Jasper Weekly Courier, Volume 24, Number 12, Jasper, Dubois County, 24 February 1882 — Page 3

WEEKLY COURIEE.

O. DOANJC, FMlUna. , JASPER, - - - INDIANA. THE LITTLE MAN. A little man, in brand-new suit Of clothes from out the store; Nor speck of dirt nor stain of fruit His natty garments bore. 8hs53S MMl SSSeKnad'sMMS And flt he prouder than a Kluf la Ms eoesptete srrajr; Tosaehlai round the parlor swlnc Was better umm a s4a?. IB 111 Ms UWUSers MOtoM UirtMt, T"" won both Ms ImmmuT And richer In wttti oent in trust Then owner lre of land. ' Pe ta love oo u oo bousbt 'lee aloe new to for me; ied,wsaiiar. me be 'est dood bay, Aa teee'eee tee to teas; Me do an bur ate poutr toy, TO P'Mf ta hOUM. I BMMUI. 1 Me oa'jr 'tar a 1tt wua, An' tun lht in aden. An dew till dinner aw wU p'ay Jlta Domiie Hajr mm' Bon. He teja ray lose to tean, papa, Me du awar font house not far. An' Wi fell down drt hurt." An hour passed on; ta little man Brturned with race alt blood; Without cap in-dimm be ran. Between hi sohs, for brnath bard presaod. . A tale of utrtfehP told : 'At Bonnie Hay 'teipd on my foot. n eiowes nerouina wun inua. As' Atn we bof taut bold, 1 Atf fejlrri all down an' 'oiled all ound; He bn- ray fliisris ore; Me M'att b hie face, my iie be pound. Am 'Van'-new townis tore; M hit Mm lat, an' pulled he hair an narri l ever tan, Jw, ttok : him, pa, an' made him kye, ta I tt a into mkm ' Mnrper'f l'ouna JVopt. AN EAST BLOW. The summer hotel among the mountains was almost deserted. Half a dozen of thlite late -staying guests were gathered In the little parlor, for their last evening. A high September wind turned their thoughts to the desolateness of the winter month in the White Hill. Maud Wellington, always a leader in taw ami action, called to the landlord: "Come here, please. Mr. Little ; tell us bow you ever lire hero through the winter " Wa'al, you jest come up here and try one of our east blown! I tell you, you don't know anything about the maminting. You only come up here When it'tt warm and nice, and Mr. George he drives his team around, what d'ye .all it?" "Tandem!" suggested George, "Yea, tantrum: and he takes vou girts to drive, and it's all pretty. Jest let Mm be here in the winter, and he'd drive tantrum, sure enough." Wouldn't it be fun?,r asked Mand. Woulil you really take us in, if we came up next winter?" I guess most likely I could. You'd have to kinder put up with things, though. I'd be real glad to see you, mow: the winters is awful lonely!" "I am in earnest, and I will come if the rest will. I think it would be very jolly." aaid Maud. "Yea, quite too awfully ghastly jolly," murmured her brother George, Whose slang was overwhelming. The others all promised tbey would Join her if the formed a party, and the next morning they separated, and forgo! all about the plan and the promise, as iteople do. It was late in December. The holidays were approaching. Maud Wellington was restless and dissatisfied. The eeaaon had been very disappointing. Everybody was dull and stupid; Germans were tiresome, dinners more so, and she was tired of Boston and every MM in it. And all this was because a certain Thomas Sedgwick Thornton had Nut appeared in the city, as she had expected. It wan none the less true because she would hare denied it, and that he had always laughed at him, and Kft'Md to hold him in the most per contempt. She knew perfectly well that he was a hard-working lawyer in New York, with little time for holidaymaking, but she was quite unreasonable Hough to think that such trifles as business made no difference. He ought to have admired her enough to have made any sarriticea, and have made haste to continue the summer's acquaintance. It made no difference to her, also, that tberu were many others' as assiduous in their devotkm as he was remiss. He Was the Mordeoal at the gale, and she was unhappy. The wind howling round the corner of the house took her thoughts hack to the last evening in the mountains, and a sudden resolve made her spring to her feet. "Mother," she cried, rushing into the warm library, where her mother sat dosing before the fire. " I have made up my mind. We will go up to the mountains and see how they look with the snow on them." "Yon craay girl! we won't do anything of the sort?' Mrs. Wellington always made a point of seeming to oppose her daughter's plans, but she always did tost what her nbildivn told her to do. Maud wasted no words in entreaty, but coolly told her that she mutt go, without more ado. With Maud to decide was to act. George was delighted with the prospect of such a "lark;'' he had not known What to do with the holidays. Notes were immediately sent to those who had bees with thera when the proposition was made, and to several others who might be congenial spirits. When tbey haa written nearly all, Maud said, with perfect carelessness: "I suppose you wUl have' to write to that Mr. Thornton. I don't mink he It tsMjenersl hilarity,

but I am afraid ft wouldn't do to leave

him oat sod ssk all the rest who were then " "Right you arer' aaid George. "I'll send an invite to the old duffer; he's not half a bad feUow, after all Of course, be won't put in an appearance." But it is the Impossible which happens. For some occult reason, Mr. Thornton chose to join this wild expedition, and presented himself at the appointed time at the rendesvous. With the exception of himself and poor Mrs. Wellington, who looked already vkstimiaed, it was as gay a party as Boston could furnish. As usual, it was Maud who was leader and prime favorite. But she was admirably seconded by three of her friends, only a little less brilliant and daring than she. Then there were two or three society men, who would have gone anywhere that Maud and her set proposed. Little did they care for the grandeur of mountain scenery in its severe winter dress, but the, trip promised much fun and unlooked-for opportunities for carrying out certain intentions. Last and noisiest of all came George Wellington, a' Harvard Sophomore, with an equally reckless and aairb rained classmate, whom the young ladies alternately petted, snubbed and used as foils in their more serious schemes. Mr. Thornton felt out of his element, as he had done so many times during the summer. He was not keyed to the same pitch of high spirits and unceasing gayety. He was grave, quiet a man who was terribly in earnest aiiout everything that he did. From the first moment that he saw her be became fascinated with Maud, against his will and better judgment. Her beauty, wit, caprices, would not let themselves be forgotten. He was. angry with her, he heartily disapproved of hr, a dozen times a day; and then, when he was most indignant with her, he discovered that he loved her with a love which he could not reason iwav nor live flown. He was more bitterly 'enraged with her than ever to-dav, a the caw mnidlv bore them toward the mountain. He cursed himself and his fdly in having joined them. No one seemed to want ! him. Maud, with her usual perverseneso, had given him a careless greeting, and turned away to lavish her brightest amiles and merriest speeches on Gilbert Livingston, a man whom be cordially hated and despised. Mrs. Wellington alone seemed to need him. She was nervous, weak and timid, dreading the journey, and unable to control her children's madness, so she clung to Thornton with instinctive trust in hi- o!ht strength. He never dreamed, being blind as men are, that Maud saw every motion that he made, that she had so placed herself as to hear every word he poke. He only saw, with wrath and shame, that she was flirting openly, desperately, with that soulless, brainless Livingston. But even Thornton shook off his gloom when they came among the hills. The highest peaks were white with snow, reflecting the setting sun with dazzling brilliancy against the marvelous blue of the sky. It was very cold, but clear and still, when they left the cars for their drive of a few miles. Mr. Little met them with his six-horse stage: the wind hail n t left enough snow on the rising ground for sleighing, to Maud's regret. It was an exhilarating drive. The air was like wine, and made each inhalation an increasing joy. The laughter and the sweet, ringing voices of the girls no longer jarred upon him; he was a boy again himself, and startled them bv his wit and Kyty. Maud was delighted. She warmed toward him, and left poor Livingston shivering out of the sunlight of her favor. It was all going to be a Krfect success, she thought, and blessed rself for the Inspiration. The hotel, when they reached it, after the stars had come out superbly in the clear air, looked as if prepared for a siege. It was closed, except a few rooms on the ground-floor of the west and south sides. On the north and east every blind was securely fastened. " Have you had an east blew yet?" asked Maud, as they dashed up to the door. " Ho, miss, not yet," said the landlord. " 1 guess we will her, pretty quick, though. The maountings her kinder looked like it all day." " I hope it will come. I should consider our whole trip a failure If it doesn't." Mr. Little shook his head and smiled doubtfully. ' ' I guess when you' ve seen one, you won't be likely to want to see another very quick." The next day was gloriously clear. There was no wind stirring as yet. It was this stillness that roused the forebodings of the landlord. His guests had a magnificent walk, they said: they climbed part way up Starr King, and had a view a hundred times more superb than they had ever imagined it could be. It had been hard work climbing over the allpperv rocks, snd they came back to the house delightfully tired and in undiminished spirits. The general hilarity flagged not during the cosy evening round the huge open tire, and one andall pronotincea their satisfaction and delight all except Mrs. Wellington, who had not stirred from the fire all day, and who grew more and more nervous as the talk abcul the expected east blow continued. In the morning Mr. Little's predictions were verified. The city people's ears were startled by what he had so often described as the "roaring of the maountings." This strange, steadily increasing roar, which seemed so inexplicable, llled some. with alarm, some with most enjoyable excitement. Mr. Little called them to see the "churning of the clouds up the chasm," and, looking, they forgot to smile because he prtMotutowt tSeenof tbehu word at teeMmtsttstat. It waas jsVhtnotto

be forgotten, a grand, terrible sight, as the angry elouos came up, rolli ig over and over, as it eeemed, through the gap which opened out toward the east. Within the house there were hurried preparations. Mrs. Little and her sons went about making everything at fast as possible, while her husbana sad his two men went to the barns to give the cattle and horses food and water to last them till the storm had passed, for when it had reached its height, neither man nor beast could stand against it. Thornton, George and his classmate prepared to go down to the barn and help them, for the time seemed very short. Every moment the tempest increased in violence. Quick as thought Maud wrapped herself in her fur cloak, and said she would go with them. Her mother was so distressed that she would have desisted, but that she onoght Thornton's look of disapproval and disgust, she thought, and tnen nothing could have prevented her. Seising her brother's hand, she rushed out of the house. The barns were went of the hotel, some little distance down the hill. The wind carried them on as if they were straws, and drove them breathless against the building-. Maud had never dreamed of its force. When tbey were inside the barn, and the door bad been closed with difficulty, Thornton aaid to her, very sternly: " Thia is perfect folly. If you do not go back to the house instantly, you will not be able to go at all." Mr. Little said the same; the storm roared so they could scarcely hear each other even then. Maud was bitterly ashamed of her folly, bat not one whit afraid. Even Thornton could not help aduiiring even while be blamed her. He asked Little to take her and "the boys'' back to the house. He himself, being strong and large, would stay and help the men. It was the best plan. The four had a hard fight to return. Holding each other's bands, one keep

ing behind the other as much as possible, tbey struggled up the hill Once tbey fell flat to the earth, but. regaining their feet after a moment, t buy toiled on, and reached the protection of the house. Little said he bad never seen the "blow come on so fast."- There was no use in his trying to go back to the barn; the men would do what was necessary, and his strength was half used up by his efforts already. After Maud had regained ber breath she went to the window, and would not stir ' or speak. Her eyes were fixed on the barns. The others gathered round the fire in awed silence. The terror of the storm was upon them. It seemed as if nothing could stand against its violence. Mrs. Wellington was nearly fainting with. fright. She was certain that the house would go. Once. Maud turned and said, in a strained, hard voice: "Mr. Little, how long does this sort of thing generally last?" "Wa'al, it begin abaout noon to be the worst, and it keeps it up till next morning." " Ought not the men to come up pretty soon?" she ssked again, with illconcealed anxiety. "Oh yes, they'll be up directly, I guess." But they did not come. Once Maud saw three figures creep around the partially sheltered side of the building, but when they reached its front they were struck down, and she saw them crawl on their hands and knees back into the sheds. The full horror of the circumstance struck her. Calling Mr. Little, she told him what she had seen. "Then they must stay there till it Is over?" she said, in low, unnatural voice. "I'm afraid so," he answered, anxiously. "Do try to help them," she pleaded, so earnestly that the men all resolved to try, though it was of so little use. Taking a rope. Little tied all the volunteers firmly together; even thi "howling well," Livingston, as George called him, offered to help. When all was ready, they crept along the western side of the hmse with little difficulty. But when tbey reached the corner, they went down like planks. They tried again and again, and then came back into the house tired and disheartened. The short afternoon bad passed; the early darkness made the terror of the storm more awful. Maud still strained ber eyes through the deepening gloom. The storm at mat moment was at its height. Clutching the window-frame tightly with her lingers, she pressed her dusted eyes against the pane, and saw with speechless horror the roof of the large barn swept off as if it had been paper. It was all the more terrible be eauss not a sound of the falling umbers could be heard above the ceaseless roaring of the wind. It was an awful night Ho one thought of sleeping. They clustered together about toe Are in silent terror. From time to time Mr. Little spoke reassuringly. There was no danger for themselves, he said; the house was firmly built; large beams passed diagonally from floor to ceiling through the partition walls; it was not possible that tbey could give way. But the awed hearts were not easily assured. Maud alone had no thoughts for herself or the safety of the house. 8be had seen the roofless, barn, and she strove to picture the fate of Thornton and the two men with htm, without food, without fire, with no roof to shelter them, and perhaps crushed by falling timbers, for it had been too dark to see the extent of the disaster. She told no one of the right which she had witnessed. Only she and Little knew what had happened. All that was best In her came to the surface that long, agonising night Never again could she silence her better, nobler self. Very base and contemptible seemed all her wiles, her caprices, her coquetries. It had been her wild folly that had placed Tfemrtonm this danger. U stoked not delayed the mem they oould hare re

turned to the house before ft was too hue. If he were alive when morning dawned he should know how bitterly she had repented. She remembered how she had trifled with him when unee, the summer before, he had told her that he loved her more than he had ever loved any thing before or ever oould again. She had not meant to drive him away from nor; she had only meant to tease him for a little. But he bad taken it all in earnest, and now, of course, he had ceased to think of her except to despise her. If he had continued to love her, would he have been so long silent P She little knew that the man who was all sincerity could not understand the intin-

He would never care for her now, of course, and she lor.-d him with all the fores of her strong, ungoverned heart After that night of agony she could never be the same. The pale daylight dawned upon her white face. The wind died slowly down, as the sun came up the troubled sky. The ruin of the night was reveabdto the weary watchers. Three men came slowly up the hill, tired, hungry, half-frozen, but safe. They had made a comparatively warm nest for themselves in the hay. where they had passed the sleepier night. The part of the burn which sheltered them and the cattle and horses hail been uninjured, and not a man or beast had been hurt by the falling beams. Mrs. Wellington could not be induced to remain an unnecessary moment in the terrible place, and late in the afternoon the subdued party were in the cars returning to Boston. Thornton confessed that it was the moxt unc m fortable night he bad ever passed, but that he would cheerfull v have undergone far greater hardships for the reward that it brought him. Before they reached the city he had learned of the agony which the night's suspense had been to Maud, and she had acknowledged her love for him in answer to the passionate reiteration of his devotion to ber. And this was the work of an Evd Blow ! Bazar. Fleer Cleaning. There can not I think, be a doubt that for the bed-room floor dry cleansing is always the best. Water destroys the varnish on stained and painted floors, making them patchy and dirtylooking; water destroys the evennes of surface; water makes the adoption of the waxed floor almost impossible; water when it is used often percolates into the joints of the fltwr-hoards, causing them to separate and become holders of dirt; and, lastly, if water be used for cleansing, the chances are many in the course of a year that the room will be washed on some damp and foggy day, the boards will dry imperfectly, and, though at bedtime they may be to appearance dry, they will not be so entirely, while the air of the room will be still charged with moisture; so that although the sleeper does not get into a damp bed, he does get into a damp bed-room, which in some respects is equally injurious. I have seen such very bad results from damp sleeping-rooms, in which the dampness of the air had been caused by washing the floors, that I do not press the lesson I wish to enforce at all too forcibly or earnestly. When from any circumstance the floor of the bed-room cannot have given to it a varnished or waxed surface when, for example, the floor is constructed simply of deal planks it may seem to be absolutely necessary to clean the surface with water. These floors, moreover, are just the floors that hold water the longest and for all reasons are least adapted for watercleansing. How, then, it will be said, are sich floors to be cleansed? They are most easily cleansed In one dry way, vis., by dry scrubbing with sawdust The servant takes up a small pailful of clean, fresh saw-dust and, taking it out by bandfuls, spreads it on the floor, and, with a hard, short bristled brush, scrubs with the sawdust as though she were using water itself. Wlten the whole suritoe has been scrubbed in this way, she sweeps up the sawdust and finds beneath it a beautiful, clean and dry floor; or, if there be left any part still dirty, she easily remedies the defect by an additional scrub at that part When all is finished she carries the dirty sawdust away, and destroys it by burning it in the kitchen fire. White sand may be used instead of saw-dust for the same purpose, but it is not so convenient and is not so quick a cleanser as sawdust The same sand, if sand be used, can be applied several times, if it be cleansed by washing; and afterward heating it over the Are until, it is mum dry. .4ipfohN' Jourmtl new ta PHtribate Manure Farmers are often at a loss to know how to distribute the manure on a field properly. An example may help them. For instance, suppose a field of 5 acres, on which 83 toads of manure are to be drawn. Dividing 81 by 64 gives lfi loads per acre. By making four heaps of each load and placing the heaps nine yards apart, the manure will be evenly diatrttratea. ur, if be makes nine heaps of each load placing them six yards apart the result will oe the same. A cubic foot of half rotten manure weighs about 66 pounds, coarse, dry manure about 48 pounds. A load of manure la about 88 cubic feet; hence a load of half rotten manure will weigh a little over a Urn (2,016); if ooarse and dry. It will weigh 1,728 pounds. Thera are 4S.660 square feet in an acre; if you multiply this by the number of pounds you want to spread on eaoh square foot and divide the produot by 1,018, tlw quotient will give she nnmbsr of loads rsquirad of half rotten amujnm).--OWs farmer.

FnseiAL An LrrauBT.

Tennyson's jliwwt pan ton is now, as It has years, his clay pipe. for Or. Mary WaUur . reosatiy eaBsst upon President ArtJuuC InadaUtsmta her masculine salt ales dons a fatfkian ame sux bat and carries a The last two aoquisittoas she baa essayed until this season. Walt Whitman, the post, has a temporary place of strsat down in the Jersey woods in Camden County, where be lives weeks at a time, every day in the open air. He told a friend latere that the year just ended was the best he jsd spent since his paralysis, nine yeans ago. It speaks well for oosnaitution and climate that the Rev. W. B. Aisnrsndat and wife, veteran missionaries is the Sandwich Inlands, In recently esaVabfsaV ing their golden weddiag oould aaythet of their children and twenty-nine grand children they had only lost one, an Infant grandchild, in fifty years. James W. Wallace, the actor, won No. 7 shoes. Edwin Forrest wore Vow 8, and had an unfounded fancy that Ma left leg was the shorter. Booth wean No. 7). MCuUoogh wears No. 8. Pauline Markham wears No. 8, and Lydia Thompson a Si. Maty Anderson wears a Mo. S, ana frequently wishafl that it was a No. 8. Paul wears a No. Mr. Whittier, in a note, ssys that fox the but two or three years the state of his health has compelled him to deottnt all requests for poems for pubUo oeeasions. " The spirit willing but tiat flesh is weak.' Apart from this, at the age of seventy-four, thepoetkxlmaduns is likely to be out of order, and the sound of the grinding is low. Dr. Holmes is an exoeption; he, despite hk years, oould do admirably what that asks." At Mr. G. W. Chuds' reception, ta conversation with the wife of a distinguished American diplomat and after t little quizzing as to the chut of people who were likely to fall down and worship him, Oscar Wilde fat -credited with the remark that he came to America tt teach us " to recognise the beautiful hi nature." " Then," said the lady, " you had better out your hair shorter and your trousers longer." Pkiladeipkin Times. The Washington correspondent of the Philadelphia Press writes: " FranV dent Arthur is working very hard, snd going to bed very late. The other day, five o'clock in the morning found him just leaving his desk, and ne is often at work till one or two o'olock, so many are the demands upon his time during the day and evening. When Sunday comes the usher looks the door, and the day is strictly observed, so far as quiet and absence of general callers an concerned. SUHUaVliB. Most great singers are secosed oi taking some slight stimulant but few know now much it takes to prims a sJJaneee Zslsj80sw 3LreJJPss5sCssJn? Jss5Ka5s5s5ps There seems to be a degree of compensation in all experiences. 4 have no fear of the future," said an afflicted man, "because I have the rheumatism all the time, and I really amat be where it Is warm." "Your arguments are sound, my son, and delivered with force," said the clergyman to his boy, who had been bangmg away at his drum for an hont or more; "but we have beard quite enough on that head." Bottom Turn$criptl Just this moment we cannot tidnk of anything more satisfactorily sssthetfa than a hot buckwheat cake decorated with "golden drip," It just " knoehs the tarve" off all the sunflowers i stewed in black and yellow paint. J aaven lugtmer. The story of a phantom weaver at nightly work in one of the Lowell aune is said by the Mail to have base "made out of the whole cloth." Tm JfesThssi probably lost the thread of the story. Herald. Some loommous appearaaeea probably caused him to spin this yam. Botton Commercial Bulletin. The managers of the rexneylvania Railroad are engaged in a work at philological reform. They want the people along their line to me the word "station" instead of dep9t." This would be an improvement bat ta thie, as in all other respects, Atlanta la ahead. We boldly allude to passenger station a the "oar sbsd."Adlania Constitution. "Cannot some giant muni invent a mow shovel that will fold up and look like an umbrella when a man la osnejat at work in front of a hones by a psssnag friendr-Pto. Hold on, husk, saw silenuam; we are about it just forming, "The limited, capital stock thirry-flve ssbAr shares nearly all sold; apply earhr asm often. Boston Pott. In New York reosntfy twety-ive roung men were given instmutluni ha the Trade Schoou oapieloal sad scientific plumbing. Tne ntastiiai part, it is presumed; oonsistsd In tearing up fifty dollars' worth of neorhag to repair a forty-oent leak widen wan located hi another place, while the scientific portion comprised the art of making out tas bilL JWii i menu . OAS. How stash a ana Is ns ohl sfasest - mstsnoe. bath a sole smut west ih have been tanned, both ays nsje cobblers. Both yet left ana rhjfeS, ih need s mate to be eoaaesh And boui are made to go on Tey doui acea aewnax saltan;; ort aiesoti. turn sate nsoJU, AMwaa Withmoest set Mlrst; wfhnsn A&BWmi W?! ess t asa. nsunoasae aunt as

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