Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 February 1883 — Page 6

—— IV,'TYING HER BONNET UNDER HER CHIN. Tying her bonnet under her ohm. She tied her nrm ringlet* in: * Bat not ftlfone in the silken snare Did she catch her lovely floating hair, For, tying her bonnet under her chin. She tied a yoong man’s heart within. They were strolling together up the hill, Where the wind comes bio wing merry and chill And it blew th > emit, i frolicsome race All over the happy peach ooloied face. Till scolding and laughing she tied them in; Cinder her beautiful dimpled chin. And it blew a color bright as the bloom Of the pinkest fnehia’s to sing plume. All over the cheeks of the prettiest girl That ever imprisoned a romping curl. For, tying her bonnet under her chin. She tied a young man’s heart within. Steeper and steeper grew the hill; Madder, Merrier. Chiller still. The western wind blew down, and played The wildest tricks with the little maid, i As, tying her bonnet under her chin, Sh« tied s young man's heart within. O Western wind do yon think it was fair, To play each tricks with her floating hair? To gladly, gleefully do your best To blow her against the young man’s breast. Where he as gladly folded her in, At. d kissed her month and dimpled chin. Ah! Ellery Vane, yon little thought, An hour ago, when yon besought This country lass to walk with yon, Ai tey the son had dried the dew. What perilous danger you’d be in, A she tied her bonnet under chin.

GOLD AND GILT.

Bhe was a very pretty girl, and did her lyest, in an innocent sort of a way, to let other people know it; and she could not help thinking as she walked along the Elthaxn road, that keeping company with Tom Dawlish—who was just a plain, Jbonest, hard-working young fellow—was rather a Waste of time, and that marrying him would be altogether throwing herself away. Her refleetions oame to an end at the door of Messrs, Bradbury’s offioe and she walked in, wholly intent on the bill she had to pay. A smart looking young man received the money; and when the receipt was made ont,andshe turned to go, she found that the shower which had threatened for some time was ooming down with a vengeance. , “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, and I have’nt any umbrella.” “Wait here a few minutes, Miss; it will soon be over,” said the smart young man. And then, having aooepted his offer of shelter for a minute oi two, thinking he “was a very nice-looking young gentleman.* (as i he afterward described him to the oook,) and that he had beautiful hair —it war. no nicely curled —and he had a little dark mustache and wore such a pretty blue neck-tie. Oh! he was very nioe-looking indeed. “Are you Mr. Poole’s sister?” he asked after a few minutes’ conversation. Mary hashed as she replied truthfully —for she was far too good a girl even to equivocate—that she was not such a disinguished individual, but only the housemaid and chambermaid combined, and then he asked her what her name was; and with another blnsh she told him it was Clara, but Mrs. Poole said it was too fine a name for a servant, and called her Mary. “I shall call you Glara,”he said—“shall I?” he added, with an appealing glanoe. Mary felt her heart beat faster; something seemed to tell her that her destiny had come, and she had no words to say; so he followed up his successful sally with another one. “Do yon ever get out of an evening for a walk?” “Sometimes,” she said softly. “Will you go out with me for a walk next time?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be right; yon are quite -strange, you see.” she said, slowly. “Oh, we’ll soon get over that, you know. Perhaps you are engaged, though?” Mary’s inconvenient heart gave a great thump, for here was a good practical question, which certainly showed that he meant business—that is to say, matrimony. “No, Tm not; but Pm wanted to be.” Not a very luoid answer, but he evidently understood it. “Who to?” he ashed coaxingly. “Well, perhaps I oughtn’t to say his v name,” she answered slowly; for in this, the moßt impel taiat moment in her life,a she felt it to be, words seemed altogether to fail her. “What is he?” -‘‘He's—he’s a carpenter.” Mary never felt the truth more difficult to tell in all her life. “A carpenter! be said in a telling tone of injury not uuiuixed with scorn. “Well, of Course, if I am not better than a carpenter—” “Oh, you are; you are sir,” said Mury, in her excitement patting out a hand and vesting it tot teyfr a moment on his sleeve. M ury lost lief Beikrt to the smart young man with the Hue neck tie and the well oiled hair. He never said anything more definite than he said that first day; but he was always ready to take her out, and most particular about her dress; and the result was that all her little lioanl of sav-

Inga went in more or leas ill-choeen finery and Tom Dawlish waa forgotten. There was only ene thing she refused to do, and that was, she would not give up her Saturday afternoon to him. She had always had it to take little Franky Poole out for a long walk on that day, it being his half-holiday, and she would never consent to his being allowed to run about wild in Kensington Gardens, as Alfred Hill (for so the smart young man was called) suggested, while she walked abmt with her fine sweetheart. “He is such a wild little fellow; nobody knows what he might do if he had the chance.” “Ah! yon don’t care for me,” said the hero of the coal merchant’s office, and the proud recipient of thirty shillings a week income. No answer oame save that her clasped hands made one in their dumb movement of contradiction. Not love him! Why, every moment of the day was devoted to thinking of him; her work was neglected, her money spent, her place in a fair way of being forfeited, and poor Tom Dawlish nearly heart-bro-ken, and yet he said she did not love him! “Ah! you don’t care for me,” he repeated, artfully enough; for no avowal of his own feelings had ever escaped his lips. “Oh! I do, I dof’ she said; and covering her face with her hands, let her head droop down npon his shoulder.

CIIAPTEB 11. “I hate school,” Frank Poole informed her one morning, as he sat on the table while she sewed a button on his trousers. “I should like to be a sailor.” “Goodness ! Master Franky, what’s put that into your head ?” “Oh, nothing ! only Tom Dawlish was telling me about it; what they did in wrecks yon know, and all that. lehonld like to be on a raft, I should ;” and he drew his naked toes up on the table and wriggled them about at the thought of the great things he would do. “Tom’s ooming to-day, I heard mamma say so ; and if he isn’t gone when I come back this afternoon, I shall ask him more abont it.” ‘Td tell him not to go filling the child’s head with such nonsense, only I don’t want to get in his way,” Mary thought. Bat somehow Tom got into her way that afternoon. “Look here, Mary,” he said: “I want to speak to yon. It isn’t that I want yon to look at me if yon haven’t a mind to though goodness knows Td do anything for you ; but I don’t want to see a nioe girl like yon a lowering of yourself by walking out with a ohap like Alfred Hill.”

“What’s it got to do with you ?” she asked angrily. “Why, just this, that I’ve found out a bit about him, and he’s only laughing at yon, and thinking you are a nioe looking girl when you are dressed up, to walk about with, but as for marryiifg you, he’ll no more do it than that,” and he snapped his fingers, though what that action had to do with Mr. Alfred Hill’s intentions he did not explain. “Why, he’s going to marry the daughter of Mr. Brooks, what travels for the firm, that’s what he’s going to do. Ask him, and see if he ean deny it. Why, it’s ooming off directly, only she’s nothing to look at, so he isn’t fond of showing her off; bnt she’s got some money, she has, and plays on the piano, and looks like a lady." “How do yon know ?” Mary asked, her very lips turning white, for her exacting heart knew that he had fallen off lately, and that he was not what he had been in the spring (the summer was over.) Not that for a single moment she believed Tom’s words.

“Why, I work there, and the servant told me. Beside, I’ve seen him go there courting.” “I don’t believe it. You ought to be ashamed of yourself ;” and she rushed away to hide her gathering tears and frightened face. She wrote to him, asking her to meet her that night; bnt he replied with an excuse that made her heart sick. He would meet her to-morrow (Saturday afternoon) jn Kensington gardens if she liked, be said, and to this she consented, and for the first time, and for his sake, was false to her charge of Franky. ‘•You run about, Master Franky, dear,” Bhe said; “I want to talk to a friend of mine—but don’t go out of sight;” and then in her bewilderment she forgot all abont him. Alfred Hill looked rather boared than otherwise, but he was smiling and shiny as ever. She hardly greeted him when ho appeared, but she looked' at him with all the admiration she had ever felt for him intensified by her fear. He sat down beside her, and elegantly crossed his legs, began tapping his highly-pol-ished boots with his bone headed cane. “Alfred,” she said, crossing her bands and looking at him straight in the face, “is it true that you are going to get tnarried direotly?” “Who’s told you so?” “It isn’t any acoount who told; is it true that you are swing to marry Miss

piw4 and has money, and—” The tears came into her eyes, and her lipe quivered with anguish. “Oh, it isn’t true! I know it isn’t T, and she touched his hand in her dismay, and looked up into his face with all her heart’s story written in her eyes. “I don’t see why it shouldn’t be, and so there’s the long and short of it. It’s no use making a fuss abont it, my dear girl.” “But it isn’t? it isn’t?” she said appealingly. “Well, yes, it is true,” he said slowly, not daring to look her in the face; so you may as well know it at onoe.” She stood up before him. “True! Do you mean to say, Alfred, after all that’s passed between ns, that yon are going to be married to some one else?”

“I really can’t understand your ‘what has passed between us.’ Yon really oouldn’t think I was going to marry you?" . “Why?” “Well, I don’t wish to bnrt your feelings, but consider the difference in onr positions. One walks out with a pretty servant girl, bat one doesn’t foarry her.” “Yon are not a gentleman as yon think yourself,” she said slowly. “You are dressed like one, but yon are just a bit of a clerk, not any better than a respectable girl like me. A gentleman doesn’t try to take a girl’s good name and win her heart as yon have done.’ Mary often wondered how she fought her battle as she did; but she seemed to have no feeling then, only to realize what would come after. “I am very sorry that you let yourself fall in love with me,” he aaid, tapping his boot again. “I fancied that yon would have had more pride, at any rate, till yon were asked.” “More pride ! What do yon take me for?” she asked, her cheeks flashing. “Do you think I’d go out with one, and let him talk to me as yon have done, if I hadn’t oared for him? I have too much pride for that, and I shouldn’t be fit Com pany for any honest man if I hadn’t. And yon know it; but it isn’t yon that I like, but the man I took yon for, and he isn’t there at aU.”

“Well, I’m sorry you are disappointed in your hope of bettering yourself by marrying above yon, and I think, after all you’ve said, we’d better part.” “The sooner the better,” and she let him go, and then sat down and sobbed her poor heart oat, and spent the bitterest hours of her life beneath the trees from whioh the leaves were falling. Then she got up to look for Franky ; he was nowhere to be seen. She called, bnt no answer oame. With a fear that deadened all other feeling she ran to and fro in a wild endeavor to find him. She asked the polioeman at the gate ; he had not seen him. An hour passed in fruitlestsearch, and then, pale with fear, and renjbling in every limb, shewent ho me to relate the terrible news. Just as she got to the door she saw through the gathering shadows Tom Dawlish, and in his arms a little figure, which her heart told her was Master Franky. “I met this young gentleman as he was running off to be a sailor, and brought him book.” “Running away ! Why, how were you going to get to the sea ?” “I was going to walk there,” said Franky, stontly. • “You would have killed your poor mamma.” ' “Mamma,” asked Franky Poole the next day, “would it kill yon if I ran away to sea ?” “Yes, dear, I think it would.” “Oh, well, then, I won’t,” he answered patronizingly. It was spring time again when Tom Dawish asked Mary a question onoe mora He had a good situation, had a prospeot of a rise ; and he’d always been daft on her, and he wanted to know if she could love him. She looked up with a face that had grown pale and thin, and said simply,— “I don’t think that Ido now, Tom ; but if you like to wait I think it’ll coma’ ' “Bless you!” said Tom ; ‘Td wait seven years sooner than lose you.” But he haid only to wait ona “He is gold and the other was gilt,” said Mary on her wedding day ; and she was right.

Cremating a Body.

A Washington, Fa., special says: A telegram was received by T. V. Harding, trustee of the LeMoyne Crematory, on Wednesday, from Dr. Kaufman, of 212 East Tenth Street, New York, stating that the remai is of a three-year-old child would leave that night for incineration. The furnace fire was lighted between 4 and 5 o’clock yesterday morning, and long before the corpse arrived the -retort was in fine condition. The train at 11:30 a. m. brought the body, accompanied by Dr. Hoppell, a friend of the dead child’s parents. On arriving at the crematory the remains were removed to the brick building where the burning is done. The usual preparations were made, the corpse lifted into tho iron orib, wrapped in a sheet saturated with alum water, and slid into the retort. The ti' 1 was closed over

.. and th- com. menoed. The child was a ami of Dr. Samuel Hahn, of New York, whole body found its way into Dr. LeMoyne’s crematory in March of 1880. The Doctor’s widow, believing in the plan of cremation, had the remains of her aon Sent here. The corpse was dressed ha a white shroud, and enclosed in a metallic casket There were no services. At precisely 12 o’clock the retort door waa opened. Baa few minutes the alum-soaked sheet disappeared, and exposed to view what was left of the corpse. The flesh had entirely burned away, leaving nothing hat the bare bones. In a comparatively .short time these began to crumble and melt away, falling npon the iron rack upon which the subject rests. It generally requires two hours to complete the incineration, but to-day it was completed in much lees time, owing to the smallness of the body to be reduced. The retort will not be sufficiently 000 l to allow the removal of the ashes until Monday,when they will be taken out, and after being neatly packed in a little tin box, forwarded lo Dr. Kaufman, the child’s grandfather. The casket will also be returned to New York.

Embarrassing Questions.

Afkanaaw Traveler. “Pa,” said the Rev. MuUuttle's little son, “Samson was a strong man, wasn’t he T “Samson was the strongest man that ever lived.” “Tell me about him.” “It was intended that Samson should be the strongest man, and before he was bom—” The bewildered expression on the child’s face arrested the minister in his narration. “Before he was bom?” “Yes ; before—that is before he was found in the hollow stum —” “Just like little sister V “Yes ; just before he was found an angel appeared and foretold of his strength, saying that no razor must touch his head.” “Was the angel afraid that the razor would cut him V “No, the angel meant that his strength lies in his hair and that his hair mart not be cut off”

“If I let my hair grow long can I lift more than I can now?” ‘<l don’t know about that.” “Are women stronger than men?” “No.” “Bnt they’ve got longer hair V “Yes; they have longer hair.” “A woman couldn’t whip you, could she ?” “Not, not easily.” “Was Samson a Democrat T “I don’t know.” “Bnt yon do know. I’d know if I was as old as yon. How many was it that Samson killed ?" “One thousand.” “He was bad, wasn’t he “No.” ’ “Bnt when a man kills anybody he’s bad?” “The Lord was with Samson.” “But the Lord says you musu’t kill anybody, Did Samson go to Heaven?” “I suppose.” “He is the strongest angel there, ain’t he?” “You are getting foolish again.” “But I want to know. Will you know Samson when you go to heaven?” “I suppose so.” “But you won’t fool around him will yon? If he was to hit you he’d break your wings, wouldn’t he ?” “Go to your mother. The next time yon attempt to question me about the Bible I shall whip you.”

The Dairy Interest.

The returns of dairy manufacturers as shown by the census, (now in press), show an immense growth in that industry. The capital invested amounts to $10,000,000. They consume materials valued at $18,000,000, and their total products are $26,000,000. The value of material used in condensed milk manufactories amounts to $1,000,000. Statistics were taken from the cheese factories combined batter and skim milk factories and condensed milk factories. The total number of these establishments reaches 4,000. The State of New York leads any other in th!p number of factories, and the amount of capital invested in this investment

But Freddie Didn’t Go.

Atlanta Constitution. If Mr. Freddy Gebhait will refer to the files of the New York Evening Post he will discover that he is about >to enter that fervid land where the glittering results of oapital do not 6tand in the way of the shotgun and revolver. We mention this because it is currently reported that Mr. Gebhart recently made some unfriendly advances to a St. Louis reporter. In the land of the orange* the clime of the sun, where the song of the birds to melody run, the reporters are primed for this sort of fun. ’Tisthe beautiful land where gushers are gashed, and mashers are most everlastingly mashed. The Persian cloaks are sold for half the nrioe they brought last spring.

AN IRATE EDITOR 7- W-<&>**!* wySU ' - .. . The Granville, N. Y., Sentinel presented a bill to tho Board of Boporviaoni for $18X79 and waa allowed $1.79. Xntbia weekaiaaue of tho Sentinel the editor seta even with the enpervieoia for portion of bieloee in the following versee “Whoever cheats the printer Out of a single sent, Win never reach the heavenly land Where good Elijah went.” So tho Board of Supervisors, In their future home eo hot, Will have no printer’s bills to oat, For there they enter not. So wreak your vengeance while yea can. Yen’ll scarce make us sick; You’ll have the pleasure bye and bye -Of chewing red hot brick. When we in transient glory Look down In yorit worm hive, We’ll send the following message; / “One dollar and seventy-five.”

A LITTLE SPICE.

A New York plumber has died from overwork. It is suspected that he attempted to make oat a dozen bills in one week. A French paper says that Gambetta used to recite whole poems of Victor Hugo’s while dressing. His mysterious death is no longer a matter of surprise. Cheyenne society is harrowed up over a question of etiquette. People are divided in opinion as to whioh coat-sleeve a man should wipe his mouth with after eating soup. A good old lady, speaking in a prayer meeting and giving expression to the joy and confidence she felt, said: “I feel as if I was ready this minute to fall into the arms of Beelzebub.” “Abraham! Yon* mean Abraham!” hastily corrected a brother sitting near. “Well, Abraham, then,” was the response. “It don’t make any difference. They’re both good men.” A Nashville woman has been arrested on the charge of stealing a pavement,and the Philadelphia News can’t imagino what in the world she wanted of it. The probabilities are that she was formerly a Philadelphia servant girl, an intends shortly to move into the country. She designed to take the pavement with her. A Philadelphia domestic can’t enjoy life unless she has a pavement to wash off every morning. Boston Journal: “Now girls,” said the teacher, “I want yon to read up about George Washington, who was the father of his country, and on his birthday I shall question yon regarding him, and also abont his wife. I suppose yon know who was the mother of this country and her name—” A little head popped up in the rear seats, and the teacher resumed: “Well, my dear, you may name the mother of our country.” “Lydia Pinkham,’ shouted the five-year-old in a shrill voice. The teacher went home wondering whether life was worth living. Back from off hia fevered temples, Brush hie straggling locks of gold. Hear hie deep, etertorione breathing— Little Darling’s caught a oold. Hasten, get the soapsuds heated — Place it at hie chubby toes— Speed thee for the mutton tallow. Grease the little Darling’s nose.

How Montreal Girls Dress.

The New York Sim’s Montreal correspondent relates this: “I must tell you how these girls dress,” said a New York woman to her husband. “First, they start with flannel from head to foot —and such flannel! Why, it’s an eighth of an inch thick. Then they go on like other women, except that they pat on more skirts, and usually a quilted one that’s as warm as a wood fire. Then they put on a dress, and ■ iver that a chamois jacket that fits like a shoe in the mud. Then they put ribbed woolen stockings over their stockings and arctics over their shoes. They don’t care any more abont the looks of their feet than the St. Louis women do. Then they put on knit wristlets, then gloves, then a for or cloth dolman, then a fur cap, and finally a coil of worsted oomfortera When they are dressed, if they are hurled at a speed of a mile a minute from a toboggan they are unhurt. If they fall through the ice they are not wet. If the thermometer drops to fifteen below they read of it next day and wish they had known it at the time.”

How Governor Stephens Works.

Atlanta Correspondence. Governor Stephens is a steady, methodical worker. He keeps doing. He never seems to tire. And he does everything thoronghly. He is never in a hurry, and always deliberate and painstaking. He sees all the company that comes to him, and he has a constant stream of visitors. He runs his company and his work right along together. He goes to bed at 9 o’ clock, but soTetimea will dictate correspondence for several hours lying in bed. His method of receiving visitors is different from the -general practice of public functionaries.' There is no red tape or ceremony. None are kept waiting. He l eoeives them promptly, hears their business patiently, and gives an immediate action. He still plays whist in the evening when a hand can be made. The social quality is very large in Governor Stephens’ nature. He really enjoys company. He is a charming talker. He is filll of reminiscence and anecdote, and he tells things well.