint or combination of shades, while the specific gravity is lnci eased. On the surface of the water bath used for the velnlng there Is sprinkled a varnish composed of ssquioxide, especially when the turpentine is broken up by the addition of soap. After the stone is dipped in turpentine it Is immersed in solutions of sulphate of iron, copper or zinc, separate or in combination. The difference in shades Is obtained by varying the period of immersion and the order of tanks used. Copper and iron sulphate give dark colors, zinc and iron alternately prive light yellow, while the use of the three consecutively gives dark yellow and brown in variegated tints. After being1 treated in the sulphate baths the stone Is immersed in a. warm-water bath to fix the colors, all air being meanwhile expelled. Tiie color Is said to permeate the full thickness of the stone, wJiich is afterward dried in an oven. The next step is an immersion in an indurating bath of solution of sulphate of zinc, which so closes up the pores and hardens the stone that it acquires nearly the density of natural marble, and is then ready for polishing in the ordinary way. Sold 111 Wife for r,. Benson's Mines is a North' Woods hamlet, forty-five miles from Carthage. The prettiest woman in Benson's Mines is Mrs. Joseph Kipp, wife of a laborer, mother of two children, and a lady who carries her heart in her hand. Her husband is forty years old, while she is a few years his junior. All the woodsmen in the hamlet admired Mrs. Kipp, and foremost among them is John Burall, a th'ifty Frenchman. Mrs. Kipp too admired Burall and declared her love for him. But Kipp was wily and was ever In the way of his wife's lover. Burall finally boldly went to Kipp, told him of his infatuation, and demanded to know for what price the treasure could be obtained. The husband spurned tht- offer at first, declaring that all the woodsmen in the kingdom come did not have enough money to buy the beautiful Mrs. Kipp. Hut Burall admonished him to consider and at a future time tell the pair of bis conclusion. At the next meeting Mr. Kipp, while intimating that his Wife was the dearest creature on earth, offered to part with her and all of their household furniture for the sum of 55. Iiurall quickly pushed the money into Kipp's face, and a few minutes later Albert Droppo. justice of the peace, drew up a bill of sale, and Mrs. Kipp and Mr. Burall were happy. Kipp left shortly afterward for Syracuse. Utica Observer. Dr. Price's Cream Baking Powder World's Fair richest Medal end Diploma. ,

Too Fast

in ruininrrt clothes, un-making them that's the trouble with the washboard. But it's going now and going fast, to join the spinning-wheel. Women find it doesn't pay to rub their clothes to pieces over it. They can wash better with

Pearhne. Less work, less T-1 .1-

rilD, ruD, ruD. I nai s ine moacrn way ui warning safe, easy, quick, cheap. No wonder that many women have thrown away the washboard. C?kt A reddlers and some unscrupulous procers will tell you " this is as good as" OCilU or "the same as rearline." IT'S FALSE rearline is never peddled, . m an(i j y0ur rrocer scads you something in race of 1'carline, be lt BaCK honest-Wifcrf. 373 JAMES PYLE, New York.

THE LITTXK TERROK. How Baby Amused Itself and Others on the Street Car. It was a very cunning little child. Just beginning: to talk. say3 the New York Herald, and Its mother manipulated it so as to show its sweetness to the bst advantage for the rest of the passengers. The lady who sat beside the mother on the cross Feat of the car smiled at lt, the woman opposite chirped at it. the man across the aisle let lt play with his cane. Amid all these attentions the little one crowed and laughed and squirmed around In the very ecstacy of pleasure. Bvery now and then, however, the child turned toward the lady next to it and regarded her with fixed admiration. Finally it put out its chubby hand and cautiously felt her nose through her veil. Then everybody looked at the nose and saw that it was very red. Conscious of this observation the woman with the nose got red cheeks and a red neck. The nose in the meantime lighted up like a beacon, greatly to the delight of the baby, who grabbed at it under the impression, evidently, that the noje had been colored up for its especial enjoyment. Titty:" cried the child, trying at the same time to take hold of the nose. The unfeeling man with whose cane the baby had been playing grinned as he picked up the discarded stick and. the mother tried to choke the baby eff with kisses. The other women smiled sweetlyall but the woman with the red nose. She was mad enough to bite the child's head off. But the little innocent lgan to pinch its mother's nose, and make a mental comparison between that organ and the nose shining through the veil. This was certainly odious. But the closer the infant studb-d the two noses the more satisfied it appeared to be that Xhn red nose was the prettiest and most desirable. So it playfully grabbed the red nose once more, to the equal discomfiture of the owner of the nose and the owner of the baby. At that point the woman with the nose arose and made for tho door, the baby began to yell with disappointment. and the spectators laughed merrily. A Sailor und n Wlitte near. There is an old sailor named Jake, recently returned to San Francisco from an Arctic cruise, who has made up his mind not to go on another whaling expedition, no matter what happens. The reason is this: On one occasion during his late voyage Jake was on watch in the night that is, as much night as it ever gets up there in summer. The sun had been down about an hour, and would rise again about an hour later. It was a beautiful night, as the ship lay there in the ice, and the air soemed scintillating with a phosphorescent glow that penetrated everywhere and made no shadows. On all sides the pack Ice lay c lose to the essel, and reached for miles in every direction, broken occasionally by a large berg or the faint outlines of another ship. The silence was profound; it seemed to produce a roaring sound like the waves of a distant ocean. Such surroundings will put a person in a semi-comatose state, from which the slightest sound will awaken him with a start. Jake suddenly saw something white in the eloom. climbing the ma-st. His tirst impulse was to jump to the deck, but before he could act upon it the white object crawled through the lubber hole, and Jake then saw that it was a polar bear. Jake realized that he was in a most dangerous position, and began to think of means to escape. He called to the watch on deck below, but they couldn't hear. He tried to get out under the canvas, but the beast grabbed him and pulled him back. It began thumping him. and every time Jake attempted to move away it would growl. Suddenly his eyes lighted on a rope hansring to the deck just back of the cradle. By this means he thought he could reach tho deck. To swintr himself free was but the work of an instant, but the bear made a jump and caught hold of his foot. But a few vigorous kioks freed him. and then began a nw terror. Perhaps the rope was not strong and would breaK. or he might miss the stay, and swing against the mast and ho dashed to death. The moment in the air seemed years filled with horror, and several times Jake wished he had taken his choice with the bear. To grab the st:iy and hold on was most difficult, and twice Jake's hands slipped and almost lost it. When he reached the deck he looked up, and saw the rope swing back to the cradle, where the bear grahl d it. It tried to do as it had seen Jake do, but hnd no sooner swung clear than it slipped and fell to the deck. The crew had bearsteak for breakfast. San FranCisco Item. 1 1 o iv to lie llnppy and Travel. How to be happy when traveling consists in not only making the best of everything, but. as far as possible, arranging one's belonginers so that they are most comfortable, writes Isabel A. Mallon In the .May Ladies' IIme Journal. One's gloves must be whole and neatlooking. but should not be assumed for the lirst time, and the same law applies to one's shoes. It Is always desirable to have a veil, a fresh-looking one, even if it is not put on until one Is near one's haven. Then, if the face looks a little dusty or the eyes a bit tired, the thin tissue or net will hide the imperfections. In addition to the bag which holds one's jewels and toib-t belongings there is wisdom In having a small bag in which to keep one's ticket, checks, keys and the amount of money that it is thought will be necessary. It is never wise to carry more mony than you wLll absolutely need, for a pur.se overtlowing with notes and silver is confusing, and very often small pieces of silver are lost; notes are not proierly counted. Jammed In merely to get them out of sisjht, and at the end of your Journey you cannot understand just how your account stands. Have your umbrellas strapped together; put them in the rack above you. and if you are going a long distance remove your hat and hang It on the hook, prepared for it. Your sachel will be quite safe in the rack, unless it should contain very great valuables, and then it will be wisest to put it just beside you where it can easily be seen. - W n m Ii I Ii sc (ilovra. The so-called washing gloves are an excellent choice for utility purposes all summer, as thev can be cleaned once and again by washing them in water that Is more than warm, but not scalding hot, using a bit of pure white soap In the process. It Is best to wash them upon the hands, as the chamois Is less likely to shrink in drying. Wash and then rinse in clear water, and dry by rubbing with, a Turkish, or other soft.

Too Slow in making clothes, this was. It had to go. And yet people thought it a pretty good thing in its day. Some of them couldn't believe, all at once, that there was anything better. Just so with every improvement. The old way always has some benighted ones who clinsr to it to the last.

' wear, no ruinous i J f U J rough towel. For kid gloves of liarht color that are but slightly soiled, but not stained, there Is no better mode of freshening than to wind a bit of oiled silk around the finger, rubbing vigorously to remove all traces cf the mar. Any woman who tests this easy way cf cleaning kid gloves will b sure to keep thereafter a :lp of the silk in her possession. A quarter or even an c!gh!Ti of a yard is quite enough to purchase at once, as in fancy dry goods houses, where it is sold, lt is kept moist in a 'arge roll and is thus very pliable. Moisten the silk, however, when tisine, as one does a postage stamp. Philadelphia Ledger. CBAfKKIL AMI tiUAClOtS. The Deantifal Queen of Port agnl Battle of Flower at Lisbon. The que?n of Fortgual Is really a handsome and queenly appearing woman. Our party went riding or day when as th palace was approached we were notified that her majesty was about to take hr afternoon drive. In a minute or two she appeared. She proved to be tall, graceful and gracious and with as attractive a face, person and bearing as one may easily meet on a thron or off it in ar.y country. Sh was driving a team of four-in-hand horses and of course sat on the box seat. They were spirited and restive, but she hdd them lirmly in control and found time to recognize us all w were a party of over thirty in so doing. Sh was kind enough to slacken her speed that we might pass lur again oa the road. The inevitable rhfcgraph fiends were of course in our party, and they undertook to get a snap-shot at this royal young woman. It was a piece of risky manners on their p;irt, but it did not displease the lady. On the contrary, she smiled anew and brought Tier horses almost to a halt to ail th-ir purpose. Here was a woman who was indeed every inch a queen in person and In bearing and who held the reins of hr four horses with a wrist of steel to all appearance. She rode in, or rather on, a handsome modern carriage. We saw later the state carriages of the monarchy for many generations. They are ail carefully preserved. Som of them look more like liarnum Bailey's circus vehicles than anything rise. Others nre only curious from their antiquity and quaintness of form. The queen appeared a day or two later in what is known here as "the battle of the flowers." It is the Lisbon commemoration of the end of lent. Kvery one tums out in a carriage decorate! with flowers and cften laden with the same, which are thrown from each occuiant to those in the procession about him. It reminds one of the coaching parados at Bethlehem and North Conway in the way the carriages are decorated, only there are several hundreds of them and of all shapes and slzf?. Every horse and turnout is made available, and every kind of decoration is resorted to. One man painted his horse a Inght yellow and drove him about. The flower adornments were very gay and some of them very tasteful. The camellia 1 the most plentiful flower at this season, and it is highly abundant. The queen sat In a barouche in a white silk, with heavily puffed sleeves, with an arrangement of flowers all about hr, and finely decorated horses. She did not drive this time. One would have expected much enthusiasm for so beautiful a woman, but it was not minifested. though sh smiled and bowed very sweetly along he whole line. The Portuguese, I Infer, are t ither not a happy or not a demonstrative people. In the midst of all this din and gnyety rain, which as been realized at intervals for three days, came down heavily. It must have injured many costumes, but it was borne with philosophy. Boston Herald. ArtiMlc I'oitters In Franee. The two forms of advertising that the French excel in are posters an 1 window display. The gxl ta.cte exhibited in these two directions makes a walk along their streets a b licht and an art treat. The Parisian, poster owes its a ttra tivenss to bld drawing and subtle, though oftentimes startling, handling r color. No matter what the article advertised, a girl's figure is invariably introduced. Usually the size of the poster ia large, but never is it attempted to portray a complicated design. A broad, sketchy effect and a dazzling scheme oj color are relied upon to do the business. The best artists do not disdain to design, for the lithographer. In the window of a swell art store on the Boulevard dea Capueines I noticed the original f a poster that had been used for the 31ollr Itoupe. I was curious to know how much such a thing could be worth after duplicates had been on every dead wall in Paris. The price was l.Z"0 fraju s (J21u. but it bore the signature cf Cherot, who is the acknowledged master of the poster art in France. Each example of bis work that issues from the lithographing press la worth more than is asked for a copy cf a high-class magazine. There are even places in Paris where c.li.-ciors buy jsters, and the best examples cost from 3 francs C.O cents) tip. Posters without the lettering are still tnore highly esteemed and cost about ten times as much. Bare examples frequently command fancy prices. Oheret, luillauin-. Fraipont, Camis, Choubrac, Faria, Verneau. etc., are the best known designers, and the connoisseur looks for the signature on a street advertisement as naturally as he would for the artist's name oa the painting hung at the sabn. No better example could be given to the extreme to which this art has been carrie,! abroad than the Her exhibition which, is now being held in Brussels. A special building is given up to it, and people pay their admission fee. wander alut through the various rooms and study the different examples critically, just as we should do at an exhibition of the Water Color society in NVw York. Printers' Ink. Mnnll I'vrr. Fairy fJodmother (genially) "Which do you choose f..r your infant daughter beauty or wealth?" Young Mother (pleadingly) "May sha not have both?" Kairy godmother (authoritativelv) "They never go topether." Street & Smith's F'ood News. reronnI. A yourp lady of seventeen summer., highly educated, refined, and of prepossessing appearance, desires to form, the acquaintance cf s-me nice young man, whom she wculd advise, if trouble.! with dyspepsia, to use that treat blood purifier, Sulphur Biura.