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THE JOURNAL.
WEDNESDAY, FEB. 23, 1683.
fctertl at tho Pxi:5:sf Cchsta. "
elut sattir.
ir THE PAWN-SHOP DOOR.
tn the winter morning-, early when only !
were astir, . .
. .... ak..tM3 wam ,, f thA windows.
and the snow lay white in the streeU, t
At the wheels of travel and traffic were do-j
ginning to wmzz ana wnirr,
And the sunshine drove the shadows lis
" ghosts from theirdark retreats.
Prom out the tenement houses, from cellars
so cold and damp, iM
that the humid blossoms of death gleam
whitelyon wait and floor.
The watchful sentinels stole away iroa tae
waking camp, ,
4nd, shivering: with cold and hnnger. ap
peared at the pawn-shop door.
There was one in her widow'sweeds who had
striven from day to day .
Co keep her children in comfort, with plenty
of food to car, . ..
But the rent would be due to-morrow, no a
not the money to pay. .,
And oh. the disgrace and horror of being
turned into the street! fci.
Bhe looked about in her anguish for something
that she could spare ... .
From her tcuderly hoarded treasure a
scanty yet precious store
And bearing away the jewel that proudly she
used to wear,
n the dusk of a winter morning she stood at
the pawn-shop door.
There were others who gathered round her,
whose races too well betrayed
The shrine nt which they worshipped, the
vice that lial bitten in
..Through the flbre cf all their being, till un
Mushing!' they displayed .
fhe tokens of their enslavement, ta UunU
und traces of sin. r
They arc regular comers, by th demon 01
drink accursed.
The lazy and tattered "bummers, albeit of
breadth and brawn.
Whoaredrivenat early morningby tht scourge
ot a terrible thirst
Ah! little have they to hope for whose souls
arc already in pawn!
But there outside of the group, with fingers
aching and red,
A little boy with a bundle slips into a vacant
place; -
There are no shoe? on his feet, not much or a
capon hU !nad.
And th great liur tears run over the shrunken
and careworn face.
He 5s hungry and cold and wretched; there Is
n Urtiu the hearth.
Not a bit of bread in the cupboard, nor even
a scrap of meat;
And the little brothers and sisters are strangers
to joy and mirth.
When they're pinched by the cold of winter
and haven't enough to eat.
Ah! sad enough is the picture and little we
dream or know
Of the terrible storms encountered, the
anguish and sore distress
Of many we daily meet in our journeying to
and tro.
Whom we never have thought to pity, and
never have cared to bless.
And driven before the wind of a merciless,
cruel fate.
Like essels shorn of their sails and urged to
a meky shore.
Bereft of their early hopes, and swept from
their high estate,
Pitirul wrecks! they stranded close to the
pawn-shop door.
Josephine lj!larJ, in Harptr's WMtf.
TIIE DROP OF DEW.
CIIAlTKtt I.
Visitors to the ancient City of Klop
6tag will be attracted by the elegant
five'-siiled bay window, more spacious
than many u'betl-chaniber. It is built
of heavy stone on a level with the
second sftory, supported by a stout pe
destal w Inch rested on the ground. Un
der the .sashes were live panels, daintily
sculptured in high relief, and worn by
the rain until only the soul of the figures
seems left in their refined and spiritual
outlines. Above them are lucent panes
in aipia marine, the windows termina
ting iu Gothic arches.
The house is even older than the
window. It was formerly a chapel or
parsonage, but subsequently owned by
the famous artist, Kerr Flamensbeck.
In the window, a few years since, sat
a young man talking with the painter's
daughter.
Katrina, dearest, it is cruel. I will
not obey. It is senseless. It is the
same as deimng me forever. That is
what it means.1
"Perhaps so," whispeied the tall,
ffraeeful Katrina, with glorious, star
ike eyes, a head poised like Juno's
upon full, sloping shoulders, a mouth
betraying vivacity, refinement and beau
tiful. glowing health of body and soul
in the red and finely curved lips. ''Per
haps so,'' she said: "but what can I do,
dear M:i? I cannot make of you what
he asks; I cannot force him to think
you what he says j'ou must be. I love
you, dear Max; 1 always will love you;
and 1 believe that you can work and
study until you satisfy his caprice."
"I will for your sake dearest Katrina,
pledge my "whole soul to the task,
though I grow faint at the thought of
accomplishing it. He is now the great
est painter iu the land. He inherited
Ids art from his father. When only ten
years old he could handle his brush bet
ter than most men. He has been at it
forty y':irs, and now he demands that
the young man, for only youth should
be wedded to such a beauty" she let
him kiss her hand in return for his com
pliment "that the young man who
marries you shall know his art as well as
he himself has learned it. I say that it
is impossible; and he meaus by it that
you shall never marry.
"And what do you mean, my be
loved?" she asked.
"I mean you shall," he said, passion
ately. "I will go away and absent my
self "for year-." After a pause he added:
"I will return, and he shall jrivc you to
me."
He smote his hands together, arose
and paced the room. His face was radi
ant with his purpose, and there lurked a
mirthful hopefulness around his ejes
which was very contagious aud made
Katrina smile.
"Ah. me." she said, "you'll be so suc
cessful aud so great that you1 11 sconi the
gift even after you have won it, like the
knight who picked up the glove when his
lady threw it into the arena where the
lions were. He would not have a love
that was willing to demand so much of
him."
His only reply was a kiss upon ker
forehead. He arose to g.
"I mu-t say farewell, my darling.
Thive var.s from to-ttay I will meet you
in this window and ask you if you still
love me. and if you wish I should make
good inv claim to vour hand before vour
father."
.She faltered and turned pale at Uie
thought of tiie long separation. She
could not bear to face it-
"O, stay !" " she cried. 'Stay and defy
a harsh father. Xo, no, I do cot mean
that. (Jo and come back to me! .But
not quite yet: not quite yet!"
She clunjr to him: he folded herin his
arms, kissed her passionately and was
gone, a'most before she, stunned with
poignant grief at the cruel separation,
realised that he was not iu the room, uor
she in his dear embrace.
CHAPTER II.
The three years were nearly goo.
Katrina had waited and longed and
faithfully loved, as she thought. But
bhe hud not been tried. There came to
Klopstaga splendid artist, Herr Wolf-
faug "Mahler. Fifty years had whitened
is hair and beard, but only heightened
the warm, youthful color iu his cheeks,
like hot-house roses midst December
snows. His fame was almost equal to
that of Katrina's father. He had heard
of her beauty and of her father's jealous
desire to perpetuate his genius in his
posterit by marrying her to a great
artist since a male heir to his artistic
talent was denied him. The suitor was
gallant and witty and in everyway an
attractive lover.
Herr Flamensbeck," said ne, "I un
derstand you propose a very trying test
Co him who aspires to be your son-in-law.
But I will accept it. If I fail I
hall lose onlv what I do not now pos
sess: if Igain I shall gain what is well
" Wth aseverer trial than this.
You know the conditions," said the
onceited. gruft, old painter. " Itis
JSaSptuoas-in most to prewnt tfim
fffres as candidates."
Yes, t kaow them," said the other,
stoutly; "andthey are very severe. You,
yourself, are witness and advocate and
judge, all in one, and your pride is re
tninpil m a. hired attornev for you. Nev
ertheless, I will enter the lists. will
paint a portrait of your daughter that
will make von confess me your rival."
" Do it," said Flamensbeck, "aud she
hall be yours."
" When shall I begin?"
"Immediately."
I must have several sittings.
You can have them."
And so it was arranged that Katrina
should sit for her-portrait.
Herr Mahler wa? a skillful artist, but
the prize which was at stake embarrassed
as well as stimulated him. His fear of
failure made him dissatisfied and anxious
and he frequently obliterated his work
and began again. He insisted that
Katrina should not know the object of
the sitting; otherwise she might baffle
him. So her father trumped up some
excuse his anxiety that the famous
painter should paint her portrait and
she consented.
The artist's handsome face attracted
her at the very first, and his vivacity, his
knowledge of the world, his wit and an
ecdotes amused her. On his part, he
found himself more and more interested
in her, and was pleased that his dissatis
faction with his work would prolong the
agreeable sittings. The thought that
tfiey would come to an end greatly dis
tressed him, and he eagerly sought ex
cuses for multiplying them.
"The mouth." he would say, "lacks
the symmetry it should have. I must
have'one more sitting."
"But. Her Mahler," said Katrina. "it
will never be right, the way you go oa.
To-day it is too much down oa this side;
to-morrow it will be too far up; next day
it will be canted the other way. It is a
game of see-saw that you play."
"It is a flexible mouth," he answered.
"One day it says, 'ray pretty owner is
most sweet and amiable;' the next it
saya, 4she is coquetish aud shy.' How
can I in one day natch all the expres
sions of so changeable a face?"
"I thing you catch them and then let
them go.Herr Mahler." she replied,
archly, as if she saw through his ar
tific63 "Yes, but I feel sure I can cateh
them again," he replied smiling, but not
denying her accusation.
"But I do not understand why you
should want them at all. There is an air
of mystery which both you and my
father keep."
"I want them always," he said,
significantly. "And whether I get
them upon canvas or not, I want them
for myself, living; palpable, changing
every day."
She understood him, blushed and cast
down her ej'es.
"Ah!" she said, with a sigh in memory
of Max, which Herr Mahler supposed
was for himself. "You must work a
miracle. You must first put them on
canvas, so that no one can tell which U
Katrina and which is the portrait."
"I know it," he said, and feeling en
couraged to speak boldly, added: "That
is what I am trying to do now."
Katrina's heart fluttered. He was a
suitor! His fame would of itself give
life and beauty to the portrait when her
father comes to look at it which he would
not see in the work of an obscure artist.
"Ah, poor Max! dear Max!" she sighed
softly.
"I have many misgivings," he went
on, "in spite of" my lifelong experience.
If I could but count upon your help - '
She made him no pro Her, and he
painted on in silence.
"I have it!" he exclaimed suddenly.
"I have it."
Katrina started, and looked eagerly at
the canvas.
"Not here; not here," he said, "but"
tapping his forehead with the stem of
the brush "here. I shall need your
aid."
"Alas! what can I do?"
"I will tell j'ou." And he did.
She agreed to help him, and Herr
Mahler announced to the great painter
that next da' he would be ready to stake
all his happiness and his hopes upon the
portrait of his daughter. He was very
exultant and confident now that he had
secured her co-operation. And poor
Max was toiling and studying far away
to win this very prize which Katrina
was throwing into the stranger's lap.
CHAPrEtt III.
The great artist put bis studio at the
disposal of his would-be son-in-law and
rival in order that he might suitably
drape the portrait and give it all rightful
advantage by putting it in the best light
and introducing the father suddenly to
it, so that he should not be prejudiced
by seeing it under unfavorable condi
tions. "Glorious! It is she herself," cried the
entranced father. "I am outdone, lam
outdone! I have lost my fame and my
daughter at the same moment. I will
kiss and embrace her," he said, going
toward it as if he might.
"Ah! Herr Flamensbeck," exclaimed
Mahler seizing his arm, "not too near,
not too near, you'll destroy the illusion
as well as the picture, for the paint is yet
wet."
"True, true," said the other. I for
got myself in my transport. But where
is Katrina? She must see it. I shall
place her by the side of it, Alas! if it
be so fine that I shall be fonder and
prouder of her portrait than of her. Let
me go fetch her."
"O. do not go!" cried Herr Mahler.
"I think she is u t in the house. But if
she is let tc fetch her. Let me show
her to herself, face to face, and do you
stay and gazo upon it, and then I will
bring her to you and will kneel before
you and I will say, "forgive me for paint
ing such a picture, but her loveliness in
spired me."
"That is well," said the father, "Go!"
Herr Mahler went to the house ad
joining the studio, but not finding Ka
trina, came back. He had scarcely
opened the door when Flamensbeck
pounced upon him and choked him until
he was nearly black in the face, heaping
upon him the worst names he could re
member in his native tongue. Then he
thrust him through the door and would,
have kicked aud pounded him into the
street, but suddenly reflecting upon his
conduct, he said, coolly:
"Xo, I will not disgrace myself."
He rang the bell, und a tall, Stout
footman appeared.
"Kick this scoundrel out of the house,"
he said, and went into his studio.
Katrina sat there pale and silent,
frightened at her father's wrath.
"O, father!" she cried, "lam sorry it
deceived you so. I thought you would
see through it, but I consented, only to
show you what a charlatan he is capable
of being."
When Herr Mahler left the room Herr
Flamensbeck had sat down in a chair
and begun to examine the portrait more
critically. "After all," he said to him
self, "it's not quite so tine as I thought.
The eyes are a little crooked, and Ka
trina's glance is a3 straight as the rays
of a calcium light. The mouth is drawn
a little to one side, and her lips are as
symmetrical as Cupid's bow. Good
heavens! the eyes wink, the mouth
twitches "
And almost to his horror at first, the
Iiortrait burst into a ripple of silvery
aughter that filled the room, and his
daughter stepped from behind the pict
ure frame, leaviu a large gap in the
drapery into which her face had been
cunningly inserted. At this moment
Herr Mahler entered aud received the
greeting already described. He had
time, however, to catch a glimpse of the
empty picture-frame, and was not at all
puzzled to know why he was treated
thus.
In spite of her natural regret at the
laugh handling Herr Mahler had re
ceived, she was in high glee over her
jaoeew in disposing of Max's rival, and.
sitting down, wrote her lover a full ac
count of it. But the course of true love
by no means smooth as yet
CHAPTER IV.
To Klop3tag suddenly came a popular
painter, whose art was said to be the
result of a series of tricks and illusions
more becoming a professed conjurer and
magician than a professed artist. In his
picture of "Bridal Veil Falls" a rainbow
was introduced athwart the delicate
gauze of mist and spray that enveloped
the dark brown rocks over which the
water did not so much tumble as sparkle.
It was charged but never proved that the
iridescence in his picture which seemed
to hover in front of the cascade on the
canvas was produced by a skillfully hid
den arrangementof prisms; and that the
effect of smoke and "ateam in his "Boil
ing Springs" was the effect of a magic
lantern behind a screen. But his mauy
admirers pooh-poohed these stories and
they never gained great credence, while
Monsieur Poissonier went placidly on
painting his wonderful pictures.
He opened a studio in Klopstag, and
scores of people flocked to see his works.
He was not old, but looked so. His
shoulders were crooked, his feet de
formed. His nose was so sharp and
curved that he looked like a bill hook,
ready to crop his bushes of mustache.
On each side sharp falcon eyes peered
out like mice in their holes.
One day he invited Katrina's father to
do him the honor of calling. He did so.
The crooked little artist sat painting a
landscape. The golden light of the set
ting sun gilded houses and trees and
mountain-tops; its rays fell softly upon
a group of golden-haired children at
play, touching their heads most ra
diantly. But the great painter did not
think much of it. Looking around the
room he saw a more beautiful real land
scape out doors through the windotv.
"Bah!" he said contemptuously to Mons.
Poissonier, "what are you smudging
away at that for, when Nature does so
much for you over there?" pointing to
the beautiful scene from the window.
"Copy that as it is and you'll be the
greatest living painter."
The crooked painter's black eyes
snapped, perhaps with anger, perhaps
with triumph.
" Will Monsieur Flamensbeck be so
kind as to go nearer to the window and
then tell me if ho thinks it better, or not
as" good?"
Flamensbeck did so. To his astonish
ment the landscape did not widen aud
the perspective change according to na
ture. He vent nearer and nearer. He
could almost touch the window-pane. It
was canvas. There was no window;
there was no outdoors. It was a picture.
Flamensbeck was silent a moment.
"The devil's in it I believe. With all
my art I could not do that," he s tid.
" Then I ask your daughter in mar
riage," cried Mons, Poissonier.
Flamensbeck again was silent. He
even shuddered. What, wed his peerless
child to this grimace and whim of nature
this spoiled and distorted pieco of hu
man pottery. The artist noticed his
hesitation.
" Does the great master refuse to keep
his pledges?" said the ugly man, sarcas
tically. "No," he said slowly, but with evi
dent disgust.
" I've worked long and hard for the
prize, and I leave it to your honor if I
should lose it."
The father went home and told his
daughter. She was in tears and con
sternation. She begged and pleaded.
But her father's pride in his word and
faith was stronger than his love for his
daughter, and he would not listen to her.
In despair she wrote to Max to come to
her. She had no idea what he could do
to save her, but if worse came to worst
she would lly from her father to his pro
tection. He came speedily; met her and
listened to her story, broken by sobs and
caresses.
" It is a trick. I have heard all about
him. I will uncloak the rascal," ho ex
claimed, kissing her.
Max, spurred by fear of losing his
Katrina, gave day and night to investi
ffation. He wenl to Poissonier's study
and very carefully examined the picture
in the absence of the artist.
"Ah! ah!" he said. "It's there you
are, you old rogue," although he wasn't
there at all.
He made further inquiries and investi
gations, noted closely the habits of the
ugly artist, and at dead of night effected
an entrance iuto the building adjoining
the studio.
"I should like to see the picture for
which I am to be sold," said Katrina to
her father. "Perhaps it will give me a
new idea of how much 1 am worth."
Her father took her to the studio.
Mons. Poissonier met them at the door,
stooped and kissed the hand of his be
trothed. When he withdrew it she wiped
it on her handkerchief with an expres
sion of disgust.
"We came to see the picture," said
Herr Flamensbeck, looking toward it.
It was gone.
"Ah!" said Poissonier, embarrassed,
"I did not like the frame. I have sent
it out to be framed anew."
"I have it with me." said Katrina, tak
ing something from her muff.
Both men stared at her; one with
fright and the other with impatient curi
osity. She showed them a glass slide on
which there was a stereoscopic picture of
the landscape and the window, and
tinted with great skill.
Flamensbeck looked with a black frown
at Poissonier.
"Explain. Monsieur!" he said.
"Ah, yes!" said Poissonier. "A copy
of my famous picture. A friend of mine
asked permission to copy it"
He smiled, showing mice-like teeth.
Katrina turned, went to the wall op
posite, and pulled aside the maroon
curtains looped up there. They covered
a small door like a pantry slide. On the
other side of it was a stereopticon, a
complicated form of the magic lantern.
"Let us go," said Herr Flamensbeck.
This fellow is played out."
CHAPTER V.
But though Max's rivals were thus
disposed of, his task was yet unfinished.
It was one thing to put them out of the
way. quite another to do what they had
failed to do. But he bided his time, bade
Katrina be of good cheer and wait a
favorable opportunity.
Herr Flamensbeck was painting the
portrait of the dashing and gay Countess
of Uudelsheimer. She was famous for
her beauty, for her caprice, her volatile
spirit her expensive caprices, her flirta
tions that caused plenty of gossip, her
varying and childish moods, from the
most extreme hilarity to tears aud pout
ing, for which, it was said, her husband,
the Count, was responsible, in chiding
her follies. .
The picture was almost done. It was
Herr Fiamensbcck's master-piece with
out doubt He was finishing it with
great care. Such splendid flesh tints,
glowing with the abounding life that
saturated every part of her; such glances
of the eyes, that seemed to challenge
the spectator to a conflict of wits and
left it satisfied that his achievement
acd hugging his triumph warmly to his
breast
Next morning as he came near it,
slowly absorbing its beauty and his
power to create it, as one sips a deli
cious wine, he noticed a curious and
hitherto unseen expression. The mirth-
fulness and gayety of the face were
tempered by another mood: a mingling
of surprise, vexation, triumph and
grace. There was piquancy and sauci
ness and defiance and pretty anger.
What has brought about this change?
As sura as he lived there was a drop of
water, which must have accidently
fallen upon the portrait, jnst under the
eve that suggested mv ladv. after a
slight storm with her liege lord.
Flamensbeck would have l7ea all hia
talent to have preserved that look. It
would carry him to the very heights of
fame, He seized a brush. Perhaps hs
could reproduce it. He studied it
carefully apprehended all the possible
effects, and theu proceeded to wipe the
drop of water away, preparatory to
painting a tear.
"Holy Moses and the prophets!" he
cried who has done this? He alone is
worthy to be my successor."
"Max did it,"" said Katrina, coming
from behind a lot of old furniture and
rubbish with which artist's , studios
are littered, dragging her lover by the
hand.
"So!" exclaimed the father; "then lie
is the one we've been looking for all
these years?"
"Yes," said Katrina, "the one yon
have been looking for, discovered him
long since."
cnAPTEi: vi.
"Come. Max," said his wife, three
months after their marriage, "you must
fo at it Father is grumbling that you
ave done nothing since that famous
morning. I can hear him say under his
moustache that you're a mountebank,
like those othera."
"And so I am," said Max, coolly.
"Dear Max, you don't mean to say
you don't know how to paint beautiful
pictures after all these years of absence
and work?"
"I doa'.t mean to say anything at all
about it. I can paint justoue thing."
"What's that?"
"A drop ofde-v."
"And that is all?"
"That is all."
"All those three years."
"L learned only that; but I can bothat
better than anybody, living or dead."
"Father will turn us out of the house
when he learns it"
"I am willing, so be it you go with
me. That is all that I learned to paint
it for."
Katrina was right The angry father
trundled them out of the house as soon
as he knew how limited the accomplish
ments of his daughter's husband were.
But it was the best thing that could
have happsned to him. For, spurred by
necessity, he began to turn his one talent
to account In the course of a year or
two Klopstag society wa3 fairly buzzing
with a new "specialty" in art. A dozen
pictures of the sort had bsen produced
and hadbecouiethe "rage." Everybody
wanted one. Competition raised the
prices to enormous figures, and Max
was both famous and rich. His father-in-law
became reconciled, especially
when a grandson appeared who bade
fair already in his youth to inherit the
talents of his father and the genius of his
great ancestor.
The fashion of Max's pictures, like all
other fashions, died out, and intime only
a few masterpieces remained in the
Klopstag gallery, where visitors may
now see them, if they will look sharp.
They are pictures of flowers, fruits,
branches, blossoms, twigs and leaves.
On each of these objects are one or more
drops of dew, so perfectly crystal and
pure, so fresh and moistureful that they
all look as if they had been painted at
suurise. These diamond dew-drops
suffuse the bloom and blushes of the
peach like the tear that trickled and
lingered on the cheek of the vexed
beauty; they shine in opalescent cluster?
on the gossamer wet stretched across the
sprig of currant bushes; the' drip at the
apex of green leaves; they refine even
the chaste hues of the lily and the rose.
The morals of this story are packed
into it as tight aud close as chestnuts into
a chestnut uurr, and equally hard to get
at; so it will scarcely be worth while tc
try. However, one may learn from it,
if "they have the time, that appearaucej
are deceitful, and that one talent is no!
to be despised, if you only make the most
of it. Paul Lincoln, in Detroit t're$
Press.
1 m
The Ancient Lannae of India.
Even' child now learns at school thai
English is an Aryan or Indo-European
language; that it belongs to the Teutonic
branch, and that this branch, together
with the Italic, Greek, Celtic, Slavonic,
Iranic and Indie branches, all spring
from the same stock, and form together
the great. Aryan or Indo-European fam
ily of speech. But this, though it is
taught now in our elementary schools,
was really, but fifty years ago, like the
opening of a new horizon of the world
of the intellect, and the extension of a
feeling of closest fraternity that made
as feel at home where before we had
been strangers, and changed millions of
so-called barbarians into our own kith
and kin. To speak the same language
constitutes a closer union than to have
drunk the same milk; and Sanskrit, the
ancient language of India, is substan
tially the same language as Greek, Latin
and Anglo-Saxon. This is a lesson
which we should never have learned but
from a study of Indian language aud
literature; and if India had taught us
nothing else, it would have taught us
mure than almost any other language
ever did.
It is quite amusing, though instructive
also, to read what was written by schol
ars and philosophers when this new light
first dawned on the world. They would
not have it; they would not believe that
there could be any community of origin
between the people of Athens and Rome
and the so-called Niggers of India. The
classical scholars scouted the idea, and I
myself still remember the time, when I
was a student at Leipzig and began to
study Sanskrit, with what contempt any
remarks on Sanskrit or comparative
grammar were treated by my teachers,
men such as Gottfried Hermann, Haupt,
Westerraann, Stallbaum, and others. No
one for a time ever was so completely
laughed down as Prof. Bopp, when ho
first published his " Comparative Gram
mar of Sanskrit, Zend, Greek, Latin and
Gothic." All hands were against him;
and if in comparing Greek and Latin
with Sanskrit, Gothic, Celtic, Slavonic,
or Persiau, he happened to have placed
one single accent wrong, the shouts of
those wlio knew nothing but Greek and
Latin, and probably looked in their
Greek dictionaries to be quite sure of
their accents, would never end. Dugald
Stewart, rather than admit a relation
ship between Hindus aud Scots, would
rather believe that the whole Sanskrit
language and the whole of Sanskrit lit
erature mind, a literature extending
over three thousand years, and larger
than the ancient literature of either
Greece or Rome was a forgery of those
wily priests, the Brahmans. I remem
ber, too, how, when I was at school at
Leipzig (and a very good school it was,
with such masters as Nobbe, Forbiger,
Funkhaenel and Palm an old school,
too, which could boast of Leibnitz
among its former pupils) I remember,
I say, one of our masters (Dr. Klee)
telling us some afternoon, when it was
too hot to do any serious work, that
there was a language spoken in India
which was much the same as Greek and
Latin, nay. as German and Russian. At
first we thought it was a joke, but when
one saw the parallel columns of numer
als, pronouns and verbs in Sanskrit,
Greek, and Latin written on the black
board, one felt in the presence of facts,
before which one had to bow. All one's
ideas of Adam and Eve, and the Para
dise, and the tower of Babel, and Shcm.
Ham and Japhet, with Homer and
iEneas and Virgil, too, seemed to be
whirling round and round, till at last
one picked up the fragments and tried to
build up a new world, and to live with a
new historical consciousness. Contem
porary Review.
Dr. Morell Mackenzie, a distin
guished London physician, prefaced a
recent lecture at a London medical col
lege by remarking that he thought tho
days for teaching by means' of lectures
were passed, except for clinics, now that
books are easily accewible.
PITH AXIl POHT.
Some one has discovered that Mrs.
Laugtry was born in the year , and
and is therefore years old. Norria
totvn Iferald.
Pails are now made of straw. We
wonder if that's where all the "straw
bai!" goes to, of which we hear so much?
Lowell (Jourier.
Are you a bull or a bear? Ex. Wo
couldn't bear to be a bull.and 'twouldn't
be bully to be a bear. Burlington
Ilawkeife.
The opossums of Hart County aro
so fat, says a good deacon, that they
leave greasy tracks where they walk.
Savannah Neivs.
A New York "critic" says that
when Mrs. Langtry "puts her foot
down it is there." Many persons, it
appears, have been laboring under the
erroneous impression that when she put
it down it wasn't there.
Are you afraid of the darkP" asked
a mother of her little daughter. "I waa
once, mamma, when I went into the
dark closet to take a tart." "What
were you afraid of?" "I was afraid I
wouldn't find the tvt.uPhilailelphict
Ledger.
The dre3303 of LoUia Paulina, the
rival of Aggripina, were valued at 82,
764,480, not including her jewels,
which cost as much more. It ha3 slipped
our memory whether Miss Paulina
was the daughter of a plumber or an
editor, but our impression is that she
was. Norrialoion Herald.
Sings a sweet poet:
Tilt tars are sweet at eventide,
Hut cold and tar a -ay.
Which shows how much a poet knows
about botany. The stars are far away,
we admit, but cold? Not very cold.
The poet who puts a star in hia pocket
and tries to walk away with it, will
make up his mind to steal a stick of
phosphorous the next time, and cool off.
Durdetie.
A f .shion journal says: "The largo
foitrageiirs and frondchourijs are very
becoming to slight, youthful figures."
H'ni ; we always thought they were be
coming to such figures; but for embon
point fiiures of a conundrum age tho
fifteenab'Mngeres and hloivlfahorgcois are
more en reals and recherche. A newspa
per man would feel lost if he didn't un
derstand French. Norristown Herald.
A philosopher once Found u Wom
an weeping over the Grave of her child.
"How foolish of You to Weep," said he,
"for, had the child lived, he might have
become a Poet." Hearing this, the
Woman dried her eyes and Went on her
way Rejoicing. This Fable Teaches that
we should not Repine before consider
ing what tlie Future Might have Reen.
Denver Tribune.
SCIENCE AXI) INDUSTRY.
Lord Houghton's newly-purchased
estate iu Florida comprises 00,000 acres.
Lord Houghton is largely interested in
sugar culture in Jamaica.
The waste of the wild cocoons,
gathered in the woods of China, Japan
and Australia, is made into felt one
half the size of hair felt, aud is used for
the manufacture of hats and for fur
nishing purposes.
A Wilke.sbarre paper asert? that
it takes a ke of powder to mine a ton
of coal, but the Scranton I'ep'Jilicun
wants it to explain, if so, the fact that
a T:eg of powder costs more than the
mine price of two tons ot coal.
Miny an injured workman's life has
been lost through his frightened com
rades' inability to perform a simple
operation. An Ambulance Association
in Glasgow has begun a useful wors by
establishing courses of plain lectures
for operatives, showing what ought to
be done at once with a bleeding artery
a burned limb, a half-drowned body,
etc.
Fourteen factories, located chiefly in
New England, supply this country with
pins, the annual production of which for
several years past has been about seven
millions. Exportation of American pins
is confined to Cuba. South America,and
parts of Canada. England supplies al
most the whole world outside of the
United States, although her pins are no
better than the American. The ma
chinery and material used in the manu
facture of American pins are entirely
the product of American resources.
Hard-wood blocks mu3t now be
used by the workmen iu Dantzig to hold
the amber when they are removing the
outer, weather-worse portion of that
prized fossil gum. Formerly the cnide
mass was held by the left band in a block
of lead. This was done for the purpose
of preventing a dulling of the edges of
the knives. But lead-poisoning of the
men and women engaged in the industry
ensued, as cases of the peculiar colic
caused by that metal and other symp
toms abundantly proved, and an of
ficial investigation has compelled the
abandonment of lead in the dressing of
amber.
Flour is peculiarly sensitive to the
atmospheric influences, hence it should
never be stored in a room with sour
liquids, nor where onions or fish aro
kept, nor any article that taints the air
of 'the room in which it is stored. Any
smell perceptible to the sense will be
absorbed by the flour. Avoid damp
cellers or lofts where a free circulation
of air can not be obtained. Keep in a
cool, dry, airy room, and not exposed
to a freezing temperature nor to intense
summer or to artificial heat for any
length of time above seventy deg. to
seventy-five deg. Fahrenheit. It should
not come in contact with grain or other
substances which are liable to heat.
Flour should be sifted and the particles
thoroughly disintegrated and then
warmed before baking. This treatment
improves the color and baking proper
ties of the dough. The sponge should
be prepared for the oven as soon as tlm
yeast has performed its mission, other
wise fermentation sets in and acidity re
sults. A merican Miller.
The Moon and the Weather.
A great many people believe the moon
has more or less to do.with the weather,
and they watch the changes of that
luminary and from it judge of what the
weather'is to be.
Some persons believe if the moon
changes at certain times the weather for
the next seven clays, or until the moon
changes again, will be so and so. For
instance, if the moon's change takes
place between the hours of twelve and
two o'clock in the morning, then the
next seven days will be good weather
and so on throughout the various hours
of the day and night. I have for some
time been in the habit of keeping a daily
record of the weather, and as I had just
heard it predicted that the seven days,
beginning with the 12th of October and
ending with the 19th, would be mild
weather because the moon had changed
about one o'clock in the morning, I took
our almanac and note-book and com
pared results. Going back with its be
ginning of the year up to this time, I
find the moon has changed thirty-eight
times. Out of these at the time of day
of change the weather changed seven
teen times, while the other twenty-one
times there wa3 no change of weather
at all. Now, these weather prophets or
moon believers, always anticipate a
change of weather when the moon I
changes. This rule does not hold good
as ithas failed more than half the time.
I kept an account a year ago last
summer at each of the moon's changes,
Dut as we nau suca an unpruceuemeu
long drought I hardly considered it a fait
test; bat niis year the weather has been
very changeable and I think the test
given a fair one. Cor. Prairie Farmer.
m
Brass bedsteads that were entirety
unknown in Americana few years ago
rapjdiyjgaiaiBmjf avor.
HOXE AND FARJf.
Keep all animals which are housed
scrupulously clean, well fed and wa
tered. Stock the farm to the fullest extent
with safety. R use all the food possible,
hay, grain, straw, fodder, then feed lib
erally but ctrefully.
The most successful breeders of
sheep in England find that good yes
even rather high feed keeps their sheep
in much better health than when they
are not so well cared for.
Do not put soap in the water with
which you wash the ghns on your bu
rciu;wath it with clear water with a
soft eloth; then polish it with a piece
of chamois skin. This removes lint and
makes the glass shine. xV. J'. Exami
ner. By all odds the cheapest and best
way to eradicate coram n hard wood
stumps, says the Pr-i-t'c d Fanner, is to
work the ground with a shovel plow,
sow buckwheat or plant corn until
seeded to tuii:hv, orchard grass and
clover, and pasture until tiie sturnp3 so
far dec iv that they can be pulled out by
hitchiug'a chain around the top when
the uround is wet in the winter or
fpring.
To wash a carpef, spread it where
yon can use a Ivmh, and scrub as you
would a lli.jr. Scrape one peck of Irish
yotato-'s into two pails of water and let
them tiud over niht; when ready to
.ise ad I in re walr and tvo ounces of
'.eef irt'.l. When d.y bru-h hard with a
urooni.
To clean marble, dissolve in water
to which lias been added one teaspoon
ftil of wa-hing sod.t, :i large lump of
Spanish whiting, making a paste ; ap
ply to the marble with a Ilium el cloth,
rubbing well, and leave, it on for some
time, and, if nec;s-ary, repeat the
process. Wash off thoroughly with
soap and watc, then dry and polish
with a soft duster. Detroit I'osl.
To prevent a horse being scared, if
disposed to h, when fir.-t put into har
ness without blinders, take him behind
the carriage and at the .sides, and let
him touch these with his nose and smell
them well. If curtains enclose the car
riage, as is usual iu a rockaway, lo-jsen
.md shake them iu the face of the hor.e :
then stand him fronting the carriage,
between the shafts, and if a buggy, raise
and lower the top, to accustom "him to
this. If these frighten him a little, re
peat till he gts completely over it anc
then attach him to the vehicle.
The Ased.
It is very dillicult for those of us who
have passed the landmark" of 'three
score years" to fully appreciate the iiU
portaut fact that we are growing old,"
that we are at least, physically break
ing down, losing most of the vivacitt
and vigor of youth. We no more cer
tainly incrcae in strength, from infanc
to manhood, rising to the highest point
of physical power, than we decline,
again " putting on childhood." Whe
we pass the dividing line, the life-forces
begin to flag, and we may as well accept
the position, conforming to the changed
condition, and prepare to avoid an un
necessarv violence to our powers, as to
ignore the fact, and take the consequen
ces. Little by little we recognize an
indisposition to engage in the less im
portant affairs of life, those demanding
the more vigorous efforts, the arause
aients, by far preferring the restfulness
of a quiet home. The powers of loco
:notion falter, the gait becomes more
and more moderate and assured, as if t3
remind us that we cm not bear the
activities of youth. The memory is less
and less retentive; it maybe to diminish
our cares, serve as a check upon our
activities, seeming to say ' Do thyself
no harm." Life seems more real, as
sumes a more serious aspect, substitut
ing a tleep, full, noiseless but powerful
stream for the joyous, rippling, restless
rill of youth.
He is wise who conforms to the
changed condition, reverently bjws to
the Creator's fiat, judiciously" using his
waning powers, with the same tender
ness and consideration that he would
the weakness of the first childhood.
Such are in a similar state with the
business man who finds his funds nearly
exhausted, compelled to practice the
most rigid economy.
It is but a little less than suicide to
attempt to retain the activity and vivaci
ty of youth, performing the labors
(physical) of other days. When the
step" is more measured, careful and
slower, from a natural impulse, it is
worse than folly to attempt to walk as
in early life. If we can not walk four
miles an hour, without undue fatigue, it
is sensible to be content with three, two,
or with a speed that does not fatigue.
All forced speed, all compulsory activi
ty, will prove, must prove, reactionary,
depressing, wasteful of vital force, re
sulting in premature decay, debility and
death. If a waning memory teaches
us that we can not bear the burdens of
other days, the cares, anxieties and per
plexities of business life, it is judicious,
nay, a duty, to transfer them to those in
the prime and vigor of life. When
trembling limbs remind us that the
muscles nave performed sufficient toil,
it is an imperative, duty to seek repose
and reasonable rest. If, in the absence
of the accustomed activity, the blood
ceases to flow with its accustomed
celerity, leaving the extremities cold, it
is judicious, imperative, to heed the
hints, and wear thicker and warmer
boots, supplanting the kid gloves by
sensible woolen mittens.
But the greatest folly, perhaps, is to
fail to note the fact that the digestive
powers have waned correspondingly,
and that, with diminished activity, a
less amount of food is demanded, and
that of a simpler character, easier of
digestion. While it is a well-known
fact that mauy, if not most men, who
.suddenly retire from active business hie,
soon die, it is safe to attribute a large
per cent, of these premature deaths to
repletion, plethora, over-taxing the di
gestive powers by taking the same food
that might have been appropriate dur
ing the more vigorous period of life.
To fret over our increasing clumsiness,
to "push," to compel ourselves to do
what seems a task, is to hurry ourselves
into the grave. Those who would have
a peaceful old age, reasonably free from
"pains and aches," must "take life
more easily," seeking comfort of mus
cles, brain, nerves and stomach. Golden
Rule.
k Great Need.
One great need of the South is a cotton-picking
machine. The West has
machines for planting, cultivating, har
vestin?r and threshing and shellinsr its
grain crop3 at an immense saving of
labor, but in the South every hber 01
the cottou crop of 7,000,000 bales has to
be picked from the bolls with human
fingers, and the cost of the work is esti
mated at .$50,000,000 a year. Repeated
attempts to invent a mechanical picker
have so uniformly resulted in failure
that planters have settled down in the
conviction that the thing is impossible
and the cotton crop must be picked by
hand forever. But the Charleston pa
pers are just now interested in a ma
chine, invented by a New Hampshire
man, a resident in South Carolina for
twenty-six years, which, it is predicted,
will be developed into the cotton picker
of the future. It is immature yet, and
works clumsily in the field, but it is as
serted that with a little alteration it will
Sick 3,000 to 5,000 pounds of cotton a
ay, doing the work of ten to fifteen or
dinary hands. If it can be made to do
this, it will be of immeasurable value,
a3 in some parts of the South a consid
erable part of the crop is lost every year
through want of labor to pick it. St.
Louis Republican.
3STOTIOEI
Chicago Weekly News.
-AND
C0L7U572, m. 101MLI
FOR
$2.50 a Year Postage Included.
The OHIOAGO WEEKLY NEWS ia recognized as a
paper unsurpassed in all the requirements of Americai.
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 DAILY NEWS, ithas at its com
mand all the dispatches of the Western Associated Press,
besides a very extensive service of Special Telegrams
irom all important points. As a News-pap6r it has no supe
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news, free from partisan 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 ST0R7 of absorbing interest, and
a ricn variety of condensed notes on Fashions, Art, Indus
tries, Literature, Science, etc., etc. Its Market Quotations
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an enterprising, pure, and trustworthy GENERAL FAMILY
NEWSPAPER. Our special Clubbing Terms bring it within
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run
(aluii(bus journal
is iuiiitueted a? 'i
FAMILY NEWSPAPER,
Devoted to the bet mutual int-r-iats
of its reader and it juidi-h.
er.-. Published aK'oluniiiu-.PlaUr
oounty, the t-en t re of tue aijrii-iil-tural
portion ofXobniska.it i-read
by hundreds of people tat u bo art
looking toward Nrbmska n Uieir
future home. Its Mibs.Tiber in
Xi:lra-.ka are the ituum-h. solid
portion of the oommuuit . i
evidenced by the fiet that the
Journal has never n.iituuit-d it
"ilun" against them, an I lv the
it'ir f-tct that
ADVERTISING
In its columns always brings it
reward. Hu-iness is business, nnd
those who wih to reach the solid
people of Central Nebraska will
rind the columns of the Jouhnal a
.splendid medium.
JOB WORK
Of all kinds neatly and :iiii-Uv
done. :it fair prices. This specits
of printing i nearly always uant"
ed in a hurry, and. knowing tui
fact, we have so provided for it
that we c.M furnish eti elopes, let
ter heads, bit! heads, circulars,
posters, etc., etc., 011 very short
uotice, ami promptly on time a
we promise.
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EVERYBODY
Can now anord
A CHICAGO DAILY.
THE
CHICAGO HEKALD,
All the New everv tlav on four larjre
najre-'of even columns each. The Hon.
Frank AV. Palmer ( Postma-t. r of Chi
cago). Editor-in-i'Iiief. A Pculdican
Daily for
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Three months $I..V. ne mouth ou
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OIIK'xVGO
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Acknowledged by everybody who has
rend it lo he the best eight-page papor
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Copies free. Address,
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120 ami 122 Fifth-av.,
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LUERS & HOEFELMANN.
DEAI.KKH IN
WIND MILLS,
AND PUMPS.
Buckeye Mower, combined, Self
Binder, wire or twine.
Pumps Repaired ou short notice!
2T0ne door west of Ileiutz's Drug
Store, llth Street, Coluuibus, Neb. S
fKN A week made at home by the
Mr J industrious. IJcst bus'iness
fn f fy now before the public Capital
not needed. Wk will start
you. Men, women, boys aud girls want
ed everywhere to work for us. Now is
the time. You can work in spare time, or
give your whole time to the business.
No other business will pay you nearly as
well. No one can fail to make enormous
pav. by engaging'at once. Costly outfit
and terms free. Money made fast, easily
and honorably. Address Truk & Co.,
Augusta, Maine. 31-y.
THE-
..JOHN HEITKEMPEH,
Kh'xrntli t . one lortr t--.t .f
COr.l'MKUS, XEUSltAMICA,
II. i on li:ttiil -I full .i-rt n.-iit t
'GROCERIES!
PROVISIONS.
CROCKERY & GLASSWARE
Pipes, Cigars and Tobacco.
ili.rh-t prit-e . ml fr uiitrv Produce.
(ioods delt i-vd 111 citv.
!
CI I V K M K A ' VI", T.!
.1011 111:1 ru:Tiij:if.
HENRY G-ASS.
TJiSr DRRTxVK RR !
COFFIN'S AXI) METALLIC CASES I
AXI DK.1LKK IN
Furniture. Chairs, Bedstead3. Bu
reaus Tables. Safe3. Lounges.
&c. Picture Frames and
Mouldings.
VSTJiepairinriof all kinds of Uvholsteni
Goods.
C-tf COLirilBUS. XB1.
TRAVEL ONLY VIA
THK
. A .
hN'OWX AS
VOll ALL TOINTs
EAST AND WEST.
Daily Express Trains arc now run to
Chicago, Omaha & Denver
Via LINCOLN,
AMI IIKTWKK.N
Kan.:irit , Atchisou .V Denver.
O KYI'ltENM TKUS laIIy
2 -BETWEEN-
OMAHA AND LINCOLN.
All Through Trains are equipped with
new and eley.nit
Pullman Palace Cars,
Day Coaches and H.iggage and Kvprcs3
Cars of the latest designs.
Through Tickets at Lowest Hates
Are on s:i,.:,t all principal Motions, where
passengers can obtain iiitorm ition as (..
Loutes l:ates and Connections, ami cm
secure Meeping-Car an nmmodatlons
Quick Time,
Sure Connections.
No Delays,
As trains run to and from Ciiion Hepols
at all principal points.
I. S. Kutiflsi.
UetiMT'k't A'fct.
o.m.uh, Nkii.
2y
Special Announcement!
SEDUCTION IN PEICE.
AVe iitler the Jolkxal in combination
with the American Agriculturist, the best
farmers magazine in the world, for 55
a year, which includes postage on both.
IN ADDITION, we will send free to ev
ery person who takes both papers, a
Magnitiecnt Plate Eugraviugof DLPI:K'
last Great Painting, l." XIIK .11 EA
1MWV n.w on exhibition in New York,
and otTcred Tor sale at $.7,000.
Tue eminent Artist, K. S. CHURCH,
writing to a fricud iu the eouulry last
October, thus alludes to this Picture:
I was deli-hted this morning to
see otl'ered as a Premium a reproduction
of a very beautiful Picture, I 'I'll':
ME-AUOW," by Dupre. Thi, Picture
is an Educator
This -uperh eiiirraUng 17, lj Vi incites,
exclusive of vide border, is worth more
than the cost of both .Journals. It is
mounted ou heavy Plate Paper, aud sent
securely packed iu Tubes made expressly
for the purpose. When to be mailed, lO
cents extra Is required for Packing, Post
age, etc.
larSubscriptions may begiu at any
time, and the Agricidturiat furniehed in
German or English.
BOEIITON
EOOTE
V
