Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 August 1889 — Page 6

r v :p she Ikpublicatt.. Geo. E. Marshall, Publisher. RENSSELAER, . INDIANA

Th* White H*rt,;of Southwark, one of England’s most famous inns, whose his tory goes back five centuries, is being pulled down. It has been associated with Jack Cade and Mr. Pickwick Shakespeare makes Cade **y T in “Henry YL”: “Will you needs be hanged with your pardons about vour necks ? Hath my sword, therefore, broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark?” Then in "The Chronicles of the Grey Friars” it is recorded that “at the Whyt Harte, in Southwarke, one Hawaydyne, of Sent Martyns was beheddya” in 1450. But more interesting than these events was the fact that here Mr. Pickwick met flm Weller, the White Hart ooots. Thb food consumed on one of the large steamships. from New York to Liverpool was as follows: Nine thousand five hundred pounds of beef, 4,000 pounds of mutton, 90Q pounds of lamb, 266 pounds of veal, 15C pounds of pork, 140 pounds of pickled legs of pork, 600 pounds of corned tongues, 700 pounds of corned beef, 2,000 pounds of fresh fish, 50 pounds of calves’ feet, 17 pouads of calves’ heads, 450 fowls, 240 spring chickens, 120 ducks, 50 turkeys, 50 ceese, 800 squabs, 300 tins of sardines, 300 plovers, 175 pounds of sausages, 1,200 pounds of bam, 500 pounds of bacon, 10,000 eggs, 2,000 quarts of milk, 700 ponnds of butter, 410 pounds of coffee, 87 pounds of tea, 900 pounds of sugar, 100 pounds of rice, 200 pounds of barley, 100 jars of jam and jelly, 50 bottles of pickles, 500*bottles of sauces, 10 barrels of apples, 14 boxes of lemons 18 boxes of oranges, 6 tons of potatoes, 24 barrels of flour. Bomb visitors were going through one of the public schools. The teacher of. one of the classes stood up the pupils to show off in a recitation in history. It was a rapid cross fire of question and answer about the dates of battles in the Revolutionary war, and the visitors listened with interest and in silence. The last query put by the teacher was addressed to an intelligent, bright-faced little girl in a blue dress. The teacher asked: “When was the battle of Yorktown, .Susie?” “17JJ1,” promptly replied Susie. Then one of the visitors put a query to Susie. It was: “And what was the battle about, and where was it fought?” “I don’t know, ma’am. We won’t have that in our lessdn till next year,” responded Susie promptly and unabashed, and as if it were not fair to expect a little girl like her to know more than the dates of battles. Thißisa sample of the instruction in history given in the New York pnblic school system.

The Vatican and spam.

There have been several reports ol late from Rome that the pope has decided in certain eventualities to seek a place of refuge in Spain. This determination is supposed to have been reached, or announced to the cardinals, in a secret consistory recently held, * the first meeting of the kind convoked by Leo XIII. during his pontificate. From the view-point of political expediency it seems plain enough that Spain is the only European country in which the Prelacy could, with a due regard to the existing situation, elect to JSx its seat. Germany and Austria are barred, because they are the te-»>>bound allies of Italy, from whose encroachments, according to the hypothesis which we are discussing, the pope will feel himself constrained to seek deliverance. Quite as impossible would It be to look for an asylum in France, so long as the control of her governin' nt is shared by moderates of the Ferry type and the followers of Clemenceau who clamor for an absolute divorce of bhurch and state. The suggestion of Malta is equally absurd. Neither would England give up the fortified island which commands the central portion of the Mediterranean, nor could the pope accept it at the hands of a Protestant power. There remain Spain and Portugal, and hesitation in a choice between these two is inconceivable. We may add that it must be no Blight recommendation in the eyes of the Vatican that during the last seventy years the Spanish monarchy has remained outside the main current of European politics. Under the present regime, Spain has but little sympathy with France, and Bismarck has failed to use her as one of the pawns upon his choss board.—New Fork Sun.

An Important Discovery.

Bliffers > (reading)—“Science now recognizes a condition called ‘intoxication by raffiltion.’ Many cases of Irunkenness are cited in which the victim had touched nothing alcoholic, but bad simply been in the com pan v of Irinkera” Whiffers—“Gee Willikin! Cut that out 1 want to show it to my wife.” -New York Weekly.

Found Her Out.

m~ Dick—“ That girl loves you and not your rival!’’ Jack—“ Come, now, don’t create any false hopes.” “Oh, you’re right there, my boy. A flew moments ago your rival happened to mention your name, and she didn’t begin praising you,”—-New York : ; WIOKUi •" i v

DR. TALMAGE’S SERMON.

HOWEVER STRONG MAY BE THE HABIT OF DRUNKENNESS, There Is a Cuke in the Blood and Gospel of Christ—Rev, T. DeWitt Tai- - mage's Sermon at Helena, Mont., Last Sunday.' - Dr. Talmape’s text was, “Who Slew A 1 These!” 11. Kings, x., 10. “Drunkenness* the Nation’s Curse,” was Jda subject.—Hs said: I see a long row of baskets coming up toward the palace of King Jehu. I am somewhat inquisitive to find out what is in the baskets. I look in and I find the gory heads of seventy slain Princes. Aa ifce baskets arrive at the gate of the palace, the heads are thrown into two heaps, one on either side of the gate. In the morning the King comes out, and he looks upon the bleeding, ghastly heads of the massacred Princes. Looking on either side of the gate, 1 he cries out, with a ringing emphasis, “Who slew all these?” We have, my friends, lived to see a more fearful massacre. There is no use of my taking your time in trying to give you statistics about the devastation and ruin and the death which strong drink has wrought in this country. Statistics do not seem to mean anything. We are so hardened under thpse statistics that the fact that 50,000 more men are slain or 50,000 men less are slain seems to make no positive impression on the public mind. Suffice it to say that intemperance has slain an innumerable company of Princes—the children of God’s royal family; and at the gate of every neighborhood there are two heaps of the slain, and at the gate of this nation there are two heaps of the slain. When I look upon the desolation I am almost frantic with the scene, while I cry out, “Who slew all these?” I can answer that question in half a minute. The ministers of Christ who have given no warning, the courts of law that Save gi ven the licensure, the women who give strong drink on New Year’s Day, the fathers and mothers who have rum on the sideboard, the hundreds of thousands of Christian men and women in the land who are stolid in their indifference on this subject—they slew all these 1 I propose in this discourse to tell you what I think are the sorrows and the doom Of the drunkard, so that you to whom I speak may not come to the torment. Some one says: “You had better let those subjects alone.” Why,mybrethren, we are glad to let them alone if they would let us aloqe; but when I have in my pocket now four requests saying: “Pray for my husband, pray for my son, pray for my brother, pray for my brother who is a captive of strong drink.” I reply, we are ready to let that question alone when it is willing to let us alone ;but when it stands blocking up the way to heaven, and keeping multitudes away from Christ and heaven, I dare not be Bilent lest the Lord require their blood at my hands. I think the subject has been kept back very much by the merriment people make over those slain by strong drink. I used to be very merry over these things, having a keen sense of the ludicrous. There was something very grotesque in the gait of a drunkard. It is not so now, for I saw in one of the streets of Philadelphia a sight that changed the whole subject to me. There was a young man boing led home. He was very much intoxicated—he was raving with intoxication. Two young men were leading him along. The boys hooted In the street, men laughed, women sneered; but I happened to be very near the door where he went in—it was the door of his father’s house. 1 saw him so upstairs. I heard him shoutng, hooting and blaspheming. He had lost his hat, and the merriment increaMd with the mob until he came up to the door, and as the door was opened his mother came out. When I hoard her cry, that took all the comedy away from tho scene. Since that time, when I see a man walking through the streets, reeling, the comedy is all gone and it is a tragedy of tears and groans and heart-breaks. Never make any fun around me about the grotesqueness of a drunkard. Alas for his home! The first suffering of the drunkard is the loss of his good name. God has so arranged It that no man ever loses his good name except through his own act. All the hatred of men ana all the assaults of devil can not destroy a man’s good name if he really maintains his integrity. If a man is industrious and pure and Christian, God looks after him. Although he may be bombarded for twenty or thirty years, his integrity i? never lost and his good name is never sacrificed. No force on earth or in hell can oapture such a Gibraltar. But when it is said of a man, “He drinks,” and it can be proved, then what employer wants him for workman? What store wants him fora clerk! What church wants him for a member? Who will trust him? What dying man would appoint him his executor? He may have been forty years in building up his reputation—it goes down. of recommendation, the backing up of busi* ness films, a brilliant ancestry can not save him. The world shies off. Why? It is whispered all through the community, “He drinks; he drinks.” That blasts him. When a man loses his reputation for sobriety he might as well be at the bottom of the sea. There are men here who have there good name as their only capital. You are now achieving your own livelihood under God, by your own right arm. Now look out that there is no doubt of your sobriety. Do not create any moral suspi-j cion by going in and out of immoral places, or by any odor of your breath, or by any flare of your eye, or by any unnaturaj ush of your cheek. You can not afford it, for your good name is your only capital, and when that is blasted with the reputa, Hon of taking strong drink, all is gone. Another loss which the inebriate suffers is that of self-respect. Just as soon as a man wakes up and finds that he is the captive of strong drink he feels demeaned. I do not care how reckless he acts. He may say, “I don’t care;” he does care. He can not look a pure man in the eye, unless it is with positive force of resolution. Threefourths of his nature is destroyed; his selfr?s«*ect gone; he says things he would not |therwise say; he does things he would not Otherwise do. When a man is nine-tenths gone with strong drink, the first thing he wants to do is to persuade you that he can skip any time he wants to. He can not. The Philistines have bound him hand and foot, and shorn his looks, and put out his eyes, and are making him grind in the mill of a great horror. He can not stop. I will prove it. He knows that his course is bringing disgrace and ruin upon himself. He loves himself. If he could step he would. He knows his course is bringing min upon his' famify. He loves them. He would stop if no could. He can not. Perhaps he could three months or p year ago: not now. Just ask him to ston for a month. He can not: he knows he caa not, so he does not try. I had a friend who for fifteen years was going down under this evil habit He bad large means. He hod given thousands of dollars to Bible sociotiss. and reformatory Institutions of all sorts. Ho was verfifeenial an& very generous and very lovable, and whenever he talked about this evil habit he would say. “I can stop any time.” But he kept going on, going on, down, down, down. His family would say. “I wish you would stop.” Why,” he would reply, “I can stop any time if I want to.” After a while he had delirium tremens; he had it twice; and yet after that he sai|d, “I could stop at anytime E* wanted to.” He is dead now. What killed him 1 Rum 1 Rum! And yet among his last utterances was, “I can stop any time.” He did not stop it, because he could not stop it Oh, there is a point in inebriation beyond which, if a man goes, he can not stop! One of these victims, said to d Christian man: “Sir, if I were told that I

couldn’t get a drink until to-morrow night unless I had all my lingers cut off, I would say: “Bring the hatchet and cut them off now, ” I have a dear friend in Philadelphia, whose hephew came to him one day, and when he was exhorted about his evil habit, said: “Uncle, I can’t give it up. If there stood a cannon, and it was loaded, and a glass of wine sat on the mouth of that cannon, and I knew that you would fire it off Just as I came up and took the glass, I would start, for I must have it” Oh, it is a sad thing for a man to wake up in this life and feel that he is a captive. He says; “I could have got rid of this once, but I can’t now. I might have lived an honorable life and died a Christian death; but there is no hope far ma a»w; there is -no escape for me? Dead, but not buried. I am an apparition of what I once was. lam a caged immortal, beating against the wires of my cage in this direction and in that direction ; beat against the cage until there is blood on the wire? and blood upon my soul, yet not able t 6 get out. Destroyed, without remedy 1” I go further and say that the inebriate suffers from the loss of his usefulness. Do you not recognize the fact that many of those who are now captives of strong drink only a little while ago were foremost in the churches and in the reformatory institutions! Do you not know that sometimes they knelt in they family circle? Do you know that they prayed in public, and Some of them carried around the holy wine on sacramental days? Oh, yes, they stood in the very front rank, but they gradually fell away. And now what do you suppose is the feeling of such a man as that, when he thinks of hi 3 dishonored vows and the dishonored sacrament—when he thinks of what he might have been and what he is now? Do such men laugh and seem very merry? Ah there is down in the depths of their soul a very heavy weight, 1 go on and say that'the inebriate suffers from the loss of physical health. The older men in the congregation may remember that some years ago Dr. Sewell went through this country and electrified the people by his lectures, in which he showed the effects of alcohol on the human stomach. He had seven or eight diagrams by which he showed the devastation of strong drink upon the physical system. There were thousands of people that turned back from that ulcerous sketch, swearing eternal abstinence from everything that could intoxicate. Oh, is there any thing that will so destroy a man for this life and damn him for the life that is to come! I hate that strong drink. With all the concentrated energies of my soul, I hate it. Do you tell me that a man can be happy when he knows that he is breaking bis wife’s heart and clothing his children with rags! Why, there are on the streets of our cities to-day little children barefooted, uncombed and unkempt; want on every patch of their faded dress and on every wrinkle of their prematurely old countenances, who would have been in churches to-day, and as well clad as you are but for the fact that rum destroyed their parents and drove them into , the grave. Oh, rum, thou foe of God, thou despoiler of homes, thou, recruiting officer of the pit, I abhor thee! But my subject takes a deeper tone, and that is that the inebriate suffers from the less of his soul. The Bible intimates that in the future world, if we are unforgiven here, onr bad passions and apperites, unrestrained, will go along with us and make our torment there. In the future world, I do not believe that it will be the absence of God that will make the drunkard’s sorrow; Ido not believe that it will be the absence of light; I do not believe that it will be the absence of holiness. I think it will be the absence of strong drink. Oh! “look not upon the wine Jwhen it is red, when it moveth itself aright in the enp, for at the last it biteth like a serpent and it stingeth like an adder.” But I want in conclusion to say one thing personal, for I do not like a sermon that has no personalties in it. Perhaps this has not had their fault already. I Want to say to tqose who are the victims of strong drink that while I declare that there was a point beyond which a man could not stop, I want to tell you that while a man can not stop in his own strength, the Lord God, by his grace, can kelp him to stop at any time. Years ago I was in a room in New York where there were many men who had been reclaimed from drunkenness. I heard their testimony, and for the first time in my life there flashed out a truth I never understood. They said: “We were victims of strong drink. We tried to give it up, but always failed; but somehow, since we gave our hearts to Christ, ho has taken care of us.” I believe that the time will soon come when the grace of God will show its power here not only to save man’s soul, but his body, and reconstruct, purify, elevate and redeem it. I verily believe that, although you feel grappling at the roots of your tongues an almost omnipotent thirst, if you will this moment give your heart to God he will help you, by His grace, to conquer. Try it. It is your last chance. I have looked off upon the desolation. Sitting under, my ministry there are people in awful peril from strong drink, and, judging!from ordinary circumstances, there is not one chance in five thousand that they will get clear of it. I see men in this congregation to whom I must make the remark that if they do not change their course, within ten years they will, as to their bodies, lie down in drunkards’ graves; and as to their souls, lie down in a drunkard’s perdition. I know? that it is an awful thing to say, but I can’t help saying it. Oh, beware! You have not yet been captured. Beware! As ye open the door of your wine closet to-day, may that decanter flash out upon you. Beware ! and when you pour the beverage into the glass, in the foam at tho top, In white letters, let there be spelled out to your soul, “Beware!” When the books of judgment are open, and ten million druukards come up to get their doonf, I want you to bear witness that I to-day, in the fear of God, and in the love for your soul, told you with all affection, and with all kindness, to beware of that which has already exerted its influence upon your family, blowing out some of its lights—a premonition of the blackness of darkness forever. Oh, if you could only hear this moment, intemperance with drunkard’s bones dramming on the head of the wine cask the dead march of immortal souls, methinks the very glance of a wine cup would make you shudder, and the color of the liquor would make you think of the soul, and the foam on the top of the cup would remind you of the froth on the maniac’s lip, and you would go home from this service and kneel down and pray God that, ti*ather than your children should Become captives of this evil habit Sou would like to carry them out some right spring day to the cemetery anc | ut them away to the last sleep, until at the call of the south wind the flowers would come up all over the grave—sweet prophecies of the resurrection. God has a balm for such a wound; but What flower of comfort ever grew on the blasted heath of a drunkard’s sepulcher!

Didn’t Get Any Liberty.

“Liberty! Talk of liberty in this co.utry!” he .sneered as he was asked how ho enjoyed himself on the Fourth. “Didn’t you go all the liberty there was?” i, “IluropU The ba..ks were shut, all public bui.jiiV’g’j closed and all busk ness suspended! i sat down on my varanda expecting to have a peaceful, enjoyable tiir*.” _“\Vell ?” “Well, it wasn't 10 o’clock before a collector can-.t up with a bill, and before night font of them had been there, and they were, all on outlawed debt* aflhst! Tidedom. Liberty! Bah!”— Detroit Free The long handled double eyeglasses now used so much by ladies seem to empower them with the privilege to stare. • —,'

THE QUAKER CITY'S SOLOMON.

Rough and Ready Decisions bY Magistrate Bob Smith of Philadelphia. “She has a right to ‘sass’ her husband.” “A man who has lived for six years with a woman who has a tongue like a bell clapper bias had a full share of punishment. --, • 1 The Solomon who utters these decisions, which have a smattering of common sensor Ifnot of law, is big bluff Magistrate Bob Smith, says the Philadelphia Record. His correct name is Robert R. Smith, but he is addressed by his full name only by utter strangers. From one end of the city to the other he is known as “Bob.” No magistrate is so well known in Philadelphia, and the fame of his decisions and judicial utterances has been carried to distant states. The magistrate is of sturdy frame, with a ruddy face and bright eyes, and he speaks in a sharp off-hand way that carries terror to the evil-doer. The especial antipathy of the judge is a wife beater or a pusband who has in other ways been remiss in his marital relations. His language to such affehdersJs severe. “You big, bulking brute!” he said to one of these creatures a while ago; “it’s a pity the whipping-post was ever abolished. Fellows like you ought to be tied up and lashed.” The justice is an ardent advocate of the restoration of the whipping-post for certain offenses committed by men, and it has been said that he also favors a return to the ducking-stool as a method of punishment for women of unruly tongues. He looks upon a common scold as being almost as bad as a wifebeater. —- “Now shut up and get out of here, all of you!” he has sometimes to say when a lot of wrangling women get to squabbling and bandying words in the sacred precincts of his court “I’ve heard all I want to from you. Skip now or I’ll put you all under bail.” But the most recent decisions of the magistrate have won for him the undying love of womanhood. He has decided that it is a woman’s right to “sass” her husband. The occasion of this queer decision arose from a suit brought by an up-town woman against her husband. “He beat me till I was black and blue,” the woman testified. “What did you do that for, you brute?’’said the justice. “She sassed me,” replied the husband. “Well, a woman has a riglit to sass her husband,” retorted Justice Smith. “Find SI,OOO bail, Madame, you go home and leave this fellow to me. ” The ink had scarcely dried on the decision in this case when another attracted the attention of the justice. A woman with rather lively tongue appeared against a man she called her husband. The fellow was as meek as Moses and about twenty-five years older than the woman. She started off with her story at a 180-words-arminute gait “Hold on!” cried the magistrate. “He’s a beast,” said the woman. , “How long have you been married to that tongue?” asked the justice. “Six years,” replied his meekness in the dock. “You’ve been punished enough. Open the gate and let him go,” said Smith. Beginning life as a machinist, Judge Smith in these later year? h« turned his attention to agriculture, and is famous as a g ntleman farmer atNorth Wales on the North Penn railroad. He carries into farming the same direct methods that have distinguished him as a justice, and sometimes uses his knowledge of farming with great effect 'n his court “So y >u arc a farm hand, are you?” he has been known to say to some unfortunate brought before him at Fifth and Chestnut streets, and who has given that as his occupation. “Well, now, how would you irrigate a field of rutabagas?” This generally has the effect ol breaking up tho Bupposed farm hand, and the judge smiles triumphantly to Clerk Moffett at bis unmasking of such deception. -

Flight of the Albatross.

Of all birds, the albatross has, perhaps, the most extended powers ol flight It has been known to follow a vessel for several successive days, without once touching the water, except to pick out food, and even then it does not settle. In describing the flight of thiß bird from personal observation, Capt Hutton writes as follows: “The flight of the albatross is truly majestic, as with outstretched, motionless wings be sails over the surface of the «®a—now rising high in the air, now with a bold sweep, and wings inclined at an angle with the horiaon, descending until the tip of the lower one all but touches the" crests of the waves as he Bkims over them. I have sometimes watched narrowly One of these birds sailing and wheeling about in aU directions for more than an hour without seeing the slightest movement of the wings, and .have never witnessed any tiring to eqva 1 the ease and grace of this bird as he sweeps past, often within a few yards—every part of his body perfectly motionless except the head and eye, which turn slowly arid seem to take notice of everything. ‘Tranquil its spirit seemed and floated slow. Even in its very motion there was rest’”—St James Gazette.

RATS IN POSSESSION.

The Rodents are Nightly Customer# of a Broadway Restaurant. A restaurant on Broadway, not a half mile from Canal Street, is the theater of performances every night that are hot down on the bills of fare. The play begins after dark and lasts until early morning. Usually it is still in action when the last spectator tires of watching through the unshuttered plate glass door and windows. Tho actors are rats. Four traps are placed around a large hole in the floor in such a manner that a rat crawling out would have to step on the spring of one of them and set it off; but the long headed little rodents are too sharp to be caught. They spring up through the hole, clearing the trap in safety. A little fellow about twelve inches long, after making hi3* appearance through the hole sat dowp and looked at the traps for a minute or two in a most sarcastic manner. Then with a whisk of his tail he sprang over the traps ana dived down the hole, only to reappear, followed by half a dozen of his companions. The traps are like ordinary fox traps, and do very little damago to the rats. When caught it" is generally by the legs, in which case the rat will gnaw off the limb or limbs and retire through another exit. Such casualties are rare. Several rats which appeared off and on throught the evening had but three legs apiece, but were nevertheless, as lively as the others. The rats ran across the floor and around the base of a cigar Indian in true Indian file, four or five in a string. A street urchin remarked that he would not spend the night inside in company with the rats for* all the money the restaurant made. “D’eir teeth ’ud go though shoe leather every .time,” he said. Two rats will meet and rub noses and run away again, or, if not friends, will have a regular Sullivan and Mitchell Bet-to. They gather in family parties of three or four at the tables for supper. One rat has lost its tail, evidently through being caught by a clam. The clams open their shells, and a rat, in looking around the oyster counter for a toothpick, carelessly lets his tail slip into the mouth of a clam. He will drag away the clam until he gets to the mouth of his hole, and then either he hangs there or his tail comes off. The rats are thick. There will ba twenty-five or thirty in one night, and one man said he had seen as many as fifty. A man passing called out, “What’s there?” and one of the urchin’s replied,, “rats.” The man was mad at first, but quieted down in an awe-stricken manner when he looked in at the window.. Another man, after looking at the rats, said: “Say, young man, are those rats?” The young man said, “Yes,” and slowly remarked: “I thought so, but I wanted to be sure.” Another man asked why ferrets were not used to exterminate the rats. His friend said that they had tried a ferret, and after getting all the blood he wanted, he played with the rats as though he was one of them.—New York Sun.

Not so Bad as All That.

It is well known that fishermen aftei getting a fare at the Georges make haste to get to Boston, as the earliest arrivals get the best prices. A worthy captain who sails out of Boston, having been fortunate enough to secure an unusually large quanty of fish, crowded on all sail and started for home. A severe storm arose, during which three men were washed overboard and lost. One of them was a native of Portugal. The 1083 was A severe blow to the captain, who had been congratulating himself upon receiving the commendations of the owners of the vessel for the very large fare he had secured. The news of the loss of men preceded the vessel’s arrival, and the owners were aware of it, and looked down with very grave faces upon the captain as he sheered alongside the wars. “We’ve got the biggest fare that’s come to this wars, you bet,” said tha captain. \ t.,-•' == “What good is that,” said one of tha owners, “when you have lost three men?” “Who says thatP” asked the captain. “Why, the tugboat brought iu tha news.” “That we’d lost three men?” “Yes.” “Well it ain’t so bad as that. Only two men and a Portugee.—Bosto* Courier.

Playing in Clean Sand.

The spectacle pictured to our imagination by the dispatches which reported the President of the United States seated on a bench at Cape May making sand pies with his grandbabies prompts a suggestion to those who have authority over the children’s playgrounds in this city. There is nothing in which a child would rather play than sand. Given a dozen children and a pile of sand, and you have s situation more suggestive of * ‘interested contentment” than can be found anywhere else outside of a “Ladles’ Ice Cream Parlor.” And sand is cheapcheaper than dirt, as any mother who tries to keep her children clean can tell you. We. believe no inconsiderable expenditure of the public money kOuld be made which would at once gratify a greater number of parents and give joy to a greater number ol children than an expenditure for sand piles to be hauled to the several places in the oity where the children are permitted to play, and we believe that President Harrison, now that he has had some recent experience in paddling and mixing in sand, would approve such an expenditure.—Washington Post '

Chances for Dull Boys.

Anxious Father—“l don’t see what Uto become of my son. He seems to be a born blunderer. ” Old Friend—“ Um—there is no reason why he should not succeed as well as the rest as a weather prophet’ l — York Weekly.

- I-- --7 -- f • The Songstress of Boston. f pictured her, the poetess, As young, and pthe, and slender; rhe shy, sweet charms of spring within Her dewy eyes so tender. f pictured her a fragile flower Who fed hot oh fair fancies; A creature aery, light as those - - We read of in romances. But when I saw this prodigy— ‘ This poetess of passion—to, she was rigged in all the rags And furbelows of fashion! wanner rather high and shy, ‘ Yet not exactly haughty; And, tho’ I’ll swear she was not fair, She was both fat and forty. And Oh, alas! and worst of aIL I saw, as I’m a sihner, This devotee of Erate Eat pork and beans for dinner. -Boston (Kobe.

“BE GORRA, I SAVED THE STARS."

A Story that Made Every Listener SprlnfftO His Feet. “I was present not long ago,” said the colonel, “at a banquet where an old army officer of English antecedents was on the programme to speak to the sentiment, ‘The Irish in the Union army—courageous and loyal Americans, they were as true as the truest, as brave as the bravest.’ This puzzled me greatly. Why should an American of English descent be called upon to compliment the Irish-Americans? I did not understand the situation until my friend, one of the hard fighters of the war, arose to speak. His speech was simply a little story, and yet it stirred me as few speeches ever did. “My friend of English antecedents sat near the center of a long table. Almost opposite him sat a stoutly built man who would have been handsome but for the fact that his eyes were sightless. This blind man received little attention except from the men who sat on either side of him, both of whom wqre Irishmen and strangers to tho majority of the guests. When the toast was read, speaking iu such enthusiastic terms of the Irish soldiers of the war, their faces flushed, and they sat erect, looking straight across at the man jwho was to respond. “My first surprise was in the manner of the speaker. I knew him to be one of the coolest and most unexciteable of men, but as ho rose to his feet I saw that he was controlled by strong emotion. He stood for a minute looking down the line at the table, as if studying the thoughts of every man present. Then he began in a quiet tone saying that when this toast was assigned to him he was puzzled to know why he should be selected above all others to speak of Irish courage in the Union army. “He had said as much to his wife, but as he said it there came to his mind an incident of his army life that made the whole matter clear to him. Then he proceeded to relate the story of his experience at the turning point ofjone of'the fiercest battles of the war. In the midst of a hand-to-do contest, when everything depended on every man doing his best, he recieved a blow that sent him headlong to the ground. When he regained consciousness he realized that a terrific struggle was being fought to the death above him. “The first objects to catch his eye were two sturdy legs in blue—the legs of some one standing astride of him. The owner of the legs seemed to bo bending this way and that to shield the prostrate officer from blows that were falling on his own devoted head. The fight waa over the flag, which was torn in fragments as the men struck and cut at each other in the fury of their wild excitement, but, happen what might, the one man standing astride the captain never moved his feet. The captain did not know who this stout defender was until in answer to a demand to surrender there carpe in Irish bogue, ‘To hill wid you!’ “He realized then that Pat Mcßride was fighting against odds for the flag and his captain. He realized, too, as blood came dropping down in his face, that Pat was sorely wounded. He knew this when in a few minutes he was dragged out from the heap of wounded and saw Pat fall down from loss of blood. They found wadded into Pat’s blouse that part of the flag containing the stars, and Pat’s only remark, as they strove to revive him, was, ‘Be gorra, I saved the stars’— stars, alas, that he could never see again. “This was in brief the story, but il was told by a man who felt every word, and was told so dramatically that at its close nearly every man at the table was standing on his feet. As the speaker went on to pay his tribute to the man who had saved his life, and piotured him as the ideal of soldierly courage and loyalty, tho blind man stood like one entranced, and as the speaker closed, he plunged across the table, reckless of glass and china, and with a howl of exultation, threw his arms about his old captain. “The scene that followed was simply indescribable. The story called out au the demonstrativeness of the Irish nature. The speaker was overwhelmed with congratulations and thanks. Listening to what was said, to other stories that this one story called out, 1 understood why the officer of English anteedents had been selected to speak of the courage and spirit of the men of Irish descent in the union army,”— Chicrgo Inter Ocban. “And now, IHU* girls," said a Sunday school taaaher, "you may tell me about the Epiatiea.” A Uttla gbrl held up her hand. l< wWt,” said the teacher. ‘-The Bpistit are the wifes Of the Apoatlee.”