Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 February 1894 — Page 6

TOPICS OF THESE TIMES.

FRIENDSHIP. ( In a recent published interview exiSenator Farwell, after recounting |his experiences of fifty years of life in Chicago, tracing his rise from a country youth who tramped the streets of the far western village for four months before finding employmentdown through a successful business and political career which has culminated in the fortune of a mill- _ ionaire and the great honor of having represented the important State of Illinois in the most dignified legislative body in the world —an honor that is sought for ablest aqd wealthiest men of our day as Beijs||t! almost the acme of human preferment —closed his remarks by saving: “That’s the story! There’s nothing in it!" Being asked if there was cot honor and hundreds of friends in it, he replied bitterly: “There'snothing in glory and friends — friends! I can count my friends on my hands and they are members of my own family. There is not such a thing as friendship in this world. Friendship is all theory. What you call friends are butterflies. They hover around you in the sunshine, and when the shadows come they disappear. If I want to make an enemy all I have to do is to help a man who is in deep trouble. He will hate me in the end because I have placed him under obligation. I believe after my fifty years’ experience lam what you would call a pessimist." This may all be true in Chicago, and we are not surprised at such sentiments when emanating from a typical Chicago business man, but we protest against the sweeping character of the charge that there is no such thing in the world as friendship. There may not be in Chicago, but there is in Indiana. It is entirely too rare a virtue, yet it does exist in numberless instances. Friendship cannot be measured by a money standard, and he who looks at it from that standpoint is evidently incapable of pure apd disinterested friendship. No man who has been bereaved and received the totally disinterested services and kindly care of his neighbors in his hour of trial can say honestly that there is no such thing as friendship. If a man has so lived among his neighbors for fifty years as not to have experienced this kind of friendship—when during the long and weary days and nights of watching and distress the great hearts of the people go out to the sufferer without hope of any earthly reward or compensation of any name or nature —then indeed he may comfort his soul with the bitter thought that there is “no such thing as friendship in all the • world." “Hope not to find a friend but what has found a friend in thee; all like the purchase, few the price will pay; and this makes friends such miracles below.” Again, a man must have lived a supremely selfish life, who. after fifty ’years can truly j say that he has not one single friend outside of his own family. Real i friends are indeed hard to hold, and i doubly so when a man proposes to I view them as stepping stones to a financial success, or when he measures his own efforts towards making friends by the probable amount of money that he can help them to make. Real friendship has quite a different basis, and his is a hard heart who has not found in the course of a long tife a few kindred spirits whose , thoughts and emotions and hopes and desires can gently blend with bis own, smoothing out the wrinkles sf care from an overtaxed brain and aching brow as naught on earth besides can do. Oh, there is, there is such a thing as friendship—almost aiiy place outside of Chicago. “Friends my soul with joy remembers, How like quivering flames they start. When I fan the living embers On the hearthstone of my heart. 1 '

A NEW DISPENSATION.

“About this time” look out for tigns in the heavens, earthquakes, (ailing stars, a change in the moon, j utter darkness and all the tribulations foretold as incidents of the approach of the grand catastrophe that has been foretold as inseparable from the general liquidation that must take place in all earthly matters prior to the final triumph of the elect and the final annihilation of the rest of mankind.. Something is liable to drop. Some people fully believe that we are “on the stroke of the midnight hour” and that those who fail to keep coal. Soil in their campaign torches at all hours are liable to fail to keep up with the procession and lose their supper. They hold that the crisis so long foretold Is about to eventuate in a manner that will convince the most skeptical of the truth of their “figgers.” They will probably be strengthened in their belief by the remarkable experiences of the mariners on the high seas this winter, who have in several instances, both on the At>

lan tic and Pacific, encountered “higl rollers?’ of unprecedented size, whicl they are at a loss to account for 01 theories heretofore accepted. Thei are thought to have been tidal, waves but there is no explainable cause so them in mid-ocean. The ships in al reported cases were all but wrecked, and the experience was totally un looked for and frightful and ex pensive to the last degree. Thi principal cases reported were thos< of the U. S. cutter Corwin, on i forced trip from Honolulu, which, ot Dec. 28, encountered a wave tha* broke over the starboard bow, land ing a deluge on deek and sweeping away fifteen tons of sacked coal, ano the Normannia," sailing from New York to Naples, which met a tidal wave Jan. 21, 76(kmileneastof Sandj Hook and was so badly wrecked that she had to put back to New York, Whether these happenings are real] j signs of the “last days" i.r not, theji are notable events that scientists may well consider and if possible explain. Less confirmatory of these weird theories, however, is the latest news from Europe. For the pasttwc years the situation on the continent has seemed to indicate a general war among the great powers, and huge standing armies and urgent and repeated calls for larger military establishments have seemed to forecast the near approach of the time when “wars and rumors of wars” shall frighten the wicked and console the righteous with the apparently near approach of that time foretold by Holy Writ, But row comes the intelligence that the powers find their great military equipment fully as expensive and burdensome as actual hostilities, and the further information that a sentiment is rapidly growing for a practical disarmament and mutual pledges for a lasting peace that will shortly usher in that glorious time “When the war drum throbs no longef And the battle flags are furled In the jubilee of nations And the Sabbath of the world.” Our i-eaders can interpret all these “signs” to suit themselves,and if they can square them with the prophecies of those who believe a new dispensation is just at hand we shall enter no objection, but rather will endeavor to give full details of the new order of things in these columns" at the earliest practieahdate.

ANCIENT AND MODERN POLICE LAWS.

The ancient Egyptians had a very practical way of dealing with the inevitable evils of life. We are told by history that in mighty Thebes — the wonderful capital whose ruined temples still inspire the traveler with awe, and feelings of astonishment that puny mortals could have reared such structures unaided by some supernatural power or force unknown to our progressive age—thieves of all grades were a recognized caste, with an organization and a chief whose word was law. Thieves who registered themselves in this caste were given a certain immunity from the penalties of the law. Those who did not and were caught were put to death. Thieves of the “caste” were

required to report the character of their spoils to their chief, who was a recognized official of the city government, and parties who had suffered from the depredations of the brotherhood could easily recover their property upon the payment of one-quarter of its value. It is improbable that such a law will ever be placed on American statute books, yet there is no doubt but what in so far as the recovery of stolen goods is concerned it would be an improvement on the existing order of criminal jurispruprudence. Few will contend that three-quarters of the value of goods stolen in this country is recovered, and it doubtful of even one-quarter is ever returned to the sorrowing owners. There is a possibility that modern progress in moral reform in all its branches is a very impractical and intangible quantity—looking well on paper and sounding well on the platform when set forth in the glowing sentences of elocutionary experts, but being sadly lacking in results when applied to erring human nature. That there will be a certain amount of sin and evil doing among a given number of people, ought to be a basis from which to start toward a better condition, and this fact should be recognized by reformers of all grades, and the sooner it is recognized, the brighter will be the hope for a reduction of the percentage. A devil cannot be transformed into an angel by law. The best that can be done is to hold the devil in check and by repressive laws curtail his power for evil and render his influence unattractive, unpopular and unprofitable, ever seeking to gently guide the stumbling pilgrim to the ways of wisdom, for “her ways Are ways of pleasantness aud all her paths are peace." King George, of Tonga, who resently died from influenza, had reached the age of ninety. He was converted by Christian missionaries about sixty years ago.

A STRING OF BEADS.

Luther Benson in Indianapolis News. I saw a drunken, father under convoy xis his little daughter. He sat In the car with" his head drooped in maudlin sleep upon the shoulder of his child, while with blushes, that came and went across her sweet, sad» childish face, she quietly sat, and bravely bore the burden of her shame. I saw a young hoodlum lash his horse, because his own awkwardness came near causing a collision of his cab with a cable car. I saw a pdliceman spring to the rescue of an old woman who stumbled on a street crossing, and fall, bruised and wounded, trampled and bleeding, in the discharge of his duty. I saw a pretty girl reach up with her daipti-ly-glovedhand to unfasten the checkrein of a tortured horse. I saw a beaten dog turn and fawn beneath his master’s brutal anger,, and I thought: Where is fonder or more forgiving friendship found? I saw a little golden-haired boy at a w'ndow of a house as I passed by, and when I waved my hand, lie kissed his in return. I saw a tired mother stoop to caress the child who fidgeted at her knee, in the depot waiting room. I saw another viciously slap her baby because it sought to fondle her cheeks with its sticky fingers. I saw a little girl get up without suggestion from her mother, and proffer her seat in the crowded car to an older person. I saw a wounded and dying bird brought down by a small boy's sling shot. I saw a hard-faced, iaborgrimed man step out of his way to protect a lost dog from a band of young street Arabs. I saw a small boy furiously beating his mother with his fists because she tried to carry him over a crowded and dangerous street crossing; and thus, I thought, we treat the tender providence that seeks to lift us against our will from evil ways.

I saw a little coffin in an undertaker’s window, waiting, empty—ah, for whom? What cradle-bed keeps, to-night, the precious head, destined so soon to sleep upon that satin pillow? I saw a crowd of prominent politicians come out of a liquor saloon and near by a dead swine hanging oh a butcher’s shambles, andl mused: Which of the two, the man or the defunct pig, is most truly dead? If life counts anything for bravery, chivalry and the ability to command respect, if we must have porcin e qualities either in two-legged or four-legged types, tet us have them inactive in death. I saw a careless nurse girl wheeling a baby backward in a perambulator, the sun, meanwhile darting beneath its tender eyelids. I saw a homely girl transformed into a beauty by a simple act of kindness accorded to a stranger. I saw a woman, gay an dissipated, lean out of a carriage window to laugh at and deride another, who wore shabby clothes and old shoes. I saw a thousand human faces, with only one here and there that was clean and sweet and true. I saw all San Francisco astir with the clash and turmoil of its sordid greed for gain. Nearer home I saw a young man fleshy and strong, with a putty face, drive by his old father without noticing him. The father in rags was standing on a street corner trying to sell a few potatoes. Once he had been rich; but misfortune and the expenses of a large family had made him poor, and his son, living in luxury, and inflated with pride, was ashamed of him and refused to speak to the father who rocked his cradle and fed him in his helpless childhood. Further along the street, I saw a little, crippled boy pushing a cart containing overalls, that his mother had made at four cents per pair. Some one, in sympathy, had given the boy an old, ragged coat, so much too large for him that it almost touched the ground. Suddenly great raindrops began to fall and as the boy turned his pinched, white face, all full of pain, up to the black sky, the drops struck his bloodless cheeks and bounded off. like drops of pearl from white marble. Then, timidly glancing around, to be sure that no one saw him, he took off his coat and spread it over the overalls, carefully tucked it in at the sides and corners, and with the rain beating down upon his unprotected little body, bravely pushed ahead the cart, painfully dragging along his wasted, crippled leg. A few days ago I sat beside a man, in his home, who was once a judge, a State Senator and a law partner of our “Tall Sycamore of the Wabash." He afterward held a high and hon-

COSTLIEST STABLE IN NEW YORK. Built for Louis Stern at an expense of $180,000.

ored position underdhe Government. He is a poet of ntucb ability, and the author of a book entitled. “TheWonderlandsof the Wild West.” Fourteen years ago we sat together in a hotel of the county capital. I watched his glorious eyes, so bright and clear, their depths beaming gentleness and intelligence, anon mellowed into tenderness and sympathy. As I looked again into those eyes, a veil of darkness clouded them, the light had gone out forever, and left him blinded in the dark. Speaking to me he said: “My friend, the last lines I ever read were the third and fourth verses of the first chapter of Genesis, where God said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light, and God saw that the light was good!’ In my affliction I have so often thought how good is light.” In a distant city, just after the twilight had faded, I overheard p father and mother in conversation with their five-year-old boy, who, having lost his bearings and for a time wandered vainly about, at last luckily found his way back to the hotel. The father in a loud, harsh voice demanded of the boy why he did not answer when called. The little one, trembling with fear, replied, “I did, papa, but I answered low and you could not hear me.” The mother, concealing a joy and gladness that quivered in her heart at his safe return, asked: “Where have you been and why did you not come before dark?” He answered: “Mamma, I was on the hill by the big school house, and after a while the big house went away and I started home, but the street got lost and 1 eouldn’t find the way.” Then a guiding hand safely led him back to his parents. How often are the lost lost forever and the children who wander away return nevermore. Long years ago a band of happy children went out into a great wood to gather berries and flowers. The youngest and smallest of them became separated from the older ones, and wandering here and there among the hilla, rocks and ravines, grew bewildered trying to retrace its steps, and only traveled farther the other way. It slept at night upon withered leaves. Wild beasts howled around its little bed. It rose morning after morning, changing its bed every night. It was lost. When hungry and tired it wept for its mother, while mother at home wept for her lost darling. Soon heats, rains, dews, hunger and travel were too much for the little one. It made its bed for the last time, and when rosy morning sought to awaken him he gave no answer. He was pale, and cold, and dead.

Arranging Home Tableaux.

To get to the actual working details the first thing to do is to select your room, writes Edith Townsend Everett in an article on “Helps in Arranging Tableaux” in the February Ladies’ Home Journal- One that connects by folding doors with the one to serve as auditorium is the best to choose. Let the entire space occupied by the doors be filled in with black gauze across the opening, and the foot and top lights placed behind it. This arrangement produces the effect of a thin mist, lights enough to be easily seen through, and yet softening the rugged outlines and bringing out the points of the picture at the back with a clearness that is wonderful. This gauze is one of the most important features in tableaux, and should no sooner be disregarded than the arrangement of the stage. Of course my readers understand that I am dealing only with such an entertainment as can be given in either || city drawing-room or the spaeiouß rooms of a country mansion. Verß few people, no matter how mucß they may enjoy theatricals anfl tableaux, can afford to set apart I room or hall for such purposes, coJ sequently preparations must be man whenever any such festivities arl contemplated. 3

Chicago Lost Its Gun.

Baltimore Sun. ■ The big Krupp gun arrived I Canton, Saturday, from Chicag! where it was exhibited at the World! Fair. In a few days it will betake! to Sparrows’ Point for transport! tion to Germany by steamship. ! is understood that the British steal! ship, Turret, which was to ha! taken the gun across, will not H available because of aD insufficient! of hatch room and the refusal of tfl vessel’s owners to cut a hatch lar« enough to receive it. The steal! ship, Longueil, which brought tIH gun over, may be rechartered fl the return trip of the great gun ! Essen.

THE FAIR SEX.

POETIC BALL GOWNS. There is more than one poetic idea carried out in dainty: ball gowns. One "that was worn at a private dance in New York last week was called an orchid gown. The skirt was of rich white armure quite close fitting all around save in the back, where it lay in heavy trumpet plaits. Around the bottom was a lace flounce festooned with “spider plants” of green satin, orchid color. The waist was of white armure, with a violet tulle dotted with black. The sleeves consisted of large bows of maize velvet, with emerald clasps find a hauging sleeve of the violet dotted tulle. The young lady wore short four-button gloves, the better to show her snow white arms, her heartless rivals say. She carried a

bunch of priceless orchids in one pretty hand and kept the other free for bestowal, should it be demanded. Some ladies like to flutter, and if they do not wear flounces or floating illusion they compromise on ribbons. Fluttering ribbons are pretty—there no doubt about it—and so is the gown that permits it. This dress has not been publicly worn yet, but it will certainly produce a flutter when it is. The skirt is shortdancing length—and made of mauve moire. Down the whole length of the skirt are equidistant lace points, and set between them all the way around are slots consisting of one loop and two fish tail ends of grass green sation ribon, showing reflets of gold. The corsage is of the moire except for the v shaped drapery in front, which is of the maize crape. There are tiny cboux of the ribbon set at the head of every loop and also on the top of the waist, where the ribbon is brought up in bretelles, ending on the top of the shoulder in high loops The sleeves are of mauve satin. This might well be called a pansy dress.

I I ■t Id ' | ■ Is

From the last number of L’lllustration is copied this dainty little picture of a corner in a Paris nursery. It shows a pretty form of cradle and the mother’s stylish dress.

OUR PLEASURE CLUB.

“Willie has a terrible cold in his chest.” “Dear me! How did he catch it?” “Went out one day without his chrysanthemum. Agent—The janitor will supply you with coal. Mr. Flathouse —Jumping Jupiter! What an innovation. Everywhere else I have always supplied the janitor. A letter written with one'sr own hand in considered more respectful and courteous than any other, Bishop Harrington, whose handwriting is execrable, wrote to a correspondent: “Out of respect I write to you with my own hand, but to facilitate the reading I send on a copy made by my amanuensis." PRETTILY PUT.

Priscilla —How do you think my hands look in these inousquetaire gloves? Prunell—Oh, immense.—Truth. “Dr. Blunder is building up quite a large business, isn’t he?" “Dear me, yes; the undertaker is busy night and day.” Ada—So Laura is engaged to Will Hazel. Elsie —Oh, it’s perfectly awful the wav she chased him up. Ada —Why yes; I had no idea she could run faster than you. “Is Mrs. Youngly really several years older than her husband?" She —Well, I should say not; she was only five years older when they were married six years ago. “Is Smith really going to practice law out in Arizona?” “I should think so; he sold his library and bought half a dozen re■Jiolgprg AN AWFUL THOUGHT.

“I say, Jim, if dad’s hand was as big as that how we’d have to suffer. —Life. Slie—The refreshments are all ruined and the flowers haven’t arrived. What shall we do? He —I’ll ask Mr. Longtalk to tell the guests what he saw at the Fair. (Twenty minutes later) —What did they say when He— Good-night. “I've lost my heart," he whispered. Gazing at tier lovely eyes: Bnt fie maiden coldly answered, “Why don’t you advertise("■ Tom—When a man has done a f'ood thing there’s no harm in doing t over again! - Uncle Dick —I should say not, Tom—Well, you got me to sign the pledge a week or two ago. Uncle Dick—Yes. Tom—Well, I have concluded ts resign it. The world will never be entirely satisfactory until some woman whs bdieves in wearing one dress until it is worn out becomes a leader in fashion. “Insured, sir?” asked the agent as he coat-buttoned Tromley on the stieet. “No, sir," said Tromley. “We move so often there isn’t a fire that could overtake us." “Then," remarked the agent, briskly, “we will insure you against the friction.” AT THE MUBF.TJM.

The Human Elephant—Say, the india rubber mart got full last night. The Double Headed Man —What did they do to him? The Human Elephant—-Bounoed him. —Life.