Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 March 1886 — Page 2

ONEY A MlJftß : A wojl only a »lmplv ballad Bun: to acaruh'nn throng; '' i i fb«iro wuro tjou® that Itnrw aba Binger, ? v And few that boo <«U the aoaa; i , Yet U>e aingcr'a t»weo wa< tundor And ■ waet w.-tb levo nut >ld; . Bun ly tb<»« ! rart* tv uro hanlanad ■ That it Est *j proud and cold. Bbe *ang of tin womlren* glory' That tou bas tho wood' in «prlng; Of the Mtraugti", *oul-»tltTing voice* Whin "ihajhill* Itrwa < forth and ling.* Of tho hippy birds tow warbling . 7 1 Th* requiem of'th* day, And the quht hn*h ot too valley* In the du*k ot lh*U<xui*i>M< K r *y« And one tn a di*Cant romer— A womau worn with atrlfd— Beard in that »ong a m>-e«aga From th* «|>rlu)(tiUM of b*rUf< 1.J1.Fair form* n>«otip)M»for« h-r From th* tuiit of van «hnd yean; She Mt in a happy biiudneM, And h*r *y*« wore veiled in tear*. Then wb«n the *ong wa* cnde.l. And hu.hed th* long, n»wt tone. Th* H*trn*r ro*i< up uoftlv And went bn her way alone, . Ono* mor* in her hf*of-hg»ey- ? -™........ bhe pau*ed . but h‘r l»eart wn« »tr ng; And *he prayed : "God bleat the singer I And. < h, thank God for the long!" —Chambfn' Journal. ,

DON JUAN'S BRAVERY

BY E. B. W.

The railroad was not completed when we left Paso del Norte via. the.JMexican €en, tial foi the City of Ihiriuiga, It was early in December, a day of unclouded siinshine, of clear blue skies, of brisk, bracing atmosphere; and as we sped on toward Chihuahua. thoroughly comfortable in our firstelass carriage, we - regrettedthe hbebssity of ehanging out swift conveyance nt Villa Lerdo for the lumbering old diligeucia. The scenery was monotonous, it is true, but we were in a strange country, and even skies And sun ..appeared to have gained some new and marvelous charm: for we •were under the blue sky which arches over the old romantic country of the Aztecs-—the Mexico upon which Cortez, and his legion gazed from the lofty hills above the noble capital—the seat of an ancient civilization, the Mexico of which the Mexicans boast as "La tierra de Diosgde-Libcrtad. n The air was so mild that we sat out on - th« <datforaasevvFrt). hoiws, aomething worthy of our attention as we ■went over the level road between the low ■ana hills farther and farther into the old Republic. Our party consisted of only throe men—one a young Englishman, but so well veised in manners Ameiicm and Mexican as to be thoroughly cosmopolitan. He represented a prominent Chicago firm and was now visiting Durango in the interest of his firm —of which, by the way. he was junior partner. Speaking Spanish fluently, and having a large acquaintance in ahiiost every xwrt of the Republic, from the Pacific to the Gulf, nothing could surpass the spirit and vim ofhis conversation; nor did it seem possible to add anything to his knowledge of things Mexican —indeed, of matters in general. The second member of our party. was another Englishman, the s]>ecial eor" respondent of several Northern and Western papers, who was “doing" Mexico in the interest of his employers and his own purse. Knowing nothing of any tongue but his own plain roast-beef English, he relied almost entirely upon his compatriot, w hom we called Don Julio; the “special"'being Don Eurique, and I, the third member, being merely intent on pleasure and . ud-, venture, rejoiced in my own plain cognomen. As evening approached we saw before us ths lights of the city and rejoiced at the pleasant prospect; for we had decided to ■top over until the next morning in the old city of Chihuahua. Accordingly, just as the cleaf sbuTherh moon shone gloriously bright in the deep blue Mexican skies, we de•cended at tho station, took our seats in the •mnibus and were whirled through the long narrow streets to the Hotel de los Estados I'nidos. An excellent repast was discussed, and we hastened to the Plaza de la-Oohstitucion just opposite, from which already issued the sweet strains of the National Anthem. All Chihuahua was out in force; indeed, •übsequent wanderings through other portions of the country pioved to us that the Plaza is the one place where the youth and beauty of Mexican cities most do congregate. Don Eurique and I were unknown, therefore our progress was never checked by friends eager to bid us welcome; but. cigar in mouth, in sturdy, insular silence, we followed the stream and made iniftimerable ■evolutions of the diminutive Plaza. Not so Don Julio; his acquaintances with dark-eyed. Senoritas and gay“young Senores was extensive, so we had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing his desertion of us for the far pleasanter society of his youthful friends. We, how ever, with a stoicism to be envied, pursued the even tenor of our way, beguiling the time by expatiating on the beauties of the scene; turning our eyes from those fair, unknown faces to the stars shining in the upper blue; trying to satisfy ourselves with the enchanting strains of the superbly trained band, since fate vouchsafed us no melodious greetings in the soft Southern tongue from fair Southern lips. The season was winter, the month December, but it Was the winter of Mexico, the clear, sparkling climate of the South. The silver tinkle of the fountain sounded musically through the pauses between the •rchestral numbers. To our right rose the. ■erved and stately walls of la iglesia mayor —the oldest and noblest specimen of religiqui architecture in North America, the splendid masterpiece of Cristoval de Villa—now darkly outlined against the Starlit radiance of the blue winter night. In the early morning, while yet, the good people of Chihuahua reposed in what we will hope was peaceful sleep, we were on the train bound for Lerdo. Don Julio ■nd I chatted "and smoked, while the ■pecial made notes and yawned; breaking out now and then into unmitigated expressions of disgust at the monotony of the •cenery, and the dearth of msderiai for his facile pen. If the people who read his correspondence yakned half as much over bis letters as he did in writing them, it was a clear case of retributive justice. j Ofir stay at Lpndo / was short; indeed, only long enough of Don Julio’s paying a. visit '*b an old acquaintance who ihowted his friendship for that young man by accompanying us to the etage,followed by a servant* laden with a huge hamper of wine and delicately-prepared edibles for our consumption during ouy fifty-two hours of staging over mountainous roads and through dreary valleys. Once in the diligencia, we examined critically the aspect of our traveling companions—four only beside ourselves; three Mexicans with whom Don Julio was hail fellow well met at once, and one American—a short, stout man,whose red face and sandy hair looked particularly comical by the side of the dark-eyed, swarthy Mexicans. This individual, whom we immediately dubbed Don Juan on account of the utter incongruity *of the title,-we learned in a very little while was on his way to Durango City to join an old friend in the purchase of an extensive ranche. There was something irresistibly comical in the idea of this antiquated Western fanner's venturing so far from his native Ohio into a strange country, of whose language he knew nothing, of whose manners little more. ? He ■oon rendered himself obnoxious to

fastidious Don Julio by helping himself, mi nvited, to the liver-wing of a particn* lutiy savory chicken in I hat young gentleman's lunch-basket. With the utmost politeness our companion immediately pressed niton Ihm-JuMV die various tid-biis ho kindly provided by Don Cjrlos Michaud. But as our sturdy farm* r stuck his j o ket-knife with appreciative impartiality into one dainty after another, helping himself with equal freedom to a bottle of Veuve Clicquot's delicious wine, Don Julio could stpnl it no longer, but - subsided into gloomy silence. We stopped at a rancho for dinner, but while we uesconded Don Juan remained iu the diligencia, preferring chicken ana cham- . pauue gratis to the frijoles and tortillas with which we were regaled nt a most reasonable charge. „ '"xyr Conversation hobbled along on crutches for the next hour or so; but at lost Don Julio roused himself and nskeda question of one of onr Mexican companions which sent the todtly-btio froni Don Juan's face in a twinkling.- . “ Tbft Jpupg JliftU .adiJreßsed,Bjtoke EngHsh and replied-with a fluency which left no doubt in otir minds ns to the accuracy of his in form lit iop. At the same time a flush of int<dligence answered the silent question of Don Julio's gay bln u eyes. ' “Brigands?" be said, slowly, “Of course, the road is frequented by them. You see, Senor, travelers by this route generally carry large sums of money with them, and the gay Caballeros know it well." “Any trouble lately, amigo?” went on Don J uliQ»jttirel.ej<sJy. “Not since last month, and then it was little or nothing—only 'one man kiHed and two wonpdeil. llutttwto," with a shrug of his shoulders and 11 half smile, “they were onlytiringos.” “Of course, that made a difference,” said onr companion, gravely, not a muscle of his face twitching, although he saw plainly the ngonv depicted on Don Juan's countenance. • “By the way, Eurique, you had better look over your pistols; I suppose they are in good* condition,"'and with ostentatious carelessness he removed his pwn cartridge belt, examined his own two sixshooters and gave additional polish to the richly-carved handle of a gleaming dagger, which, to my certain knowledge, he had picked up in an old curiosity shop ip New York. But Don Julio believed in local coloring and always out-Heroded Herod even i -iu tbe- tnosWrivtob-mnttoiwEnrique-fol - lowed suit, touching, with fingers more used to the pen, his handsome revolver, returning it to his belt with a sigh of relief. “I suppose you have a weajxm of some kind?” asked Don Julio of the unhappy farmer, whose wretched expression showed that he longed for the security of his native State. “I—l—no, indeed; I never dreamt that I should have any use for such a thing,” he stammered. . “Dear, dear, what a pity! Why, don’t ' yfttt knowlhat vou have the most’dangertmi! pan or the canntiyta pass - niratigh just about dusk? Eurique, do have pity upon a fellow-mortal in distress—can't you? Welliriiever mind. Here, Don Juan, take this; I have two revolvers and I feel sure that we shall need them before nightJ I suppose you know how to use it? Thaps all right, don't trouble about thanks—Xis well to do so much for cbaritv ” / Of course the conversation turned wholly upon brigands and midnight adventuyes.un - til only the weight of,Pon Juan’sJiat kept his ruddy hair from rising upright like the quills upon the fretful porcupine. His face became more and more 7 pallid and *>**'♦ ***< y»*p AT-AO l<*W»r»XSW* vit -iiio “j “D JU! ; xtuu TrxrtrxTxx“r, until out of pure compassion Don Julio, changed the subject, proclnced his cigar ease, and signified his intention of adjourning for a while to a seayoutside with the driver and his mozo. / The shadows of the Winter evening began toTaH. hiding from our sight the dark line of hills and rend/ring the whole landscape blurred and indistinct. Under the influence of the winter quiet and the drowsy murmur of/ languid voices, Don Juan relinquished uis hold on the precious revolver and slumbered audibly. The rest of us were talking in- subdued tones when Don Julio returm/l and w ith a rapid glance took in the situation; with deft fingers he removed the changes from Don Juan’s revolver and replaced the weapon close to the nerveless hand/ then resumed_his cigar and his gay nonsense. • We were injfcie midst of the dark hills, the cold winter skies above us only faintly illumined by lhe rays of the half-obscured moon; the night was very still, so still that Don Juan's sonorous slumbers filled the silence noy,'too musically for fastidious ears—when—a sudden shock brought us all to our feey the diligencia stopped and the excited voices of the driver and mozo filled the air. / “Bobbers! murderers!"—bang! bang!— u Deja la! deja la! Lavdntan las manos! lavantaHilas manos!"— such were the sounds which seyt tne hue of health from the cheeks df the long-suffering Don Juan and left them pale with the" pallor of mortal terror. Cowering in a corner, his hands refusing to perform their office, the cherished revolver dropped in abject fear, he was certainly a pitiable object. The rest of us, meanwhile, were. blazing away, filling the air with the sharp report of our pistols and the confused din of our stentorian voices. At last the battle was over, the mozo appeared at the door and assured us that we might proceed in safety, since the robbers had taken their departure; but Don Julio sallied forth to inspect the field of action and to report the number of the dead and wounded. He returned in a little while, rubbing his hands with glee and shaking poor Don Juan’s trembling fingers heartily. “We’re all right, old fellow, thanks to your spirit, your intrepid, valor. Look here, Eurique, every chamber empty—l tell you the brave old boy knows how to fight. No showing the white feather here! Here’s to 4he health of our gallant comrade in the last bottle of Don Carlos’ wine! What do you think of the Gringos, now, amigo mto?* Here’s so you, old man! Three cheers for Don Juan!” Of course, we all joined in, and by the time onr flattered companiou had drained a bumper and had been patted on the back by one after the other of us in .succession, the color returned to his face and he sat up in a state of satisfied rapture, thoroughly convinced that he was the bravest American that had ever ventured across the Rio Grande.” He then began to , tell longwinded stories of valorous deeds performed in his youth with a rusty firelock, until we •hanged his name to Don Bombasto and fell asleep. A heavy rain came upon us in the early morping and the air was soon foggy enough Uo remind Don Julio of his native England. 'But toward noon the sun came out and restored nature and ourselves to a pleasanter state. l Don Juan still continued valorous; he hipd reloaded his revolver and sat up in an attitude of minified scorn ’and defianoey longing for a chance to again show his courage and save our lives. Towards evening he followed Don Julio’s example and. pistol in hand, retired to the elevated seat longed for the end of our journey." ' At about the same hour as on the previous day. the report of a pistol startled us, rousing us most effectually from our attempted slumbers. “What Son earth is the old simpleton doing now?” asked Don Julio as he started to his feet and hurried to thfe door. -■ The stage

stopped, and we hastened out to learn thi cause of the disturbance. * Don J uan soon satisfied us. He hnd almost fallen asleep when, through the gathering darkness", he observed two horH< met adraficiiig under cover of the night. Action, was as natural to hiui as thought; in a moment he had fired nt his assailants, and by his promptness and foresight hhd ddubtlesr saved the lives of his companions. Don Eurique.and the rest of us immediately set out in search of tire killed—but nothing rewarded oiir careful examination, except that in th« far distance the clumsy forms of two small burros were perceptible in the light of the noon.. The - piysten was explnmeil; here was a nineteenth ceptury version of Don Quixote's battle with tho wind nulls. , Don Julio gave a concise statement of the affair to his valiant companion. “Alss, poor brave Dun Juan! what have you done? I greatly fear you are undone!”' New terror bl'ftnctied the fat old face. “Wanton earth. r is the matter now?” he ejaculated in consternation. “A'o’ir valor, your courage and invincible spirit have saved us/but nt what a cost to yourself! In the forms of those seeming robbers I recognized two old citizens oi Durango returning to their hacienda. One was a distinguished lawyer, the other his son, a proniisin'g physician—whut will become of you, my poor friend?” “Become of tne!,, Why. I thought they were robbers like those of Inst night.” “Quite a natural mistake, too. Unfortu* nately, you have killed two harmless gentlepien; and the law is strict—hoiribly strict.” -• ; “Yes, my poor fellow,” put in Eurique, “you’re apt to findyourself in a bad fix when you reach Durango. Um awfully sorry for -you.” “I’ll give you of the only En-' glish-speaking lawyer in the city,” said Don Julio., “If it is possible toescape, he’ll see you through. He may manage to smooth matter’s over to the Governor.” Witlr difficulty we conveyed the limp form of Don Juan-back to the diligencia] he was white with terror and absolutely speechless, only able to roll his eyes with earnest appeal in their anguished stare—the picture of misery. Late that night we reached Durango and at ohce hastened to a hotel, hoping to find a comfortable room and good supper aftei the hardship of two days On the stage. With curly morning -Don—Juan"accosted' Julio, begging that youth to be his intercessor with the Governor; preferring to throw himself at once upon executive clemency to seeking the assistance of lawyers. Don Julio, however, begged in turn to be excused—he was far to busy then, but later he would do himself the honor ol calling upon his good friend Dott 'Franciso Palacios, and would then ask that mercy shoulcl be shown an unfortunate American/ Don Jrfan then asked Eurique to accompany him; but that accomplished gentloiuaji was up to his eyes in ink and -paperywriting five specials at once with scarcely the difference of a c,omnia, or a period. Of course he declined, which I did through not knowing Spanish. Accordingly, with the courage of despair Don Juan wended his way alone to the gubernatorial mansion, returning at din-ner-time with an air of "glee which cojjepletely banished the misery of his morning's expression. ‘ We were smoking in the office when he returned, Iris countenance wreathed, in smiles. “Don't talk to me about Mexican injustiee ftgam," he begou, —ttXk’hy, nothing could have been nicer than the Governor's manner to me. He understands English perfectly and speaks well enough to satisfy me, at any rate.’’ “So you actually bearded the.lion in his den.” said Eurique. “Tell us all about it, ordTeTtow. = — “None of you would go with me,-so I went alone. I’m an American, you know, anjl I believe in republics—you pobr boys are English and only know of freedom through hearsay. Well, I> went to the Governor's mansion, and after waiting some time was shown into his private office. He may be a Mexican, but he is certainly a gentleman. " I told him" all abouT~everything and im~ pressed upon him the fact that I was trying to save the lives of you boys”— and Julio exchanged grins: there was something so comical in the self-complacency of the speaker. “And what do you suppose he said?” “Can’t gue'ss.” “WelL.be rose, straightened himself, and said: ‘Senoi, I am Governor of this province, and Americans and other foreigners traveling in this country shall be protected so long as the arm of the law.haspower to reach offenders-. You did perfectly right, Senor, to save the liyes’of your friends. You are a brave man —I adore bravery—give me your hand.’” “Great heavens, what a mess!” This from Julio and Eurique together. “Yes, sir; and he immediately sent to the barracks‘and ordered that a detachment of soldiers should leave at once to bidng in the dead and wounded, and to scour the country in purspit of the villains who escaped.” Julio laughed—a long,loud laugh in Which we all joined. “What a'glorious April in December, old fellow! Don”t you" know, that it was all a joke? that no one attacked us, and that you wasted your powder on two harmless, inoffensive burros?" But Don Juan was not to be, convinced. He was a hero in his own eyes, a brave man in the eyes of the Governor—not quite So willingly would lie uncrown himself. To this day, I doubt not that he believes in himself and in his heroism, and will "transmit to his posterity an account of his valorous deeds in Mexico as an instance of how a brave American is regarded even in a country once so antagonistic to America and things American. Julio, meanwhile, set off for the mansion, arriving just in time to explain matters and to enable the Governors© countermand the order. The noble old gentleman looked very stern, made a few sharp remarks about the danger of indulging in such practical jokes; then, possibly overcome' by the remembrance of Don Juan’s complacent face and bearing, broke into a hearty laugh and invited the young man to dine with him.

Why He Was Late.

Teacher Late ■to school again, Johnnie. Johnnie—Yes’m. T.—Why is it, that you’re always late? J.—l guess its because I don’t start to get ready soon enough, ’m. T.—But you ought to start soon .enough. You should take time by the forelock. —: J.— That’s jusf what’s the matter, ’m. All’ the pictures I ever saw of Time show him baldheaded. He hain’t got. no forelock to take"him by. That’s the trouble. ——— : ~ z - T. (with a sigh)—lt is true, Johnnie’; I have noticed the absence of the forelock myself. Go to your seat—ton Courier. " “ A London physician gives the following cahtion: “Be careful in your dealfhgs with horseradish. It irritates* the stomach, anti an overdose will produce an unpleasant sensation for days.” 1— / >

The Grandest Sight on the Plains.

"• I had camped near the forks of the Platte/and was aroused just at daylight by footsteps around me. After listening for a moment I felt sure that they were Alia footsteps of horses. They seemed to be circling around me—not at a cancer —not at a trot, bpt at a moderate walk. It was well that I had secufed iny horse in a thorough manner, fort I never saw him so excited. He tugged and pulled at his lariat, stood up on nis hind legs, neighed and snorted and pawed and pranced; and it was Iris action that gave me a clue to the identity of my visitors. They wore wild horses. Hod they been Indian ponies my trained horse would have remained as ! dumb and silent as a post. Indeed, Inj dians would not have approached me in , that manner. . I remained very qniet, hoping the I horses would remain in sight until dayI light should give me a good view of them. I had to wait for a full hour, but when the ’ grew strong the spectacle was one to make a . man’s blood tingle. The circle had been enlarged until it was half a mile across, and my little camp was the center. Every horse, and there were 126 of them, stood with his liead to this center, and soldiers could not have taken positions on the skirmish line in more precise order. T pitied my own animal. He stood with the lariat drawn taut and trembled in every limb, and he was as wet with sweat as if I had galloped him twenty miles, I realized how he must long to break away and join the wild rovers and forever end his drndgeny. I dared not rise so my feet for fear of alarming the drove, but, nevertheless, I had a clear view of each horse. Most of them were magnificent animals. Manes down on their shoulders and tails on the grass. They were of colors, and they ranged in age from the yearling colt up to the veterans probably twenty years old. The bays predominated, but every color was present. We had been observirlg\eacli other abont fen mrimtes. wlitofu^-jet black stallion, who w as the leader of the herd, gave a snort, threw up his heels into the air and broke off at a gallop, followed by the drove in g,single file. They ran in a true circle, and they made the circuit five times before stopping. Then, at another signal from the leader, the circle broke and the horses wheeled into a long, single line, or “company front. ’’ Troop horses could not have done better. I thought at first the line meant, to charge me, but at a signal it made a left wheel and galloped straight off on the plain for a mile. Then it broke, assumed the shape of a triangle and returned. When the leader was within pistol-shot he wheeled out and the horses formed in a square, with the four yearlings in the center. They galloped off for a mile or so, broke again and returned in two ranks. I had an almost irresistible desire to kill the leader with a bullet. Indeed, J reached for my rifle with that intent, but then came the reflection that it would be little short of murder. Such another perfect horse I had never seen. His black coat shone like silk, his limbs and Ijody were perfection, imd he had the speed and bottom of U nace horse. Not a halt was made, for a full hour, and then it was only preparatory to taking 'a sxyift departure. The last maneuver was a circle at a slow trot, and each horse whinnied in a coaxing manner to my own steed. Poor Selim! He struggled in the most frantic manner to break loose, and when finding all his efforts of no avail he threw himself down on file grass and actually .groaned his disappointment. T rose up then and weaved my blanket. Instead of rushing off in affright as I the leader of the band deliberately approached me a few rods and stood and snorted and pawed as' if sending forth a challenge. Then I set up a shouting, waved the Blanket some more, and he took his place at the head, formed the band at “company front,” and they went off at a gallop and mauGi tained it as long as I could see the waving line.—AT. Quad, in Detroit Free Press.

Rev. Sam Jones on the “Unruly Member.”

The tongue is “an unruly member,” said St. James, “full of deadly poison.” There is many a person who, if you will go to their homes and put your ear to their heart, you will hear the blood dripping, dripping. You will ask, “What did that ?” and they will tell you, ”An inhuman tongue stabbed me there. ” God pity the man that will take his tongue and stab a human character. The tongue is the cause of all the trouble in our homes. It is not what we do. It is what we say. A man unkind to his wife! I have known a man to be polite and kind to every man that comes into his store that day, just polite, and then go home and stab his wife with meanness. Brothers, haven’t you seen cases like that? Did you not see one just while you were brushing your hair this evening ? How" many tunes a good, painstaking wife has arranged all day to make home pleasant for her husband, and when he comes in she greets him with a kiss, and before he has been at home ten minutes he takes that tongue of his and stabs her to the heart. She goes up stairs and cries as if her heart would break. God pity a woman who has got an old bear for a husband. Now, bless your soul, if I am going to be kind to any woman on earth it is my ■wife, because I sort of like her. I can’t help it to save a my soul. I feel a good deal like the Dishman who said: “Faith, may I neverlive to see my wife married again.” Never let a word slip from you that will draw a drop of blood from your precious wife's heart. Many a man has .walked up and bent over his wife’s lifeless frame, and as he saw the glow of life and beauty gone from her cheeks, and as he dropped a tear upon the pallid face of his wife, has said; “God forgive me for every unirind word I have ever spoken to her, the best, the kindest wife that ever lived.” That is my sort of religion. How unkind we are-Sometim.es to our children. I was at a camp-meeting a year or so ago. Four or five of us were standing around and a little 10-year-old 1 lack-eyed girl said -something to hgr Vt!lef,and the parent turned around and. r.i the most impatient, ruthless way he took his tongue and hewed her literally

almost to the gritand. I looked around and said: “You inhuman brute, I would not hew my child that, way for all the world. ’’ You can almost crucify your child with one stroke of your tongue. Somh. of you not only chop vour children to pieces, but yon would die liefore you would go and beg their pardon. I know wliat it is to look upon a sweet child that hod its arms around my face for the last time. It is gone, but when it is gone I never want to go into my parlor and look upon mv child and say: “O,| how those icy cold fingers point my memory back to the hasty words!” 1 lielieve, with Josh Billings, we have precepts enough to run four sueft worlds as this. What we need now is a few good examples. You go home and wake little Willie, up, get him wide awake, and get him on vour knees, and say; “Willie, who is the best maij in Cincinnati?” “Why, yon, papa,” he will answer. “Willie, who in this World would you most like to lie like ?” “ Why, you, papa.” Poor little fellow, he ain’t got much sense. The saddest thing a father eVer said to me was this. I was a pastor then, and had preached pn “Home Religion” : 1 have been a pastor now eight years of my life. He said to me about four weeks after I had preached that sermon : “Jones, I have studied my children for four weeks in all phases of their lives, and I have reached a verdict.” “What is the verdict?” He said: “Afterfour weeks of study I found out my children haven’t got a single fault that me or their mother, one of us, has not got. A direct copy of my wife and myself our children are.”

Some Cynical Remarks.

He who fears death loses life. Fear is death to pleasure. The earlier a man has his eyes opened to the realities of life, the sooner he wants to close them. If there be such a thing as the finger of God, it must be connected with the arm of Justice. Everybody has more or less cause to be unhappy. Happy is the man who is too busy to be miserable. He who is always complaining deserves to have good cause to lament. As there is no method of lengthening life, we must find means to shorten time. The pessimist who is also a humorist turns his own shroud into a harlequin’s jacket, and is there a more appropriate mask in this crazy carnival of human Hfe? It happens that Fate not only presses a tup of poison to a lips, but evfen makes him drain it slowly, drop by-drop. The world may forgive us for being weak and foolish, but it never condones our superiority. That is the unpardonable crime. Man should endeavor to correct his faults, but he is a fool if he admits, even toliis friends, that lielias faults. Mtn are always willing to depreciate your good qualifications, and to imitate your bad ones. ... ... . It is not strange that very few men know themselves intimately. Most people like to get rid of disagreeable -acquaintances. , Only*stupid people complain of hard work. Smart people never overwork themselves. It often happens that fear is merely" dread of being afraid. ‘ ‘ There is only one immortal. His name is Death.— Texas Siftings.

A Lord with Good Sense.

Lord Tollemache, who has just completed his 80th year, is said to be the model English landlord. He possesses about 46,000 acres of land in Cheshire, and during the whole of the agricultural depression, from 1877 to 1885, he ha<l neither a vacant farm nor a tenant in arrears. His estate in Cheshire has, during his lifetime,been c.ut up into farms averaging about 200 acres in extent, his lonDhip considering that a thrifty farmer with sons and daughters could do excellently on a 200-acre farm,while he would suffer severely on a smaller holding. In order to break-up 'his estate into farms of that size, he biTilt, "or rebuilt, between fifty and sixty farm houses at the cost of £148,000, each of these homesteads costing about £2,800.. In addition to this, Lord Tollemache has built 260 cottages for the accommodation of the laborers. In regard to the education of children on hip estate, an anecdote is told of liis lordship’s practical common sense.... Lord Tollemache.. was anxious to provide mixed schools for the education of the farmers’ and laborers’ children; but after the buildings had been erected at considerable expense he found that the tenant farmers objected to sending their sons to the same schools with the laborers’ children. Having listened quietly to the master’s complaint, the noble lord said: “There is only one way out of this difficulty; I will send my own sons to the school.” For nearly two years Lord Tollemache’s children attended the school, and, their father said, “to their undoubted advantage.”—Sunbeams.

A Practical Man.

During services in an Arkansas church, two game roosters entered the house and began td\ fight. An old deacon was about to eject the chickens when the preacher, stepping down from thepnlpit. saids" “Hold on a minute, Brother Matthews, I want to this, congregation the evils of cock fighting —show how barbarous —” “Bet ten dollars on the red one, ” some one exclaimed. _ ' - “I go you,” the preacher replied. “I am a new man in this community and I want to show this Congregation that there’s not a sinner in the neighborhood that can blufl’me.” The red chicken was defeated. The preacher, putting the stakes into his pocket, remarked: “I’ve been needing anew saddle for some time-and l am thankful to see that circumstances have favored me. Since eliickens are determined to fight and since sinners are determined to bet, I think that it is the preacher’s right to take advantage of the situa*ionT u =--4Tk<m«a?r Traveler. A West Side woman claims that her feet have not been five years. It is believed thai she passed much of her time in a Chicago street car.—Chicago Ledger. '

CHARLES DICKENS’ DEMISE.

Hl* Last Moment* Touchingly Described by HU Daughter. ‘On the. Monday morning the sisters were to leave for London. Charles Dickens had an intense disliktrdo and shirking from all leave-taking. He never used the word “good-bye” if he cyuld help it, and generally left us for any short absence witli, a kiss or a nod.: But on this day his daughter Kate said : “I must say good-bye to papa," and went over to the chalet where "he was busy writing. As a rule, when he was bqav he~<ronld just nut un his cheek to be kissed. But thir day hey took his daughter in his arms, saying: “God bless you, Katie!” And titre txating the branches of the tr»eH, among the birds and butterflies, and-scent of flowers she left him. All that day and the next he was well, but soon tired—an unusual thing for him. On Wednesday morning Im was in excellent spirits, talking to “auntie” about his book, “Edwin Droqd,” and, as he was to go to his office in London theJlgxt .day he would, w;ork in the chalet and take no drive or walk until the evening. He once came to the house in the middle of the day, smoked a cigar in the conservatory, which, “improvement” he .took intense delight in, and went back to the chalet. It was not until lie and his sister-in-law, the only member of the- family home juSt then, sat down to dinner that she noticed a change in his color and expression. She asked him if he were ill, and he said: “Yes, very ill; I have been very ill for the last hour. ” She was going to send immediately for a doctor, but he forbade her, saying that he would go on. with the dinner, and to London afterward. He struggled against the fit that was coming on, and she, becoming seriously alarmed, entreated him to come and sit down. “Yes, on the ground,” he answered quite distinctly, and, on her arms going to assist him, he slid from her arms and fell on the floor. A couch was brought into the dining-room, on which he was. laid. Telegrams were sent to his children and to his London doctor, and a messenger sent for the doctor at Rochester, and the faithful friend and companion sat alone, for a time, watching. The two daughters and Mr. Beard arrived that evening, the eldest son the next morning, and his son Henry from Cambridge the evening of the 9th, too late. alas. We watched all through the night and all through the next day, but he never once opened his eyes, or showed . one sign of consciousness. It was better so for him. The last “good-bye” would have caused him such pain and sorrow. But we could tell the moment —ten minutes past 6 o’clock—when his spirit took its flight. A shadow stole across his face, a tear rolled dojvn his cheek, he gave * deep sigh, and he was rgone"ffomlts. Dickens.

Useful Recipes.

To Clean Windows.—A good clean-, ing powder for show windows, which' leaves no dirt in the joints, is prepared by moistening calcined magnesia with pure benzine so that a mass is formed sufficiently moist to let a drop form when, pressed. The mixture has to be pre/ served in glass bottle's with stoppers, in older to retain the easily l volatile benzine. A little of the mix-; ture is placed on a wad of cotton and. applied to the glass pliate. It may also' be used for cleaning mirrors. Superior Blotter.—Blotting paper, saturated with a solution of oxalic acid and dried, will not only absorb the ink of a Wotf lmt will remove- the. blot - itself, if the ink does not contain indigo or aniline color. It might be dangerous in removing -signatures from important papers, Tut tlie trace '-of the writing will remain, and can be made legible by adding ferrocyanide of potasdium or gallic acid. Glue.—ln order to render glue insoluble in-water, even hot water, it is only' necessary, when dissolving glue for use, to add a little potassium bichromate to the water and expose the glued part to the light. The proportion of bichromate will vary with circumstances; but for most purposes, about one-fiftieth of the amount of glnc will suffice. To Relieve Toothache.—Dr. J. R. Irwin says that one of the best and most pleasant things that can be used to relieve toothache is chewing cinnamon bark. It destroys the sensibility of the nerves and suspends the pain immediately, if the bark is of good quality. Rust and Ink Stains.—These can be removed by moistening the spots, and rubbing on them a mixture of two parts cream of tartar and one part of oxalic acid. When the stain disappears it is washed put with water; This mixture does not affect the fabric, and hence it ig preferable to oxalic acid alone.

Why People Were Buried.

When men began to bury their dead they did so in the firm belief in another life, which life was regarded as the exact counterpart of this present one. The unsophisticated savage, holding that in that equal sky his faithful dog would bear him company, naturally enough had the dog in question killed and buried with him, in order that it might follow him to the happy hunting ground.' Clearly, you can’t hunt without your arrows anil your tomahawk; so the flint weapons and the trusty bow accompanied their owner in his new dwelling place. The wooden diaft, the deer sinew bowstring, the perishable artiei.es of food and drihk, have long since decayed within the damp tumulus ; but the harder stone and earthenware articles have Survived, till now, to tell the story of that crude and simple early faith. "Very crude and illogical, indeed, it was, however, for jt is quite clear that the actual body of the dead man was_thought of as persisting to live a sort of underground life within the barrow. A stone hut was constructed* for its use, Teal weapons and implements were left by its side, and slaves and wives were ruthlessly massacred, as still in Ashantee, in order tli&i tlioir corpse of the buried master in his subterranean dwelling. In all this we have clear evidence of a very inconsistent, savage, materialistic lielief, not indeed in the immortality of the soul, but in the continued underground life of the dead body.— The Cornhill Magazine.