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About The Columbus journal. (Columbus, Neb.) 1874-1911 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 20, 1882)
THE JOURNAL. WEDNESDAY. SEPT. 13. l&SL " I C:lsctu. Set., i iscsai ! clu: ri'.ier. sonnmv. I would not wcop because the roses die. I do not murmur whtjn the red leaves rail; But when blue bcaf jjoe mouutiutf to the sky, 1 weep ubove my soup, and that is all. I have not wept, when wintry bla.su have roared. Because the summer flowers wore in the snow; But when wood sella nine dollar; for a cord, I wept for that; I would not have It sj. I would not weep, because the birds of sprit iff. With autumn's leaves and summer's flower's are lied; I onlv -nb because I played a khuc. After the other man an ace had led. For birds, and leaves, and buds, I do not weep. Foolish the he.trt that for such trifles " hol lers;" t , I do nut mourn for 'liius supremely cheap. My human gnet mounts upward into dollars. UuiiuuUm Hnwk-Eye. BITTER-SWEET. A symphony of sound and light and scent. A voice of many birds twittering delicately to each other from newly-built nests, amid boughs that swayed to and fro in the wind, and shook their latest buds into leaf and blossom. Into the woodland from far below came a mur mur of waves trailing on a shingly beach, and mingling with this murmur, the talk and laughter of the fishermen mellowed by distance. Right down through the sloping woodland a brooklet leaped tink ling and gurgling to the sea. The dim fragrance and dappled lights and pleasant sounds of the day made a three-fold joy to a young girl who stood beneath the trees in the April noon. She stood on a part of the slope whence the trees had drawn back a little, and the light fell about her just beyond the verge of the shadow. Round her feet were dead leaves aud living dowers, and soft green mosses full of the sweet rain that hail fallen all the previous night. With one hand she shaded her eyes, the other was uplifted to tend back a'branch which had barred the open space. Her hair was blown in a brown cloud about her face, and her hazel eyes shone with a serious joy beneath the shading hand. For the" first time in her life she was tasting that singular gladness which comes to mind and body, when alone with nature in spring, after a long ill ness. To this full content of hers, all the long hours of fevered tossing to and fro. followed by tedious weeks ot conva lescence, were but a background. And now into her loneliness there came another human presence a young man. carelessly whistling, treadinggayly ver iiiois and llowers till he reached the rivulet, and paused on the further side, looking at the tall, slim figure in the soft gray gown, crowned by the brown hair and" wistful face. Just one moment, and he turned off a little higher up and sprang across the stream. Only one look, and there might have been no sec ond; their lives might have glided apart forever, but for an accident or what we call :m:iocident; which is really a strong link in many a chain of life. As his foot touched the bank he slipped on the damp earth, spraining his ankle in the fail. He drew 'himself into a sitting posture and lea'ned against a tree, faint with pain. The young girl came quickly toward him. "1 will run and get help," she said, and meeting his graterul look for a moment, went quickly along the jmtli that led toward Cloverleigh. the village where she ami her father were stainr At a turnitijc she met a tall scholarly looking man. t "1 was lo.iking for you, Margaret. Are you wise to go bareheaded, niy child?" he said, anxiously. "My hat fell into the brook, aud it is so mild. But. oh! papa, there is a gen tleman hurt down there. He ha sprained his ankle and cannot walk." And she waved her hand toward the woods below. They found him faint and white: but he mide light of his suffering as thev helped him through the fringe ot ajile and near trees to his lousrinjr in Cloverleigh. ii. Most of our lives are Bitter-Sweet; but if there is one period in it when the bit ter aud sweet are superlatives, it is when love takes possession of soul and bod, as instruments wt;reon to play his mighty preludes. Marjpirot Towusend had lived alone almost all her life, with her father, a quiet student, loving but his daughter ami his hitoks. and so her life was full ol association-, but not of friends. None of the hlo-mi had been worn oil" her sou' by that plavitig at love called flirtation. She had read, with a certain solemnity. soiiii' old books wherein mention was made of men who had died and done other things for 1ovj: and she may have ha 1 dreams on the subject, but filmy anil shiftiiiiT as dreams generally am. Her fa her had taught her Greek, and po "she chanced upon the poets," and their thoughts had given flavor to he. r p own. Some time before this had come illness: it had seemed at one moment as if she mu-t ero-s the narrow !oimd of time into the wide spaces of eternity: but slowly death had let go his hold, and she was well enough now to enjoy the change to the quaint Devonshire li-.hing village, perched in the rift of a headland Hinong ancestral trees anil bower of ash and apple aud pear. It is unique, this v'Hage, with its hun dred step- le.nl. ng down to the quay and the -hingh shore. . The houses rise one ntxive the other, aud the quaint rooms in tl.em are let in ;tnmer to visitors with good walking p.iwers. Its only inti is a temple of brie a-brae. and. in summer, i- erowd"d with pilgrims visiting one of the shrines of nature. In this semies tcred solitude the father and daughter aud Dr. John Knderby were at present the only strangers, and the young doc tor. after two or three days, limped into Margaret's sunlit sitting-room, into which the light filtered through a net work of budding apple boughs. Here he would sit and watch Margaret at work, or li-ton to her as she read some Old World book to her father, her fresh young voice eontm-ting with the oft times crabbed style, and as he thu watched her she grew inexpressibly pleasant to him. Pleasant, and that was all. But to Margaret? Without on" word of warning, had come the crowning ffaecti'n: of her life. "Heaven lies a'anit us in our infan-v." then fades away. Eut once more it lies alout the man and woman in the mellow time of youth with a lientity that baby eyes nevoryct beheld and earth borrows of this heavenly light. Did ever such s mlight p:is through th- roy tiiin of the apple blossoms that n.-s'Jed against the wall and made a bower before Margaret's window? And us for the blue bay gleaming below -was it really so cruel after all? Did so many husbands and fathers and sons lie tossing in its depths. It looked so caress ing. washing the feet of the red cliff where the greenery crept down to meet it John was free to come and go as he liked in the blossom-screened room, hold ing learned converse with Mr. Town send, meeting his daughter in the woods, now fully leafed, sometimes helping her over the rocks in search of anemones. On fine evenings the three would sit on the little semi-circular pier that inclosed the "quay pule" and watch the sunset fading and the darkness nestling down among the wooded headlands, and the great evening star suddenly appearing in the blue above the paling primrose that touched the water. After that the iky would swiftly fill with stars, and the moon would apring into the airy silence, ad her light would penetrate skv and tea and cliff-hung village, the light would appear one by one in the windows above, and they would climb homeward. All this fed the wurni friendliness Up J!t for her, which is often mistaken tor love. The fnurratiec of her life falod his imagination, and he determined to make her his wife. But of that delicious agony, that glorious fear that makes pallid the face of the Wer, the void in the life that must be filled by the pres ence of a beloved woman what did he know? Nothing. Bis nature was as yet cold, her-: war all aglow. She was one of those women, D&ssion&te. vet sweet and pure, with sensitive bodies that t . auiver with pain at any strong emotion. If she had never j seen him again, it is improbable that she I would ever have cared for another; per haps she would have waited in eternity for the sequence of that first glance of his. They lingered on till the honeysuckle woedthc meadow-sweet 5u the deep lane' above the village, aud the young summer was in its beauty. Then there came a moment when, the two being alone in the woodland path overhanging the sea. John asked Margaret to be his wife. If .r..... fUn. cii'imlacl titiw. n( till ifll'Hinmi. just before sunset, when ie day has lost I its wea-iness and the sky is calm, and the auu ,:i:ie is dimmed by a soft haze. I . Mr. Townsend had left them in order j to write a letter which he had forgotten, j and the others had sauntered toward the village in dreamy silence. Then she be- I came aware that he was asking her to be his wife, telling her that she was the sweetest woman he had ever Siian. Whence then her sudden shrinking from him. as in fear? "I am not good enough," she cried. She was afraid of her joy, for she was a timid woman, but in the midst of his wooing he was vexed at her humility, not understanding it, for he was only offering her a scanty armful of first fruits, aud she was returning him the full harvest of her soul, though she did not know its value. He drew her to him and kissed the brown head and laid it on his breast She began to cry sht had been so greed' of joy lately, and here was its perfection! And he? well, it was the sweetest hour he had ever passed in his life. This girl, with her simple dress and manner, and her serious brown eyes aud undertone of joy fulness about her, satis fied the more spiritual side of his nature. And yet she was not the ideal of his past, which ideal had been compounded of soft-voiced Cordelia, passionate Ju liet, bright Rosalind, witty Beatrice, and dear Desderaona in fact, of all the sweets of many natures compacted into one. She was not his heroine, but he was her hero, aud her gladness inclined to ward sadness; for a true woman sees herself valueless at the moment she be lieves that the "man of men" sees in her a precious jewel. "Are you sorry?" he asked, half jest ingly. "Sorry!" she said, and, with a frank vet coy gesture, she nestled close to his heart m. Windborongh is a country town, seat ed in the midst of a smiling plain which stretches to a line of low wooded hills on the north, ami loses itself in the far horizon in every other direction. It is a sleepy town, full of old houses and old traditions, and prides itself rather on its ruius tliau on its famous woolen manufac ture. It is built in the form of a cross indeed, its main street is called Cross gate. In one of the arms of the cross tlie one toward Woodleigh, with its fa mous old castle arc the best houses, in which the smaller gentry aud the profes sional men live. At the end of the Woodleigh road was Dr. Enderby's house, large and old-fashioned; and hither he brought his wife Margaret not long after their first meet-in-T in the Cloverleigh woods. It was a clumge from the intense quiet of her girl hood to a large circle of friends, and a few secret enemies. But she, was John's wife, and her sweet gayety tilled his house with sunshine; and she shaped herself a home in all gladness. The old red-brick house hafl pleasant rooms, tilled with comfortable furniture, softly cushioned chairs, and low tables, and plenty of llowers; there were no dingy looking dados, no sad-looking disclored blossoms worked on kitchen towels. As Margaret was not aesthetic, she preferred cheerful chintz and soft velvet. Her own sanctum was a small room overlooking the garden, and furnished with soft shades of green. There were oak shelves filled with her favorite books, a writing-table, aud a few low chairs. At the window were white lace curtains, and on the mantelpiece a jar of Venetian glass that looked like a fragment of sun set. Near the window was a stand of (lowers that varied according to the sea sons. In spring there were primroses and violets even a few tulips; in sum mer roses and mignonette; in autumn and winter ferns and mosses, with per haps a red geranium to light them up. Outside in the garden, was a great elm overhanging the lawn, and the llower- beds were as old-fashioned as the house. In this room of Margaret's, John En- derby loved to rest in his intervals ol leisure, watching his wife with an inter est and a strange timidity that grew deeper day by day. Poor Margaret felt him further from her. and a shadow fell across her life that the birth of her little son could not wholly chase away. When the child was about nine months old it happened that she was often alone, for it was an unhealthy autumn, and Dr. En derby's services were in great requisition, not only among the rich, but alsoanvu g the poor forne was gentle as well v.i skillful. Now and then he would come in and resume his old habit of silently watching and listening to her talk about little Jack. How she loved that child' wnat sweet music ins tiny lingers uis coursed on that mother's heart-strings! One afternoon her husband came in :i she was sitting with the child on hei knee a bright, fair-haired, brown-eyed boy, very nke his father. The baby stretched" out his dimpled arms to his father, then with a child's mischief with drew them, and hid his face on his moth er's bosom with a cooing laugh. She bent her head down on the fluffy curls, aud caught his little bare feet in her hand (he had pulled off his shoes and socks, the tiny rogue!) and she kissed the rosy toes with lovely mother worship. "Look, John." she said; "isn't he the most wonderfully sweet child, this prec ious baly? What should we do without him? She was flushed and laughing, arm? and heart full too; but a sharp pang flasheiLthrough him. He answered, quietly. "Yes. he is a fine boy for his age.' and, bending down, kissed him; but he went away after that without further speech. It often .rtj,jeiieu? so now. ml Margaret could not divine the cause; so she was hurt, aud turned more and more to the baby for comfort On this occasion the doctor went to his tudy, locked the door and sat down to wrestle with himself, also to take stock of his forces for that wrestling. Terrible and sweet revelation to the man! He had. as the phrase goes, fall en in love fortunately with his wife. This, then, wss the meaning of his si lence, his jealousy, of the tearing away of his old pleasant friendliness toward her. This love of his w:is no llaine that would Hash and die out, but the strong white heat, the very soul of the heavenly fire. He remembere'd now how she had said, "I am not worthy." Now he understood she had loved him at that time how far away it seemed with the whole force of her being; and he well, with self depreciation and some well-deserved self-blame, he saw his blindness and the terrible risk he had ruu. He wanted only hl wife; his Margaret; but what if he, Margaret's husband, had never felt I this delight in her? Might he not have. 5 met some other woman for the sake oi whom lie would possibly have been tempted to repent his marriage? He was a good man. upright and true: but he had often played at love before his marriage, "ere life-time and love time were one," and he was being ushed now, for he doubted whether her ove had not declined into that friendli ness which he had given her before, and she was absorbed in the child. Was she, then, one of those women in whom the instinct of motherhood is stronger than all other? He worshiped her now with the full sacred passion of his manhood, and was his own child to come between, aud shut him away from her? She would be always sweetly du tiful, he knew that but duty, wifelv duty! A man is nothing if he does not want more than that; and what was his life to be if she and the child dwelt atuirt in a little paradise of their own? He was jealous of his own child. At this point the man threw himself on his knees ami finished his conflict there, aud it was well for him that he did so. IV. The very names of Eliphaz tlu Tema nite, ami I.ildad theShuhite, audZophar the Naamathitc, carry us back in thrr.ight to the world's dawn; but their modern antitypes are to be found everywhere; in t he fullest perfection among women, sad to ay, and more perceptible in a country town than in a city. And wheu poor Job feminine Job es peciallyis sitting in the ashes of deso lotion, then do they, softly seated on the cushion of self-righteousness, proceed to comment disparagingly on the sufferer's past behavior. Now, Eliphaz & Co. were not want ing in Win lhorough society, and in the cas. of John and Margaret soon per ceived "the rift in the lute;" and being low, nie-in souls, they set to work to find a low. mean cause for it, having no idea of the higher love between man and woman. They were three middle-aged spin sters, who had failed to euter the holy estate of matrimony in spite of an earn est desire to do so. When the roses of youth and riches were no longer for "them they would fain have culled the chrysanthemums of life's autumn; but, alas! even those sad and scentless llow ers were denied them. So these three had been soured, or rather were un loved through a certain sourness of nature which the masculine portion of mankind had sagaci ty enough to perceive and to avoid. Miss Moss. Miss Brown and Miss Jones were friends, and much of the mischief iu Windborongh might be traced to them. For instance had they not dis covered Mr. Blight the curate's shame ful flirtation with little Miss Wilson? and here was Dr. Euderbv taking to his old llirtin" ways again! If he had married a sensible, intellectual person, she might have cured him by carefully looking after him; but now his attending the meetings of the Book Club without his wife, and walking home with little Miss Fry and her IJmiker mother, boded no -ood. So said they, shaking their heads. This was after morning service on Sun day, and th -y resolved that on Monday morning, while the Doctor was away on Ills rounds, they would call and enlight en his wi'e. -It will do her good, poor thing," they remarked. So the three cam on Monday morn ing, and after a few commonplaces. Miss Moss, who was a faded beauty, ami therefore the bitterest, begin. "Now. my dear Mrs. Knderby. we can see that you are suffering, poor dear, aud no wonder!" Margaret looked at them bewildered. "1 am quite well, she said. "But about the Doctor, my dear; we have known him so long and understand his ways. If you had been a little more experienced you would have looked bet ter after your husband." "But he is not ill." answered the wife, still more bewildered. "Not in body," remarked Miss Brown, wit ha. significant smile; "but in mind, we mean; lie pays great attention to the Frys next door. yo:i know." ' And .Miss Fry is very pretty," added Miss Jones. If she had not been so angry Margaret would have laughed; John had walked home with their neighbors twice, and she was very fond of them. John might ! not love her; that she had found out. she thought; but she knew him to be the very soul of honor. She was generally so quiet that when her anger bla.ed out they were startled. " Will you be so good as to leave mv husband's affais-s alone!" she said. " If you wish to be wicked there is no need to show such bad taste as to come here ami endeavor to do harm." And then they, feeling that for once they had been vanquished, quickly took i heir departure. But Their words had left a sting behind them. Was it so visible, then, even to these gossips, the f ict she had fouud out some time ago, namely, that she was not to him all that he was to her? When she had discovered it she bad determined to tike thankfully what he could give; but, alas! beloved. "who will be grateful for a fow crumbs, seeing a full meal beyond? The hunger of the soul cannot be stilled; it cries out for food. Well, she tried not to blame him; he had mistaken his feel ing for her, anil w:is tired of her; but then' was her baby. She never told her husband of that visit, though she believed he regretted his marriage: she only clung to the child such a frail little reed to lean upon. And one davit broke. It was a Sun lay one of those sweet days in the late autumn which nature saves out of the summer. The trees had lost their leaves, and the .sunshine showed all their delicate irregularity t!:eir beauty of mere form, which had been hid len by the foliage. The golden asters and red gjniuiums still brightened the sheltered garden. A ball was lying on the frosty grass, but the tiny lingers that had played with it would never touch it more for Baby Jack was going fast to a land in which. let us not say, there are no toys for the angel children. You remember Martin Luther's letter to his 1k Hans, in which he tells him ot a lovely" Paradise, with golden toys, whips, aud drums and childish delights. This little child was dying of croup. His mother could only hold the little form on her knee, while John knelt be side her trying useless remedies to com fort her. At last he stood still, looking down sorrowfully at the signs of ebbing life. Suddenly he knelt and touched the little clenched hand with his lips, and heavy tears plashed down upon it his dear little boy: it was hard! Margaret bent forward. "You do love him. John!" She wxs jealous for him that, he should have his full sharj of love before he went. John understood, and his look answered her. What instinct had made her ask? The fluttering breath grew shorter and shorter; it vas near the end now. and little Jack opened his eyes and said, for the first and last time, quite clearly: "Mamma." That was all she was to have the one word, and the angels would have the rest. Terrible, awfully mysterious death had borne away the spirit of the babe, left only the little body cold and white as a snow-wreath; but a smile hovered on the tiny face. At that moment the bells rang out for morning service, tilling the clear air with their solemn merriment. "And the bells of th city rang again," said John, softly. Margaret could weep then, aud the nurse took the dead child from her arms and went softly out, shutting the door. V. So John eoraforted his wife, but her grief grew silent She wxs gentle to him, but her thoughts were with the dead child. She told herself that it was better that he should be with the angels. ana he wo.ilil sing nymus, and perhaps play in the golden streets; but .she had a hurt feeling, for he wo.ild never be her own babv again. Mothers hearts are hungry things, and she felt that sho hail ' nothing left Her husband divined this mixed feeling, but in the shyness of his j new love could not penetrate her silence. After a while her strength failed; and, in great anxiety, he brought her back to Cloverleigh, to the old rooms that had been bowered by the apple blossoms; but blossoms and birds were all gone now. Here Margaret jrew restless; her thoughts turned from little Jack for the first time, and the afternoon after they came she wandered out by herself to the woods above the house. The sun was shining and there were one or two lata daisies in the grass. She stooped and gatiiered them. Her baby had been fond of them, and she had made him so many chains of them in the past .summer, and he had broken them, with his little coo just like a bird. She went on, dry-eyed and desolate. She started. Here was the place where John had asked her to be his wife, and with a pang she remembered the in tensity of her joy. Ah! how the petals had fallen from the flower. It had been unjust of John to take her without lov ing her. He had sought her and wooed her, and now she was so lonely. She heard his step and turned to hide from him, but the trees were bare now. Half curiously she looked at him. He had not seen her yet, for his eyes were bent on the ground. Unconscious of her presence, he took no pains to hide his despondency, and she could see how grief-woru was the handsome, kindly face. Contemplating him thus she for got herself, and the old strong love shone iu her eyes. He looked up and saw her pale and slim in her black dress, but there was that in those eyes which drew him to her to murmur in her ear how much he loved her. and she turned to him as she had never done before. "I am not worthy, dear," he said, having also learned the divine humility. So the bitter changed entirely to sweet; not suddenly, for it took some time for Margaret to lose her jealousy of the an gels. And that tim" was chronicled iu her soul as "the winter our baby died, and I first knew how dear I was to John." The Argot t. A Dog ie i Well. On tiie North road, about four miles from the city, lives a highly respected family named Stetson, consisting of a young man and his wife and the aged and iutirm sire of the lady. The old gentleman is crippled with the rheuma tism to such ah extent that he canuot leave his chair, but is wheeled about the room by his daughter. The Stetsons are the owners of a large powerful dog, half mastiff and half Newfoundland, noted for his intelligence and sagacity throughout the whole neighborhood, while a near neighbor possesses a little shaggy Scotch terrier. Between this ill sorted pair the strongest friendship has grown up, the dogs being almost insep arible. Mr. Stetson has been digging a well, and had reached a depth of twenty feet, but had not yet walled it up, when about a week ago he ami his wife found it necessary to visit Elmira on business. The wife drew her father's chair up to the window in the sunshine, aud other wise rendered him comfortable, and left him watching the gambols of the frisky, strangely-matched friends. Mr. Stetson had not more than driven out of sight when the little terrier fell into the well, which contained about two feet of water at the time. The old dog wxs almost frantic and lost his canine pres ence of mine in a wonderfully undigni fied manner. He would look down into the well at the yelping, paddling terrier and then howl ami run to the window, scratching on the casement and other wise exhibiting all the evidences of al most f rautic grief to attract the old man's attention- Suddenly he paused a mo ment and looked grave, as if collecting his scattered senses. Mrs. Stetson, be fore leaving for town, had taken iu the washing hanging on the clothes-line, coil ing up the iine and laying it on a bench. The mastiff had seen the workmen draw up pails of water by means of the rope, and an idea seemed to strike him. Seiz ing one end of the rope in his teeth he ran to the well with it and commenced slowly drawing it up to him and lower ing it into the well. The helpless old man at the window who was watching the proceedings with breathlcu' interest, then saw the old dog commence pulling up the rope by walking slowly away from the well. Slowly and carefully the sa gacious old mastiff drew up the cord, when up over the side of the crumbling Walls camo the muddy, dripping form ot the almost exhausted terrier clinging to the rone with his teeth. When Mr. btet son and his wife came home the old man attempted to toll his story, but it was so incredible that they could hardly believe it, but upon Mr. Stetson's going out to the well he found the mud-bedaubed rope lying where the old dog hail left it, and the prints where it had cut into the soft earth sides of the well were plainly discernible. Elmirt ( V. Y.) Advertiser. Sanitary Condition of Summer Resorts, Within the last few years the demand of the public in regard to health resorts and watering places of this country have increased, not only as to quantity, but as to quality. Quite a number of peo ple now require not only bathing, boat ing, anil amusements of various kind at their summer resort, but also that they shall have some assurance that they shall have pure water to drink, and that the air which they are to breathe shall not be rendered offensive or dangerous by imperfect systems of house drainage. At the present time the dangers from fouled water supply, especially if this be derived from wells, are in most places much greater in boarding houses than in the hotels proper, and this is due to the fact that the hotel proprietor is usually not only sufficiently a man of business to understand the imiiortanee of keeninu- mi ti,e reputation of his house for health- fulness, but his attention hxs been called to the close connection which is now generally believed to exist between such diseases" xs typhoid fever, diarrluea, diptheria, etc., and methods of sewage disposal, aud he therefore pays more at tention to sanitary engineering details about his premises than does the keeper of the average boarding-house. The tendency of all popular health resorts is to become unhealthy, because they de part more and more from their original type, which is that of a temporarily occupied camp, and tend to become vil lages, with village methods of water supply and disposal of excreta. This unpears in foreign health resorts as well a- in this country, ami the insanitary con dition of some of the most famous water ing places is h eonmon topic of discus sion in European medical and sanitary journals, it would certainly be wise on the part of those selecting a summer re treat to give as much attention to the watersupplyanddrainage as they usually do to the table in making their selection, but it must be confessed that at present it is difficult to obtain satisfactory infor mation as to the sanitary condition of such places without a personal visit to the locality. We advise our readers to look before they leap, for to leave one's, comfortable eitj' home in pursuit of health and pleasure, and contract ty phoid as the result is too much like going out to look for wool aud coming back shorn. Sanitary Engineer, Miss Daisy Faralee (of Boston) O, Mr. Cheviot I hear you have just re turned from the West! Now do sit down and tell me all about Chicago ami ranch life! Man's Ri-htt'o i I f - L. v ;u:.na!s. Since many wrw . oppo- d to the practice of x -n -'its on .loiiiiais have based 1'ieir nb cetious entivhnn mora! "rounds, in I tlris m i ie th n-'vmn ot I t- r vivisection an ethical one. 1 h ivo been anxious to '.now what laws they have discovered for ourguidamv on this veved subject They d.sjourse on cruelty, on immorality, and on the rights of ani mais; but these expressions are so vague that they fail to afford any basis for legal or public action, or. if there be any at tempt at definition, it is with the object of making these terms conform to a fore gone conclusion on the very point undet discussion. Thus it is constantly as serted that physiologists feel at liberty to torture animals at their plexsure without regard to the "higher dictates of humanity" or to the "laws of moral ity." It is thusimplied that there exist4 among the public some principle of con duet toward the lower animals which has no place among experimenters. Thc speak xs if, standing on a higher plat form and beholding all creatures from i superior position, they could frame a code of laws which should have due re gard to the rights of animals, and gov ern our own conduct in all our relations to them. This position is altogethci fallacious; man can not disconnect him self from the animal world, and can not define its rights. It must, therefore, b abandoned as altogether untenable, and the subject discussed from a totally dif ferent staudooint Our relation to th animal world can only iu a very quali fied sense be regarded from an ethical point of view; much in the same way as eating and drinking may bespoken of a questions of morality when moral con siderations exert their influence over the amount and kind of food which we eon fsmw; this, however, can not hide froit us the fact that the subject of digestion is fundamentally a physiological one. The duty of man toward animals xs an abstract question is from its very nature insoluble; it cau only be partially an swered on the grounds of expediency, aud these will vary according to age and nation. We should, rather, ask what is our relation to the lower animal world, and in what place iu that relationship can moral considerations come intc force? In endeavoring to form a judg ment ot this relationship we must take facts xs we find tiiem, for the attempt at au explanation is trying to solve the rid dle of our existence, and leaves us still with "the burden of the mystery of all this unintelligible world." Popular Science Monthly. m m The Dog and the Cat. A gentleman iu this city owns a fine large dog named Major. J-lajor's hatred of u eat appears to be deep seated, and lie will kill all that comes in his way, and will often go out of his way to vent his spite on his enemies. His master's wife had a cat which she determined Major should not harm, and she took great pains to impress the big brute with this idea. She would take puss in her arms, carry her up to the dog, and while .stroking and petting her. would talk tc her enemy reprovingly. The intelligent dog seemed to understand every word she said, but for all that he would keep his eyes fastened upon puss with a long ing aud hungry look, as though anxious to bring the pressure of his ponderous jaws to bear upon her spinal column. But his mistress conquered, and made him understand that he must live on friendly terms with puss. More than once he had been seen watching the cat Avith a look of evil intent, but out of respect to his mistress he conquered his nature, and would throw himselt upon the ground with a sigh expressive oi deep disgust at the .situation. The cat was disposed to be on friendly terms with her enemy, but Major would not tolerate the slightest familiarity. When ever puss approached him he would get up and go away with a melancholy look, which seemed to say: "I am dying to kill you. and its dog-gone hard hick that I can't do it." Thus matters went on for some months, and puss began to incur the displeasure of her mistress by sneaking up-stairs at every opportunity anil making trouble by curling herself up and taking naps on the snowy coun terpanes, and doing suclf other untidy acts xs would naturally arouse the ire of a neat housekeeper. One morning the lady told her husband that the cat was so troublesome that she guessed it would have to be killed. A few minutes later a rush and a struggling noise was heard, and as the lady of the house hastened to the door to see what had happened. Major walked up to his mistress and laid at her feet the dead body of puss, then looked up with an air of triumph, and wagged his tail with intense satisfaction. He had heard his mistress express the wish that puss might be killed, and thi wxs so in consonance with his own feel ings that he went right out and finished the cat. Major resides on Temple Street Hartford Times. m Toinpiij and Chic A won! used by some of the ultra del icates of the end of the Second Empire, the word " toinpin" is beginning to come into vogue again. One of the smart young men of a leading boulevard journal has written two columns on the subject. I beard the won! used in the divan of the Cirque tl'Ete on Saturday. It is being adopted in the clubs; iu short, it is a word coming into fashion. What does "tom phf mean? In general terms "tompin" is an imperfect "chic," of a kind between "chic" and sham "chic." Sham "chic" is loud, parvenu: real "chic" is discreet, natural, distinguished, but unobtrusive: "tompin" is a "chic" that betrays ef fort, preoccupation, excess of accentua tion; a "chic"' where the task is not irre proachable and the initiative not discreet The smart young man of the boulevard journal spoils the study of " tompin" by his instances. The word "tompin" ap plies to shades, to nuances of elegance, and elegance is never absolute: it is al ways relative to the person who displays it The question is at bottom one of sentiment, of tact, of feeling. The truly "chic" person will give, in his manners and exterior, an interpretation of the sentiment of "chic" that he con ceives within him with ee'rtitude, but which he could not, perhaps, explain. The man who is "tompin" will be so from the want of this sentiment, orfrom the uncertainty of it. Matthew Arnold is "tompin" in his eternal war against Philistinism. The Prince of Wales is never "tompin." London World. The Sentimental Editor. A few evenings ago we saw a lovely illustration of tlie adage, "Every clouu has a siher lining." The entire sky wxs a dull gray, almost leaden, save in the northwest, where there wxs an ob long bank of billowy clouds intensely black, each having an edge of bright silver that deepened into gold. Around the clouds the lxst rays of the sun rested in indescribable beauty. To our mind, ever ready to forget the practicalities of existence "and grasp at its beautiful fan cies, tlie scene was typical of life and death. The sky was "life, the clouds were the enormous sorrows that some times darken it the silver wxs the radi ant peace that God alone can give, and the gold represented that happiness merged into the perfect bliss of heaven, while the sun but faintly pictured the glorious brightness of the "Sun of right eousness" that turneth the light into day and the shadows into light Gumming (Oa.) Clarion. The New York Mail says: "We pay Brazil ??.r)0,000.000 a year for coffee, rB.'O.OOO.OOO of it in cash." We didn't mppose that the Mail was such a profita ble concern. We don't believe there is i paper in Norristmvn that could afford o pay j-.W.OOO.OOO a year for coffee. Xurrtstuivn Herald. FARH AND FIRESIDE. The best to:nao for pickling is the , size of a l:"gc walnut It should be of a good heat n green, with one side just ' beginning to s. w a tinge of red. i Silver Maple: This is one of the ' prettiest and ni-.at delicate leaved trees , which go to make up a picturesque lawn. ' It is light iu color, and appears well against a dark background. A'. 1". hi. mid. A correspondent of the Country UenUiman g.Ves the following as his method of destroying sprouts from roots ot tnes: Bo a three-fourth inch hole iu the cente-of the stump, ten inches deep: put in one ounce of the oil o! vitrol, and plug it up tight. A pretty way to ornament a pen holder which is made of wood is to bore a tiny hoie nt the end and insert a short peacock's feather. It should be secured .-ith a little glue, a I this must be done with neatness. 'Ibis makes a pretty and inexpensive gift, and is better adapted for use than tne painted feather holders. Stuffed peppers: The large bell pep pers are beat for this purpose. Cut around the stem, remove aim take .out seeds. For the stuffing use fine chopped cabbage, add'ng grated horse-radish, white mustard -seed, ceiery seed and salt to suit the taate. Fill the peppers with this mixture, putting iu each u small onion and a little cucumber. Tie the stem on and put into cold vinegar. liur.il yew Yurkcr. Other crops may be more profitable than corn, but corn is cash to the farmer, and may be relied upou every year if properly managed. It can usually be grown at a lesscos't than it can be bought (especially when due allowance is made for the f ceiling alue of the stover), aud when you have it you can change it into milk, butter or beef, mutton or wool, eggs or chickens, pork or turkey, just as you please, and in either of these changes it will contribute to the future, as it goes to the manure heap upon which you will depend for the next year's crop. C'Ai cago Juii mal. A rich citron cake is made of the whites of twelve ea. two cups of but ter, four cups of sugar, four and a hall cups of flour, half a cup of sweet milk, three teaspoonfuls of baking powder, and one pound of citron cut in thin aud small slices. This makes one very large cake or two medium sized ones, and, un less you have an excellent oven in which you can regulate the heat perfectly, it i better to bake in two tins than one. If one. tin is used, choose one with a funnel or spout in the cciiUu. This does away wtth the danger of burnt edges and a raw center to the cake. A. '. l'osl. Business, Crops aud Prices. Out of 8U'J,U(KJ persons engaged in business iu the country . 5,."97 failed dur ing the lxst six mouths, with aggregate liabilities of about fifty millions of dol lars. The liabilities amounted to about ten millions more than iu the first hall of ltfsl, but the im-rexse was not euoisgh to imlieatu any uus-juud condition oi business. ihe proportion of failures, indeed, w as very small, aud the loss by bad debts was .so slight iu comparison with the volume ot uitsiness transacted and the number of firms engage 1 in it, that the last six months were really remarkable for hu-dtiess health. In lb'7;" the numliei of failures wxs one to every I'l traders. In 1M2 it was one to every V2S. Thee figures, which we take from the semi-annual circular of Messrs. It. ('. Dun tv. Co., show that the gloomy appre hensions in regard to business which have been so widely entertained of late were not justified by the actual condi tion of trade during the year.. Those statiatics rather .suggest mercantile soundness, aud lead us to hope that after the comparative inaction of the summer, and with the coming of greatly reduced prices for food, business will be both v:ist iu volume ami satisfactory so far as concerns profits. Already a ve. . nt ,.derable share of the wheal cop has been harvested, and it is settled that it will be a very rich one, probably even greater than those ol the two years preceding ISSl. All the other grains are promising well. The weather has favored them, and as yet few reports of set backs to their pros perity have come in. A harvest which will be as a whole of extraordinary abundance begins to be confidently ex pected. That promises well for business. It also Indicates the speedy coming of prices for food as low as any to which we have been accustomed in the most plentiful years. Even butcher's meat has already declined somewhat from the prices of "a short time ago, and when fall brings in the recently matured stock it must come down to still lower figures. Cattle have bee.i and are still selling for more per pound, live weight, than the dressed meat could formerly be bought for at a family market But pasturage is unusually rich this year. The cattle of the West have not been decimated by a harsh winter, and the rejMirted losses of them by flood have probably been exaggerated. Prices much lower "than those now prevailing need not be expected for three months. But in the fall, when flour is cheap, po tatoes are plenty, and articles of food "eiienillv are nUainable at reduced prices, the cattle vards will contain ex ceptionally fine stock, numerous enough to bring their cost down to moderate figures. v. Y. Sun. -- Horse Sense. The three horses connected with en gine company No. 12. Boston Highlands, are handsom"; animals and xs noted tor their remarkable intelligence as for their fine appearance. Under the care of the members the horses have become very tractable, and arc obedient to the slight est word or gesture. A few mornings ago some evidences of their understand ii?r were witnessed, and are well worth detailing. One horse, " Charlie," had received no food since the night previ ous, and, when he was given his morn ing's supply of oats, he began eating with great zest, but the words "Charley, comeliere," spoken in a low tone from the rear of the stable, caused him in stantly to stop eating his tempting break fast, and to back from his stall and walk to the person calling him. Each of the horses did the same thing without hesi tancy, and at the command. "(Jo back." ach" trotted to his stall. The harnesses were removed from the horses, and oach one was told in succession to go and put on his collar. The collars were placed on end, so that the heads could go through, and each horse walked delib erately across the floor and wriggled his head into the collar without the slightest aid. After this they poked their heads into their bridles, which were held for them, each horse opening his mouth and taking his bit voluntarily. The main part of the harnesses can be hung in any part of the room with the assurance that at the word of command the horses will walk to the exact spot and place them selves in such a position that the harnesses can be readily dropped into place. The endeavors of "the animals to secure a po sition favorable to the easy adjustment of the collars almost compel one to be lieve that they are endowed with reason. Boston Herald. m Governor Stone, of Mississippi, has pardoned one Thomas H. Cook, who wxs under a ten-years sentence for man slaughter, upon his written promise to abstain from the use of intoxicating liquors, and from the carrying of con cealed deadly weapons for the term of ten years from the t28th day of January, 180. The pardon is to be void if Cook shall, within the time specified, use as a beverage intoxicating drinks, or carry upon his person concealed deadly weap ons. Chicu go Journal. ssneansssn KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE ! KENDALLS) THK MOsT SUl'i L-Fl'L KEUKDY EVKU DISt OV EltKU; AS IT IS CEIL TAIN IN ITS EFFECTS. AND DOES NOT BLISTEU. 2:05 cSSSSSSa cpwiK.r szgk & From COX,. L. T. FOSTER. Yimii'stown, Ohio, Mav 10th, 1N). It. .1. Kci'ilsU & ( o., Ceiit:-1 had a er vu!u.t1ile Ii;iiiiljl touiaii colt which 1 prized fiy hi-.'Iilv. h h id a lirtre hone s.tvin on one j-int and a small one on the other !iieh 111 id, i. 111 very lame; I had him under the char-re of two veterinary stirsri" 11- w li f ,i!i ' ! cure him. I was t.ne day re-idins; lite advertisement of Kendall'- .Sp:i i:. Cur in tl. Chicago Express. I dcte rmiiird at once to try it. and got. our dri :"'l- I'M to m-i i" f. 1 it, they ordered three bottle-. I trek tliem'all and thought I woultt uive it x I'lu. 11 I iri-il. 1 used it aeeordinir to directions and the fourth d.iv the col cea-rd to ! Lone, -ml the lumps had (li-.ippi-.ir.il. I useil htit one hottle iuI tie. -its" limb- are a- Ii e from lumps and i- r.uu th a anv horse iu I he -state. lt- i t-i-tir-I. nred. Pie m wa- -o remirkahle that 1 let two or mv neighbors have ihe t niainin I wo imttle- who are now iisin it. cry respectfully, L.T. KO-'TKIt. FEOM THE ONEONTA PRESS, N. Y. . Omenta. New York, .1.1:1. lilh. l.'tS!. I irly S.i! summer :.---r:. Ii. .1. Ki-nd.tll A- Co.. of Kiilun;h Kalis. Vt.. mule a coi tract vvhh the puhi -li.-s of the J 'rent for a hull" column advertisement for one ye- r -ettt ' torth them ra.-.-i Kvml.iM .; ivm Cure. At the .imh' ti ne we secured fn : . ie n-m a unit if . -f hoi. . . entitled Ir. K.-ml ill's Treatise on the ll-ir-e and his 1). a---, which v..- .tr giv, i.j to adv.nu-e piviu,; .subscriber- to the J'resi as ti premi..i:i Ah nt t'i time th -n!e tisi-inent tirst ippeared in this piper Mr. P. (J. Scher tnerhori,. who rcii'e- rear otlii-is, hail a spavined ho:-e He read the advertise ment and e-i-K.ii.!e. ti te-t t e etlic.iey of the remedy, iltboufh .his friends laugh-d at hi cretin uitv tl lt irh: a bottle of Kendall'- Spivin Cure and commenced uin it on the ht.r-e in .n-ivnl with the dir. etien-. and be informed us tnis week that it effected sin h a uipli ! cure that an expert iior-emau. who exunined the aiiim.il recently coi. d :tnd no trace of the -pavin or the place where it hail been located. Mr. i-euermerln nas -nice secured a copv of Kent! ill- l'reaii-e on the Horse and his Di-ease. w l.i. !. he piic- very highly "and would ie loth i part with .it anv price, provided he could not ! .tin another copy. So much l..r .tdv eriisim; reliable articles. KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE. Cidtimhiaua. Ohio. Dec. 17th. ll. B. ,1. Kendall A-Co.. Cents: You will tiud below .1 iecemmeiidat:oii from our expressman. We .-elt Korulall's Spavin Cure and titul all who 11-e it ate p!ea-cd with it. You niav send lis more advertising matter, ami a tew nice card- with our irtmes on them. CON LEY A: KIN'O. B J. Kendall A Co., Cents: I am u-ing your .Spavin lure for a bone spavin, (bought of Conley A Kin:.'. Drtiiriri-ts. Colnml-iana. Ohio.) I lim! it jn-t the tiling to cure a spavin; tlie Itmene h.t-all h-ft mv mare, .-hm! by further 11-e of the cure 1 look for the lump to le-ive. The one bottle va- worth to me ten time- the c.i-t. Yoiiri tuily, ' KKAXK BE1.1.. KENDALL'S SPA vTN CURE. ' Horse anil his Oise ises. 1 have u. n u-im; your t.iviii un mi one ol mv hur-e- fin bom spavin. One bottle entir-h cured the l:tiii,-ii, ai d remove! 1110-t all the bunch. Your-rispectfultj. LKKItY M. OI'AHA.:. Milwaukee. Wis., I.tn. .sth. iss. B. J. Kendall A Co., Cent-:l have the hiirne-t opinion of Kent! ill'- Spav ii: tore. I find it equally good for manv other trou'de- named by v .111, and p.n licul.irli for removing enlargements. Your-verv truly, c. V. BKADLMY. KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE. Kendall's Spavin Cure i- -un- 111 it- Hefts, mild iu tts .n-iii.t, 4s it does not Mister, yet it is penetrating and powerful lo reach any de -p -e u-d mi or to re move anv bony growth or any other ei'iariremi-nt if 11-iil for -everal dtv-. -uch a-spavin-, -plints. callous, sprains, -vvellini.'. anv I.im-lie .nui 1! c- .".em.-ii: - vl the joint- or limbs, or rheum iti-:u in iii t'i air! lorar-v i-i'p -.- I 1 m!,i. n 1 liniment is Used for man or beast. Ii is n..vv kn w a t ! tnc I,. ,n. u -:i .r .11 u t er - t, acting mild vet certain in it-1 :f-.-;-. it 1 i-. .1 in uiii .treittii . 1: 1 t.-.fe.-- -u" t it all seasons of the year. Send address for Illustrated ircular. v.lic'i we think uive-ii.,-itiv ;r mf. of in virtues. No remedy h - met with -u--!i t:.i-i ilui 1 -n. .-.--- . un- ki; w (e..-, fr liea-l as well a man. Price $1 per bottle, or i '! !- for - . ALL DRUGGISTS have it or cau get it for you. or it will he sent to anv addre-- n receipt o: p:i-t. bv tlie piopi irtois, IS L)r.' B. ,J. KENDALL A" CO. ivio-hmr Falls Vermont. SOLD ;BY ALL DIUrGCnSTW. WHEN YOU TBAVEL ALWAYS TAKE THE B. & M. R. R.! Examine map and time table-, c.iretiillv It w ill be seen that this hue coiinects with C. H.AtJ. B. B.; in tact they are under one management, and taken together form what is called Shortest nnd Quickest Line to mm. st. DES 3I0IXES, R( K ISLAND, And Especially to nil Points in IOWA, WISCONSIN, INDIANA, ILLINOIS, MICHIGAN, OHIO. I'UINCII'AL ADVANTAGES AKK riiroutrh coaches from destination on C. 15. A Q. It. II. No transfers; change f.om C. It. A . It. Ii. to conneet iii!; lilies all made in Union Depot-. THROUGH TICKETS AT LOWEST BA'IES CAN 1IK HAD I'pon application at any station on the .oad. Ajjeiiti are also prepared to check lailjrajre throiifrli; uive all iuformitiou a ,o rates, routes, time connections, etc. mil to Bfciire sleepiiijr car accomoda tion). This company is ensured on m exten tion which will open .1 NEW LINE TO DENVER .l ..II ,,,f Ifi I n1n..,ili. Tills .". telitiou will be completed ami ready for ui-ine. 1 iu a ,few months, ami tlie pm ic can then enjo all the adv uitajre- of 1 through line" between I -over and Chicago, -ill under one management. I S. I'llXtl-t. Gen'l T'k't A'ut. 4Sy Omuia, Nkii. LAND, FARMS, AND CITY PROPERTY JfOR SALE, AT TIIE - Union Pacfic Land Office, On Long Time and low rate ' of Interest. All wishing to huv Kail Koad I.and or Improved Farms will tlnd it to then advantage to call at the U. P. Land Office before lookin elsewhere as 1 make a specialty of buying and selling lands on commission; ill persons wish ing to sell raruiH or unimproved land will find it to their advantage to Ieae their lands with me tor sale, as my t.t cillties for affecting -ales are unsiir passed. I am prepared to make hna: proof for all parties wishing to get a patent for their hoine-tead &. S-Iletiry CorUe, Clerk, write- ami -peaks (teriuau. SAMUEL C. SMITH, Agt. U. P. I..imt ,u,l,.:inmei'.tii K-2M- COLl'MBl'S. NhK $66' week in our ow n town. ? lOuttit free. No ri-K. r.vtr., 'thing new. Capital not re quired We will mrm-h you everything. Many are maK.ng 1. nm.es Ladies make an roufh as n.jL . and glrli make great pay. ; you want biiHine- at which you ran make great pay all J"1 .WV write for particulars to II. Halleit A Co., FortUnU, J!-.- dn-y A I.-O I'.X- ILLENT r(;K 1 1 1 MAX ' L K i 11 I BSrRMAD PROOF BELOW gar aMBrJBMS"SMrfygr'' ' rt-e1. jf a J7 U.i. he.-ter. I ml.. Nov. With. I-Si Ii. .1. Ki-iulal A Co.. ci nt-: -l'let-e -end 11-a -Mppl- of t Iverti-in - matter for Ken dall s ;i. i Cu.-e. It has 1 good sale here A iMVe- the best ot --ltlsl.1, noil. Ol -ill We ll IV e -old v.e have yet to l.-arn the tir-t imlavoFa hlerepoit. Verv re-p'-ctfilllv, .l. I) WsON A -UN. Winthrop. Iowa, Nov.'.' d. !s-0. It. .1. K.-mlull A Co., '.ents: K do-eil ideae tii.i '.") i , -nt.- for our lie ttise on the - 1870, 1882. I' II K ''. Sfonmul 1-conducted as a FAMILY NEWSPAPER, Devoted to the best mutual inter ests of its readers and it publisher-. Published at Columbus. Platte county, the centre of the agricul tural pf.rtioiiofNeliraska.it is read by hundred- of people east wlioaru looking toward.- Nebraska u.i their future bmi . Its -uli-.-rihers ni Nebra-ka are the staunch, solid portion of the community, as is evidenced by the fact that the JOUKNAI. has never contained a "1I1111" aain-t them, and by the other fact that ADVERTISING lit it- columni always brinr- it reward. Business is biisinesi, and thoie who vvi-h to reach the solid people of Central Nebraska will Hint the columns of the Jouknal a splendid medium. JOB WORK Of all kinds neatly and uiekly done, at fair prices. This -peeiei of printing ii nearly alway- want ed in a hurry, and, knevvin; this fact, we have -o provided for it that we c:i furnish envelopes, let ter head-, hill head-, circular, posters, etc., etc., on very short notice, and promptly on time uh we promise. SUBSCRIPTION. I copy per annum ... ' Sic month " Three months, $2 00 . 1 00 fiO Single copy -cut lo any addreiB in the United States foriicti. M.K. TURNER & CO., Columbus, Nebraska. EVERYBODY I'.in now alford A CHICAGO DAILY, THE CHICAGO HEKALD, All the New- everv day on four Inrge page-of -cvin column- each. The Hon. I Frank W. P.iIhit ( Postmt-ter or Chi cagoj, Kditor-iii-Chief. A Republican I Daily for j $5 per Year, .Three mouth-. $l.."i. One month on t trial ."i cents. I C PI T C A C r O I "WEEKLY HERALD" Acknowledged by evi rv body who has I read it to be the best e ght-paire paper ever published, at the low pru-i of 81 PER YEAR, Po- -g. Free. Contain-1 correct 111 irket reports, all the news, and general reading interest ing to the farmer and his family. Special term- to agent- and clubs" Sample Copies fiee. Address, CHICAGO HERALD COMP'Y 120 and 122 Fii'th-av., CUICAQO.ILL jo-tr J w x