Denard
Friday Morning, Sept. 20, 1889.
WHAR THE CORN JUICE FLOWS,
CLARANCE H. PEARSON.
My son, ‘afore you leave your home, I want ter
say to you, i
Thar’s lots of pitfalls in the world to let young
roosters through; :
So keep a padlock on your mouth and skin
your weather eye, .
But never advertise yourself as being mons-
strous “fly.” : :
Don’t run to dress—of all the sorts with which
"the world is strewd, mr
The most consarned useless thing is what they
call a dood ; : 2
An’ don’t be “tough” an’ wear your hat a tilted
on your nose, ' i
An’ don’t be forever loafin’ i:
Whar the corn juice flows.
I know you think I don’t know mueh; but
take a fool's advice, i
An’ never go toa saloon to play at eards or
dice, :
Fer tho’ I'don’t hold play at cards itself is any
crime,
I know those barroom games use up a heap of
cash an’ time; vi
An’ every little while, you know, the reg'lar
drinks will come, : |
Until your head goes swimmin’ on a reservoir
of rum;
Somethin yowll jaw about the game, and
likely come gi '
er yi 't know what will happen
Sorgeduns Whar the ty juice flows.
They saya wise man takes his drink and goes
about his biz, il
Tho’ I think he is a wiser one who lets it be
whar tis. .
Still, barroom talk an’ sich does more than
drink ter spoil a man, :
Fer the mind absorbs more poison than. the
stomach ever can ;
So ef ye will indulge, my lad, don’t hang about
the bar," ‘ ;
But down your booze an’ plank your dues an
git away from thar; ;
Fer barrin’ liquor men themselves, thar's no
one ever rose,
That made it his headquarters
Whar the corn juice flows.
.
I s’pose this kinder talk from me may sotind a
Tittle odd, 1
Bein’ as'how I've allus drank my
forty rod; ,
But if I had to live again the years thet’s pass-
ed and gone, :
I'd undertake ter organize a temperance club
of one; hs
Fer now that you are leavin’ home ter steer
yer own canoe, i
Some theories I hav allus held is sorter fallin
through, : ;
An’ I'd feel a good deal better ef my son, afore
share of
he goes,
Would boycot all the places Hy
Whar the corn juice flows.
THE MILLINER.
: . iid Ly
Every morning at precisely six o'-
clock, Miss Annie Diamond opzned the
door of her miiliner’s shop, and deli-
cately, yet most thoroughly, swept the
floor; then, while the dust was settling,
she swept the sidewalk in front, and
when she came along in front of her
neighbor, Mr. Wilkins's, shoe Store,
the rosy bachelor proprietor, flinging
his door wide open, with a cheerful
masculine disregard of the sadly need-
ed broom in his own shop, would smg
out, “Good morning, Miss Annie, and
how do you find yourselfthis morning 2”
To which greeting the buxom little
milliner would reply, with an innate
sense of discomfort as she remembered
that her front hair was yet in crimping
pins, and gave a somewhat bristly ap-
pearance to her bright face—
“Dear me! Mr. Wilkins, how do you
do sir?” and she was apparently as much
surprised as though these greetingsiwere
not exchanged every morning of the
year, excepting Sundays, when both
shops were demurely closed, while the
owners, dressed in their best, went to
church.
At this hour in the morning, tha lit-
tle milliner's shop presented rather a
ghostly and winding-sheet effect, owing
to the fact that all bonnets, and what
not, were covered with white sheets, to
protect them from the dust. These the
little milliner next gathered up with
firm, careful touch,and soon had things
temptingly arranged, and exquisitely
clean; after which, she disappeared be-
hind the curtain partition in the back
of the shop and proceeded to prepare
her breakfast.
On this chill October morning, the
aroma from the fragrant coffee-pot went
heayvenward, only stopping on its way.
long enough to tickle bachelor Wilk-
in’s nose; as he chopped wood in his
back yard he looked wistfully at the
closed door, nnd heartily envied sleek,
‘well-fed Tom, Miss Annie's pet Mal-
‘tese cat, that had smelled the coffee
‘too, and was now meowing on the steps
for admittance.
As his mistress opened the door to
let him in, Mr. Wilkins called out, “0,
Miss Annie!”
“What do you want, Mr. Wilkins 9"
answered Annie, with one eve on her
sizzling mutton-chop and coffee-pot and
the other on her neighbor.
He did not teil just what he wanted,
which was, to go into the cheery little
room with its strip of red carpet in front
of theshining stove, and its old fash-
ioned chintz covered rocker, with the
innumerable womanly touches all
about, that presented only too vivid a
contrast to the room next door, sans
red carpet, sans pampered cat, sans
everything but bare necessities, and
not too many of these. All these things
he kept in his mind, while he said :—
“I thought I'd see if you wouldn't
let me chop some wood for you.: 1
need to, you see, get up an appetite for
my boarding-house breakfast, which
ain’t altogether so tempting as some,”
he added, with a rueful glance into the
room with its appetizing odors.
“Dear me, Mr. Wilkins, how kind
Youare! don't think I ought to let
vou, but the fact is I hired a boy to do
the job, and he hasn't been near, so
last night 1 had to chop some, and |
was really afraid I should do myself an
injury, for I had to shut my eyes every
time the axe came down, which made
it a little uncertain just where jt would
come down, you know,” said Miss An-
nie, laughing.
Mr. Wilkins laughed too, and vault. |
ing over the fence, said : “It does heat |
all how women folks never can swing |
an axe or shoot off a pistol with ther |
eyes open! What rood it does to shet |
‘em nobuddy knows, but they allus do
ity, So you see, Miss Annie, it's abso.
Intely necessary to have a man around
for jes’ sechthings.” :
There is no telling how much furth-
er things might have goneif the coffee
pot hadu’t boiled over just at this junc-
ture and the mutton-chop spatterzd hot
fat on the Maltese’s back, which sent
him wildly spitting and growling around
the room. So Miss Annie had her
hands full for a little while. :
After her breakfast was eaten, the
dishes washed and put away in the cup-
board, that hung by the chimney-jamb,
with red curtains inside the glass doors,
Miss Annie disappeared behind an art-
fully contrived screen and made up
her bed, which had been airing ever
since early dawn; then the crimping-
pins came out, and the pretty brown
hair rippled down either side of the
bright Bile face, which this’ morning
for some reason was not as bright as
usual. And, as she tied a white apron |
around her plump ‘waist in ‘place of the
gingham one, she sighed heavily once
or twice, and shook her head somewhat
dubiously ‘as she stepped outside her
screen, all ready now for the work of
the day. Now when a pretty spinster
with an ardent admirer next door sighs
and looks desolate it means something,
and'in this case this was what it
meant: Lona : uid
Years before handsome Jack Addis
and Annie Diamond had been lovers.
Jack was a roving spirit, who was
never contented to stay very long in
one spot, but after his* engagement to
pretty Aunie, every one was delighted
thinking now he ‘would settle ‘down ;
but it only lasted a little while, and
when the Pike's Peak fever broke out
Jach was among the first to go to win
a fortune for his little blue-eyed sweet-
heart, he said, kissing away her tears.
And he had gone gaily away, and had
never returned, nor had any word ever
come from him direct. Annie's blue
eyes were in danger of losing ‘their
brightness then, from the tears she
shed; but by and by she had settled
down to the inevitable, and after the
death of her father and mother, had
opened her millinery shop and been on
the whole not unhappy. But a week
or two before this Squire Addis had
died, and a rumor was floating around
that Jack was coming home to settle
up his father's estate, and Annie's heart
had been stirred by old memories, and
his mistress put him out. . Poor Tom
felt injured beyond expression, and hat-
ing Mrs. Grubbs with all his might,
started off on a mad career of dissipa-
tion. - :
Meanwhile Mrs. Grubbs was comfort-
ably putting Miss Annie on the rack.
“Did you know Jack Addis was to
her knitting-needles flew back and
forth in the coastruction of a. stocking
for young Grubbs. = :
“Yes, I know it,” answered the vic.
tim, quietly.
asked the tormentor, eagarly.
“No, I met him down street was
all. Do you like the way these loops
are put on, Mrs. Grubbs!” said Annie,
holding up ‘the bonnet, © :
“Yes, make em high. Mis’ Cecil
had one on Sunday, week ago, that
came from the city, and it's a regular
sky scraper; but talkin’ ‘bout Jack Ad.
dis, he was down to our house las’
night, an’ him and Grubbs set up mos’
the whole night through, cause he's
anxious to get his paw’s business fixed,
so he could get off this, mornin’! He
made Grubb a sort of agent like. [|
s'pose he fold you bout his wife and
babies, didn’t he ?"* peeting inquisitive-
ly at Annie. Paid
“No, I dida’t talk to him at. all,”
she answered, growing pale, and with a
queer tension around her heart, which
she felt might give ‘way almost any
moment,
“There, this is about done; I think
it's real stylish, don’t you?” she con.
tinued, in a vain effort to stem the tide.
“Yes, it’s right peart now; but about
Jack Addis, seems so he told us that
he writ an’ writ back here, a right
sinart of times, an’ never hesrn ga
word from here, so bime-by he got kind
of wild I reckon, and he féll sick where
he was a boardin’ and his landlady was
a widow, so when he got well I recken
he thought "twas only polite to marry
her, bein’ he hadn't” any money nor
nothin’ else to reward her with. = She
had some children. They've made a
right smart of money, he ‘lowed to the
old man. But lawsey me! I mus be
goin’; I lef’ ali my work, an’ I reeken
the quiet routine of herlifeshaken up a
bit. So this morning as she sat down
to trim Mrs. Grubbs straw bonnet with
darker ribbon for fall, her mind was
full of thoughts of her one time lover.
At last, with a little shake of the head,
she sat up very straight and thus ha-
rangued herself, punctuating her lecture
with emphatic stabs of her needle. —
“Annie Diamond, you are an old
goose! What on earth is the use of
raking up by-gones? Will it make you
a grain happier or better or usefulier ?
Here you've got a good paying busi-
ness, a nice home, a cat for company,
and a neighbor next door to chop your
wood and pass the time of day with
you, and yet, you, you, with your gray
hairs pulled out and more a coming,
and an old maid down to your fingers’
and toes’ ends, aint you ashamed to be
setting here raking up old by-gones ?
Suppose Jack Addis does come home,
is it going to make a mite of difference
to you? Nota grain. Now I'll tell
you what, you write to Jane this after-
noon and tell her you will come over to
Griggsville to spend Thanksgiving with
her. You're getting morbid, and if her
six children don’t holler the nonsense
out of you inside of an hour, saltpetre
won't save you.” So she wrote the let.
ter that day, and when it had grown
the baby’s tumbled in the well by this
time.”
So saying, and having emptied her
gossip bag, she took her bonnet and
her departure. But another and anoth-
er dropped in, some with an excuse
and some without any, but one and all
to see how she took it.
Poor Annie barred her door against
her tormentors that night, with a grim
feeling of delight that now they could
not get in. When she had seated her-
self in her little rocker with her cro-
cheting in her hands, she looked down
at Tom's vacant corner and shook her
head sadly: “0, Tom, Tom,” she
thought, “how conld you run off just
now when I need company ? Well,
Annie Diamond, I do believe you're
getting in your dotage. I know you're
not fool enough to pine after another
woman's husband, but something's
wrong. You need to go to Jane's, that's
certain, and you can bring back one of
the children with you, Not one of the
girls this time, for they will try on every
bonnet in the shop twice a day at least,
but a great, noisy boy.”
And then she arose to answer a
knock at her back-door, and there stood
her neighbor Wilkins with the Prodi-
gal Tom in his arms—Tom, once so
sleek, and now so ragged, with one eve
too dusky for enstomers to come in she
put on her gray shawl and second best
bonnet, tying the strings in a severe |
bow under her chin, and went out to
post it.
She had a sharp wrestle with temp-
tation when she was getting ready, to
put on her best bonnet with two be-
coming knots of red on it, and her crim-
son shawl, because the stage had just
come in, and there was no telling what
might happen; but this was weakness
and conscience frowned it down,
In a very few minutes poor little
Miss Annie came running back with a
white frightened tace as though she
had seen a ghost, as indeed she had—
the ghost of her old time love, Jack
Addis. She had fairly blown up against
closed and in a general disreputable
state. His mistress uttered her favor-
ite little cry of dismay at this spectacle,
whereat Mr. Wilkins, putting him gen-
tly down, said :
“Yes, Miss Annie, here he is; I knew
he'd run away ‘cause I heard you call-
in’ him several times to-day, so when |
went to carry old Smith's boots home
to night, who should come rub.
bin’ up ag’in’ me in the street but old
Tom? I'd never knowed Lim 1f [ hadn't
knowed he was lost. Can I come. in a
few minates, Miss Annie?’ added Mr.
Wilkins, blushing all over his cherubic
face, partly from embarrassment and
partly from a fearfully tight collar which
was doing its best to choke him,
“Why yes, Mr. Wilkins, please ex-
him as he was coming out of the post |
office, for the wind was blowing in |
great gusts; she had known him at once |
and after her little startled cry, he had |
recognized her and hadsaid, “Annie, is |
it you?" and then as she turned and i
fairly ran away, he had let her go and |
had never come afier her,
No one knocked at the door that
evening, and Annie sat long before her
fire, with idle hands folded in her lap, |
while Maltese Tom worried himself in.
to a fever trying to find out what ailed
his rosy, bustling little mistress, who
paid no attention to his landishments, |
but always looked straight before her |
into the fire.
The next morning Mr. Wilkins’s soul |
was troubled within him at the sight |
of his neighbor's white face and quiet |
response to his cheery greeting, “What |
can have happened’ he wondered. If
it’s only one of her sister Jane's young
"uns that's ailin’ I don’t think she'd |
look so smitten like as the flowsrs do |
after the first frost. “Sides,” contin- |
ued the kind-hearted shoemaker
thoughtfully, “if it had been one of |
Jane's young 'unsshe’d likely (old me.”
“Well, T wish't I could help her, for
if there's anybody I sets a store by its
Miss Annie Diamond, town of Mary-
ville, State of Illinoy.” This had such
a legal sound that there was something
comforting in it, so several times that
day the good man repeated, “Miss An-
nie Diamond, town of Maryville, State
of Ilinoy,” each time with “unbounded !
satisfaction.
Meantime his little neighbor was in
a manner fortitying herself against the |
flood of gossip and questions she was
sure she would hear that day. !
Directly after breaktast came Mrs.
Grubbs for her bonnet, and when it was
produced, she found a little fault with
the trimming, and then followed Miss |
Aunie behind the curtain to wait until |
it'was altered. As she sat down heavi-
ly in Miss Annie's rocking chair, she
rocked on Pom’s tail, causing an in-
stantaneous enlargement of the feature,
and a dreadful howl of rage, whereat
| out of me.
cuse me for not asking you before,
please come in; I was so flustered see.
ing Tom looking so, I quite forgot
everything else, and after all your kin-
ness bringing him home too, dear me!”
and Miss Annie flew around to get her
easiest chair for her visitor.
Mr. Wilkins came in and sat down a
trifle gingerly, as though he feared
[ something might break; put his hat ex.
actly under the middle of his chair, and
then sat up and noted the little bright
room with its mistress flying around
to get her wounded per some supper,
and a calm emile of approval broke
over his face.
“I'll do it,” he thought. “I'll do it
if I bust this counfounded collar, and I
hope I will, for its choking the life
I'll ask Miss Annie Dia
mond, town of Maryville, State of 111i
noy ;”' and now Mr. Wilkins knew why
be had liked the sound of these words,
they sounded like a license to him-._:ty
be my wedded wife.”
To think was to act with Mr. Wilkins,
and he thereupon laid his honest heart at
the little milliner’s feet, when withouta
| word and to his great dismay, she burst
| into a flood of tears.
“Bless my heart, Miss Annie” (Dia-
I mond, town of Maryville, State of I)i-
| noy, he was going to add, but thought
! beiter of it), “don’t, I beg, ery! 1
| wouldn't a-grieved you not for nothin’
{nor noboddy,”” he continued, with a
storm of negatives.
But she kept on crying fora few min-
utes, until observing the concern on her
friend’s purple countenance, she stopped
| erying and said as well as she could, +0,
{ Mr. Wilkins, don’t mind me. 1 am fee].
ling kind of hysteriky this evening, and |
(just couldn't helpit. You've been so kind
that T hope you won't think me ungrate-
ful, but really I can't think of marry ing
you or anybody else I--I was going to
harry some one once, you know, iu
things went wrong, and I never Hi URL
think of such a thing again, but 11
Just stay alone all my life.” At which
cheering prospect her tears gushed forth
again.
| “Now that,” said Mr. Wilkins, wich
$0 much earnestness that it is a marvel
hum?” she opened the ball with, as
“Du tell! d’e‘¢éme up ‘to’ see ye 2
that his collar button did not fly, “is
utter nonsense. 1;don’t suy but we both |
had our youth romances, but that's no
ish with loneliness now. T tell you now, |
if you could see my forlorn room just
separated from all this coziness by one
wall, you'd marry mein a purely mis-
sionary spirit.” "Here Miss Annie be-
gan to look interested. “I tell you,’
went’ on the sturdy wooer, “this red
room with its womanly fixins looks
like a bit of heaveu to me. Come now
Annie, don’t be foolish. I'll try and
make you happy, and I'll take care
that frost-bitten look T'see on your face
this mornin’ don’t git there again
through any fault of ‘moine. I aint a
a goin’ home, and leave you to,
think about all T've said.” And Mr.
Wilkins, quite out of breath from his
elosuence and coliar, took his leave.
Annie was surprised to find the ten-
sion about her heart had melted away
and had not killed her, but left her on
the whole much more comfortable.
Meantime things went on about as
usual. Tom licked himself respectable
again. Morning after morning went by
until it ‘was’ very near Thanksgiving.
door open at exactly the right mo- |
ment to sing out, “And how do you find
yourself this ‘morning, Miss Annie?"
and the answer came as usual. “Wy,
Mr. Wilkins, how do you do, sir?’
The wood in Loth yards” was chopped.
The feet and heads of Maryville were
appropriately covered for cold weather,
and one evening Mr. Wilkins appeared
in his neighbor's cosy room.
This time he was not as near strang-
ulation from his collar, which was
about him that caused a gentle flutter
about Miss Annie's heart. “Are you
goin’ to Jane's soon?” he asked.
“Yes, L expect to start day after to-
morrow,” she answered.
“Well, what do you say to being
married up there Thanksgiving even-
ing?” suggested this audacious lover
easily.
Miss Annie almost screamed.
“Mr. Wilkins! the idea! Why I
haven't a thing ready,” she gasped.
“That don’t makea mite of difference,”
calmly replied Mr. Wilkins. «I do
hate a lot of fuss and feathers, don’t you?
Then, too, we can have the partition b2-
tweeen this room and mine knocked out
while we are gone, and you can fix ’em
up.”
Miss Annie was positively speechless.
So after a short pause he arose to take
his leave and added :
“I'll be up night before Thanksgiving
and make all the arrangements ; you
needn’t be to a grain of trouble.”
Annie knew her cause ‘was lost, but
for some reason or other she took kindly
to this peremptory wooing. That night
as she was putting her hair up in erimp-
ing-pins she laughed as she thought,
“Well, that ridiculous man! to think
he should fall in love with me, and see-
f 10oks, let alone mine—-I
ing me every morning with these things
on! It's enough to spoil a beauty ’s
reckon folks
will be surprised.”
CE———— ——————
Comparison of Cows and Sheep.
The hardest work on the farm is
that of dairying, for such work never
be milked regularly. To conduct a
dairy means to rise very early in the
morning, feed the cows, milk, cool the
milk, haul it to the railroad (in all
kinds of weather), and it converted into
butter there is the setting of the milk
for cream, churning, working the but-
ter and clezning the cans and other
utensils, Then the stables are to be
cleaned, bedding arranged, the cows
sent to pasture, all in the forenoon.
Late in the afternoon is more milking,
cooling, feeding and fastening the cows
for the night, a late hon appearing be-
fore the work is finished,
CAPITAL, AND PROFIT FROM COWS.
The amount of lahor necessary in
conducting the dairy business demands
an outlay of capital which is very large,
for it means shelter for the milkers, and
other accommodations, Buildings and
fences, horses and wagons for hauling,
and other adjuncts drain the purse, and
yet the farmer may not make any pro-
fiv av all if the season is unfavorable,
the grass scanty and the hay crop short.
Yet dairying pays despite all these draw.
backs, as a large portion of the prolit
is in the manure, which enriches the
land and adds to the value of the far.
PROFIT FROM SHEEP.
As the sheep is an active forager,and
can subsist on nearly all kinds of food,
the outlay of capital required to make
sheep pay is comparatively small com-
pared with that required for dairying ;
but with more labor devoted 0 sheep
they can be kept to better advantage
and made a specia| branch of industry.
titably kept in large flocks unless they
Lave an extended area of ground, bat
this is shown by the methods practiced
in England to he a delusion. True,
sheep in England are not kept in large
tiocks, but large numbers of sheep, di-
vided into suitable flocks, are hurdled
upon limited spaces, the hurdles re-
higher than some farmes can be pur-
chased in this country the sheep pay.
well. The mutton breeds
kept, as wool is given no at'ention in
England. being classed a by-product, the
sameas hides. Americans ohj «ct to the
hurdling system as being too laborious
ad requiring extra help. A compari-
son of the labor required in the man-
agement of dairy stock with that which
is necessary tor sheep under the hurd-
ling system will show a great advan-
tage in favor of sheep, while the profits
will be much lar_er in proportion to
capital invested and expenses incurred.
With the use of improved breeds and the
hurdling system sheep in Eneland at-
tain the live weight of 300 pounds in
twelve months. With the demand for
choice mutton which aiwavs exists in
ur narkets there is nothing to prevent
he American tarmer trom rivaling his
wother in England.
eras smtsebris sn
~~Michigan’s new 8500 liguor tux
law begins to operate on October 1,
earthly reason why we should each per- |
A writer in Forest and Stream has
oin’ to say any more to-night, hut I'm
2 A Ye led it. Both began to “bore” for worms,
Every morning Mr. Wilkins banged his |
comtort, but there was a resolute air |
ends, there being no holidays or Sun- |
days to afford rest, as the cows mnst |
It is claimed that sheep cannot be pro- |
moved as occasion demands, and on
farms that are rented at sums much
alone are
Woodcocks and their Work,
They Imitate the Sound of Rain dnd the
Worms Come Up.
© ——
this to say on a subject few people have |
thought about. :
When the moon rose I took a position
near one of the moist places, where the |
“borings were freshest ‘and most plenti-
ful, and awaited developments. For ga
long time the bright light of the moon
fell full upon the spot I" wished to ob-
serve, and I could see everything with
the utmost plainness. At about 8 o’-
clock a woodcock dropped down silently
beside the brook.. Presently, another
bird walked out of the shadow and join-
an operation 'l hud never seen before,
and a curious performance it was. The
birds would rest their bills upon the mud
and stand in this position’ for several se-
conds, as if listening. Then with a sud-
den, swift movement, they would sink |
the bill its entire length inthe soil, hold |
it so for a second, and &s swiftly with-
draw it. Though I watched the birds
carefully with the glass, I could not de-
tect the presence of a worm in their
bills when they were withdrawn.
But the subsequent process gave me
the clue to their method of feeding. Af-
{ ter having bored over a considerable
piece of ground—a square foot or more
—they proceeded to execute what look-
ed comically like a war dance upon the
perforated territory. They also occa-
sionally tapped the ground ‘with the tips
of their wings. My intense curiosity to
know the possible utility lof this process
was at length gratified by seeing a worm
crawl, half length from one of the bor-
ings, when it was immediately pounced
upon and devoured by one of the wood-
cock. Presently another worm made its
appearar.ce, and so on until the two
woodcock had devoured ‘as many as a
dozen of them. Then the ‘vein’ seem-
ed exhausted, and the birds took their
leave. ;
-I have subsequently studied the phil-
osophy of this method of digging bait,
and have come to the conclusion that
certain birds are a great dealer wiser
than certain bipeds without feathers. If
you will take a sharpened stick and drive
it into the ground a number of times,
in a spot which is prolific with worms,
and then tap the ground with a stick
for a few minutes, you will find that
worms will come up through the holes
which you have made. 1 account for it
by the supposition thatthe tapping ofthe
stick somehow affects the worms the
same as the patter of rain, anditis a
well-known fact that worms come to the
surface of the ground when it rains.
The antics of the woocdcocks after they
had made their borings, were simply
mimetic, and intended to delude worms
into the belief that it was raining in the
upper world. The worms being deceiv-
ed, came up and were devoured. All
this maygseem ridiculous, but if is it not
true, will some naturalist [please state
how a woodeock can grasp and devour a
worm when its bill is confined in a solid,
tight-fitting tunnel of soil, and also how
itis enabled to know the exact spot
where it may sink its bill and strike the
worm ? And further, of all those who
have seen a woodeock feeding, how
many ever saw it withdrawn a worm
from the ground with its bill ?
Elijah'a 1d the Ravens.
An Eminent Divine Cannot Make the
Incident Apply.
Washiugton Post.
North Carolina probably never produc- |
ed an abler preacher than Dr. Francis LL.
Hawkes, who a quarter of a century ago
was pastor of Grace Episcopal Church,
New York. Short, thick-set, swarthy,
black-eyed ani! black-haired, he was a
striking perscnage. He was not only a |
great pulpit orator, but considered the
best reader in the New York episcopacy. |
His rather luxurious family deterred him |
from accepting a bishopric, whick would |
have been otherwise tendered. One day |
a delegation from a Buffalo church wait-
ed upon and invited him to accept a
pastorate in that city.
“Well, gentlemen, other things being
satisfactory, th question of acceptance |
narrows down to a business matter,”
said Dr. Hawkes. “What salary do
yuo offer 2”
“Dr. Hawkes," said the spokesman,
‘we recognize that you have a high re-
putation and are willing to be liberal.
Our recent pastor has received $2,500,
but on account of your standing we have |
decided to offer you $3,500.”
“My good man,” cried the doctor,
gasping, ‘do you know what salary I.
an receiving here?”
#tNo, sir.’
“I get $15,000 and this parsonage, and
as I have an expensive family I do not
see my way to accept your offer,”
The spokesman looked rather sheep-
ish, but made another essay.
“If we had known that fact, sir, we
would un doubtedly have looked else-
where ; but you should remember that
| the work of the Lord must be done, and
| as to providing for your family, you |
| know the story of the ravens 277
“Now, my friends,” responded the
clerayman, quizzically, “1 have made
the Bible my study ever since I was 28,
I have read it through carefully and
| prayerfully over a hundred times. I
| remember the raven incident perfectly,
but nowhere can I find any reference to
|
|
|
the TLoid’s providing for young
Hawkes.”
tn re rm mn
Some Very Startling Figures,
New York Herald
Our neighbor Seicnce goes into a
mathematical calculation of the pros-
pective population of this country one
hundred years from now, which is very
interesting.
In the course of its Arguiient some
statistics of the past ave given, aud
they are well worth looking over,
For instance, our population in 1750
was 1,260,000. Ar the ena of thirty
vears, in 1780, it had reached 2,945,000.
At the end of thirty years more, the
lifetime of a generation, 1810, it stood |
at 7,239.881. In the course of another
generation, or in 1840, it was 17.069,- |
453. At the present time the ficures |
run up to the neighborhood of 65,000, |
000. |
[t this ratio of increase is a fair Lasix |
for prediction we shall have a* the time!
when the 10-year old boy of to-day
shall be 40 years of age, in 1920, some
thing like 160,000,000 of people in the
United States, and when that man’s
40 reaches his 70th birthday, 1950,
we shall have close upon 400,000,000.
That man’s son, who will be in “the
youth of his old age” in 1990, one
hundred years from now, wiil be the
citizen of a republic with a population
of more than 1,000.000,000.
these figures are rather appalling.
They are in the region of the unthink.
‘able, and so far beyond the reach of our
imagination that are practically value-
less.
Events may happen which will ma-
teriallyfimpede this progress of numbers.
Bat even if we cut the sum total down
fifty per cent., which would seem to be
discount enough for any emergency,
we still have a population of five
hundred millions as the result of anoth-
er century of national life.
Train the Girls.
According to an exchange when a
girl is ten years old, she should be given
household duties to perform according
to her size and strength, for which a
sum of money should be paid her week-
ly. She needs a little pocket money,
and the knowledge Low to spend it judi-
ciously, which can so well be given by a
mother to her little girl. She should be
required to furnish a part of her ward-
robe with this money. For instance, if
she gets ten cents’ a day, she should
purchase all her stockings, or all her
gloves, as her mother may decide, and
doing this under her mother’s supervi-
sion, she will soon learn to trade with
judgment and economy. Of course, the
mother will see to it that the sum is suf.
ficient to do this, and yet leave a trifle
for the child to spend as she pleases.
This will supply a healthy stimulus, it
will give her a proper ‘ambition and
pride in her labor and ability to use
money properly. © As she grows older
these household duties should be increas-
ed, with the proporiionate increase of
money paid for the performance of them.
We know ofa lady who divided the
wages of a servant among her three
daughters. There is a systematic ar-
rangement of their labors, which is
done with a thorougliness and alacrity
found neither with a hired girl or a
daughter who feels that she has to do it
with nothing to encourage or stimulate
her in the work.
—According to the Washington cor-
respondent of the Cincinnati Commercial
Gazette, an interesting, not to say valua-
ble discovery has been made by Captain
Weedin, in charge of the animals at the
Zoo. The building is infested by rats,
and how to get rid of them has long
been a perplexing question. Traps were
used, but nothing would tempt the ro-
dents to enter. Ina store room drawer
was placed a quantity of sunflower seeds,
used as food for some of the birds. Into
this drawer the rats gnawed their way,
a fact which led the captain to experi-
ment with them for bait in the traps.
The result was that the rats can’tbe kept
out. A trap which appears crowded
with six or eight rats is found some
mornings to hold fifteen.
All Sorts of Paragraphs,
—!‘Prof.”? Wisoins,
dicts an open winter.
—The month with an r in it is here,
and oysters are now ripe.
—A post-office in North Carolina is
to be named “Baby McKee.”
—It is now asserted that there are
fully eighty varieties of tomato,
—An Eastern Ohio man only thirty-
four years of age is a grandfather.
—There will be no ‘“watering-place
season’ after the 20th of September.
—Fourteen hundred men are now em-
ployed at the Brooklyn navy yard.
—New England is having no lack of
of Ottawa, pre-
{ quarter-millennial anniversaries nowa-
days.
—A post-office in Fulton county, Pa.,
bears the brief and unromantic name of
Sis 7
— Boston spent about $100,000 dur-
ing the vacation ‘scason on her school
houses. ;
—Jay Gould thinks governmental
control of the telegraph both practical
and advisable.
—Alice Liebmann, aged nine, is as-
tonishing London critics with her skill
on the violin,
—P. Myett, accompanied by a dog,
| has driven in a buggy from California
to Pennsylvania.
—The mouth of Calumet river, empty-
ing into Lake Michigan, has moved
east 2,800 feet since 1836.
—Tatah county, Idaho, boasts of a
genuine ice mine, with veins from one
to four inches thick.
—In Paris something new are silk
and linen handkerchiefs made in the
form of a leaf with a stem.
—General Albert Pike, the head of
all the Masonic orders and rites in this
country, is in his 80th year.
—The outgoing European steamers
from New York are no longer crowded.
It is now the season to come home,
——D. L. Moody is preparing to open
an evangelistic training school in Chi-
cago, to continue througout the year.
—There was a reunion of the Smith
family in Peapack, N. J., the other day,
but only 3,000 of them were present.
—Thenew Constitution of the State of
Montana is said to be ten times as long
as the Constitution of the United State.
—The people of the United States
spend $25,000,000 yearly for baking
powder—so says an official report pro-
mulgated at Washington.
—In point of service the oldest pilot
on the Hudson river is Ezra I. Hunter.
who has stood at the wheel for forty-
eight consecutive years,
—-Chus. Young, a colored cadet, crad-
uated from West Point, a few days ago,
being the second negro to receive a
diploma from that institution.
—-Hermann, the magician, was ho-
cus-pocussed out of $650 the other day.
Even a slight of-hand professor has to
look very sharp after his cash these days.
~~The first monument to Genera]
Grant in this country is to be unveiled
this month at Fort Leavenworth, the
post where he passed nis early career as
a soldier,
dn”