Ligonier Banner., Volume 36, Number 12, Ligonier, Noble County, 20 June 1901 — Page 7
R NPT\ 7~ D Loss THE , ’QT CRZy- L By WBR T\ T o NED ? i RY STILL = Cbpyright, 1899, by J. B. Lippincott Company. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER lI.—CONTINUED. “This: In the hour I have been ‘here you have found an untrcdden way to the heart of Richard Somers. Ilknow mow that no woman was ever there before you; none will ever follow you. 1 may not be here to give you my hand —II do not know the circumstances that surround you, or even if in winning Your sympathy I am playing false—but wherever you are, remember that my soul follows, and I would keep guard over vou if I might.” He spoke with an earnestness and passion that disturbed and alarmed himself. Something like a groan burst from his lips when'he realized how far he had <*mmitted himself, and he sank back in his chair. There presently she found him, and resting her hand timidly upon his arm. she said, gently: “What would you have me answer you?” She was calm and confident now. At first she had shrunk a little from him. Her simple, oonfiding action restored to him his calmness. - j *I would have you say at what hour it is you are accustomed to close the eyes which look down upon without seeing mine.” “At nine. But what is this upon your lapel—a flower?” ‘ “A white rose for our wedding.” With pretty show of authority she drew it from its resting place and fixed it in her hair. ' , “Do not flowers belong to the bride ?”’ “Wear it in memory of me,” he said, gently. “But now I am going to insist- that you take steps to preserve those other roses which I am sure have bloomed for you. Have you a dressing-room?” ' “Yes, but I am not sleepy and I shall not desert you. Wait. Speaking of the rose, I shall sing you a song 1 love very much—that is, if I can find my guitar. Ah, here it is! Now T'll sit here—and you right there—but I wonder if I can ever play in the dark? May I not have just a little light? I won’t mind—-" “How easily you forget! It is impossible. Sing as you are; I shall not Lear any discord.” He was astonished at her swift change of mood and a new, glad note in her voice. She sang low and sweetly, with perfect control of her tones, the “Last Rose of Summer.” And then he understood better. For in her voice he read that the goul and spirit of an impassioned woman dwelt in the slender frame veiled by the shadows of the room. He was silent. Every heartache that had been crushed out of his manhood seemed to have revived under the magic of a subtle tone, an indescribable, indefinable echo. It was a resurrection of something that had died hard within him. ;
~“You do not like my singing,” she said, disappointed, when, waiting for his praise, she found him silent and thoughtful. : “Your sineinc?: Yes. But a memory! IGo to sieep now. Make yourself comfortable and leave me to keep watch. Yet stay; will You not sing over those lines again? To me they are inexpressibly beautiful.” Standing in the doorway of her dressing-room, she sang the -verse through again softly without accompaniment, waited until she was assured that he would not speak, and then passed thoughtfully' within. When she came forth, arrayed in her wrapper, she paused beside him, puzzled over his change of mood. “I am afraid you are going to be lonely,” she said. ; : “Sleep, my child, sleep; I shall not be lonely—knowing you are there.” “Perhaps I am keeping you awake?” . “Yes. That is it; you are keeping me awake!” “Well, I am holding out my hands and saying ‘good night,”” she said. He found and pressed his lips upon them. He held them so tightly and trembled so violently she bent down over him confused. One of her curls, loosened, dropped upon his neck, and another across his cheek. The mingled odor of her hair and the rose filled him with a strange intoxication. “I am sorry if I have distressed you in any way,” she said; “you have been kind, oh, so kind to me. Good night.” He still held her hands, his face bowed upon them, his form shaking with a strange emotion. “Good night,” she said again. “If I do fall asleep and you are lonely—och, sir, you hurt my hands.” “Good night,” he whispered, hoarse--Iy, recovering himself and releasing them. She crossed the room, and he eaw her, dimly, standing by the bed, as though in doubt. And then she sank softly to her knees and laid her head upon her arms, child-wise, in prayer. He arose and stood until he saw her head lifted. “Wait,” he said, earnestly; “will you not pray also for me?” “I have prayed for you already,” she answered. “Will you tell me the prayer?” “Some time, perhaps, when it has been answered.” ; He thought then that she had fallen asleep, but after awhile she spoke again. : : : “Will you let me ask you a question —of yourself again?” ~ i *Yes, if you wish.” : : “Dr. Brodnar said that you had mever had but one ambition in life, cand that you had been disappointed. ‘What did he mean?” - ~ “L once had ambition to be a great :soldier. That is all.” < . ~ “Were you ever a soldier?” ~ “Yes, an officer in the regular “And poWw?” e “I am a wanderer. A gentleman GRS o “Why did you leave the army?” “I struck my superior officer. They nse and—let me resign.” “fia . other—what became of el i G e R e T g B o oot M LU s m Wy B SRR e kel ibbnt
case; the card incident was but a pretext.” A low cry escaped the: girl. Then she said, half rising: *“You loved her?” : “Yes.” He heard her sink slowly back upon her pillow. “I thought so, at least—until now. I was mistaken in her; my pride was wounded.” He arose and paced the room. : “Tell me of her, please?”’ “She lived not far from Washington with a relative, her. parents both dead. She had some meauns of her own and frequently came into the city, where she had friends. We met, and I believed in her; but this officer came between us. She thought him rich, and I was deserted for him. She belonged to that class of women who esteem wealth the foremost object of life, women ‘who go deliberately to men they do not, cannot love, or even respect, and say in effect: ‘Here, we have beauty, youth, freshness, for sale. Take us, dress us, give us jewels and fine clothes to wear, carriages to ride in; give us a chance to command the homage of men, and all that we have is yours.” Watch for them upon your streets; all men know them at sight. God, but they pay at last! Look in when the excitement has passed and see upon their faces the frozen despair; see in the heaviness of their step the weight of a dead youth, and in their eyves eternal hopelessness. Child, child, be not deceived; love is the only gold that pays a woman. Shun them, these wretched advertisements of dishonor. Let no man come into the holiness of your life until love has sanctified the sacrifice.” He ceased abruptly, and the next instant was kneeling by her side. “Forgive me!” he cried. “Have I not told you I hold you blameless?” Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck, drawing his face to hers. Her hair enveloped and almost smothered him in a suddgn storm. Holding him thus, she broke into such an agony of grief and tears as to render him speechless and helpless. She held him in such frantic embrace that each’effort he made to free himself was defeated. When her strength was exhausted she sank back among the pillows, breathless. He bent above her unnerved. “How lonely, how barren must have been your life, that a little kindness —another’s sorrows—should touch you so deeply!” “Lonely! Speak of the persecution, the brutality, the infamy—!” “Hush,” he whispered. “No more—to me. Come, you must sleep.” Rising abruptly, he left her side. When it was that she fell asleep he could not discover, but presently he seemed to hear her deep, regular breathing, and was thankful.
And so the moments passed. The girl started up once or twice and spoke his name; but always at sound of his calm, reassuring voice sank back again upon her pillow. From time to time he went and stood above her—a spell upon him new and strange, a spell that filled him with uneasiness and vague alarm. He was no longer lonely. In some mysterious way a burden seemed to be slipping away from him, and in its place came a sense of companionship sweet and comforting. Most men discount married life in their dreams, and few ever realize the fullness of those dreams; but with him it had been different. This strange experience preceded the
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dreams. Without a day’s warning he had been plunged into the privacy of a young and modest woman’s life, had become the guardian of her honor and in a measure of her future; and in a mysterious way the divine sweetness of her soul had issued forth and enveloped him. In the chiaroscuro of the still room he could just determine the outlines of her bed and upon its whiteness the outlines of her slender figure. He was glad that she slept; in that quiet falling asleep was for him the finest tribute ever paid to his manhood. A glad, quick pulse leaped from his heart. as he realized this truth, and the words of the girl's mother, so artlessly repeated, came back to him. S
Then in the desert of his life a stranger came before his tent and asked for shelter. He bade him enter. Why should not this scene be fixed and real and lasting? Would it be possible? Would the girl some day accept it as such, yielding still the trust and tenderness she had brought to the counterfeit? Was she trusting Brodnar? Or was she trusting him? The trust was in him. He felt it instinctively; and her little white hand 1 seemed to steal forth to his again,! her arms to enfold him. What a child she was! And yet—and yet— An irresistible impulse seized him ‘fo be near her, to touch her hand, her hair, and to pass within the electric radius of her presence again, i but for a moment. He was her guardian whether she slept or awoke. A strange curiosity to be near a sleeping girl, to enter further into her life and absorb the sweetness of its innocence, possessed him. She would not know, she would never know, perhaps; and why should he not snatch from fate this one brief moment of happiness? A doubt assailed him and brought hesitation; but with an impatieat gesture he threw aside the hesitation. He would not let even himself doubt himself. And so he came and stood above the sleeper, and presently, entranced, he kneeled and saw her lying there, vague, dim and unrecognizable, but a girl asleep. Her face was towards him upon the pillow and one hand lay. upon the edge of her bed. So quietly. did she sleep she seemed mnot tol o e i L e
breathe. He watched her until a tremor shook him from head to foot, and a never before experienced confusion seized upon his mind. Instinctively he leaned above her hand and touehed it with his lips—lightly, reverently. She sighed and spoke his name, and, overwhelmed with sudden dismay, he would have withdrawn, but she seized his arms and cried out: “Light! light!” And then, brokenly: *“Oh, sir, for the first time—l am —I am—frightened!” He sank bis face beside her, overwhelmed with shame. “It is half-past three,” he said, brokenl%l;; “I must soon say farewell to you-——'” . ~ “Oh, sir, will you not light the gas?” Seeing that she still .trembled, he arose and went to his chair. “No,” he said, calmly. “But sleep on. I shall not disturb you again.” And then presently she came, and, kneeling in sudden abandon before him, placed her hands upon his shoulders, her face ciose into his. “I shall not let you leave me thinking that I do not trust you,” she said. “Oh, sir, kiss m® now, my hands, my hair, my lips if you will. I trust implicitly! I ‘trust you—yes, and more, I—"’ “Child, child, you do not know what you are saying!” He covered his face with his hand. ' “Child! No, woman! You do not understand; it is you who are the child. Listen. I was not asleep when you struck a match and, turnisg your face from me, looked at your. watch. I was awake, and I saw your face in the glass across the room.” : ~ “You should not—” “It was an accident, and T thanked God, for it has given me a living memory of the kindest friend since mother died. It is not the first time, for your picture is in the doctor’s office. He did not know that I have hung over it —fixing it in my mind—many—many times—oh, will you, will you say that you wish to see me? Have you no wish to remember me? 2” !
“Remember you? I shall carry with me forever the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, the perfume of every curl upon your head—" “But my face! Will you look upon that? 1 release you from all your promises.” ; “I cannot! I cannot!”
“Oh, sir, think what it will mean to me in all the lonely days to come, the memory of youw and the consciousness that you carry in your heart sometime the face of the girl who—!”’ “It must not be. Remember your husband’s honor! You promised to honor him. Is this the way?” “My husband! my husband!” she eried, half rising, “you have said it!”! “Frances! Frances!” » “Ah, Frances! Say it all, Frances, my wife.”
“Irances, my wife!” A passionate cry burst from the girl’s lips. : “Yes, Frances, your wife. The woman who loves you, who has loved you from .the day she saw your picture and heard your story! Oh, he never knew—he never dreamed it. Nothing can silence those words: ‘Frances, my wife.” I will look upon your face, and you shall, you shall see mine! The matches—ah, they are here!” . “Hold!” he cried, huskily. “I should be unworthy of your love and trust if| I could break my sacred promise. Look upon me if you will, but the eyes that would weep tears of joy to see you will be closed. while the match is burning. Look, if to carry in memory the living record of one face will help you, take mine, and with it, right or wrong, the love of Richard Somers.” She struck the match and held it above his lifted face, advancing her own and gazing eagerly upon him. *“Ah, again! again! My husband, my. husband,” she remurmured. “It is the face of an angel!” The match grew short and the fatal red spark was showing in the flame when there came a flash of light in the window across| the room, the quick, sharp report of a pistol rang out, and Richard Somers, reeiing, plunged through her arms face.down upon the floor. The awful silence that followed the tragedy was broken at length by the faint whisper of the dazed and halfunconscious girl. ' “Speak,” she said, kneeling over the prostrate form; “why—what is the matter?—what has happened?” Her hands found his heaé and passed rapidly over it. “You do not answer! me!” She drew slowly back from him, chilled with a great and unspeakable horror. Her hands were wet and slippery. Instinctively she knew' it was blood. She could not rise nor cry out; her heart seemed paralyzed, her throat in the clutch of an invisible hand. The door opened silently, and/ the doctor’s low voice was heard: {
“Somers, Somers, the day is almost breaking.” There was no response. He spoke again. Then the two figures became dimly visible. “What has happened?” he whispered, bending above them. He, too, felt the tell-tale blood upon his fingers as he touched the prostrate man, and, rising ' hastily, struck a match. Somers lay senseless before him, the young woman kneeling by his side staring speechlessly upon her bloody hands. His quick glance swept the room and rested upon her. The match fell to the floor and went out, leaving the scene to blacker darkness. “Remorse!” he said, in a whisper, and was still. Rallying his faculties at length, Dr. Brodnar hurriedly lit the gas, and with his stern features contracted examined the fallen man and saw a wound back of the right temple from which the dark blood was still oozing. o ‘“He has shot himself,” he said. A moment he stood, with covered face, wavering in his tracks. Suddenly the enormity of the interests at stake flashed upon him and stupor gave way to intelligent action. Seizing a towel, he wiped the girl’s hands and forced her into a chair. : ‘ “Stay there,” he said, “and on your life do not cry out or leave the room before I return. J.fo you understand 2 - “Yes,” she said, simply, and fixed her gaze upon the window. He bound the towel tightly about the head of the wounded man, lifted him in his arms as if he were a child, and passed out into the night. /A few moments later the rush of wheels was heard upon the piyeet, .. ; - “Some patient of the doctor’s is worse,” said a policeman upon acornes two squares away as the flying ve. hicle passed bl . FeliContnusdy .
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. Lesson in the International Series for June 23, 1901—A New Heaven i and a New Eiurth. o . [Prepared by H. C. Leningtcn.] THE LESSON TEXT. (Revelation 21:1-7, 22-27.) 1. And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. 2. And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of Heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. : 3. And 1 heard a gr2at voice out of ‘Heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God. 4, And God shall wipe away all tears frox. their eyes; and there shall be no more deayh, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there b 2 any more pain; for the former things are passed away. 5. And He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And He said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful. 6. And He said unto me, It is done. lam Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the eng. I will give unto him that is athiprst of the fountain of the water of life freely. 7. He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son. 22. And I saw no temple therein; for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. 23. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. 24. And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it; and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honor into it. 25. And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day: for there shall be no night there. 26. And they shall bring the glory and honor of the nations into it. 27. And there shall in no wise enter into it any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie: but they which are writtenr in the Lamb’s book of life. % GOLDEN TEXT:—He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God and he shall be my son.—~Rev, 21:7, NOTES AND COMMENTS. This is the culmination of all Seriptural teaching, and it is perhaps the clearest vision of Heaven given anywhere in all the Bible. The whole account embraees chapters 21 and 22, which may be briefly summarized as follows: The New Jeru5a1em...............21:1-5, 9-26 Blessing and Cursing...eeeeve......2l:6-8, 27 NO Nlght There. ... . i i 220-1 Heavenly Worship ..o 4,0..22:8-9 A I T O . ooty i 221021
The New Jerusalem.—Jerusalem was the center of Jewish worship. Daniel and his friends in captivity prayed with their faces towards Jerusalem. Sin has obscured the face of God from man. But sin will be finally banished from this earth, and there will be a new and a better Jerusalem where men will continue to worship God, but in a manner they never had before. For God will dwell among His people, and the harmony of universal righteousness will prevail. This reign of righteousness will mean the entire absence of sorrow and weeping. There will be only gladness and mirth. In verses 9 and 10 comes again the thought of Jerusalem as the place of worship, and the church is represented as the “bride of the Lamb.” It was a place of exceedingly great beauty. Its glory and grandeur can only be represented by visions of fine gold and all the costly stones. Nothing will enter this eity that will mar or deface its beauty. It is a significant thought the author puts in apposition the thoughts of “worketh abomination” and “maketh a lie.” Of all the abominations of earth the lie is easily leader, for it fathers all the others.
. Blessing and Cursing.—ln chapter 21 are contained two promises and a curse. The first promise is the water of life to him that thirsteth. The second is to him that overcometh, he shall inherit all things; “and I will be his God, and he shall be My son.” Sonship with such a God is surely the highest possible gift ;in even the Divine power. The curse is just as great as the promises, namely: exclusion from participation in such great blessings, refusal to even enter the beautiful city. No Night There.—Two notable things about the heavenly city are the river of water, “pure,” and ‘“proceeding out of the throne of God, and of the Lamb,” and the fact of there being no night. At the close of the day of toil comes the night of rest. Over yonder there will be no weariness, hence no need of the night—af rest. Then night time stands forflt)ie gloom of sorrow and disappointment,. The perpetual day of gladness is‘f{xe promise bsyond this vale of tears. The character of the light is God Himself, which means perfect mutual understanding and eternal peace. |
Heavenly Worship.—Two things are to be noticed concerning the worship of the new Jerusalem. The first is that there is to be worship, and the second is that this worship is not to be of the abstract right, but of a personal God. John fell down to worship the angel, a case of human weakness worshiping Divine goodness, but John was | rebuked, the angel commanding John to “worship God.” ; ' An Invitatien.-—“Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely.” Now is the time to come. In the last day “the unjust” and “the filthy” will ~have no desire to mend their ways; ~only the righteous will then be prepared to enjoy the celestial beauties. CURIOUS INFORMATION. London eats 11 tons of salt a day, Paris only four. tons. By her last census Canada had 90,000 more men than women. A vessel drawing ten feet rises two inches in passing from fresh water to salt, - ' Of 160 Irish people 34 are married, 59 unmarried and seven widowed. - English roads cost £BOO a mile to make, French £1,200, Italian enly £6OO. i : : ' Marble is worth in the rough £4 a ‘ton, and Italy exports 105,000 tons a year. o A ‘ t A sheepdog has 291/, ounces of brain, a record for dogs; but a wolf has 40 ounces or over. ' v ‘The inhabitants of St. Helena have ‘fallen from 6,444 in 1871 to 4,116 in 1900, o ~ i - On an average 270 miles of fresh railway line are buijlt each year in the United Kinpgdoss, - = = 0 ~ The ameer of ’gtgmi:,tan’s ‘mint at mmwfigfi*fl?fih
THE MILITARY POWER. Ostensible Civil Government Resting Upon Half Concealed Bayonets . for the Philippines. Secretary Root, in an interview, sets forth clearly and distinctly the fact that the presiderit’s reliance for authority in the Philippines is solely apon the military power. Secretary Root’s interview, which may be copied as the official interpretation of the president’s present policy in the Philippines, says: i v “In the Philippines the president has announced a distinet policy of governing the islands under his power as commander in chief of the army, Wwith a constant regard for the rights of the people and with the determination, as rapidly as conditions would allow, to diminish the use of military agencies and increase the employment of civil representatives ¢f his power. This policy will be adhered to, and will be extended, as occasion requires, to every branch of government in the islands.” The matter no less than the manner of this announcement is startling. The president relies upon his military power—*“his” power, not the power of a constitutional popular government, nor even the power of congress as efilarged by Justice Brown’s decision—but upon “his” power as a military dictator. The poor , makeshift of the Spooner amendment, whereby congress attempted to abdicate its powers, is contemptuously brushed aside. The president will continue to rule as the man on horseback, with the bayonet as his symbol and the Mauser rifle as his prime minister. ¢
Of course, all will be done “with a constant regard for the rights of the people,” and “with the determination to diminish the use of military agencies and increase the employment of civil representatives of his power.” That goes without saying. George 111. never intended to rely permanently upon the Hessians to carry cut his plans for ‘“the rights of the people” in the colonies; his idea also was, as far as feasible; to “increase the employment of civil representatives of his power.” In fact, he did employ the ecivil representatives of his power until the people unreasonably demanded that their power be recognized, when he was obliged to resort to the military. It was the custom of Julius Caesar and of the Roman emperors, as soon as they had benevolently assimilated a conquered mnation, to give it soma form of civil government, subject to the power and caprice of the Roman ruler.
There is little to be chosen between a military despotism, pure and simple, and an ostensible civil government resting upon half-concealed bayonets, such as the empire of the third Napoleon, for instance—and, of the two, the military despotism, plain and undisguised, is the honester and in the end less destructive of liberty. Could the seeretzfry of war in any cabinet prior to President McKinley’s have uttered such language as is attributed to Secretary Root without causing an instant investigation by congress, and, in case the president sanctioned these words, impeachmer ¢ proceedings against the president as an intending usurper and subverter of our form of government? What is the matter with congress? Has patronage hopelessly corrupted the representatives of the people? Whither are we drifting?—Albany Argus.
TARIFF AND I'RUSTS. Without Protection the Monopolis- ’ tic Combines Would Not Long Be in Existence, In the discussion of the tariff and | its ereation, the trusts, which was the ) feature of the recent Washington session of the industrial commission, ’Congressman Taylor, of Ohio, submitted certain figures which were enHightening as bearing upon the monopoly combine system. : Mr. Taylor defended the Dingley tarift law, and had no remedy to suggest for abatement of"the trust evil; yet he expressed himself as deeply apprehensive of the cost of the latter to the consuming public. He called especial attention to the recently organized steel trust, declaring that its securities now amount to $1,500,000,000, while its cost had not been one“third that amount. Nevertheless, asserted the Ohio congressman, the ‘holders of those securities would cemand returns upon them. It is the purchasers of the produaects of the steel trust, and the laborers employed by the steel trust, who must pay to the holders of inflated steel trust securities the returns demanded. This will come from the consumer in the form of higher prices dictated by the trust, which absolutely controls allimarkets. It will come from the laborer in the employ of the steel trust in the form of lowered wages accepted at the dictation of the trust, which exércises a large control of the labor market. And just as the billion-dollar trust operates to the sore cost of the consumer and the laborer, so do the smaller trusts operaté in their respective fields. _ Congressman Taylor is either of defective vision in failing to get a full and wide view.of the tariff and trust field, or else he has mnot the courage of his convictions and so declines to give them full expression. He should know that most of the trusts could mot exist without the high tariff. He should knaw that the tariff continues to enrich.the trusts at the expense of the people. He should know that the removal of the high protective tariff would also remove the trusts. And he should be brave enough to frankly ccnfront the truth and work on the people’s side. —St. Louis Republic. ‘ i
——lTlt is gratifying to find that some limitations are recognized in connection with the imperial power vested in the executive. Apparently Mr. Knox and Mr. Root shrink from declaring that Mr. McKinléy can levy taxes upon the American people which only congress is competent to levy. But as for the poor Filipinos, they hold that he dan rule them absolutely under the “military power.” He can even set up a civil government, so-called, and still remain absolute dictator by military power.—Boston Post. _ , i President MeKinley does not hanker for an extra session of congress, which, weak and pliable asit has recently been, might be rendered uns ruly by that supreme court decision.— Albany Argus. e
3 l 5" N 9 & i O": e B AB) o 4 g . [ ) 2o ¥ ,‘i"” 3, N S =z o} =4\ D \¥/ e ? . y== N \/\! 4/‘ P~ =~ g i ,—*‘t—' [/ >, / -’ 5 g —— : THE NICEST ONE. I've got the dearest dolly, And her name is Sally Poll. She used to be a clothespin " “"Fore she got to be a doll. Aunt Maggie made her for me ‘When I had the whooping cough; And she marked her face with charcoal, But it's almost all come off. Her dress Is only gingham, And she hasw’t any hair; 5 She ain’t a truly beauty, o But I tell ker not to care. = For I've got a great big family Of dollies, large and small; And Sally Polly Clothespin is The nicest doll of all. =~Gladys Hyatt] in American Agriculfurist. THE NATIONA. EMBLEM. More Than Two Years of Revolutionary Warfare Without a General"ly Recognized Flag. A national ensign was not adopted till June, 1777. A glance at the promiscucus banners under which the differeat American forces campaigned during the first two years of the revslution will be found of interest.
The first great regular battle of the war was Bunker Hill. It is not likely that there were any colors carried by the few militiamen who were hastily got together at Concord and Lexington two months before. But after the skirmishes at these places each of the colonies set up its own flag.. Unfortunately descriptions of these flags were not preserved, and the information we have is very vague.
The mest definite information as to American flags we get is in foreign journals at ports where American ships at that time touched. There is no satisfactory information as to the standard used by the colonists at Bunker Hill, fought on June 17, 1775. Indeed it has never been proved that they had any standards, though one writer says ‘“they were as various as the troops were motley.” There is a picture of the battle in the rotunda of the capitol at Washington, painted by Trumbull, the celebrated American artist of that day, in which the Americans are pictured fighting under a red flag having a white canton bearing a green pine tree. Warren is said to have reminded his troops of the motto on their standard, on one side of which was, “Qui transtulit sustinet” (He who brought us here will sustain us), and on the other: “An Appeal to Heaven.”
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This.appears to have been the Connecticut motto. An old lady told Mr. Lossing, the historian, that her father was "at the battle -and assisted in hoisting the flag. He described it to her. The ground was blue with one corner quartered by the red cross of St. George, in one section of which was a pine tree. On July 18, 1775, a standard was presented to Washington bearing the motto “An Appeal to Heaven.” On October 20, 1775, a- plan was suggested for a revolutionary flag, which was a white ground and a tree in the middle bearing the motto: ‘“An Appeal to Heaven.” It was the flag of American floating batteries. This was undoubtedly adopted by Massachusetts, and it was used on American ships. STRANGE BIRD SCHOOL. .
In Some Parts of Germany Bullfinches ' Are Taught to Sing Sweet Music by Machinery, The story of the German bullfinch is a very sad one. In 6 its native state it has a funny little chirrup, something like that of the English sparrow. It lives in the mountains, and there are strict laws against catching them or keeping them in cages. But many persons break these laws, and all over the empire are places where the bullfinch is trained to sing wonderful music. A nnely educated bird can sing from six to twelve mnotes with perfect sweetness and as smoothly as -the best human voice. Just after the little bird has come out of its:shell it i§ taken into a dark room, and there it must stay until it is perfectly trained. It receives but little food, and is by the darkness and hunger made very lonely and nervous, so that when at length it hears the sweet tones:of a harmonicon it is very much impressed and listens with all its' might. : The instrument is run by machin_ery, and the air is played ove~ and over again, and there.is no ‘ether sound in the darkened chamber. After awhile the lonesome bird seems: to awake, the vocal chords tremble, ‘and a faint sound comes from the little creature. At first it is but a weak and feeble imitation, but again and again it tries the theme until at last{ it pours forth all its soul in a clear! and perfect strain. And when this given air is learned it must try an-. other, until somgtimes four or five ‘melddies are firmly fixed upon theJ brain or memory of the young bullfifich. v iyga il r Fase P e f EE _ Ben Had Serious Doubts, When Ben’s master died they told him he had gone to Heaven. Ben shook his head.. “I ¥raid massa not ‘%'Cos when massa 20: north, or oo | PIODEN et MR LB L T ey afim‘i;; : W’*%fi"’“ £ f% SR CYILTRPRE ¥ M Ao REERE 1O
CARRY WAR-DISPATCHES. When and Whh Carrier Pigeoas Ars Used, and\What They Are " Capable of Doing. : “The New Popularity of the Carrier Pigeon,” is the title of an article by George Ethelbert Walsh, which appears in St. Nicholas. Both in war and peace the carrierpigeon has won new laurels in the past year, and its popularity as & well-bred pet and domestic messenger has become as great as its usefulness as a carrier of war dispatches where telegraph and telephone lines are not established. That so irnocent a creature as the dove-like carrier should be selected for important war purposes, and taken into the service for furthering the bloody eom-
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flicts of modern armies seems out of keeping with the aims of nature and an abuse of man's power. The pigeon is eminently a peace-loving bird and its nature is so different from that of the screaming eagle and falcon that as an emblem of war it should be a total failure. Nevertheless, the timid bird has served armies in times of need and is cultivated for its praetical - war usefulness to an extent never dreamed of for either the falcon or eagle. In a sense it is the war bird of the day. The pigeon post at Durban, in South Africa, was .the beginning of the pigeon experiments conducted in recent campaigns between the English and Boers, and scores of messages were carried from one part of the English army to another by means of the birds. Col. Hassard, of the Royal engineers, a staff officer at the Cape, had made a life study o 2 the carrier-pigeons, and before the war broke out he had established pigeon posts between most of the beleaguered cities. From Ladysmith, _ Kimberley and Mafeking Rigeons early in the sieges regularly brought messages from the English soldiers cooped up in the towns. Sir George White’s first message from Ladysmith was. carried by a pigeon, and this means of communicating with the outside world continued wuntil the number of birds in the city was exhausted. -
It was only a short time before the outbreak of the war in South Africa ‘that the English government hag decided to establish a service of carrierpigeons. In the mnavy, pigeon posts were recognized means of carrying |information as early as 1896, and there are over. a thousand birds recorded on the books of the royal navy. The first naval loft was at Portsmouth and now there are two others. In the English army -the posts have been confined almost exe clusively to the Cape, where the nature of the country makes the hom-ing-pigeon service of more value than in England. : The development of the war homs-ing-pigeon service throughout Europe has been more rapid than elsewhere, and army posts support large numbers of them, Striet laws are made to protect those in private lofts. lAS a great military camp# Europe looks upon the carrier-pigeon as a menace to the counfry if not held under strict military control. In Gers, many, for instance, every pigeon raised by private breeders must beregistered, and the pigeoan cannot be taken out:of the country or sold without permission from thé military authorities. In the event of a war, the German authorities reserve the right to claim and take possession of every carrier-pigeon in the land. In. addition to this, every fortress and camp on German soil has its pigeon service, and over $lO,OOO is appropriated annually for the support of this service. - There are upwards of 10,000 pigeons belonging to the war depart--mzf, and every bird is carefully t™ined and tested. - Yo e The United States military and naval authorities have approved of the pigeons as aids to the regular telegraphic means of eommunication, and there are several posts’' estabe lished in the west and aleng the Ate lantic coast. But on the whole thig country depends more upon private breeders for its supply of carrier-pi-geons than upon the birds already in the service of the army or navy. Our great distance by sea from all other powerful nations makes it unnecessary to arrange, for the services of ' carrier-pigeons as the European countries have done. There is little chance ‘of any foreign army invading this country and destroying the railroad and telegraph lines connecting the ‘big cities. Pigeon breeding and train‘ing have therefore been carried on in the United States more in the in‘terests of peace and pleasure. There are hundreds of enthusiastic owne in every state of the union, and prébably in no country has the «ork of ‘rearing the birds been saftended ta ‘with greater intelligefice and ' suee 3 dn’t Work That Way. : t the present day we cannot im-~ agine how a railway could exist without » telegraph line alongside, yet it is & frct that when the telegraph was reen Now York sod” Fhiadeiphie, 3 , r:;“"?“?:i* "‘)A.;-: b _,:.7-/.,»4:‘; ;.:' 2 ¥ P ;2y 2,: ’ - “fi#@ £ ~_;;i:. ';w. £y ,%éé & ’ w,_. ‘4_ e;. ;A -3 e B *t;?fi; B ?&x’%fii‘u :waf;k :«?’i:: Aot “@w&%%%&fl g v e R
