Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 August 1879 — Page 1

Xlxe Sta.rLd-a.xd_ BMLIABLY BBBVBLICAif. —Published Evrkt Saturday,— MERVIN O. CISBEL. TZStIXS: One copy, one Year---. W ® “ six months ® “ three months Omen:—ln] Leopold's Won* Building, np r stairs, rear room.

FAITH. Hr (TLM THAXTKR. Fain ernisUl I hold my lamp life aloft Like vouder tower built nigh above the reef; . . Btesdfast, though tempests rave or winds blow m»B, ' the sky dissolve In tears of Kf>f J^kWAw-passes; Worms shall not abide. A little patience and the fog la past. After the sorrow of the ebbing tide The singing flood returns in joy at last. The night Is long and pain weighs heavily: But God will bold His world above despair. Look to the east, where up the locld sky* The morning eilmbs! The day shall yet be j fair!

THE MAIN BRIDGE.

It was - ' post midnight—the lights on - the atone bridge which crosses the riser Main at Frankfort were atlll burning, though the footsteps of passengers hud died away for aome time on its pavement, when a young man approached the bridge from the town with hasty stride. At the name time another man, advanced in years, was coining toward* him trotn Bachsen hausen, the well known suburb on the opposite side of the rjver. The two had not yet met, wlun the latter tamed from his path ami went toward the parapet from the.lyidge into, the Main. The young man followed him quickly and Inid head of him. “Kir,” said be, “I think you want to drown yourself.” "Whatis that to you?” ‘•I was only going to ask you to do me the favor to waitu few minutes and allow me lo join you, Let us draw close to each other, and, arm-in-arm. take the leap together. The idea of making the journey with a perfect stronger, who lias chanced to come for the same purpose, is really rather interesting. For many yeais I have not made a request to aiiy human being; do not refuse *ne this one; which must be my last.” The young man held out bis hand. His coinranion took it. He continued, with enthusiasm: “So be it; arm-in-arin. I do not ask who yon are, good or bad—come, let us drown.” The el«!fr of the two, who lmd at first been in so great a hurry to end his existence, now restrained the impetuosity of the younger. “Btop, gir,” said lie, while his weary eyes tried to examine the features of his companion. “Btop, sir. You seem to me to be too young to leave life in this way; for a man of your years life must have still bright prospects.” “Bright prospects!—in the midst of rottenness and decay, vice and corruption! Come, let us end it.” “And so young! Let me go alone, and do vdu remain here. JJelieve me, there are { many good and honest people who could render life charming for < youT Seek them, and you are sure to find them.” “Well, if life presents itself to you in hues so bright, I am surprised you should wish to leave It.” "Oh, I am only a poor, old, sickly -man, unable to earn anything, and who endure no longer tliat his only ohild, an angel of a daughter, should work day ami night to maintain him. To allow this kmgerl must be a tyrant, a Itarbarian." “What, sir!” exclaimed the other, “you have an only daughter sacrificing herself for your sake?” “And with what patience,' what sweetness and love, what perseverance! I see her sinking under her toil and her deprivations, and not a word of complaint escapes her pallid lips. She works and starves, and still has a word of love for iier father.” “And you commit suicide! Are you mad?” “Dare I murder that angel? Tli? thought jifest-vs-iny heart like a dagger,” sabl tfee rn-.tii, sobbing. “Bir, you hiust have sup|>er with me; I s«s «, tavern oi*sn yonder. Come, you ihdsit tdl me your history, and 1 will tell you mine. There is no occasion for you to leap into the river. I am a rich man; your daughter will no longer have to work, and’you shall not starve.”

The oW man allowed himself to be dragged - along by hfscompauion. Inn few minutes they .were seated at a table in the tavern, with refreshments before them, and each examining curiously die features of the other. Refreshed by the viands, the old man 'began thus: 7 “My history is soon told. I was a mercantile man; but fortune never favored me. I had no money myself, and loved and married a pour girl. I could never begin business on my own account. I took a situation as bookkeeper, which I held until I became useless from age, and younger men were preferred to me. Thus my circumstances were always circumscribed, hut my domestic happiness was complete. My wife, an angel ofldve, kindness; and fondness, was good and pious, active and affectionate; and my daughter is a true image of her mother. But age and illness have brought me to the last extremity, and my conscience revolts against the idea of the beet child in the world sacrificing her life for an old and useless fellow. I can not have much longer to live, and I hope the Lord will pardon me forestting oft a few days or weeks from my life, in order to preserve that of my dear Bertha.” i “You are a fortunate man, my friend,” exclaimed the young man, “ what you call misfortune is sheer nonsense, and can be cured. To-morrow I shall make my will, »nd you shall be the heir of tny possessions, and to- * morrow night I will take the leap from "Main bridge alone. But before 1 leave this world 1 must see this .Bertha, for I am anxious to look upon one who is worthy of the name of a human being.” “Sir, what can have made you so unhappy at this early age?” said the old man, tnoyed with compassion. “I am the only son of one of the richest bankers of Frankfort. My father died five years ago. and left me the heir to an immense fortune. From that moment, every one that has come Incontact with me has endeavored to deceive and defraud me. I was a child in Innocence, and confiding. My education had not been neglected, and I possessed ipy mother’s loviug. heart. My friends, and to whom I opened my heart, betrayed me, and then laughed at my simplicity; in lime I gathered experience, and my heart was filled with distrust. I was betrothed to a rich heiress, possessed of all fashionable accomplishments; I adored her with enthusiasm and love, I thought I would repay me for every disappointment

THE RENSSELAER STANDARD.

VOL- I.

But I soon saw that «*£***» make me her slave, sad yoke all other men besides to her triumphal chariot. I broke off the engagement, and selected a poor but a charming girl— a sweet, innocent being, aa I thought, who should be my life’s own angel. Alas! I found her one day bidding adieu with tears and kisses to a youth whom she lowAa she bad accepted me for my »-etf£?M*y. My peace of mind vanshed, I sought dlvereion in travel. Everywhere I found the same hollowness, the same treachery, the same misery. In short, I become disgusted with life, and resolved ?ttit aii end, this night, to the piUgble farce. "Unfartunatjfyoung man;” said the other, with tAars of sympathy. “I pity you. I counts 1 have been more f.irtuuate than you. I possessed* wife and daughter, who came forth pure aud immaculate from the hpnd of the Creator. The one lias returped to him In the whiteness of her soul, bud so will the other. “Give me your address, old man, and permit me to visit your daughter tomorrow. Also give me your word of honor that you will not inform her, or insinuate in any manner, that lam a rich man.” The old man held out his hand. “I give you my • word.' I am anxious tooouvlnoe you that I have spoken the truth. My name is Wilhelm Bchmidt, and there is my address,” giving him at the same time a bit of paper which he drew- from his pocket. “And my name is Karl Trait. lam the son of Anton Traft. Take these bank notes, but only on condition that you do not leave this house until I fetch you from it. Waiter! a bedroom for this gentleman. You require rest, Herr Schmidt. Good night. To-mor-row you will see me again.

• n. % | In one of the narrow and ill-lighted streets of Bachsenhau.Hen, in bn attic of a lofty and unsightly house, sat a blonde, about twenty years of age, busily employed with her needle. The furniture of the room was Clean and tasteful. The girl’s whole dress would not have fetched many kreutzers; but every article fitted her as well as if it had * cost hundreds. Her fair locks shaded a face brightened by a pair of eyes of heavenly blue. The spirit of order, modesty and cleanliness reigned in everything around her. Her features were delicate, like those of one noble born; her eyes betrayed sleepiness and anxiety, and ever and anon a deep sigh rose from the maiden’s breast. Suddenly steps were heard on the staircase, and her face lightened up with joy, she listened and doubt seemed to snaddow her brow. Then came a knock at the door, which made her tremble so much that she almost wanted , the courage to say “Come In.” A young man, shabbily dressed, enteral the room, and made a low and awkward bow. “I beg pardon, miss,” said he; “does Herr Schmidt live here?” “Yes, sir. What is your pleasure?” “Are you his daughter, Bertha?” “I am.” “Then it is you that I seek. I am from your father.” “For heaven’s sake, where is he? Something mast have happened— he has stayed away all nigh*t” “The misfortune is not very great.” “Oh, my poor, poor father J what shall I hear?” fr . The young man seemed to olwerve these visible marks of auxiety with great interest. He said: “Do not be frightened; it Is nothing of great ii»i>ortance. Your father met last night an old acquaintance, who invited him to a tavern. They had supper together, but wlieu the landlord came for his bill, your father’s . friend had decamped, ami left him to pay the score. He bad not sufficient money for this, and now tlie lmst will not let him go until be is paid, and declares that unless lie gets his money lie will send him to prison.” “To prison!” exclaimed the girl. “Can yoil toil %ie how much the bill comes to?” “Three florins and a half.j’ “Ob, God!” sighed the girl; “all I have does not amount to more than one florin, but I will go at once to Ma< lame Berg and beg of her to advance me the money.” “Who is Madame Berg?’” * “The milliner for whom I work.” “But If Madame Berg does not advance the money—wliat then?” The girl burst into tears. “I am afraid she will refuse. I already owe her one florin, and she is very hard.” “For what purpose did you borrow ihe money you owe her?” The girl hesitated to reply. “You may trust me.” “Well, my father is very weak, and requires strengthening. I borrowed the money to get a quarter of a fowl for him.’^ “Under these circumstances I fear Madame Berg will not give you any. I possess nothing. Have you any valuables more? Here is one florin, but that is all upon which we could raise some money.” Bertha considered for a moment VI have nothing,” said sheat length, “but my poor mother’s prayer-book. On her death bed she entreated me not to part with it, and there is nothing in toe world I hold more sacred than her memory and the promise I gave her; but still, for my father’s sake, I must not hesitate.” With trembling hand she took the book down from the shelf, “Oh, sir,” said she, “during many a sleepless night I have been accustomed to enter the secret thoughts of my heart on the blank leaves at the end of the book. I hope ho one will ever know whose writings they are; you will promise me that ?” “Certainly. Bertha. I will take care that your secrets are not profaned. But now get ready that we may go.” While she left the room to putou her bonnet and shawl, Karl Trust (for the young man was no other than oo£ hero) glanced over the writing in the book, and his eyes filled with tears of emotion and delight as he read the outpourings of a pure and pious heart; and when they had left the house together, and she was walking beside him with a dignity of which she seemed entirely unconscious, he cast upon her looks of respect and admiration. They first went to Madame IWrg, who did not give the advance required, but assured the yonng man that Bertha was an angel. Certainly this praise Mr. Traft valued higher than the money he had asked for. They pawned the

RENSSELAER, INDIANA, SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 1879.

book, and the required sum was made up. Bertha was overioyed. “But If you spend all that money today,” remarked the young man, “on what will you live to-morrow?” “I do not know, but I trust in God. I shall work the whole night through.” When they went to the tavern, the young man went In first to prepare old Mr. Bchmidt for the parths wished him to act; then he fetched Bertha. It Is impossible to describe the toy be felt when he saw the young girl throw herself in her father’s arms, and press him to her heart. She paid the bill, and triumphantly led him home. Traft accompanied them, and said he had a few more kreutzere in his pocket; she had better E> and get something to eat. It was te before Traft wenthome that night; but the leap from the Main bridge was no more thought of. He came to the house every evening, in order, as he said, to Bhare with them his scanty earnings. About a fortnight after, as he was going avay one evening, he said to Bertha: “Willyou become my wife? I am only a poor clerk, but I am honest and upright.” Bertha blushed and cast her eyes to the ground. A fe,w days after, the young couple, simply but respectably attired, and accompanied by Herr Schmidt, went to church, where they were married in a quiet way. When they came out, man and wife, an elegant carriage was standing at the door, and a footman in rich Uvery let down the step. “Come,” said the happy husband to his bewildered wife, who looked at him with amazement. Befare she could utter a word the three were seated In the carriage, driving away at a quick pace. The carriage stopped before a spleudid house in the, best part of Frankfort. They were received by a number of domestics, .who conducted them to apartments decorated in the most costly style. “This is your mistress,” said Traft to the servants, “and her commands you have henceforth to obey. My,darling wife,” said he then, turning to Bertha, “I am Karl Traft, one of the wealthiest men of this city.”

Death of a Remarkable Woman.

Borne forty or forty-five years ago, a man named Braham, an Englishman by birth, a Hebrew by race, took Great Britain and the continent of Europe by storm with the splendor of his vocal powers. There is perhaps no other case on reoord in which a vocalist of the first rank enjoyed the use of his organ so long. Between the first and last public appearance considerably more than sixty years intervened, during forty of which he held the undisputed supremicy alike in opera, oratorio, and the concert room. His career in Italy was one of continuous triumph. He appeared in all its principal opera-houses, and was universally regonized as being without a rival even in that land of song. He was bom in London in 1774 his family name being Abraham; apjieared on the stage of the Convent Garden Theater as early 1787; and died Feb. 17, 1866, at the age of 82. We are reminded of the career of this great vocalist by the announcement just made in the I ondon journals of the death of, Frances, Countess of Waldegrave. This woman was ths daughter of John Braham above alluded to. She was as remarkable in her sphere as her father was in his. She was a woman of extraordinary ability. Tliis must be acknowledged, as some of the leading Britsh journals admit that her death is a great loss to the party of England. Her countiy residence was the toy-castle which Horace Walpole builtatStrawberry Hill on the banks of the Thames. She had also a town house in Loudon, where she died of acute bronchitis. Her fattier embraced the Christian faith and his childreu were brought up in the Church of England. She was born in 1820, and was consequently in her 59th year at the time of her death. She was married no less than four times. Her first-husband was a Mr. Waldegrave. At his death which occurred in 1840, he left her his large estates. She next, in about a year, married a blood relation of his, the seventh Earl of Waldegrave, who died in 1846. At his death she came into possession of Strawberry Hill, and also into that of large estates which he owned in Somerset and Essex. The next year she married Mr. G. G. Vernon Hareourt. He dying in 1861 she married, for the fourth and last time, Mr. Chichester Fortescue. since become Lord Carlingsford. At tne time of the marriage he was Chief Secretary of Ireland. Lord Carlingsfprd is one of the leaders of the British Liberals, curiously enough, Mr. Fortescue was Mias Braham’s first love, and she his. It is acknowledged that the late Countess was a tower of strength to the Liberal party. Lor nearly forty years*she occupied a leading position in its councils Her residences at Chewton and Strawberry Hill, and her town house in Carleton Gardens, were ever open houses. In them, at her tables, ana asemblies, she received all that was great, noble and talented in English society. Mindful of her own origin, she always extended a helping hand and a generous patronage to rising talent in every walk of life. This her great wealth and also widely extended patronage enabled her to do. A London journal calls her a “Uady Bountiful,” whose good deeds are countless. In fine, the organs of both the great English parties agree in eulogizing her as the most charmiug, most genial, and most, charitable of women. TTiev also express the opinion that it will be a long time before the gap left by her death will be approfiriately filled. The traditions of her sa* on promise to be as famous as those of Holland House.

A First-Rate Chance to Marry.

A negro minister who married sooner after the death of his wife than some of the sisters thought becoming, excused himself as follows: , “My dear brederen and sisters, my grief was graeter than I could bear. I turned elwry way for peace and comfort, but □onecame. I sought the Scriptures from Ginißee to Rebelalion and found plenty of promises to de widder, but nary 'one to de widderer. So I took it dat de Lord didn't waste sympathy on a man when it was in his power to comfort hisself; at d habbln a ftws-rate chance to marry in de Lord, I did so, and would do so again. Besides, bredered, II oousider dat poor Pntsey ***** Joss as dead as she would eber be.”—Logansport Jourifkl.

CONDIMENTS.

Ajax defied the lightning, but it is worthy of remark that the Jersey variety was not then invented. Men drink whisky and imagine that they are strong and great, but it is all in their rye. .Hanging is capital punishment, especially when you’re hanging on some good looking girl’s arm. A sign not a hundred miles away reads: “ Coughins for sale here.’ That’s like consumption, Its a bad coffin spell. “Darling husband.” she said, “am 1 not your treasure?” “Certainly,” he replied, “and I should like to lay you up in Heaven.” “In the bright complexion of my youth I’ll have no such word as pale,” and she reached for the rouge box with the clutch of an angel. A college orator in a spike-tailed coat points the way to true greatness, and tnen goes and rents himself as a pitcher for a professional nine. The weather is not only unreliable but unprincipled. Last Sunday it rained all day on a camp meeting and shone all day Monday on a circus. A doctor to his son: “Johnny, wouldn’t you like to be a doctor?” “No, father.” “Why not, my son?” “Why, father, I could not even kill a fly.” Old lady: “Ah, you bad boy, draggin’ your little brother along like that. B’posin’ you was to kill him?” Bad boy: “Don’t care; got another indoors.”

Next season’s feminine hat will be run through a threshing machine, passed over a buzz-saw. buried under a flower garden, and named **The Last -Hope.” ” If you take your girl to a saloon, treat heron apple turn-overs; try one first, and see if there is any apple in it. A feigned tart never won a fair lady. A publisher offered SI,OOO for a story that would make his hair stand on ena. Many tried for the money; but nobody jjotß, because the publisher was totally A young lady, the other evening, kissed in tne dark a young man whom she mistook for her lover. Discovering the mistake, she said, “It’s not he, but it’s nice.” When asked how the ladies were dressed at a fashionable party, the other evening, a modest youth replied: “About as much as an oyster on the half-shelL” Cipher Is the very appropriate name of a New Hampshire oallooDist who has inveuted a new air ship. We suppose be is, iu all that the term implies, an airy naught. A Virginia editor, lately married, has become a preacher, while a Massachusetts minister has become a horse jockey. One was a take miss, and the other a mistake. ‘•When the swsllowh homeward fly,” “When the bloom is on the rye,’, “And the corn is gently waving Annie dear,” “I will meet yon at the gate,” Though It may be rather late, And for the 100th time pour tally In yonr ear. It is a little singular, although no less true, that one small but well-con-structed fly will do more toward breaking up a man’s afternoon nap than the out-door racket of a full brass band.

The idea of Professor Swift getting out of bed at 1 a. m. to go hunting for new planets! And when he captures one he can’t sell it for fifteen cents. There is more money in clams. ; Bays the Captain to Pat; “Come, til have none o’ that!” . As Faddy of whisky was drinking his fill. With a satisfied sigh, As he finished the “rye,” Bays Faddy; “be Jabbers, I don’t think you will I” “Mamma,” remarked an interesting infant of four, “Where do you go when you die?” “One can’t lie quite certain, darling. How can mamma tell? She has never died yet.” “Yes; but haven’t you studied geography?” A London newspaper relates that when a Frenchman, who fell overboard from the steamer which took the Cobden Club back from Greenwich, was rescue! and retured to the deck, the first thing he courteously said was that he hoped he had not kept the steamer waiting. “Have you any objects of interest in the vicinity?” the tourist asked the Burlington map. “I have! I have!” eagerly replied the other; “but I can’t get at it to show it to you. It’s a ninetv days’ note, and its down In the bank now, drawing interest like a horse car or a mustard plaster.” This is the season of the year where the good little boy refuses to go in bathing with his companions, because his mother forbid him. stays on the bank to mind their clothes, and scoots for home after tying knots in the sleeves of their trousers. A little daughter of a Connecticut clergyman was left to “tend door.” and, obeying the summons of the bell, she found a gentleman on the steps, who wished to see her father. “Father isn’t in,” she said, “butifit’sanythlngabout your soul, I can attend to you. I know the whole plan of salvation.” 1 A bashful lover trie# to woo A maiden fair and slender, Bhe trifled at the Interview, And scorned his accents tender. Bald be aside—“l will Invent A little necromancy, And lannch at her a compliment, To try and catch her fancy. Quoth she, with careless unconcern, “Your words they may be true, sir, I wish thatx oould Make return. And say the same of yon, sir.” “Oh, yon can do that very -Well, And do it now—provided - That yon make np your mind to tell As big a fie as I <yd ”

The Oldest of Showmen.

The New York Sun of ihe 18th Inst., contains a sketch of the life and adven • tures of Benjamin F. Brown, who was bora in Somers, Westchester county New York, January 11, 1799, and who now lives near crofcen falls—who fa the oldest of living showmen. I remember that I was on the Mississippi river when they were sending troops down to New Orleans to fight the British. I remember, too, that I was at New Madrid, Mo., when they had what they called “sand-blows.”

The ground rumbled, and then the sand shot up a hundred feet or so and scattered all around. It was something in the nature of a volcano. While working on my lather’s farm in New York State, Hachalie Bailey and Ed. Finch came along with a show consisting of an elephant andlalion, and they wanted me to travel with Bet, the elepant She was a big one. We used tosho v in barns, and we showed the elephant and the lion separate, and charged a shilling for seeing the elephant and a shilling for seeing the lion. That was before the the days of tents, My brother Christopher was the first man to put up a canvas. He had it in stripes ten feet wide and fifty feed long, ana he used to stretch in from the barn doors. In one season we cleared about 18,000 with the elephant alone. You see the expenses were next to nothing. They didn’t average twenty shilling a day. I worked for $26 a month. We used to have pretty rough times. We traveled in tne night, so that folks would’t see the animals, and persons collected in the road sometimes, and tried to stop us. Once in Pennsylvania, they collected in this way, aud one fellow threw a stone and hit me on the head and knocked me off my horse. I’ve got the scar. now,” and Mr. Brown placed his finger on a scar that showed: plainly through his thin hair. Mr. Brown traveled with Bet, the big elephant; for a year or so, ami then went home long enough to help iu the spring planting. He had made himself very useful to Bailey A Finch, but a disagreement about money matters led him to give up his situation. He was not long idle- Lewis Bailey, with one Brown, had a circus and they hired Benjamin to take care of the horses. Charles Biberry was a horse-breaker, and Brown soon became his assistant. It took little time topick*up the knack of breaking horses, and tot each boys to ride, and he devoted much of his time to doing so. Afterward Bailey A Brown put so much confidence in the young man that they divided their establishment, and sent part of it to the South in charge of Benjamin. They traveled through Tennessee, Kentucky and Ohio, and in those days these States were the scene of many bloody frays.

“After this,” said he, “I had a show of my own. It was a circus and a menagerie- The menagerie consisted of a few worn out, old animals. We were down to the West Indies and South America. The biggest card in my show was a boy named Levi, a Jew. He was a wonderful rider. We had a piece of canvas twelve feet wide, then a hoop eighteen inches in diameter covered with paper, a balloon it was called, and Levi hela in his hand a hoop nine and a half inches in diameter. He’d jump over that banner, through the balloon and through the little hoop all at the same time. That was called a big feat in those days.” Mr. Brown, with his circus, cruised among the Windward Islands, and traversed the Caribbean Sea. It was in the days when pirates infested those waters and made traffic Insecure, and the circus had many narrow escapes. The Rover was a well known piratical ci aft, and when Brown was about leaving one of the islands he was warned that his vessel was lying in wait. The circus was aboard a new brig, and its captain, who knew the waters well, navigated her through a difficult passage, and gave the Rover the sip for that time; but hardly had they reached open water before the wind went down and there came a dead calm. The night came on, and a strict watch was kept. By and by sharp ears heard the splash of oars away in the distance. The pirates were coming. They lay perfectly becalmed. “We had on board eight muskets and four or five pistols,” said Mr. Brown, “and I said to the Captain. ‘Are you going to defend this brig?’ •Of course,’ said he. ‘We might as well defend ourselves as to let them take us. The’ll make us walk the plank anyway.’ So we got out our arms and waited for ’em to come on. Thesplash of the oars came nearer and nearer, and by and by we could see their gleam in the moonlight. Just then there came a breath of wind that rippled the water. Then there came a stronger puff. Every sail was set to catch the breeze that blew directly from the stern, and pretty soon the brig began to move, and as the wind increased we walked right away from the pirates. But the Rover caught the wind, too, and was after us. Every rope and sail and blet was firm, and we just let her scoot. So we kept on all day, and the pirate followed us dead astern; but as soon as it was dark we took a square tack and let Mr. P. run past us, and that was the last we saw of the pirate.”

A Mennonite Camp.

New York World. The pier of the North German Lloyd, at Hoboken, was rendered picturesque last night by the eamping out of 336 Russian Mennonites who .arrived yesterday on the steamship Mosel from Bremen. A remarkable fact about the party fa the number of children included in it. Some of the couples have as many as twelve. At ten o’clock last night men, women anti children fay asleep flat on the pier ranged in long rows with walking Ways between, others were stretched out upon bales and boxes of merchandise, and in three or four places, men sat in groups of five or six, talking in subdued tones. Only the glare of camp fires, a little rurality ana the stormy sky overhead were lacking to make a typical wild Western scene such as would nave fired the heart of Captain Mayne Reid. The Mennonites come from the neighborhood of Odessa and represent a capital of over $400,000. Among them are sixty families, having 213 children. They are a remarkably fine looking party.

About Money.

Not one person in a dozen can tell the names of those whose busts are to be found on postage stamps. The bust on the one-cent stamp represents Franklin; twos, Jackson; threes, Washington; fives, Taylor; sixes,Lincoln ; sevens, Stanton; tens, Jefferson; twelves, Clay; fifteens, Weliter; twen-ty-fours,* Scott; thirties, Hamilton; nineties. Perry. The seven, twelve and twenty-four cent stamps are not now issued. Letters below the Eagle, on Silver coins, indicate the mint at which they were coined: Thus. S. shows the coin on which it is found, to to have been coined at the U, S. Bunt, atSan Francisco; C.C., Canon City. O. New Orleans; and those found blank, at the Philadelphia Mint.

A Jarocho

Suddenly, limned against such a background, a solitary horseman appeared. Photographed as hesat, a form of medium size rather sparely. built, with lithe sinewy limbs, and betrayed a vigorous life in his poise, his features, somewhat Moorish in type, but very handsome; an oval face, sharply defined: piercing black eyes, long Mack hair, lips and chin gparcely bearded, small, white, regular teetH, complexion of a dear brown, with a cinnamon or olive tint. He was dressed in foil ranchero costume, and more picturesque apparel is not anywhere to be found. A checkered kerchief bound abount the head, over which sat lightly a broad-brimmed hlack hat encircled with a band of shining pearls;amangaa circular cloak, of fo&rlet cloth, elaborately braided at the neck, fell back from his shoulders in folds as graceful as those of a Roman toga, showing the brilliant sash of scarlet crape around the waist; trousers of sky-blue velveteen; snow-white drawers, buff-leather boots, heavily spurred, completed the costume. This picturesque figure bestrode a fiery horse, pulled back upon its haunches in the suddenness of the halt, until his long tail swept the ground; both animal and rider remaining in that attitude for a few moments, as If suddenly turned into stone. It was a picture that could be seen only on Mexican soil—a Jarocho, pure and simple, the half-breed of the lowlands, the Gitano of the tierra caliente. Seeing him there, there was no mistaking him; from the crown of his broad sombrero to the sole of his Cordovan leather boots the dress proclaimed the man. Unlike the gypsy, to whom he bears so close a resemblance, and to whom his ancestry is eiten attributed, he is not a uomad, norjike him socially, either au outcast or a vagabond. The nominal proprietor of a few acres he is master of Che scenes around him, and varies intervals of leisure with occasional occupation. When not engaged as herder or agriculturist he collects honey from the forest, burns charcoal, hunts, fishes, takes a turn at peddling small wares, or turns his hand to smuggling.

A Dorn equestrian, the calling of vaquero, or cattle-hearder, best pleases nim. In this finds employment on the large grazing farms, in looking after the cattle ana horses that roam over the wide savannas. Such pastoral life is especially congenial to horsemen, galloping furiously over tile meadows and' through the chapparals. With estates where cultivation is carried on, he will have nothing |to do. Disliklug regular employment, agriculture savors too much of industry, since it necessitates toil. Systematic labor he leaves to. the patient and plodding Indian, who breaks the clod at this hour as in the days of Montezuma. A Jarocho on foot would be an anomaly, an impossibility. The idea of walking anywhere never seems to occur to him. His hone, or andante, as he calls it, stands ever ready saddled at the door, tied to a tree, or under a shed near at hand. If his errand be but fifty yards away, he never thinks of executing it on foot. He disdains a creeping method. Whatever the business, it must be executed in the saddle. Is water wanted to boil his frijoles, he slings a pair of water-jars that balance one another by a strap over the saddlebow. Then, mounting, he rides to the adjacent stream and wades in until the jars have filled themselves. Returning to the hut, he slips out of the saddle, and, if possible, leaves his wife or other member of the family to unload and secure the horse. Is wood needed to bake his „ tortillas, he brings it in the same free-and-easy fashion. Selecting a fallen log jst the forest —to fell one himself would be too much labor—he throws one end of the lasso over it and ties the other to his horse’s tail. Then mounting the animal, he drags the log to the hut, or more frequently inside, where it is set free and one end thrust into tne cinders. As the end burns oft it is pusfypd farther up until the whole is consumed and another required. In this easy fashion is the hearth replenished. If it were not easy the Jarocho would not do it.

How Indians Conduct Races in Colorado.

Correspondence of the Little Bock Gazette. Learning from Charlie and Ingler, Chiefs of the Menacbe and Capote bands of Ute Indians, that they were going to run their horses against the Weinmanuches of the same tribe, I accepted their invitation and rode out to their track one pleasant afternoon about three weeks ago, and became a spectator of some of the fairest and most quietly-conducted horse-racing I ever witnessed. The track is a straight stretch of perhaps a mile in length. On opposite sides of the outcome the head men of the opposing bands seat themselves upon the ground in a circle, pass from hand to hand the pipe, from which each in suooeeeion putts a blue wreath of smoke. And while this fa going on a horse fa ridden from one side by a nearly naked Indian boy and slowly guided down the track, and as he leaves the stand one of. his backers rises from the group in council, and brings forward close to the track such articles as he desires so wager on the horse—blankets, skins, furs, fancy clothing and ornaments, guns, saddles and silver dollars—throwing all together on the ground in plain view of of the other side who at once advance , a like number of articles in a pile on their side of the track. Another barelegged Indian boy fa mounted and started down the track. The two riders turn at a point designated by the owners at the head of the track, and without any one to give the word the start fa made, and if both are satisfied the race fa ran, otherwise both go back, and when both are satisfied the first out fa the winner. The man of the winning side walks across the track, gathers the stakes and returns unquestioned. Four times I saw the Weinmanuche man walk to the side of the Menaches and Capotes and bear off their most valuable prises, while no word of complaint arpse from the losers, and but few signs of exultation were exhibited by the winner*. These contests have been renewed every week since, until the Menaches and Capotes have lost nearly all their valuables, and they are now looking for a horse with which to win back their goods and chattels. If you would relish food, lab n r for it before you take It; If to eojo " clothing, pay for it before you w.f ar It; If you would sleep soundly, tak clear conscience to bed with you.

Hie Standard mwkzixs, m of Aovmunsi On*oolnmn,« mm Half oolnxrn, one Tmr ” J Quarter column, one year M gyith column, one year. *** M#o BDra » C**na —ttMaycar. HiAWTOwmoB. A cents a Una, JOB PRINTING orui

NO. 8.

ONE MORE MASTODON:

The Bones of a Giant Animal Discovered by a Mew Windsor Farmer’s Boy. ; ~ New York World. NkwbUbg. N. Y., /July 7.—Mr. Hugh fKelley is a farmer owning and working a form of 108 acres in the town of New Windsor, adjoining this city. Just east of the house, which is an oldfashioned two-story frame structure, is a marshy swale. Fifty years ago there was a pond here, which probably covered three acres of land. The swale runs north and south, and extends for several miles each way. The outlet is to the eastward, and empties into -the Otter kill, which flows into the Hudson River. The pond was drained, Mr. Kelley says, about fifty years ago, and since then the black muck ground has been used for raising garden truck. It is now planted with potatoes, and in order to help the crop along Mr. Kelley ou Saturday set his sons Willie and* James, youngmen of about sixteen aud eighteen years of age,, digging a drain on the western edge of the patch. Several bones were observed lying around loose upon the surface of the bog meadow, but nothing was thought of their appearance. But when Willie discovered on digging down about two feet beneath the surface the second join* of a fore leg which measures a foot and 10 inches in length he was amazed. Mr. Kelley concluded to stop digging and inform some of the neighbors. This was done, and on Bunday the excavating was continued and their labor was rewarded by finding nearly all the bones of a giant, mastodon. A trench about 30 feet long, 10 feet wide and 4 j feet deep has been dug so far and the men are yet at work endeavoring to recover what is needed to make up the whole frame or skeleton. Operations were resumed early this morning on a larger scale and several sections of the spine, two more ribs and other pieces nave been recovered to day. A spring of cool water has been struck and the diggers are troubled bailing it out. The black vein of muck is .said to be about twenty feet deep and rests on a bed of blue clay. As stated it at one time' formed the bed of a good sized pond, and it is conjectured, as in the cases of other mastodons found, that the animal waded in beyond his depth, got fast and perished. When the upper jaw of the skull was found there was great difficulty in getting it to the surface whole. It took five men to lift it out of the trench. It was found four feet sixinches below the surface. The lower jaw was four and a half feet below the surface, and some three feet distance from the upper jaw. It required two men to lift ic out. The backbone and spine were not over two feet under ground. Other pieces have been found in various portions of the trench.

The measurement of the principal bones already found are as follows: The skull, 2 feet 5} inches high; length of the upper jaw, 2 feet four inches; between tne eyes, 2 feet; depth of forehead, 18 inches; eye sockets, 7 inches in diameter: par holes, 18 inches in diameter. - The nostrils measure 6$ inches ib diameter and are two feet deep. There are eight teeth in the skull—two on each side of the upper and lower jaws—and all in the finest condition. The back teeth of the lower jaw measure 7 inches long on the surface and are 4 inches in width. The Kr and lower front teeth are 4| es long on the surface and 8£ inches wide. All the teeth protrude from the jawbone 1 £ inches. There are 8 points on each of the front teeth. The space between the rows of teeth on the roof of the upper jaw is 7£ inches, and at the lower jaw 6£ inches, In the center of the forehead fa a cavity measuring 11 inches long and 4 inches wide. The lower jaw was placed in position to-day and found to measure correspondingly large with the upper jaw, and completes the skull. Although not yet weighed, it fa estimated that the skull complete will tip the beam at no less than 600 pounds. One of the fore legs, including the shoulder-blade, is seven feet in length, and weighs, it is thought, 150 pounds. 'JThe first point of the hind leg measures 2 feet 5 inches and the second joint of the same leg 3 feet 4 inches. The only part of the other fore-leg yet found, ana which was the first piece discovered underground by Willie Kel • ley, measures 2 feet 10 inches and weighs about fifty pounds. At this hour twenty-six ribs nave been found, the longest measuring 3 feet 10 inches, with a width of 2 inches la the center. A dozen or more sections of the spihe have been unearthed, the largest being 10 inches wide and 16 inches long. A score or two other bones are among the lot, 6£ by 4£ inches. The marshy land or swale in which the mastodon was found fa of the same line or stretch of similar ground in which the mastodon or 1845, so thoroughly described by Dr. Warren, was discovered. This is the third unearthed since that year. The mastodon of 1845 was dug up three miles due north of Mr. Kelly’s farm, and on the farm of Mr. Brewster. Tne Brewster mastodon was sold for SIO,OOO, and fa now in Boston. The second one was discovered at Otteville, in this county, a few years ago.

We often hear little boys telling of the wondere they will do when they grow to be men. They arejookingand longing for the time when they will be large enough to carry a cane and wear a tall hat; and not one of them will say he expects to be a poor man; but every one expects to be rich. Now, money is very good in its place, bat let me tell you, little boys, what is a great deal better than money, and what you may be earning ail the time you are waiting to grow large enough to earn a fortune. The Bible says “a good name Is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver or gold. A good name does not mean a name for being the richest man in town, or for owning the hugest house. A good name for doing good deeds: a name for wearing a pleasant face and carrying a cheerful heart; and for always doing right, no matter where we may be. When a caterpiller first goes into business, he is called a caterpiller, Just a plain, unvarnished caterpillar; then he turns into a larva, then be is called a pupa and sometimes a chiysalis, and by the time he Is a butterfly he feels like a runaway bank president, he has toted around such a cart-load of names

To Little Boys.