Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Columbus journal. (Columbus, Neb.) 1874-1911 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 3, 1883)
ex M v. V . THE JOURNAL. WEDNESDAY. JAN. 3, 1883. Zttirtl t tko TuteSci, Cckafca. He., J ii eUu sitter. TUANKSQl VINO. When the orchards with blossoms were blush ing. The willows unrolling: their leaves. And the fields with the tender vrneat flushing: That soon would be waring- with sheaves. Not then went tho toiler to labor. The task of subduing the earth. With the sound of tho pipe and the tabor. With anthems of Joyance and mirth. Hor yet when processional flowers Passed on tbrongh the light or the gloom, When tho vivid and picturesque hours Laaghed out in a splendor of bloom. When the oriole, royal and golden. Flashed forth like a gem in the sun, Btill man by stern duty was bolden, Not yet was the vlotory won. When the vines on the trellis were burdened With clusters all purple and sweet; When the hand of the worker was guerdoned With bouutyof harvests complete; When wide over mountain aud valley The banneri of autumn, unfurled In a vast and magnificent rally. Shed lustre and pomp o'er the world; Then pausing: to think of the story Of promise, f ulnllment aud cheer. The hopa and the faith and the glory, The crown of the beautiful year, Frouuthe stress of our care-weighted livlaff, Thpstrain of ourjfcrryingdays, Wejttreuk, and -uplift a thanksgivingjf rM aJr ilnce the lojtfb that is vlgllar. jllanjjp'er ut, , Still answijfs the earnest enueavq4P ' With mn-e than a measured reward, And suflffirs our woarinflM never To slip from the grafp of the Lord, Bo, silver-haired father and mother, 80. middle-age sturdy and strong. Bo. dear little sister aud brother. Join voices aud hearts In the song: To the sound of the pipe and the tabor Weave chorals of gladness and mirth, For the toiler may rest from his labor. And plenty hath dowered the earth. liuards ever tne young THE WIDOW'S FESTIYAL. How long the days were! Day after day he had lain there, weak, uflermg, patient, enduring all thing3, and rewarding all care with a look of tender gratitude, a faint hand-pressure, now ana then a word of thanks. The accident had been dreadful. Through the carelessness of a switch tender'a fast train had left the track and plunged over a high trestle-work. Thirty people were killed at once aud at least lifty injured. Among the latter this man, "Judge Seymour, was hurt worst of all. CHhers had broken bones and bruised muscles; some were taken up senseless, and, lingering unconscious for a day or two, died without returning to their senses a nerciful dispensation; but the physicians in his case pro nounced the spine seriously hurt and feared internal injuries. He might re cover, and he might not. Time would how. He was a vigorous man, of middle age, with a lovely, loving wife and three children, just elected Governor of his native State; full of plans for a career he meant to make noble and useful. His reputation was wide and lofty; his per sonal friends numerous aud warm; he had a moderate fortune and a pleasant home. What more could life ofler him? Yet here he lay, the victim of a man's carelessness. It seemed to his wife that with him all she cared for was fading away. Her children were about her; but they were young. They leaned on her, and she had clung to her husband for help lo bear the cares and burdens of living, till she grew, as a vine grows, weak of stem, unable to stand alone, prostrate if unaided. Now she was wearing out with a strain of suspense and anxiety; trying to keep her face calm aud her hands steady; leaving the bedside only when flesh and spirit could bear the stress no longer aud to stay would have been dangerous to her husband and agony unendurable to her. So it went on, day after day. Some times he was better, or she thought so; oftcner he was worse. The alterations of hope and tV.ir tortured her, and, watching the minut symptoms, the mo mentary aspects, the most trivial details, she lost all power to jreneralize and com- Srehend the case. She did no see that e gained nothing in reality, that nodaj' found him stronger; but that every week he lost something and suffered some new pain. But the end came, aud to her came suddenly. She was called from her troubled sleep to find him uncon eciou. to see iiim die. speechless, unrec ognizing, blind. Years before, in driv ing .slowlv past a little country grave yard, a new monument erected to the memory of a young man killed by the caving in of a samf-quarry had caught her eye. She knew the incident and re called the name she saw; but the fence hid all but the first line of the epitaph, which ran: "Without one parting word." It had touched her deeply at the time and often since; but now she knew what it meant. Over and over it rang in her ear and moved her silent lips as she bur ied her head in the pillow beside her dead and longed to be dead, too. But the children called from without Life challenged her even in her despair. They must not enter. So she rose and went out to them and told them. The- were children. They could not even know what death was, and their questions, their incredulity, their want of grief, that w:ls ignorance instead of heailless nes, stung her to the quick. She was not generous or sptnpathctic enough to uudrst:md them, and for the first time he felt a fierce impatience of their pres ence and sent thorn all away to the nur sery. Then she was quite alone and be gan to know it But why should I describe the dire experience we have almost all been, through, in some form? What I have to do with is Mrs. Seymour's life after the funerat pageant was over, the grave ;reen, the children taught their sorrow y those about them anil then comforted out of it into practical forgetfulness. But Eleanor Seymour did not forget; time did not comfort her. She felt day rafter day more deeply the loss of her life; she fathomed its meaning; she knew it past repair; in the language of Scripture, she "refused to be comforted." Her children were rosy, careless, happy, and in health they had their school and thek comrades; but she had made few friends in Salem since they went there to live, at the time she married Mr. Seymour. She was not a women of broad nature, and yet she was intense. She had all she wanted or needed in her husband's affection and society even the children were secondary to him in her heart, and. though she had acquaint ances in her own social sphere and dis pensed charity as freely as her means would allow, there was no one now to whom she could open her heart and find therein the relief of "the grief that speaks." She came home from church one dark November day, had her late dinner, saw the children safe in their beds, and seated herself by the kindled wood fire in the library to spend her solitary evening: for the rain beat fiercely now against the northeast window, and in its gusty pauses the roaring surf sent its thundering echo on the wings of the wind even th rough the heart of the town. For this reason of the storm she stayed from church to-night; and, as she sat stariug into the flicker of the tire, something re called to her the proclamation for Thanksgiving Day that had been read from the pulpit that afternoon. Her lips smiled with a scorn sadder than tears. "Thanksgiving!" she murmured. "I keep Thanks2riving!,r"and her thoughts went back to all the times she had kept that festival in her life, kept it outward ly and in spirit for she was a good woman'and meant to be a grateful one jjji three months ago. She rauembwed her childhood. How long the years seemed then: how she looked forward to the gathering of aunts and uncles and cousins in the old red Greenvich farm house; how much a new di ess meant and what wonderful viands ur ndraother always spread before them. Then she was a girl, coming home from school, and her brother Drought his class-mates home with him-rsuch as had no near homes, at least "to spend Thanksgiving." So she had met her husband. Her brother was dead long since; and now James. A low cry part ed her lips, the fire fell into brands, flickered, grew dull; and she went on with her review of the past. There was her wedding-day that had been on Thanksgiving. Her mother she had never known. Oscar and she were all the children, and of the three she and her father were left then, and he only lived to see the next feast, the first of her matronhood celebrated in her own house. Since then were not all her Thanks givings alike? All full of cheer, grati tude, blessedness? And now "I shall not try to have a Thanksgiv ing," she said, dreamily; and, looking up, saw her husband sitting opposite her in his own chair, which she had never moved from its place by the hearth. Strangely enough, she felt neither sur- Erise nor fear, nor did she remember er loss. It was so customary and natural to see him there that only a full, sweet sense of peace stole over her. She seemed to have just come home, and to be so glad; but he did not smile. He looked at her with tender gravity, and very clearly and slowly repeated a favorite quotation of his: "Thouseestwe are not all alone un happy," adding, " there are other wid ows beside vou, Nelly." Other willows! What did he mean? She rose to her feet with a start. A brand fell, blazed up, went out Tho chair opposite hers was empty. The clock on the shelf struck nine. It had marked the half hour, she remembered, just as the first brands fell together. It was a dream, then. She shivered and came back to life, lit the lamp, fed the dying lire and returned to her new grref. New because that face had been so real, her gladness so deep, and now it was lost once more, with a fresh bereavement. But, though the tears fell hopelessly and fast from her eyes, and her heart ached anew with the rebellious anguish of loss, still his words kept recurring to her. She had not thought ot that before. There were other widows, no doubt others sorrow ing with her sorrow, in kind, if not in degree. She remembered one whom she had been to see in her charitable rounds, and then another, and among her ac quaintances she recalled one whose hus band had, not long since, died abroad, and another widowed suddenly years ago, and still another who had married an old love when he was smitten with consumption and nursod him to his death. She was startled to see how she had passed by all these sorrows as more matters of course, without any real sym pathy; and a sense of companionship stole upon her, as if, suddenly wrecked on some desert shore, she had" met with beings of her own race after long lonely weeks of silence and despair. Then the thought flashed across her that all these women must dread the re currence of Thanksgiving, just as she did. Why could she not ask them all to keep the day with her? It would be, at least, a sympathetic, if a sad festlvla. The idea laid hold upon her. It was the first reaching out of the detached tendril toward another and a, surer sup port She fell asleep, thinking the mat ter over, and awoke in the morning with a shamefaced sense of some light and interest creeping into her life, hitherto so sacredly wretched. Then she re membered her dream her husband's sad, grave face. Perhaps she had done wrong in mourning him so devotedly that even her children had been set aside from their place. Possibly it would please him better if she carried out her plan. The children welcomed her with more caresses that morning than for man a long day. With childish instinct they felt she was not so cold or so un willing to return their tender way. They dared to laugh now at tho breakfast table, for she smiled with them. She had learned the first letters of the lesson meant for her, and learned them thor oughly; the next were to come. When the earl' day's duties were over, she sat down again by the library fire not to dream now, but to plan for action. But, whom should she invite? For she began to see that Mrs. Broome, who HveiT in the fourth story of a tenement house aud carued a precarious living, would hardly be a fit companion at dinner for Mrs. Gray, whose husband, dying in Florence, had left her more money than she could spend and a house and grounds money could scarcely improve. A text from the Bible flashed into her mind, as texts will on the most convenient or in convenient occasions, sometimes to our aid, sometimes to ourconfusion: "When thou makest a feast call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind." With a thrill in her dumb and dark ened soul, she recognized the Master's call. She was a good woman, at heart a sincere Christian; but her love and her loss had come between her and her duty, her hope of Heaven, her living work. With shame aud contrition, she saw her place befote God, and recognized her own deserving, and His hand of love and power. Ft was the work of a mo ment and had but a moment's sway, for the old anguish came crowding back and surged over her once more, Rke an angry wave across a wreck. She, made her first effort to master it, however, in returning to the thoughtof Thanksgiving Day. The matter of her guests was settled for her now, and she felt that it would be easier far for her to feel and express sympathy with these sufferers than with persons who mu-t observe the usages and reticences of higher social spheres. So she drew out the old visit ing list of poor, so long neglected, and in the afternoon set out on her errand. Charity of any sort is not always easy or pleasant to administer. The poor, at least in this country , are hedged about with their own self-respect, and a cer tain barrier of jealous pride, a feeling that they are just as good as anybody else, and will not be condescended to. All this Mrs. Seymour had to contend with, besides the individual traits of character. The shyness, the real humil ity, the want of fit clothing, the dread of being uncouth, and the natural instinct of refusal to anything proposed by an other that is a marked and almost uni versal trait of New England character. It was the work of several days, much weariness, more patience and many promises to insure the attendance of six Eoor widows at her table, who would nof ave feasted, but probably fasted, at their own homes; but the effort done her good. Her sense of humor awoke, her interest in something beside her own grief was strongly aroused, and the patience that was only retained by a constaut inward reference to the Master's brought him more nearly, more dearly to mind every hour, and with him the word of the angel at the sepulcher a word meant for every mourner at the prave of the body: Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here. Heisrien!" It was an invaluable teaching, that long week's experience; and when, at last, Mrs. Broome was certain of a new cap, Mrs. Perkins understood that Mrs. Seymour knew as well as she did that her uncle's widow always sent her a turkey and a squash from Deerfield (when sh-s had them to se d) for Thauksgiviug; when Mrs. Peck had made her feel that her own ancestors had been much better off in their day than the Seymours, and Mrs. Hutchins really took to heart the fact that Mrs. Seymour could and did want a "poor old cretui' " like her to sit at her table and share her feast; when Aunt Hannah Brtnmfield saw that "Mis' Skuttles- she that was old Jake Brown's darter' al- though asked would not be well enough to go, so that Aunt Hannah would not have to "demean herself' by the en counter; and, last of all, "Widder John son" received the ear-trumpet without which she refused to enter into the so cial circle; then Mrs. Seymour felt that there was a weight off her mind, anil felt also that she had been a happier and better woman for the last week than for long before. She had. indeed, gone out of that cell of self which isolates us all in a new grief, and tasted once more the light and sweetness of that heavenly day which shines on the evil and the good, bul is reflected only from the un selfish and sincere spirit. The children entered joyfully into the idea of a Thanksgiving so novel, and all the more that their mother told them, with trembling lips. "Papa would like it" Eleanor Sevmour had begun to find that her children had not forgottan their father, and that in their tender talk about him, which now she encour aged, after so long a silence, she had heretofore lost a consolation and a pleasure. Faster and faster she was learning. At last Thanksgiving Day came. Mrs. Broome, smiling in her new cap, and Mrs. Perkins, trying to look blandly in different, were the first comers. Then the carriage came again, with lame Mrs. Hutchins, meek and deprecatory, in her alpacca gown: Mrs. Peck, proudly dangling an old miniature of one of her aforesaid aucestors done up as a locket in a pinchbeck setting; and Aunt Han nah liromlield, as "genteel" a3 shecould make herself in a clean muslin neck erchief and a hair-painted breastpin. "Widder Johnson" lived round the cor ner only and walked, coming in with a brandished ear-trumpet in her haud and her face beaming. The dinner was a great success. The "baby" of the house satin his high chair, by mamma; but the elder boy aud girl waited on the guests and enjoyed their office. "Them is sweet children of your'n, Mis' Sevmour." sighed Mrs. Broome. "My! if'l'd had chick or child, 'twould have been seeh a blessin' ; but when he died I was the lonesomest! Seemed as though there wan't nothin'." "That's so!" chimed in Mrs. Perkins. "I had two on 'em, to be sure, when Perkins was took; but they wan't no comfort to speak of, for they went and had dipthcery inside of six months, and one of 'em died rightoff, just as sudden. T'other one held by quite a spell, but she was the miserablest you ever see. I couldn't feel to keep her here a mite longer, I wanted for her to get rest and easement so." Eleanor's arm stole round little Jacky, and Mrs. Hutchins said, gently: "I expect folks each has their special troubles. I can't butremember't when Josiah died and left me nigh about help less with hip trouble; and a young babe, too. It did seem as though nobody ever had or could have no trouble like mine, the world over: but somehow I got along, and I fouud that there was others quite as bad off as I was, 'and the Lord helps the lame and the lazy.' folks say. I do' know about the lazy, but I do about the lame," and a smile and tear together set their bright seal to this con fession of faith. "Well!" said Mrs. Peck, with an audible sniff and a hard, shrill voice. "L din't think I was the worst off that ever was when Mr. Peck died, now I say for't His folks was real respectable, so to speak; but he was a drinkiu' character. I didn't know nothin' of it when we was married. My folks didn't really fellowship him. They said he was low lived and opposed my havin' of him con sider'ble: but I wa3 sot in my way to have him, and, come to find out. he wa'n't steady. He had the tremens in five years and died on't; and I went out a sewin', to keep body and soul together. There was them that counseled me to marry again, and there was them that asked mo to; Uut I nllers said once was enough. I hadn't no pleasant recollec tions of the state o' matrimony and I wa'n't a-goiu' to try it no more. I could take care of myself, an' so I could ef my eyes hadn't ha' give out a spell Mrs. Seymour looked at her with infinite pity. Not even a blessed past, a taste of earthly felicity to look back on, but a life all bitter disappointment and grinding work; while she had the dear memory of years underlying her loss. "You dou'tnoneof ye hev jest my trial," said Aunt Hannah Bromtield. " Jeems Bromlield was fust mate to a whalin' ship when we was married. My sakes! what a feller he was to joke an' to carry on! He had means, too. We was real well off. 'Twas kinder harrow in' to hev him up an' off for a three-years' voyage right away, and then he didn't stay to home no time when he did come; but I had twins for to show him when he come back fust, and you never see a man so pleased. Well, them boys was com pany for me, you'd better believe. They was always a-talkin' about Pa, an' where he went to an' what he did, and a-tellin' about whales and harpooners, aud hed their little ships a-sailiu in the tide-pools, rigged as nateral as life; and I declare for't, they trapped a yonng rat one day. The trap killed it, and I smelt the awf ul est smell afore long out 'u the yard, an1 they was a-strippin' an' fleusin' an' try in' up that rat, a-pretendin' 'twas a whale. Makes me laugh now." And Aunt Hannah drew her yellow silk handkerchief across her eyes, not as if she were laughing. "Well, 'twas part my fault I let'em. It fetched Jeems to mind, somehow, aud I didn't hanker after him half so bad when them little fellers was a-chirrupin' and a-carryin' on all the time. But, fust I knowed, they was eighteen year old, and they hadn't seen their Pa more'n five times; but he came back then, and there they was as likely men as you'd see; and he hed mouey in the bank, and he and Jehiel Styles they clubbed and built a whaler o' their own, and Jeems was cap' en and 'Hiel fust mate, and nothin' would serve but them boys must go along fust voyge. Well, it's thirty year ago. I'm goin' on sixty-eight now; but I don'tllke to talk on't. The upshot is, sea and waves roarin' day an' night, and night and day; winds a-blowin an' tempests howlin', and no more boys, nor husband, nor nothin', and here I be. I do' know so much as where their bones do lie, nor I haven't this thirty year." There was a dead silence. Nobody felt like breaking it; but little Rachel, who had listened, with her sweet brown eyes wide opened and her lips apart, put both her arms about Aunt Hannah's neck and, with a child's quick wisdom, gave her a resounding kiss. The old lady laughed. "That done me real good, pussy," she said. "I kep' a school for children twenty odd year to Gloucester. I do' know but what I should ha' died but for them. Waitin' is work, now, I tell ye; but I hain't got nothin' to wait for now only for the sea to give 'em up, and that's pretty fur ahead." The others said nothing. Doubtless, they too had their sorrows, but they would sound tame after Aunt Hannah's; and when tea had been sent in to them, as they gathered round the open fire, and they at last went off in relays in the carriage Eleanor Seymour had sent for them, she sat down in the library and hid her face in her hands. What had she not to be thankful for? Living, loving children, a long, sweet memory of love and care lavished on her, of honest hap piness, an ample provision left not only for her needs, but her comforts, and the certainty that her husband was in a bet ter home than the earthly one he had left He had not perishedon the "deso late, rainy seas," with beloved children, helpless to rescue or be rescued beside him; she had been with him to the last, and his grav was made in the bosom of his native earth. fTo ungrateful, how uuthinking, how sinful she had been. Ouly one crj could burst from her lips: " I do thank Thee! Lord, be merciful to me a sin- nr ' " And it seemed to her. assh lifted her strcanuus: evi. that she could see her husband's face sm'liugjit her across the fire-place: but it was an im agination, not a dream. "She had, at last found that hex grie did not exceed all other sorr.w, that hai loss was not unique of immeastirj Ule, that life had still abund mt g.fts &nilet ! and Heaven an ever-brighteniug-fL " ise. Not that she forgot her husb.re ! ceased to mourn for him; but !SjgTD ory became a sacred treasure, instjf 0- ' a sharp regret, and her mouminjF pi t the face of a veiled joy, as it led h ftnU the hearts of her fellow-suiferJaniI taught her how to console them V th J comfort wherewith she herself was com forted of God. And neither she nor he o-uests of that occasion ever forgot hv first, but not her last, widowed Thanks- fiving. Rose Tart Cooke, in N. I ndependent. Lire Stock an 1 Prosperity. The furor among rich fancy farmer for fancy live stock has some absurdities about it, and yet it is. on the whole, ex erting an influence very welcome to all who would see farming advauced, par ticularly in the direction of pleasure and profit Not many pursuits are thor oughly profitable unless they are loved and enjoyed, and the breeding of im proved stock generally calls out ajnan'a admiration and makes him something ot an enthusiast. He likes to handle, tt look at and to talk about his stoeanc when that is the case he do&Vhou, quite as much of the dark side orJbriM ing. An animal, or even a chickeEyc. be petted more naturally than a field, a fruit tree, or any other inanimate object. A farmer may put up a house or a barn that mav be his pride, or lay out and plant a fawn that always pleases, aud yet he cannot pet it as he would an ani mal beautiful in form and color and with eyes of speaking intelligence. And the more things one has to admire or love about oneN home the harder it is to break from its associations. On the contrary, poor stock rather disgusts. We feci no pride in it. .It re flects no credit upon us, and so it tempts to more neglect than admiration. It lirinnr npitlipr nrnlit nrr tilensiirp. Thfi mind wanders off to other things, and these may steal away one's interest in his home and farm. This is the dangei with boys. If everything is humdrum, if thereis little to relieve the daily mo notony, lots of hard work, few holidays, few or no pets, and no chance for boy ish energy or ingenuity to be exerted, no little "nest-eggs" of money in view, what more natural than fcr the boys to get discontented with farm life, to com pare it with other pursuits, and to vows perhaps, to go to the city as soon as pos sible, "where something is going on" to learn a trade, be a clerk, keep books, be an editor, a professor, a preacher, or a politician? The farmer who thinks these longings can be put down by any word of command makes a mistake. He had better study into the cause3 and try to exorcise them by judicious treat ment. And he will find improved stock a great aid, and especially if he will , allow the boys to share in the profits when they come. More live stock on all farms is the need of the hour. There is constantly in creasing demand for meat, and also for all the products that come from stock. Horses are wanted for work and pleasure, and their numbers will swell just as rap idly as other stocks increase. No work people in the world consume as much of good living as those in the United States. The working foreigners who come here, though unused to much meat at home, soon catch the infection, and improved wages or incomes from farms of their own enable them to enjoy the prtrilege. Tho constant ml rupkl Increase ofianu factures, in addition to other causes, in creases the number of consumers in a greater ratio than the stock increases. The opening of new markets in foreign countries for meat and other live stock products is also increasing on the whole, in spite of occasional set-backs. And, lastly, the farms all need more stock for their development through the use of manures. Commercial manures are ol great value, but nothing can permanently take the place of stable manure. He is a wise farmer, then, who aims to supply himself with live stock to the fullest extent that his capital and his acres will admit He needs manure, and as the mass of farmors cannot find it to buy, the must make it or go without. To go without, or make it only in the old way (a few animals to several hundred acres.) means little or no increase of fer tility, no increase of home comforts, no better education for the children, no en hanced attractions to farm life. The burden that dairymen formerly brought to the farmer's wife and daughters is now relieved by the creamery; the farm er's own burdens, if increased in amount, are relieved in part by a greater diffusion of work through the seasons, greater variety and greater profits. For his crops machinery is rendering vast aid, and, if properly and systematically handled, his stock soiling points the way. The wasteful and barbarous sys tem of pasturing must give way to the necessity for more stock, and with that farming becomes far more a strictly business pursuit than before. Every thing about farm work will be studied with more care, and the large haphazard or happy-go-lucky element eliminated. When we can get farmers to think more, to study aud plan in advance, to rigidly note cost aud production, how to in crease the latter and reduce the former, though his hand work may be less hi? head work will be more effective. The man who owns and runs a farm should be a manager rather than the head work man merely. The idea that the owner of a farm must of necessity "hold the plow or drive," or do both, is a mistake natural enough to be made, perhaps, in view of what farming has been, or even what it is and must be in many quarter' but there Is something better for the edu cated farmer, or the man who, with t good education, applies business princi ples and capital to fanning. It is not good business, for instance, to keep a cow and not know what she is worth in milk and butter, nor what it costs to keep her, nor whether she is annually improving or deteriorating. It is not good business to guess at the cost of a crop, or to conclude that because your great-grandfather raised it therefore you can wisely raise it It is not good busi ness not to know what are the annual sales and expenses, nor to sneer at an annual inventory as a "foolish notion." So it is not good business to let one'i farm run down in fertility on the ground that manure is lacking and that it cannot be bought profitably. The way to do is to keep" stock. If the necessary capital is really wanting, it may be a lame wretched sort ofiarming which is fol lowed, but it is not business farming by any means. I know very well that many a man is unable to follow his ideal of what a business duty is, but in thou sands of cases this is not the reason, at all. It is the force of old habits, preju dices, dislike of change, mental inertia, or conceit Cor. N. Y. Sun. A man of Berks County, Pa., whi hunting, laid his gun upon the ground. A rattlesnake crawled into one of the barrels and refused to be dislodged until the weapon was discharged. After that his snakeship offered no further ob jections. m A farmer who has tried it says tur keys will lay on more fat in two week when confined in a comfortable pen thaa they will in four when suffered to. rank bie about. N, J. Herald. Tie Morgme ef St. ucrnard. The great curiosity at the monastery of the Mount St. Bernard is the morgue. If the day is a little warm the brother j who attends to visitors hesitates a bit before opening the door of the wooden ' huuje jusi outside the chief building. He first drives away the dogs, who come prow-ling about, snuffing the4 air sus piciously, and has them shut into their room opposite the huge refectory. Then he marshals the little company 01 inter national tourists in line before the mys terious door, and opens the chamber of honors. The keen mountain air mshes in, and presently you are conscious of a faint, sickly odor not strong enough to be repulsive, but eminently suggestive of death. Then, as you stand there neer ing with strained eyeballs into the dark ness, you become vaguely conscious that . face' is looking at you. I defy any one who is posseted of the smallest grain of imagination to see that mysterious face growing slowly out of the obscurity with out a sudden sinking of the heart and a chill which no effort of the will can sup press. It is the face of a woman and yet of a ghost; a kind of corporeal pres ence divested of life and yet so horribly like life that you are almost afraid the bony aud skinny frame to which it be longs will arise and stretch out its dread ful arms, aud drag you down into the depths which you so instinctively shun. The good brother does not say anything; he watches the effect of this curious spec tacle upon you. Pretty soon you can discern that the face belongs to the body of a woman aud that this woman is clasping to her breast the form of a tiny babe. The mother is seated on the ground, and appears to be dazed by the light pouring down into her darksome habita tion. But oh! the horror of her face! Here is death without a decay; here, in this wondrous air, on this pass more than eight thousand feet above the sea level, putrefaction is unknown; uud bodies found iu the snows in winter or after the white shroud has melted away from the bosom of nature in the spring are preserved entire so long as the monks care to keep them. Thegrimness of the spectacle is enhanced by the fact that nearly every body found is contorted, twisted, strained and knotted in fantastic shape. Now aud then one which bears all the appearance of tranquil sleep is brought iu; but in most cases there are indications that man and woman, in their battle with nature, fought hard.and desperately and refused to be overcome until every particle of force was ex hausted. The brethren gather up the bodies with tender care and place thei 1 in tho dead-house in the usually vain hope that some relatives may come to recognize them. Where is the father of the child which this strange spectral mother clasps in her arms? What was the history of the woman who had thus wandered in the wild winter from the Rhone valley toward tho kinder and warmer Italian slopes ? Perhaps her hus band was with her and perhaps his body now lies at the bottom of some prec ipice where even the 'pious monks of Saint Bernard" cannot find him or per haps he is here, in the dead-house; perhaps that prostrate body, seeming to grovel on the rocky floor, is his. The peasants rarely carry any paper which can completely identify them, and some times the unfortunates found dead in the pass led such wandering lives going to Switzerland for harvest work in the summer and to Italy when the winter nips them that their passports even give no clew to to their birthplaces or native villaires. Cor. Boston Journal. Stickers." The independent voter is responsible for a great many things in modern poli tics, lie not only refuses to be tethered within party lines, but he establishes a little party of his own. When he spies the name of a man on a regulation ticket, and knows that the man is unfit for therottiee he is named for, he re solves himself into a parjy of one.and sets about to defeat that candidate. Years ago, when the independent voter was as scarce as a hen's teeth, almost, he con tented himself with occasionally drawing his pencil through the name of an objec tiouable candidate and writing the name of a suitable person for the oflico on the margin of the ticket. Political man agers cut the margins of their ballots down so close that there was no room for the independent voter to be J inde- lendent. From this and a number of ike causes sprung the '"sticker," or "paster," the convenient little bit of paper that has been such a power iu the la: d and such a deadly enemy to unfit and unpopular nominations. They are no new thing, but there are a thousand tried now where there formerly were ynly ten. It's a great knack to print a political sticker as it ought to be. The paper has to be made specially for It, of strong fibre, the gum should be of a clean sort that a person can wet with his mouth without poisouiug him. or with out leaving an unpleasant taste on the tongue, and then it must be very adhe sive or it can be pulled oft" without spoil ing the ballot. See here; I'll put this sticker on the ballot, and it won't be there thirty seconds before the surface of the ballot with the name of the candi date pasted over will come off with it." He did so, and sure enough the paper of the original ballot was fairly split in the attempt to tear it off the sticker. "That sticker means business, you see." "The demand for stickers must be very large?" "Yes. In the State election for 1881 I figured up about 8,000,000 stickers were printed. Every candidate, and and a great many friends of candidates order them, both Democratic and Re publican. Eight millions look very large, but when one man alone orders 500,000 it counts up. But I doubt if there ever was as many 33 25,000,000 or dered at one time, as I saw by an item in one of the papers." "The sticker hai arrived to the dig nity of special machinery for making it, has it not?" "Yes. It is quite a simple thing to print a sticker, but to put it in conveni ent shape, all cut, ready for use, special machinery has to be used, a machine that will cut a hundred thousand at once. That's a good deal better than slitting them up with a scissors, one at a time.'7 Inquiries '.in rather large printiug es tablishments showed that the political sticker has grown not only to be a power in the land, but a source of profit to the printer. There is another matter connected with the "sticker" that is a trifling an noyance. It's common use so "mixes up" the ballots that on the night after the election it is a most puzzling job to sort and count them. This frequently causes delay in getting news, but the in dependent voter cares not for that. He is simply bent on voting as he pleases, and the sticker helps him to do it. Bos ton Qlobe. At a hotel in Oswego, N. Y., the other day, a couple from the country of Milesian extraction took seats at the dinner table. Directly after a young couple seated themselves opposite and the young man took a stalk of celery from" the dish and commenced eating it The old lady opposite looked at him a moment with an air of disgust and then nudged her husband and said in a stage whisper: "D'ye moind the blackguard atingthebokay?" Chicago Times. An Indianapolis woman, asking foi a divorce after twenty-eight months of married life, says of her husband: "Of his home he made a prison, of his wife a prisoner, and of himself a prison guard." Indianapolis Journal. m There are thirty-two Episcopal newspapers in the United States. FARM a!TC VIKb'SlDB. Keep all stock thriving by giving a stable' ration of some kiuu and uotby feeding the meadows. When the cold storms come give the animals shelter and extra grain rations to keep up the hoat Do not let the an'm lis take this fuel from the fat already s'ored up, as it is a practice that no stockman can afford. Mirror nil fanner. Ham cooked iu cider: Put a pint of cider and a cup of brown sugar into enough water to cover the ham; boil three hours, or till theskin will peel off easily .', Remove the skin, cover the ham with a crust of sugar, and bake in a slow oven three hours." Dissolve a cup ot sugar in a pint of ridr And baste tho ham frequently while baking. If the cider is verv sweet, lists less sugar. Chicago Journal. To fricassee chicken cut it up and boil with one or two sli es of pork, in enough water to cover the chicken; fry some pork, and when it has cooked a little, drain the ehirki-u r.n.l fry it with the pork until nearly browned; then take the broth and pour It into the friug-pan with the pork, and make a -gravy, thick ening with brown flour; season well and pour over the chicken. Chicago News. The Agricultural Department at Washington esti 1 atas the shortage of the hog crop in the givat ho-raising States as follows: " In Kentucky the de crease from last year, as returned by our correspondents, is 25 per ceut; 29 in Ohio; 25 in Indiana; 24 in Illinois: 20 in Iowa; 20 in Missouri. The decrease is but five per cent, in Kansas and two in Nebraska.'" It also says there is a small decline in the South and in thJMiddle States. If there are fence corners or other places about the farm where weeds are 'rowing they should be moved out to prevent the seeds fnmi being scattered to adjoining fields. Farm fences afford one of the most common sources for nveed distribution, and it is poor policy to allow the seeds to mature and become scattered to the detriment of tho adjoin ing land. Pasture land, too often pro duces heavy growths obnoxious weeds which should be cut before maturing their seeds. Country Gentleman. An almond sponge-cake mav be a novelty to some one. It is certainly a very delicate and nicely flavored cake. Half pound of sugar, live eggs; beat the velks first, and add the sugar lo them gradually, then beat the whites to a stiff froth and add; then sift in flour enough to make a batter of medium stiffness, flavor with almond extract, and. before putting it in the tin, butter a paper well and line the tin, and on the bottom put at intervals bits of almond, which yoi have blanched by pouring boiling water over, and after removing the brown skins cut in small pieces, theu pour the batter over till the tin is about half-full. Bake for an hour in a slow oven. iVr. Y. Post. How to Locate Liness in a Horse. In examining a ca-e of lameness, we should, if possible, first see the horse in the stable, and without disturbing him, observe whether he points a foot, and in what particular manner he so favors it. We should then have him led from the stable and trotted gently in hand on a hard road or pavement, giving him his head at the time. Having thus ascer tained what leg he is lame in. we should proceed to discover the actual seat of the mischief. For this purpose, the finger and thumb should be carefully passed down the leg. from the knee to the foot, to ascertain if there be any un due heat, or enlargement, or tenderness from pressure; wo should also feel care fully the front and sides of the pat terns, as well as round the coronet. If a splint be the cause of lameness, the horse will evince considerable pain when it is pressed, and so likewise will he in lesions of the sinews. Supposing that we have found no suf ficient cause of lameness above, we must now direct our attention to tho feet. In nearlv every case, unless the mischief should be very clearly ex liibited elsewhere, it would be advisable to remove the shoe; the foot should then be paired out, to ascertain if there be any wound or bniise in it The nail holes should be carefully examined and pressed with pincers, or gently struck with a hammer, to discover any symp toms of tenderness; the heels of the sole should be pared down, aud the parts struck gently with a hammer; this is preferable to pressing the bar and crust with the pincers, as "is usually done, for this often produces pain in some feet, when there is no disease, and often fails in causing pain in others, when there is a deep-seated corn. After paring awhile, the smith will very probably say there is no corn; but we must not be satisfied until we have pared almost to the quick. If the horse be very lame from a corn, he will almost always favor the foot; but in so doing he will not, however, extend his limb out straight to its full length, but will elevate the heel without extending the foot very far, which will give a knuckling appear ance to-the limb. Should none of these symptoms be exhibited, we must con sider the disease to be deep-seated, and then it is all-important to ascertain if the animal points his foot, for, if such is the case, in all probability the cause of lameness exists in the navicular joint, supposing it was a fore foot we were ex amining. It will seldom be necessary to go through these various manipulations seriatim; we may sometimes pounce upon the seat of lameness at once, and very often delect it after a moderate ex amination; but there are cases that will demand our utmost attention and experience, and will often put to a se vere test the professional talents and (act even of tho most skilled veterina rian. Horses sometimes exhibit a slight lameness immediately after being shod, though quite sound before. Such cases may arise from the shoe being nailed on too tight, and are often relieved by re moving the shoe and re-applying it more gently; this lameness most frequently occurs in horses with very thin horn, and is ascertained by the manner in which it comes on, and the absence of any other visible causes. The shoe in such a ease may also have an improper bearing, pressing severely on weakspots, or on tlie sole or heels; or the heels or sole may have been pared too much, or unevenly. Persons unaccustomed to horses, will more frequently pronounce the wrong limb than the right in cases of slight lameness. The cause of their blunders may then be easily explained. They perceive that a horse drops the moment one foot comes to the ground, and they immediately conclude that that must be the lame one, fancying that he drops from tho pain received when it meets the f 'round; whereas the fact is, he treads as ightly as he can on the lame foot, and bears his whole weight on the sound one. Prairie Farmer. m m A Murderer's Plan for Escape De Bosnys, the tramp who lately mar rfed a widow in Essex County. New York, to obtain her property, and then murdered her, is still in the Elizabeth port jail, whence he recently made an ngenious attemjt to escape. He wrote an innocent letter which he handed un sealed to the sheriff and asked him to mail it to its address in this city. It was mislaid, and in finding it several days afterward, the Sheriff was amazed to read between the lines a second let ter, which had become visible during the interval, suggesting a plan of escape, asking aid and threatening himself. II was afterward ascertained that the mur derer had procured by some means Paris green and vinegar, with which he had mixed a first-rate invisible ink. 3STOTIOE Chicago Weekly News. -AKD '0L7US7S, USB, JOURUAL FOR $2.50 a Tear Postage Included. The OHIOA.GO WEEKLY NEWS is recognized as a paper unsurpassed in all the requirements of American Journalism. It stands conspicuous among the metropolitan journals of the country as a complete News-paper. In the matter of telegraphic service, having the advantage of connection with the CHICAGO DAILYNEWS. it has at its com mand all the dispatches of the Western Associated Press, besides a very extensive service of Special Telegrams from all important points. As a News-paper it has no supe rior. It is INDEPENDENT in Politics, presenting all political news, free from p artisan bias or coloring, and absolutely without fear or favor as to parties. It is, in the fullest sense, a FAMILY PAPER. Each issue contains several COM PLETED STORIES, a SERIAL STORY of absorbing interest, and a ricn variety of condensed notes on Fashions, Art, Indus tries, Literature, "science, etc., etc. Its Market Quotations are complete, and to be relied upon. It is unsurpassed as an enterprising, pure, and trustworthy GENERAL FAMILY NEWSPAPER. Our special Clubbing Terms bring it within the reach of all. Specimen copies may be seen at this offlctr Send subscriptions to this office. 1870. 1383. THK aliwfbns journal li conducted as a FAMILY NEWSPAPER. Oevi-ted to the bes"t mutual inter ests 1 its readers ami it-, publish ers. PuMt-liedat l'iIiiMi!.lMattc count), the c litre of tin- agricul tural po.titn . f Nfbr.i-.k-.!, it "..irsi! by hundred- o! people o.-t whoaie looking toward.-' "N"'bra-I;:i as their future home Its -ubr.eribers in N'ebraka are t'ae -tauueh. olio portiou of the community, a is evidenced In the fa. t lhat the lutlKX u. lias never r ntaiiic-d a 'dull" igaiiist thi-i'j. .i:: I by the other fift toat ADVERTISING In its i-t!'imn jinais "rins its reward. Knsinrss is ;i;-inrss, ami those who wish to reach the solid people of renti.il Nebraska will ilnd the eoliiuui-' the Journal a splendid medium. JOB WORK Of all kind neatly and iiiii-kly done, at fair price-. TT.is specie" of printing i- nearly al-v.iys want eil in a hurry, and, knowing thi fin't, we have so provided for it that we can l'uriii-li envelopes, let ter heads, bill .head-, circulars, posters, etc., etc., on ver) short notiee, and promptly on time as we promise. SUBSCRIPTION. 1 copy per annum 2i0 " Six month 1 00 " Three months, ' Single copy sent lo any addresb in the United States foro'cts. M . K. TUENER & CO., Columbus. Nebraska. EVERYBODY Can now afford A CHICAGO DAILY. THK CHICAGO HERALD, All the News ever day on four lare pages of seven columns each. The Hon Frank W. Palmer (I'oitmaster of Chi cago), Kditor-in-Cliief. A Republican Daily for $5 per Tear, Three mouths, $l.ii(). One month m. trial ." cents. CUT a A C-i o "WEEKLY HERALD" Acknowledged by everybody who ha read it to be the best eight-page papei ever published, at the low price of 81 PER YEAR, I'ostage Free. Contains correct market reports, al! the news, and general reailint; interest ing to the fanner and his family. Special terms to agents and clubs. Sample Copies free. Address, CHICAGO HERALD COMP'Y 120 awl 122 Kiith-.iv., 10-tf IiICAiO. ILL LUERS & H0EFELMANN. DKAI.KKS IN WIND MILLS, AND PUMPS. Buckeye Mower, combined, Self Binder, wire or twine. Pumps Repaired on short notice J3"0ne door west of Heint.'s Druj; Store, 11th Street, Colutnbii-, Neb. 8 $72 A week made at houi by the industrious. He.-t business now before the public Capital not needed. Ve u ill tart you. Men, women, boys and t;irls want ed evervwhere to work for us. Xow is the time. You can work in -pare time, or irive your whole time to the business. N'o other business will pay you nearly as well. No one can fail to make enormous pay by en-raying at once. Costly outfit and terms free. Money made fast", easily and honorably. Address Tklk & Co", Augusta, Elaine. 31. j. THE- DRUGS, MEDICINES, Etr, -o doww, mm k go., OF niK Gckmbus Drug Stcr a Have the pleasure of offering t their customers, in connection with theii c mpli te line of HP SMI Ml" 1 A INt f Propiietory articles not ex Hid ! au . f the eastern maniifacto ii. A few of the articles on our i-t .ice n 3?" A powerful alterative and blood puriti-M. D.W.&Co'sCoTigh Syrup. o Concentrated Essence of Ja maica Ginger. SASSAFRASSO, tSDTThe most wonderful remedy ever discovered fur chapped hands, lips, .tc. OUR EQUINE POWDERS. iC-For stock, are without an eijual iu the market, and many others not here mentioned. All the alntve goods are warranted, amt price will (e refunded if satisfaction it not itiven. :t7-:!m TRAVEL ONLY VIA THK BSHLIMGTOV & MO. SIV.BAILBDAD KNOWN AS KOK ALL roiNTS EAST AND WEST. Daily Express Trains are now run to Chicago, Omaha & Denver Via LINCOLN, AND MKTWKEN Kni.n4Mty, Atchison & Denver. -BETWEEN- OMAHA AND LINCOLN. All Through Trains are equipped with new anil elegant Pullman Palace Cars. Day Coaches and It.iue aud Kxpresa Cars of the latest design. Through Tickets at lowest Eates Are on sale at all principal! Stations, where passengers can obtain information as to Routes. Hates ami Connections, nuil can secure Sleeping-Car accommodations. Quick Time, Sure Connections, No Delays, As trains rim to and from Cuion Depots at all principal point. . .. Fusti. -J Omaha. Nkb. Special Announcement! BEDUCTIOJi IN PRICE. We oiler the .Journal in combination with the ljirc Agriculturist, the best farmers magazine in the world, for a year, which includes postage ou both. IX ADDITION, we will sendree to ev ery person who takes both papers, a .Magnificent Plate Jingraving ot'DL'lMtK'S last tireat Tainting, "i: 'I'llK .11 KA OW, i.',w ou exhibition iu New York, and ottered for sale at $.,000. Tue eminent Artist, X. S. CIIUIU'II, writing to a friend in the country last October, thus allude to this Picture: 1 was delighted this morning to see olfered as a Premium a reproduction of a very beautiful Picture, IJf XIIK .UKAIXmV by Dupre. This Picture i- an Kducator " This superb engraing 17 by 12 inches, exclusive of icide border, is worth more tnan the cost of both .Journals. It is mounted on heav Plate Paper, and sent securely packed in Tubes made expressly for the purpose. When to be mailed, 10 cents extra is required for Packing, Post age, etc. ISTSubscriptions may begin at any time, and the Agricultuiist furnished iu German or English. 010111 nun BUBLINGTON ROUTE r xl y
