THE JOURNAL.
WEDNESDAY, AP1IIL 12, 1832.
latcrti at thi
:Um untr.
Pestsfles, C:hatu. ITrt.. i: ttoeai
AT THE FICTVBE-GALLERY.
want to see the pictures, Tom ud J,
' ?U8n &ulh' e bota fond of ait;
hearth l m e( amtr's
We lingered all fee afternoon, we two,
; ,!f B'wntln the softened light.
"u2? Md wnd we went, each tern to
And often almost kneeled for better eight.
'fflJT halt,n8' and lon. eagwlooka.
By rnstlinx converse with our guide and
friend.
The catalogue had eeetned the book of books.
And life a stretch of paintings to the encL
i
P,'i5L5rP-,cture' P b P" w went.
Dubbed ths one - perfect," and that other
Ton never saw two critics so intent.
I don't know what folks thought c
thought of us, Ti
sure.
Yet, do you know? some
things drive others
If you had asked me ere another day
About tho pictures on those walls, Idonbt
It I had known aelwrle word to say.
In fact, that evening, in our homeward walk,
we settled much concerning Tom and me.
And not one word was said, in all our talk.
Of pictures or of painters don't you see?
Harper's Bazar.
cut:
SAM SPEBRYS PENSION.
For more than two years it was the
Joke of Bloomington Center that
bright hope, that idle dream, that fond,
delusive fancy, known as "Sam Sper
ry'a Pension' '
The wits who congregated-in the bar
room and grocery of the Bloomington
Center Post-office sometimes had, only a
sad consciousness of futility in their
beat efforts; the column of facetue in
the local newspaper frequently palled
on the senses; but Sam Sperry's lank
and stooping figure as he descended
faithfully, twice every week, from his
lone home on the distant mountain, to
"leant the news from Washington,"
bore with it an aroma of never-failing
interest and diversion.
"Any 'ficlal dokkerments arrived for
Be?" Sam was accustomed to inquire.
on entering the Post-office, with an air
of ill-concealed consequence; and on
being answered in the negative, the
look of sudden surprise and incredu
lity which overspread his features was
always as fresh and real as it had been
during the first six months he had un
dergone the blow. His recovery was
as complete and instantaneous, when,
seated on the counter with the "boys,"
he derided the very existence of -his
proud Nation's capital in terms of the
most reckless sarcasm, or, in a eofter
mood, induced by certain grateful po
tations, palliated the weakness of offi
cial judges with a forbearance which
his listeners found even more irresisti
bly entertaining.
"They think they're comin' it over
me, down there to'Washington," Sam
observed on one ocension. rolling his
yes upon his near neighbor on the
counter with a look which was dark
without menace, and at the same time
forcibly introducing the sharp point of
his elbow to that gentleman's ribs
they think they're comin' it over me,
down there to Washington. And all
the time they're hangin' off about
my pension, what's accumulatin' down
there? what's accumulatin?" Here
Sam's companion -was actually obliged
to move an inch or two away in order
to escape the too severe emphasis of
that emaciated elbow. " Back pay!"
chuckled Sam: "that's what's accumula
tin' back pay! Let 'em hold off ten or
a dozen years longer, and I'll be swim
mln' in back pay I'll be fairly wal
lerin' in it."
With which the deenly confidential
aspect of -Sam's face changed to a
triumphant simper, and, turning' to
nudge another companion (as he sup
posed) on his right, he inadvertently
thrust his elbow through the wrappage
of a larjje" parcel' of sugar, the contents
of which were scattered over the grocery
floor. u
Sam's expression of dismay was piti
ful. "Have it charged to your back pay,
Sam" cried an uproarious, though cheer
ful, voice.
Sam took up the cue, and ever after
that his descent from the West Mount
aim, which had before been significant
of a small invoice of skunks' fur, blue
berries, and the like, at the Blooming
ton grocery, missed the hampering
weight of those hardly-acquired pro
ducts, and Sam's business transactions
at the counter the understanding
being good between the grocer and those
iolly Bloomington boys were rounded
by a regally careless: "Charge it to
pension, Wed reg'lar pension or back
pay, I don't care which."
Barely, very rarely, bam really did
find a document waiting for him at the
Post-office, marked with the mysterious
seal of the Department of -the Interior,
and opened t with fingers of trembling
expectation, onlyrto find a printed sheet
of painfully worded statistics, to the ef
fect that "besides the two hundred
ad ninety thousand filled claims, oth
ers were constantly being entered, but
that in due time each would - receive
careful, consideration,?' etc. His first
heat of desperate indignation yielded
later to tears of unaffected sentiment, as
he murmured: "Pension! I guess so,
boys! the grass '11 be growing over my
Eve before 1 see any pension," and
ir still to smile and hope again.
The gunshot wound in his right hand
upon which Sam had based his claim on
the National bounty was of small ac
eovnt compared with the harm which
he had seflered," both in body and eouL
from the soldiers' camp life.'the South
ern marshes and the Southern prisons.
I don't know what Sam might 'a
been, orwhathemightnot'abeen.'-' said
Jadge Hotoomb; a prosperous citizen of
Bloomington. "Pon my honor, boys,
he began uncommon bright, though he
wa'n't never what ve'd call pertick'ler
tough or long-winded. But I can tell
ye one thing, Sam Sperry wa'n't never
the same man after he come out o' that
Southern prison."
Even atter this asseveration I do not
know that any of the frequenters of the
Bloomington bazar remarked that' the
boyish head on Sam's bent shoulders,
with its rings of close-carling light hair,
was of a Byronic cast, or that his eyes,
when not filmy from the effects of ague
r rum, were of such a perfect and
heavenly blue as is seldom seen in the
nndimmed orbs of children. Sam was
their Punch, their by-word, their the-ater-comique;
they would have paid
twice the price of his lordly though pru
4eat negotiations at the counter rather
that raise the zeetaSerded Sy his semi
weekly appearance. WiUU touch of
real ;pity, too," .perhaps, for their old
comrade, they cajoled w:th him in his
forlorn hope, encouraged in him at all
tiatee the freest expression of aissea
tfanents, nattered him and regaled
hiss. And often, alas! the feet
which had come shuffling down
the mountain awkwardly , enoagli
and loosely enough, retraced their
Steps in a still more desultory and un
certain manner, and chance passers-by
have told how Sam, pausing at length
Vy some way-side fence, frequent
ly nudged the post with his elbow, as
though having just committed to it
gravely connucnnai or facetious
one nerson whom Sam's
and derelictions 'failed to in-
aire with appreciative mirth. In the
eveighborhood of Sam's house onrthe
leantsm there were two other homes.
One was possessed bv Isaac xravers.with
his belligerent wife and numerous small
children; in the other Mary Ellsworth
Hrelt alone with her mother.
Years ago. Sam aud Mary had gone
Sawn hand in hand to the school kept
in the little hamlet at . the foot of the
moon tain. Marv still fcemMt tho imun.
mountain. Mary still keeps the green
covered "speller" in which she and
Sam studied their lessons together.
And they were at the hear of the class
always, the mountain l.ov and.giri
always at the head of th3 class, and
always first and most im ious in play;
Mary small, brown-eyed, Muurp-witted,
and Sam handsome and tall, with his
cherubic curls and saucv red-lips.
Then Sam's parents died, and he
went over to help John Ellsworth in his
mill, and the work prospered under his
strong, blithe hand. And as the days
passed by, Sam and Mary shrank coyly
away from the affectionate intimacy of
their childhood, and ended by falling
as deeply in love with each other as
though they had now for the first time
exchanged glauces across the rapturous
bounds of manhood and maidenhood.
Their love, having such tender root in
the past, sent out bright branches of
hope for the future, aud was as strong
as life with them both. Mary would
have borne anything for Sam; and Sam,
who was of a quick and impetuous na
ture, found his equilibrium in the
sweet firmness of Mary's.character, and
adored her for, the loving sarcasm with
which she rebuked his pet faults such
bright and captivating faults as Sam's
were then.
Sam and Mary were engaged when
the war broke out: and the two men of
John Ellsworth's household went away,
and the two women waited in their sol
itary home on the mountain, cheered
ay letters at first; afterward their
only hope lay in 'some chance re
turning figure along the road that
came winding up from the villages
below. John Ellsworth never came
back along that dear familiar road; and
when Sam returned one day, weak,
ague-shaken, demented, but still fondly,
foolishly faithful, Mary, called of God
to endure this neater sorrow than anv
death could bring, spent the solitude of
one black night in terrible rebellion, and
when the morning dawned, laid her
broken heart at the foot of the cross,
and rose with a calm "I will for ever
more."
Sam went back wonderingly to oc
cupy the long-deserted home" of his
childhood; but it was Mary's hand that
brought him bread and meat, that made
his bed, and swept the floor, and fur
nished his poor home with every com
fort. Sam knew that, it was all changed
somehow. The tongue once so wia
ningly sarcastic was now ever too
deeply compassionate. He sorrowed
over it with the vague 'sorrow of a
child. But he trusted Marv. She
knew; she would set it all right in time.
The light, 'the hope,' the promise of his
youth, so helplessly, so mysteriously
lost they Tvere all kept waiting for
him somewhere in Mary's great dark
eyes.
But when Sam came tottering up the
hill, on his return 'home, ne had
brought with him a parcel the contents
of which he had not revealed to any eye.
It contained his wedding clothes, new
and sleek, of the finest black broadcloth.
In the pathetic loneliness of his home
he acquired the habit of fondling these,
of gloating over them, even of trying
them on "before the glass; and then, as
he stood in his best mood, with his
bonny hair carefully curled, one never
saw so sweet and weak a face. Sam
longed yet everhesitated to appear be
fore Mary in these splendid habiliments.
That strange trouble on his mind
deterred him. He was never so shy,
so conscious of his lost estate as when in
"Miss Mary's" presence never withal
so strangely happy and content. One
evening as he sat'before her. the wed
ding garments he had left at home
filled all his thought
"I I never cared for any girl but
you, Mary," he exclaimed abruptly,
with a spark of the old fire in his eyes.
"I I never could.11
" No, Sam," Mary answered, gently,
" I don't believe you ever.could."
"You you promised to marry me
once," said Sam, that brief fire chang
ing, for another instant, to a look of
solemn wonder and reproach.
A deathly pallor crept over Mary's
face. Then she came close to Sara, and
laid her hand on his, and looked into
his ees with all the beautiful' tender
ness and pity of her deeply tried soul.
"I shall always be true to you,
Sam.'" she said. "There are some
things we can't understand. We must
be patient But that what we hoped
for once now in this world that,
dear Sam, must never be!"
"Yes. Mary," Sam answered, sweet
ly obedient thrilled through and
through by the touch of her dear hand,
"that must never be." And he repeat
ed the words simply all the way home:
" That must never be." It was all
right, somehow. "Mary knew." But
he folded the wedding clothes and put
them yaway that "night as one who
should never need to take them down
asain.
After this the ruined
life clune still
closer to that strong and patient one,
and the little services which Sam
was accustomed to perform for Mary,
when not suffering with the ague,
or following after, the fond hal
lucination' of ' his ' pension" the
fetching of wood and the drawing
of water these lost to his poor, ador
ing mind every base and menial qaat
ity, and were like the offering of a de
votee laid tremblingly at the teet of an
angeL
And the time passed all too swiftly
for the work of Mary's hands. Be
sides her ministrations to Sam and her
mother, her generous thought for the
wretched Travers family, the name of
Mary Ellsworth, for the gracious help
and sympathy which it implied, was
known And loved in all the villages be
low; and. in times of sickness or sor
row, or added care, the journey up the
mountain-side was cheap which could
procure a day of those coveted serv
ices. It was the affliction of unexpected
company which had overtaken Judge
Holcomb's wifeless home ana refractory
servants. Mary, with rare firmness,
established there in a dav her univer
sal rule of peace. Among the other
fuests was a young actress from New
ork, the Judge's niece, blonde, hand
some, magnificent At evening, as
Mary stood, before her return
home, waiting an instant in the
hall, so quiet and demure, with her.
dark hair parted in an old, old fashion,
and her sad, lustrous eyes and her
face breathing that ineffable refine
ment which the calm endurance of
some hidden and exalted sorrow alone
can give, the dashing young actress ad
vanced upon her suddenly, and folded
her with aa impetuous gesture in her
strong white arms. "I love you!" she
whispered. "I love you! 1 love yen
desperately!"
The' Judge's own wooing was less im
passioned, when, some weeks after
ward he left his smart horse and buggy
at Mary's gate, and entered the house.
"I formed a very fav'rable opinion of
yon, Mary," said this grandiose person
age, "a good many years ago, and Pve
merer had any cause to alter that opin
io. In fact, I come in here to say
that I should like to have you come
down to my house in the capacity of a
" ..,-..
There was a grace; a penec seu-ren-
anee: in 'Mary's old-fashioned manner,
which relieved it from any imputation
of stiffness, as she answered, in mach
the same words that she had used in ad
dressing Sam some- time before, bat
wita such a dtaeraat tome ia ue nag c
her clear voice: I thank you, bat that
can never be." And the Judge drove
away, .anaaed and .dhmppomfceeV.bat,
most of all, sorry, for Mary.
Sam was the next caller. He, had
seen the smart buggy at Mary's gate
He entered, timid aad hesitating, aad
eat for seme time shifting uneasily
about in his chair. At length: "1 I
I nerer care4for.auj girl bat yon, Mary.
t i novo .,, k. n.4.,i . J
i i never
could," he repeated, ( ear-
n'estlv.
And Mary answered, as she had done
before, " No, Sam, L don't believe you
ever could."
Sam drew his sleeve quickly across
his eves. "You you ain't goin to
,leave,the old mountain, Mary?"
, Never!" Mary answered, and, as be?
fore, her tone quieted and consoled
h'm.
After what' seemed a long time,
though the tears were still standing in
Sam's blue eyes, " I forgot, Mary," he
said, meekly. "I came in to sav
you're young yet andr handsome, 'Man
and if vou had a better chance I
don't know i what 1 what we should
do without you but if you had a better
chance -vou you mustn'tyou know
Mary"
There he paused. Mary did not
smile, but her heart yearned over Sam
as a mother's might over a child whe
has tried in vain to be good and brave
and unselfish. And Sam went away
comforted.
It was the third bleak winter since
Sam's return to the mountain, and he
meanwhile growing weaker and sillier
with each successive season, but ever
faithful in hi3 inquires after his pen
sion at the Bloomington Post-olllce.
The Bloomington boys thought it a
rare joke to impress 'upon his mind
that the only reason-why Miss Mary de
ferred giving hinvher hand in marriage
was his continued inability to obtain his
pension.
"Jest wait till you get your pension,
Sam," said Ned Hemingway, the store
keeper, delicately hinting on this point,
and then see!"
And Sam doubted utterly at first
away down in his heart doubted always;
but as he lent himself more and more
to the erratic fancy, it fired and con
sumed his brain.
One night, from the alternate chills
and fevers which shook his frame,
Sam fell asleep. Instead of his lone,
dark room, the road winding from
the mountain to the village rose
before his eves. That road, usu
ally so tortuous and long, was
straight and bathed in light He trav
ersed it At the end a palace gate,
and at the gate a white winged angel
stood, his pension in her shining hand.
Sam gazed. Above those peaceful
wings was Mary's face. She smiled as
she had smiled upon him long ago. He
woke, and slept no more that' night
With the morning he put on his wed
ding clothes. No doubt op hesitation
possessed him now. There was a ter
rible exultation in his eyes. This time
he did not stop, as was his wont at
Miss Mary's house. The road down
the mountain-side was tortuous and
long. There was no palace gate at the,
end; no pension. Those who watched
Sam's face in this last instance of his
ever-recurring disappointment say .that
a look came over' it which nad never
been there before. He rested on the
counter and drowsed, and almost faint
ed, but he would not drink. This pro
voked unbounded astonishment Sam's
dying flesh craved the cup with an aw
ful thirst, but Mary's eyes were
stronger, and Mary's eyes seemed to
be upon him. and.-he would not drink,
"ft would, choke me, boys." he tried
to say, turning away weakly.
He manifested a aesire to maxe nis
will. It was a rare occasion at the
Bloomington grocery.
" It's all to go to Mary," he ex
claimed, excitedly, "pension, back pay
and all." The last flame of the fever
was flickering and wasting in his eyes.
He rested and dozed again. At noon
he started for home; at four o'clock he
had traversed only half of the lonely
winter road; at the foot of the mount
ain it was sunset he staggered and
fell down. We shrink from the records
of fates so sad. We need not fear.
One greater than we, and more com
passionate by far, comforts the death
of His lambs when they fall in the deso
late places. The pain in Sam's body
eased. Across his mind flitted a brief
trouble.
"I wish Mary could know," he said,
"that I wouldn't touch it for her
sake." And later and more solemnly:
"I wish Mary could know that I
seem now to understand. I seem
now to see "
An old story tells of the prodigal
who wandered, and who came back to
his father's house; of the purpose, run
ning through all the weakness and
sin. of the wonder "and suffering of our
human lives to make us hungry,
and to bring us home. So, over
Sam's wasting face, there crept first
the infinite, unbearable hunger of the
soul, and then the quiet look of one
whom God leads home; and the blue
eyes, piercing now beyond the light' of
sun or moon, met unshrinkingly the
shadows of the deepening night and
unshrinkingly the clear gaze of the
solemn stars.
And Marv knew. When they
brought Sam home to her in his wed
ding garments, she looked upon his
face, and she knew that the bridegroom
had. indeed, come back, clothed and
joyful, to the bride; the lost spirit to,
the strength and beauty of its first es-'
tate.-And she,kiasedthe dead lips in
that last act of perfect loye and conse
cration, and knelt'and thanked God.
A few days after Sam's death, Ned
Hemingway, entering Mary's t house,
either from curiosity or worthier mo
tives, with a stammered -apology, and
the-words: "Of course it ain't o' no
account but I thought ye might like to
keep it," handed Mary the will .in
which Sam had devised to her his pen
sion. As he did this, the mirthful
grocer cast down his eyes, and blushed
to the roots of his hair. Mary took the
little parchment read it auietlv. and
just the shadow of a smile played about
the beautiful tenderness of her lips.
Then she turned to the grocer, and un
consciously transfixed nim with her
clear, thoughtful, half inattentive gaze.
"I think Sam owed yon something,''
she said.
'Oh, no. no," stammered the grocer.
"That's airright The boys '11 see to
that"
"I should prefer to hare you give me
the biH," Mary said; and still tranfixed
by that courteously compelling gaze, the
abashed and reluctant grocer complied.
Mary keeps the will in which Sam
gave her his pension, with a lock of hair
that was always golden and boyish, and
the greenjcovered spell ing-bOok.f Some
times in the pauses of her toil she .can
smile her tender smile over these, she
can weep blessed tears over them.
But if any one should say that hers
had been a famished heart famished
for all the joyful possibilities, the wife
hood, the motherhood, that might have
been the thought would pale before
the tranquil glory of her eyes; There
has come to the. life of this lone watcher
on the mountain a fullness such as few
may know. The autumn winds that
speak with their low wail of death to
the dwellers in the valley land below.
Drug to her, clearer sense sweet
ages of home. Harper's Magazine.
On October 18 the Crown Prince of
Germany attained his fiftieth year. The
full name and title of Germany' siut
ure Emperor are Field Marshal his Impe
rial and Boyai Highness Frederick Will
iam Nicholas German aad Prussian
Crown Prince. In spite of his high-sounding
appellation, however, it is shrewdly
suspected that his wife, eldesi daughter
of Queen Victoria, is the " better man"
of the ,two. The Crown Prince. entered
the Prussian army jtf his' tenth birth
day. Bat it ir not only to his royal
birth that he owes his Field Marshal
ship, for. by strict attention. tohis,mili
tary duties and -'th'e success, of the
troops under his eomhmj Wmanya
hard-fought field, he ha fairly earned
his title and rank, V '
The Gemlag' Farmer.
Many good people are distressing
themselves just now about the future of
agriculture in this part of the country.
Looking abroad for analogies and taking
counsel of their fears, the forecast they
make is gloomy enough. In England
within a few years farm lands have ter
ribly depreciated in value in many
criM to the Amount at flftv ner rvnt
and more bankruDtcrha3'beea- starinr
a large portion of the tenant-farmers of
the island in the face, ana the
in tne zace. ana the entire
fabric of English society, which rested
largely on landed proprietorship as a
basis, is threatened with disorganisa
tion, it is alleged that ctntaj freights,
which have brought our rich Western
lands into direct competition with Brit
ish farms in their home market, has
caused this ruin, and it is argud th.it
the same influence is dopressnig agri
cultural industry east of the Aueh i
nies in our own country, our less easily
tilled land being practically removed by
railroads 1,000 miles away from mirket
to the side of fertile prairie stretches,
so that in the unequal struggle the E ist
must go down. It is urged that our
farmers are generally complaining of
their lot and mourning for the good
old times forever gone. We are told
of mortgage foreclosures and home
steads sold, and finally it is questioned
whether as civilization advances the
farmer must not gradually sink in the
social scale to the level of the peasants
in the Old World.
Now the fact is that farmers to-day
get better price for their crops on the
whole than the did in the good old
day., and they can buy more with their
money. In casef, were farms are sold
by the sheriff cases not so numerous as
our prophets of evil imagine it will be
found that ventures outside of the farm
er's legitimate industry ventures
prompted by that speculative spirit en
gendered during the demoralizing irusli
and havoc of war times have been
largely responsible for these melancholy
failures. Nevertheless it must be ad
milted that there was more of what
passed for solid comforts in the free and
easy times of old than there is to day
throughout the farming community.
And there ought to be. Farmers dress
better, live in better houses and read
more than their fathers did. That their
wants are of a higher class and more
varied proves that they are rising above
the social plane where their fathers
were content to remain, iustead of sink
ing to the peasant level. They set out
upon the race of life at a swifter gait,
and in order to hold the pace they mnst
use brain as well as muscle, and brain
work is wearing work. The solid con
tort of the good old days was really
stolid comfort the sluggish satisfaction
of an animal with his stomach full. The
farmer nowadays who is content with
this drowsy existence will invariably be
left, for his children will demand and
recoive what other children have ; and
if the farm is managed on the slove.ijy
method employed by our grandfathers
that is, if it is allowed to run itself
it will not supply the necessities of mod
ern life.
In every community there can oe
found farmers who do more than subsist
on the products of their acres. They
prosper in business because they, con
duct their farms on business principles.
With the necessity of getting a more
productive increase from the soil coines
the necessity of more study aud more
knowledge. The time has come when
the close calculating of the mannfac'urer
must be applied to agricultural practice.
In the factory profits are made by sav
ing the small percentages of waste, by
adopting labor-saving contrivances, by
watching the markets, by making aa
much finished product and of as good a
quality as possible with a given amount
of raw material procured at the lowest
possible outlay. The manufacturer who
fails to keep abreast -of every improve
ment in method and skill is sure to fail,
and the time has come when the same
fate awaits the farmer. If he manufac
tures butter, he must run his cows,
which are his machinery, with the same
watchful and intelligent care whioh is
exercised by bis neighbor who conducts
a sugar refinery or a cotton mill. He
must see that his cows have a perfectly
balanced ration, with the properly
proportioned amounts of protein, starch
and fat. He must get his rations at the
cheapest possible rate, and, following
the example of other manufacturers
who sell a finished product and'
buy a waste product, he will sell
his grain and buy cotton-seed meal,
brewers, grains, bran, and other
wastes of manufacture to make his fin
ished butter product He will not strive
to make more butter than his neighbor
nnless he can prove that the extra pound,
can be pro Stably made. He will make'
special study of the subjects connected
with the particular branch of agriculture
which he practices, and he will supple
ment his own experience by the teach
ings of recognized aathonties, and he
will make use of every assistance whioh
can be rendered by such accurate ex
periments as are conducted and record
ed at our best Agricultural Experiment
Stations. In other words, he will
not be content to remain a mere
laborer, but he will assume his true po
sition as the 'Administrative head of a
complicated but intelligently construct
ed and well-ordered system.
Farming of this kind will pay, to-day
and in the future. It will pay not only
in the narrow pecuniary sense, but it
will grow a crop of better men. The
.Coming Farmer who survives the fierce
struggle of close competition will devel
op out of the necessities of his surround
ings into a broader-minded man than
his predecessor. A good deal of pleas
ant flattery has been written about the
ennobling influence of agriculture. No
employment is ennobling which does
not require brains, and it Is not a mis
fortune that from this time forward the
farmer who succeeds must study and
think and have a 'trained mind and a
sound body. H. T. Tribune.
Dress ef Infants.
Dr. Mercy B. Jackson says: "The
special ewl of whichtl speak is the long
skirts, dresses and cloaks which are now
the fashion for babies. I feel the deep
est commiseration for a delicate child
that has hung upon its tender body a
flannel skirt a yard long,, and over that
a cotton skirt egually long, and over
that a dress to cover both, often weight
ed with heavy embroidery, tkl, if the
child is carried out, a double cloak long
er than all, so that the skirts reach
nearly to the floor as the infant is borne
in the nurse's arms. The longer the
clothes the more aristocratic the baby,
would seem to be the idea of the moth
er! Think of all this weight attached
around the waist of the child, and hang
incr over the little feet, pressing down
the toes and even forcing the feet out of
their natural position! How much of
deformity and suffering this fashion
produces none can tell; but that it is
a great discomfort to the baby every
thinking mother mast perceive. High
necks and long sleeves are now fashion
able for babies ; but how soon they may
be laid aside for low necks and short
sleeves can not be foreseen. That wifl
depend on the enlightenment of women.
To expose the delicate chest and, arms
of a young' child in our cold, changeable
elimate is often to bring on pneumonia,
and greatly to lessen the chances of life.
And should life ba spared, there will be
sleepless nights and anxious days for the
mother, as well as great suffering for
the'child."
A.fopl in high station is like a man
in a balloon. Everybody appears little
to him, and he appears little to erery
body. A canal-boat animal is neither black
or white, it's a mala-at-tow.
latnxe's kitchen.
Let us tike a sly glance in at Nature's
kitchen and- wateh her guests at their
meal. We shall not call it breakfast,
-dinner supper, or lunch, for there is no
.such formal division. .It is, a whole-day
".feast, and3a whole-night feast, 'too, for
that matter. The tables are always
spread, the guests always hungry; they
crowd in from high-ways and by-ways;
l"atways one ready
to take up . every
and spoon: 4or to
vacant knife, fork,
plahge in with fingers, teeth, and claws,
im lue irue pnuiiuvu iwaiua,
Nature does her cooking by sunlight
The great, glaring sun is her cook-stove,
and by its aid she concocts, from such
materials as' water, carbonic acid, 'and
ammonia, various palatable dishes, such
as sugar, bread, fruits, greens, and a
host of similar delicacies.
"There is your dinner," she says,
" make yourselves at home." And so
they do, without waiting to hear the
dinner-bell; rich and poor, high and
low; the dainty epicureans confining
themselves to the fruits and seeds; oth
ers feasting on the green leaves and the
grasses. But these are only the nobility,
thoee who sit above the salt. The com
monalty are more greedy and less par
ticular. . They bore in and saw in and
dig in. Leaf and 'flower and fruit,
branch and stem and root, each has its
epicures. Somo take a mean advantage
by laying their eggs in the heart of rosy
apple or luscious pear, so that their
babes may revel in a perfect mountain
of provender. There they lie, odd, little
white nrmt lilro tVtn nhon aikn uriahosl
tt'jrnrv.r - . -
mat Laice superior was ail tee-cream,
and he plunged" into its midst and con
demned to eat his way out
it has been xu trifling task to lift that
lofty tree or that broad field of waving
rain up out of the lifeless world, and
'ature is bound to make it pay its full
duty to tho world of life before it drops
baek again. It is her business to set go
ing all the variety and abundance of life
possible, and tree, grass, and gram
must furnish food for those high strung
creatures who can not, like these plants,
live on rock, dust, water, and air, but
must have their victuals ready cooked
and served.
Look at the throng of vegetarians!
Here is man, daintily pluckiug the
luscious fruits and juicy berries the
rich seeds and fat roots, and extract-!
ing sugars and wines, vinegars and
spices, to make his meal palatable.
1 onder are the hosts of the cloven-footed,
perfectly content to grow fai. upon leaves
and 'grasses. 'And here are armies o
humbler guests cherry-pecking birds,
honey-sucking bees', leaf-eating grubs,
that convert the waving banner of a
leafing tree into one great spider-web,
and then perchance go to sleep in ham-;
mocks of silks; carpenters and miners
who bore into the hard wood itself, and
leave behind them long, winding galleries
that look like the lanes and alleys of an
Old W6rid city; locusts, army-worms,
and potato-bugs that ruin man's har
vests; and millions of centipeds and
ntiUepeds, ticks, mites and gnats, that
suck the living juicies and fatten on the
palatable meat of the tree.
But all this is only the beginning of
the feast. What we call death is only,
in anotaer sense, the spring-tide of life.
The leaves fall and rot, the grass de
cays, but not to return to .the inorganic
world.' They are dished up as food' for,
new waving fields and flaunting leaves.
In the chemical balance of Nature part
of this nutriment bears down its side of
' the scale into the lifeless world, yielding
force to lift the nutriment in the other
scale back again into the circle of life.
And when the great tree dies, what
then? Its dead body is but a vast nur
sery of life. The long, lithe, twisting
and clinging parasites, that have drdnk
its blood while alive, are replaced by flat
lichens, umbrella-like fungi, and luxuri
ant mosses, which feast on its decaying
trunk; while borers, cbiselers, and
miners do their part in transforming
the great dead mass again into living
forms.
And when it drops into a heap of de
caying vegetable flesh, what new hosts
of life fatten upon it? And when the
earth takes back the ruins of the dead
giant beneath her generous breast, it is
not to keep them there. They have too
much vitality left for that. They climb
to the air and the sunlight again in
grasses and ferns and airy little plants.
They blossom into flowers, eye-gladdening,
honey-yielding, color-mad clumps
of bloom, from which not alone the bee
drinks sweets.
Thus is the" fallen tree tranformed into
multitudinous life, bursting above the
soil ia 'new generations of beauty, until
scarce a shred remains that does not
live again. And creeping rootlets 6t
trees hunt these last fragments under
ground, and crawling-, flexible worms
eagerly swallow the earth itself, aad di
gest from it the stray erambs of the old.
tree that are mixed throughout the .soil.
Charles Morris, in Popular Science,
Monthly.
Fhysieltsyef tne Wemaa Qnestlen.
Students of Physiology see that a!
final and coaclusive law can not yet be
drawn from differences in'brain-weigbts
and measurements, because of the pre
sent imperfection of such data. But
there is an even broader and better
foundation from which to build up a
conclusion, and I propose to stand on
this more general ground. In order,
however, that such physiological details
may have due influence apon the general
argument, I give a few best-established
facts. Prof. Bastian's work on the brain,
published in 1880, sums up his studies
of this organ as affected by sex. I eon
dense or quote from him the following
statements: " Difference of svx, in iS
innaence over capacity of skull, is often
E -eater than difference of race.
ifferenoe of cranial capacity between
the sexes increases with the develop
ment of the race, so that the male Euro
pean excels much more the 'female than
the negro the negress. The difference
in the. average capacity of the skalis of;
male aad female am ng modern farts-
ians.is almost double that between the
skulls of the male and female inhabitants
of ancient Egypt. The general
superiority, in absolute weight, of the
male over the female brain exists at
every period of development. In new
born infants, the brain was found by
Iledemann to weigh from 14 1-2 ounces
to 1J -2 ounces in the male, and from
10 ounces to 13 1-2 ounces in the' female.
The maximum weight of the adult' male
brain, in a series of 78 cases, was 65
ounces; the minimum weighV,S4 ounces.
The maximum weight of the adult
female brain, in a series of 191 cases,
was 56 ounces; the minimum, 31 ounces.
In a' large proportion the male brain
ranges between 46 and 53 ounces, and
the female between 41 and 47 ouuees.
A mean average weight of 49 1-2 ounces
may be deduced -for the-mala, mod of 44
ounces for the female brain." It is
further given, on the authority of Gra
tiolet and others, that the male braia
can not fall below 37 ounces without
involving idiocy; while the female may
fall to 32 ounces without such a result.
AH accepted authorities agree that
the average male braia exceeds the
average female brain in weight by. about
ten per cent. Prof. Thurnam also adds,
"The brain -weight of the male negro is
the same as that of the female Euro
pean." Mist'M. A. JJardaJccr, in ropt
ImrS
Science Monthly.
An Hnglish btuin&H circa' or sta'es
that between the middle ofi&st October
aad the opening of (ho present year 28,
000,000 American oyster were shipped
to England and consumed, and the cry
lor more.
The marrying: of a drunkard taatvv
him ia carrying economy too far. Better
let the young man he wasted. N.'Q.
Picayune.
SCIENCE A5D - UfnHJSlEI.
A school for raUroad officials' has
been established in Germany. Here
employees are instructed ia railroading
Housewives will be interested ,in a
new discovery. Instead of ironing
clothes with a, hot iron-on a cold table; ,
the garments wonld be better done up
by using a cold iron on1 a hot table.
A tincture of Calabar bean has been
found exceedingly-effleaokms inpreserv-
iog ,enujinoipgiuai .ana oiner, naxurai
history specimehs,from the destruction
caused by'mites. It can also be' used
with, advantage in keeping furs and oth
er Jrticles of dress from moths. A very
suudl quantity ft sufficient
"Chemical science has receutly suc
ceeded in extracting the coloring matter
'from human hair. Three coloring pig--metits'
are found yellow, red and
hlack-rthe various shades being pro
duced by mixture, it appears that in
pure golden hair there is only thayellow
pigment; in red hair the red "is mixed
with more or less yellow; while in dark
hair the. black is always mixed with yel
low and red even the blackest hair
containing as' much red pigment as the
very reddest the lighter colors being
overpowered by the black.
The results of soundings over the
bed of the Atlantic have mule clear, it
is believed, the existence through the
middle of the ocean, extending from
north to south, of a sunken ridge, often
less than 1,000 fathoms from the sur
face, while on either side the water has
a depth ef from 3,000 -to more than
3,450 fathoms ;, so that the elevation of
the ocean's 'bottom required to make
these depths' dry land would bring up
between them a mountain range from
9,000 to 15,000 feet in height. The
higher points of this sunken ridge now
form the islands of the Azores.
The English journals, in discussing
tae question of domestic poisons, sug
gest as a protection or remedy a law
prohibiting the use of arsenic in the
manufacture of any and all fabrics for
domestic purposes that is, in all those
processus which leave the arsenic in the
finished goods. It appears that the
-.rade interests involved in this practice
have been subjected to scientific investi- 1
gatian, ana tho- alleged advantages in
employment of arsenic for wall'papers,
eve., are shown to be fox 4he most part
imaginary. Amonsf the paper stainers
the use of arsenical pigments is being
Aoandoned, and in other industries also
they are much less resorted to -than for
merly. But, notwithstanding this, and
the well-known fact that two or three
grains of. , the article will destroy life,
the production of arsenic in England
last year was nearly 5,000 tons.
A recent writer on the phenomena of
friction asserts that a large portion of
the friction 'of engines is the result of
tight cylinder.packing, and that in set
ting out packing it should be only tight
enough to keep the steam from passing.
1 this. being, also beat done 'by .degrees,'
setting out the rings a little, then block
ing the crosshead, and testing by allow
ing ateamin the' drank end of the cylin
der. Waen.no steam passes, the rings
are tight enough. In cylinders that
have run forsome time it is impossible
to make a 'piston tight withoutreboring.
Care is also requisite, in making a com
pletcrevolution of the engine by hand,
after setting out the rings, to see that
the packing does not stick in any of the
smaller portions of the cylinder. Again
an engine that requires constant lubri
cations in the cylinder to prevent squeak
ing needs attention, as generally the
rings will be found too tight or the cylin
der out of line.
pith and pourr.
Always judge a man by his depth.
instead of his length. Detroit Free
Press.
Many a man owes his success in life
to the hisses of his enemies, instead of
the plaudits of his friends. Whitehall
1 Times.
The man who has all knowledge at
his fingers1 ends should not bite hfc
nails ; he might bite off more than he
could conveniently chew. Boston Tran
script. "The truth always pays in the
end" is an old saying, and that is the
reason, probably, why there is so. little
of it told at the beginning of any busi
ness transaction. Somerville Journal
A gentleman went into a Pearl
street dry-goods store yesterday, aati
asked for ten yards of' "naked cam
brio." The yonng lady blushed and
-aid: I gness you mean undressed
jaiam-io." "Oh, yes; that's itiV
Albany Argus. (
This Maa is very Bust." He Is pushed
for time. He looks as if he Had If osjsj
on his hands than he could accomplish.
We feel Sorry for him. He has mt ban
portant Engagement to Keep, and'aerof
Hurrying up Matter to Meet it. lie it
to be hung at Noon'to-morrow. Stover!
Tribune Printer. . ' ".j
Brooklyn man owns thirty deflJ
We didn't suppose that so much
"!
ing poverty could be centered, in. one
man in that City of Churches. Thela-t
dividual who owns five dogs is generally
an object of charity. What must W the
destitution of the man who owes thirty?
Norristown Herald. S
"Brntus. havnotme!" remarked. r
Cassius, when Brutus, who was m the
cukw BBii-iiicaaiiig uuo, was uuut WJ
anoint his customer's face with the aro
matic bay rum. This is important,
showing, as it does, that the barber of
classic days followed the same course as
does his successor of the present time.
Xew Haven.Registcr.
-
A Jfeslpa Ceatedy ef Errors.
. , w Z5' . .
The, talk of the town Ls an elopement
that croyed to be a "Comedy of Errors."
A rich old' Creole opposed the marriage
of his- only daughter with a poor artist.
UnTemng tlyre was a carriage drawn -cautiously
up to the corner of the grand
boulevard. Esplanade There was an,
air of mystery in its movements. The!
drivel: looked around, and then, appar
ently from some signal, fixed -his. eyes at
the window of a mansion very little dis
tant from7 his halting-place. A female,
cloaked and' veiled, threw open the case
ment, at the same moment bidding the
driver to advance. He did so, and
when the carriage stood immediately at
the door, beneath the lighted window, a
;aU and handsome man jumped out of
the vehicle and entered the house.
Shortly after this two cloaked figures
passed hurriedly down the steps of the
principal entrance and hastily entered
the carriage, closed' the door, and re
quested the driver to "speed like light
ning." An old gentleman, the proprie
tor of the mansion and the father of the
artist's inamorata, was a spectator of
the whole affair, and, gliding softly
from a private door, mounted the rum
ble of the carriage and found himself
whirled on the road to Hilneburg, the
lake port of the Mobile packet.
The old fclbw had caught them. The
lovers were in the carriage, but he was
on the box. On rattled the carriage ia
the steamboat landing. Down jumped
the father and opened the door. What
did he see? Could it be! Yes, it was
his own hostler and his daughter's maid !
The affrighted servants descended from
the carriage, aad 'in an agony which
was so exouisitly comic that the disap
pointed paterfamilias could not refrain
from smiling, 'fell on their knees and
begged forgiveness. The prevailing
mania for -elopement had seised them.
Seeing a carriage before the door, and
being under orders from the millionaira
to watch the artist's movements, "they
thooght'to thwart the elepemant of theft
mistress by Ming-the artist's carriage
fer their own. Meanwhile the artist aad
the lady were aeing married at the
aoase of a friend. 2f. 0: iMUr m
mUb Omtrisr-JoummL
KENDALLS
r i a
r .-
IT CtlRl'S SPAVJXg,
splint.-," J li'rS'nr
JHESfiUKIIStrAXJV
ISHES AM) tRjj
JluVESTHI. itC.Nili
WITHOUT BLlSTtfkl1
aJSg.
l .
KBaanmE?
aVcm' nmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsnw "
tTrSSBaanBBnTGBsmmw
KENDALL'S SPAVIN CUKI!
i
It" has curi-d'thnuanw of" cases and'is destined to cure millions and millions more.
SND ALL'S SPAVIN CEB!
Is the only iuuithncu ti iioxm. and to show what this remedy will do we give hore
as aranideoi ;tcs. i-ured bv itja statement which was
tjOIVJ N UNDER OATH.
r Whom it 'May Concurn.ln the
, ' year lJT." 1 treated with u Kendall's
, !
(. fcinviii Cure." a bone spavin of several
mum hi' srrowt, neaiJy half as larj:e as
a lieu ;-, and completely stopped tlie' V ' - "
rauii-ness and removed the enlargement. i ,.
1 have worked the horse eversiiu-e ery
. hard, and he never has heeu lame, nor
could I ever see any ditit fence in the
size of the hock joints since I treated - ' '
him with "Kendalls Spavin Cine."' ,
It. A. (iaixkm-
Ml 1
;
, EuoshurgU v li, vt.. rvi,. s,, '7!.
Sworn and subscribed to hclore me
this'iothday orFeb., a. D. 1S7!.
John G. Jknnk.
Justice of Peace.
KBN ALL'S SPAVIN CURI:
ON HUMAN JLESH .it has been ascertained hi) repeated trials to be.
the very best liniment ever usedor any deep seated 'pain of long standing
or of short duration. Aho for CO HNS, HUN IONS. FHOST-HITES
or any bruise, cut or lameness Some are afraid to nse it on human flesh
simply because it is a horse medicine, but you should remember that what
is good for HE 'AST is good for MAN, and we know from Exiterience
that "KEN HALLS SVAVJN CUHE" can be vsed on a child 1 year
old with perfect safety. Its Effects arc wonderful on human Jlesh and it
does not blister of make a sore. Try it and be convinced.
KENDALL'S SPAVIN GffREj
Read below of its wonderful effects a,a liniment for the humin family.
w . ,- . " IfK.MATtTK.MKsj.OUia, August "20, lb80.
if .J, KKNdai.i. & Co., liK.vrs: I am so overjoyed in view of the result of an ari
njicatioii of jour Kendall's Spavin Cure that 1 fval that I ought for Uumsnltles'
sake publish It to the world, ' About thirty-live year a;o while riding a youu"
ugly botv I, was injured in one qf, my testicle;., ard frninth.it time to' three weeks
ago a .-low but constant enlargement has been the result, givin- nma irreat amount
or trouble, alniottentireHt prexentinfr me from horsebirfc ridfnu'. which was my
usual way of traveling. 1 miw :i notice of your KemlriN Spaviu Cure, never once
thought of ft foranythmg except for horsea, but after receiving the medicine and
reading over what it was good for, feeling terrihlv exercised nb'mtt mr dirhcultr for
I had consulted many physicians and none gave me anv speciin-but'when it could
be endured no longer to remove it ith the knife. I applied tour KendallN Spavin
Curt- as an exnexnnent, aud it was so pairful iu its application that I concluded
not to repeat it and thought no more al. ut it until near a week, and I.) and bchuld
one-half the size was gone, with joy 1 could scarcely believe it; I imuiediatelv ip
plieditoverasjain.andli.tve made in all about yi doen applications ranning'orer
a space of two weeks and the terrible enlargement is almost gone. In view tifwhich
1 cannot express niy feelings or delight. It has been a God send" to me. mav he
send to others.witu like troubles, Jouv Kick
Pastor of Hematite Congregational Church.
1 S. You are at 'liberty to put this in any ha"pe vou mav please. I am not
ashamed to ha e my name under, over or by the side of it.
KENDALL'S SPAYXN CURE!
Kendall's Spavin Cure is sure in its ejects, mild in its action as it docs not
blmter, yet it Is penetrating and powerful to reach anv deep seated pun or to re
move any hony growth or auy other enlargement if used fur several days such as
spavins, splints, tallou. sprains, swelling, anv lain.- s .npl all enlargements or
the joints or limbs, or rheumatism in man and fur anv purpose rur which a liniment
is u.-ed Tor mau or Jaeast. It is now know u to be the best liuim -nt Tor m m ever used
acting mild yet certain in its effects. It is used in full strength w ith perfect af.-tv
at all seasons of the year.
Send address for Illustrated Circular, which we think gives positive proof, of its
virtues. No remedy h is met with sit -h iimpi tllli d su -,-,, to our know led-e for
beastas well as man. Price $1 per bottle, or si.v -bottle-, for .". "
. . , , , ALL DRUGGISTS have it or can get it for you,
or it will be sent to any address on receipt of pn-t . b the propnctois,
48 Dr. B. J. KENDALL & CO, Euoaburg Falls, Vermont.
WHEN YOU TRAVEL
l
ALWAYS TAKfc THE
B..& M. R. R.
Examine map and time tables eirefully
It will be H'fii that thi line nmnerts
with C. 15. x Q. It. It.; in f.i.-t thej
are under one management,
and taken together. form
what is called
Shortest and Quickest Line to
ST. UE. PEBBIA.
DES MOINES, ROCK ISLAND,
And Especially to
IX
all Poimts
IOWA, WISCONSIN, INDIANA,
ILLINOIS, MICHIGAN, OHIO.
- PRINCIPAL AIlV.AKT.AGK3 ARK
Through coaches from destination on C.
J). St Q. R. B. No transfers; change!
from C. U. & Q. K. K. to connect-.
ing lines all made in -.
Union Dupots.
THE0UGH TICKETS
V.
-AT-
flCKKTEST RAXES
CAN. UK HAD
Upm application at any station on the
road. Agents are also prepared to check
b.iggage through; give all information as
to rates, routes, time connections, et,
and to secure sleeping- car accomoda
tions. t"'
This
company" is engaged on an exten
tion whidh will open a
M LINE TO DENVER
And all poiqts in Colorado. This ex
tention will be completed and ready for
business in a ;few months, and the pub
lic can then cnj'oj .all the advantages of
s. thrnin'h lini 1ntivtn f ).m - ..nfl
.Cfikagn,.all under one management,
t . I. . EHMtlM.
Gen'I T'k't A'gt,
J3y Omaha, Shu.
TUTT'S
PILLS
INDORSED BY
physicians; cleriymeh, and
the afflicted everywhere.
THE. GREATEST MEDICAL
TRIUMPH OF THE AGE.
SYMPTOMS OF A
TORPID LIVER.
lose of appitlte,lfauaea.b6wel3 costive.
fain 1 thHaad."witb a. daU sensation
the back part. Pam under the shoulder
blade. Oln after eating, with a dUin
cIlaatioBito aaarUan. r body orxnlnd
Irritability of tgmpar.Low spirits. Loss
efaeatetT.wjrbareeHBgof bariacnec
Sjfted soma dntyTweariisaa, Piaainwa.
KnttetGy of the Heart, Dota before the
t . x4jpwBaao.MssnaasM. Baatieas-
at nltfat. hniy colored ferine.
irnBBWAXBTVQfAlEinrHSEDZD,
lEBlOUSDiSEaSaWLLSOeitBt DEVELOPED.
1UJLTS Hill ax aaeiaily adapted to
saeh eaaa,oae deaa esTscta sneb a change
f foeUae as to sstoalsh the arer.
TJnyMprM UMAysHr.anlamithe
body to Take ma rimfc, thaa tlw c5in U
:anTbyuiirTMteacslaon tb
Prices
tSMBI
cents:'
sassnaiAs!
harepn
TUTT'S HAIR DYE.
asur aunt or Wanataaa t baaaed to a Omswt
I Of this DTK. It
IasUataaeotHly.
turn on tecvipl of Si.
Owlea. 3S Murray St.. Raw York.
0 Br. iliis auaciL r TaiM iimiiM 4
BMJNGTON
ROUTE
WW mmmm mm n nana qw ea I
SPAVIN CURE!
KORMAXITISNOW
K.OWXT CKUXK
K THE BEST IF
NOT THE BEST
I.IXIMEKT EVER
DISCOVERED.
1870.
1882.
THK
almtfbus journal
Is conducted as a
FAMILY NEWSPAPER,
Devoted to the best mutual inter
ests of its readers and its publinh
ers. Published at Columbus, Platte
county, the centre of the agricul
tural portion ofNebraska.it in read
by hundreds or people east whoaru
looking towards Nebraska as their
fnture home. Its subscribers in
Nebraska are the staunch, solid
portion of the community, as is
evidenced by the fact that the
Journal has never contained 'a
"duu" against them, and by the
other fact that
ADVERTISING
In its columns always brings Its
reward. Business is business, and
those who with to reach the nolld
people of Central Nebraska will
And the columns of the Journal, a
splendid medium.
JOB WORK
Of all kinds neatly and uickly
done, at fair prices. This species
of printing is nearly always want
ed in a hurry, and, knowing th'Is
fact, we have so provided for it
that we can furnish envelopes, let
ter heads, bill beads, circulars,
posters, etc., etc, on very short
notice, and promptly on time as
wc promise.
SUBSCRIPTION.
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1 copy per annum $200
" Six month 100 .
" Three months, . . SO' "
Siu;;lp copy sent to anv address
in the United States for Sets,,
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EVERYBODY:
Can now afford
A CHICAGO DAILY.
THE
CHICAGO HERALD,
All the News evcrj day on four large
papesof seven columns each. The Hon.
Frank W. Palmer n'ostmattcr of Chi
cago), Editor-in-Chief. A Republican.
Dailv for
$5 per Year,
Three
mouths, $1..Y). One
trial .10 cents.
mouth on
CHICAGO
"WEEKLY HERALD"
Acknowledged by everybody who hasi
read it to e the best eight-p.ie paper
ever-published, at the low price of ' -
II PER YEAR,
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Contains correct market reports, all
the news, and general reading interest-
iuir to the farmer and his
family. Special,
clubs. Sample
terms to agents and
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