Demonic Wald
Bellefonte, Pa., July i8, #890.
JOSEPH'’S BONES.
BY H. M.S.
And Moses took the bones of JIeseph with
him; for he had straitly sworn the chil-
dren of Israel, saying, God will surely visit
you; and ye shall carry my bones away hence
with you.—Ex. xiii., 19; Josh. xxvi,, 31.
Alone in solemn grandeur, beneath the.eastern
skies, :
Where the fiery pillar gleameth, the precious
casket lies;
, For God’s owu servant, Moses,
Is faithful to his trust,
And in the wild reposes
The patriarchal dust.
And like a mighty sentinel it seemeth ward to
ee
O’erdhe ally host of Israel, calm in their
midnight sleep,
With the stars so mildly beaming
From the deep blue vault above,
And the heavenly fire streaming
Q’er the people of God’s love.
With reverence it is lifted by that brave le
brew band ; ;
With Ro care they bear it far from Egyptian
an ’
While in the sunlight glances,
And in the evening gloam,
That caravan advances
Towards the promised home.
No Pharaoh in his glory, with triumpet, bow |
and spear,
Could boast such gorgeous escort as Joseph on
his hier,
With the anthems loudly ringing
Throughout that land so fair,
And the priests ot Levi flinging
Their incense on the air.
With the cloud it moveth onward until the
march is o'er, :
Whilst those that walk beside it are dropping
score by score ;
On desert plains some sleeping,
Some'neath the mountain’s mist,
Where beasts of prey are keeping
In Moab's vale their tryst.
The weary journey ended, they have laid it in
the grave :
On the western side of Jordon, where the palms
of Shechen wave.
Now, Israel, furl your banners,
Your voiee in gladness raise—
Shout, shoutthe loud Hosanna
In great Jehovah's praise !
Observer.
OLD UNCLE BILL.
Any one who should visit Mr. Norris
at his fine place on the Hudson would
be sure to notice, after a while, an old
man who wandered about the place
dressed all summer in awhite shirt and
linen vest and trousers and a fisher-
man’s hat, and all winter in a woolen
dressing gown. He was a meek, tall,
bald old man, and people at first took
him for a superannuated old servant;
but finally, his nice linen, his neat
hands, and a certain well bred tone of
voice, if by chance, they heard him
speak, made them ask ; :
“Who is that 2"
If they inquired of Miss Belle, the
eldest unmarried daughter, she would
answer:
“An old connection of poor mam-
ma's. I can’t see why pa has him
here—horrid thing !”
It they asked Mr. Norris’ maidensic
ter, she would reply :
“One of the blessings my late sister-
in-law brought with her into the fami.
ily. A miserable ne’er-do weel of a
relation.”
If the question were propounded to
pompous Mr. Norris, as hie sat in his
armchair on his piazza, or drove about
his property in one of his handsome
vehicles, he would answer :
“Well, that's a sort of a relation of
my wife's, a ne’er-do-weel. The black
sheep of the flock, you know. Always
is one in every family. For her sake
—she was a very benevolent woman—
we let him stay about. He prefers eat-
ing by himself. He's very stupid,very ;
bat she wanted him here, aud she had
her way, poor soul. I grudged her
nothing. Yes, that’s poor Bill.”
But if it was Miss Phemie of whom
the question was asked, she always an-
swered :
“Why that is Uncle Bill. He's a
little eccentric, but the dearest old soul.
I'm very found of him, aad he of me.
Dear old Uncle Bill I”
Certainly Phemie was the old man’s
only friend in that pompous household.
She it was who went up to his little
room with his meals and sat with him
while he ate them ; who saw that he
had the newspaper and his pipe; who
had fixed that little out of the way
place with a pretty carpet,book shelves,
a student’s lamp, lots of pretty orna-
ments in worsted and painted silk ; who
never received her monthly allowance
without buying something for him.
His pretty, snow white shirts were
her gift, and she saw that they were
“done up” properly. The flannel
dressing gown he wore in winter was
of her contrivance. In fact, up in that
dormer roofed room there were hours
that were more home-like than any
spent in the great parlors, or the big
dining-room, where Miss Belle was
only affectionate to ‘pa’ when she
wanted him to give her more money to
spend ; and Miss Norris,the eldest sister
of the master of the house, made bitter
speeches in the pauses of the needle
work in which she was perpetually en-
gaged, sometimes directed at her
brother, sometimes at Belle, sometimes
at Phemie, but all worded so circam-
spectly and clothed in such a guise of
piety that no one dared resent them,
“What a comfort you are, Uncle
* Bill,” Phemie would say, as she poured
out the old man’s coffee.
“And what a comfort you are, Phe-
mie,” old Uncle Bill would say. “If I
was a rich uncle, just home from In-
dia, jlilce those in plays and novels,jyou
couldn’t make more of me,”
“I shouldn’t make so much, uncle,”
Phemie would answer, “ for you'd be a
victim of liver complaint, and that
would make you ill natured, and you'd
scold me and say naughty words. They
all do, you know. Now you haven't
any money or stocks to worry about,
like poor pa; and you're not irritable,
and I like to be with you. You're like
mamma, too, You have her eyes.”
“You are sister Susan's image,” the
old man would say. ‘Do you remem-
ber the day that you came to the hos-
pital with her ?”
“Yes,” said Phemie. “1 was just 12
years old and mamma was crying over
the telegram. “My only brother, Phe-
mie,’ sne said, ‘so sick that he may:
die, and so poor that he's in a hospital.
Then we came and I saw you in bed,
and after a while we brought you
home and ma nursed you well again.”
“And died herself, just as I got
about,” said Unele Bill. “And your
father and the west did not like a
shabby oid man around the house.
Well, T was lucky to geta home,I sup-
pose, and luckier still to find such dis-
interested love 2s yours. You're like
Susan. Shc was the dearest girl that
ever lived. Yes, you're like Susan.”
But they did not always talk thus.
They were very busy often, over books;
over Phemie’s embrodiery, for which
he designed patterms; teaching her lit-
tle dog a thousand tricks ; feeding the
blind kitten Phemie saved from drown-
ing ; making a little well, from which
the canary drew buckets of water. And
Phemie and the old man would wander
off to the river side, where he would
fish, seldom catching anything, and
she would read or knit.
None of the family knew of these in-
stances. Belle, older than Phemie by
six years, preferred chat she should
considered herself a chid until Miss
Norris was married. And Aunt Marcia
detested her for her resemblance to the
sister-in-law who “had never been con-
genial.”
No one in the house knew, but some
one not of the household did, and shar-
{ ed at times in them.
Sometimes, when the old man’s rod
dangled over the water, a younger ang-
ler would take his place near him—a
handsome young fellow with black
hair and the brightest eyes in the
world ; and then the hours went by
like hours in a dream, and Phemie felt
hapoy as she had felt when a child by
her mother's side. And Uncle Bill
laughed and told fisherman’s stores.
As for the young man, silent or talka-
tive, he was always charming. So
thought Phemie. She was 17; she
had never had a lover. She was well
read in romantic lore. What happen-
ed was only to be expected. In a little
while two lovers sat beside old Uncle
Bill on the banks of the pretty stream,
and walked together as far as the little
gate in the hedge that nobody else used
and did not hide from the old man that
they parted with a kiss.
Fred Howard was not a fashionable
man, only the ec of a poor widow who
had made a bockkeeper of her boy.
What holidays he had he spent at
home. This was his midsummer va-
cation ; he was bright, and good, and
handsome, but Mr. Norris surely would
have had other views for his youngest
daughter.
And so, one day, as the two, having
met accidentally on the road, were talk-
ing together, with an expression on
either face that made an old country
lady who drove past remark to her hus-
band: “Hiram, take my word for it,
them’s beaus,” Mr. Norris marched up
behind the pair, and appeared like a
very florid ghost between them, with
an:
“I was not aware, Mr. Howard, that
you had ever been introduced to my
daughter!”
The young man blushed, but answer-
ed: “But I have, sir—by my friend,
her uncle.”
“Oh!” replied Mr. Norris, lowering
his tone a little. “Then you know my
brother, Mr. Whipple Norris, in the
city? He is a relative I am proud of
—worth half a million if he is worth
a cent.”
“T often heard of Mr. Whipple Nor-
ris,” replied the young man frankly,
“but I owe my introduction to Miss
Phemie Norris to ber Uncle William—
ah—ah.” The young man suddenly
remembered that he did not know Un-
cle Bill's last name.
“Her Uncle William !”” repeated Mr.
Norris. “Euphemia,does young How-
ard allude to your poor mother’s unfor-
tunate brother Bill 2”
Phemic bowed her head.
“Young Howard I" repeated Mur.
Norris. “That person has no author
ity to introduce my daughter. Consider
vourself a stranger to her henceforth.”
Phemie looked at Fred. Fred look-
"ed at Phemie.
“Tt is too late, sir,” the latter said.
“I love your daughter, and have won
her heart. She has promised to be my
wife.”
Mr. Norris stared at him, lifted his
eyebrows; stared again through his
double eyeglass, and spoke sternly :
“I have one daughter who is a credit
to me. Lord McTab paid great aiten-
tion to her last winter. He has writ
ten to ask my consent to their nuptials,
which I shall give, and he will return
in the fall to be married to her. An
English nobleman would hardly like a
brother-in-law who makes, perhaps,
twenty dollars a week. My eldest
daughter, Mrs. Timpkins Trotter, has
married a gentleman who is esteemed
the wealthiest man in Mineville. My
son is with my brother in New York—
amen [am proud of. Now I shall
never make a fuss about Phemie. I
only tell you this: If she marries you
I disown her. You can take her if she
chooses. I shall never give her a pen-
ny. She may have her clothes and
trinkets and go. If she obeys me she
aball be, married or single, well provi-
ded for. She is plain and unprepos-
sessing; but I know a young clergy-
man who will attain eminence who on-
ly: needs my permission to propose.
She might do very well with a proper
portion for him. She has a thick waist,
a large mouth and ordinary features,”
continued Mr. Norris, turning his eye-
glass on his daughter, “but a clergy-
man should not look for beauty.”
“She is the prettiest girl [ know, and
if I may earn her bread and butter I
can do it,” said Fred Howard. “You
give her to me, sir?”
“No,” replied Mr. Norris. “She may
give herself to you if she chooses to be
a beggar.” :
Then he walked-away.
As Phemie and Fred stood looking
at each o'her old Uncle Bill's head
arose above the shrubbery.
“I give my permission,” he said, !
with more than usual dignity ; “and I
am her mother’s brother. I think you
will make her happy, young Fred
Howard.”
The maiden aunt and the sister, who
was to be the bride of an Englishman,
led Phemie a sad life of it for a while;
Jbut one morning she walked out of her
home in the simple church going cos-
tume, and was married in the little
chapel of St. Jonh. Old Uncle Bill, in
his old fashioned broadcloth suit, went
with them, and gave the bride away.
Mrs. Howard was there, and a school
friend of Phemie’s and a fellow clerk
of Fred's. None of the Norris family.
And after the wedding they were to go
upon a little trip. Phemie’s trunks
had been sent to Fred's mother’s little
house. The bride was not as happy as
she might have been under other cir-
cumstances, but at home no one had
ever loved or considered her since her
mother's death ; and Fred loved her,
and she loved him. Her only trouble
was that she must leave old Uncle Bill.
“That is hard,” the old man said,
“very hard, Phemie.”” And then Fred
held ont his hand.
“Uncle Bill,” he said, “we shall live
in a very plain way, but if you will
live with us we will do our best to
make you happy and shall be happy
ourselves.”
“Will you be so, boy ?”’ cried Uncle
Bill. “A poor old man like me—eh!
really 2”
“Really!” cried Phemie, dancing
with joy.
“Really and truly, heaven knows!”
And Fred grasped his hand and shook
it. “You brought us together, Uncle
Bill,” he said.
“It’s lucky,” answered Uncle Bill,
“for Brother-in-law Norris has turned
me out of his house for aiding and
abetting you—told me that I might be
town poor if [ liked. I didn’t, but I
just said : ‘Very well ; I'll go.”
“T’ll get your things and take them
to mother’s” said Fred. “You'll be
company for her while we're gone;
after that, one home for all of us.”
Then the old man looked at them
with a smile ; looked at Mrs. Howard
with another, and laughed his sweet,
good natured laugh.
“You're two good, honest, generous
children,” he said. “And you're Fred's
mother, ma'am. But I've an explana-
tion to make. Five years ago my sister
Susan heard that I was sick and at a
hospital and took me to her house.
She nursed me back to tolerable health,
and was very good to me. Then,sweet
angle she died. She thought that
being in a hospital meant poverty. I
was paying fifty dollars a week there.
I have a fortune that even Mr. Norris
would respect, but seeing what he was,
1 I took a fancy that I'd find out what
his children were. I have. I've lived
about the place as old Uncle Bill, a
poor relation. I wasn’t wanted, even
at table. I was despised by all but
Phemie. She, dear little soul, has
been a daughter to me. I told Sister
Susan the truth on her death bed, and
promised to do my best by this sweet
girl ; and my money has been growing
under good care for five years. Why,
had I been the beggar they thought me,
I'd have gone to an almshouse rather
than eat Norris’ bread all these years.
As it was, I enjoyed the joke. To
think how he would have respected me
(if he had known the truth. How he
scorned me for being poor, when 1 was
a wealthy man ; but let all that pass;
we are happy together and what need
we care?’
There was great excitement at the
Norris mansion when the news reach-
ed its inhabitants, and Mr. Norris sent
a formal forgiveness to his dauchter.
She was a good girl and felt glad
that this was so, but she only began to
know what real happiness was in the
home where she and those who truly
loved her lived contentedly together
for many long and pleasant years.
Catching a Wild Turkey,
The wild turkey is a famous runner,
and relies more upon his legs than upon
his wings when pursued. When the
birds are found upon the open prairie,
therefore, the chase, for a man on horse-
back, becomes really exciting. Colonel
Dodge says that in Texas, many years
ago,he used occasionally to kill them with
a stick from horseback. A flock being
discovered on a prairie two or three
miles across, a detour was made, and
the horseman, coming up from the wood,
rushed with a yell at the birds, frichten-
ing them so badly that some would fly
to the open prairie.
The first flight was from four hundred
to six hundred yards, depending on the
weight and fatness of the bird. At the
end of his first flight he would probably
be two or three hundred yards ahead of
the horseman, but this distancejwas soon
lessened after he alighted.
On the near approach of his pursuer
he would essay another flight, this time
scarcely one hundred or two hundred
yards. A third flight generally finished
all wing business, and his further efforts
at escape were confined to running and
dodging. A stick four feet long and as
large as one’s finger ‘was AR. by the
hunter, and as the turkey turned to
avoid the horse, a smart blow on the
head finished its life and the race. In
this way I one day killed two turkeys,
and a brother officer three, from one
flock.
Some days after, another officer from
the same post went out riding with his
wife. Comingupon a flock of turkeys
in a favorable position, he proposed that
they should catch one. :
After an exciting chase, a fine large
bird was run down so that he could
scarcely move, and confined himself
solely to avoiding the feet of the horses.
The officer had no stick to kill with,
and in his excitement, thinking he could
easily catch a bird so exhausted, be
sprang from his horse, and took after
the turkey on foot. He ran his best,
but the bird ran fast enough to avoid
his clutch, and finally, when utterly
blown and exhausted he gave up the
chase, he turned to see his horse dis-
appearing in the distance, and his wife
on her horse in full pursuit of the run-
away.
He had to walk about eight miles to
the post, and for some months it was
not quite safe to say ‘turkey’ to him.
Rich Without Money.
Many a man is rich without money.
Thousands of men with nothing in their
pockets, and thousands without even a
pocket, are rich. A man born with a
good, sound constitution, a good sto-
mach, a good heart and good limbs and
prety ‘good gheadpiece is rich.
nes are better than gold; tough
muscles than silver; and nerves that
flash fire and carry energy to every
function are better than houses snd
land. It is better than a landed
estate to have the right kind of a father
and mother. Education may do much
to check evil tendencies or to develop
good ones; but itis a great thing to
inherit the right proportion of faculties
to start with. The man is rich who has
a good disposition, who is naturally
kind, patient, cheerful, hopeful, and who
has a flavor of wit and fun in his com-
positiou.
The hardest thing to get on with in
this life is a man’s own self. A cross
selfish fellow, a desponding and com-
plaining fellow, a timid and care-burd-
ened man—these are all born deformed
an the inside. They do not limp, but
their thoughts some times do.—Clay
Manufacturer's Engineer.
The Starving Caravan.
Stanley Describes a Terrible March
Through the African Forest.
Ah, it was a sad sight, unutterably
sad, to see so many men struggling on
blindly through that endless forest, fol-
lowing one white man, who was bound
whither none knew, whom most believed
did not know himself! They were in a
veritable hell of hunger already ! What
nameless horrors awaited them further on
none could conjecture. But what mat-
ter, death comes to every man soon or
late! Therefore we pushed on and on,
broke through the bush, trampled down
the plants, wound along the crest of
spurs zigzagging from northeast to
northwest, and ascending to a bowl
like valley by a clear stream, lunched
on our corn and berries.
During our midday halt, one Umari
having seen some magnificent and ripe
fenssie at thetop of a tree sixty feet
high, essayed to climb it; but on gain-
ing that height, a branch or his strength
yielded, and he tumbled headlong
upon the head of two other men
who were waiting to seize the fruit.
Strange to say, none of them were very
seriously injured. Umari was a little
lame in the hip, and one ot those upon
whom he fell complained of a pain in
the chest.
At 3.30, after a terrible struggle
through a suffocating wilderness of
arums, amoma, and bush, we came to a
dark amphitheatral glen, and at the bot-
tom found a camp just deserted by the
natives, and in such hot haste that they
thought it best not to burden themselves
with their treasures. Surely some divin-
ity provided for us always in the most
distressful hours | Two bushels of Indian
curn and a bushel of beans awaited us
in this camp. ;
My poor donkey from Zanzibar show-
ed symptoms of surrender. Arums and
amoma every day since June 28th, were
no fit food for a dainty Zanzibar ass,
therefore to end his misery I shot him.
The meat was as carefully shared as
though it were the finest venision, for a
wild and tamished mob threatened to
defy discipline. When the meat was
fairly served a free fight took place over
the skin, the bones were taken up and
crushed, the hoofs were ‘boiled for hours,
there was nothing left of my faithful an-
_imal but the spilled blood and hair ; a
pack of hyenas could not have made a
more thorough disposal of it.— Henry
M. Stanley, in Scribner.
A Great Festival.
It is a curious illustration of the sensi-
tiveness of certain portions of the ani-
mal kingdom that the Chinese always
expect the hatching of the silk worms
to come immediately upon the first
thunder of the spring. Every year at
that season there is a great parade and
ceremonial, which shows how large a
portion of the national wealth the silk
cultivation has come to be considered
by them, a parade that takes the form
of an act of worship to Loui Tsen, the
wife and queen of the Emperor Hoang
Ti, in the remote of eld, the person
who first bred silk-worms for the sake of
their cocoons. Now the Empres
China goes every year at the time of
this early thunder to the mulberry fields,
and there she and all her retinue of
pomp and pride offer sacrifice to Loui.
The sacrifice made, she proceeds with
the women of her court, and with a
crowd of the peasant women engaged in
silk culture, to cook over a fire, with
her own hands, some mulberry leaves,
and to lay them in a basket with some
of the young cocoons, To complete the
business she then winds a cocoon herself,
all in the way of teaching the women
that it is work that even an empress
cannot afford to despise. And the festi-
val ends by a presentation of gifts or
prizes to those women whose names are
given by the authorities intrusted with
their inspection as the most faithful in
attention to the silkworm.— Bazar.
A Chance to Redeem Pennsylvania.
From the New York Commercial Advertiser
(Ind. Dem.)
The Democrats of Pennsylvania have
shown whas contrasts in politics are.
The Scranton Convention has nominat-
ed a ticke: composed of men of the
highest character, and has placed them
upon a platform of principles which is
clear, straightforward and unequivocal ;
and has done it without the interven-
tion of any boss or anything more than
such management as is necessary to
command the best results.
It would be difficult to present a
political contrast more strongly than
that between the action of Republican
Convention last week in nominating a
candidate slated two) years before, and
that of the Democrats this week in
choosing as a candidate a man who six
weeks ago had not been thought of for
the place. This jwas done in spite of
the fact that Mr. Pattison did not en-
ter the field until nearly half the dele-
gates to the Convention had been
chosen "without referer.ce to him, and
really with the idea that Mr. Wallace
was about the only candidate who
would present himself for nomination.
But the conditions changed so quick.
of |
ly as to make it apparent that an abso-
lutely unexceptionable candidate was
necessary, not only to the Democratic
party of that State and to its friends
throughout the country, but to satisfy
the independent sentiment so strongly
developed among the Republicans. No
other candidate who could be nomi-
nated, or who could accept a nomi-
nation, filled all these requirements
so well as did Mr. Pattison. He had
been tried and not found wanting.
Daring his four years service as Gov-
ernor he gave the State an honest,
dignified and independent administra-
tion—scmething it had not had for
nearly a generation. Young as he
was, inexperienced in the larger politics
as he could but be, he nevertheless gave
so much to his State that its people have
since looked upon him as a model Ex-
cutive ; and itis not surprising that
they take the first opportunity to
signify their approval of his policy
by nominating him.
‘While it is unsafe to make predictions |
| lecture :
ine politics, especially in the face ofa
majority of from 60,000 to 80,000,
there is every reason to hope that the
people of Pennsylvanir will show that
they are not bound to political taskmas-
ters. But there ought to be no doubt
whatever of the election of Pattison
and Black to the positions they held
from 1883 to 1837, and if the Independ-
ent Republicans of the State have
that aversion to boss methods which
they profess, and the attachment to
their State they ought to have, these
men will serve Pennsylvania from 1891
to 1895 with the same honesty and fidel-
ity that they did during a similar period
eight years before.
A Worthless Vindication.
The New York Independent refuses
to consider the resolution of Senator
Quay’s Convention indorsing Senator
Quay as a vindication. It says:
7It is known to everybody in the
United States who belongs to the read-
ing public that the gravest charges have
been publicly made and strongly sup-
ported against Senator Quay. These
charges involve the commission of a
crime. It is alleged that when he was
State Treasurer, on two different occa-
sions, he took large amounts of money
from the State Treasury and invested it
foa his own purposes. On one of these
occasions the investment was successful,
and the money was returned. On the
other occasion the investment was no
successful, and certain wealthy men, it
is said, were appealed to to help him
out of the difficulty. To save a party
scandal they advanced him the money,
and it was restored to the State Treas-
ury .
"These are, in substance, the charges,
and they are given with such particu-
larity of details, with names, dates,
places and circumstances, that if they
were not true it would have been an
easy matter to expose their falsehood.
They have not been specifically denied.
Toward them Senator Quay has observ-
ed the policy of utter silence. The fact
that the alleged crime was committed
vears ago does not make it less shameful
or shocking, nor less indefensible that
such a man, unpurged, should continue
to be recognized as a party leader.”
The Independent insists that such
specific charges cannot be met by reso-
lution, and adds: ‘The only possible
vindication is that which shall come as
a verdict of a committee or Court, after
a full examination of the whole sub-
ject.”
The action of the Republican Con-
vension in indorsing Quay, instead of
spreading slave on a sore spot, has made
it more conspicuous. Explanations should
be at once forthcoming from Mr. Quay
and Mr. Delamater. They both stand
in the pillory, charged by respectable
and responsille persons with caiminal
actions which, is proven, should debar
them from honorable positon in the
public service.
Pattison’s Chance of Election,
Last Saturday Hon. Wm. L. Scott
was interviewed in New York on the
subject of Ex-Governor Pattison’s nom-
ination. To the question, “Can he be
elected,” he replied :
“What a question to ask me; Of
course we think he can be elected. He
won once before. He has a fair chance
to win again. But let me first say to
you that a nomination such as Pattison
as received is no small endorsement.
Pennsylvania has more Democratiz
voters than any State in the Union ex-
cept New York, We have more than
Ohio. The normal Republican major-
ity, when every vote is out, is not over
85,000 to 40,000, and that is what Pat-
tison will have to overcome, because
there will be a full vote this year. If
the Republican revolt does not amount
to that many votes, then there are few-
er independent and honest Republicans
than we count on. The Democrats of
Pennsylvania, numbering 400,000 to
450,000, have stood by their colors un-
der exceptional circumstances. We
have fought year after year on the hot-
bed of Republican villainy in this coun-
try—a forlorn hope. We have had
neither patronage nor favor. The grear
manufacturers, the big corporations, the
railroads and the Standard Oil Company
have ail been against us, and have al-
lowed the fat to be fried out of them to
carry on the war against us. It is be-
cause the task has seemed hopeless that
Democrats have failed to come out to
the poll and allowed Republicans to re-
gister 80,000 and 9),000 majority. We
shall get out our full vote this year, be-
cause we have a good fighting chance.
An indorsement by the Democrats of
Pennsylvania means something more,
you can see, than a noa ination in a rot-
tén borough like Nevada, Colorado or
Idzho, with a handful of votes, declared
into n State.”
“Is Pattison’s nomination a Cleve-
land victory ?”’
“It is not anybody's victory but the
people’s,
1892 until we get to it. The decent
Republicans are in open revolt in Penn-
sylvania, and have promised their sup-
port to Pattison. They gave it to him
once before and we elected him, and
now we naturally hope to repeat the
operation.”
—— “What's that on your collar,
Jack ? Been calling ?”’ ¢Ya-as. You
see, my girl hasn't got onto this new
smokeless powder yet.”
i salt to taste.
We are not looking after | Made by reserving three whites and
A Parrot that Doesn’t Like Chestnuts.
A friend tells this story about a par-
rot and vouches for its truth. It must
have been a worderful bird that, but
belonged to one of those fellows who
are always in hard luck. One day
he found himself reduced to hard pan
in the way of finances and left his
greenhued exile from Afric’s coral
strand at his uncle’s.” Every day af-
ter that when he passed the shop the
parrot would be hanging over the door
and would cry out in beseeching tones :
“Pete, Pete, when are you going to
take me out ?”’
Another peculiarity of his was that
whenever any one said ‘hulle’ to him
he would reply :
“Hullo, but for God’s sake don’t ask
me if IT want any crackers.”’— Provi-
dence Telegram.
The Corporal’s Promise.
Corporal Tanner related this in his
One day as he lay tossing
feverishly about in the army hospital
a lady of uncertain ace entered the
warl with a basket and a bundle.
Old soldiers will understand with what
avidity the wounded men eyed that
basket, and, as she stopped at the bed-
side of Tanner, his mouth watered in
anticipation of a delicious treat.
“Young man,’ said the woman solemn-
ly, “are you ready for the
great change awaiting you?’ He
hoped he was. ‘Well, young man,”
continued she in that same sepulchral
tone, ‘take this; and when you get
well, if you ever do, it may do you
good.” And she took from the bundle
a track,—and laid it tenderly on the
bed. ‘Thank you, madam, thank you,”
said Tanner, with sudden vigor, as he
noticed the title, “On the Evilsjof Danc-
ing,” and calling back the old maid,
he swore a solemn oath never to dance
as long as he lived. The Corporal had
just had both legs amputated.—Cincin-
nati Times-Star.
Desecration of the Sabbath.
‘We had better be a little careful in
our eulogies of Christian America, be-
cause the facts don’t allow usto go far
in that direction. For example, in St.
Louis on a recent Sunday, 40,000 peo-
ple are said to have witnessed a cow-
boy exhibition, 20,000 were out to see
the boys in knee breeches and colored
bose bat the balls, while another 20,-
000, more considerate than the rest, spent
the day in the beer gardens. The total
church attendance on the same day
aggregated but 10,000. Careful esti-
mates from other cities make no bet-
ter showing, and some even worse.
It is evident that something must be
done to popularize church services or
ministers and meeting houses will be
things of the past. This is a very seri-
ous picture for thoughtful minds to
contemplate. If Sabbath desecration is
allowable forone purpose, it is allowable
for all purposes. If it is not incompatible
with the enlightened Christian senti-
ment of the age to play base ball, fre-
quent beer gardens or attend cowboy
exhibition: on the Sabbath, it certainly
cannot be wrong to engage in useful
manual labor on that day, and when
we recognize that principle the Sabbath
is gone, and with it will go almost
everything of value.
Death in the Desert.
The Horrible Experience of a Party of
Invading Chinese.
It has just come to light that a party
of Chinese, who attempted to smuggle
themselves into the United States from
Lower California, got lost on the desert
and had a terrible experience, one of
the party dying of thirst and exposure.
They found the frontier so closely
guarded that they stole a march toward
the eastward and got into the desert.
Here they got lost and wandered aim-
lessly around for several days, suffering
unutterable agonies. ;
One of the Mongolians was a youth of
gome fourteen years. He gave out un-
der the terrible suffering’ and became
crazy. In his raving he imagined the
blistering sands were limpid water and
eagerly filled his parched mouth with
the burning particles. This only added
to his horrors, and pretty soon he lay
down to die, his companions being in too
pitiful a condition to render him any as-
sistance. Here they heaped a pile of
sand upon him and left him alone to
sleep his last long slumber, while they
with swollen tongue, aching limbs and
heavy hearts continued their aimless
wanderings-—lost in a trackless desert.
It is asserted that they at last reached
the railroad and. soon reached Los
Angeles—minus every thing they
had attémpted to bring into the country
except the clothes upon their backs.
They had thrown away the bundles ¢on-
taining the many things the Chinese
hold dear, including a large quantity of
opium, all of which merked their track
upon the waste of sands.
As the almond-eyed ones have a sys-
tem of spreading information among
themselves, it is quite likely this terri-
ble experience will serve to prevent any
more of them attempting to invade the
United States via the desert route.—
San Diego (Cal.) Union.
Ham OMELET.—Six eggs, one tablea
spoonful of flour made smooth in a little
milk, two-thirds of a cupful of very
finely chopped fried ham, all lean. Beat
the yelks thoroughly, add the flour and
milk and the ham, and, lastly, the whites
beaten to a stiff froth. Beatall together
and pour into a hot and well-buttered
ran Shake gently wh:l: the omelet
is cooking a rich golden brown on the
bottom.” When nearly done set the
spider in a hot oven until the omelet has
begun to brown on top. Double over
carefully and serve immediately on a hot
piatter. If preferred without Lam use:
A very pretty omelet is
placing them, beaten stiff, on one half
the omelet when partly cooked, and
then doubling the other half over
hen. fii
mr m—————
——An Ohio man who was travel-
ing in Spain happened to remark that.
the United States would probably buy
Cuba some day, and he received three
challenges from hot-headed Spaniards
within an hour. He got out of it by
saying he meant the Sandwich Islands.
instead of Cuba.