1881-09-10; Clare County Press

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A Hewspaffiff for Gtae C©bidi%d
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VOLUME 1IJL
CLA1E, MICHIGAN, 5ATUBDAY, 3EFTEMBEB 10,188
I3as(?33 Hae% spo&ea by the SpiMft tif ifeath, ia t&o.
0alDs of a;W*M$ePi]grim,'£^ altered £iposi atrogodj
GaJlea " Hie WMfe Pflgrim," • and ■ priatcfi f oe feu
£tea$ time in. 4fe§irpresent tfosm.]
EEfeeall me not!  Men hare E?Iscalle$ me much; .
Mnvo given hatsh'jusmBB aasr-tarsherthongbtofc
wo,.   .": ".    :. '" ■' ' ',-"'■
SavHedan&'eTfBy-enfraatedEae,    ■<-•■•> »
SnflS me strange temples to aa unknown ©qfi;
33ten called me idol, devil, unclean thiiig,
And to rude insult bowed my godhead Span.
JHscall me not I jfos men hare marred my f dim,
&n& in the earth-born grossness of their thought
Move coldly modeled toe of their own clay,
ffhan fear to looK on 8int themselve&thliv© maSe.
EHseall me not! ye fcnow nfot what! Jim,
$> But ye shall see ms faca.to.face, andfenow.
I take ail Borrows from tho sorrowful,
And teach the joyful syhatit is to joy;
I gather in my land-locked harbor's clasp
3>he shattered vessels of a vexed world;
And even the tiniest ripple upon life
3s* to myeublime calm, sa tropic storm.
"When other leechcrafs fails tho breaking brain,
X, only, own the anodyne to still
Its eddies into visionless repose;
Tha face, distorted -with life's latest psngj
I -smooth, in passing, -with an angel-wing;
-  And from beneath the ^uiet eyelids steal
Anew and nobler beauty to the rest.
Belie me not! the plagues that walk the ecsrSs,
The wastiag pain, the sudden sgony,
limine and war, and pestilence, and all
The terrors that have darkened round my nemo—
These are the plagues of Lif e—they are not mino;
Vex. while I tarry, vanish when I come,
Instantly melting into perfect peace,
Ab at His word, whose Master-spirit! am,
The troubled waters slept on Galilee.
When I withdraw the veil that hideo my toss,
So melt I with a look 1316 iron bonds
Of the soul's, jailer, hard Mortality.
<jtently—so gently—like a tired child,
"Willi infold thee; but thou dxust not loofe
TJpon my face, and stay.   In the busy hsunto
Of human life—in the temple and the street,
And when the blood runs fullest in the veins—
"Unseen, undreamed of, I am often by,
Divided from the giant in his strength
But by the thickness of this misty veal.
Tender I am, not cruel; when 1 fe&#
The shape most hard to human eyes, and plucft
The little baby-blossom yet -unblown,
Tib but to.graf fc it on a kindlier stem,
And leaping o'er the perilous years of growth,
Uhswept of sorrow, and unscathed o£ wroag,
€2othe it at once wifh rich maturity.
'Tia I that give a soul to Memory,
3?or round the follies of the bad I throw
22jc mantle of a kind f orgetf ulness;
-While, canonized in deat love's salendar,
I sanctify the good for evermore.
Hiscall me not! my generous fultoesc Jenda
Home to the homeless; tothe friendleso, friends;
To the starved babe, ihe mother's tender br^^
Wealth to the poor, and to ths jEesQeas—Boat.
—London Srpectatck.
On a June morning in the year 1875,
Maj. Cyril Palmer and his friend, Amos
Maxwell, sat • in the hay window of the
former's country house, discussing a
certain weighty and private family a£=
_^^_:L(jt. ■uiuzz. yno tuaay sixes serving
an the l&te -wax—was a man- of 40,
"bronzed, wrinkled, a- trifle gray, stem-
featured and leaden-eyed. Though quite
wealthy, he affected a disorderly pov-
-jsrty of dress, arid indulged in those
habits of cheap dissipation which mark
the decadence of so many scions of- did
and influential country families.
Maswell-T-a small attorney, of political
aspirations—was a very different man in
©utward sejnblance -to the ex-officer,
though their characters were quite similar, in plaee of the Major's brown and
jtoughened face,, ornamented "with a
©oarse nose, a thick bristly mustache
arid those side whiskers-which define
the lower line of the inferior maxillary
bone, the lawyer presented a pale, sharp
countenance, smoothly shaven, and almost devoid of character. The habits
which had left the Major's cheeks and
nose empurpled by tiny veins, which remained injected with blood, had-in-*
creased the pallor of the attorney's face
and made it more striking by sundry
Mack specks and pimples, wliich were
horribly suggestive of mortification*. In
jjlaee of the Major's bull neck and rotund chest, his friend exhibited a throat
like that of a turtle, and a cavernous
thoracic region. Their dress, too, was
almost at opposite extremes. Th* offi-
■cer sported ihis clothes, and tiie lawyer
-was merely covered by his.   The former
. wore a dark-blue frogged frock coat,
gray pantaloons, a small glazed cap
"with gilt buttons, and carried a heavy
snalacca.cane^ while the latter wore a
conventional suit of rusty black, and a
silk hat; half covered with bombazine in
lieu of crape.    ,
"If Ihad the whole property," remarked the Major,. "I could live very
comfortably.   It is not enough for two,"
" however; and the sooner I can get Liz
married offithe better."
" But she won't marry against the provisions of vour excellent father's-will."
replied Maxwell,. " You can't make her
marry young I)avis unless she wants to.
Jf I understand it, she is to marry the
one you.approve of,, or lose her half of
the estate."  '   ' ■   •
"Yes:"; *.*,;..„;*
" Well, the chances are—you'il excuse
me—the chances are that she will outlive you twenty" years. .' If you die, the
whole goes toher, don't it?"
"Yes."
"Then what are you going to do about
it?   I don't-see how you can gain anything by her marrying." •
1* "I can't, upless I make her marry
somebody 1 disapprove of."
"She. isn't a "fool. She. won't marry
for love in a cottage, and lose her property by it."'/ *
Maj. Palmer was forced to confess that
he didn't think it likely. ' No one who
had &ver. seen the cold, still, dispassionate, totally selfish beauty of Elizabeth
Palmer could have puspected her of any
such weakness.
"I know," said the Major, /'that she
would give her right, hand to marry Bill
Davis, but--—"
VBut she wouldn't give $30,000."
"No; she's fond of him—very fond
of him—but she has sense with it; and,
■what is .worse, thinks that she will only
have to wait a couple of years to see me
torn iriy foes up; then she'll marry
whom she likes, and have the whole pile
to herself: 'Can't'get ahead of these
women. 'There isn't any such thing in
the book."
" Fotunlesa you come to life after sh©
msmes, arid object to her choice."
"By Jove 3 Amos, I believe you hit
it,   Can't I fix that?"
•'* What do you mean ? w•
"Go off and leave a will; get some
fellow to swear Fm. dead; let hes mairy
Bavis, and then turn up unexpectedly
and rais© thunder with the whole
fehingi" "■ ..;';   '
" Too risky.   It might pay to let on
that you are dying, and trust to luck for
her  to   anticipate yonr  death.    Xon
might   li©   unconscious—non   compos
mentis, or something of that sort—for a
few weeks, and be unable to say anything about the marriage.   Then, just
before the ceremony, you can get well
enough to express an opinion against it,
and, by virtue of  your guardianship,
claim that she has forfeited ail right to
the  estate.    She  needn't hear of it,
though, till the knot is tied."
"Can that be put through legally ?'*
" Yes, by the aid of a Httle money!"
" It will be worth five thousand dollars
to you if you can do it."
"I can try it, anyhow."
"Amos, you're a trnmp J You and I
were always good. Irienas, even wnen i
used to lick you at school; and we ought
to give each otnei: a lift whenever we can
—eh?"
"Yes; I will do all I can. It will be
a slippery business, but I think I can do
it."
"Good! Lest us haye a glass of
brandy and water on *it. My hand
isn't very steady this morning, and I
need a little something to regulate my
nerves.".
A few days after this, Cyril Palmer
informed his sister that he felt " very-
queer," arid was going to New York to
consult a physician. lie had been threatened with an attack of mania a potu,
and she naturally supposed that, as he
still drank excessively, this tendency-Was
returning. It is numiliating to my nu-
manitarian instincts to be obliged tb confess that her only thought was of the
probability of her speedy acquirement
of her own liberty and her brother's
share of the property.
A letter from the city—received a fortnight later, and signed by a somewhat-
celebrated, though unscrupulous, medical practitioner—conveyed her news of
the Major's severe and perhaps dangerous illness. • She was warned that he
might not live but-a few days longer;
and, although he could not see any one
save his nurse and -physioian just then,
she must hold herself ready to visit him
xo* f 'r^tajOT.'tim?'-,
"She'iriimediately began maMng preparations for her marriage, as privately
as possible, with young Bavis, who had
squandered his own wealth, and desired
to squander that, of the Palmers.
Before long, another missive irom th%
''doctor announced that the Major lay in
a state of apathy, unaTole to recognize
any person, and evidently beyond, the
reach of science. If his sister wished to
see him alive, she had best come, at
once. She did so, for the sake of the
world's opinion, and found him in bed,
in a darkened chamber, apparently unconscious. In a period of previous lucidity he had arranged all his affairs,
and left her sole heir to and mistress of
the entire property.
Once assured *of this fact, the y6ung
lady had no hesitation in prosecuting
her plans. Amos Maxwell showed her
the greatest friendliness, and finished by
advising her to marry young Davis, if.
she wished, immediately.
"You will pardon me, Miss," he said,
" if I speak plainly, but it is my habit.
No one had a greater regard for your
brother, the Major, than L We were
fast friends from boyhood, though our
paths differed widely. But he is now
gone, as far as practical results are concerned, and I do not see why Ms'prejudices should be respected, when they are
of such an unjust nature. I have often
tried to reason him out of his dislike to
(Mr. Bavis, but in vain. I drew up his
testairient, and can assure you that, at
the moment of his death, you will be
entirely free in this respect. Now, ? if
you wait till then, it will seem in bad
taste to mariy before you have left off
your mourning. My advice is for you
to iaarry before you put it on."
Tins was apparently sound counsel,
and Bavis seconded it with all his might.
Miss Palmer thought it over, coolly and
collectedly, weighing all the chances,
and finally decided that she had best follow the suggestions of her lawyer and
her lover.
In a very short sjftce of time all the
arrangements for the wedding were
completed. The Major, who was enjoying a loose sort of life in town, and really bringing himself nearer to his
feigned condition than he would have
liked to acknowledge, was kept" well informed of all the movements of Bavis
and Miss Palmer by Amos Maxwell,
who acted as legal adviser on both sides.
On the eve of the marriage,, the lawyer suggested the possibility of a partial
failure to the Major.
"When they find you've recovered,
they will use every exertion to retain
possession of their half of the estate,"
said he; " and, though the terms of the
wiE are explicit in commanding Elizabeth to marry according to your wishes,
yet it is very difficult to. keep a legal
heiress out of hev property by any such
provision in this country. If they
choose to go to law and fight hard, you
will be likely to lose the suit."
"The deuce I will!"
"Yes; and the court may suspect a^
conspiracy, top—in which case ,ypd will'
suffer. .It would be safest for you to
get all your property out oi your hands
before you attempt such a stroke."
" How shall I work it? " .
'' Oh, it is easy enough; make over all
your real estate to .some friend, for the
time being • then, if you fail, you -wpll at
least have lost nothing."  .,-.'*,'.       *
The Major, too ignorant of law to
know whether this was sound or not, but
placing implicit confidence in Maxwell;
made over every cent he possessed" )
that gentleman; and expressed himes1 \
in the presence of several witnesses^ : z
greatly opposed to the match his mat -
was about to make—asserting that f. j
would either prevent it'o? keep hesc i
of her share of -lhe estate.
Just after the ceremony had been p
formed, Elizabeth Bavis, nee Palmer,:
eeived & telegram from ^ew lost., -
follows:
Nasw Yobk, Oct. S, 185C.
EuzABETHpAijiJEai Don't marry Davis:, _:
am recovering, and forbid the marriage."
Cram Pawiee
The message fell like a thundert; 15
upon the newly-married couple,whol:\2,
fancied Cyril dying. Before they had: ->
covered horn their alarm and astonir->
ment, or decided what to do, the Mq ;?
returned—looking a little worn out,rp: >
haps, but by no means so emaciated .""3
they had reason to expect. His fc fc
communication with his sister was a dc relaxation that he should never consent 'ia
the match, and, if possible, should net
allow her a farthing.
Legal steps were immediately taken,
and the §x-officer, having seen notlm*
of his crony, Maxwell, for some days,
called upon him for advice as to the bf'st
mode of procedure.
" I am sorry, my dear Major," said tho
cadaverously respectable httle lawyer,
" but I really cannot act in your behap
any further."
"What!" ■
"I have discovered that oor proceedings were illegal, and I cannot go on
with them. Indeed, Ihave been retained
by Mr. Bavis to conduct his side of the
case!" -  ,
The Major was the thunderstruk
party now.
" Why, you infernal little xascal,"«aid
he, getting dangerously purple in ihe
face, "what do you mean? Are.yon going to betray me ?"
" Bon't use hard words, sir. . I know
iny business, I believe; and this is my
office."   .     ' v-
" I know it is: and I take this opportunity of kicking you out of your
own premises!" repHed the Major, with
a terrific oath. The next moment
Maxwell was sprawling on the walk,
outside of his office door, slid .Palmer
was standing over him brandishing his
cane.
' 'Assault and battery 1 You shall &w» at
for this 1" cried the lawyer.
"Arid you smart for it now, don't y*v .5'*
said the Major, laughing gliinlj
C^3.<XCZ7££* ->*■'• ■*
He did not laugh long, however. On
sending to get the titles, etc., to the
property which had been made over to
the attorney, the latter returned word
thatheknewnothmgaboutMaj. Palmer's
affairs, and cared less than he knew. The
property had been assigned'in due form,
with all ihe necessary precautions, and
Amos Maxwell eould keep it as well as
not, if he chose. The fact dawned upon
the Major's mind, gradually, that he had
been a dupe and was now a beggar. Tn
trying to overreach his sister he had been
overreached himself, just as she had
nearly fallen victim to her own covetous desire for his share of the parental
legacy. -
Having still the reputation of being
wealthy, Maj. Palmer found httle difficulty in procuring another laivyer, and
determined to leave no stone unturned
• to be avenged upon Amos. He first engaged in a suit with his sister for the enforcement of the terms of the will, and
. for a long time the war was waged with
great skill on both sides. The indomitable unscrupulousness of Maxwell, who
was retained by the defendants, triumphed finally, and the Major found
himself without a home, without means
and heavily in debt.
There was nothing to be done except
to wreak military vengeance upon all
paities, so the ex-officer sat down and
wrote to Amos, accusing him of having
misrepresented, turned traitor, swindled
and committed various other ungentle-
manly actions, for all which he must
have "satisfaction."
The only answer to this was a warrant
for the Major's arrest. Sending a challenge is an infraction of the law.
As soon as tins new misfortune was
settled, the victimized Major, still
smarting for revenge, challenged Bavis,
who readily accepted. Singularly
enough, although -Maxwell lived in the
same house with .Bavis—the former
country-seat of the Major, in fact—and
enjoyed the greatest intimacy with his
quandam clients, he took4 no steps .whatever to have the challenger arrested
again. On the contrary, lie counseled
Bavis to fight, and- "settle the business
once for all."
The cold, gray daylight of a November morning broke upon a barbarous
scene, enacted by Cyril Palmer, Wiil-
iain Bavis and two or three of tlieir acquaintances. As the sun rose, dull and
ghastly the simultaneous repdrfc of two
pistols rang upori the misty air, and
Bavis fell, dying, with a terrible wound
iri his left side. - - -
His antagonist,, who had raised a little
money in expectation of the emergency,
immediately fled to the West; where he
remained in the obscurity of an incognito for a year, supporting himself Dy giving lessons in boxing, fencing, riding,
etc., is a small towri. ,The life he was
leading there, however, grew; insupportable, and hoping io effect a reconciliation with his sister he wrote to;a friend
in New York if it would be safe toxe-
turn. THe reply he received s?ave him
hope and confidence, fains haa been
taken to hush tiie duel up, and a rumor,
ingeniously circulated, had given the
pubHc to Understand that Bavis had
accidentally shot himself while out gunning. *.' -.,',>
One week from the date of trie letter
that bore this welcoriife intelligence fhe
Major entered a restaurant in New York,
where he had just arrived, and,takinij'a
seat in one of the boxes, ordered break-1
fcafe, He was worn by travel and changed
by Ms year's experiences.   His hair had
fidlen sway from the top of his head,
ancl ma thickly sprinkled with white, as.
jj ^er© also his whiskers and mustache.
'j A deep cicatrice across his left cheek
ri Dad nose—the effect of a wound acci-
| Mentally given by one of his fencing
j* pupils -with a brosen foil—made his ex-
i pression more sinister than ever, and his
I attire, though still preserving something
I of the military style, was shockingly
I esedy, loqjpag as though he was iri the
| habit of sleeping in his clothes.'""
f   ^ The waiter who took the order brought
him the morning paper and a brandy
cocktail, as he directed, to " steady his
nerves," drew down the box curtain, and
X7ent to order the eggs aud coffee on
vhich the Major always breakfasted.
It was still early, and the only persons
in the saloon were the barkeeper and
this one waiter. While the latter vfas
gone, the barkeeper heard a groan—a
convulsive movement—& struggle in the
box where the Major sat—and ran tasee
what was the matter. f^
It was not much—the Major to only
dying of apoplexy I
He had come to New York with a
strong belief that he could work upon
his sister's feelings of sympathy and pity
sufficiently to persuade her into allowing him to live with her free of expense.
He promised himself that he would behave kindly toward her, and pass the
rest of his days in quiet idleness, without harming; anybody, or being harmed.
After the existence he had led, this
prospect seemed delightful to him, and
it is not strange that his disordered and
ruined system should have given way
under the shock which the following
newspaper announcement gave him. as
heranhis eye down tne marriage notices : . .
"Maxwell—Bavis—On the 10th, at
Palmer's Landing, by the Eev. Joha
Biblebanger, Amos Maxwell, Esq.,..to
Mrs. Elizabeth Palmer Bavis, relict of
the late Wm. BaviSj all of Pahner*s
Landing."
So* while the one rascal- was entering
npon the enjoyment bf the entire Pal>
m.et estate of over ,$60,000; the other
' rascal was dying alone and unfriended.
The assumed name, he had borne
served te prevent any one from, identity
ing hhri, and his vei*y grave is forgotten among the thousands in Potter's
' Field.
A Classic Bninftard, .;
;.> Tf +heiyx/AzlAr,zc_jJrr^z~rz'*^:rt'fzj ihv
fact correctly, the barkeeper was "about
to close up. He had said so several
times, andhad put out all the lights but
one. The old fixtures had shook the
sawdust from their feet and reluctantly
directed their footsteps homeward.
Only a stranger appeared, a dark, saddened man, who sat demurely on; a
stool and kept his thumbs revolving
around each other like white mice turning a wheel.
When the coast was clear he stepped
up to the bar and said softly: "May I
whisper a word in your ear ? "
''You may, mister, if you will be
quick about it," replied the drink-maker,
withhi3 hand on the lamp-screw.
"I want you to fill me a fiask of your
best whisky for family sickness," said
the stranger, drawing out an ancient
wallet,"with twenty fathoms of leather
string wound around it,—a well-worn
wallet that looked as if all the waves
and billows of bad luck had beat upon,
it, and gone over it and through it, and
flattened it and washed it out clean.
The barman filled him up a pint,
shoved down the cork until it 'squeaked,
wiped the. bottle dry and sat it upon the
counter.
"The autumnal air is getting a trifle
tartish." soliloquized the stranger.
"Would you have any objection to my
taking a little liver paflder from mv bottle?" •   "
He filled the tumbler quite full, took
it as he did paragoric in the days of his
infancy, and then remarked :
"Perhaps, on the whole, as the night
has far waned, and my family are on
their spiral springs and in their trundles,
you'had better put my bottle away on
the upper shelf, and when Phcebus
Apollo begins to canter his. golden
prancers along the avenues of the pur--
pling east, I will call for it, and you
may; then assess me the appropriate
ariiount of ducats."
The barkeeper sprang over the bar
and began to kick him.
"What J" he said sweetly, "you kick
me after Ihave drank? Bon't yon know
better than that? Kick me with both
feet—I cannot feel you even then. Before I took that glass, if you had but
shook your fist at me you would have
wounded me—hurt me; but now I scorn
the physical punishment. Good-night,"
he said, as he stood on the doorstep. . "I
see by the shadow on the sidewalk that
you have kicked me again. You should
remember, my irascible publican, jshat
fche dear old poet said : ' Pate cannot
harm me now, I ha^je dined to-day.'
So say L I have drunk to-night. Goodnight, taverner J How much the sparkling firmament looks like a far-off city,
Ut up for a festal night 1 Farewell!" I
shall see yon later." |_
The King of Boosts.
A recent traveler in Central' Africa
says: "Lions are one of the dangers,
between Zanzibar and the great lakes.
They sometimes ' hunt game in packs of
six to eight. Some animals show fight
against them successfully/ Lions never
venture to attack the adult elephant
and even avoid the t buffalo, unless.theyare more than two to one. Tn general
they do not attack caravans, and never in
day-time. At most a hungry lion may.
spring upon and carry off a straggler
while* passing through the brakes and
jungles. But it is otherwise at night.
When lions scent the caravan frorri afar,
particularly if it contains goats or beasts
of burden, they approach and announce
their vicinity by terrific roa?s. N§ver^
theless,. in a well-inclosed camp there is
no danger; the lions, never attetriM to
'. clear the obstacles, and marksinen from
behind the palisades can pick them' off
with almost urifailirig aim. Theie, ip
danger only when the camp is not completely inclosed^ or when those inside gp
out to attack them.*'
feuaMfng af fla Miilor*
•It is not uncommon to hear of a man
who'has not .Sense enough to go tothe
mill, but it would seem slanderous to saj
that the majority of men who are always
complaining of the millers have riot
sense enough to see that the majority of
the difficulties complained of arise from
faults or conditions that the farmer may
correct. At least Mr. J. HolHster, now
farmer, once a miller, says as much to
the AdrisHi Farmers' Club in a paper on
the milling question. One would sup-
# poseithat farmers would know enough tc
' take Only clean wheat to mill "when they
wish good flour. But the fact is, the
majority take no pains to. clean out all
coekle, cheat, hght and sprouted wheal
and filth. They carry a grist of such a
mixture to the miller, %nd ask him. to
give them for it as much prime flour a?
can be made from an equal weight oi
pure plump wheat " •
The miller must discount dirty, chaffy
wheat. He can give only as mnch good
flour as the good wheat will make, less
the toll.
For cleaning ithe gets wellpaidinthe
screenings, which go for feed, and wliich
the farmer had better kept at home.
Mr. Hollister advises such men to thoroughly clean iheir grain before going to
mill.
, * "Again, some, farmers think a clean,
thing can come out of an unclean one, or
.piire flour or meal can, come out of a
filthy old bag that, perhaps has been
used for carrying out rotten potatoes
from the cellar, arid moist and dirty,
thrown down to mould, to be picked up,
in a hurry arid carried off to bring home
the flour in.
The, very men who take dirty wheat in
dirty sacks are the chaps who complain
that'they .get,short returns and poor
flour from their. griBts> arid as this class
of men take only a two bushel sack at a
time, their poor wives are never sure how
that new batch of flour is going to act,
and bread-making fe all luck and chance
in ihat household.
*^Ir. HolHrtes s^ys. thres'&ces'?.. yeir
"isj often enough to" go to miii. vi"rie iloyr,
if packed in paper sacks, will grow bet-'
ter every day, and better flour is made
from large grists. Old flour is the best,
because the water has evaporated, and
the flour has become drier and stronger.
Now these facte we have before presented in these columns, and for these'
reasons it is our custom to go to mill but
once a year, except for, ground feed.for
the stock. After the wheat is threshed
we clean up thoroughly enough to furnish the family bread for a year. This,
with barrels to hold the flour, and sacks
to hold the bran and shorts, go in one
load to the mill. 'We tell our miller we
are in no hurry for that grist, but some
day in October or November, when the
weather is cool enough, and nofc too cold,
and when the mill is in the best order,
we wish him to do his best work, for
which we pay by the barrel. We thus*
get the best for the least outlay. The
-.miller likes that way, and the housekeeper has" a staple article of flour, that
she knows how to manipulate. Bread-
making is thus reduced more nearly to a
regular and reliable operation—from,
which uniform results may be expected.
- If .a farmer must, from force of jhabit,
go. to mill with one sack of wheat, he
will get better flour fo exchange .wheat
for flour.—Cincinnati Commercial.
,       Lord Bacon.
Francis Bacon was born at London,'
Jan. 22.1561.   His father, Sir Nicholas,
Bacon, was Lord Keeper of the Great'
Seal under Elizabeth.   Soon after completing his   twelfth year, he wfent to*
Cambridge, where he distinguished Mm-
self.   He traveled On the continent, and
returned to England in 1579 on account
of his father's death   In 1582 he Was
admitted to the bar,- and in 1589 became
a member of Parliament, and in 1590'
Counsel Extraordinary to the Queen, a
distinction almost without example for
one so young.   In 1606 he married Alice
Baraham, the daughter of a rich London merchant, and the" succeeding year
was made Solicitor General, and in 1613
became Attorney General and a member
of the Privy Council; in 1617he. became'
Keeper of the Great Spal, and the- following January was. made Lord High
"Chancellor, the highest civil office to
which any subject could then attain. In
.the following July he was created Barou
' Verulam, and admitted to the House of
Peers,  and  m 1619  became Viscount
Saint Albans.   In 1620 he published his
greatest work, the. "Novum Oygaamm."
He. was ? accused of  accepting bribes,
and, though at first strongly asserted
his innocence, yethe afterward confessed
his "guilt,  and was sentenced May 3,
1621, to pay'a fine of f£40,0()0 and to be
imprisoned at the King's pleasure.   -.He
was shown every indulgence, being sent
to the Tower but released two days after,
and the fine was remitted.   He was allowed an "income of £1,500, a sum equal
to five times that amount at the present
tday.   He died April 9^ |1862.„ His works
are numerous, the best known being his
"Essays," the "Novum Orgauum," " On
the,Wisdom of the Ancients,"etc., He
is described as one of the most illustrious of modern philosophers.    Quite a
number of  able  thinkers and writers
attribute to him the authorship of some
of the great plays of Shakespeare. Lord
Bacon left no children.
-   ■     - *     *       * ~ •      ■ - - *
- The drowning man in a sea of crime
will clutch at a straw bail.
Tms %• that \mUks ©a 'tAmm^gmSm
m'hot^m'hnMmSy* -'-.:■■ I-        -^
' It takes aa 'old womiSsx \7<sE Vesssi M
herbs to give sag® atMea.
' Asr exchange spsafei of fsmsle lcs^<S20a
Yes, they are ali fee males.    - - _   -
•Tee daaeingf-msste I&'afe&ya f'^rzmQ
steps to improve Ms business.     *•—*
.The medal offered for the Mggss! Hq
told this' ye&sr has been awarded *to> fe>
author of a circus poste.
Thb man who went to ge© the IboffisI
fence retired when he h£aaNiliofa*> seaoa
rail aad saw the plsnk'waik,
The Colleges are busy iefering greats
men, so that they can be MealsfleS M
they go astray in the herealfes,
The demand-of one-photogtephei? t©
uset the patent process of - -c^oSaer hc%
been deeided in the negative*    .
Amagistba^b -who is o. little- las m
the administration of the law easniot'lbs
said to be a hatchet of a Judge.
A VisGraLk lady- refuses to jmst? -a
bald-headed man, though he- Is a wMr
ionaife. She explains: " We'-d h&ve a
family-fight sometime^ and hehsg 510
hair to catch hold of,"
Jl EAsmoffABTJg, youag w&man at "Yas*
sar was asked "by the classical professor
for a,. definition- of Ambrosia, Affes
some hesitation, she Yepliedj ** I think
it is a kind of hair -oU*n
A GEKHiEMAJr saw an old HigMandeif,
one day fishing with a bent *pin,: He
said to the man, " F&h will never be
caught with thai" "Ah* they wB>"
fche man replied, *"if they'll only take ife
into theicheads." -    . .      .
Ss?am>ih<§ jokes ase common enough,
but nobody hei&s ■ of»'Bitting ones, —
Lowell Courier.- What of tha young
'man who eat down on*Ms sweethearts
new bonnet and sang," "I'm sitting on
the style, Mary T*-—Somermfte Journal,
Th# latest advices from the Sandwich
islands report that the lava throWB'feosa
Mauna Loa is likely to destroy a pdiMoa
of the town a^l jhaxk*®: oi Hilo. Whatis bad for JEh^ but it is hoped "sfeek
and the game '* may be 8Zf€&l,—~M€i'fHB«
town JSerctfcL
A- wiokeb ConaecMont manf lafeem
ill and believing he v/ss afeuatfe cite*
told a neighbor that he felt feeaieeci ol
preparation £02 ths r.ect- "cg^M, eh*!
wonld like to -cse cere v>_r?a r.cxi.T£. it
friend seat los a'iiTe-i^aaiva'co a^euw
A SEBViOE was .'Samouneed .at Bfe
Matthew's, Sydenham, London, 5S&b
children of the upper classes." "Whaie*
Upon the following amendment to fee'
well-known'saying was promptly offered
by a newspaper commentator: " Suffog
little children of the upper classes to
come unto Me."
Fotra-AND-TWEjfix fcnstles piled up oil thtv3s33^
Oversfeirt^Ed Beal sacque lyingxear the door.
Tliere a, Mgi-lieele'd. shoe. Here a corset lace,
Powdered puffs, and- otliefc things lor tor pret^
face.
Gum-elastic'garters, bandoline for bangs—
One long Btriped stocking on the bureau fiangs;
'Tother's on the sofa, flung there by our pet,
Myrfle's'neath the blanket, f ast asleep, you bet.
—Chicago Surseiy Jthyme.
This is the way a Yassar girl teHs a
joke:. "Oh, girls, I heard just the best
thing to-day. It was too funny. I
can't remember how it came about, but
one of the girls said to Prof- Mitchell—oh, dear, Icari't remember just
what she said, but Prof. Mitchell's
answer was just too funny'for any use;
I forget just exactly what he said, hut it
was too good for anything.'' :
'' What did he say to me, the beggar ?"
said'the prisoner, in a fine bui st of indignation. "Did you hear what he
called me, yer-Anner? He stopped an*
stud still in the middle uv the street, afe*
he niver opened his* blagyard head; 'he
took off Ms coat just, and he trowed it
down on the ground, like that, an' he
tuck off his bloody hat. an' he trowed it
down on top of it, just, an' he spit onhis
hands an' clapped them,' the wan in the
other, like that j an' that's #11 he'said,
the blafchsrin' son of a .gun; an' phwas
iriore would ye want him* to say before
ye take the top of him in wid a pavii}'
hammer?"    '''*". *   .
EEUBEN KKOTT.
Says Eeuben Knott unto his fair,
■?■:■■ . .      In language burning lot,
*'. Matilda, do you love me, dear ? "
Says she;'•'Hove you, Knott."
.--...    " Olt, say jQot boJ " ugadn he cried, i
"Oh, share-with me my Jot! {.
Ob, say that you Trail be iny biidei "'        I   .
Says 6he, "I'll wed you, Knott."
" Oh, cruel fair, to serve me bo !
I love you "well, you wot 1"
•   "Icoul&nQt'wedyoUjBeub.," says ehe,
" i'or then I should be Knott >"
Alight breaks in on Eeuben'a mind,
And in Ms arms she's got
She looks demurely in nis face,
And says. "Eray Mss me^ Xnotfc"
In Good Hands.
He was a young eounfcry fellow, a little awkward and bashful, but of sterling
worth of character. She was a Cincinnati belle, andhad sense enough to appreciate his. worth despite his awkwardness and bashfulness, and was his
fiancee. On a gloomy Sunday evening
last winter," they were standing in front
of the window in the parlor of her home
on East Walnut Hills, watching the
snowflakeet rapidly falling outside. He
was not up in society small talk, and,
being hard up for something to say, remarked as he watched the snow failing :
"This will be hard on the old man's
sheep."  *
•"Never mind, dear," said^he, slipping her arm around him, 'Hl will take
care of one of them."—Cincinnati Com.'
mercial.  '
Of 276 graduates of the Woman's
Medical College of Philadelphia, 32 have
died, 31 have given up their profession,
and. 151 are,still practicing; 51 havo
been married since graduating, and 5
gave up on that account The average
income of those remaining in practice ia
about* 83.000 per year.
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Ih
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