1878-08-16; Clare County Press

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Ten years—-and the hair on ray temples
IS turning and mixing -with gray,
And my face has grown aged and care-worn,
Its lines deepen day by day j
_y „mrades are want and privation,
They've clung tome close for years,
And I've borne them with unflinching patience
Though laden with trouble and fears.
This eve, while the sun has been dipping
His rays down the fair, rosy west,
I've been over the farm I once planted,
With hope of serene age aud rest;
But to-morrow a white-covered wagon,
On, its long westward journey will start,
And. Mary will smile, though she's hiding
A weary and desolate heart.
I've walked the last time through the orchard;
This autumn its first fruit will yield;
The vineyard is laden with clusters   *     v
And yellow with corn is each field.
When full of youth's hope and ambition,
My wife and I left dear old Maine,
With only the blood-Qoughthen pittance
I'd saved from a "private's " poor gain.
But Mary was happy and. cheerful,
Aud I strong with vigorous health
With eighty good acres of prairie
We seemed on a short road to wealth,
So first, for a home and a shelter,
A poor little shanty was built;
How poor, but one room, and unplastered,
So meager its poverty felt.
Then stables, and horses, and cattle,
And harrows, and wagons, and seed,
And hundreds etceteras unthought of,
That ever a pioneer needs.
And every thing came at the highest,
And called on my small stock of cash,
Till Xfound, ere I'd half done with buying,
My dollars had gone like a flash.
For five dreary, desolate winters,
With summers of labor between,
We suffered, yet thankful if autumn
Bewarded with measures of grain.
And there, in that kitchen and parlor
And chamber combined, one bright morn—
With poverty every where 'round them—
Our little twin children were born.
And later our Mabel, onr idol,
Came to us, yet soon fled away;
And we felt there were griefs that are greater
Than want—that sad burial day.
But I built to the hcuse an " addition,"
And made things all cozy and warm;
And bought forty acres of "timber,"
And for it we mortgaged the farm.
Thea "hard times " grew harder, and ever
Misfortune has followed alway,
With failure on failure of harvests
tThat no mortal foresight could stay.    .
The mortgage is closed, and our homestead
Is gone for its half, and is sold ;
No help—for it's.law, so it's justice—
And avarice clutches his gold.
So out—-heaven help us—we wander;
Onr youth and our labors are lost;
Ah, little we dreamed when we signed it,
The anguish that mortgage would cost.
Out over the prairie to-morrow
A white-covered wagon will roam,
And eyes that are misty and blinded
Shall take a last look at " the home."
Subscription: $1.50 per Annum. CLAEE, MICHIGAN, FT^AY^ AUGUST 16,1878.
Single Ooptes: Five Gent's,
_ BOOK. ABOUT THB BABY.
Now, if I could write such a story for you,
What a pretty one it would be!
And the prettiest things they would all be true,
But ean I ?   Ah, you shall see.
&o the book about baby must all be new ?
No, not one word of it old 1
■Weil, then—why, the baby's two eyes they are blue,
And the baby's one head it is gold.
And the baby has Buch a red bud of a mouth,
Such a beautiful bit of a nose;
And where can you find, inthe North or the South,
Such queer little pigs as his toes!
Oh, "the baby is better than blossoms or birds—
" Or than honey or oranges ?"   Yes.
And the baby tells tales with°the darlingest word**j
That mean—what yon never can guess!
And th&baby believes he's an angel, no doubt,
And wants tp go back to the sky;
And thatis just what all the trouble's about,'
And that is jnst why he will cry! *
And the baby is sweet—from the light on his head
To th*& dimpres that play in his feet.
Now, my book is all new, for who ever has said,
Before, that—the baby is sweet ?
-   ,S.M.B.Piatt.
EffiOM" DEkTH   TO   M__0
Aim   U*3Sol-sr©d  Mystery.
-xf
„**»=?
,i-l
^
BY OHABEES "D. H__BETH,
There were sis of us seated .before a
folmmg fee which ■east a generous glare
fnf«} the oiieroigsiuuH^hted xoomT_OufeJJ>?ojp
-*_. ^-—""v'"'"'""'"^'-*"'""^
el—Hmeys, and -beat seriously at the
window--panes. Afar off we could hear
the gust roaring among the naked hills,
now plunging shrilly through the skeleton branches of the trees, and again
whirling overhead with a weird shouting
sound, that might well have proceeded
from, the throats of evil things riding
•upon the wind. The ghostly spirit of
the*- storm- seemed to have penetrated
even into our comfortable circle, for we
had got, I know not how, upon that
most dismal of all subjects—death.
We had canvassed the theme pretty
thoroughly before .we discovered that
two of our number, the professor and the
doctor, had taken no part in the conversation. They were sitting a little removed from the rest of us, gazing
gloomily into the fire. Their ordinarily
cheerful expression of countenance had
given plage to a sober, troubled look,
and more than once we had detected the
-exchange of a strangely-significant
glance between them.
__ "may be readily supposed, we were
not slow to press them for an explanation of their conduct. But, for a considerable time, our efforts were fruitless, At length, after much persuasion,
it was the professor who spoke :
"Gentlemen," said he, gravely, "no
man cares to gain for himself the reputation of a' liar or a maniac. Yet that is
what you are pressing us both to do. I
have no doubt that the experience
which I am about to relate, and in
which my friend the doctor bore no unimportant part, will appear absolutely
incredible to persons of your advanced
views."
There was a touch of sarcasm in the
worthy professor's tone, but, in our
eagerness to hear his story, we found it
convenient to disregard this.
"However," he..continued, I shall
risk it. If you choose to disbelieve it,
why I shall endeavor to have charity
for your- ignorance and conceit. "Now,
doctor, if you will hand me the tobacco
and one of those pipes—the ranker and
blacker the better—I will proceed."
Having filled his pipe and settled himself comfortably in Ms chair, he began
thus :.*;*.
It must be fully ten years ago that the
doctor and myself were engaged upon
a geological survey of the northern part
of this State. We had labored diligently during the ' summer and fall,
when, toward the close of a cold November day, we shouldered our knapsacks and turned our faces homeward.
Our way led through a chain of black
and rugged hills toward a frontier town,
twenty miles distant, wheie we intended
to take the railroad. A more f orbidding
region it has never been my misfortune to
see. *- It was a perfect chaos, blackened
and warped by primeval fires and destitute of the smallest trace of vegetation.
Tall cliffs towered a thousand feet above
our heads, shutting out the light of the
dull November sky. Sluggish streams
filtered between the crevices of the
rocks, and poured noiselessly into deep
a_d motionless tarns. It seemed that
the blight of death had fallen upon the
•whole country.
Well knowing tne peril of attempting
to proceed through such a region after
Dighttall, we halted at sunset, and, building a fire at the. foot of a crag, disposed
ourselves fo rest as well as we might.
Jikhailsted with the toils of the day, the
doctor was soon asleep, and I was not
long in following his example.
Mow long I had slumbered I knew not,
•when I ion-ad myself sitting upright,
peeswg nemonslj into the1 darkness
g^omacl me. It seemed to me that some
one h&& flttexed a wild, appealing cry in
6fee y@ej poit-alg bf my ears. For some
g_ ommi% Isat gov wo&demig sadanxious.
Then I reflected that as there could be
no human, being in the neighborhood
beside ourselves, the sound which had
alarmed me must have been the shriek
of some night bird or animal. Explaining the matter thus, ,1 -was on the point
,of lying dbw_ again, when I was arrested
by a repetition of the cry. This time
there could be no mistake. Wild, long-
drawn, and, it appeared to me, full of
intolerable anguish, it re-echoed among
the crags with fearful shrillness. With
an uncontrollable start I turned and
shook the doctor tp awake him.
' * Be'quiet^.' ite muttered, ' -1 am awake
and have heard it all,"
1 * What can it be ?" I asked, anxiously.
" Surely nothing human; no one lives in
this region for miles around. Perhaps
it is a wild cat."
"No," he said, between his teeth,
" Such a sound never came from the
throat of a wild cafe. There it is again.
Listen!"
The cry was repeated. It was a woman's voice, but it expressed such supreme misery as I believe woman never
felt before. It came ringing up the
gorge with a weird and mournful intonation that chilled the blood in my heart.
By-_te _octor_ quick breathing I could
tell that he was as strongly affected as
myself. Neither of us spoke or moved;
both waited for a renewal of the cry in
the hope of arriving at some rational explanation of it.
Again it came; but now like a low,
tremulous sob. I am not a superstitious man, gentlemen, but I confess
that I sat there shivering with a species
of horror that was utterly new to me..
What could it be ? Not a living woman,
surely, alone and suffering in an inaccessible fastness where we were morally
certain nothing human dwelt! And
then what misery was it that gave itself
such uncanny expression? Not fear
nor bodily pain, but something terrible,
something nameless to us. While we
were debating these questions in smothered tones, the cry came once again,
This time in words that we understood.
"Help! Oh! God! help!"
At this intelligible appeal to our manhood, our superstitious weakness instantly disappeared. Seizing a torch from
our smoldering fire, we made our way
hastily toward a pile of, rocks a few hundred yards distant, whence the sound
seemed to have proceeded. Scrambling
up the height we came suddenly upon a
strange and mournful scene. Before us
stood a small, wretched-looking hut,
evidently constructed by hands unused
to sueh labor, unglazed and without a
chimney. There was a dim light within
and through the open door we saw the
body of a man apparently lifeless, lying
_g^e_lJLpO£^BEsidau
wy"__ \v_uj-y*--tPv-er usr
head, knelt the figure of a woman, evi
dently the one whose cries had alarmed
us. It needed but a glance to assure us
that'some" strange tragedy had-taken
place, and, without a moment's hesitation, we entered the hut.
The woman raised her eyes as we approached, but gave no further *heed to
us. Apparently her great sorro i had
driven her distracted. She was a young
creature, hardly 20,1 should judge, and,
despite the signs of hardship and sorrow
visible on her features, very beautiful.
Her form was slight and even attenuated,
but in its shabby dress preserved traces
of former refinement.
Her companion, a young man of about
her own age, . attired in a coarse woodman's suit, had evidently succumbed to
hardship or disease, and was either insensible or dead. His pinched and
ghastly countenance must have once
been very 'handsome, but now it
looked old and worn as that of a man of
60. He had apparently fallen in his
present position, and the girl had been
unable to raise him. .
My friend, the doctor, continued the
worthy professor, surly, uncouth and
cynical as he commonly appears, has as
"kind a heart as ever beat in a.man's
breast—no flattery, my dear fellow—for
it must be confessed that you have
faults that more than counterbalance
your one good trait! Well, gentlemen,
he bent eve* the poor creature, and, ina
voice as gentle as a woman's, endeavored
to arouse the girl from her lethargy.
"Who are you," said he, "and what
has happened'*'" ;
"He is dead—dead!" she muttered
hoarsely.
"Perhaps it is not so bad as that," he
rejoined, " tell us all about it. We are
friends, my dear, and medical men, and
may be able to assist you,"
"He died this morning, before my
very eyes,"she nioaned, "died, oh.my
God! of starvation. And I never knew
that he was depriving himself for my
sake ! Oh ! my husband, why did you
not let me die with you!" And she threw
herself across the body, sobbing as *if
her poor heart would break. There
were tears in the doctor's eyes as he
looked at me, added the professor, with
a tremor in his voice, and the rascal
has always sworn that my own were not
dry. That, however, is aside from the
subject.
Though we knew nothing of these two
poor children—for they were but little
more—we felt that we had chanced upon
a strange, sad story of love, pride and
suffering, sueh as is rarely told, even in
this unhappy world.
The doctor stooped down and felt at
the heart of "the prostrate man.
" He is dead," he whispered, motioning me to imitate his example.
"Yes, dead," I replied, after examining the corpse.
How we made the truth known to the
poor wife I do not remember. It would
seem that she had preserved some faint
remnant of hope until over-assurance
destroyed it utterly. With a low groan
she fell suddenly at our feet, insensible.
Although at a. loss as to what course to
pursue, m&^ieJMt no more than our duty
to remain in the hut for the night; and
on the morning to make the best arrangements for* the poor girl's comfort
that were possible. "Fortunately, the
doctor had his medicine ease in his
pocket. " Administering a powerful
sleeping potion to her, he placed her
upon the wide couch and left her in
happy unconsciousness of the events
that were to follow. We then proceeded
to a more careful examination of tiie
man.
Without vanity I can say that both
the doctor and myself have received
some few testimonials as to our scientific ability from the world. You will
probably believe, then, that we are capable of deciding upon a very simple
case of death by starvation? He paused
and looked gravely around. Very good,
remember then, that I assert upon my
professional reputation that the man was
stone dead.
"Yes," added the doctor, who had
hitherto remained silent, " the life must
have* been extinct more than fire hours
when we found him,"
Well, continued the professor, with
increasing gravity, having satisfied ourselves upon this point, we covered the
corpse decently and sat down to wait for
morning. Though in no mood for conversation, the startling experience of the
evening kept us both awake for several
hours. But at length, completely overcome with weariness and excitement, I
fell into a light slumber.
Almost immediately, it seemed,'I was
awakened with a shock. The Doctor
was bending over me with an expression
of wonder and alarm upon his pale face.
"Wake up," he said in a troubled
whisper, " something very strange has
been going on in this room for many
minutes past."
"What is it?" I asked, "I thought
that I heard some one speaking."
"You did," he replied, "I have distinctly heard a voice close beside us, yet
there is no one in the room except ourselves and these two poor people."
"Perhaps the woman has been talking in her sleep," I suggested, "orit
may be that the man is not dead after
aH."
"No, I have looked at both," he returned. " One sleeps soundly, and the
other will never spe*ak again in this
world.   So satisfy yourself."
I arose, and, trimming the lamp, proceeded first to the couch where the girl
lay. She, at least, could not have spoken, for all her senses were locked in a
profound stupor. I then examined the
corpse and found, it as we had left it, except that the features were more shruken
and sallow than before. No voice could
have come from those rigid lips. Concluding that we had both dreamed or
had mistaken some nocturnal cry for a
human voice, I replaced the light and
was about to resume my seat, when my
movements were arrested by a very singular sound.
"There it is again!" muttered the
doctor, agitatedly.
A low, confused murmur, resembling
nothing that I had ever heard before,
arose in the room, and seemed to circulate in the air for an instant and then
die away.   Agaj-aitarose, cogaing from
descending until it appearea to emanate
from some invisible "source immediately
beside us. This time the murmur did
not die away, but grew more distinct,
until we were able to detect intelligible
Words, though spoken as if beneath a
heavy muffling. I know of nothing with
which to compare the intonation except
it may be to the articulation of a telephone, or that of a ventriloquist.
The first words we caught were:
" Oh, my poor wife! "
It would be impossible to deseribo
the effect that these words produced
upon us. It was not so much the tone,
weird and uncanny as it was, as the
startling significance of the words that
amazed us. Who could have spoken
them but the husband of the woman lying stupefied upon the couch ? Yet he
had been dead for many hours. Full of
repugnance of the horror of the idea,
we started up and agaiu examined, not
only every nook and cranny of the hut
itself, but "even the space outside for
many yards around. There was no
human being beside ourselves in the vicinity.
"*" We again scrutinized the corpse. It
had neither changed its position nor its
appearance. The flesh had grown perfectly cold and the muscles rigid; there
was not a trace of vitality in it. Now,
continued the professor, wiping his forehead nervously, I have arrived at what
I imagine will be the limit of your credulity. . I do not expect you to credit
what followed; but I swear to you, on
the word of an .honest man, that 1 do not
deviate from the truth so much as a syllable when I say that while we bent
above the body we again heard the voice
proceeding from a distant part of the
room, saying audibly:
"In the name of God, assist me back
to life!"
Witli hearts beating'thick and fast, we
stood gazing at each other absolutely
thunderstruck. An experience so terrifying, so utterlv without precedent, completely unnerved us. While we remained
stupefied with horror, the voice was again
audible.
" Oh, have pity !" it said; " aid me to
return to life."
It was some moments before either of
us could recover from our amazement
sufficiently to make any reply.
" Who is it that speaks to us ?" asked
the doctor, in a low tone.
" The soul of the man who lies dead
before you !" it replied.
" It is impossible that the dead can
speak," answered the doctor.
" " No,, for the intelligence never dies,"
returned the voice. "My body is indeed dead, but that with which I lived
and thought and loved is still in this
room."
" What is it "that you desire?" asked
the, doctor, carrying on this strange colloquy with increasing wonder.
"To be aided to resume my former
existence," was the rejoinder. "I dare
not leave my poor wife unprotected in
this wilderness. I cannot see her suffer.
I love her beyond all my hopes of a
future life, and by the power of my love
I have remained near her, and have
been enabled to communicate with you.
I cannot, I will not, be separated from
her. I must return to her in my human
shape."
Whether the doctor's courage deserted him at this point or not I cannot
say, but ne spoke no more ; and, as the
voice was no longer audible, we remained silent in a state of mind that
baffles all description.
I am morally certain that both of us
would haye fled instantly from that
place, had it not been for the poor
creature sleeping upon the bed. We
could not leave her to face alone a mystery &at shook even nerves as tough
ened as ours.   After a. Iiasty  consultation as to what course ye ought to fol-'
low, we resumed oui- former seats and
waited, in  breathless Expectation, for
what was next to occur, , „       ^   ?
Some hours had pass'/d ia this way,
and the firm, dim traces of dawn were
shining upon the eastera horizon, when,
with a simultaneous sta'^ we sprang to
our feet. Th voice hsd} again. spoken!
This time it had proceeded, not from
some indefinite point in'the atmosphere,
but from beneath the El-ieefc enveloping
the corpse.,
" Help!" it cried, in i'iint but distinct
accents; "for Christ's &?&$, help !"
For an instant we hesitated—and who
would not?—then hastened to the body
and removed the cover'ng. There was
no alteration in its pall -jr and rigidity,
but we perceived thai- the lips, from
which a faint murmur was issuing, trembled slightly. Here oris instincts conquered bur weakness.**Whatever the
mystery involved in $j?.a matter,, a human being was struggling to regain existence and our impuls«%*gas to aid .without question. A powerful: restorative
was administered, and f-efsre many moments had passed we'saif. the-color conv
ing back to the wan cheeks and the
sunken muscles resha*clffg • themselves
with the currenjt of warni blood. Then
with a faint sigh the ©Jtes opened and
gazed at us mqumngly. In a word,
gentlemen, the dead wag'sestored to life,
It is needless to detaif'What followed.
In the meeting which occurred between
these two poor young creatures,, we felt
ourselves more than repaid for the start
ling experience of the *|ix«vious night."
It can do no harm to addlhat we claimed
and exercised the right of securing their
future prosperity out of our. ample
means. * We learned no more of their
former history than thal^he persecution
of those whose .wishes ,,their marriage
had opposed had 'drivex-f them to hide
their poverty and misfortunes in the
wilderness. We have nevSi'heard of them
since.
The young man, as ,w© discovered oh'
questioning him, rema_bered nothing
of his sensations while imconscious, except a vague, dream-liM,slid" yet-intense^'
sorrow for his young w%e« He had no
knowledge whatever of tie voice which
had addressed Us, and speared to'be-
lieve that he had laborei under a temporary suspension pf ausmation * arising
from starvation. We did not combat,
his belief, but we believ# that he was
actnally dead, and that fcy only -returned
to life through his great love.   Who will
SABBATH   BEABim
life's —ongiDgs.
A child ran laughing on the beach,
The sun shone warm and bright   ,»
Upon her waving golden hair,
Her tiny form bo slight.
" I wonder why the world's bo fair,
So full of sun and song,
I wonder why big folks don't laugh
And play tho whole aay long."
A maid was walking on the strand,
She gazed far out to sea;
Where, o'er the sunlit waters rode
A bark so gallantly.
"Ah, love is coming o'er the waves,
Is coming soon to me,
I wonder how, in this sweet world,
Old folks such shadows see."
A woman stood upon the shore,
Her eyes with weeping red,
"Looted sadly on the cruel sea
That ne'er gave up its dead.
" I wonder why this world was made
So dark and full of care.
No wonder that life's burden seems
Too great for one to bear."
Near by tho window's ledge there sat
. A granddarae, old and gray—
The window looking out to sea,
Where ships at anchor lay.
" I wonder when mine eyes shall see
Life s ship at anchor lie,
Within God's harbor peacefully
"For all eternity."
deny that love is stronges than death,
and that it
the grave ?
goe&y&mm even beyond
■■•^
:">S^
.Religion in the  _*a_.ily.
The family is the divine unity, not the
individual. We have opportunities for
well-doing there of the greatest importance. All good ought to begin in the
family. Luther has remarked that the
Canaanitish woman, when apparently repelled, took the sword out of the Lord's
hand and turned it against himself.
Then Christ said, " Oh, woman ....
be it unto thee according to thy word."
Should we not learn from her patience
and perseverance and faith in this thing?
How are we to labor ? Begin by setting forth Christ at home. Some feel a
difficulty of this kind; strangers do not
know our faults, and we can- speak to
them about Christ, but at home they
know our faults, and we have all enough
of them. We feel our consistency is
watched. Now, when we feel tha*twe
are hindered from speaking to our own
children by a consciousness of our own
unfaithfulness as Christians, nothing
can appeal more forcibly to an affectionate and earnest mind in favor of repentance and a new life. Iu many cases
our" prayers do not seem to be answered.
I do not wonder at it when our lives
are so inconsistent. Love wins, but it
is tlie love of Christ in us that becomes
useful in drawing other souls to the
Lord Jesus, In regard to sickness in
our homes, it is a time when tlie word of
God ean be brought to bear with great
effect. Sickness is appointed for an object. Do not think that nature explains
everything, as is presumptuously asserted by some.   Notning in me nineteenth
conscientious choice, and make mirth of
your holy carefulness, but what matters
it ? Some of us have been laughed at
for these twenty years, and are none the
worse for it: we have had all manner of
evil spoken falsely against us for Christ's
name's sake, but we aie all the happier
for it. Oh, boys, if you are renewed in
heart, and become for life and death the
Bedeemer's, none can really harm you.
All must be right with him who i3 right
with God.—C. H. Spurgeon, in The
Christian.
._—- «>JU
Another police prefect hasbeen assassinated in Bussia. Baifoa *i±eykirig had
an office at Kiev corresponding to that
of Gen. Trepoff aiSt. Petersburg. Both
were chiefs of the gendarmerie, and also
of the secret police, and in this latter capacity were held responsible for the doings of the mysterious Cabinet Bleu.
The Baron was enjoying one evening the
coolness of the air, smoking his cigarette
and strolling down the main street in
company with an old friend. Suddenly
his comrade heard him cry_ out, " Help!
I am murdered!" and turning round saw
him sinking to the ground. Along dagger had been driven through his side up
to the hilt. The Baron's friend raised
the cry of murder, and several persons
started in pursuit of the assassin, who
was running down the street. A lad of
15 was the first to overtake him, but a
shot from a revolver brought the pursuer to the ground. The murderer escaped and even his name remained a
mystery. The Baron died in a few days,
and the chances are that his murderer
was one of the mourners at the funeral.
Secret whippings are said to have been
frequent in Kiev. Whenever a rash
youth or a free-tongued woman undertook to discuss politics in wine-room or
parlor, the heedless speaker would be
invited to an interview with the chief of
the gendarmerie, and would invariably
be treated with every courtesy. The
high official would express his regret
that imprudent words should have been
spoken, and leave the room, when the
visitor's chair would siuk -with him or
her, the upper half of the body remaining above the floor, while below unseen
hands administered a flagellation the severity of which was only equaled by its
ignominy. This over, the trap-door
would rise-again, and the victim, suffering severe bodily pain, and even more
harrowing moral anguish, would be
bowed out by the ever courteous and
affable chief. 	
- The Stock Kegion of Texas.,
The section of country along the gulf
coast, lying between Houston and Galveston, and extending far around to .the
_lio Grande,- is the famous pasturage region of Texas. The country consists of
open bottom land, skirted everywhere by
the blue horizon. Its fertility and luxuriant props of grasSj the neven temperature through the year and the numerous
small streams of pure water, make it
emphaticaEy the "paradise," not "of
the Peri," but of the cows. Some of the
cattle farms of this country are respectable principalities in their way, rivaling
many of the petty kingdoms of the German states, and the proprietors are liter-
allv lord of all they' survey. From
100,000 to 300,000 acres, all in one farm,
are no unusual thing, and this, too, under* fence, where roam thousands on
thousands of sleek and saucy beeves. It
is a very kingdom of cows. The owners,
too, are live, energetic men, awake to
the importance of having tne best
breeds, and, accordingly, have imported
Brahmin and Syrian bulls, which make
a most excellent cross on the Texas stock.
Durham and Devon stock do not succeed well, being too. subject to fever.
Great as it already is, it is believed that
the cattle business of Texas is yet in its
infancy. The European demand for
fresh meats will tend to stimulate and
enlarge the business.—Mural Messenger.	
The extreme of fashion this year in Paris is to wear natural flowers in straw hats.
A little glass tube, lik6 that worn by
men in the button-hole* is fixed on the
hat and keeps the bouquet fresh. The
flowers are chosen to harmonize with the
dress worns Boses, however, with plenty of foliage, are now ii vogue.
LliC*
J IV <Jl-L\.2.\^nL-?
:***^¥"'~-*1*-8-f-*J<'^^ Q£ „__
babbling about finding truths which it
has not really found.
Then as to our children at school, we
need to pray for them. But we are responsible for sending them there; therefore pray for guidance in ^ selecting
schools to send them to. As' to young
men entering on life, the period is very
momentous, and while prayer is offered
for them let us be very sympathetic and
encouraging.—Dr. _T. S. Patterson, in
The Christian.
A "Word to the Boya.
When I was just 15 I believed in the
Lord Jesus and joined the church of
Christ, and nothing on earth wouliplease
me more than to hear that those I am
writing to had been led to do the same.
It is twenty-five years ago now, and I
have never been sorry for what I then
did j no, not even once. I have had
plenty of time to think it over, and many
temptations to try some other course,
and if I had found out that I had been
deceived, or had made a gross blunder,
I would have made a change before
now, and would do my best to prevent
others from falling into the same delusion.
I tell you, boys, the day I gave myself
up to the Lord Jesus to be His servant
was the best day of my life. Then I began to be safe and to be happy; then I
found out the secret of living, and had a
worthy object for my life's exertions and
an unfailing comfort for life's troubles.
Because I would wish every boy who
reads these lines to have a bright eye, a
light tread, a joyful heart and overflowing spirits, I therefore plead with him to
consider whether he will not follow my
example, for I speak from experience and
know what I say.
Once, as I stood musing at a window,
I saw a fly upon it, and made a brush
with my hand to catch it. When I
opened my hand the fly was not inside,
but still on the same place on the glass.
Scarcely thinking what I did, I made
another" brnsh with my hand, and
thought I had captured the insect, but
with the same result. There was the
victim, quietly retaining his place in
spite of me. It was on the other side
of ihe glass. And when I saw that it was
so, I smiled at my own folly. Those
who attempt to find pleasure out of
Christ will experience a like failure, for
they are seeking on the wrong side of
the glass. When we are on the side of
Jesus Christ, and, having believed in
Him, are cleansed and forgiven, then
our pursuit of joy will be successful;
but till then we shall labor in vain, and
spend our strength for naught. It is
of no use digging for coal where the
strata show that there cannot be any;
and equally useless is it to try after
happiness where God's word, and the
experience of those who have gone before us, assure us that happiness cannot be found. But then it is all the
more needful that we should seek it
where it can be had, and give ourselves at once to the search. He who
believes in the Lord Jesus is blepsed in
the deed.
What hinders you from believing?
Boys, why should you not, while yet you
are" boy3, believe in the Lord Jesus unto
salvation ? May the Spirit of God lead
you to do so!
Do not imagine that you cannot now
be Christians; the gifts of our heavenly
Father's love are not reserved for a certain age; boys ni'iy be saved, boys may
be workers for Jesus, boys may bring
great glory to God. Hence it is that
just now, at this particular turning
point in your lives, we are anxious to
see you resolute for the right way, May
the Holy Spirit incline you to resolve to
be the Lord's.  Others may despise your
QUiCK   WOESo
Bread trora. Standing Wheat in JTour Minutes and Thirty-seven Seconds.
[From the Oarrolton (Mo.) Democrat.]
About fifty men were present by invitation to see Jim Lawson beat his own
time of two years ago, when his wife had
bread baked in eight and a quarter minutes after the wheat was standing in the
field.    At 46  10   o'clock the  reaper,
drawn by Cy.   Burnett's  dun  mules,
stood at the corner of the growing wheat,
machine in gear ready for a start.   Men
were stationed every few feet along the
line of grain ready to seize an armful as it
fell from the reaper, and rush with it to
the thrasher close by,   which, .under
the  direction of  veteran drivers, was
getting under way for business.   At the
mill, just sixteen  rods   away, Lawton
stood at the window watciing the moment   when McCaw,   on  ihe swiftest
horse in the county, should start from
the thrasher with the grain, while Mrs.
Lawton and her niece, Miss Alice, had
all the preparations made to make griddle-cakes  and biscuit in the   shortest
possible time.   At the drop of the hat
the dun mules sprang to the work, and
in lm. 15s. the thresned .wheat, about
a peck, was in the sack on  the horse
and the race commenced for the mill.
There were two bridges to cross, and the
excited spestators could only see a column of dust, hear a couple "of taps on
the plank bridges as the horse flew over
them at lightning speed, and the wheat
was delivered to Lawton in the mill.
In lm. 17s. the flour was delivered to
Mrs. Lawton, aud in 3m. 5.5s. from the
starting of the reaper the first griddle-
cake came from the bands of Miss Alice,
was gobbled by a dozen eager hands and
—that was the last of it.   In _m, 37s.
from the starting of the reaper, according to the best double-timer stop-watch
iu the country, a pan of biscuits was
delivered to the hungry crowd by Mrs.
Lawton, and that was the last seen of
them.    Then other pans of delicious biscuits were baked more at leisure, and
boiled ham and "one-minute biscuits"
formed a sandwich it was right hard to
beat, and then, as it would be impos
He enters in your beer saloon,
With Hndly words of cheer:!
" How do you do", my boy !" he cries,
" Tilings look right cozy here!"
" My health I   None of the best, you ]_ow.":
Kidnpy complaint, I fear.
I just popped in to have a chat;
I'll only talce one beer."
His gaze while speaking fhu3 to yon
Most surely is sincere;
You pity him, and reaUy think
He'll only take one beer.
Then you converse of various thing
Eidioulous or dear;
And ere a minute has elapsed
You rap again for beer.
Now he forgets his feeble health,
His eyes are calm and clear;
And while you pay another dime
He drinks his second beer.
Then, as the conversation glows,
And other friends appear,
This man who only came for one,
Drinks eight moro mugs of beer!
' His voice grows loud as he narrates
His wonderful career,
And down his r« stless throat he ponra,
At your expease, more beer.
And when dullmidnight comes around,
In ways far from austere,
You carry to some distant stoop
The man who takes one beer.
Seio York Sun.
PITH AID JTOIITc
speech of some kind, Mr. Smiley proposed that Gen. Shields make a speech,
which he d"d in those incomparably
graceful words of his that fill even so
prosaic a proceeding as grinding wneat
with the poetry of eloquence. Then
Lawton, in his modest way, had to say
something, and he made a little speech
that was heartily applauded as well as
that of Gen. Shields, and the party separated.
Affection, Despair and Suicide,
Charles S. Sauvinet, who, under the
Warmoth Administration, was Civil
Sheriff of the city, committed suicide at
his residence, No. 5 Kerlerec street, corner of Dauphine. His devotion to one
of his sons, a youth about 16 years of
age,who is seriously afflicted with a pulmonary disease, was the cause which led
him to destroy himself. When the
youth, who in his earlier years had
shown great aptitude for study, was sufficiently old to be separated from his
parents, he was sent away. Some time
since, having received a brilliant education, he returned home. His success at
school increased the affection of his
father, who became devoted to" him.
Hardly had he returned home than the
first symptoms of the terrible malady
became visible. Slowly and gradually it
progressed, though every effort was
made to check it. Yesterday Sauvinet,
who had thus far clung to the hope that
his son might recover, commenced to
lose that hope, and, accompanied by the
youth, called on Dr. Boudanez, the family physician. After conversing with
the physician, he said to him: "Doctor, is my son g»ing to die ? If he does,
all that remains for me to do is to
throw myself in the river. I cannot see
Jiim die." Dr. Boudanez ieplied that
the youth was better, but Sauvinet said
that all doctors said, that, and added:
" What can 1 do if my son dies ?" The
doctor reasoned with him, saying that it
was his duty to live and take care of his
son. Shortly afterward Sauvinet left,
and proceeded toward his residence. On
the way, owing to his son's feeble condition, they were compelled to stop several times. This confirmed Sauvinet in
his apprehension that his son's end was
approaching, and when he reached his
residence he apj. eared so pale and careworn that the members of his family, astonished at it, inquired from him
whether he was ill. He made no reply,
but saw his son to bedA and then retired
to his own chamber in front of the
building. Upon arriving there he removed his coat, secured his revolver, a
Smith & Wesson, and laid down on his
bed. He then applied the muzzle of the
pistol to his right temple and pulled the
trigger. The report of the pistol attracted his family, who found him insensible on his bed. Dr. Formento was
immediately summoned, and upon ex
amining the wound declared science
powerless. After lingering for three-
quarters of an hour, during which time
he was insensible, Sauvinet expired.
He was 49 years of age, and leaves a
large family.—Neiv Orleans Picayune.
Boeskt Bubns' fiddle adorns the show
window of a New York pawnbroker,
where its impecunious owner has placed
it, after receiving a receipt from the
Lancashire Scotchman, who keeps the
shop, that its value is $200. The fiddle
was broughttothe United States twenty-
five years ago by anEnglishlife insurance
agent, who paid d£2C0 for it in JUondon,
but who had to dispose of it to make
both ends meet. Its late owners appear
to be no more thrifty than the bard who
originally possessed it.
A hanging garden—A jail yaed,
A vein search—That of the leech.
Why does a miller wear a white hat ?
To cover his head.
The man steaks much who attempts
to swallow unmasticated beef.
_ Bu-j-i—ss efforts^—Trying to restore
to a blind man the apple of the eye.
Be careful how ynu accuse a j_dy of
using powder; she may blow you up.
What overwhelming bliss to receive a
shower of compliments from a reigning
belle!
Why is a room full of married people
empty ? Because there is not a single
person in it.
The old saying, " Excuse haste and a
bad pen," has been attributed to a pig
which ran away from home.
What is the difference between a bare,
figure and an .ancient song? One ia a
nudity and the other an old ditty.
The Rochester Ixl^ld has a delicious way of refusing original poetiy;
" Our paper is not worthy of your lines,"
it says.
It is becoming more and more evident every day that an iron-clad war vessel would make an excellent sinker for a
fishing line.
If all the babies in the world were
seated together, and spanked at the same
time, how many sugar plums would it
take to quiet them ?
An eminent physician has recently
discovered that the nightmare, in nine
cases out of ten, is produced "from
owing a bill to the newspaper man."
New Jebsey has a millionaire barber.
He never spoke except to whisper
"Next." and had been known to tells
man that his hair did not need to be cut.
A iittIiE Irish boy fell down and bit
his tongue. He arose from the ground
crying and sobbing, and said to his
brother: " Oh, Staphen I will I ever
spake again ?"
Doesn't Boston harbor remind you of
the Bay of Naples?" asked an enthusiastic yachtsman. "Yes," was the answer,
" at least in one respect. They are both
full of water."
Mosquiios are bred upon-»_e waters.
We ardently wish they would not return
until after many days, and thus fulfill
the scripturkl promise.—Chzeac/q Ckr.ii-
A NEWIjY--,XABKiD^au7whb C'.zL^l-.-J* -
needs discipline, thus "discourses : "A
woman is a handy thing to have about
the house. She does not cost any more
to keep than, you'll give her, and she'll
take a great interest in you."
A _op took a seat in a railroad car behind a young lady, but, on perceiving
she had a dog. he moved off with an air
of trepidation, "Don't be afraid," she .
said, with a reassuring tone; " Jip won't
bite you; he doesn't like veal."
It is related that a Western tourist,
to whom an Italian monk was showing a
consecrated lamp which had never gone
out during five centuries, gave the flame
a decisive puff, and remarked with cool
complacency, "Well, I guess ifs out
now."
- When an English paper captures an
American joke it chops off the head,
chisels out the point, sets it up backward, and gives its readers a -dish of
wisdom that tastes like fresh meat after
a long sea voyage.—Cincinnati Breakfast Table.
Oh ! why should the fpirit of mortal be proud
When the summer co_e3 with its insolent crowd
Of flies and mosguitos and fluttering gnats
That utilize all our feathers for mats;
That stab us and jab us and tickle our pates,
That swim in our saucers and bathe in oar plate3,
That drive us to woods with iniquity fraught,
And make us say things that we oughtn't t j ought
The argamentum ad—"Sam, you are
not honest. Why do you put all the
good peaches on the top of the measure
and the little ones below ?" " Same
reason, sah, dat makes de front of your
house all marble and de baek gate ctiief-
ly slop bar'l, sah."
To many a schoolboy's fond delight,
Now comes the f"stive apple green
Ho early puts sime out of sight—
The pain begins at 8:15.
—Oil City Derrick.
The doctor came at half-past nine,
And gently dealt him oastor-oil;
The patient said he must dtc.ine,
For fearitnrighfc the apples spoil.
A pious "French priest recently gave
out an announcement of a procession to
take place next cay as follows : _ "If it
rains in the morning the procession will
take place in the afternoon, and, if it
rains in the afternoon, the procession
will take place in the morning.
It was very careless leaving the parrot in the parlor on Sunday evening;
but she never thought any thing about it
until Monday morning, when he roused
the whole house by making a smacking
noise and crying, "Darling Susie! Darling Susie !" He kept it up all day, toos
and the old folks are much interested in
the case.
A SONG OF THE SEASON.
The lusty ath ete of the year,
When birds begin to sing,
"Leaps from the forests broivn and sear,
And makes his annual spring.
When the later days of drowsy heat.
Develop tramp and bring out bummer;
He says such weather can't be beat,
And thinks he'il go and cool off sum'er,
Wilhlucious fruit the branches bend,
To tempt the boy who long has sought'em;
His head and knees in anguish blend-
He's doubled up; by jove, he's gautvann,
. The year is gone, my song is done;
I've chewed my pencil to a splinter;
I cannot mate a single pun
Oa icy, chill, forbidding winter.
Surlinijton Hawk- Eye,.
Average "field of Eggs*
Though in exceptional instances individual hens will lay 150 to 200 eggs per
annum, yet when several hundred head
are kept, the average is not generally
over ten or eleven dozen. "When we
kept 600 fowls, ourselves, embracing
eight or ten different breeds, and counted the eggs daily, year after year, we
averaged never over 130 eggs per hen
per year, and in some instances as low
as 115. But we believe that; by prolonged selection of the best layers, generation after generation, and skillful
management, hundreds of fowls can be
made to yield an average of a gross per
annum.—-Poultry Yard,