Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 February 1882 — Page 2

AT EVENING. Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold, The sweet Young grasses wither on the wold And we.O bOTd.have wanderedjfrom the fold: But evening brings us home. Among the mists we stumbled, and the rocks Where the brown lichen whitens, and the fox . i\ j Watches the straggler from the scattered flocks; The sharp thorns prick-us, and odr tender feet Are cut and bleeding, and the lambs repeat Their pitiful complaint. O rest Is sweet, When evening brings us home. We have been wounded by the hunter’s darts, Our eyes are very heavy, and our hearts Search for thy comtng-when the light departs At evening bring us home. The darkness gathers. Threugh the gloom no star Rises to guide us. We have wandered far, Without thy lamp we know not where we ar6 • , At evening bring us homel The clouds are round us, and the snow-drifts thicken. O thou, dear shepherd, leave us not to sicken In the waste nlght-our tardy footsteps quicken. evening bring us home.

TWO DOZEN BUTTONS.

Betty'sighed. Now, why she should have sighed at this particular moment no one on earth could tell. And it was all the more exasperating because John had just generously put into her little, shapely hand a brano-newslo bill. And here began the trouble. “What’s the matter?” he said, his face falling at the faint sound, and his mouth clapping together in what those who knew him but little called an “obstinate pucker.” “Now, what is it?” Betty, who had just began to change the sigh into a merry little laugh ripnling all over the corners oi the red lips, stopped suddenly, tossed her head and, with a small jerk noway conciliating, sent out the words: “You ueedn’tj insinuate, John, that I am always troublesome!” “I didn’t insinuate—who’s talking of insinuating?”cried, John thoroughly incensed at the very idea, and backing away a few steps, he glared down from his tremenduous height in extreme irritation. “It’s yourself that’s # orever insinuating and all that, and then for you to put it on to me—it’s really abominable.” The voice was harsh, and the eyes that looked down into tier’s were not pleasant to behold. “And if you think, John Peabody, that I’ll stand and have such things said to me,you miss your guess—that’s all!”,cried Betty, with two big red coming in her cheeks, as she tried to draw her little erect figure up to its utmost dimensions. “Fofever insinuating! I guess you wouldn’t have said that before I married you v Oh, now you can, of course!” “Didn’t you say it first, I’d like to know?” cried John, in great excitement, drawing nearer to the small creature he called “wife,” who was gazing at him with blazing eyes of indignation; “I can’t endure everything!” “And if you bear more than I do,” cried Betty, wholly beyond control now, “why, tt\pu I’ll give un,” and she gave a bitter little laugh and tossed her head again. \ And here they were in the midst of a quarrel! These two who, but a year before, had promised to love and protect and help each other through life! “Now,” said John, and he brought his hand down with such a bang on the table before him that Betty nearly Skipped out of her little shoes—only she controlled the start, for she would have died before she’d let John see it—“we’ll have no more of this nonsense!” His face was very pale, and the lines around the mouth so drawn that it would have gone to anyone’s heart to have seen their expression. “I don’t know how you will change it, or help it,” said Betty, lightly, to conceal her dismay at the turn affairs had taken, “I’mlsure!” and ste pushed back the light; waving hair from her forehead with a saucy, indifferent gesture. That hair that John always smoothed when he petted her when tired or disheatened, and called her “child.” Her gesture struck to his heart as he glanced at her suuny locks and the cool, indifferent face underneath, and before he knew it he was saying—- “ There is no he help for it now, I suppose.” Oh, yes, there is,” said Betty, still in the cool, calm way that ought not to have deceived him. But men know so little of women’s hearts, although they may live with them for years in closest friendship. “You needn’t try to endure it, John Peabody, if you don’t want to. I’m sure I don’t care!” “What do you mean?” Her husband grasped her arms and compelled the merry brown eyes to look up to him. “I can go back to mother’s,” said Betty provokingly. “She wants me any day, and then you can live quitely and live to suit yourself, and it will be better all around.” Instead of bringing out a violent protestation of fond affection and remorse, which she fully expected, John drew himself up, looked fixedly for a long, long minute, then dropped her arm, and said through white lips very slowly: “Yes, it may be as you say, better all around. You know best: and was . gone from the room before she could recover from her astonishment enough to uttter a sound. With a wild cry Betty rushed across thd room, first tossing the $lO bill savagely as far she could throw it, and. flinging herself on the comfartable old sofa, broke into a flood of bitter tears —the first she had shed during her married life. “How could he have done it? Oh, What have I said? Oh, John, John!” The bird twittered in his little cage

over in the window among the plants. Hetty remembered like a flash how John and she filled the seed-cup that very morning, how he laughed when she tried to put it*in between the bars, aid when she couldn’t reach without getting upon a Chair, he took her in nis great arins, and held her up, just like a child, that she might fix it to suit herself. And the “bits” that he said in his tender way, they had gone done down to the depths other foolish Tittle heart, sending her about her work singing for very gladness of spirit. And now! Betty stuffed her Angers her into her rosy ears to shut out the bird’s chirping , “If he kneiv why I sighed.” she moaned. “Oh, my husband! Birthdays—nothing will make any difference now. Oh, why can’t I die?” How long she stayed there, crouched down on the old sofa, she never knew. Over and over the dreadful scene she went, realizing its worst features each time in despair, until a voice out in the kitchen said, “Betty!” and heavy footsteps proclaimed that some one was on the point of breaking upon her uninvited. Bstty sprang up, choked back her sobs, and tried with all her might to compose herself and remove all traces of her trouble. The visitor was the worst posible one she could have under the circumstances Crowding herself on terms of the closet intimacy with the pretty bride, who, with her husband, had moved into the village a twelvemonth previous, Miss Elvira Simmons had made the very most of her opportunities, and by diut of making great parade over helping her in some domestic work, such as house-cleaning, dressmaking and the like, the maiden lady had man agedjto supply her other vocation, that of news-gatherer, at one and the same time, pretty effectually. She always called her by her first name, though Betty resented it; and she made a great handle of her friendship on every occasiou, making John rage violently and vow a thousand times the “old maid” should walk! But she never had—aud now, scenting dimly, like a carrion after its own prey, that trouble might come to the pretty little white house, the makemischief had come to do her work, in devastation had really commenced. “Been crying!” she said, more plainly than politely, and sinking down into the pretty chintz-covered rocking chair with an energy that showed she ueaut to stay,aud made the chair creak fearfully. “Ouly folks do say that you and your husband don’t live happy—but la! I wouldn’t mind—l know’ ’tain’t your fault.” Betty’s heart stood still. Had it come to this! John aud she not live happy! To be sure they didn’t, as she remembered with a pang the dreadful scene of words and hot tempers; but has it gotten around so soon—a story in everybody’s mouth. i With all her distress of mind she was saved from opening her mouth. So Miss Simmons, failing in that, was forced to go on. ‘An’ I tell folks, so,” she said, rocking her self back aud forth to witness the effect of her words; “when they git to takm’, so you can’t blame me if things don’t go easy for you, I’m sure?” “YoiL-tell folks?” repeated Betty, vaguely, and standing quite still. “What? I don’t understand.”

“Why,that the blame was all his’u,” cried the old maid, exasperated at her strange mood and her dullness, “I say, says I, why they couldn’t no one live with him, let alone that pretty wife he’s got. That’s what I say, Betty,*' And then I tell ’em what a queer man he is, how cross, an’—” “And you dare to tell people such things of my husband?” cried Betty, drawing herself up to her extremest height, and towering so over the old woman in the chair that that she jumped into confusion at the storm she had raised, and stared blindly into the blazing eyes and face rosy with righteous indignation her only thought was how to get away from the storm she bad raised, but could not stop. But she was forced to stay, frr Betty stood just in front of the chaii, and blocked up the way, so she slunk back into the smallest corner of it and took it as best she could. “My hus> band!” cried Betty, dwelling with pride on the pronoun—at least, if they were to part she would say ic over loviugly as much as she could till the last moment; and then, when the time did come, why people should know that it wasn’t John’s fault—“the best, the kindest, the uoblest husband that ever was given to a woman. I've made him more trouble than you can guess; my hot temper has vexed him—l’ve been cross, impatient and—” “Hold!” cried a voice, “you’re talking against my wife!” and in a moment big John Peabody rushed through the door, grasped the little woman in his arms, and folded her to his heart, right before old maid and all! • “Oh,” said Miss Simmons, sitting up straight and setting her spectacles more firmly. “And, now that you’ve learned all that you cau,” said John, turning round to her, still holdiug Betty,“why —you may go!” The chair was vacant. A dissolving view through the door was all that was to be seen of the gossip, who started up the road hurriedly, leaving peace behind. “Betty, said John, some half hour afterward, “what was the sigh I don’t care now, but I did think, dear, and it cut me to the heart, how you might have married richer. I Ibuged to put ten times ten into your hand, Betty, and it galled me because I could not.” Betty smile andd twisted away from his grasp. Running into the bedroom, she presently returned, still smiling, with a bundle roiled up in a clean towel. This she put on her husband’s knee, who stared at her wonderingly. “I didn’t mean,” she said,unpinning the bundle, “to let it out now, but I

shall have to. Why, John, day after to-morrow is your birthday!” j- “So’tie!” said John. “Gracious! has it come round so soon?” “And, you dear boy,” said shaking out .before his eyes a Jretty brown afiair, all edged with Silk ofthe bluest shade, that presently, assumed the proportions of a dressing-gown-«-“this is to be your present. But you must be dreadfully surprised. John, when you get it, for oh, 1 didn’t want you to know!” John made an answer he thought best. When he spoke he said, perplexed, while a small pucker of bewilderment settled between his eyes: “But I don’t see, Betty, what this thing,” laying one finger on the gown, “had to do with the sigh.” “That,” said Betty, and then she broke into a merry laugh that got so mixed up with the dimples and the dancing brown eyes that for moment she could not finish; ‘Oh, John, I was worrying so over those buttons! They weren’t good, but they were the best I could do, then. And I’d only bought ’em yesterday. Two whole dozen. And when you put that $lO bill in my hand I didn’t hardly know it, but I suppose I did give one little bit of a sigh, for I was-sojiroyoked that I hadn’t waited buying’ them till today.” John caught up the little woman, dressing-gown aud all. I don’t think they have ever quarreled since—at least I have never heard of it.

A Mob’s Vengeance.

Owlngsville Courier-Journal. On last Wednesday Samuel Ramey shot John Smith, in the upper portion of the county, from the effects of which Smith died on Friday. The most iuteuse feeliug was manifested against Ramey, who was captured after compelling offiers to shoot him, aud brought to this city. Great fears were were entertained that he would be taken from jail aud lynched, but the mob not coming Saturday night they were hot looked for last (Friday) night. But to the surprise of all they came. About 1 o’clock this morning a band of thirty-two well armed men went to the residence of the jailei, James Maury aud got the keys. After the door was unlocked they went to the cell in swhich Ramey was confined, opened it aud called him out. He responded readily, and came out cool and collected. He was then blindfolded and his arms tied behind him. In response to the inquiry if he wanted to pray, he replied in the affirmative, and, kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the jail, prayed tor three or four minutes, after which he asked of the mob how they were going to kill him, aud they replied by throwing a noose over his head, saying they never shot their men. He was* then placed on a norse behind the man who put the noose over his head, aud taking Robertson with them, they went just outside the city limits to a large white oak tree, iu J. M. Richart’s pasture, where, after giving Ramev permission to pray again, they asked him why he bad killed John Smith. His reply was Smith shot at him first, with a single-barreled pistol, in the back room of Smith’s house, and tried to shoot him the second time with Ramey’s own gun, and started agaiu into the house for his (Smithes) rifle before he (Ramey) did any shooting. This, however, is not true. Ramey killed Smith without any warning or provocation. Ramey was then asked at- veral other questions, to all of which he gave ready answers. One of the party then blimbed the tree, and the loose *eud of "the rope that was around Ramey’s neck was thrown to him. The rope was tightened around Ramey’s neck by the man in the tree, aud two men grabbed him on each side to raise him high enough for the man above to fasten the rope. Before raising him again the spokemau of the crowd said: “Sam. your end is near; you have but a moment or so to live. Have you anything to say as your last words before you go?” To which Ramey replied. “Nothing except I hope tbe lord will have mercy on your souls as well as mine. I have prayed for forgiveue -s for you and myself, too." You have placed yourselves in my shoes. If lam a murderer, you are in the same fix. May the Lord God have meny on your souls and mine, is my prayer.” He was then hoisted by the men below until bis feet were at least four feet from tbe ground, when the rope was fastened around the limb, and those below let loose of him. As he was being pulled up he said: “Lord have mercy on me; Lord have; mercy on me.” When let go his weight, the giving of the limb and stretching of the rope let his feet touch the ground, and he hung there for seven miuu‘es exactly, when the tree was agaiu climbed, and three men took hold of the body aud raised it about two and half feet fropi the ground, and the rope was again fastened to tbe limb. Iu less thau a minute one of tbe party examined tbe pulse, etc., and, finding him dead, said to the captain of tbe gang: “All right; that will do. You can go,” aud orders were at once made for the men to mount aud Robertson to leave. He died without a struggle, and never pleaded for mercy a single minute, but said he knew be mhst did, and would try and reconcile himself to R. The body bffng all the mprniug until about 9 o’clock, when the coroner holding the inquest cut it down. The verdict of the coroner's jury wat: “We, ol the jury, sum , .ed, to hold an inquest on the !*• 'd body of Samuel Ramey, fiud Ihat he came to his death by banging, and that the hanging was done by a body of armed men, none of whom are kuow’n to us.” \l

A Wicked Missionary.

Several vague dispatches, it will be remembered, were published in July last, reporting that a terrible massacre had taken place at Taputeopea, one of - -1 A ‘ \ : ,

the islands of the Gilbert group, situated between latitude 1 degree south and 2 degrees 30 minutes north, longi tude 172 degrees and 174 degress and 30- minutes east .This., slaughter of n&tives wjas conducted ufader the direction of Kubu, a native of the Sandwich Islands, and ao ordinary missionary from one of the.. proselytizing societies having its headquarters at Honululu. The following details are given by a reporter of the Ban Francisco Chronicle, who visited the American schooner Pannonia, which has lately returned from a cruise among the Line Islands and Fiji. The man Kabu went to Taputeonea in the Hawaiian Government steamer Storm Bird, about two years ago. He succeeded in converting a number of the natives—in fact a large majority of them. As recompense for his evangelical labors he received quantities of copra (dried cocoanut), pearl and turtle shells, which he sold to the trading schooners belonging to Sydney, which cruise in the South Seas. In March last his demands became so exorbitant and oppressive that the people living on the south side ot the Island refused to meet the calls. Kabu armed his followers with guns, clubs and spears, and attacked the perverts. In the attrocities that followed, as related by a survivor, to some white men who live on one of the Islands to the north of the group, all the old instincts of cannibalism were aroused in these fiends. The women were outraged, and their bodies, with tjiose of young children, were eaten. After tne cravings of these inhuman wretches had been satiated, the bodies were piled up in a house, and the ghastly funeral pyre was fired by the hand of the miscreant Kabu. When the British schooner Elizabeth was at the Island the decomposing remains were still visible, emitting a horrible stench. In July the Storm Bird again visited the Gil bert group and carried Kabu to Honululu, presumably to report on his conduct. The investigation, however, wag never made public. Kubu returned to Taputeonea by the Storm Bird, invested with the office of a Bishop. He still resides on the Islaud carrying on trade and converting the heathen.

Mark Twain’s Friend.

Austin (Texas) Siftings. He is not a rabbit at all. A rabbit is an unobtrusive little animal, who is found by scboolbays in a hole in the ground, at the end of a long track in the snow. The so called jack-rabbit is quite a different kind of soup-meat. His avordupois is about fifteen pounds and his ears measure from tip to tip, about sixteen inches. He does not burrow in the ground. He lies under cover of a bunch of prairie grass, but is very seldom found at home his office hours being between sunset and sunrise. He is to be found during the day on tbe open prairie, where he feeds on the tender shoots of the mesquite or sage-grass. He has two ways of pfotecting himself against his enemies. One way is to squat when he suspects danger, and fold his ears along his sides. By doing this he often escapes observation, as only his back is exposed, tbe color of which harmonizes with the brown of the withered grass. The other plan, that he uses when discovered and pursued, is to create remoteness between himself and his pursuer. In giving his whole attention to this matter, when necessary, he is a stupendous success, and is earnest to a faujt. When disturbed, he unlimbers his long legs, unfurls his, ears, and goes off with a bound. He generally stops after running about a hundred yards aud looks back to see if his pursuer is enjoying, the chase as much as he thought he would, and then he leaves for parts unknown. There are many fast things, from an ice-boat to a note maturing in the bank,but nothing equals the jack-rabbit. An unfounded rumor gets around pretty lively, but could not keep up witn him two blocks. When an ordinary curdog tries to expedite a jack-rabbit route be makes a humiliating failure of it. He only gives the rabbit gentle exercise. The latter merely throws up his ears, aud, under easy sail, skims leisurely along, tacking occasionally to give the funeral time, to catch up. But if you want to see velocity, urgent speed aud precipitate haste, you have only to turn loose a greyhound in the wake of a jack-rabbit. Pursued by a greyhound he will “let himself out” in a manner that would astonish a prepaid half-rate message. If he is a raobit that has never had any experience with a greyhouud before, he will start off at an easy pace, but, as he turns to wink derisively at what he supposes to be an ordinary yellow dog, he realizes that there is a force in nature hitherto unknown to him, aud his look of astonishment, alarm, and disgust, as he furls his ears and promptly declines the nomination, is amusing. Under such circumstances he goes too fast for tin eye to follow his movements, and prt'N'Uis the optical illusion of a streak of jiicu-rabbit a mile and a half long.

Not a Gocd Place for Money.

Cincinnati Enquirer. in July last George Sands, a well-jto-do farmer near Milan, took home S3OO and Handing it to his wife, requested her to take care of it. She considered that the straw bed tick would be about as safe a hiding place as she could find. Accordingly she placed the roll of bills among the straw. The money not being needed for any purpose, it was forgotten untill several* weeks after the house had been cleaned. w T ben Mr. Sands inquired of his wife if she had that money. The thought came to her at once that she had emptied that straw bed in the orchard, and, of course, tbe roll of bills had been dumped out tco. A visjt to the orchard showed that the swine aud poultry had been very industrious threi and $lO and S2O bills were found scattered by the winds and torn by the aforesaid farm stock. Careful search brought back about $230, leaving S7O as the price! of the carelessness. \

JOCOSITIES.

Maud Muller on a Winter’s dav Went out upon tne tee to play. BeneatnA er he* looks - >Of rad bangadnair, and her crftnso*locks. She straddled about from ten to tw«, And the* a hole in the toe, fell through. * -K.. % ilk On the bottom of the pond she sat As wet and mad as a naif drowned’ rat. A man with a hiexory pole went there. And Ashed her out by her auburn hair. 1 Her mother Is said to have banged her well Though just how hard Miss Maud won’t tell * 1 And hung her O’fer a stovepipe to dry, Witha thumb in her mouth, a flat In her eye. Alas! for the maiden; alas! for the hole, And ’rah for the man with hickory pole. For the truest words of tongue or pen, Are a “skating girl’s like a headless hen.” When you want to get right down to solid taffy for a comedian; say he is as funny as a Philadelphia death notice. Patrick comes to the morgue to claim a lost relative. “Has he any peculiarity by which he can be recognized?” “Yes, he i 3 dumb,” Sympathetic: “I feel for you deeply,” said the hungry man, probing about in hi 9 soup bowl for a stray oyster. A lady who suffered from phthisis. When asked by her lover for kbthisis, Hald, ‘ I’ve such a cough You had better go ough And be courting some healthier mhthsis.” “The second cousins ot tbe corpse will please come forward and take their places,” loudly called the sexton on one occasion. “The lateral branches of the corpse,” said another, “will now join the procession.” So you enjoyed your visit to the museum, did you?” inquired a young man of his adored one’s little sister. “Oh yes! And do you know we saw a camel there that screwed its mouth and eyes around awfully; and sister said it looked like you when you are reciting poetry at evening parties.” “How are you and your wife coming on?” asked a Galveston man of a colored man. “She has run me oft, boss.” “What’s the matter?” “I is to blame, boss. I gave her a splendid white silk dress, den she got so proud she bad no use for me. She’lowed T was too dark to match de dtess.” Oh, I suppose be loves Sarah, and would be glad to marry her,” she was saying to the woman iu the postoffice corridor, yesterday; “but I duuno.” “Isn’t he a nice young man?” asked the other. “Well, he’s nice enough, but very reckless with his money. At Christijms time he made us a present of a French clock for tbe parlor, aud there’s not one of in the house cau speak a word of French!” “You may talk about your meau men,” said one rustic to auother on the ferryboat jhe other day; “but we have got a woman over there in Alameda who takes the pie.” “Kinder close —is she!” “Close! Why, last month her husband died—fourth husband, mind—and I’m blamed if sbe didn’t take the door-plate off the front door, had his age added,and then nailed it onto She said she guessed likely she’d be wanting a new name on tbe door soon anyway.” A Deadwood man advertises his wife as follows: “My wife Sarah has shook the ranch, when I didn’t do a darn thing to hur, an’ I want it distinctly understood that any man that takes hur in an’ keers for hur on my account will get himself pumped so full of lead that some tenderfoot will locate him for a mineral claim. If she runs hur face for goods I won’t put up for hur, an’ He lick the sou-of-a-toruado that takes a stand-off even for the drinks. A word to the wise is sufficient, an’ orter work on Tools too.” Rev. Dr. McCo-sh, of Princeton College, tell a story of a negro who prayed earnestly that he and his colored brethren might be preserved from their upsettin’ sins. ‘“Brudder,” said one of his friends at the close of themeeting, “you ain't got de hang ob dat ar word. It’s'besettin’.not upsettiu’.”“Brudder,” replied the other, “if dat’s to it’s so. But I was prayeu’ de Lord to save us from de sin ob ’tox'catiou, an’ es dat ain’t an upsettin’ sin I dunno wbat am.” Pathetic love story: “It is the first time you ever repulsed me. Edith, and it shall be the last,” said young DeCourcey, (as he arose, haughtily, and moved toward the door. “Stay!” cried she, piteously, as if her heart wool d break; we “must not part ip anger.” “Well,” he rejoined, half penitently, “what shall I do?”Oh, Gus, aon’tblame me,” she exclaimed, with a perceptible shiver; “my neck is very sensitive. I stood it as long as I could. Go aud warm your nose.

Farmers Making Debts.

Country Gentleman. t A good deal has been said against farmers going in debt. Yet tbereis not one in a thous%pd who has the capital tQ what he should to get the best results for the farm. The trouble is not in the debt itself, but in ihe objects for which it was accumulated. No farmer was ever ruined by debts incurred for judicious underdraiuiug or manuring. If a thing will pay at all, it will pay as well done with borrowed money as if done by a capitalist. The mau who in vests money does it with the purpose of securing a profitable return. The less capital a farmer, has the greater need of investing where are the largest profits. It is all right for farmers to be cautious about borrowing' money to build fine houses, or to ride in fine carriages. Money thus borrowed seriously cripples farmers, and prevents them from Laving money for improvmeuts that are really profitable. Many a larmer has been over-weighted by expensive houllfS, or other buildings, which absorb so much of his capital that he has too little for anything else. Russia proposes the annexation of Corea, on the ground of its being a menace to her possessions in the Pacify icj and also on account of the warlike disposition of the Chinese^