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About The Red Cloud chief. (Red Cloud, Webster Co., Neb.) 1873-1923 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 8, 1884)
Mli;i ?, l. J IB-'i, L." acaSitaw.'iai.X.mrTr-r . y.y -T7CT .r v r - iiaets- - - I r 's ' 15 v t A Jf 4 & t it- ?':. ;- ?t $' XiA n ti 1 ! THE BED CLOUD CHIEF. .. C. HOSMER, Poblister. RED CLOUD, NEBRASKA. ANTIPODES. "There is a darkness in our hemisphere: Revolving planets hung on high Amid an opalescent sky. Upon tlie quiet earth I see Moonlights that quiver spectrally, And black wood solitudes that loom Like monster shadows in the gloom. Ah! this is night for us who stand Within n sun-forsaken land, When sleep, the balm of living, dowers Hearts that have waked through long day hours. Yet while I muse my thoughts are borne Down golden pathways of the morn To ancient continents over-seas Peopled with our antipodes; ' And in my fancy I behold Bright shores of empires centuries old. And heights which lift their coronal snow Above green meadow-fields below. J I see majestic cities, whero Summer and sunlight fill the air; I guze on antique domes and spires That sparkle with prismatic fires; I watch the stir of human feet In open country-way and street: I feci the throb of soul and mind In Orient races of mankind. There lire is living; here it sleeps Like duk upon our ocean deeps: There life is burning at its noon. And here it dreams beneath the moon. George Edgar Montgomery. MADE OE MAEEED. 1IT JESSIE FOTIIKttniljL, Author of "One of "Ihree." "Probation" XVcMe'dt." Etc. 'The CITAPTEIt X. Continued. It was still day, still broad, hot sun light. It seemed to him as if ages had passed since Mr. Starkie had sum moned him to his room. On arriving at his house he went into the parlor, and found Grace in a state of extreme deshabille, seated on a sofa in a red, Watteau dressing-gown, while finery was trewed in all directions around her, and a very large work-basket stood before her on the table. lards and yards of amber ribbon and knots of black velvet were spread around in a bewildering confusion, and Miss Massey was absorbed in preparations for the evening. "Philip!" she ejaculated, as he came in, "ou here at this hour! What has happened? Is the ball given up?" She dung her work down and stood up. "Something has happened, I sup pose," he said, gravely, " and the ball is certainly given up at least for me. They are sending me out to China, to look after some business tticre." 4To China to-night!" echoed Grace, and stood silent for a moment looking at him. Her first impulse, why, she knew not, was to burst into tears; but that she felt would be folly. In Philip's face, despite its gravity, she thought she read elation. Like a good sister, putting all private feelings and sensations aside, she said: "If it is good for you, dear Philip. I congratulate you. But are you off this minute? You will have a meal, ami let me pack up your tilings for you. At what time do you go?" "To London, by the eight o'clock ex press." " Oh, there's an hour or two yet. I will look aftT your things. 111 clear all this rubbish away and put on my dress, because of course there will be no ball for us to-night, now.' "lam v.-ry sorry to deprive you of your pleasure," he began. "Nonsense! As if "it would be any pleasure to me with you just starting on such :ui expedition." " 1 must, go and see Angela," said Philip absently. "I shall not belong, Grace." "Angela! Oh, yes, I suppose you must,' she replied, a cold look coming across her face, a spasm across her heart, as she realized how much he was thinking ot Angela. How small his sister's place had become in his heart! Philip, without another word, went awav, and rang the bell of the next houe. Miss Fa'rfax was reading. Mabelle was sewing. "My dear little milliner," as her sifter called her with atlectionatc fastidiousness. The3. too, both started, and exclaimed as Philip came in. "What is happening?" burst from Angela's litis in a tone of unusual animation. "May 1 speak with you alone a few minutes?" he asked, gently and gravely. "I have something important to tell you." Mabelle gathered up her work and went up-stairs. Philip and Angela were left alone. "Don't keep me in suspense," she said, with a melancholy smile. "Have you made a fortune, Philip, or lost all that you have, that you look so dread fully solemn9" "Neither one nor the other, dear," he said, seating himself on the couch beside her and taking her hand; "but it has been put within iuy power greatly to improve my fortune." "Has it? How?" exclaimed Angela, with genuine interest. He told her briefly what had hap pened. "I said, to improve my fortune." he added; "but, Angela, if 3ou elect to re main true to me, and will wait, and will let me say our fortunes, why, when I come home again and what could hinder me. if I knew you were waiting for me? I should be able to say to you: 'Will 3011 be my wife, at once anv time and ' " "Dear Philip, to hesitate at such a moment would not be womanly, but prudish and unkind. I say yes, J. will wait for you." "Oh! God bless you!" cried he, with almost a tob, as he caught her in his arms for the lirst time, and could onty hold her to his heart and remain silent. Angela behaved very properly and verv prettily: nothing could have sur passed the sweetness of her demeanor. She rested her head on his shoulder, and she. too, said nothing, no doubt feelin"- it unnecessary to add to her lover's excitement by any high-ilown anuac or passionate assurances. She was thinking who shall say what she was thinking? One thing only is cer tain that she rejoiced uafeignedly ia Phi ip'- improved prospects, .and won dered very much by how much thej were improved. Yet, when Philip moved, and she felt , that the -time was come to look af fectionately at him, there was that in me eyes wnicn met, ners mat. sent a strange little thrill through even her veins a passion, a depth, looking from their daikness a "for life or death, for weal or woe" expression which even she could not see quite unmoved. "And you will write, and let me write to you, dearest?" he said, at last. "Yes, Philip; how often can one write?" " As often as one will; the oftener thcTjetter. If you know how happy even one of your letters will make me!'' She smiled, and there was another pause, till Philip said: "Ah, by the bye, 1 am very sorry about the ball to night that you should miss it; but " "Miss it!" said she, looking up. "Why? No one knows of our engage ment, and Philip no one must know, except those who know already." " What!" he faltered. " The anxiety of a public engage ment with you away, in this barbarous place, would wear me out, would al most kill me! Indeed, Philip, it must not be made known." " As you will, mv darling. I would not cause you a moment's anxiety for the world." " You will cause me plenty while you are out in China awful place! But don't you see that if I don't go to the ball just because you have" left what will people think? I shall go with a very heavy heart. I shall be think ing of you,'"and ready to cry all the time; but, Philip, I must go, that is certain." " But Grace is not going. Who are you going with?" " Grace will go if you choose to make her do so," said his lady-love, looking at him with something like a Hash in her languorous eyes. "And as for a chaperon, I will see to thr.L Mrs. Berg haus will chaperon us." The saying is, indeed, a true one which asserts that the strength of some characters only displays itself in great eniererenc'es. Notbinjr short of an im mense occasion like this could thus have called forth the strength of Angela Fair fax's character. Philip hardly knew what he felt as he heard her thus rapidly disposing of all his objections, and making apparent the absolute necessity of attending the ball. A few more sentences passed, and then he agreed to use his influence with Grace. " But my time is short," he said at last "1 must leave you. Where is Mabelle? I must say good-bye to her." Angela called her, and "she came down. " Mabelle, Philip is going to China, and he wants to say good-bye to you." "To China!" echoed Mabelle, intel ligently. " Yes. He is coming back quite rich, and then " She snii'cd with expres sive sweetness. " "And then, Mabelle, I hope we shall be brother and sister. We have always been good friends, have we not?" "Always," said Mabelle, with a wintry little smile, as she placed her hand in his. " Then good-bye, dear. I know that when I leave you with one another I leave both in good hands. I may take a kiss, Mabelle. for who knows when or how we shall meet again?" With a smile he stooped and touched her cheek half amused to see the frightened eyes that met his with his lips, and Mabelle said "Good-bve, Philip," but seemed to have no voice wherewith to wish him a prosperous voyage, and then somehow he found himself outside the house. "Go to the ball! Acpcr' cried Grace, indignantly, when he represent ed the case to her. "1 should die of blushes if I got there. The hoartless ness of it! Oh, shanitful"" "But if I ask you, as a iat favor before I go. Graccy as a last, and the greatest lavor I ever did ask?" " Philip, 3011 are a tyrant, and 3ou never used to be one!" she said, pas sionatety. "I can not go; yoif must not ask it. But he did ask it, and she, in the end, granted it, as he knew she would. With a face of gloom and a heart like lead, she went to get dressed. At half past seven Philip drove away, and on his way to London, while the August sun set was flooding all the ripening fields with golden light, his thoughts were all at Mr. Starkie's house, and the ball room there, and how Angela's heart was heavy, and how Grace was think ing of him. Surely, since live o'clock, lie must have lived a hundred years at, least CHAPTEK XL GOING AND HETCHNING. Angela had said, in reference to the ball: "I will find a chaperon;" and she had easily succeeded in doing so. A note, written in haste, to Mrs. Bcrg haus, and sent by the servant of the lodging-house, despite much grum bling on the part of both her mistress and of the girl herself, produced, a good-natured reply from the lady toithe effect that she and her party -intended to be at Mr. Starkie's house at such and such an hour, and if Miss Massey and Miss Fairfax ivould be there about the same time, and would wait in the dressing-room, she would chaperon them with pleasure. Angela was a Fairfax, nd descended on her mother's side from an aristo cratic house, which had never paid the least attention to the renegade daugh ter who had married a country rector; still. Angela had their blood in her vein?, and derived from them a spirit which, she was wont to say, was all tot) fiery and impetuous. Yet all the spirit of the Fairfaxes and of that other noble house combined could not give her any pleasure in th contemplation of that drive of an hour and a half with Grace Massey, angry, injured and unwilling, to the scene of the festivities, ('race was ready at the appointed hour, look ing very handsome, despite her dis tress, in her amber silk and gauze, with the black velvet knots; but her ees were red with weeping, and swollen with the tears which had not fallen, and her manner was dull and cold in the extreme. Angela was so closely -shrouded in a long white cloak that it was impossible to guess at the appearance likely to be made by herself or her dress; all that Grace could see was a large, star-like white flower, reposing somewhere in the mazes of wavy "black hair which covered her head, which made her look likf some naiad or nymph, realized in ilesh and blood and" artificial llowcrs. "What a trial this is, dear!" sighed Angela. '-What?" inquired Grace." "Philip's going iway. It is mosf dis tressing. Noihiug but a sense of duty the very strongest sense of duty would have induced me to go to this miserable ball. I am sure 1 shall not dance a bit," and she sighed heavity. Grace struggled hard not to saj some sharp bitter things, as she was con stantly tempted to do when with Angela. The remembrance of that dear face which she had kissed in farewell not an hour ago, and that alone, held in her desire to be sarcastic, even sardonic, in her replies, and she said: "Yes; I don't expect any pleasure from it, I must sa', and in my judg ment it would have been better not to S;o. But I could not refuse Philip's ast request." "1 wish it had been in m power to stay away!" sighed Angela; "but it would have looked so very marked, 3'ou know." "I thought ou and my brother were now definite' engaged. He told me so," said Grace. " We are, but not publicly. It would have been more than I could boar, to be openly engaged to him, and he gone awav; for no one knows how long!" Grace's rage could no longer be en tirety repressed. "You must have a very sensitive nature," said she, in honeyed accents. J4 Oh, very!" assented Angela. "But to my mind," went on the downright Grace, "if I loved a man enough to marry him, there is nothing that i should like better than to have it known that I was engaged to him. I should be proud of it, and I should gloiy in it" "Oil, my dear Grace, how shocking! You are so 3-oung, dear, ou realty doir t know what "you are saying." Grace laughed shortly and bitterly, and remarkeJ: " Do you mean that I hav not iad as much experience as you on th subject? I have never had any, allow me to tell you, except that 1 agreed to'marry one of Philip's school-fellows when he was ten and I was nine. But I see we shall never agree upon the subject, so we had better let if drop." Nothing loth. Angela complied with the suggestion, and the rest ot the jour ney was pursued in unbroken silence. They had scarcely entered the. dressing-room at Mr. Starkie's before the Berghauses also arrived; Thekla and her mother, the former looking rather pale, but with a certain deeper light than usual in her blue eyes. Grace new to her, and began to explain the case, in a series of low, but energetic whis- Eers; while Aivgela. daintily arranging er very elegant and very artistic dress, discoursed aside io Mrs. Berghaus in a discreet undertone. "Mr. Philip Masse has been sudden ty called away; he has gone to China, I believe; so he could not bring us, and of course Grace was so busy seeing him off and talking to him that I offered to write to j-ou in her place." "Ah, "yes!" said the unsuspecting Mrs. Berghaus, arranging her cap be fore the glass. " J only wonder that Grace would come without him: she is so very devoted to him." " He made a point of her doing so, and she did not like to refuse him. It is veiy good of you to chaperon so many girls. Four ladies, and only Mr. Herr mann Berghaus to escort us." " And Mr. Fordyce; he came with us,1 ' said Mrs. Berghaus, sticking a pin into her cap, and contentedly surveying the effect. "So we have two gentlemen." "Mr. Fordyce! Indeed!" said Angela, in some surprise, as she and the others followed Mrs. Berghaus' down stairs. In the hall they found Hermann and Mr. Fordyce, the latter looking still', arid with a heightened color m his cheeks. "What a funny little man he is!" murmured Grace to Thekla. "Isn't he? I think he is .-111 ttrn w t'a vou, Grace. He had not intended com ing, but when mamma casu-ill, men tioned that 301 .1 :d Philip and Angela Fair ax were t-omiu r. Irs iinineiiiafty testified the greatest d-.-a.r- to join us. We had a good laugh about it" In the meantime Mr. Fordce, look ing exceedingly pink, had offered his arm to Miss, Fairfax, and she, with her sweetest smile, had accepted it, leaving Hermann to escort his mother, and Grace and Thekla to come after them IllOD.6 "Smitten with me, Thekla!" whis pered Grace, with a short laugh, as they entered the baU-room. Grace did not have a pleasant even ing. She was angry, vexed and jealoys for her brother, and, refusing almost every dance except one or two with Hermann Berghaus. remained a volun tary wall-l!ower, and looked with jaun diced eyes on the proceedings of Philip's fiancee. Whatever the effort might cost the bleeding heart of Miss Fairfax, it is very certain that she made a gallant at tempt to appear to eujo3 the ball, and it was. like most praiseworthy attempts, rewarded with a fair modicum of suc cess. While Grace sat glooming at one side, while Thekla Berghaus danced for what could Philip Masse3''s depart ure to China, or anywhere else, be to her? but danced mechanically, and had nothing but sham things to say to her partners! Angela also danced every dasce, and fascinated all who spoke to her b3' her pensive smile and engaging manners and beaux yatx. Mr? Fordyce, in partictular, devoted himself to her, and Angela was very kind to him, and helped out his awk ward attempts at gallantry and compli ments with the tact and delicacy with which only women ever fulty acquire. What she thought, felt or hoped on this occasion it is beyond the power of her biographer to sa3. All the latter can do is to report what the young lady did, said and looked like. Durinj.the ball she danced much, said veiy little, and looked very biutifuL When the ball was over it was on the arm of Mr. Fontyce that she supported herself as she and Grace went to their carriage, Grace going before with Hermann Ber ghaus; and as the young ladies drove home not a S3ilable was exchanged be tween them. It appeared that some understanding had been arrived . at by .Grace and Thekla; for, despite fatigue and late hours, they met the following morning, and journej-ed together to Foulhaven, the seaside town in Yorkshire in the neighborhood of which was Grace's house, there to stay for the remaindei of the college vacation. CHAPTER "JOL ilABELLE'S TIMKSLATION". The heat of August faded into the milder warmth of September, and the vacations were over; work and the autumn sessions at school and college began again. Grace Massey and Thekla Berghaus returned from Foul haven, the one to her home, the other to her lodgings and her studies, faster friends than ever; while Mabelle and her sister had to begin their work again, the one her lessons, the other her teaching. The onty difference seemed to be that Philip was away, and that his letters came like angels' visits, fw and far between; often delaj'ed, very irregular, owing to the outland ishness of the place to which he had gone, and the precariousness of his means of communication with the out side world. It was naturally to An gela that he wrote most often and most ireele3r, and Angela had a wa3' of re ceiving these epistles with a calm pen sive indifference, and of smiling gently at their glowing language, and, per haps, not mentioning that she had heard, from him, but letting the fact come out casually in the course of con versation, which habit drove Grace Masse3, to uso her own expression, " nearty wild." In vain Thekla tried to pour b'alm on the wounded spirit, b- suggesting that Angela could not know bj" instinct how intensely dear Philip was to his sister, nor how the latter felt the separation, and longed for news of him that such knowledge must come with time, and no doubt would so come. "Never, I tell you!" was the uncom promising reply. "She does not know how I love him; and she knows how she hates me, and I feel that every time she torments me by withholding J news of Plrlip, or doling it out as if she grudged it, or cared noihing about it. she knows she is tormenting me and de ' i:i,t.. ; :t" "o""3 "' " "1 don't think you have an right to i sa3- such things," replied Thekla, "ami at least it is quite evident that she considers herself engaged to 3'our brother, for she answers his letters un failingty; it must Le so, or 3-ou would hear of it from him." "Do j-ou suppose she would ever let him go" iinless a richer man came for ward? Let that happen, and we shall see!" said Grace, bitterly. "Fie, Grace! I did not think you had , it in you to imagine such wickedness, much less openty to speak it." " Evil communications corrupt good manners.' I tell you I am right," said Grace, doggedty. "All I can saj- is, I wish it were over, in one way or an- other, and that Philip belonged to me once again, or to some woman worth v of him." Thekla made no answer to this, but tranquilly pursued her work, and Grace's heart sank, for she had latety begun to notice certain signs and tokens about Thekla, and to sa3 to herself: "Of course -she can not wa't forever, arid if but nothing shall ever makp me quarrel with her, and it is that woman's fault, not hers." fro BE CONTINUED. J Beauty and Talent. All women, even the ugliest, feel that beaut3' is a weapon on their side in the battle of life: like to see it exeit a force, and when it is great, and. so to speak, beyond criticism, admire it with genuine he'ut'ness heartiness as real :ls that w ich men show in their admirations for strength manifested in an3 conspicu ous wa3. Let an3T one of the thousand C3nics nowlbuugingin London ask him self whether an English Prince who made a mesilliance lor monc3- or for beauty would be sooner forgiven, or who: her the love-match of Na- ; poleon II. was not one main caue of 1 that popnlarty with English women ' whi'h outlasted evnn'thing but his sur j render. They thought he should have performed the impossibility of "cutting his way through." To this very hour the deep feeling of huglish women lortlierrenchLmpress, though founded, of course, on pit, is greatly assisted by the recollection among the middle-aged of a triumph so j conspicuous and so visible owing to per sonal charm, lhis kind of female in terest is universal, and extends in a more languid degree to the meg, who find in anv national appreciation of beauty not onty the charms which spring from any kinship in taste, but an excuse for a secret imbecil ity, a powerlessness in presence of the attraction, which they all resent and feel. We wonder if, "besides all this, there is an residuum ' of the old Greek feeling that beauty was a clear good in itself, a harmonious something which indicated that the gods of Nature were essential! and at heart hostile to man. The next Prince who ascends a throne anj-where will have his praise and qualities hmnr;d on the European wires, but if he were an Apollo or a Jove the bulletin-makers would feel in stinctively that to saj so would bo re garded not as adulation, but as ridicule. It is for women to be beauUful, for men to be dignified the latter a credit arising from a different order of ideas, the idea of harmony between place and appearance in the world. We should doubt if beauty were admired in the abstract very conseiousty, but that the interest excited by beautiful women rivals the interest excited by beautiful scenery, and this among those who never see either, except in pictures, we have no doubt whatever. London Letter. Hardly a greater evil can befall a member of the human family than that which is named: "Having more mone than he knows what to do with." Too much income breeds luxury, extrava gance, oppression, pride, vain-glorious-ness, all the manifold forms of vice and depravit'. Chicago Times. A "victim" declares that when a man is sitting still, steadfastty gazing Ht notlrng, his wife has not a word to say to him; but as soon as he picks up a newspaper or a book to read she takes a long breath and almost drowns him with an avalanche of questions. N. T. Graphic Temperance Beading. LIGHTING THE HILLS. When lonjr afro in warlike days the foes came lurking near. ' And threatened to destroy the homes to man hood ever dear. Before electric wires had bound each shore to ocean side. And voiced with cabled breath the depths of grand Atlantic's tide, Twa human bands that bore tho news from valley to the hill. And in a blazing: bonfire sent the message with a thrill O'er leazues of miles, 'till all the land was ruddy in the plow Of answering- torches telling of the coming of tho foo. So every hill-top seems to me an altar, where The cry of freedom, rising high upon tho slumb'rinsr air. Still lives In bough of pine, still clings to rock and tree. Still chants in every breeze tho anthem of the free. There's a murmur in the valleys, and a step alonr the plain. Of a roiirhty host a-coming to light the hills again: Did you hear the summons? Did you know.a foe was near.' That threatens to destroy our homes, our homes so deart Tis not the foe that comes in martial pomp and tread. And furls tho banners o'er, or wreathes with flowers, tho dead: But in tho grave of hope, of joy, of love, of household pride. He hoaps the slain, and writes on leaden slab: "Of rum they died 1" Could wo hut look within one grave, what is it that wo see? The snul that, bound with iron bands, fought hard for victory: The manhood lot: tho good undone; the wrongs to human kind; The broken vows: the blasted life; tho blind that led the blind. Three thousand glowing watch-flres girt the valleys of our land: The fires of love, and faith, and prayer, lit bj woman's heart and hand: And they're comiiur ut the bill-sides, these daughters of tho Kimr. For "God. and Home and Native Land," List! list tho welkin ring! There is music in their coming, and the sound of childhood's mirth: And their chorus is tho grandest ever heard in all the earth; The light shall never fail, nor the prayer shall cease, until Sa'oons arc banished from the land, by schools on cceru hOl! Iowa ratifies the spirit of the amendment election that "proposes to have a xchoo!-lwme on even hilt awl no .-'t"oo;n m the raJlm," thus crystalizing into deed tho pmvers and labors of the . C. T. U. and kindred Temperance organization1. Jh. E. T. Hniuli, in ITomim at Work. THE SUPPOSED UTILITY OF ALCO HOL. There ha been a great advance in public sentiment in regard to the sup posed utility of alcohol. Sixt 3earfago tho use of alcoholic liquors was supposed to be a necessit3. in order to health. One of the first questions raised, when the reform be gan, was whether it would be possible lor men to ma'ntain good health if the desisted from their use entirety. It was supposed to be necessary often to re sort to them. They held complete swa in all fields of labor, and no man was supposed to be of much value in the field or shop, as a laborer, without them; and it was held to be impossible to withstand severe heat or cold with out their aid. They filled a large place in materia meiliai, and were freely re sorted to for evcr kind of illness, as a sovereign remed3. Sixt3 to eight years ago public senti ment had advanced a little, and but little, beyond these superstitions of the olden times, in regard to the virtues of alcohol. Thirty years ago an old man approaching his ninetieth birthday said: "A kinil Providence and good New England rum have spared mj life so long." "Black strap," made of rum and molasses, or a rum sweat were in dispensable remedies for acold. "Rum, seasoned with cherries, protected against cold." "Hum, made nutritious with milk, prepared for the maternal office; and under the Greok name of Paregoric rum, doubly poisoned with opium, quieted the infant's cries." "Females, or valetudinarians, courted nn appetite with medicated rum, dis-E-ui?ed under the chaste name of -Hexham's Tincture' or 'Stoughton's Elixir. ' In some sections of the coun try it was customary to take whisky llavored with mint soon after waking in the morning: and so essential was it re garded to health that scarcety an person of any age or sex was exempt from it. Can alcoholic drinks be safely dis pensed with was a question seriously and conscientiously pondered when this reform was in its incipient stages. Even Dr. Benjamin Rush was some time in settling this point; others were longer still in reaching a conclusion. To dispense with them altogether, it was felt, would make men-wcak and puny, the sure victims of exhaustion and disease. These ideas were current. These mischievous delusions, relics of darker ages, have now been dispelled from multitudes of intelligent minds. How great the change! How seldom we meet such notions now, only among backward-look'ug people, who are un pardonably loitering behind the march of mind, held back by the subtle delu sion of appetite. As early as 1850 the use of alcoholic beverages bad been condemned by the best medical authorities in Great 'Brit ain and the United States, as not only needless, but positively injurious. Pri or to that time alcohol had been dem onstrated to be a poison in a healthy body. Two thousand of the best med ical and surgical gentlemen in Great Britain declared, over their signatures, that "the most perfect health is com patible with total abstinence from all intoxicating beverages," and that "to tal and universal abstinence from such beverages would sreatty contribute to the health, prosperity and happiness of the human race.-" One hundred and twenty-five of the first physi cians in New York City united in 'de claring that "alcohol should be classed with other powerful drugs, and when prescribed medicinally, it should be with conscientious caution and a grave sense of responsibility." Soon after the publication of these views an article appeared in the Westminster Review ad vocating alcohol as food. Some French investigators, however, of a high rank, quickly exploded this pernicious theory, and the. Wcsttninster Review magnani mously retracted it. Ex-Goxernor An drew, before a Legislative Committee of Massachusetts, with a j-rcat array of learning, reasserted the theory that alcohof is food, or leasatt an assimilate of food, and the effect of it has bee reaction of sentiment in some circles ef society. But the battle has been fought over again, and the demonstrations oi the ripest science are against alcohol at all as a beverage, and also as a medicine, except in exceedingly rare cases. In the language of the " Sanitary" editor of the Imlepemlcnt: "Every gain in sanitary knowledge and in the study oi the conditions of perfect health tends to drive alcohol from use." The employment of alcohol in medi cine is immeasurably reduced, in the practice of the most scientific physicians; and, in the London Temperance Hospi tal, after eight years of thorough trial, it has been fully .demonstrated: that it can be dispensed with altogether in the treatment of all diseases. D. Dorchester, D.D.tinN. Y. Independent. Beer. We devote much space in this issue ts the statement of the best physicians and surgeons of Toledo1, as to the effect ot beer upon the human system. Tin statements are of all classes of phy sicians. We have not selected those ol known Temperance principles, tint have taken all. What they say of beer is not colored b any feeling for or against Temperance. Their statements are thi cold, bare experiences of men of science who know whereof they speak. It should be borne in mind that To ledo is essentially a beer-drinking city. The German population is very large, there are live of the largest and most extensive breweries in the country here, and there is Drobably more beer drank in proportion to the population than in an city in the United States. The practice of these physicians is therefore largely among the beer-drinkers, and they have had abundant opportunities to know exactly its bearing upon health and disease. Every one of them bears testimony to the fact that no man can drink beer safely, that it is an injury tc any one who uses it, in any quantity, and that its efl'ect upon the general "health of the country has been even worse than that of whisk. We know that it ha3 been, for one reason if fornc other. It has entered the field of drunkard-making under false pretenses. It was accepted by many men as a safe substitute for whisky, and thousands favored its use on that ground, forget ting that it is an alcoholic beverage the same as whisky, and that whoever uses alcohol as a stimulant must have the amount of alcohol that is necessary to produce the efl'ect desired, and, so far as effect is concerned, it does not make a particle of difference whether that alcohol is in the form of beer, wine 01 whisky, because every drinking man will take what alcohol he wants into his sstem to produce the desired effect. To reduce it to plain English, men drink to get whatever degree ot drunken ness they desire. There is dmnk in beer the same as in any other liquor. Beer is from eigljt to twelve per cent, alcohol. If an orhc9 of alcohol is what is required to produce the desired effect upon a man, he may get it in four drinks of whisky, while it would require a gal lon of beer to produce the same effect. If he craves the ounce of alcohol and seeks for it in beer he is going to drink the gallon, thus not only getting the same amount of alcohol, but loading his stomach with a gallon of fluid charged with all sorts of unhealthy principles. Thousands upon thousands of confirmed drunkards have been made by beer, be cause it has been held that it could be indulged in safely. There is no safety in alcohol. Wnen a man says: " Oh I drink nothing I take a glass of beer now and then," that man is fairly on the road. - Better for him tho nakedfact of the undisguised yhisky. We specially call attention to another fact. Life-insurance companies have no sentiment They are as cold-blooded as banks. They do business upon strict ly business principles. Their business is one based purely upon experience from which certain inexorable rules have been established. A life-insurance com pany will not insure the life of a con firmed beer-drinker. Why? Because it is a certain fact, as certain as anything can be, that tho beer-drinker can not live long enough to make insurance prof itable totliem. The "expectation" of life in a beer-drinker is cut short by his appetite. No life-insurance company is going to take a risk upon a body into which is being poured every day the seeds of disease, any more than a marine-insurance company is going to take a risk upon a rotten hulk. No life-insurance company is going to take a risk upon a manwhoisjnvitingBright's disease of the kidneys, inflammatory rheumatism, congestion of the liver and enlargement of the kidneys, all of which are as certain to come to him as he is to persevere in beer. And tho beer-drinker as a rule does persevere till death stops his contributions to brewers. These institutions dread beer more than they do whisky, for its effect upon the system is even worse. A non-beer-drinker at forty is considered a good risk a beer-drinker at that age can get no insurance at all. As we said there is no sentiment in life-insurance' companies. They act entirety upon facts which are the result of experience. Their figures never lie. One other fact we desire to call at tention to, while we are about it. There are degrees in beer. Much more beer may be drank without death in Germa ny than in America, for one reason: In Germany the brewers are under Gov ernment control and here they are not. Beer in Germany has to be made of malt and hops only here it may be made of anything that the brewer chooses. He may use any poison in it that his cupidity suggests. There is a very great percentage of them who would use strychnine if it would lessen the cost of beer. Then, again, in Germany beer is kept till it is sound. It is not exposed for sale till it -has undergone all its fer mentations and is as harmless as any alcoholic liquor can be. It is not so in this country. The rate of interest makes it an object to tnrn beer into money as soon as possible, and there fore beer made Monday is sold Satur day, with the yeast not yet half worked off, and in a condition to undergo fer mentation in the stomach of the drink er. The beer made and sold in this country, wero it pure, 10 altogether too new for even the confirmed beer- ( drinker. It is bad enough at best as we get it, it is worse than vile. Toledo Blade. '1 a i J v- & J I 3T 1 f - L 1 Jfel - "5 -,. rf ' - - 4 a. 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