Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 June 1893 — Page 6

THE REPUBLICAN. ■id - T ~ , - ■ - - ' * G sorge E M arshall, EDITOR. RENSSELAER - INDIANA

Indianapolis has a druggist who is a genius at advertising by street signs. Here is one of his gems, painted on a card-board by his own hand: “Stop here for a nice, freslr bed bug poison.” A cable car line is now in operation on Broadway, New York, an innovation that has been strenuously resisted for many years on account of the supposed danger to human life and the already overcrowded condition of that great thoroughfare. A home for epileptics was greatly desired by humanitarians in New York, and a bill providing for a State institution for the care of this class of unfortunates was passed by the State Legislature recently. Governor Flower, however, deemed it inexpedient to increase the number of State institutions at this time and vetoed the measure. A well-known practitioner of medicine in New York is authority for the statement that the grip is following the tendency of all other epidemics, and “that it is losing its virulence, though.still prevailing in ,some parts of the country. Very few fatal cases have been reported the past winter, as compared to the record of previous seasons. It has been the history of all great plagues that they run themselves out, even in districts where no precautionary measures are taken. Diseases die as as the people who have them. £<ie majority of men who devise fortunes to their children by will do not take the precaution of warning sons to beware of the methods b_ which the property was accumutosSd. Rufus Hatch, the New York speculator, however, deemed it his duty to warn his children in his will against gambling in the following words: “I earnestly desire that my children -shall not gamble in any way for money, as their father has had experience sufficient to serve for all posterity.” He also warned them against the use of liquors and tobacco in the strongest terms. The finding of the bodies of Rohl and Ballister, the escaped murderers who by some mysterious means managed to elude the officers while awaiting execution, in the Hudson river at Sing Sing, N. Y., not far from the prison from which they fled, opens a field for speculation and conjecture that should delight a romancer, but is not especially profitable for the general public. The story patched up by the officials that Palli ster probably killed Rohle and then committed suicide is very flimsy. Murderers fleeidg from execution are not likely tocGmmit suicide en route. The truth will probably never be known, but a more probable solution of the mystery is that the men were killed in an encounter with officers in pursuit, who threw the bodies into the water to save trouble, and afterwards “accidentally” found them. Mr. Ward McAllister, of New York disapproves of American millionaires taking a a permanent residence in Europe, and says that it is a puzzle to him why so many of our vastly rich people should leave the United States and settle abroad. He attributes the tendency largely to the fact that money in this country does noA bring to its possessor any especial recognition or importance. The masses of the people are too independent and are not obsequious to wealth in any marked degree, nor will our common people toady to the rich as is the habit and custom of the lower classes in England and on the continent. The comforts and elegancies of life are within the reach of such a vast number of people of comparatively limited financial resources in the United States, that the glamour that great wealth casts about a person in foreign lands attracts but little attention with us. Hence, people possessed of large fortunes have failed to receive the consideration and deference that they feel to be their due, and have gone abroad believing that they will be more respected and admired for the sake of their dollars. William Waldorf Astor has been the most conspicuous example of this modern tendency, but there have been other defections sufficiently numerous to indicate a well defined movement on the part of our wealthy people to settle on foreign soil. This is un--fortunaU' and UJ be regretted, but there appears to be no remedy. Admirers of the manly art of pugilism who have carried! the figure

of John L. Sullivan in their hearts as the embodiment of their idea of physical perfection will be interested in the latest exploit of this hero-of the saw dust arena. John L. having retired from the perch of the world’s championship, now travels about the country as the star of a theatrical Company, and en route, recently, from Biddeford, Me., to Concord, N. H., a one-armed lawyer had the effrontery to shake hands with a friend occupying a seat with the pugilistic giant. This aroused the ire of the great man, and he proceeded to pummel the lawyer in the most approved fashion, being aided in the assault by a member of the troupe. Naturally they “got away” with the: unfortunate disciple of Blackstone. It is not especially gratifying to know that it cost him $1,200 to get out of the scrape, al though that punishment is better than none. Loss of money does not trouble a beast. John L- Sullivan has lost the champion’s belt for pugilism, but the world will accord him without reserve the championship for cowardly and assinine conduct.

NEW CURE FOR CONSUMPTION.

Remarkable Results Achieved by a Japanese Physician. From Japan comes the news that Dr. Kitasato, who studied under Koch in Berlin and discovered the bacillus of tetanus, has actually succeeded in curing consumption in advanced stages by means of some new application of Koch’s remedies. The news was brought by Prof. Clay 'McCauley, of Tokio, who arrived at San Francisco, Thursday, May 18. He says: “The government has granted $45,000 to Dr. Kitasato for this year and $15,000 for each of the next two years to prosecute the study and treatment of cholera, abdominal ty phus, diphtheria and consumption. During the last winter Dr. Kitasato has accomplished some remarkable results with consumption. Four out of five patients who had been treated two months were discharged cured, and 125 who had been in hospital only a few weeks showed marked improvement. None of the patients had passed beyond the second stage nor had cavities in their lungs; but all were emaciated and had night sweats, several coughed 60 grammes of sputum daily. One had been in bed six weeks before being treated. All showed signs of marked improvement within a month. The sputum decreased and there was a gain in flesh. No publicity has been given to these remarkable results because the government hospital will not be completed before early in June. Then the announcement will be made and it is. expected that hundreds will flock to Tokio.”

MEN WE ALL KNO.

BY JOSH BILLINGS.

New York Weekly, The Polite Man. —The easyest thing to slide thru this world with, and hav everyboddy wonder how you do it, iz politeness. Politeness is like hunny and ile combined—sweet and slippery. The polite man duz a larger bizzness on a smaller kapital than enny one else I kno ov. Politeness is a very good substitute for branes, and i hav seen it sukceed whare virtew and modesty failed. The polite man iz often az hollow at heart az a kokonut, and sum ov the worst ded beats I ever perused were az bland and polite az a duv. But, generally speaking, the polite man iz a good man, lor politeness don’t seem to be mutch else but good natur properly edukated. If i could’nt hav neither wisdum nor virtew, the next thing I would pick out to travel with would be politeness. I hav seen folks so polite that they waz fairly silly; but this is a safe blunder to make. Politeness iz suratimes so plenty in a man that it makes him a bore; but i kno ov several things that are classed amung the virtews which if i had them i would be willing to swop them oph and take all mi pay in politeness. Politeness iz allwuss safe, even if it ain’t so smart. The Neat Man.—l don’t kno whether neatness iz put down bi the professors az one ov the virtews or not, but if it ain’t it onght to be. I never knu a thoroly korrupt person yet who waz thoroly neat. The neat man shines from hed to foot like anu pin; he steps az brisk az a bridegroom',' and will go two blocks out of his way to avoid the dust from an ash barrel. The neat man iz alwus particklar and precise, not only in hiz person, but in everything else; and theze two traits are minor virtews, at least. Yu never saw a neat man yet who waz not refined in hiz tastes to a certain degree; and tho hiz assosiashuns in life mayJje far from creditable, he allwayZpKeserves not only the appearancej but the tone ov respektability. Neatness, like charity, covers a multitude of sins, Pocahontas did not save the life of John Smith. It has been ascertained that this worthy man was the most able-bodied prevaricator of his century.

TALMAGE'S TRIUMPH.

The Brooklyn Divine Celebrates a Victory Over Debt. Likani the Occasion to the Rejoicings of Israel After the Passage of the Ked Sea. —— Sunday was a great day at the Brooklyn Taberriacle. The service was a celebration of the extinguishment of the floating debt. Dr. Talmage took as his text, Exodus xvii. 20. 21: “And Miriam, the prophetess. the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and 1 ■with dances. And Miriam answered 1 hem, Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he thrown into ttic sea.” He said: ~ Sermonizers are naturally so busy in getting the Israelites safely throughthc parted Red sea and the Egyptians submerged in the returning waters that but little time is ordinarjly given to what the > Lord’s people did after they got well up, nigh and dry, on the beach. That was the beach of the Red sea, which is at its greatest width 200 miles and at its least width twelve miles. Why is the adjective “Red” used in describing the water? It is called the Red sea because the mountains on its western coast look as though sprinkled with brick dust, and the water is colored with red seaweed and has red zoophyte and red coral. . This sea was cut by the keels of Egyptian, Phoenician and Arabic shipping. It was no insignificant pond or puddle on the beach of which my text calls us to stand. I hear upon it the sound of a tambourine, Tor which the timbrel was only another name. An instrument of music made out of a circular hoop, with pieces of metal fixed in the sides of it, which made a jingling sound, and over which hoop a piece of parchment was distended, and this was beaten by the knuckles of the performer. The Israelites, standing on the ’"■each of the Red Sea, were making music on their deliverance from the pursuing Egyptians, and I hear the israelitish men with their deep bass -oices, and I hear the timbrel of Miriam as she leads the women in ‘.heir jubilee. Rather lively instrument, you say, for religious services —the timbrel or tambourine. But I think God sanctioned it. And I "ather think we will have to put a 'ittle more of the festive into our religious services and drive out the dolorous and funereal, and the day may come when the timbrel will resume its place in the sanctuary. Brooklyn Tabernacle to-day feels much as Moses and Miriam -did when they stood on the banks of the Red sea after their safe emergence from the waters. By the help of God and the generosity of our friends here and elsewhere, our $140,000 of floating church debt is forever gone, and this house, which, with the ground upon which it stands, represents $410,000, I this day consecrate to God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. A stranger .night ask how could this church get into debt to an amount that would build several large churches. My answer is, waves of destruction, stout as any that ever rolled across the Red sea of my text. For me personally this is a time of gladness more than tongue or pen or'type can ever tell. For twentyfour years I had been building churches in Brooklyn and seeing them burn down, until I felt I could endure the strain no longer, and I had written my resignation as pastor and had appointed to read it two Sundays ago and close my work in Brooklyn forever. I felt that my chief work was yet to be done, but I could not do it with the Alps on one shoulder and the Himalayas on the other. But God has interfered, and the way is clear, and I am here and expect to be here until my work on earth is done. My thanks must be first to God end then to all who have contributed by large gift or small to this emancipation. Thanks to the men, women and children who have helped and sometimes helped with self-sac-rifices that I know must have won the applause of the heavens. If you could only read with me a few of the thousands of letters that have come to my desk in The Christian Herald office, you would know how deep their sympathy, how large their sacrifice has been. “I have sold my bicycle and send you the money,” is the language of one noble young man who wrote to The Christian Herald. : “This is my dead son’s gift to me and I have been led to send it to you," writes a mother in Rhode Island. But do you not now really think that- the Miriam of my text rejoiced too soon? Do you not think she ought to have waited till the Israelistish host got clear over to Caanan before she struck her knuckles against the timbrel or tambourine? Miriam! You do well to have the tambourine ready, but wait a little before you play it. You are not yet through the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. You will yet have to drink of the bitter water of Marah, and many of your army will eat so heartily of the fallen quails that they will die of colic, and you will, at the foot of Sinai, be scared with thunder, and there will be fiery serpents in the way and many battles to fight, and last of all muddy Jordan to cross. Miriam! I have no objections to the tambourine, but do not jingle its bells or thump its

tightened' parchment Tintil, you arc all through. Ah, my friends, Miriam was rteht. If we never shouted victory till we got clear through the struggles -o! thislife wewould never shout at all. Copy the habit of Miriam and Moses. The moment you get a victory celebrate it. ” Notice that Miriam’s song in my text had for its burden the overthrown cavalry. It was not so much the infantry or the men on foot over whose defeat she rejoiced with ringing timbrel, but over the men on horseback —the mounted troops! "The horse and his rider hath he thrown intx> the sea.” There is. something terrible in a cavalry charge. You see it is not like a soldier afoot, thrusting a bayonet or striking with a sword, using nothing but the strength of his own muscle and sinew, for the cavalryman adds to the strength of his own arm the awful plunge of a steed at full gallop.— Tremendous arm of war is the cavalry! The annoyances and vexations on foot we can conquer, but alas for the mounted disasters, the bereavements, the bankruptcies, the persecutions, the appalling sicknesses that charge upon us, as it were, with uplifted battleax or consuming thunderbolt of power. There are those among my hearers or readers who have had a whole regiment of mounted dis asters charging upon them. But fear not. The smallest horsefly on the neck of Pharaoh’s war charger, passing between the crystal palisades of the upheaved Red Sea, was not more easily drowned by the falling waters than the 50,000 helmeted and p lumed-riders on the backs of the 50,000 neighing and caparisoned war chargers. I expect to have a good laugh with you in heaven, for the Bible says in Luke, sixth chapter, twenty-first verse, “Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laugh.” We shall not spend all eternity psalpi singing, but sometimes in review of the past, as Christ says, we shall laugh. There is nothing wrong in laughter. It all depends on what you laugh at, and when you laugh, and how you laugh. Nothing it seems will more thoroughly kindle our heavenly hilarities after we have got inside the pearly gate than to see how in this world we got scared at things which ought not to have frightened us at all. How dften we work ourselves up into a great stew about nothing! But let me criticise Miriam a little for the instrument of music she employed in the divine service on the sandy beach. Why not take some other instrument? The harp was a sacred instrument. Why did she not take that? The cymbal was a sacred instrument. Why did she not take that? The trumpet was a sacred instrument. Why did she, not take that? Amid that great host there must have been musical instruments more used in religious service. No. She took that which she liked the best and on which she could best express her gratulation over a nation’s rescue, first through the retreat of the waves of the Red sea, and then through the clapping of the hands of their destruction. So I withdraw my criticism of Miriam. Let everyone take her or his best mode of divine worship and celebration. My idea of heaven is that it is a place where we can do as we please and have everything we want. Of course we will do nothing wrong and want nothing harmful. What a celebration it will be —our resurrected bodies standing on the beach, whose pebbles are amethyst and emerald and agate and diamonds? What a shaking of hands! What a talking over old times! What a jubilee! What an opportunity to visit! I am looking forward to eternal socialities. To be with God and never sin against him. To be with Christ and forever feel his love. To wal£ together in robes of white with those with whom on earth we walked together in black raiment of mourning. To gather up the members ofour scattered families and embrace them with nd embarrassment, though all heaven be looking on. My friends, we shall come at last upon those of our loved ones who long ago halted in the journey of life. They will be as fair and beautiful —yea, fairer and more beautiful than when we parted from them. It may be old age looking uponflHiildhood or youth. Oh, my Lord, how we have missed them! Separated for ten years or twenty years or fifty years, but together at the last, together at the last! Just think of it! Will it not be glorious? Miriam’s song again appropriate, for death, riding on the pale horse, 1 with his four hoofs on all our hearts, shall have been forever discomforted. I see them now—the glorified—assembled for a celebration mightier and more jubilant than that on the banks of the Red sea, and from al] lands and ages, on beach of light above beach of light, gallery above gallery, and thrones above thrones, in circling sweep of ten thousand miles of surrounding and upheaved splendor, while standing before them on “sea of glass mingled with fire,” Michael the archangel ? with swinging scepter, beats time for the multitudinous chorus, crying: “Sing! Sing! Sing ye to the Lord, for he triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea. ” __ Mrs. Gladstones friends give an interesting illustration of her faith in her husband. Three months before the general election che said: “When we go to Downing street we shall want a new cook.” Forthwith she set about finding a suitable person, and as soon us she discovered her engaged her in advance.

A JOURNEY BY RAIL.

Annabel Randall in Brandon Banner. The winter night was closing dark and drear, around the tumult and bustle of .the railroad station in the heart of the city. Without the snow fell, white and ceaselessly, and the fiery eye of the locomotive threw a line of light through the darkness for yards around., Hugh Southbank was walking slowly up and down the platform with his arm resting slowly on the shoulder of Alf red Neville, his dearest friend. Both were wrapped to the throat in furs. “So you are really setting forth, Hugh!” exclaimed Neville. “And when shall you return home?” “I can scarcely tell; certainly not in many years, and, perhaps never. I may become a Russian, or possibly pitch my tent among the palm trees of Palestine.” “Hugh,” said his friend, turning so as to look into the dark eyes that were partially hidden by the fur.trimmed cap of the traveler, “I remember when you were the quietest and most home-loving of prosaic individuals. What has changed you so entirely?” j “Time works changes in us all,” 'returned Southbank evasively. ; “Hugh!” said Neville, reproachfully, “surely we have not been fast friends for twenty years for you to deny me your confidence at last?” “I have no secrets from you, Neville,” replied Hugh, somewhat softened by the earnestness of his friend’s appeal. “Nor am I unwilling to confess to you that the whole current of m v life has been changed since that unlucky quarrel with Edith Sayre, six years ago. We both acted very like a couple of foolish children, and So we parted.” “And what has become of her?” “She married Charles Calthorpe years ago, and I have long lost sight of her.” “Why don’t you follow her example, my boy, and take unto yourself a wife?”- — , Southbank shrugged his shoulders. “Hello! here come your train! In with you, old fellow —drop me a line now and then, just to let me know that you haven’t turned Mussulman at Constantinople, or taken to tigerhunting in the jungles of Bengal. ” A Thdte was a cordial grasp of two earnest hands and then Alfred Neville stood alone on the platform, a mist that was not the dew of melting snow-flakes before his eyes, and the express trainjwas speeding away ’ through the gloom and darkness of the winter night. “Is this seat engaged, sir?” Hugh Southbank answered in the negative almost petulantly, for the conductor’s voice roused him from a deep reverie into which he had fallen. The twilight of the half-illumined car, the heated atmosphere within, and the swift, tremulous motion of the train, were alike favorable to dream fancies, and it was not particularly pleasant to be roused up to make room for a lady with two little children. “People haven’t any business to be traveling with children!” grumbled the fat man with spectacles opposite, across whose outstretched feet the little 4-year-old had stumbled. Hugh Southbank, whether out of the sheer spirit of con tradiction or from Christian charity will never be known, leaned forward and took the 4-year-old upon his knee while he assisted the lady to dispose of her manifold traveling bags and bundles. r -—“Thank you, .sir.-” The words were spoken so low that Southbank scarcely caught the sound, but the rosy little boy on his knee quite made up for his mother’s .taciturnity by clamorously demanding to see the stranger’s watch and rubbing his velvet cheek delightedly against the costly furs which edged Hugh’s traveling coat. “Papa had a fur coat like this—papa is dead!’ ’ chattered the 1 ittln fellow, lifting his brown eyes to Hugh Southbank’s with innocent confidence. Southbank did not answer. “And mamma is going to B ! Mamma has only $9 left,” went on toe small chatterer, “and- ” “Hngh, dear, don’t talk any interposed the soft, tremulous voice at Southbank’s side, with an accent that thrilled him to the very heart. Southbank leaned forward to get a glimpse of the face toat belonged to the sweet, low voice, but it was useless—the car was too dark. “And what is your name, my little fellow?” he asked, a sudden inspiration coming to his aid. “Mamma says I’m not to talk,” pouted the child. “Tickets; if you please," shouted the conductor, bustling down the aisle. “Hold your lantern here a minute, my man. Where did I put that ticket?” said Hugh, ostentatiously searching through the compartments of his pocketbook. “Oh, here it is—all right.” “All right” indeed, for in the full glare of the lantern he had discovered the key of that troublesome migma. Their eyes had met for one second and Hugh Southbank knew that Edith Sayre was sitting beside hitn. Through the lonely winter solitudes—through glens of icicle-hung trees and snowy ravines, and miles on miles of dreary hills and vales—darted the night express, its iron lungs breathing columns of fi«ry smoke, its solitary eye of red flame cleaving the darkness like a spear. Long ago the child on Hugh’s knee had fallen asleep. The baby’s blue

eyes were veiled beneath the tiny slumberous lids, but neither Hugh nor Edith evinced the least tendency to drift off into (dreamland, fqr the pate and beautiful young widowhad told the simple story of tier life to him who had once confidently hoped to share its vicissitudes. “Rut T am wearying you,” she said timidly. " 1 t ~ “No, Edith,” said Southbank, reproachfully. “Who should be interested in the history of your sorrows if not I?” “Jt is a year to-night since Charles died,” she added, “and I feel that it is my duty to exert myself for the benefit of those little ones, who are left penniless. Mr. Southbank, your circle of friends is large and influential —at least I know that it was. Can you tell me of any situation in which I could earn a livelihood, however humble? Hugh was silent an instant; he could scarcely realize that the meek, timid creature was the high-spirited Edith Sayre of stx years since. At last he spoke rather nervously. , ■ “I know of but one plan, Edith, which ! could confidentially recommend to you, and I fear, even in this instance, you will be unwilling to take my advice.” “I will do whatever you recommend, Hugh.” ! ‘Then you will let the six years that haVe passed be but a dream, and stand once more at my side as we stood together in auld lang syne. I have never ceased to love you, Edith. Will you forget the past and be my wife?”— __ “But the children, Hugh?” “They shall be my children, too.” Speed on your way, fleet-winged" night express. You bear within your iron arms two hearts that have gone through the ordeal of trial and suffering, to be happy at last.

MISTAKES OF HISTORIANS.

St. Louis Globe-Democrat. There never was such a person as Pope Joan, the so-called female Pontiff. Portia did not swallow the burning coals. The whole story wis certainly an invention. The stars are not innumerable. Less than 6,000 are all that can be seen on the clearest night. William Tell did not found the Swiss confederation, and the story of Gesler has no historic basis. There is no historic authority for the statement that little George Washington cut down the cherry tree. Water does net swarm with animalcule. ‘ All forms of life are missing from rain, spring-and good well water. The wonderful Damascus blades that cut liars of iron in two were not superior to the Toledo blades made day. The Pharaoh of the Exodus was not drowned in the Red Sea. His mummy. has been found, the skull split by a battle-ax. Alexander the Great did not weep for other worlds to conquer. There is reason to suspect that his army met with a serious reverse in India, a fact tjiat induced him to retrace his steps. The immense burning glasses with which Archimqjies burned the ships of the besiegers of Syracuse at ten miles distance were never manufactured, and it is now known that they could not be. Caesar did not say “Et tu, Brute. ” Eyewitnesses to the assassination, deposed that “he died fighting, but silent, like a wolf.” . . Vinegar will not split rocks, so Hannibal could not thus have made his way through the Alps. Nor will it dissolve pearls, so that the story of Cleopatra drinking pearls melted in vinegar must have been a fiction. Columbus did not make an egg stand on end to confute his opponents. The feat was peformed by Bruneleschi, the architect, to silence critics who asked him how he was going to support the dome of the Cathedral of Florence. Louis XVI. did not behave with overwhelming dignity at his execution. On the contrary he screamed for help, struggled with the executioners and begged for mercy. Nor did the attendant priest say: “Son of St. Louis, ascend to heaven.” The expression was used for him by a Paris evening paper. The blood of Rizzio, Mary Stuart’s favorite, cannot be seen on the floor where he was murdered by Darnley and the other conspirators. What is seen there is a daub of red paint, annually renewed for the benefit cf gaping tourists. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon did not hang, nor were they gardens. They were erected for the amusement of a Babylonian Queen who had come from a mountainous country. Charles IX. did not fire on the fleeing Hugenots from the window of the Louvre during the massacre of St. Bartholomew. On the contrary, he was frightened almost to death by the reports of the guns, and spent the time weeping and wringing his hands. Mary Stuart of Scotland was not a beauty. She had cross eyes, and to save the trouble of having her hair dressed cut it off close to her head and wore a wig. When, after her death, the executioner lifted her head io show it to tire people, the wig came off and showed a closecropped skull covered iwith gray hair.