Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 August 1889 — Page 2

LIFE. LOVE. DEATH. - What Is - ‘ < J A moral strife fn Kl)m avt/) Knna tA win ffafn LH VIIOB ttliu UOllv. W Wluw'uw SW"5 W " From truth or wrong, or toil or sow; The mirth and tears and hopes and fears To dare and bear that each hath share,. And must endure, to matesJßQTg sure * 01 worldly rest—the soul’s sad quest. What is love? A trust to prove Each heart by pain aad less and gain. Through worth and wrong or shame or song; The joys and tears of faith and fears That make life fair, the precious share -// That doth endure and will make sore Of peace and rest— the soul’s life quest. Whatisdeath! A failing breath And then no pain of life, but gain From toll and wrong and faith and song; Or tears of years of worldly fears! From woe and care that mortals share And sad endure, comes peace made sure, Immortal rest—the souls blest quest! —Harriet Maxwell-Converse, Boston Tran script

DENNY’S LUCK.

BY WILLIAM G. PATTEN.

Dennis Lowry was his name, but every one who knew him called him Denny. He was a tall, rather goodlooking, yet sloiichy-appearing young fellow of twenty-two or three. Ho had always lived in the sleepy little country village of Newton, And every one for mile* around knew himl He was called lazy and shiftless, and it was true that he had never exerted himself a great deal to prove this charge false. Be was inclined to lay his poor circumstances to luck. Worse than being born poor, he had been unlucky. This was what he told himself, but people who knew him averred that he had never made any vigorous attempt to change hia luck. Denny was a dreamer. It was his delight to wander away through the woods or fields, and to lay all alone amid the sweet-scented grass and watch tho clouds as they sailed along above, or to follow the swift flight of the swallows as they circled and whirled at dizzy heights. He would lie thus for hours with his mind filled with wild fancies of the future when his luck had changed. Denny ' had a poet’s soul, but lacked a poet’s power of expression. Denny and Inza Porter grew up together. They were playmates while children, sad their friendship seemed to grow stronger as they became older. Denny was so kind and gentle that he teemed much like a girl himself. Inza was a little dark-eyed, red-lipped witch, whose very soul seemed always a-bubble with mirth. She was unlike Denny in many respects, yet something teemed to bind them together. Denny never knew when he began to love Inza. It seemed to him that he loved her always. She seeded a part of his life, and his dreams by night and day were colored by her presence. And so the days become weeks, and the weeks months, and the months years, still Denny was the game shiftless, dreaming, unlucky fellow. One night they wandered away across the fields to an old moss-cover-ed wall, where they stopped to watch ’ the sunset. Inza sat down upon a flat stone and Denny flung himself at her feet. The sun had just sunk behind the western hills, but the purple and gray clouds were painted with the varous colors of damask, crimson and molten gold. A rich purple haze bung about the distant hills, andstretched down' over the woodlands, growing fainter and fainter as the distance became less. A little stream wound through the hollow at their feet, from the farther side of which came the plaintive bleat ol a lamb. A slow--ly circling crow shouted hoarsely from away in a distant wood. “For several moments they sat there enraptured at the beautiful scene. Finally Inza spoke. “Isn’t it beautiful, Denny?” she He drew a long breath as though a sweet spell had been broken, and his eyes sought hers. “Beautiful!” he whispered, in a stml-thrilling way. “Yet the word does not express it. Painter or poet cannot reproduce the beauty, the peace, the love of God there is in such a sceue.” “Denny,” said Inza, in sudden conviction, “you should have been a poet; you have a poet’s soul.” “I know it,” he replied, with a touch of bitterness in his voice; “but I cannot put my thoughts on paper. I have tried, Inza, but I cannot express q hundredth part of what there is within me. It is my luck to be .thus unfortunate.” t For a long time after this they did not speak, but feasted their eyes on the scene before them. Finally Denny took Inza’B hand, and gazing into hex dark eyes, said earnestly: “Inza, I love you. You know this already. W# have grown up together, and our affection for each other has been no secret, yet no*4 wish to tell you that it is not merely as a friend that I love you, but I want you for my wife. Will you marry me?” ' Inza was startled. “Denny,” cried she, “you surprise me! I have not dreamed of hearing such words from you, and yet I—l have,” she confessed falteringly—“l have not allowed myself to think o| such things, for it seemed that when you spoke such words you would te&i us asunder forever.” “Why?” he asked, hoarsely. “Why teams asunder? If you become my wife that will simply bind us closer together.” “Denny,” she moke softly, “can you support a wife? We have been togather from childhood and I acknowledge that l love you, yet would I nol be a burden on your hands? You have nothing with which to begin life, and you say luck has always been agaiiiot you. Would not your situation be still worse were you married?” For a few moments his head fell upon hia breast They sat there in silence. From a pasture far away came the mellow sound of a cowbell and the crow that was still circling over the woods uttered a few Suddenly Denny started to his feel and stretched his hands toward the sun- “ There if s-old there!” he cried. “Gold in the western land! Yon can •M it reflected against the sky! Inza,

I am going there to make my fortune. From this hour I am going "to be a man and, Dennis Lowry’s luck shall jShlftgo. I will come back rich to claim you, Inza. Yon will wait for me, darling ?” Words were not needed for the answerf-onw-ieok -iatA her dark eyes was enough. He clasped her in his arms, and for the first tune their lips met in a kiss of true love. A week later Denny started on his journey. ~ Soon she received letters from Deany—hopeful, encouraging letters. She answered them ali trying to cheer him who was working for fortune—and her. He was in the mines, toiling, sweating, hoping. Others were making big strikes and securing fortunes; it would he his turn soon. But slowly a year dragged by and still Denny was as far from fortune as ever. His old luck hung by him like a spectre. Finally he ceased to write. Inza was tortured by hope and fear. Had he made a fortunate strike and was coming home or was he sick, perhaps dead? She could not tell. Another year wore away and then Inza wa3 married, It was a match of her parents’ making, and she consented, to please them. Her husband was a well-to-do young farmer, and was really fond of her. Inza found him kind and affectionate, and she surrendered her life into his care, feeling that perhaps it was host that she should do so. One evening just at sunset, eight years after Inza’s marriage to Joel Gray, a be whiskered, footsore, wearyappearing tramp turned into Mr. Gray’s dooryard. His clothes were ragged and Vis entire appearance was that nf a man who had seen hard times indeed. He came along the path with a slow tired step. Near the door a little dark-eyed girl was playing, and the tramp paused to gaze steadily at her for several minutes. Inza who was standing by a window with a baby in her arms, regarding the stranger with some alarm, saw him dash a tear from his eyp. Then she knew that there was nothing to fear from him. Just then Joel came from the barn yard with a brimming milk pail in either hand. The stranger "turned"toward him a 3 he approached and asked if he could have something to eat and a night’s lodging. “It is asking much, I know,” said the tramp, in an unsteady voice, “but if I do not find shelter, I must sleep beneath the open sky with only God’s green grass for a bed. I have seen better days, sir, but luck always was against me.” Joe! Gray had no particular love for tramps, yet there was something about this man that won his sympathy. As a result, the stranger was given some supper and permission to stop at the farm bouse that night. lb© tramp ate his bread and milk in silence; but Inza was conscious that a pair of sad blue eyes were watching her every moment. The man did not eat much for one who professed to be so hungry, and when Inza spoke to him he replied in © low, mumbling manner. When he had finished and- moved away from the table, little Lucy, Inza’s oldest child, came to him and deliberately climbed upon his knee. He gathered her up in his arms, while nis whole frame trembled with emotion. The child lay there trustingly, passing her. .fingers through the man’s beard and crooning to herself. And thus he held her while the twilight shadows gathered and she stopped her soft singing to close her eyes in slumber. The shadows concealed the tears that ran silently down the man’s face and were lost in his beard. No one saw him as he tenderly kissed the sleeping child. That night Joel Gray’s buildings were burned to the ground. To this day it is a mystery how the fire caught, but sometime in the night the family, was aroused by the smoke and flames. The fire had already seized the house in its fatal grasp, and with difficulty Mr. Gray and Inza escaped, tho latter with the babe in her arms. Close behind them the tramp came staggering out of the burning house. Joel caught him fiercely by the throat. “This is yonr work!” shouted the farmer, hoarsely. , The stranger dashed aside his assailant’s hands as he replied: “As God is my judge, it is not!” Inza seized her husband’s arm, as she shrieked: “Lucy! Lucy! Where is she?* ' • ’ “Great God!” groaned Joel, as he staggered as if about to fell. “She must be in there!’* “I will save her,” declared the tramp quietly; as he turned, sprang up tho steps and vanished through the doorway into the burning building. Every moment that followed seemed like an age of suspense and horror to Joel Gray and his wife. Suddenly q dark figure appeared at one of the windows, and all about him the fierce flames seemed leaping and ourdling. He held a large bundle in his arms. There was a crash of glass, a dark mass shooting downward, a heavy thud, and the tramp lay at their feet. Joel sprang forward and unwrapped the blanket that enveloped the form oi his little daughter, and to his joy found her alive, though nearly smothered. The stranger lay quite still where he had fallen. The farmer bent over the brave rescuer of his daughter, and as he turned the tramp upon his back, the man’* eyes opened, and he murmured: “Inza!” 1 5 There was something familiar in that voice to touch the very depths oi the woman’s soul. Quickly she benl over him. “Inza, don’t you knew me?” h« murmured. “Denny!” she cried, wildly, “Denny, .a it you? Have you come back aftei ali thesis years?” “Yes, I have come back, and 3 brought my old luck with me. I havi come back to die! lam going to trj my luck In another country, and with the Master to guide me, I thinkdt wil' turn for the better. The gold tha* seemed io be reflected against the sun set sky was not for me. This life hai been a failure, Inza, but I hope t* make amends up ydnder.” And while Joel Gray, the thrift! farmer, worked hard to save his catth and a part of his tools. Deimis Lowry the man of hard luck and a poet’s soul -A

lay dying with bis head resting in fnza'B l&p. ~He told her all his sad tale, his struggles, his sufferings and (allures. He whispered of a blow on bis head that had deprived him of his reason for years, and how, when he was once more himself, he had hastenr »d to find her. He loved her still, and his dyibg wish was that she might be happy always. And so, with the red light of the burning house all’ about him, he breathed his last in Inza’s arms, happy with her kiss upon his lips.—Yankee Bl&da.

Why Dr. Hawkes Declined.

North Carolina probably never produced, says the Washington Post, an abler preacher than Dr. Francis L. Hawkes, who a quarter of a century ago was pastor of Grace Episcopal church, New York. Short, thick-set, swarthy, black-eyed, and black-haired, he was a striking personage, He was not only a great pulpit orator, but considered the best reader in the New York episcopacy. His rather luxurious family deterred him from accepting a bishopric, which would have bee* otherwise tendered. One day a delegation from a Buffalo church waited upon and invited him to accept.a pastorate in that city. “Well, gentlemen, other things being satisfactory, the question of acceptance narrows down to a business matter,” said Dr. Hawkes. “What salary do you offer?” “Dr. Hawkes,” said the spokesman, “we recognize that you have a high reputation and are willing to be liberal. Our recent pastor has received $2,500, but on account of your standing we have decided to offer you $3,500.” “My good man,” cried the doctor, gasping, “do you know what salary I am receiving here?” “No, sir.” ‘•I get $15,000 and this parsonage, and as I have an expensive family I do not see my way clear to accept your offer.” ' • —— The spokesman looked rather Sheepish, but made another essay, “If we had known that fact, sir, we would undoubtedly have looked elsewhere; but you should remember that the work of the Lord must be done, and as for providing for your family, you know the story of the ravens.” ‘•Now, my friends,” responded the clergyman, quizzically, “I have made the bible my study ever since I was 28. I have read it through carefully and prayerfully over a hundred times. I I remember the raven incident perfectly, but nowhere can I find, any reference to the Lord’s providing for young Hawkes.”

A Poorly Paid Profession.

The actor whose salary is SSO or less per week is not, as 4 rule, aB well ofl as the clerk'or salesman who receives half the amount. The actor rarely gets his salary for more than eight months in the year, and when unpaid salaries and prematurely closed seasons are taken into account a still further reduction has to be made. Then, too, the actor, and - particularly the actress, has much greater expense for dress than any other person earning a proportional income, while th« cost of living, while traveling, in even second-class hotels, is double that necessary at home. At all the agencies lists of acton classed acording to their special abiliHes are kept, and the agent generally knows pretty accurately what salaries will be accepted. He is also supplied with pne or more photographs of his clients. A manager who wants either a single actor or an entire company states his wants to the agent, who looks over his list of unemployed people, and then submit* names and photographs to the manager. He selects two or three, who are requested to meet him at the office, and from these a final choice is made. Between 3,000 and 4,000 names are on the books of some agencies. These names include not only every class o! actor, but, stage-carpenters, propertymen, baggage-men, business mane gers and advance agents.—New York Tribune.

Definitions of the Day.

A Cowhide—The barn. A Firecracker—The poker. The Golden Mean—Oroide. Beaver Lodges-Hat-racks. Navy Plug—A cannon balL A Gas Plant—The wind-flower. The Bell of the Ball—Dumb-bell. A “Kid” Glove—A number two. A Stem-Winder—The convolvulus. A Bad Pun—A counterfeit £1 note. Down and Out—The first mustache. Shaking Hands—A factory lock-out. A Club-House Bore—The corkscrew. Going the Rounds—Climbing a ladder. «-•’! A Secret Door—The mouth of lovely woman. The Consumption of Cigarettes— Pulmonary. The Deuce of Clubs—Coming home from ’em. One Hundred : Per Cent—Mephitis Americana. A Leaden Messenger—The district telegraph boy. The Lay of the Land—The non-cleri-cal population. A Coat of Arms—Any coat (When it hasn’t arm’s it’s a vest.) A Bootless Attempt— To get up-stairs without being heard by your wife.— Puck.

Opprobrious Epithets.

“Mr. Jones and Mr. Robinson a 3readful quarrel. I hear," said Mrs. Fangle. ' “You don’t say?” exclaimed ter husband. •‘Yes I do; and Mr. Robinson applied Ihe most expressive epitaphs to Mr. Jones."—Harper’s Bazar.

GUM-CHEWING AT THE CAPITAL

It Is Practiced at the White H&ttee and on the Supreme Bench, Washington is a city of gmn-chew-ers, says a letter to the Waterbury American—more emphatically so perhaps than any other city on the middle or southern Atlantic coast. The daintily flavored saliva-increaser is not only popular with schoolboys and schoolgirls; it permeates society from top to bottom, and a census of the men who delight to roil the waxy morsels undpr their tongues would be a surprise to -the country. The man who (next to the president) controls and directs the foreign policy of this administration uses a great deal of gum, but he takes it straight It is the pure product of the spruce trees which are so numerous in his native state. He says that gum-chewing is not with him an unreasoning habit “It aids my digestion,” he says. “J chew simply because of the good effect it has pn my stomach.” His better half has not that same excuse, for her digestion has steadfastly refused to be impaired by many years of the most excessively fashionable life; yet she f too chews gum. Not in public, though, for there is no greater stickler for a submissive yielding to the “proprieties” than Mrs. Blaine. There is gum at the white house. Mrs. McKee is an expert ehewer. and when llussel Harrison married exSenator Saunder’s daughter it didn’t take the western bride very long to pick up the habit from her sister-in-law. Passing down Pennsylvania avenue Saturday afternoon I noticed three ladies sitting in an open carriage waiting for the coming of a fourth, who was in a jewelry store. All three were working the muscles ol their jaws as rapidly as possible and the fragmentary conversation was frequently interrupted by gulps aud gurgles of the most distressing character. The fourth lady came out of the store in a little while, but before entering her she opened the everpresent sachel aud took from thence a little silvery covered square of something. She removed the wrapper dexterously anti then put the brown contents into her pretty mouth. In less than ten seconds thereafter there were four ladies—at the head and front of Washington society—riding down the avenue at high noon aud every one of them was chewing gum as though their lives would be forfeited if they stopped for an instant. Two of the judges of the Supreme bench of the District of Columbia are Incessant chewers and so is Justice Gray of the Supreme court of the United States. Gum chewing caused a good deal oi trouble in the interior department a few days ago. One of th’e lady clerks is a helpless victim to the habit an d lately had felt as though copious expectoration was necessary to crown, her masticatory efforts. A mischief loving gentleman whose desk whs in the same room took advantage of hex absence from her place to put a cuspidor near her chair. When the lady returned she notioed the presence oi the vessel and the smiles of her fel-low-employes and immediately, exhibited symptoms of very violent wrath. It mattered not that she had (unobserved, she imagined) used the rug at her feet as a receiver; She rushed ,at pnee ,to the secretary’s office and poured put her tale bf woe. If any member of President Harrison’s cabinet has a fine sense of humdr it is Gen. Nqble, and beneath a grave and courteous exterior he struggled on that occasion with a volcano ol laughter. He promised to have the alleged insult looked into at once and soothed the lady’s feelings. But the cachinnatory volcano was in a state of very,noisy eruption as soon as the fair gum-chewer had departed. Of course that was the last of the matter.

A Neat Retort.

The late Peleg W. Chandler, who was hard of hearing, was one of the most effective of war-time speakers. Every occasion illustrated his eloquence, and one demonstrated + he quickness es his repartee. At one meeHnghe was frequently interrupted by a blackguard at the rear of the hall, who kept shouting: “WTiy don’t you go yourself?” For a time Mr. Chandler’s deafness prevented him from catching Hie exacl nature of the interrupHon of which he had been for some time conscious. Al last Mr. Chandler caught the words oi Hie disturber. Then in the mildesl accents, which emphasized the force ol the words, he said: “Young man, if my ears were a* good as yours, and as long as yours, 3 shouldn’t be here tonight!”—Boston Transcript.

Jest Her Size.

Miss Blufflns—l want a pair of slippers. Two and a half is my size. Clerk—What! two and a halfP Miss B.—l believe I spoke distinctly —two and a half. [Tho clerk seizes a pair of slippers and a blue pencil, and retires to the rear of the store. Presently he returns.] Clerk—Here you are, Mise—two and a half, extra narrow. Miss B. tries on the slippers and aooepts them. After her exit, the clerk says to the proprietor: “You had better order some of those No. 5 B’s. I just sold her the last pair.”—-Amer-ica.

No Fireworks.

EUa— “Well, Ada is to be married aext week. I understand it Is to be a very quiet wedding.” Bella (who abhors the bridegroom)— "I should think that they would want to keep it os quiet as possible.”— Lowell Citizen. When some one asked Bnsan B. Anthony if it did not tine her to ahake hands, she remarked: “Yes, it does; bat not half so much as it did twenty years ago to stand all alone with no hands to shake at all.” .

IMMIGRANT GIRLS.

How the Innocent and Unprotected Are Cared For at Castle Carden. To few persons is the chance given to be of more use to their fellow men than to the Catholic fathers connected with Hie immigrant mission at Castle Garden. Rev. Hugh J. Kelly, after the death of th 9 late Father Riordan, was at the head of the mission until January, since which time the work has been ably carried on by Rev, Father Callaghan. I got some insight into their work yesterday in a talk with Patrick McCool, the veteran secretary of the mission. “During the year ’88,” he said “there were 44,300 Isish immigrants landed at Castle Garden, , A remarkable feature of this exodus was the large number of girls and young women who had come out to make a new home for themselves. At the home last year there were registered about 4,500 girls. These were not all Irish nor all Catholics, but they were all girls from ten to thirty years old, who had crossed the water alone; who were met by no friends when they landed, and who knew not where to go or what to do. Some of them had friends in Chicago or Buffalo or St. Louis, but were abso - lutely helpless from ignorance and inexperience when they stepped into Castle Garden, All these girls were held and sheltered and protected until their friends, if they had any could be communicated with; then they were sent to their destination aud met there by some one who saw that they got through all right. Those who had no friends have been found places at demestie service, etc. “You can hardly conceive how innocent and ignorant of the ways of the world some of them are. A few weeks ago we had a group of a dozen or so waiting here under our care for their friends. One by one they went away, as friends called for them, until only this one was left. She was a sweet-faced little Irish girl about sixteen years old, very much frightened and very lonely. I asked her where she came from, how old she was, and so got her to forget herself a while. Then I asked how many of them there were in family. Two older and three younger, she said. The eldest, her brother, worked when he could get work, and got ten pence to a shilling a day. Her father was dead. “ ‘An’ you-might have had a cow?’ I asked. * “ ‘We could keep none,’ she said. “ ‘And a bit 61 land where you raised a few potatoes?’ I asked again. “ ‘Yes, we raised a few potatoes. It was all we had,’ she replied. “ ‘That means that seven of you lived on potatoes and oatmeal, and thought you were rich when you got a bit of milk.’ , ‘lndeed we did,’ she said, with .tears in her eyes,; *an’ it was often we went hungry for potatoes and oatmeal. An’ it was to keep them at home that 1 came to Atderica.’ “I talked with her until I found out that that child, warm-hearted, ready to trust anyone who had a kind word for her, absolutely ignorant of the world anywhere except ‘in her own little parish, had made the journey alone in hopes of helping the old mother fill the little hungry mouths at home. She knew no one on this side. No, with her pretty face and figure it would never have done to let her go out in the world alone. She was taken to the home, and is now in service near Chicago in ft good home. That Is but one of a thousand instances. Every young woman vdio lands at Castle Garden unprotected, irrespective of race or religion, is cared for, and it is necessary, for you can scarcely realize the temptation that lay in wait for the unsuspecting immigrants, but none are so deep laid and cfevilish as those of the vultures who lay in wait for girls with attractive faces and manners. We get letters by hundreds from people who expeot friends, and no small part of our work lies in our correspondence, but it renders our work much more effective.” “How is the mission supported?” “Entirely by the generosity of the people. We get no municipal or state aid whatever.”—New York Star.

Why Alfred Went to School.

A little hit of precocity who is just experiencing his first season at school, and looking forward to vacation, does not take kindly to the educaHonal restraints imposed during school hours. A lively mite of mischievous humanity, he does not prove as amenable to discipline as the teacher would like, and the other day the teacher, grown out of patience with his frequent infractions of school rules, called him to her and said, somewhat stonily: “Alfred, what do you suppose you attend school for?” “To keep me out of mischief at home, so ma says,” was the prompt and candid re ponse.—Boston Budget.

Misdirected Energy.

He was a society dude of the first water, and he had been boring her for an hour with his insipidity “You—aii admi—ah self-made men, don’t yer. Miss Winthrop?” he drawl* ingly asked. “Very much, sir.” she said. - “Aw, thanks. You regward me as self-made, don’t yer?" “I do, sir. Ypq must have made yourself for you certainly are no» what God intended you to be.’?—D» troit Free Press. T •

OLD DONEGAL CHURCH.

An Historic Building' Dear to the Hearts of the Camerons. Old Donegal church, so frequently mentioned in sketches of Hie late Gen. Simon Cameron, is one of the most interesting relies of pioneer Christianity in this country. A Mount Joy (Pa.) dispatch says: East Donegal township in this county, w&a settled by sturdy Scotch-Irish emigrants more than 175 years ago. In 1728 they organized Hie East Donegal Presbyterian society. Li 1740 John Richard and Thomas Penn, the proprietors of Pennsylvania, conveyed to the society 200 acres of land for church purposes. In that year the church was built. It' replaces a log church which had been put up in 1724, in which the Rev. James Anderson, one of the first Presbyterian preachers in New York city, had preached since 1726, having accepted a call from Hie East Donegal church in that year. The present church is built of stone, the wails being covered with plaster. It stands in a grove of ancient trees. Originally it had but one door, a double one, on he southeast side,, but about 1750 a door was cut in each end and the interior somewhat changed to accommodate the increased attendance. The church has no steeple. Among the relics that are preserved with the church is the original communion table, a heavy walnut table, put together with wooden pegs. The table was used in the old log church as early as 1727. One of the most revered objects connected with the old East Donegal church, which is looked upon as part of the quaint sanctuary, is an immense oak tree that stands in the yard in front of the church and casts a vast expanse of shade when in leaf. This tree, although not less than four centuries old, is as sound and sturdy as it was when the aborigines camped beneath its spreading branehes. It is called “the wituess oak.” In 1777 the Rev. Colin McFarquhar, a learned Scotch divine, was pastor of the church. His wife and, family were ill the mother country, and, while he had never positively avowed his loyalty to the king, be had not shown that he favored the American cause in the revolution. His sermons often counseled conciliatory measures in the struggle, and the Sunday before the battle of Brandywine he was preaching such a Sermon. His congregation was made up of stern and uncompromising patriots, and on that day they resolved to give positive demonstration of their love for the American cause. They left the church before servioes were over, and taking the pastor with them, formed a cirole around the big oak tree, and with it as a witness, they swore an oath of allegiance to the colonial government and its cause, and compelled the Rev. Colin McFarquhar to do the same. A few days later the most of that band, under Hie leadership of the dashing and impul* sive Col. Alexander Lowry, fell at the Brandywine, and mingled their blood with its waters, , The old Donegal residence, so dear to Gen. Cameron, and where "he died, is near this ancient church, and is so situated that to drive upon its grounds requires a wide circuit around the church grounds. Some years ago Gen. Cameron offered to endow the church in the sum of SIO,OOO and secure the same sum from his brother William, to be used for the benefit of the Bociety, which was and is barely selfsustaining, provided the society would grant him the right of Way through a corner of the church grounds, so that he eould reach his own grounds without having to drive so much out of his way. He was then in active and the East Donegal congregation contained several prominent anti-Comer-on men. Under the lead of one of these the congregation refused the offer, an act since deeply regretted by the society. But this rejecHon of his generous offer did not serve to lessen ; Gen. Cameron’s affection for the old church, dear to him through boyhood association and by the presence of the graves of his father and mother in its burial ground. Only & few months ago he wrote a touching letter to his legal adviser in Lancaster, in which ha requested a lawyer to meet him at Donegal springs and draw up a paper in which the old church was to be substantially remembered.

Ugly But Still Useful

The Star of Fort Gaines, Ga., has a new editor, and a passage from his salutatory is as follows: “We feel like ,we have claims upon the people of Georgia, having been a preacher and pastor for forty-dear years; and having in that time baptized over 4,000 people, we feet, as Paul said, if any others have claims we have more, having labored more abundantly. But now oeing too old and ugly longer to be a pastor, we turn in this new direction hoping still to be able to do some good in the world, and to make an honest living for ourself and family. There will be, so soon as we can get under way, a religious cornerin the paper for Sabbath reading.”—Ex.

A Long Wait.

Mr. Hayseed (after a long, long, weary wait in a New Y r vk restaurant) “Seems to me that briled Philadelphia spring chicken we ordered is a long while coming.” Mrs. Hayseed (resignedly) —“I s’pOsc the train is off tike track.”—New Ycik Weekl/T