Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 October 1882 — Page 2

He does well who does hiz b«sk Is he weary? Let him rest. Brothers, 1 here done my best lam weary—let me rest After toiling oft in vain. Baffled, yet to straggle fain— After tolling long to gain Little good with mickle pain— Let me rest But lay me low Where the hedgeride roses blow. Where the little daisies grow, Where the winds a-Maymg go. Where the footpath rustics plod, Where the breeze-bowed poplars nod, Where the old woods worship God, Where His pencil paints the sod, Where the wedded throstle sings. Where the young bird tries his wings, Wljere the walling plover swines, Near the runlet's rushing springs. Where, at times, the tempests roar, Shaking distant sea and shore, Still will rave old Barnesdale o'er, To be heard by me no moral There, beneath the breezy west, Tired and thankful, let me rest, Like a child that slecpeth best On its mother's gentle breast. Christian Intelligencer.

THE HISTORY OF YANKEE JIM.

One scorching afternoon in July, 185 —, the Hangtown stage creaked slowly over the plank roadway forming the principal street of Sacramento City, finally coming to a full stop in front of the El Dorado Hotel. It had not actually stopped before the usual knot of idlers were collected to stare, as they had done year in and year out, at the dozen or so dust-begrimed passengers who alighted, and who began threshing themselves like men who had been out in a heavy fall of snow, instead of having just finished the hottest and dustiest sixty miles of road in America. This particular stage usually made connection with the day boat for “The Bay,” as San Francisco was universally termed in the interior; but on this occasion it had come in too late by an hour at least, and the boat was consequently at that moment twenty miles down the river. Upon learning this disagreeable piece of intelligence, the belated travelers scattered, grumbling at a detention which each took good care to explain could never have been worse-timed or more inconvenient to himself than upon this particular afternoon. One traveler, however, stood apparently nonplussed by the situation for a moment or two longer, until his eye caught the word “Bank,” in big golden letters, ctaring at him from tne opposite side of the street. He crossed over, read it again from the curbstone, and then shambled in at the door. Ho knew not why, but, once within, he felt a strange desire to get out agaiu as quickly as possible. But this secret admonition passed unheeded.

Before him was a counter, extending across the room, at the bick of which •was a solid wall of brick. Within this was built the bank vault, the iron door of which beinf£ half opened discovered bags of coin piled upon the floor and shelves from which the dull glitter of gold-dust caught the visitor’s e/e di-r rectly. The middle of the counter was occupied by a psir of tall scales of beautiful workmanship, in which dust was weighed, while on a table bellied it were trays containing gold and silVer coins. A young man, who was writing and smoking at the same time, looked up when the door opened toaJmit the Krson of whom we were speaking. To )k at the two men one would have said that it was the bank clerk who might be expected !o feel the presentiment of evil. Really, the other was half-bandit in appearance. In the solitary individual who has just entered the bank we shall describe, not one man only, but a type of the thousands who, like migratory ants, passed and repassed the great highways leading to the mines of the Golden ,“State. He was a bronzed, bearded :.and weather-beaten hombre, dressed in -■* faded woolen shirt, pantaloons secured at the hips by a belt and tucked loosely within a pair of minor’s boots, a broad-brimmed hat that had been hastily c:ushed upon his head, and a peaiicket dangling from his left shoulder Tike the short cloak of an ancient caballero. The haft of a bowie-knife protruded, ready to be grasped, from li-s belt; and whop he walked a big “sixshooter” flapped against his hip at every step. The man seemed a walking arsenal ; but, had the well-dressed young person been searched, a “Derringer” would have been found in his pocket, while a revolver lay convenient to his hand underneath the counter. Although he was alone and unnoticed, yet the stranger's manner was undeniably nervous and suspicious. Addressing the cashier, he disjointedly said: “I say, mister, this yer boat’s left; can’t get to ’Frisco afore to-morrow?” (inquiringly). “That’s so,” the cashier assented. “Well,” continued the miner, “here’s my fix; bound home for the States (dropping his voice); got $2,000 stowed away; don’t know a live hombre in this yer burg, and might git knifed afore morning in some fandango. See?” “That’s so,” repeated the unmoved official. Then, seeing that his Customer had come to an end, he said: “I reckon you want to deposit your money with us V” “That's the how of it, stranger. Lock it up tight whar I kin come for it tomorrow.” “Down with the dust then,” observed the cashier, taking the pen from behind his ear and preparing to write; but, seeing his customer throw a wary glance right and left, he beckoned him to a more retired part of the bank, where the depositor very coolly divested himself of his shirt, in each corner of which five SSO “slugs” were knotted. An equal sum in dust was then produced from a buckskin belt, all of

which was received without the least comment upon the ingenuity with which it had been concealed. A certificate in due form was then made out, specifying that James Wildes had deposited with the “Mutual Confidence and Trust Company,” subject to his order, $2,000. Glancing at the scrap of crisp paper, as if hardly comprehending how it could be an equivalent for his precious heap of coin and dust upon the counter, Jim heaved a deep sigh of relief, then, crumpling the certificate tightly within his big fist, he exclaimed: “Thar! I kin eat and sleep now, I reckon. Blamed if ever I knew afore what a coward a rich man was!” He then started for the door, hesisited, came back to the counter, and fcsked the clerk, in a confidential tone: I say, what might be the valley of that buzzum-pin of yourn? The old woman at home might like some kind of a trinket, you know.” Tho clerk eyed the questioner sharply, carried his hand hastily to the diamond cluster flashing in his shirt front, and said, shortly, “Sixty ounces.” Jim gave a long whistle, and went out in search of a night's lodging. Our man, who had acquired among his fellow-miners the nickname of “Yankee Jim,” had been a sailor before the mast. When the ship’s anchor touched the bottom, he with his shipmates started for the “diggings,” where he had toiled for two years with varying luck, but finding himself at last in possession of what would be considered a little fortune in his native town. We see him now returning, filled with the hope of a happy meeting with the wife and children lie had left behind.

But while Yankee Jim slept soundly, and dreamed blissfully of pouring golden eagles into Jane’s lap, his destiny was being fulfilled. The great financial storm of 185- burst upon the State unheralded. Like a thief in the night the one fatal word passed over the wires that shut the door of every bank, and made the boldest turn pale. Suspension was followed by panic, panic by ruin and dismay. Yankee Jim was onlv an atom swallowed up in the general and overwhelming disaster of that day.

In the morning he went early to the bank, to find it shut fast, and an excited and threatening crowd surging to and fro before the doors. Men with haggard faces were talking and gesticulating wildly. Women were weeping and wringing their hands. A sudden faintness camo over him. What could it all mean V Mustering courage to put the question to a bystander, he was told to look and read for himself. Two ominous words, “Bank closed,” were pos ed on the front of the building. For a moment the poor fellow could not seem to take in the full meaning of the calamity that had fallen like a thunderbolt from a clear sky; but as it dawned upon him that his little fortune was swept away forever, and with it the hopes that had opened to his delighted fancy, the blood rushed to hfs brain and his face grew purple. Then he fell back in a fit, deprived of sense or motion.

The first word he articulated when lie came to himself was “Home.” Some kind souls paid his passage tc San Francisco, where the sight of blue water and of big ships valiantly riding at their anchors seemed to revive him a little. Wholly possessed by his one idea of get.'ing home, he shipped on board the next home-bound steamer, going about his duty like a man half stunned, and who sees, without comprehending, what is passing around him.

The sailing of a homeward-bound steamship was one of the events of those days. To say that the whole city turned out to witness, or rather to assist at, her departure would hardly be an exaggeration. On board all was bustle and hilarity. On shore jests and good-bys popped like cliampagne corks. Those wiio were going were the secret envy of those who were left behind, in whom this scene aroused that passionate, that uncontrollable yearning for the old home beyond the mountain peaks, beyond the seas. My own knowledge of the ohief actor in this history began at 4 o’clock in the morning of the third day out from port. The California’s engines were suddenly stopped. There was a hurried trampling of feet, a rattling of blocks on the deck, succeeded by a dead silence—a silence that could be felt. I jumped out of my berth and ran on deck. Howwell I can recall that scene. The morning, cold, damp and foggy, was an utterly dismal one. A pale light struggled through the heavy mist, but it was too thick to see a cable’s length from the ship, although we distinctly heard the rattle of oars at some distance, with now and then a quick shout that sent our hearts up into our mouths. We listened intently. No one spoke. No one needed to be told what those shouts meant. The huge black hulk lay silent and motionless. Although the gloom hid it from us, the near vicinity of the coast was announced by the roaring of the surf, distinctly audible in the deathlike stillness. We could not even make out the mastheads for the fog in which they seemed dissolving. But in the vessel’s wake stretched a half-luminous streak of phosphorescent foam, until it mingled with and was lost in the colorless vapor overhanging the black and torpid sea. Down this luminous track, and into the gloom beyond, our eyes were strained to discover the secret of the hour.

How long it was I cannot tell, for minutes seemed hours then; but at last we heard the dip of oars, and the boat shot out of the fog .within a biscuit’s toss of the boat. I remember that, as

they came alongside, the upturned faces of the men were ghastly and pinched. One glance showed that the search had been in vain. The boat was secured, the huge paddles struck the water like clods, the heavy floating mass swung slowly round to her helm. But at the instant we were turning away, awed by the mystery of this death scene, a cry came out of the darkness—a yell of agony and deepest horror —that nailed us to the deck. May I never hear the like again. “Save me! for God’s sake, save me!” pierced through and through the stillness until a hundred frantic voices seemed repeating it. The cry was so near that every eye instinctively turned to the spot whence it proceeded—so near that it held all who heard it in breathless, in sickening suspense. Had the sea really given up its dead ? Before one might count ten, the boat was again manned and clear of the ship. I recollect the figure of the first officer as he stood erect in the stem-sheets, with the tiller ropes in his hand, peering into the fog. I can see the men springing like tigers to their work, and the cutter tossing on the seething brine astern like a chip. Then the fog shut them from view again. But nerer more was that voice heard on land or sea. It was the last agonizing shriek of returning consciousness, no donbt, as the Pacific closed over Yankee Jim’s head. At eight bells we assembled around the capstan at our Captain’s call, when the few poor effects of the lost man were produced. His kit contained one or two soiled letters, a daguerreotype of two blooming children hand in hand, a piece of crumpled paper and a few articles of clothing. I noticed that while smoothing out the creases in this scrap of paper the Captain became deeply attentive, then thoughtful, then very red. Clearing his throat, he began as follows :

“It’s an old sea custom to sell by auction the kit of a shipmate who dies on blue water. You all know it’s a custom of the laud to search for the last will of a deceased friend as soon as the funeral i 3 over. The man we lost this morning shipped by his fo’castle or sea name—a very common thing among sailors; but I’ve just found out his true one since I stood on this spot; and, what’s more, I’ve found out that he had been in trouble. An idea strikes me right here that he found it too heavy for him. God knows. But it’s more to the point that lie left a wife and two children, whose sole dependence he was. Gentlemen and mates, take off your hats while I read you this letter.” The letter, which bore evidence of having been read and read again, ran as follows:

“Oh, James! and are you really coming home, and with such a lot of money, too ? Oh, I can’t believe it all! How happy we shall be once more! It makes me feel just like a young girl again, when you and I used to roam in the berry pastures hand in hand, and never coveted anything in the wide world but to be together. You haven’t forgot that, my lad, have you ? or the old cedar on the cliff where you asked me for your own wife, and the heaven over us and the sea at our feet, all so beautiful, and we so happy? Do come quick. Surely God has helped me to wait all this long, weary time, but now it seems as if I couldn’t bear it another day. And the little boy, James, just your image; it’s all he can say, ‘ Papa, come home.’ How can you have the heart to stay in that wicked place ?” When he had finished, some of the lady passengers were crying softly. He then read the fatal certificate of deposit, holding it up so that all might see. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he went on, “you’ve heard the story, and can put this and that together. When we get to Panama' I’m going to write a letter to the widow. It’s for you to say what kind of a letter it shall be. That’s why I’ve asked you here. Now, purser, put up the certificate o# deposit. ” “How muteh ana I much ?" said the purser. Ten, twenty, forty, fifty dollars were quickly bid. Then a woman’s voiee said seventy, and then the bidding ran up to a hundred and fifty. It was knocked down to a red-shirted miner, ■who laid three SSO pieces on the capstan, saying, as he fid so: “ ’Tain’t half enough, Cap; sell her agin—sell her agin.” The sale went on, each buyer putting the certificate up for sale again, until the noble emulation covered the capstan with gold. “Stop a bit, purser,” said Capt. M—, counting the money. “That will do,” he continued; “the sale is over. Here are just $2,000. The certificate of deposit is redeemed.” — Harper's Magazine.

Our Foreign-Born Population.

The foreign elements of our population have varied widely since 1850. At that time foreigners constituted 9.5 per cent, of the total population; .they now constitute 13.3 per cent. Of the foreign residents of 1850, 43.5 per cent, were Irish; 26.4 Germans; 13.9 English ind Welsh; 6.7 British Americans, while the Scandinavians formed less than 1 per cent. Since that time the proportion of Irish to the other foreign elements lias steadily declined. Of the arrivals in the ten years ending in 1850, he Germans were but 25 per cent.; of 'hose in the ten years in 1860, they were 37 per cent. Between 1860 and 1870 other foreign elements began to asKume importance through the fastincreasing immigration of Swedes and Norwegians across the ocean and of Canadians across our northern border. We have seen that the Irish of 1850 constituted 43.5 per cent, of the total foreign population. In 1860 this propor-

■ tion had fallen to 3&T9, and in 1870 still further to 33.3. Although the statistics of nationality at the census of 188$ are not yet published, it is not probable that the Irish to-day constitute more than 27 per cent, of the foreign population of the country.— Gen. Walker.

NATIONAL CROP REPORT.

estimates of the Yield of Grain and Potatoes. Wheat.—' TheOctoberTefcumstothe National Department of Agriculture of the yield per acre of wheat, estimated from results of threshing, foreshadows a product slightly exceeding 500.000,000 bushels, and possibly reaching 520,000,000. The average yield per acre appears to be nearly fourteen bushels, on an acreage slightly less than 37,000.000 acres. This is a reduct cn of area in the spring-wheat region, and a large vield in the trreat winter-wheat erowlng belt of the West Taking the highest figures indicated bv these returns of yield, the distribution of the production gives 248,000,000 bushels, or nearly half the crop of the United States, to six principal winter-wheat States—Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri and Kansas. The spring wheat of the Northwest may make 118,000,000 bushelq. The Pacific coast crop, which has been persistently exaggerated in commercial estimates, cannot much exceed 44,000,000 bushels. The Middle States produce about 40,000,000 bushels, and the Southern States slightly In excess of 50,000,000 bushels. Corn. —The yield per acre of com will be reported in November. The condition averages 81, being very high in the South and comparatively low in the Sta'es of largest production. In Illinois,, with 8 per cent, decrease of area, the condition is only 72, In lowa 70, and in Ohio 87. The three States produced 10 per cent of the crop of 1879. A careful comparison of the changes in area and condition indicates an average yield of twenty-five bushels per acre, against twenty-eight in 1879, and eighteen last year. The average of the series of years Is between twenty-six and twenty-seven bushels. New England will produce, according to October returns, 7,000,000 to 8,000,000; the Middle States. 82,000,000; the Southern, 340,000,000; those north of Tennessee and west of Virginia and Pennsylvania, 1,250,000,000 -an aggregate of 1,680,(X)0,000. Later returns may slightly reduce but cannot materially increase this estimate.

Oats. —The Department of Agriculture reports the average yield of oats to be somewhat higher than last year, or in 1879, and the product nearly as large as that of wheat —probably about 480,000,000 bushels. Illinois, lowa, New York, Wisconsin, Missouri, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Kansas are the States of highest rank in the production. Eye. —The average yield of rye, averaged from State returns, is fourteen and seven-tenths bushels, thus making the crop 0,000,000 bushels, or nearly the same as reported by the census. Barley. —The average yield of barley is twenty-three bushels per acre, aggregating 45,000,000 bushels. California, New York and Wisconsin together produce more than half, or 27,000,000 bushels. The product in 1879 was 44,000,000. Buckwheat. —The prospect for buckwheat is good for nearly the average product, 11,000,000 to 12,000,000 bushels. Pennsylvania produces nearly half a crop, and reports 95 as the average of condition, 100 representing the full normal yield. New York makes the average 75. No other State produces 510,000 bushels. Potatoes. —The general average condition of potatoes is 81. In the South, in the Ohio valley, and in Michigan, Missouri and Nebraska, the average is 100 to IC6. In the Northwest and tn the Eastern and Middle States the condition is lower. It is 70 in New York, 85 in Maine and 84 in Vermont, lleturns indicate a probable yield of 80 bushels per acre on an area of nearly 2,000,000 acres Cotton —The cotton returns of the Department of Agriculture for October indicate unusual size and vigor of the plant and capacity for large production. The late de velopmentof the fruitage, and the reported indications of a small top crop, limit the otherwise extraordinary prospect

Hansom Cabs in Philadelphia.

The liackmen of Philadelphia are distressed by the announcement that within a month the Pennsylvania Railway Company will exclude them from their Broad street station, inside which twenty hansom cabs and ten “fourwheelers,” owned by the company, will have places. The vehicles are nearly completed and after English models. Seventy horses have been purchased in Michigan to draw them, and the horses and vehicles will be let to reputable drivers at a fixed price per day, the rate of fare being also prescribed by the company. The price for » hansom cab holding two persons will be 25 cents for a mile and a half or less, and 20 cents for each additional mile or fraction thereof. The charge per hour will be 65 cents. The price for the “fourwheelers” will be 35 cents for a mile and a half or less, and 20 cents for each additional mile or fraction thereof. The charge for a trunk will be 10 cents, and for each valise 5 oents. Persons can carry hand-baggage free in hansoms. The chief purpose of the vehicles is to convey passengers from the station to their homes, but they will also carry to the station all 'persons who hail them while returning.

An Unkind Reply.

"■ There is a slight misunderstanding between McGinnis and his wife’s mother. It came about in this way: Hostetter McGinnis is thinking of taking a trip to El Paso for his health, but his mother-in-law has been telling him that there is danger of his being scalped by Indians, and that lie had better Btay right here in Austin. “Nonsense,” replied Hostetter McGinnis, “there iised to be Indians on the El Paso road, but they have all been driven off. I don’t believe there is an Indian in the whole country.” “Very well,” replied his wife’s mother, “ivlien you get out on the plains, and one of those wild beasts comes at you whooping and yelling, then you will think of me.” . . “I doubt it,” replied Hostetter McGinnis, and now the entente cordials has been spilled, and there is a coolness between them. —Texas Siftings.

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