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About The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 17, 1894)
PREPARING FOR THE FUTUIfc’S. “When I'm a man ” said little Tom, “And bU and tall and strong, I’m iroin* to keop a dra< store, and Drink soda all day Ion ’’ “And I," said little Polly Ann, “I’ll tell you what X II do: I’ll come and make you awful rich J3y buyin i things of you “I’ll buy tcethbrusho* and quinine, And squill* and things like that: And posta.e stamps, and catnip tea. For my old pussy cat. “And maybe I will buy so much You’ll fcet so rich, you see, That you will have enough some day To come and marry me.” —Harper’s. THE MERCHflNT’S~CRIME. BY HORATIO AI.GER, JR. CHAPTER X—Continued. “Well, your wish is likely to bo gratified,” said his guardian. “Do you mean to let me- visit it, then?” asked the boy, looking up with eager and animated inquiry. “Yes; I havo observed that your father’s death has naturally weighed upon your mind, and depressed your spirits. If you should go back to school now, you would not be in a fitting frame of mind to resume your studies. I think a little change and variation will do you good. For this reason I intend to let you go on a journey, not only to Niagara, but still farther west.” “You are very kind, Mr. Morton.” said Robert; “but,” ho added with momentary hesitation, “would it bo quite right for me to go on a pleas ure excursion so soon after the death of my poor father?” “Your fathor would, I am sure, ap prove it,” said his guardian. “Be cause your mind is diverted by pleas ant scenery, it will not follow that you have forgotten your father.” “No, I shaft never forget him as long as 1 live.” “So you see there is no objection on that score.” “Are you going with mo, Mr. Mor ton?” asked Robert, suddenly. “No, lam unable to leave my bus iness for so long.” “Am I going alone?” “No; you are too young for that. 1 have a friend,” Mr. Morton was about to say; but after a pause he said, “acquaintance, who is to start at once on a trip to the West, and I shali place you under his charge.” “Who is it, sir?” “A young man named Cromwell.” “How soon are we to start?” “Probably in a day or two. You can look over your wardrobe and see if you need any new clothes, and can get them before you leave New York.” “Yes, sir.” Piobert left his guardian’s presence in better spirits than he had entered. The prospect of a journey was very agreeable, for he had all a boy’s love of new scenes, and it added to his pleasure, though he hardly admitted it to himself, that his guardian was not about to accompany him. Ho hardly knew why it was, bat, al though he had been told that Mr. Morton was his father’s intimate friend, and had no reason to doubt the truth of this statement, lie found it impossible to like him. Shortly after Robert left the presence of his guardian. James Cromwell was once more ushered into it. He was no longer the thread-bare clork, but had provided himself with a new suit of clothes, which looked, indeed, bet ter than his former array; but no clothing. however costly, could change the appearance of his mean and insignificant features, and give him the air of a gentleman. ••I have waited upon you early, Mr. Morton,” he said. “.Not too early, answered the merchant. “Indeed, I may say that I am anxious to complete our ar rangements and put the boy under your care as soon as possible. The lact is, that with my business cares the additional burden of a ward is not welcome. If it had not been the son of my intimate friend, I might have declined the trust; but under the circumstances I did not think I .ought to do so.” “Does ho know that he is going with me?” inquired Cromwell. “I have just had an interview with him. Ho has been at a board ing school on the Hudson river, and he supposed he was going back. When I told him I had another plan for him he was at first disappointed. ” “Did you tell him what that plan was?” “Not precisely. I showed him some views of Niagara falls, and asked him if he would like to visit the cataract. He said that he would. I then said that previous to his going back to school I intended to let him have a little journey—visiting the falls and going as far as Indiana. He was pleased with this prospect.” “Does he know he is going with me?” *•1 mentioned that I had asked an acquaintance of mine to take charge of him. 1 shall introduce you as that acquaintance.” ‘•You intend, then. Mr. Morton* that we shall take Niagara falls on the way?” said James Cromwell. “Yes; I think it will be a pleasant arrangement for you, no doubt, if you have never seen the falls.” “No, 1 have never seen them.” “And besides, it will make the journey seem more plausible to Robert. He need not know until you get to your journey’s end that he is .not coming back.” “How shall it be communicated to him?” •■I think 1 will give you a letter to Rim which you can let him read when the proper time comes. ’ “When do you wish me to start?” ••As soon as possible—day after to-morrow. You can be ready, can you not?” “I can be ready at any time. I have very few arrangements to make.” “I should like to show you some views of Niagara, which I have here, Mr. Cromwell,” said Paul Morton. “Will you please step to the table?” Tho clerk left his seat, and ad vanced to the side of the merchant’s chair. “There,” said Paul Morton, look ing over the views, and selecting one, “is a view of Goat island. You will no doubt visit that?” “Yes, sir; we will try and see all that is worth seeing.” “I think,” said Paul Morton, slowly, “I have heard of a man—or a boy—who was standing here one day, and chanced to lose his footing, and fell over the cataract. Horrible, was it not?” He looked significantly in the face of his companion. James Cromwell’s* faco grow pale, as ho i comprehended the infernal meaning • of this speech, and ho echoed the ; word “Horrible.” James Cromwell did not reply to ' the merchant's speech. Not that he was so much appalled at the wicked ness suggested, as that his nature, which was a timid one, shrank with timidity from undertaking so hazardous a crime. Paul Morton, seeing the sudden pallor of his com i panion, knew that his purpose had j been accomplished, and went on to ! other matters. “I think,” ho said, “that you will • bo able to start on the day after to 1 morrow. I will see that Robert is ready, and if you will come round by nine o’clock, there will be ample, time to take the middle train.” “Very well,” said Cromwell. “I will bear in mind what you say, Mr. Morton.” “And now, I think, Mr. Cromwell, I shall be obliged to leave you, as ; my business, which I have neglected of late, requires my attention.” James Cromwell took the hint, and loft the house. Ho fell into a fit of musing, as he rode down town on a i street-ear. “.Shall I do this thing which he I wants of mo?” lie said to himself, ' “There would be danger in it, and there is something ugly in tlio 1 thought of murder. Still, ten thou- ! sand dollars would set me up in life. Resides, I should still have a hold on Mr. Morton. Ah, it would be pleas ant to be rich! No more miserable drudgery, no more cringing to an employer who cares no more for you i than for a dog, and perhaps treats j you r.o better! Money, money is a blessed thing. It brings independ- j ence; with it your can lift you head ; erect, and walk proudly among men, j who are always ready to dolf their ! hats to a man who is backed up by i wealth. Yes. it is worth something : to gain it, but then—murder!” Here James Cromwell shuddered, ! and imprisonment, trial, conviction and the gallows, loomed up, an ugly j picture, before him. _'_ CHAPTER XI. On Goat Island. “Robert,” said his guardian, “this ! is Mr. Cromwell, who is to take > charge of you on the journey. Mr. ; Cromwell, this is my ward, whom I : hope you will lind a pleasant travel- j ing companion.” “How do you do?” said James : Cromwell, holding out his hand rather stiffly to the boy. “I am well, thank you,” said Robert, looking with curiosity, and it must be confessed, disappoint ment. at the young man who was to bo his companion. He had hoped that ho would be a congenial person, with whom he might be on terms of pleasant famili arity; but when he looked at the small ferret-like eyes and mean features of James Cromwell, his j first impressions were unfavorable. 1 Every man’s face is to a certain cx tent indicative of his disposition and } prevailing traits; and Robert, who was quicker than most boys in read ing character, concluded without de lay, that the companion with which his guardian had provided him would not be to his taste. Still, he pos sessed a great deal of natural court esy and politeness, and he deter mined to conceal this feeling as well as he might, and treat Mr. Cromwell with as much respect and politeness as if he had liked him better. Though he would have likel to travel with a different person, still, the natural scenery which lie would be hold would be none the less attrac tive, and would afford him some com pensation for the absence of a con genial companion. James Cromwell was on his side not without sharpness or insight. As , he met the boy’s gaze with the ! glance of his small ferret-like eyes, he perceived the look of disappoint- : meat, however carefully it was veil ed, and with the spite of a small, j mean mind, it inspired him with in stant dislike for Robert. Instead of determining to win his confidence i and regard by kindness, he resolved j as soon as he fairly had him in his ! power, to annoy him by petty tyr- : anny, and so wreak vengeance upon him for the feelings ho could not helpi “I have obtained tickets for you by the middle train," proceeded the merchant. “Hero they are," Mr. Cromwell.” “Thank you, sir,” said Cromwell, taking them and putting them in his pocket “You will remain at Niagara two or three days if you like," continued Paul Morton. “I have no doubt you will enjoy yourself. What do you say, Robert?" “I shall bo sure to enjoy it;" said Robert wixh animation. “So shall I." said Cromwell. “I have never visited the falls. “Well,” said the merchant, draw- j ; ing on his gloves, “I am sorry, but I , shall be obliged to leave you. T have considerable business awaiting me i at my counting room. 1 have or dered a carriage at eleven to convey | you with your trunks to the railroal depot. Good-bye. Robert, good-byo, Mr. Cromwell. A pleasant journey to you." “Goorl-bye, sir,” said both. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Cromwell,” said the merchant, turning as he reached the door, and looking sig nificantly at Cromwell, “if you meet with any mishap, telegraph to me at once. ” Again a greenish pallor overspread the face of James Cromwell, for ho understood the allusion, and his cow ardly nature recoiled with fear, not with abhorronce. “Yes, sir,” he said, “I will re member. ” “Once more, good-bye, then,” and Paul Morton closed the door behind him. “I hope I shall never see that boy alive again. ” he said to himself. • Once get him out of the way and the money is mine. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars will be a great wind-fall to me. To be sure, there will be ten thousand to pay to Cromwell, but it will leave ousr a hundred thousand. Egad! it would be a capital arrangement if they both would tumble over the falls to gether. It would be tho best joke of the season.” In due time they reached the sta tion, and entering one of the long cars, selected their seats. They did not sit down together, but took seats directly in front of each other, giv ing a window to each. “I suppose 1 ought to say some thing to him,” thought Robert, “but I don’t know what to say.” Indeed, there seemed to bo no common ground on which they could meet. With some persons the boy would have been engaged in an ani mated conversation long before this, but be seemed to have nothing to say to James Cromwell. “Do you like traveling?” ho asked at length. “i rutty well, said Cromwell. “I think we shall have a pleasant journey.” ‘•Yes; I expert so.” “Do you know when we shall reash Niagara, Mr. Cromwell?” “I think Mr. Morton said it would take us about twcnty:four hours.” “Then wo shall get there about this time to-morrow. ” “Fes; wo shall be all night on the cars.” “I am sorry for that, for we shall lose the scenery on the way—I mean, that wa pass through during the night.” Here the conversation dropped. James Cromwell bought a paper from a boy who came through the cars, and began to read. Robert, with all the eager interest of his age, employed himself in looking out of the window, watching the fields and houses among which they were wending their rapid way. It will be unnecessary to chronicle the inci dents of the journey, for there were none worth mentioning. In due time they reached Niagara, and se cured rooms at the principal hotel on the American side. It was after noon, and they only went round a little before supper. They decided to defer the principal part of tlieir sight seeing until the next day. I he next day was pleasant. To gether the two walked about, enjoy ing views of the cataract from vari ous points. At length Cromwell said, “How would you like to go to Coat island? I am told the view is fine from there.” “I should like it very much. Sup pose we go,” said Robert promptly. Had he known the sinister purpose with which this proposition was made, he would have recoiled from it as from a deadly serpent, but the boy was wholly unconscious of the peril that menaced him, nor did he observe the nervous agitation that affected James Cromwell, whose tim idity made him shrink with fear at the risk he was about to incur. “Then we will go,” said the young man. [TO BE CONTINUED.] White vs. Colored. There was a boy who was sent out by his father to sell some potatoes. He carried the bag around all day without a sale, aud, on reaching home at night threw it down with the surly exclamation: “Nobody that I met asked me for potatoes. One fellow wanted to know what I had in the bag and I told him it was ! none of his darned business.” There was, in the same town a col ored gentleman who went about bawling at the top of his voice: “Fish! Fish! Fish! Fresh Fish!” “Shut up that racket!” said an angry dame at a window. “F'ou heah me. missy?” “Hear you? You can be heard a mile away.” “Dat’s what I’se hollerin’ for. Fish! Fish! Fresh Fish!” The colored gentleman was an ad vertiser—and sold his goods.—Hard ware. Superstition. A gentleman who had been dining at a restaurant, and who had often ordered a dozen oysters, counted them one day and found but eleven. Still another day ho counted them with the same result. Then he said to the waiter: “Why do you give me only eleven oysters when I order a dozen?” “Oh. sir,” answered the waiter, “I didn’t think you’d want to be settin’ thirteen at table, sir!” — Youth’s Companion. Definitely Settled. Mrs. Rusher—Has Mr. Goldcoin, with whom you have been dancing | all the evening, at last declared hia intentions, Mabel? Mabel—Yes. aunt. am so glad! And what did he say?” • He declared that he would never marry. ”—Vogue. | TABERNACLE PULPIT. SUICIDE THE SUBJECT OF THIS WEEK’S SERMON. In the Olden Time, He for© tlio Dawn of Christianity, Self Murder Was Con sidered Honorable and a Sign of Courage—Mora! Cowardice. Brooklyn, N. V., Aug. 12.—Rev. Dr. ' Taimagc, who is now abroad, has selected as the subject for to-day’s sermon through the press, the word ".Suicide,” the text being Acls xvi : 27, 2$: "lie drew out his sword and would have killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had fled. But 1’aul cried witn a loud voice, saying, Do thyself no harm.” Here is a would-be suicide arrested in his deadly attempt. He was a sheriff and according to the Roman law a bailiff himself must suffer the punishment due an escaped prisoner; and if the prisoner breaking jail was sentenced to be endungeoned for three or four years, then the sheriff must be endungeoned for three or four years; and if the prisoner breaking jail was to have suffered capital punishment, then the sheriff must suffer capital punishment. The sheriff had received especial charge to keep a sharp lookout for I*.iul and Silas. The government had not had confidence in holts and bars to keep safe these two clergymen, about whom there seemed to be some thing strange and supernatural. Sure enough, by miraculous power, they are free, and the sheriff, waking out of a sound sleep, and supposing these ministers have run away, and knowing that they were to die for preaching Christ, and realizing that lie must therefore die, rather than go under the execution: r’s ax, on the morrow and suffer public disgrace, resolves to precipitate his own de cease. Hut before the sharp, keen, glittering dagger of the sheriff could strike his heart, one of the unloosened prisoners arrests the blade by the command, ”Do thyself no harm.” In olden time, and where Christi anity had not interfered with it, suicide was considered honorable and a sign of courage. Demosthenes poisoned himself when told that Alex ander’s ambassador had demanded the surrender of the Athenian orators. Isocrates killed himself rather than surrender to Phillip of Macedon. Cato, rather than submit to Julius C'iesar, took his own life, and after three times his wounds had been dressed tore them open and perished. Mithridates killed himself rather than submit to Pompey, the conqueror. Hannibal destroyed his life by poison from bis ring, considering life un. bearable. After the disaster of Mos cow, Napoleon always carried with him a preparation of opium, and one ni(rht bis servant heard the ex-em neror arise, put something in a glass nnd drink it, and soon after the groans aroused all the attendants, and it was only through utmost medical skill he was resuscitated from the stupor of [ the opiate. T.mes have changed, and yet the American conscience needs to be toned up on the subject of suicide. Have you seen a paper in the last month that did not announce the passage out of life by one’s own behest? De faulters, alarmed at the idea of ex posure, quit life precipitately. Men losing large fortunes go out of the world because they can not endure earthly existence. Frustrated affec tion, domestic infelicity, dyspeptic im patience, auger, remorse, envy, jeal ousy, destitution, misanthropy are considered sufficient causes for ab sconding from tins life by Paris g-een, bv laudanum, by belladonna, bv Othello’s dagger, by halter, by leap from the abutment of a bridge, by firearms. More cases of “felo de so” in the last two years of the world’s 1 existence. The evil is more and more j spreading. A pulpit not long ago expressed i some doubt as to whether there was anything wrong about quitting this life when it became disagreeable, and there are found in respectable circles people apologetic for the crime which Paul in the text arrested. I shall show you before I get through that suicide is the worst of all crimes and I shall lift a warning unmistakable. But in the early part of this sermon I wish to admit that some of the best Christians that have ever lived have committed self-destruction, but always in dementia and not responsible. I have no more doubt about their eternal felicity than I have of the Christian who dies in his bed in the delirium of typhoid fever. While the shock of the catastrophe is-very great, I charge all those who have had Chris tian friends under cerebral aberration step off the boundaries of this life, to have no doubt about their happiness. The dear Lord took them right out of their dazed and frenzied state into perfect safety. How Christ feels to ward the insane you may known from the kind way he treated the demoniac of Gadara and the child lunatic, and the potency with which he hushed the tempests either of sea or brain. Scotland, the land prolific of intel lectual giants, had none grander than Hugh Stiller. Great for science and great for God. He came of the best Highland blood, and; he was a de scendant of Ronald liov, a iuen emi nent for his piety and the rare gift of second-sight His attainments.climb ing up as be did from the quarry and the wall of the stonemasons, drew forth the astonished admiration of Buckland and Murchison, the scient ists, and Dr. Chalmers,the theologian, and held universities spellbound while he told them the story of what he had ! seen of God in the old red sand stone. ! That man did more than any being j that ever lived to show that the God j of the hills is the God of the Bible, and he struck his tuning fork on the rocks of Cromarty until lie brought geology and theology accordant iD divine worship. His two books, en titled "Footprints of the Creator" and the “Testimony of the Ilocks," pro claimed the bans of an everlasting marriage between genuine science and revelation. On this latter hook he toiled day and night through love of nature and love of (iod. until he could not sleep, and liis brain gave way, and he was found dead with a revolver by bis side, the cruel instru ment having had two bullets—one for him and the other for the gunsmith wno at the coroner s inquest was ex amining it and fell dead. Have you any doubt of the beatification of Hugh Miller, after his hot brain had ceased throbbing that winter night in liis study at Portobello? Among the mightiest of earth, among the mighti est of heaven. No one ever doubted the piety of William Cowper, the author of those three great hymns, "Oh, for a closer walk with God," "What various hin drances we meet,” "There is a foun tain filled with blood.” William Cowper, who shares with Isaac Watts and Charles Wesley the chief honors of Christian liymnology. In hypochon dria he resolved to take liis own life and rode to the river Thames, but found a man seated on some goods at the very point from which he ex pected to spring, and rode back to his home, and that night threw himself upon his own knife, hut the blade broke, and then he hanged himself to the ceiling, but the rope parted. No wonder that when God mercifully de livered him from that awful dementia he sat down and wrote that other hymn just as memorable: God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; Ha plants his footstep in the sen, And rides upon the storm. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he wi;l make it plain, hile we make this merciful and righteous allowance in regard to those who were plunged into mental inco herence, I declare that the man who in the use of his reason, by his own act, snaps the bond between liis body and his soul, goes staight into per dition. Shall I prove it? Revelation viii: ‘’Murderers shall have their part in the lake which burneth with tire and brimstone.” Revelation xv: “W ithout are dogs, and sorcerers, and whoremongers, and murderers.” You do not believe the New Testament? Alien, perhaps, you believe the Ten commandments: ‘‘Thou shalt not kill.” Do you say all these passages refer to the taking of the life of others9 Then I ask you if you are not as responsible for your own life as for the life of others? God gave you a special trust in your life. lie made you the custodian of your life as lie made you the custodian of no other life. He gave you as weapons with which to defend it two arms, to strike back assailants, two eyes to watch for invasion, and a natural love of life which ought ever to be on the alert. Assassination of others is a mild crime compared with the assassi nation of yourself, because in the lat ter case it is treachery to an especial trust, it is the surrender of a castle you were especially appointed to keep, it is treason to a natural law and it is treason to God added to ordinary murder. Notwithstanding t:>e Bible is against this evil, and the aversion which it ; creates by the loathsome and ghastly spectacle of those who have hurled themselves out of life, and notwith standing Christianity is against it, and the arguments and the useful lives and the illustrious deaths of its disciples, it is a fact alarmingly patent that suicide is on the increase. What is the cause? 1 charge upon .infidelity and agnosticism this whole thing. If there be no hereafter, or if that hereafter be blissful with- ! out reference to how we live I aid liow we die, why not move ! back the folding doors between this world and the next? And when our existence here becomes troublesome, j why not pass right over into Elysium? | l’ut this down among yoi-r most solemn reflections and consider it after you go to your homes; there has j never been a case of suicide where the operator was not either demented and therefore irresponsible, or an infidel, i J challenge all the ages and I chal lenge the whole universe. There never lias been a case of self-destruc tion while in full appreciation of his immortality and of the fact that that j immortality would be glorious or wretched according as he accepted Jesus Christ or reieeted him. You say it is business trou hie, or ! you say it is electrical currents, or it j is this, or it is that, or it is the other thing. Why not go clear back, my friend, and acknowledge that in. every case it is the abdication of reason or the teaching of infidelity which Drac tieally says, "If you don't like this life, get out of it, and you will land either in annihilation, where there are no notes to pay. no persecutions to suffer, no gout to torment, or you will land where- there will be every thing glorious and nothing to pay for it.” Infidelity always lias been apolo getic for self-immolation. After Tom Paine's “Age of Keason” was pub lished and widely read there was a marked increase of seif-slaughter. Would God that the coroners would be brave in rendering the right ver dict, and when in the case of irre sponsibility they say, "While this man was demented he took his life,” in the other case say, “Having read infidel books and attended infidel lectures, which obliterated from this man's mind all appreciation of anv thing like future retribution, he com mitted self-slaughter!” * Ah! Infidelity, stand up and take I thy sentence! In the presence of God and angels and men. stand up. thou monster, thy lip blasted with blas phemy, thy cheek scarred with lust, thy breath foul with the corruption of tlie ages! Stand up, Satyr, lil thy goat, buzzard of the nations, leper of the centuries! Stand up. thou mon ster infidelity! Part man. part pan ther. part reptile, part dragon, stand up and take thy sentence! Thy hands red with the bluo 1 in which thou hast washed, thy feet crimson with the human gore through which thou hast waded, stand up and take tiiy sen tence! Down with thee to the pit and sup on the sobs and groans of families thou hast blasted, and roll on the bed of knives vvliien thou hast sharpened for others, and let thy music be the everlasting miserere of those whom thou hast damned! I brand the fore head of Infidelity with all the crimes of self-itmnolation for the last century on the part of those who had their reason. My friends, if ever your life through its abrasions and its molestations should seem to be unbearable, and you are tempted to quit it by your own behest do not consider yourselves as worse than others. Christ himself was tempted to cast himself from the roof of the temple; but ns he re sisted, so resist ye. Christ came to medicine all our wounds. In your trouble prescribe life instead of death. People wtio have had it worse than you will ever have it have gone songful on their way. Uemem ber that God keeps tlie chronology of your life with as much precision as he keeps tlie chronology of nations, your death as well as your birth, your grave as well as your cradle. l\hy was it that at midnight, just at midnight, tlie destroying angel struck the blow that set tlie Israelites free from bondage? Tlie four hun dred and thirty years were up at 12 o’clock that night The four hundred and thirty years were not up at 11, and 1 o'clock would have been tardy aud too late. The four hundred and thirty years were up at 12 o’clock, and tlie destroying angel struck tlie blow and Israel was free. And God knows just tlie hour when it is time to lead you up from earthly bondage. l*y bis grace make not the worst of things, but the best of them. If you must take tlie pills do not chew them. Your everlasting rewards will accord with your earthly perturbations, just as Caius gave to Agrippa a chain of gold as heavy as had been his chain of iron. For your asking you may have tlie same grace that was given to the Italian martyr, Algerius, who, down in the darkest of dungeons, dated his letter from “the delectable orchard of the Leonine prison.” And remember that this brief life of ours is surrounded by a rim, a very thin but very important rim, and close up to that rim is a great eternity, and you had better keep out of it un til God breaks that rim and' separates this from that To get rid of the sor rows of earth, do not rush into greater sorrows. To get rid of a swarm of summer insects, leap not into a jungle of Bengal tigers. There is a sorrowless world, and it is so radiant that tlie noonday sun is only tlie lowest doorstep and the aurora that lights up our northern heavens, confounding astronomers as to what it can be, is the waving of the banners of the procession come to take the conquerors home from church militant to church triumphant, and you and I have ten thousand reasons for wanting to go there, but we will never get there either by self-immola tion or impeniteney. All our sins slain by the Christ who came to do that thing, v.e want to go in at just the time divinely arranged, and then tlie clang of the sepulchral gates be hind us will he overpowered by tlie clang of the opening of tlie solid pearl before us. O God. whatever others may choose, give me a Christian's life, a Christian’s death, a Christian's burial, a Christian’s immortality) L’ses of the Potato. In France the farina is largely used or culinary purposes. The famous gravies, sauces and soups of France are largely indebted for their excellence to that source, aud the bread and pastry equally so, while a great deal of the so called cognac, imported into England from France, is distilled from the pota to. Throughout Germany the same uses are common. In Poland the man ufacture of spirits from the potato is a most extensive trade. “'Stettin brandy,” well known in commerce, is largely im ported into England, and is sent from thence to many of our foreign posses sions as the produce of the grape, and is placed on many a table of England as the same; while the fair ladies of onr country perfume themselves with the spirit of potato tinder the designation of eaude Cologne. But there are other uses which this esculent is turned to abroad. After extracting the farina, the pulp is manufactured into orna mental articles, such as picture frames, snuff boxes, and several descriptions of toys, and the water that runs from it in the process of manufacture is a most valuable scourer. For perfectly cleansing woolens, aud such-iike articles, it is the housewife’s panacea, and, if the washerwoman hap pens to have chilblains, she becomes cured by the operation. The- last 0/ trank Holies* patters, “August birds in Cape breton,” has the place of honor in the August At lantic, at the right hand of the hostess, so to spes-k, for it follows immediately upon the installment of Mrs Deland's “Philip and his Wife” at the opening of the number. In the third’ place stands Susan < oolidge s. - The Girlhood of an Autocrat,” the story of the fa mous Empress Catharine of Itussia. but the order of precedence does not fix the relative merits of the contributions to the magazine, for towards the end is a significant paper, "The College Gradu ate and Public I-ife," by Theodore Kooseveit. At Madrid sentries exposed to the “death breath,” blowing from the Gu adarama mountains, are changed every half hour. China's national hymn is so long that the people tal e half a day to listen to it.
