Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 August 1889 — Page 2

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Thk Shah of Persia declines to visit as because there i« no one in our republican l&nd of rank sufficient to give him reception. There is George Francis Train, who could be persuaded to fillthe bill; and what possible objection coaid be urged against P. T. Barnum? Count Joachim is, we believe, dead, and the question is not yet settled whether we have a “Bourbon among us” or not If this will not do the Shah to his satisfaction, we can assure him that the blood of the Stuart*, and Plantagenets, and Brunswickers, and even Hobensollerns runs in tk e veins of eome ot our cartmen, longshoremen and farffiere. It might be hunted np for the occasion. The Magas ne of American History presents historic and incontrovertible reasons for believing that the Declaration of Independence was not signed by any one on the Fourth of July, 1776 except by John Hancock as President, and by Charles Thompson as secretary; that the engrossed copy which bad been made on the Fourth of July was, by a happy afterthought, signed generally August 2; Jthat the approving vote was not unanimous on July 4, but was approved by several; that One of those who was present Jaly 4 and lip proved is not among the signers enrolled, that at least one-eighth of the signers were not. even members of Congress on July 4, 1776. So history gets pulled to pieces and facts displace Borne very pleasant and romantic fictions. A recent photograph from Hawaii shows a street scene in Hilo, the only important town on the largest islands. Amid the wealth of tropical verdure that almost hides the houses lining the roadway one is surprised to see a line of poles with cross arms well loaded with telegraph wires. So many wires would be adequate to the needs of a rushing business in a lively American town; bat Hilo has no electrical communication with any other island, and there is hardly another white settlement worth noticing on the island. The fact is these numorons wires are the telephone system of Hilo. This instrument is proving very acceptable to the rather indolent residents of warm climates, who are glad to be able to talk with their neighbors without going oat of doors. Mr. Hugh R. Mill says: Honolulu has a more complete telephone system than any town of the same sise in Great Britain.

Millionaires.

The sober-minded thinking people of this country have no feelings of envy or covetousness towards the millionaires. There is no communism in their hearts. They applaud the honest accumulations of riches and they commend the capitalists who invest in large enterprises that give employment to labor and pay just wages that will enable the laborer to live in comfort. But there 13 something wrong about any system of political economy that will not do more than this for labor. It should be so rewarded that something could be accumulated and laid by for misfortune. Every man who faithfully toils for a living is entitled to food aud clothing and a home —not a shelter but a home. He i 3 entitled to something for sickness and the accidents of life—something to provide against the perils of fire and flood and pestilonoa and famine and war-something for the education of his children and something for old age. The rich have all these, and they got them mainly from the labor of the poor. They got them by fair means or foul. When the yellow fever; visited Jacksonville what could the poor do butstay and suffer and die?— Bill Am.

A Poet in an Elevator.

Richard Henry Stoddard, the poet, is nothing if not democratic. Happe aing into the elevator of the M ail and Express building not long ago I was momentarily surprised at seeing the venerable poet with the cover of a tia dinner-pail on his lap> eating some Irish stew. It seems that the poet came into the elevator when the conductor was eating his midday meal. In answer to some jocose remark from the man of letters the elevator man asked his distinguished passenger whether he would not share his plain fare. “It Is only Irish stew,” added the man of brawn. To his astonishment the poet aooepted and for twenty minutes Stoddard rode up and down with the elevator, eating heartily of the stew and talking all the time in the interesting manner that only Stoddard can. I wat reminded of this inoident by the poet’s introduction a few days ago of tbs •levator man to his wife es “the gentleman with whom I sometimes dine.*

Pest Greatness Recalled.

Boch eater Poet-Exp re*-. “Yes, sir,” said the old actor, “I have had many triumphs on the stage. I remember way,back in the forties there wm a crowded house in Syracuse to see my Hamlet. At the end of the first act the got np rad left the thaHee.” “That was hardly a triumph, was il?” “Certainly it was, they couldn’t stand ray more. Ah! I was a powerful actor in the forties.”

THE EARTHQUAKE.

TROUBLES LIKENED UNTO AN r. - EARTHQUAKE. They Come to All Men and Shake Them Up—Business and Domestio Afflictions. Rev. Dr. Talmage preached at St. Paul, Minn., Sunday. Subject “The’ Earthquake,” Text- Act xvi., 31. He said: Jails are dark, dull, damp, loathsome places even now; but they were worse in the apostolic times. I imagine to-day we are standing inthe Philippian dungeon. Do you not (eel the chill? Do you not hear the groan of those incarcerated ones who for ten years have not seen the sunlight, and the deep sigh of women who remember their father’s house and mourn over their wasted estate? L sten again. It is the cough of a consumptive, or the straggle of one in the nightmare of a great h orror. You listen again and hear a culprit,his chains rattling as ho rolls over in his dreams, and you say: “God pity the prisoner.” But there is another sound m that prison. It is a song of joy and gladness. What a place to sing in! The music comes winding through the corridors of the prison, and in all the dark wards the whisper is heard: “What’s that? What’s that? * It is the song of Paul and Silas. They Cannot Bleep. They have been whipped, very badly wh toped. The long gashes on their backs a e bleeding yet. They lie fiat on the cold ground, their feet last in wooden socket*, and, of course, tbey can net s e ip. Bat they can ting. Jailer, what are you doing with these people? Why have they been putin here? Oh, they have been trying to make tbe world better. Is that all? Tbat is all. A pit for Joseph. A lion's cave tor Daniet. A blazing furnace for Siadrsfch. Clubs for John Wesley. An anathema for Pailip Melancthon. A dungeon for Paul aud Silas. Bat while we are standing in the gloom of the Pnilippian dungeon, aud we hear the miug.ing voices of sob and groan and blasphemy and hallelujah, suddenly an earthquake! The iron bars of the prison twist, ih 3 pillars crack off, the solid masonry begins to heave aud all the doors swing open. Tne jailer, ieeling ui inself responsible for these prisoners, and believing, in his pagan ignorance, silicide to be nonorabie— aince Bratus killed himself, aud Cato killed himself, kid Cassius killed himself—put his tword to his own heart, proposing with one strong, keen thrust to put an end to his excitement and agitation. But Paul criee out: “Stop! Stop! Do thyself no harm. We are all here.” Tnen I see the jailer running through the dust and amid the rutos of the prison, and I see him throwing himself down at the feet of the prisoners, crying ou'; “What shall I do? What shall I do? ’ Did Paul answer: “Get out of ttis place before there is another earthquake; put handcuffd and hopples on these other prisoners lest they get away?” No word of that kind. His oomp&ct, thrilling, tremendous answer, answer memorable all through earth and heaven, wa : “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” Well, we have all read of the earthquake in Lisbon, in Lima, in Aleppo and in Caraccas, but we live in an attitude where severe volcanic disturbances are rare. And yet we have seen fifty earthquakes. Here is a man who •has been building up a large fortune. His bid on the money market was felt in all the cities. He thinks he has got beyond all the annoying rivalries in trade, and he says to himself: “Now I am free and safe from all possible perturbation.” Blit in 1837, or in 1857, or in 1873 a national panic strikes the foundations of the commercial world, and crash! goes all tkat magnificent business establishment. Here is a man wno has built up a beautiful home. Hiß daughters have just come from the seminary with diploma* of graduation. His sons have started in life, honest, temperate and pare. When the evening lights are struck, there is a happy and unbroken family circle. But there has been An accident down at Long Branch. The young man ventured too fair out in the surf. The telegraph hurled the tarror up to the city. An, earthquake •truck under the foundations of that besatifnl home. The piano closed; the curtains dropped; the laughter hushed. Crash! go all those domestic hopes and prqppqcts and expectations. So, my triaads, we have all felt the shaking down of some great trouble, and there was a time when wo were as much excited as this man of the text, and we cried out a* he did, 4 What shall I do? Wnat tbs i i do? ’ The same reply that the ap >*t<e mi le to him is appropriate to u&: “iL-iitvd on the Lord Jesus Chnst and thou shiftt be saved.” There are some documents of so little importance that yon do not care to pnt any more than your last name under them, or even your initials; but there are some documents of so great importance that yon write out yoar fall name. Se the Savior in soipe parts of the Bible is oalled “Lord,” and in other parte of the Bible is called “Jesus,” and in other parti of the Bible he is called “Christ;” but that there might be no mistake tb >ut this passage all three names ourns togetaer—“The Lord Jesus 0 irist.” No 0, who is this being that you want mo to ttnst in and believe w? Men s ime times come to ms with credentials and certificates of good character, but 1 .can not trust them. There is some dishonesty in their looks that makes me know I shall be cheated it I confide in them. Yon can not "put your heart’s cinddenc iiu a man until you know what stud he i» made of, and am 1 unreasonable t » iay when I stop to ask you wno this is that you want me to trust in? No rnau would th nk es venturing his lite ff n a veast-1 going out to sea tiiit had nsver bte tinvacted. No, you must have the < trufieate hung amidships tailing i o r many tons it oair.es, an i ho v mug ago it was built, and who built it an t all about ih And yon can n)i,tx..eami to risk the cargo of mv immoitai interests oa b >ard any cra'tti l you tail me what it is made ot, and wuere it was mad- an i wbat it is. Wh a, then, I ask yon who this is yoa want me to trust in', you till me he was a very attractive person. Con e nporary writers describe his whole ance ss being resplendent. There was no nee t foe onr.se to tell the children t-> come to Him. 4 Suffer little children to come unto Me” wa* n t spoken to tne children; it was sunken to Itie dbciples. Toe children came readily enough wiCh-

out any invitation. No sooner did Jeans appear toan the little ones jumped from their mother’s arms, an avalanche of beauty and love, into His, lap. Christ did not ask John to put his head down on His bosom; John could not help bnt put his head there. I suppose to look St Christ was to love Him. Oh, how attractive His manner. Why, when they saw Christ coming along the street they ran into their houses; and they wrapped up their invalids as quick a 9 they could, and brought them out that He might look at them. There was something so pleasant, so inviting, so cheering in everything He did, in His very look. When these sick ones were brought out did He say: “Do not bring me these sored; do not trouble me with these leprosies?” No, no, there wa3 a kind look, there was a gentle word, there was a healing toueh. They coaid not keep away from Him. In addition to this softness of character there was a fiery Momentum. How the kings of the earth turned pale. Here ti a plain mau with a few sailors at his bock, coming off of the Sea of Galilee,. ?oing up to the Palace of tae-Csesars, making that paiace quake to the inundations, and uttering a word of mer:y and kindness which throbs through ill the earth aud through all the heavins, and through all ages. Oh, He was i loving Christ. Bat it was not effeminicy orinsipidiiy of character; it was aciompanied with majesty infinite and nnuipotent. Lest the world should not realizs His earnestness, this Christ mounts the cross. You say: “If Christ has to die, why not let Him take some deadly potion tnd lie on a couch in some bright and , beautiful home? If He must die, let dim expire amid aU-kindly attentions.” No, the world mußt hear the hammers m the heads of the spikes. The world must listen to the death rattle of the mfferer. The world must feel His warm slood dropping on each cheek, while it looks up into the face of His anguish. And so the cross must be lifted and a hole is dug on the top of Calvary. It Hast be dug three feet deep, and then she cross is laid on the ground and the mfferer is stretched upon it, and the ; nails are pounded through nerve and muscle and bone, through the right hand; through the left hand, and then they shake His right hand to see if it is fast, and they heave up the wood, half a boz 3Q shoulders under the weight, and they put the cross in the mouth of the hole, and they plunge it in, all the weight oi His body coming down forthe first time on the spikes; and while some held the cross upright others throw in the dirt and trample it down and trample it hard. Oh, plant that tree well and thoroughly, for it is to bear fruit such as no other tree ever bore. Why did Christ endnre it? He could have taken those rocks and with them crashed His crucifiers. He could have reached up aud grasDed the sword of the omnipotent God, and with one clean cut have tumbled them into perdition. Bat ao, He was to die. His life for yoar life. Oh. such a Christ as that—so loving, so patient, so self-sacrificing—can yon not trust Him? I think there are many under the influence of the Spirit of God who are saying: “I will trust Him if you will only tell me how;” and the great question asked by thousands is: “How? how?” And while I answer yoar question I look np and utter the prayer which Rowland Hill so often uttered in the midst of his sermons: “Master, help!” How are you to trust in Christ? Just as you trust any one. You trust your partner in business with important? things. If a commercial house gives you a note payable three months hence you expect the payment of that note at the end of three months. You have perfect confidence in their word and in their ability. Or, again, you go home expecting there will be food on the table. You have confidence in this. Now, I ask you to have the same confidence in the Lord Jesus Christ, He says: “You believe I take away your sins, and they are taken away.” “What!” von say, “before *1 pray any more? Before I read my Bible anymore? Before I cry over my sins any more?” Yes, this moment. Believe with all yoar heart, and you are saved. Why, Christ is only waiting to get from yon what yon give scores of people every day. What is that? Confidence. If these people whom you trust day by day are more worthy than Christ, if they are more faithful than Christ, if they have done more than Christ ever did, then give them the preference; but if you really think that Christ is as trustworthy as-theyare, then deal with him as fairly. Oh, says some one, in a light wav, “I believe that Christ was born in Bethlehem, and I believe that He died on the cross.” Do you believe it with your head or your heart? On this hinge turns my sermon, aye, the salvation of yoar immortal soul. Yon often go across a bridge yoa know nothing about Yon do not know who built the bridge, you do not know what material it is made of; bnt you come to it and walk over it and ask no questions. And here is an arched bridge blasted from the “Rock of Ages.” And bnilt by the architect of the whole universe, spanning the dark gnlf between Bin and righteousness, and all God asks yon is to wslk across it; and yon start, and yon come to it, and yon stop, and yon go a little way on and yon stop, and yon experiment. Yon say, “How do I know that bridge will hold me?” instead of marching on with a firm step, asking no questions, but feeling that the strength of the eternal God is under yon. Oh. was there ever a prise offered so cheap as pardon and heaven are offered yon. For how much? A million dollare? It is certainly worth more than that. Bnt cheaper than that you can have it Ten thousand dollars? Lass than that Five thousand dollars 7 Less than that. One dollar? Less than that One farthing? Less than that “Without money and without price.” No money to pay. No journey to take. No penance to' suffer. Only just one decisive action of the soul: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.” Bhall I tell you what it is to be saved? I can not tell yon. No man, no angel can tell you. But I can hint at it For my text orings me to that point “Thon shalt be saved.” It means a happy life here, and s peaceful death and a flliasfal eternity. It is a grand thing to go to sleep at night and |to get up in the morning, and to do Ibusinesi all day feeling that all is right between my heart and God. No accident no sickness, no persecution, no peril, no sword can do me any permanent damage. lam a forgiven child of God, and he U boned to see me through. The mountains may depart, the earth may bora, the light of the stare may be blown ont bv the blast of the Judgment hurricane; ba t life rad death, things present rad things to coma, are mine. Yes, farther . .... \ A ...

than that—it means a peaceful death. Mrs. Homans, Mrs. frigoumey, Dr. Young rad almost all the poets have said handsome things about death. There is h Ahing more beautiful about it When we stand by the white and rigid features of.those whom we love, and they give no answering pressure of the hand and no returning kiss of the lip, we dp not want auv body poetizing around about ns. Death is loathsomeness and midnight rad the ringing of the heart until the tendrils snap and curl inthe torture, unless Christ shall he with ns. I confess to you an infinite fear, a consuming horror of death, unless Christ shall be with me. I would rather go down into a cave oi wild beasts or a jangle of reptiles than into the grave unless Christ goes with me. I point you« to-day to the eternal Dakn of heaven. Are there any here that lam missing this morning? Oh, yon poor waiting maid! your heart’s sorrow poured in no human'ear, lonely and sad! how glad you will be when Christ shall disband all your sorrows and crown you queen unto God and the Lamb forever! Aged men and women, fed by His love and warmed by His grace for threescore years and tra! will not your decrepitu le change for the leap of a hart when you come to look face to face Boon Him whom having not seen you love? That will "be the Good Shepherd, not ont in the n ght and watching to keep off the wolves, but with the lamp reclining on the sunlit hill. That will be the Captain of our salvation, not amid the roar and crash and boom of battle, but amid hiß disbanded troops keeping victorious festivity. That will be the Bridegroom of the Church coming from afar, the bride leaning upon His arm, while He looks down into her face, and says: “Behold, thou art fair, my love! Behold, thou art fair!”

Rather Bright, Wasn't It?

Not a thousand miles from Boston dwells a man who has recently wed a lliird spouse. It was the somewhat eccentric whim of the second wife to Lo have a picture painted wherein she and the first wife were represented as standing together with their arms entwined about each other’s waists. When the third wife came into power she was at first somewhat puzzled to know what to do with this extraordinary production of combined affection arid art With genuine woman’s wit, however, she hit upon the idea of having the piece worked over, and with what result may bo judged from a conversation in regard to the picture which took place between the bride and one of her wedding callers. The visitor inquired if the picture represented relatives of the family. “No, not relatives,” the wife replied. “I believe the originals were distant connection of my husband, but the picture represents ‘Faith and Resignation. 1 It is thought that the figure of Faith resembles a former friend of Mr. Smith, but I cannot tell, as I never saw her.”—Boston Transcript.

How to “Hustle. ”

Housekeeper (in Kansas City)—“l don’t want nothin’.” Peddler —“I am not anxious to sell. I only stopped to remark that Chicago, ■where I’ve been peddlin’, can’t hold a candle to, Kansas City.” “Don’t believe it kin.” “No indeed, mum; Chicago is goin’ to the dogs fast. People there are awful poor, while in Kansas City I find everybody is just rollin’ iu wealth, and real estate’s a boomin'. Fast trains from Kansas City to New York won’t stop at Chicago in another year.” “What have you got to sell?” “Soap. Something new. Only $1 a cake.” “I'll take two.”—New York Weekly-

Official Return from Montana.

The Montana official board has finished the counting of the returns of the constitutional <jonveutLon election. The democrats have elected thirty-five. Breed, a labor candidate, is an old democrat, and the political preference of the one independent candidtate elected is unknown. Putting the independent in the republican and labor candidate in the democratic column the totals would be 39 to 36 —no change in tho majority ol 3. The total vote polled, taking the highest figure for each opposing candidate, was 10,597, of which tiio democrats polled 5,386 and the republicans 5,211. The labor candidate received 288 votes and the independent 360, making the full vote 11,425.

Truth is Stranger Than Fiction.

“You’ve been cashier at this concerp nearly twelve years, Mr. Cashup?” said the president, who was fueling benignly good natured. “Twelve years,” Baid Mr. Ca6hup, hi 3 hear' beating with thoughts of a raise. “And yet,” said the president, “yov have never onee run off to Canadi with the funds? Haw, haw!” Mr. Cashup, whose pulse sinks to th< normal as he recognizes the annua joke—“No, sir; it’s been mighty hare grubbing to get away with flB ever) Saturday; I think it would be all m) life is worth to try to get away witl any more.” Is dismissed on the spoi for impudence.—Robert J. BurdetU ia Brooklyn Eagle.

About Time For It.

The Oklahoma boom has dropped through a crawffih hole, and the land of alkali and sand is now inhabited by the few people who can’t get away -q m it, and sura as fate they are begining to dom ind admission of the territory as a stale. Oh. pshaw! let’s take in the whole country, m ike saperate states of Coney Island and the base ball grounds, and ba done with all thfs bother, once and for aHr And if the Ute reservation wants to come in as a itote let her come. Couldn’t be worse than som3 states we have In already.— Burdette in Brooklyn Eagle. *

NONE OF IT IN THEIRS.

Several irlsh Societies Decline to Participate in the Demins Annual Picnic. For some years past the Irish socioLies of every character in this city have been holding a united picnic and celebration,. the proceeds-es which have been by consent turned over for supposed national purposes. About three weeks ago a convention of representatives from the various societies met at Fitzgerald’s hall to make preparation, for a demonstration on tne approaching 15th of August but the indications are that ff it take place at all it will bo a fiasco and in no sense representative. Heretofore* and principally for the sake of harmuny, a certain Cl n-na-Gael element have been allowed to conduct the celebration undisputed but recent revelations are fikhly to sadly interfere with anv of there future efforts ni the same direction. The united Irish societies are no longer united with the controling gang of the clan, and il the demonstration take place with the fervor and unanimity of former years the proceeds will have to be differently disposed of and accounted for. Thes3 August picnics had become general through the United States and were an immense source of revenue to the “triangle.” They made no small figure in the grand total of ?1,230,000 which the late le;iders of the Ulan-na-Gael are said tb h|ave appropriated to themselves. Father Mathew mid Ancient Order of Hibernian men appear to be no longer willing to give their time-and means to the swelling of reciepjts for misappopriation. A meeting of several representatives of Irish societies was held last night, and the feeling among those present was to sever themselves from any d> moustration.ifhlch might be attempted on the day named. They did not doubt that a certain element could get up a big crowd at Ogden’s grove,but it would be in no sense representative, nor patronized as formerly by all Irish organizations. The united Irish societies hereafter will only unite when they know the exact purpose and aim in view and will insist on kuowing the disposition of the proceeds.—Chicago Times.

How Rockets are Made.

Rockets are made for three purposes; for signalling; for decorations or celebrations, or as projectiles in in war. For signals, the charge consists 0t.12 parts of niter, 2 of sulphur, and 8 of charcoal. The ornamental, or decorative, rocket is the one we see used on the Fourth of July, and the composition of which it is made comprises 122 parts of mealed or finely pulverised powder, 80 of niter, 40 of sulphur, and 50 of cast-iron filings. The main part of the rocket is a case, made by rolling stout paper, covered on one side with pasle.aroun d a wooden form, at the same time applying considerable pressure. The end is then “choke.l,” or brought tightly together, with twine. The paper case thu3 made is next placed in a copper mold, so that a conical copper spindle will pass up through the choke, and the composition is then poured in and p icked by blows of a mallet on a copper drift or pack-ing-tool made to fit over the spindle. The top of tho case is now closed with a layer of moist plaster-of-paris one inch thick, perforated with a small hole for the passage of the flame to the upper part, or “pot.” The pot re formed of another paper cylinder slipped over and pasted to the top of the case and surmounted by a paper eono filled with tow. The “decorations” are placed in the pot and are scattered through the air when the flame, having passed through the aperture of the plaster, roac hes a small charge of mealed powder, placed in the pot. Tho stick is a piece ol pine wood, tapering, and about nine times the length of the rocket It i< to guide the rocket in its flight. The decorations in the pot may be “stars,” “serpents,” “marrons,” “gold-rain,’ and so on. “Marrons” are smal piper shells filled with grained powder and pinned with quick-match. Serpents” are small eases about \ inches in diameter in which is a com position of 3 parts niter, 3 sulphur, 16 mealed powder, J charcoal. This com position is driven in the case, the top of which is closed by plaster-of-paris, having a small aperture through which passes a piece of quick-match. —Lieut W. R. Hamilton, U. S. A., ir St Nicholas. "

Ton Can’t Get to Europe Now. ~TSTewTork Sun: IF you haven’t bought your ticket you can't go to Europe this season before midsummer. The transportation facilities ki« greater than over before, but the craze for European travel beats anything ever known. The same story is told at all the steamship odices. A few berths will be surrendered by per* sons whose plans miscarry, but practically all the lines are booked to their full capacity up to the middle of July. If the great fleet which will sail eastward from this port in Juno could b« doubled in number and capacity every boat would carry its full complement of passengers. The rush lasts frort the middle of May until about July lit Then it sudden’y stops and sets in is the opposite direction about two wee!;* ! later. All the accommodations on lh< favorite boats are engaged for the return trip* between the middle of August and the middle of October.

- A Happy M idiom. Hare aim in- life and set your sum Aud stick to it, whatever coma. ,1 ' ’ ..g - __ Don’t lounge about,a-chewing gum, .. ’ - And be a good for-nothing chum. But strike a. happy medium. Don’t work too hard of you’ll become A nervous wreck with feelings glum, Don’t slave to death to grab each crumb. But strike a happy ieed.uin. Swept on by tides of wrong and rum, Don’t drift and drift, like worthless scam. And make the fairest land a slum, Lend ear to truth an i not be mum. Ok, strike a happy medium. Oh! sweet is this, that there are some Who roar pot loud, or keep not dumb, W ho rightly work, who work and hum, And thus deserve their sugw-plum, So strike a happy medium, -E- B. Blackwell, Chicago Time 3.

A Romance of Courage. A few miles distant from tbe old college town of Hanover, N. H., there is a farm-house that was once the scene of a midnight fracas, in which a pretty girl was the heroine, and a set of Dartmouth college boys a most amazed crowd. As it happens, the girl is flow married to the ringleader in that escapade and they live very happily in a great city near the Atlantic coast, so the young woman must be called Jennie Smith merely to indicate that that was not her name. It was in the autumn of 188—that the Dartmouth college sophomores, having got over being freshmen, decided that the new freshmen were rising above their places in a way that was intolerable, and that a concreted system of hazing must be inaugurated to even up things. One of their chief oujects of sophomoric wrath was Gilbert Smith, a big, good-natured fellow, bho calmly refuse,! to recognizo in a sophomore anything superhuman. 1 •is Smith lived in the large farmhouse on the road to Lyme. A few C the more daring sophs got together and voted to raid the farm-house and instruct Smith a little. S was a black, chilly night when 11.0 band of regulators crept up the Lyme road toward the Smith farmhouse. It was dark in the house, exept one window, from which a light g.earned, as if to welcome friends instead of enemies. With no particular compunctions; however, the sophomores, after drawing over their head masks made of 6hirt-sleeves, stamped up the porch, and without knocking, filed into the sitting-room where JenSmith sat reading alone. Anyone no has ever seen a shirt-sleeve mask vill understand that the fiendish sight nade the girl’s pretty eyes fill with error. But while asking what they ranted in as steady a tone as she could itnmand, she knew what the answer would be. “Where's your brother Gil?” was the gruff chorus. “What do you want him for?” "To teach ‘him better manners,*’ came the sepulchral reply. “He is very sick in the next room,” said the girl, pleadingly. “You would not touch a sick man, would you?” Had the expletive “Rats!” then been invented the students would have used it unanimously,- As it was, they in various other ways expressed their conviction that the sickness was an invention to shield the big freshman, and they proceeded toward the chamber door with evident intention oJ opening it. The young ffi*\ vith blazing cheeks and flashing eye?, went over to the door and stixnJ ihc-e to bar the way. “Stop!” s v * cjrr>m.widcd, with both arms uplift »l -.s ir to ward off the whole world fiom the s’.ek mau within. The students, still disbelieving th« story of illness, though thoroughly admired her bravery, pressed a little nearer, and one raado as if to open tho door. Quick as a flash the girl caught a big cavalry saber from the wall where it hung and luuged savagely at the masked figures. This time they fell back, but not before the cloth over the face of the foremost wjas dyed with blood from a cut in the cheek. This ended the hazing, for uie boys valiantly begged her pardon and marched back to Hanover lost is admiration. The husband of Jennie Smith, who was not Jennie Smith, wears a saber mark on his cheek to-day—New York ■vess. ______________ 7 ha Under Dog in the Fight Upon one of Boston’s most fashionable boulevards serenely sits a statue in bronze of William Lloyd Garrison. He Is the same roan whom a well-dressed mob at one time pursued through the streets of the city which his statue now honors, and the, authorities wore obliged to confine him in jail to protect him from the fury of the mobbers. Giodarno Bruno, an Italian philosopher and heretic, was burned at th* stake in 1603. After almost three hundred years his statue has just been unveiled in Rome to the great acclamation of the people. For successive generations his nafhe has been hold in in fumy and has become a favorite appellation to give to dogs. Bruno, like many canine namesakes of his, was the under do’g in the fight So was Garrison, and so have been all the martyrs.* We may trust the sympathy of the people to Inevitably go to the bottom dog in the tussle, but someSmes it takes three hundred years to * so. Though the mills of Gods grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small. —Yankee Blade.