Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 July 1886 — Page 2

AFTER DEATH. '~ : 7 •* «XXBM w. M. omt**.-'” ' Atfir*K>h«n »y fee* shall b* changed, and I To dwell In alienee that oann<* bo broken, A few whom I lore will lament me, I knew' And eyra will be dim when my name ehall be apoken. U any have blamed me. their cenaure will For when tlm (nil light of eternity flaahea, . There*! nothing to do bnt to whisper of peacd, And no one can war with a handful of aahet. But o,'to be gone from the homo that waa mine; With no more a ahare in ita joy or ite sorrow; My part in Its plana to forever resign. Jib thought of today and no care for tomorrow. -T-T—r AU thia ia beyond me. How atrange it will be To go on a Journey that has no returning, With year after year speeding on without me To gladden or grieve when the sunsets are burning I The children will lean their light weight on the atone, To apell out my name and to question and woedw What *tia to lie there in the darkness alone Through moonlight and starlight and rolling of thunder. But then In a moment some butterfly gay Will hover above them apd chide their delaying, With beautiful wings it will lure them away. And they will forget all the stone baa been saying. But I shall lie patiently there in my place, Ths slumber a part ot my life and my story; TUI some time, the morning will flash in my face. And I shall awake to its. gladness and glory. —A’ew

BE PATIENT WITH THE LIVING. Sweetfriend, when thou and I are gone Beyond earth's weary labor. When tmall shall be our need of grace From comrade or from neighbor; Past all the strife, the toll, the care, And done with all the sighing. What tender truth shall we have gained, Alaa, by simply dying ? Then lipa too chary of their praise Will tell our merits over: Andleyea too swift our faults to see, Shall no defect discover; Then hands that would not lift a stone Where stones were thick to cumber Our steep bill path, will scatter flowers Above our pillowed slumber. Sweet friend, perchance both thou and I, Ere love is past forgiving, Should take the earnest lesson home; S Be patient with the living I Today’s repressed rebuke may eave =rOnr blinding tears tomorrow; Then patience e’en when keenest edge May whet a nameless sorrow. Tis easy to be gentle when Death's silence shames our clamor, And easy to discern the best Through memory’s mystic glamor; But wise it were tor thee and me, Ere love is past forgiving. To take the tender lesson home; Be patient with the living. —Good Cheer.

A HOSTLER’S RECITAL.

BY MRS. MARY R. P. HATCH.

It was in the fall of 1881, Sept. 20, that a party of five, including myself, started on a trip to Dixville Notch, a wild and romantic pass situated some fifty miles north of the White Mountains. Circumstances prevented our setting forth at the proposed hour, so it was nightfall ere we passed through Colebrook; indeed, lamps were lit in many of the stores and dwellings. Upon inquiry we learned that we were still ten miles from the Notch. We decided, however, to go forward although our horses were tired and did not pull well together, being both off horses which had never before been driven together.. The trinkling lights grew less frequent and finally disappeared altogether, which led us to conjecture that we were now in the Dixville region. The stars came out, and the moon gave a faint light, but this only served to make more apparent the gloom of the impenetrable forests and rocky cliffs, and as we observed alljliis we regretted that we had not remained at Colbrook until morning, for the road, if not actually dangerous, was dreary enough. Wo seemed as much out of the world, or at least from ihe abodes of man, as though we had been traveling days, instead of hours. The cry of a loon or some other bird of night occasionally broke the silence which settled over us; for the gentlemen were too much engaged in their efforts to keep the horses in the narrow path to indulge in any but laconic remarks, and Miss Alden and I with tightly-clasped hands sat rigid and still, waiting for the carriage

to be overturned or hurled downward into the far-reaching darkness. “Ain’t you afraid?” at last exclaimed Miss Alden. “No, I feel as safe as though I were in my mother’s lap," returned Charlie, but immediately before the laugh subsided he drew up the horses suddenly. Mr. Ackley got down and discovered that we had narrowly missed being thrown down a precipice. “Shall we go on?" I asked anxiously. “We can't turn around, and I suppose we must,” replied Charlie. The gloom increased, the darkness thickened. Trees grew thick on either side of the road, the curtains of our carriage were down, and Miss Alden and myself were thus enveloped in total darkness. As for my little boy he had fallen asleep. Suddenly we heard the shrill whistle of a locomotive, and the thunder of a train broke the silence. Onr horses quivered with fright so that their harness shook, and they began plunging and rearing. Bending forward to peer out, we saw high up on the crags the lights of a passing train. Another whistle, a rumble, and it had vanished. “Heavens!” exclaimed Charlie, “we have seen the phantom train. ”

“Phantom train!" repeated Miss Alden. “I see nothing remarkable about it.” “Nothing remarkable when there is not a railroad track within twenty miles of here? That train,” said Charlie, “if it did not float in the air ran over the points of stones bristling several feet apart and at an altitude that surveyors have thus far not interfered with.” “la this true?" I asked. “It is indeed.” he replied. “I have beard of this phantom train, but never believed in its existence until now. It only appears one night in a year, and I suppose lucky or unlucky we havs chanced upon that night.” Absurd as the story had always appeared to me, I did not in the uncanny darkness which surrounded us, find it too strange for belief. Indeed had we not seen with our own eyes the phantom train? “Shall I tell you the story as I heard it?” asked Mr. Ackley. “O no, not until we are out of this gloom," said I. ‘\ . ' “If we 4ver are,” said Miss Alden. We went on, past one or two lumbering camps, untenanted and solitary, and just as we had begun to feel hopelessly shut in by dangers, seen and unseen, we enured a cleared-up space, and in a moment drew rein at a large, pleasant, well-lighted hotel, the Dix House. The hostler immediately appeared and the landlord met us at the door. . The change was wonderful. Out of the dreadful darkness into the cheerful house and the pleasant parlor where quite a number of guests, remnants of the summer visitors, were sitting cosily together. “See H? Yes I ece it every 20th of September for years till the landlord took

to having , me hers * to tell the story to ms company,” broke from one corner of the room, an<s then we observed a tall, weather-beaten did man who looked strangely out of place in the midst of the group of well-dressed city people. ** Heaekiab Winters," said one gentleman, rising and placing chairs for Miss Alden and myself, “was about to tell us of the Phantom Train which is popularly supposed to appear every 20th of Beptem“Let us not interrupt his recital,’’said Mr. Ackley, as We all exchanged glances. “You see," said the old man, “I was hostler to the Phenix down to Cohos, and I was a-tenejjn' to my dooties, when into the stable comes a yonng man, genteel but sorter dissipated-lookin', and with somethin’ in his eye I didn't like the looks of” “ ‘They tell me up to the house,’ says he, ‘that I can't get to Pixville to-night, but I’ll go if the devil will help me, and I think be will.’ “ ‘They say he helps his own,’ says I perlitely, but he didn't seem to mind what I said.

“ ‘You see,’says he, ‘there's a young lady with me, and her mother is very sick. If we can get through the Notch to-night, maybe she will see her mother before she dies. We've got to go, and we will go.’ “ ‘But there ain’t no train and there ain't no team that goes this 'ime er night,' says I, and I turned round to card one of the hossea, and when I got through I looked round and he want there. I was supposed, because you see the stable doors opened and shet turriblo hard and squeaked besides on their hinges. “Well, he was gone, vanished like. I went up to the house, and the cook and chambermaid was talkin’ about a lady in the parlor. “ ‘She's handsome as a drawn picture,’ says Mary, ‘and her feller is handsome, too. They're a runaway couple, I blieve.’ “ ‘Handsome!’ said the cook.- ‘He’s too wicked lookin’ to be handsome.’ “ ‘I wish I could see her,’ says I; for you see I pitied the girl if she was going to run off with that man. “ ‘Well, come with me,’ says Mary. ‘I guess yon can get a look at her, for I am jest a-goin'to ask if she wants anything.’ “I followed Mary as fur as the parlor door, but in a minute she came out lookin’ scarf. ‘She ain’t there,’ says she. “Wall, gentlemen and ladies, no one ever sot eyes on either of them after that, but strange sights and sounds was heard that night by mor n one. Miss Higgins, the milliner, was waked rip by a noise like a train passin' her winder, and Dick Henderson was run over by a train and had his leg broke. There won’t no track, mind you, when they found him, and a good many folks said that Dick was too drunk to know what hurt him.* - ■■— i “But old Mr. Fellersis one of the soberest, men you ever saw, and he heered a train a-tootin’ andbellering like all possessed shat very night. I heered him tell on’t down to the store. I thought the day of judgment had come! And the Widder Storm, a mother in Israel if there ever was one, says she was cornin’ from a sick neighbor’s when she saw light before her an ingine and one car smokin’ and tearin’ along. A man seemed tendin’ the ingine, but she didn’t see no one else till the car passed her, and then, siftin’ by the winder that, waa all lit up, she saw a - beautiful young lady and she was a cryin’. She felt so sorry for her, the Widder Storm did, that she says she never once thought about there bein’ no track for the car to run on till she got home and then she says she shook jest like a leaf, and then she remembered that the smode had a dreadful curious smell. “Jest a year from that night I happened to be camped out in Dixville wood«, and long towards midnight I saw passin’ high up on the peaked rocks a train tearin’ long at a- terrible rate. It was all lit up, but there won’t only the engine and one car. ’Twas too far off to see inter the winders, but I kuew it was the same train. That feller was tendin’ of the ingine and the pretty girl was cryin’inside. I was sure on’t, fur when a man calls on the devil as he did he’s sure to git help, and he’s pretty sure to git more’n he wants on’t. “Wall, the next year me an’ Jim Gallikin thought we’d git nigher if we could, and so we set out to cljmb the rocks long in the afternoon, and we dim’ an’ dim’, but sure’s you're born we never got no nigher. When night come then we was in a different place, but no nigher, an’ so we camped out. By an’ by, the train come a-teafin’" along. It looked wickider this" time. The engine seemed possessed, an’ belched, an’ quivered, an’ threw fire, an' this time I could just make out the rigger of a man walkin’ on the car. “I looked ’round at Jim and there he laid on the ground, his eyes a-rollin' an’ he a-twistin’ as though he was in a fit. I shook him pretty rough set up an’ gasped. “Wall Ki,” says he, “Inever b’lieved beforethat you ever see“it, but thats a phantom train sure nuff. Where it goin’ to?” “Sure as the world I’d never thought of that, but Jim’s a readin’ feller you see. At the rate that train traveled it could go round the world pretty quick or down to Chiny and ’round tother way, for it don’t need no rails you see. But who was the feller an’ who was the girl, an’ was it all a lie' about her siek mother? I’ve figgered on it pretty stiddy but I don’t get no nigher the truth! “Wall two or three years after tall, mel-ancholy-lookin’ man come to the Phenix to inquire after his daughter; said he’d tracked her so fur; said he 'sposed she’d gone off with a stranger, leastwise a stranger to him. His daughter got acquainted with him somewhere to school. Course no one could tell anything about her, and there won’t no one that could bear to tell him the dreadful stories goin’ about the phantom train, so he went back to Canady.

‘ But the strangest thing about it is that the train is seen in other parts of the world. You see. Dr. Hodge used ter live in Lincoln 'bout forty miles from here, and my sister worked in the family till she got to be jest like one of them’, so when the doctor (he’s a curious critter, allars doin’ somethin’ odd) took it into his head to go to Chiny, to Hong Kong, to cure the catarrh. He said, why nothin’ would do but Mahaly to. ' “Wall in the very fust letter she wrote home she said that Chiny was the curiousest place! There wasn't ‘no railroads, she said, but one night in a year an engine and one car came tearin’ along. The Chinese think they have offended one of their gods, and so they throw themselves onto the ground and howl so you can hear 'em miles. She see the car herself. 'Twas in September. “Wall now, that aint all, though, maybe you think it’s enough, but Elber Storm goes a walin’ down to Maine, leastwise from Maine, and he says that one night on shipboard he see sailin’ richt over their heads ’mohgst the clouds a engine an’ one car. Mirage, the Captain called it, so Elber said, but when I told him about the phantom train he said Ke hadn’t no doubt, not the leastest mite, but it was the same thing. “So then ’tis. It’s been seen in these parts of the world all in September. I don’t know bent the dates, and that critter is tearin'’round the world yet, I 'spose. It’s an awful thing when a feller turns agin Providence and Bible teachih’. “That’s all I know about it, gentlemen and ladies. Scientific fellers try to explain it on philosophical principles, call it optical delusion, and mirage, like the ’

Captain, but when I tell 'em it never appears no night but ihe 20th they mostly shot up their nonsense, " “'•A enrions trtorfrMr. Winters’* said the first gentleman, blandly. “Very curious indeed." ■ \ ~ The old man was ho fool, and he was a little nettled by the term. His face Cleared up, however, when Mr. Ackley ind Charlie shook hands with him, thanking him for his story as they went out together. As for me I am not in the least scientific, and have no theory to offer,* so I give the facts to the reader and generally allow each to study up one for himself.

To Young Men Who Want to Marry.

Select the girl. , Agree with the girl’s father in politics, and with her mother in religion. • If you have a rival, keep an eye on him; if he is a widower, keep two eyes on him. Don’t swear to the girl that yon have no bad habits. It will be enough for you to say that you never heard yourself snore in your sleep. " If there is a bothersome little brother who has a habit of coming in just at the time you don’t want him most, and who takes great interest ih you, and makes unfeeling remarks about the shape ol your nose, take him regularly the latest Puck. Don’t put much sweet stuff on paper. If you do, you will hear it read in after years, when your wife has some especial purpose in inflicting upon you the severest punishment known to a married man. Go home at a reasonable hour in the evening. Don’t wait tilt the girl has to throw her whole soul into" a yawn that she can’t cover with both hands. A little thing like that may cause a coolness at the very beginning of the game. If you sit down on some molasses candy that little Willie has left on the chair, while wearing your new summer trousers for the- first time, smile sweetly and remark that you don’t mind sitting on molasses candy at all, and that “boys will be boys. ” Reserve your true feelings for future reference. - If, on the occasion of your first call, the girl upon whom you have placed your young affections looks like an iceberg and acts like a quiet cold wave, take your early leave and stay away. Woman, in her hours of freeze, is uncertain, coy, and hard to please. In cold weather finish shying good night in the house. Don’t stretch it all the way to the front gate, if there is a front gate, and thus lay the foundation for future asthma, bronchitis, neuralgia, and chronic catarrh, to help you worry the girl to death after she has married you. Don’t lie about your financial condition. It is very annoying for a bride who has pictured for herself a life of luxury in your ancestral halls to learn too late you expect her to ask a baldheaded parent, who has been uniformly kind to her, to take you in out of the cold. Don’t be too soft. Don’t say: “These little hands shall never do a stroke of work when they are mine,” and “You shall have nothing to do in our home but to sit all day and chirp to the canaries,” as if any sensible woman could be happy fooling away valuable time in that sort of style; and a girl has a fine retentive memory for the soft things and silly promises of courtship, and occasionally, in after years, when she is washing the dinner dishes or patching the west end of your trousers, she will remind you of them, in a cold, sarcastic tone of voice.-— Puck.

Critics on Cooking.

It is one of the strange things about poor human nature that everybody's else occupation is so much easier and pleasanter than one’s bwn. Housekeeping is the most delightful affair in the world to those who have never tried it. They really have hot the least idea how difficult it is to cook or serve a perfect mead with no failures nor’ “hitches” in it. Their backs do not ache, their heads do not throb, their nerves are not in a quiver oyer the awkward mistakes of servants. They cannot understand why the hot tears start in your eyes, or worse yet, the hot words drop from your lips at their careless criticism of bread, or cake, or meat. It may seem hard that after a morning’s toil in a hot kitchen, or af-ter careful and minute directions, there will be some lamentable failure somewhere in the meal which you hoped would please, and that somebody’s eagle eye will pounce upon that one weak point in the whole affair, perhaps the very thing over which you have toiled the most patiently, while all the excellencies of all the rest are forgotten. The spot on the sun in household astronomy usually puts out thu sun entirely. But never mind if it does. Remember that no one means to be unkind. ®

They have a right to expect you to give them good things to eat, and they are disappointed if they do not get them, that is all. Make up your mind what is reasonable for your family to expect of you, do it just as well as you can, and then harden your heart. If jou are selfish and indolent you jriU probably fall short of your duty. If you are conscientious and devoted you will probably do more. The average householder thinks the three meals are the only important thing, and that- your main strength should be given to them. Ton kfiow that the neatness and pleasantness of the house demand something; if there are little children, they demand still more. Keep the due proportion. Waste no time on the unattainable. Do not model your housekeeping or serving on some one else’s whose circumstances are either much beyond or below yours. Then if criticisms or comparisons come, take them kindly. Stop and think before you let them hurt you. “Do I deserve it?" If you do, you need it, and it will do you no harm. If ybu not, let it go. The heavens will not fall if the roast is undergone to-day, or the cake scorched to-morrow, provided it could realty not be helped. Be sure always and do your best, then send no unavailing regrets after it, if it is not a very good “best.”— -Mary Ann Blake, in Good Housekeeping. It has been said-: Nothing can be both a failure and a success. How about the youth who is a success as a dude and a failure as a man ? Kind words are like an oasis to a roan in the troubled desert.

Wanted to be Independent

“Every man should have an incentive to.spnr him onward," said Gosport to M ill ik<n, at they walked down .stat<■ street together the other morning. “He should set up a target toward which every arrow of effort is aimed. Every act of his life should be a means toward an end. ‘Plant your stake somewhere ahead, young man, and try with your utmost energy to get there,’ said Daniel Webster; ‘and if you don’t stop somewhere on the way, you will be sure to reach it.’ That’s the talk for me; it has the ring of pure gold about it, and if I had a dozen boys I would have that printed in letters a foot long and pasted on the walls of every room in the house. I tell you, Milliken, everything depends on getting a boy started right. Look at me. Parents both died before I was big enough to butter my own biscuit, and I was left to drift about without a rudder, and grow* up with no more ambition tlxan an organgrinder.. I had to do a heap oT wild shooting before I found qnt everything depended on blazing away in the same direction all the time, but for ten years back I’ve had my stake planted, and if I’m spared I’m bound to get there as sure as guns, ” and Gosport brought down his hand with a slap so sudden that an ol’d lady just ahead gave a jump, screamed “Mercy on us!” and dropped a pound of butter on the sidewalk.

“Well, I hope you’ll get there, Gos, upon my word I do, ” replied Millikin. “But if it ain’t an impertinance, may I ask what sort of a sapling your hatchet is aimed at?” “Certainly; there’s no secret about it. I want to be a farmer. ” Millikin braced about and gave him a look that began at his plug hat and went down to his button shoes. “Well, you’d make a nice-looking granger, you would. Whatever put that notion into your head ?” inquired Millikin, with a tone that had considerable pity in it. “I always wanteif to get into a position where I could feel independent. I don’t like the trammels a business man has to submit to. It galls me, and I don’t intend to put up with it any longer than I have to. I want to be free to come and go as I please. Work when I want to, and rest when I feel like it. To have my own ideas on politics and religion without the danger of taking bread out of the mouths of my children by doing so.” , “You want to be independent ?”

“Yes, sir, I do; I want to feel that I can safely have opinions of my own, on every subject under the sun, from evolution to the price of whisky, without having to pay a tax, in the" shape of lost patronage. The farmer is the most independent man in the world——” “When his wife is away from home.” “None of your jokes. I am serious, lam determined to be a farmer. I want to be the owner of some land and my own soul. If I know a man to be a villian or a hypocrite, I don’t -want to be compelled to associate with him or have anything to do with him. ” “And you want to be independent?” “To be sure I do, and I will be if I’m spared a few years longer.- For years my objective point has been to find myself the owner of a good farm; where I could earn my bread by the sweat of >a hired man’s brow; smell the clover blossoms; drink in the beauties of nature, and eat sausage whenever I feel so disposed, without fear of losing social standing. ” “It’s independence you’re after?” “Don’t I tell you so?” “Then, in heaven’s name, why don’t you buy a railroad restaurant, and get into a position where you can make the biggest farmer in the State feel like a small boy every time he comes along ? If it’s independence you want, you canget so much of it for so little money in any other walk of life. Farming, fudge ! Let me sell the sandwiches and I don’t care a pretzel who buys the nation.”—Chicago ■Ledger,

Dickens at Dinner.

Here is the way Dickens describes a dinner given in his honor by Emile.de Girardm, in a letter just made public: “Hardly had we laid aside our oyercoats when an usher showed us through three sumptuous salons, lit by gilt bronze chandeliers, in which burned 10,000 candles. The suite ended in a dining-room of incomparable magnificence; at its further end were two enormous plate-glass doors, behind whitdfeave saw a room full of splendid, beyond that the great red glow of a vast kitchen, wherein moved an army of scullions in w hite caps and jackets. Seated in his chair at the head of the table, our Amphitryton, like an ogre of the fairy tales, presided over this ceremony. He cast a long, knowing glance over the table, which was covered with a damask cloth of snowy whiteness. Touched by the spectacle, the guests at first maintained a respectful silence. AH at once a gong sounded, and through the great folding doors which suddenly flew open, the banquet made its appearance. By heavens! A repast fit for the Olympian gods! A single detail will give an idea of what such an entertainment must have cost. There were eight of us at the fable, and I calculated that at current prices the truffles alone must have cost 125 francs. On the table there were a great many curiously-shaped decanters full of delicious champagne frappe: during the third course Some port wine was poured out which would easily bring 50 francs the bottle at auction. The dinner at an end, gilt baskets filled with oriental flowers were placed on the table; ices were then served, and some flasks of old brandy, -which had been buried in bottles for a century; then came coffee, brought from the far interior of Asia by the brother of one of the guests, who had paid for its weight in California gold dust. The guests having returned to the salon, they found there tables loaded with cigarettes stolen from the harem «f the sultan, and clear, refreshing drinks in which the flavor of lemons, arrived the day before -from Algeria, was voluptuouslv blended with the delicate perfume of oranges received that morning from Lisbon. The guests scattered themselves over deep divans covered with dark stuffs, relieved with brilliant embroideriess. All at once,

moved with I know not what mysterious agency, a heavy table made its appearance. It was coveted with massive silver plate of curious shapes. From a gold ewer escaped in blue clouds a smoke which perfumed the whole room; it was the powerful aroma of tea from China, presented to the powerful journalist by a mandarin, with three or four buttons. ’While the entertainment lasted, the master of the house repeatedly remarked: ‘This little dinner is only given for the pnrg>se of ifiaking the acquaintance of M. ickens; it does not count, it is nothing,’ But I perceive that lam forgetting half the details; I have not even spoken of a plum pudding' the most enormous plum pugding that I, an Englishman of England, have ever seen, a plum pudding accompanied by a celestial sauce, a plum pudding full of delicate flatteries for me, and whose name on the bill of fare was followed by the following inscription: ‘An homage' to the illustrious English writer.’”— Paris Corresponderce Boston Herald.

An American Summer Hotel.

It happened to be at the Kaaterskill House—it might have been at the Grand, or the Overlook—that the young gentleman in search of information saw the Catskill season get under way. The phase of American life is much the same at all these great caravansaries. It seems to the writer, who has the greatest admiration for the military genius that can feed and fight an army in the field, that not enough account is made of the greater genius that can organize and carry on a great American hotel, with a thousand or fifteen hundred guests, in a short, sharp, and decisive campaign of two months, at the end of which the substantial fruits of victory are ih the hands of the landlord, and the guests are allowed to depart with only their* personal baggage and side-arms, but so well pleased that they are inclined to renew the contest next year. This is a triumph of mind over mind. It is not merely flie organization and the management of the army under the immediate command of the landlord, the accumulation and distribution of supplies upon this mountaintop, in the uncertainty whether the garrison on a given day will be one hundred or one thousand, not merely the lodging, rationing, and amusing of this shifting host, but the Satisfying of as many whims and prejudices as there are people who leave home on purpose to grumble and enjoy themselves in the exercise of a criticism they dare not indulge in their bwn houses. Our friends had an opportunity of seeing the machinery set' in 'motion in one of these great establishments. Here was a vast balloon structure, founded on a rock, but built in the air, and anchored with cables, with towers, and a high-pillared veranda, capable, with its annex, of lodging fifteen hundred people. The army of waiters and chambermaids, of bell-boys and scullions, and porters and laundry-folk, was arriving; the stalwart scrubbers were at work, the store-rooms were filled, the big kitchen shone with its burnished coppers, and an array of white-capped and aproned cooks stood in line under their chef; the telegraph operator was waiting at her desk, the drug clerk was arranging life bottles, the newspaper stand was furnished, the postoffice was open for letters. It needed but the arrival of a guest to set the machinery in motion. And as soon as the guest came, the band would be there to launch him into the maddening gayety of the season. It would welcome his arrival in triumphant strains; it would pursue him at dinner, and drown his conversation; it would fill his siesta with martial dreams, and it would seize his legs in 4he evening, and entreat him to caper in the parlor. Everything was ready. And this was what happened. It was the evening of the opening day. The train wagons might be expected any moment. 'The electric lights were* blazing. All the clerks stood expectant, the porters were by the door, the trim uniformed bell-boys were all in waiting line, the register clerk stood fingering the leaves of the register with a gracious air, A noise is heard outside, the big door opens, there is a rush forward, and four people flock in—a man in a linen duster, a stout woman, a lad of 10; a smartly-dressed young lady, and a dog. Movement, welcome, ringing of bells, tramping of feet—the wlipje machinery has started. It was adjusted to crack an egg-shell or smash an iron-bound trunk. The few drops presaged a shower. The next day there were a hundred on the register; the day after, two hundred; and the day following, an excursion.— Charles Dudley Warner, in Harper's Magazine.

A Thrilling Experience.

“I have had plenty of experience calculated to try a man’s nerve,” said a friend of mine. “I have sought the bubble reputation even at the cannon’s mouth. I led a relief party into a cavedin coal mine, I stayed in New Orleans all during the yellow-fever epidemic, but I never was so scared in all my life, never felts so great a responsibility, as one day in a quiet country street without another human being in sight. It was this way: A friend of mine who lived there owned a twenty-two thousand dollar trotter, and he was taking him out with only a halter on. He forgot something and gave me the halter while he ran back. He did not return at once, and a sudden start given to the horse by apiece of paper blowing across the street made me realize my position. I had at the other end of a slender strap twenty-two thousand dollars’worth of horse-flesh belonging to another man. At any moment a sudden noise might cause the animal to break away from me and dash himself to death against the fences or in a ditch. Even the discovery of my presence might have that effect. I scarcely breathed and the perspiration broke in cold streams all over_ me. 1 cofild not take my eyes off the the beast; I was fascinated by its face. Every time it lifted a foot or moved a muscle an involuntary shudder ran through my frame. My friend was only gone a minute or two, but it seemed an age. When he returned I fairly forced the baiter into his hand. ‘Why, old fellow,’said he, ‘you’re as pale as a ghost!’”— Chicago News.

HOW WISE BECAME A JUDGE.

Funny Incident* in Hi* Campaign far - x — Governor of Virginia. Hon. John S. Wise, who was the Republican candidate for Governor of Virginia at the last election, is a dead shot, a lover of fine dogs, one of the best lawyers in his State, and—a joker. At the Hoffman House recently he gave a writer lot the New York Mail and Depress a batch of funny things about his campaign for Governor. “How did I get the idea for a glassball shooting campaign ? In the beginning of the campaign I visited some red-hot Bourbon Democrats in a back county, intending to try and convert them by a telling stump speech. I had to pass away the time early in the morning, as the speaking did not begin until noon. There were a lot of old ink bottles piled up in front of a store. I made a bet with some of the Bourlxm Democrats that just as many of them as I defeated in a contest of shooting at these bottles should vote for me. Well, •T won four Democratic votes in a very few minutes. That’s the only shooting I did in a campaign. ” “You threatened to cut a Democrat’s ears off once, didn’t you?” ' “Yes, and I would have done it if he’d continued to interrupt me while speaking. It was at a small town. I was addressing quite a crowd. Every now and then some one far back in the audience interrupted me. I finally saw that he was a fire-eating Bourbon Democrat. I pointed my finger at him and said: ‘I see you and know that you are trying to interrupt me. I have a pistol and knife with me. If you bother me again I will come down from this platform and cut both of your ears off. ’ I need scarcely add that I finished my speech without further interruption. ” “How did you get the title of judge ?” “That, like the glass-ball shooting campaign, is rather a joke. I was engaged in a lawsuit in this city, associated with Gen. Gordon. One day the General and I were walking down Broadway. I was telling him of some particular law points that I had been examining. He wits intently listening when a dapper young fellow, whom I knew walked up and addressed me as judge. He walked along with me, and it was judge this and judge that. I saw that Gen. Gordon was rather annoyed that our conversation should be interrupted, so I said to the dapper fellow: “ ‘My dear sir, I am not a judge, I never was a judge of any court, and I don’t deserve the title. Why do you call me judge ?’ “ ‘You are a dog-judge,’ he answered. “You could have heard Gordon’s laugh five blocks off. ”

The Zodiacal Light.

The zodiacal light is the name given to a faint column of light which may be seen rising from the western horizon in clear mornings in the winter and spring, and from the eastern horizon just before daybreak in the summer and autumn. This light really extends out on each side of the sun, and lies nearly in the plane of the ecliptic or earth’s orbit. As the course of the ecliptic is, to dwellers in northern latitudes, very near the horizon during the summer and autumn, in those seasons the light is extinguished in the evenings by the thickness of atmosphere through which it must pass. Near the equator, where the ecliptic always rises high above the horizon, the light can be seen about equally well all the year round. It generally is seen to extend not more than 90 degrees from the horizon, but in a clear atmosphere, between the tropics, has been traced all the way across the heavens, forming a complete ring. This appearance was first called to the attention of astronomers by Cassini about 1683; and for many years the theory was that it was caused by the sun’s atmosphere. Laplace was the first to demonstrate that this idea was incorrect, and to advance the theory, now generally accepted, that the appearance is caused by minute meteoric bodies revolving around the sun. Examined in the spectrum, the light emanating from the zodiacal appearance is seen to show not distinct chromatic lines, but a continuous sheen, which shows it to be reflected light only. The orbits of this meteoric matter —for each fragment is supposed to travel in a path distinct from all the others—must be highly eccentric, which accounts for the noticeable difference in the appearance of the zodiacal light at different times.— lnter Ocean.

“Push Along—Keep Moving.”

Such is the cry of progress everywhere. It is the watchword of the nineteenth century, written on every banner, carved on every blade lifted in in the cause of human advancement. —y“Pushalong—keep moving!” There’s a volume of good counsel in those words. To the young, just sotting out into life, they are of infinite value; they have an omniscient influence, girding the soul with everlasting vigor. If the arm grows weary and the heart faint, they tinge the future with the hues of triumph, and lead on the feet with hopeful strength; if obstacles rise in the way, “Push along—keep moving," from the lips of hope, is better than a Damascus blade in hewing out a path to victory. “Push along!” What if clouds, thick and heavy, are out before you! “Push along!” What* if your eyes see no signs of victory, and no gleams of hope! “Push along!” What if death stride into your household ring » and break all the shrines of idolatry? Mourn not hoplessly, look not always back, let the dead past bury, its . dead. “Push along—keep moving!" “Keep moving!” Nature cries it with her ten thousand tongues; the universe, as it rolls continually onward, echoes back the cry, “Push along! keep moving!” What your hand findeth to do, doit with all your might; pause not, rest not. “Push along!” It goes round the world like a trumpet-call, rousing up the slumbering, strengthening the weak, inspiring the fearful, urging the strong to continual conquest. It is everywhere the same, the spring and fountain of all true progress. Young man, if you would conquer in the battle of life, write this watchword upon your banner; “Push along—keep moving.”— American Cultivator.