Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, May 01, 1896, Image 2

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A fellow feels like drowsin’, for the air is full of
dreams ;
Far off the cowbells tinkle by the cool and shaded
An’ the morning winds invite you where the
bees are on the wing,
An’ the birds are makin’ merry, an’ the honey-
suckles swing ! :
Sing a song ©’ springtime
“Ting-a-ling-a-ling ;”
Cattle boys a-sleepin’
Where the honeysuckles swing AT
~ A feller feels like loafin’, for the weather's fair and,
An’ the fishin’ rod’s a-bobhin’ to the throbbin’ o
the line ;
An’ the river banks invite you where a breezy
chorus swells,
An’ scenes 0’ joy delight vou where the cattle
shake their bells.
Sing a song o’ springtime
“Ting-a-ling-a-ling !"
Fishepman a-noddin’
Where the honeysuckles swing!
It's good to be-a-livin’ in this weather night and
When you hear a song o’ plenty in the rustlin® 6”
the corn ;
When a picture o’ the harvest shines in every
drop o’ dew,
An’ the old world’s rollin’ happy ‘neath a livin’
heud o'blue.
Sing a song o’ springtime
“Ting-a-ling-a-ling 1”
All the country smilin’
© Where the honeysuckles swing !
—PFrank L. Stanton.
Miss Boughton was leaning against the
shelves of a little, low-ceilinged, crowded,
second-hand book-shop in Broadway, just
above Thirty-sixth street, dipping into a
volume of M. Ampere.
“Will you please do that up for me ?”’
she said, holding it out. As she extended
her arm, her large full sleeve happened . to
brush open the cover of one of those soft,
leather-covered, old-fashioned Bibles, lying
on a pile of school-books, and her eye
caught the delicate faded traceries of an
inscription on the yellow fly-leaf—‘“To my
darling boy, from his loving mother.”’
‘‘Oh !”” she said, with a pained start ;
‘‘how could any one—I'll take that too,
please,” and she closed the cover quickly,
reverently. It seemed to her so shocking,
so cruelly, needlessly cold-hearted, in any
one to sell such a gift, to throw away such
a sacred token of mother-love. The quaint
fine, faded handwriting called up a hun-
dred fancies of home and childhood and
fondling care and starlit pleadings besides
little beds. Who was the mother
who prayed ? and where was the boy
who wandered and forgot ? she wonder-
ed. Or, kinder thought, perhaps he
was dead too, and the book that he had
wept over and found comfort in had so fal-
len into careless strangers’ hands, and made
. its way at last to the old bookshop, along
with dog-eared Latin grammars and stray
magazines. She was glad at least that it
had come to one who would preserve and
cherish it as something most sweet and
beautiful and pathetic.
The autumn shower which had driven
her into this little exchange for rusty liter-
ature had now broken away, and a watery
ray of sunshine came straggling in at the
door, resting on the bent gray figure of the
proprietor tying her bundle, and on anoth-
er person whom she had not observed, and
who was lounging against one of the cases
opposite her, fingering the pages of an old
picture-book, and regarding her with a
peculiarly eager, covert gaze. He was a
broken-down man of perhaps forty, dressed
in a short frockcoat, well buttoned up, that
a too intimate acquaintance with rain and
weather had turned to a peculiar green col-
or, and from out which his long lean arms
and neck protruded to an extraordinary
length. He was a type easy enough to
classify—a type one often sees in public li-
braries and round old book-stalls, refined
and poor and ill and dissipated, Yet there
was something so pathetic in his pale,
weak, intellectual face, something so ap-
] pealing and intense in the look of his large,
bright, brown eyes, which for an instant
caught hers over his hollow hectic cheeks,
that Miss Boughton had a sense of nearness
and sympathy for this dingy memory of
what was once perhaps a kind and honest
gentleman. She of course turned away her
eyes politely, but instead of taking her
package, she said : ‘‘Oh, by-the-bye, I have
just happened to think that I've got to go
to lunch with some people. Would you
mind sending these books home for me ?
It’s only a step. I live in Thirty-eighth
street.”” As she gave the number, she
thought she saw the other listening, with
his body bent over the pages, and his long
lean finger pressed against his thin chin,
She hoped he wasn’t going to come and beg.
Somehow she couldn’t help believing him
to be a gentleman. She would be so glad
to help him, but she didn’t want him to
spoil himself.
. Miss Boughton threw M. Ampere care-
lessly on the table on her return that after-
noon, and took up the worn old Bible with
a certain indignant pity. Perhaps there
might be some further biographical details.
She turned the pages dreamily, in a kind
of sad pl , when suddenly she came
upon a verse enclosed by a broad circle of
ink ; and it was this : “I bowed down
heavily as one who mourneth for his moth-
er.”” She closed the book very gently.
There were tears in her eyes.
didn’t forget,”’ she murmured.
One snowy winter morning, some two
months subsequent to this little episode,
her maid brought her a note, with the mes-
sage that an answer was requested. It was
addressed in a large, shaky, -masculine
hand, and qujckly opening it, she read :
‘Some two months ago, you may remem-
ber buying a Bible in the old book-store
just round the corner from Thirty-sixth
street. The book was mine. When I tell
you that it was my dear mother’s gift,
that she wrote my name there, and that it
was my one memento of a happy past you
will understand how I value it. I sold -it
because I had had nothing to eat in three
days. I asked her if she’d mind, don’t you
know, and she seemed to tell me to. But
I went there and watched it till I could
get it back again, and then you came and
bought it. I knew by your face why you
did. God bless you for it ! I listened for
your address, I hoped each day to come
and buy it. I'm dying now, they tell me,
so I never can repay you ; but would you
mind sending it to me ? Ido want it so.
It can’t mean much to you, and to me it is
all the world—all that is left of hope, mem-
ory, companionship, love, home.”
Through the long bare wards of the hos-
pital the white-gowned nurse led her si-
lently ; opposite them the snow was mot-
tling the great high windows. . The whole
atmosphere was so tense with stillness and
suffering and death that the young lady
shivered among her. wraps as she
down the aisle. He had evidently been ex-
pecting her, for he had been cleanly shav-
ed, and Miss Boughton was shocked and
yet pleased by his appearance. He was
terribly emaciated, and as he lay with
closed eyes and his face half turned away,
she noticed the fine delicate chiselling of
his features, and the sensitive, almost fem-
inine curves of his mouth under his mus:
tache. One hand lay closed on the cover-
! lid, bony and large. His malady seemed
to have cleansed away all the weakness and
dissipation and squalor, and left only the
fine and beautiful. Life had clothed him
in shame and wretchedness ; death’s man-
“Ah, he
(tle draped him in awful dignity. The
nurse touched him lightly on the shoulder
—the poor, sharp shoulder. ‘‘Hereis some
one to see you,’’ she said.
| “ He opened his eyes, which, bright with
fever, were startling, brilliant, and beauti-
ful, and feebly tried to turn himself, smil-
ing, and looking at the bundle she held
pressed against her coat with that quick
eagerness she. femembered so well. She
understoodiand bending forward, pressed
his hand and laid the book upon his arm.
‘Open it, please,’”’ he whispered. She
did so, and catching it again in his hands,
he looked at the inscription, and assured
that it was his very own, with a force for
‘which she was entirely unprepared he
pressed it to his lips and hugged it to his
breast. -
“‘God bless you !”” he said, with a look
i of the most grateful happiness. ‘‘Oh, my
| dear mother ! my dear mother !”’
| For some moments he-lay silent, with
| his eyes shut, but when she attempted
| gently to draw away her hand, he detained
| it feebly with his own.
| “The world is full of kindness,’’ he said,
| with his faint smile. ‘Ever so many peo-
| ple have been nice to me, all in all. = That
| is why I thought it so sweet of you to
{ come. I like to think, don’t you know,
that the last thing which happened to me
| was a kindness. It’s a pleasant thought to
| take away withone. My mother .will be
so grateful to you.”
{ Miss Boughton felt the tears coming ; he
{ was such a gentleman, and he must have
Six Deaths at a Maniac's Door.
A Small Indiana Town Startled by Most Horrible
Butcheries.—Mother and Two Children Killed. The
Murderer Pursued by Officers, Whom He Also Shot
to Death. When Cornered he Took his Own Life.
Alfred Egbert, Laboring Under a Fit of Temporary
insanity, Entered a House in Rockville, Shot Gun in
Hand, and Murdered Two Children, Then Coming
~~ Out He Encountered the Mother and Beat Her to
Death With the Butt of His Gun.
One of the most horrible tragedies that
ever disgraced Indiana occurred at an early
hour last Saturday at Rockville, Park
county, when Alfred Egbert, laboring un-
der a fit of temporary insanity, murdered
five persons and then killed himself.
Mrs. Herman Haschke was milking her
cow in the rear of the house, when Egbert
came out into the yard next door and be-
gan to cut wood. She saw him leave’ the
wood pile and a moment later appear in
the yard with a breech-loading shotgun in
hishand. Without passing a word with
her he entered her house and murdered her
two children, Herman, 8 years old, and
Agnes, aged 10.
Coming out of the house, he approached
the mother, who fled from him, but he
pursued her down the alley, and clubbed
her to death with the butt of the gun. = A
bystander saw the murder of Mrs. Haschke
and reported at once to Sheriff Mull, who
summoned Deputy Sweem, and the two
started to arrgst the murderer. They had
proceeded but a short distance when Eg-
bert appeared on the street carrying the
gun, as if ‘ready to shoot at a moment’s
notice. He spied the Sheriff and his -dep-
uty and warned them not to attempt his
arrest. .
Mull and Sweem turned away from him
and entered a stairway leading to the
street, when Egbert slipped up on one side
and suddenly stood before them. An in-
stant later he sent a load of buckshot into
Sheriff Mull’s body, killing him instantly,
and a second shot pierced Sweem’s heart
and he fell across the body of the Sheriff.
The murderer reloaded his gun and walked
up the street as though nothing out of the
ordinary had happened. ,
By this time the people were terribly ex-
cited, and men began to gather upon the
street in all directions. As the full knowl-
edge of the murders became known the
| suffered so. “Ah, it is pitifully little,’ €reatest excitement prevailed, and men
i she said. “‘I might have done so much if
| T had only known.”
| He looked down at the counterpane idly,
spreading out his skinny hand.
‘You have done what you could,’’ he
said presently, smiling into her face. ‘I
want you to remember that always as a
great happiness—that you have done what
you could. It’s a beautiful thing to be a
good woman,” he added softly, as if to
himself. “I haven’t been a very good
man. I was weak and emotional, and then
she died, and then I lost my money, and
then I borrowed from my friends, and then
I got to drinking—oh it’s the old story.
There are hundreds like me. But I want
you to know, because you have been so
very good to me, and because there isn’t
one soul in all this world who cares wheth-
er I die here or drop by the way-side, that
I have always tried to be good, and to do
as she wanted me, and that every night I
have read here, and thought of her and
longed for her.”
Miss Boughton hesitated. “Would you
like me to—to read to you ?’’ she asked.
“Thank you very much,’’ he said, shak-
ing his head‘ ‘‘but I'd rather say it to my-
self, if you don’t mind. I remember so
well every tone, every inflection, of her
voice. I can quite hear her. She was a
beautiful reader.” :
He closed his eyes again, and a little
contented sigh escaped him. She could see
his lips moving, murmuring, the book still
pressed tightly to his breast. Miss Bough-
ton leaned over him, and could just catch
the words, ‘‘and—take—me—to—heaven—
when—I—die. Amen !”
It was a prayer learned at his mother’s
knee, and as he breathed it, a smile as
| trustful and innocent as a little child’s
| played over his face.
| stopped beside the bed. “Your mission,’
| she whispered gently, ‘‘is fulfilled.’’—In
| Harper's Magazine for February.
Cause of Decay.
There are towns that once were flourish-
ing, progressive places, with large stores
doing a good business, cosy and attractive
homes, the streets well taken care of, and
plenty of people to be seen upon them,
which are surely falling into a state of stag-
nation and decay. The cause of this is
very often to be found in the two fierce
competition between rivals in business,
says Shoe and Leather Facts. They are
too jealous of oneanother to give any
thought to the interests of the town, and
the fear that some rival in business may be
on the make prevents them from effecting
organization of any kind. And, as it needs
2 hard tussle in unison to produce effective
results, where there is. wanting it is but a
question of time when innocuous desuetude
follows as a natural consequence.
It takes something besides natural ad-
vantages t0 make a town. While these
certainly are desirable, the main things are
live, progressive, wide awake citizens, and
when such work with a long pull, a hard
pull, and a pull altogether, prosperity is
bound to ensue. Mean spirited business
men are an incubus upon - any towns’
growth. Practical, brainy men are essen-
tial to-the welfare of a town. Merchants
all its people depends upon the town’s
progress, and should, therefore, lay aside
all petty tricks in trade and combine for
the benefit of the whole population.
What has he Done.
The Republicans of this county have our
deepest sympathy in their dilemma in try-
ing to find out anything that the Hon. W.
C. Amold has done for the congressional
district. It’s no wonder. The task was as
difficult as the one Demosthenes undertook
when he started out with his lantern at
noonday. After much labor the fol-
lowing was brought forth and adopted by
the convention :
We endorse the course of W. C. Arnold,
our representative in Congress, and espec-
ially his effort to secure justice for the sol-
diers who fought in defence of the Union,
his stand for honest money, and for the
recognition of the brave people of Cuba,
now struggling for their liberties.’
The question ‘‘what has he accom-
plished ?”’ still remains unanswered.
Don’t try to solve it however unless you
court an acute attack of neurasthenia.—Du-
Boise Express.
. Perseverance.
‘Haven't had a peanut thrown into my
trunk for more than an hour,” complained
theselephant. :
“Well,” said the monkey, ‘‘I ‘wouldn’t
despair. I'd just keep on sticking it out,
old man.”
gathered guns, pistols, révolvers and ropes
and started after Egbert, who was still upon
the street.
Seeing the crowd coming and hearing
their imprecations as they advanced, he
turned and fled like a deer in the direction
of the fair grounds. The crowd gathered
as the pursuit continued and joined in the
race, and shot after shot was fired at the
fleeing murderer, but apparently without
effect. As he attempted to scale the fair
grounds fence a shot took effect in his leg
and crippled him. : ~
and he slipped into one of the cattle sh
as though to conceal himself. The crowd
approached cautiously, but a shot was
heard in the shed, and when they reached
it they found that Egbert had shot himself
through the heart.
Egbert was 21 years of age and a quiet,
inoffensive man. He was certainly insane,
as insanity is in the family. Sheriff Mull
was widely known, and was a member of
the staff of Commander-in-Chief Walker, of
the Grand Army. He leaves two children.
Sweem leaves a wife and six children. Mr.
Haschke is a baker, and the tragedy robs
him of his entire family except one son.
The sister of Egbert, Florence, who has
been ill with typhoid fever for some time,
became frantic when she heard of the
bloody deed of her brother. She was in
| Her friend the nurse came presently and
should bear in mind that the prosperity of |
bed at the time, and although prompt med-
ical attention was given, and every effort
| made to quiet her, she died from the shock
| caused by the tragedy.
Women as Lay Delegates.
| They Lack Only 18 of a Three-feuths Vote in Their
| The proposition to admit women as lay
| delegates to the General Conference of the
| Methodist Episcopal church has been de-
| feated by a narrow margin. The vote of
the North Dakota Conference, which has
just been received, was the last to be tak-
en on the proposition. With that vote in-
cluded in the table the vote is 7,515 for the
admission of women and 2,529 against.
Aceording to a provision of the discipline
it is necessary for a proposition to change
any of the restrictive rules of the church to
receive the support of three-fourths of the
members of the annual Conferences voting
on the proposition and two-thirds of the
members of the General Conference.
As the total vote was 10,044, it would
have been necessary for the supporters of
the amendment to have cast 7,533 to win.
They lost by 18 votes. A complication of
the question will be caused by the presence
of three women at the next Methodist Epis-
copal general conference who have been
elected as lay delegates and who will ap-
ply for admission - to the. conference. One
of these is the wife of President Bashford
‘of the Ohio Wesleyan University of Dela-
ware, O. The women may be admitted on
a simple majority vote, it is said, and if
this is done it will settle the question in
their favor. There will be a large majority
in the conference in favor of the admission
of women. 2
7 ;
Trees and Morality.
The tree business has another bearing.
I refer to city trees as relative to city
health and morals. The city of the future
will be treeless and shadeless. When a
city has practically all outdoors to lay its
new streets on, these should be wide
enough to allow a row or more of trees in
the middle, with green grass and comforta-
ble seats, and open spaces where roots can
find air and receive water. When we come
to city trees, as related to city morals, we
open a wide subject. We have denounced
the saloon all too fad, but just here let us
halt a moment. Are all those who fre-
quent the saloon so inherently bad and be-
sotted that they go there because they pre-
fer it to anything else it is possible to offer
them ? Tdonot believe it. If a man has
no other resting place when weary than a
crowded, overheated, untidy home on the
one hand, or an open, more comfortable sa-
loon on the other hand, is it strange he
takes the latter? I do not justify the
tendency. But I do suggest that more
open air parks in your cities would save
many a man and woman, who is not al-
ready depraved. Those who bring about
betterment of tenement houses and those
who secure small parks within a desert of
brick walls deserve and will receive the
gratitude of their fellow men. Don’t put
a premium on vice and intemperance by
any lack of public comfo.t. A dis-
tinguished philosopher once said that ‘‘a
nature which had lost its fondness for the
woods had lost its manhood. ’’— Forestry
Commissioner Rothrock.
His pursuers gained rapidly upon Jim, |
Flower Guessing Game.
Directions Concerning a Novel Entertainment Inter-
esting to All.
A bright and novel entertainment may
be given with the aid of the flower guessing
game. A description of one of those en-
tertainments is here reproduced, from the
Ladies Home Journal. :
When the guests had assembled, all were
surprised by a most novel sight. On the
picture frames, etc., were hung white
cards, similar in size to dance pro-
grams, tied with ribbons, each card
having a number and question written up-
on it. The ladies were to guess the an-
swers, which were the names of flowers.
Each guest was handed a card on which
were numbers in rotation from 1 to 30,. A
narrow ribbon held the pencil to the card.
This beautiful flower guessing game, seem-
ingly difficult at first, after being thorough-
ly explained became very easily under-
stood. The hostess explained by reading
from card No. 1, on which the following
was written : “My first wears my second
on her foot.” The answer, of course,
‘“Lady’s slipper,” our hostess then told us
to write on our cards opposite No. 1. Then
reading card No. 2, “A Roman numeral,’’
the answer being “Ivy”’ (IV), she asked
us to put ivy opposite No. 2 on our cards,
‘At the close of the game the cards were
collected and correct answers counted on
each card, and the prizes, four in number,
awarded to the most successful ones. The
prizes in this instance were flower bowls,
vases and the like. The questions asked
were simple and the answers familiar flow-
ers. a finished list of those used y
3. The hour before my English cousin’s
tea—Four o’clock.
4. Good marketings—Butter and eggs,
5. A very gay and ferocious animal—
6. My first is often sought for my second
7. A young man’s farewell to his sweet-
8. Her reply to him—‘‘Sweet William.’
8. The gentler sex of the Friend persua-
sion—Quaker ladies. - .
10. Its own doctor—Self heal.
11. My first is as sharp as neebles ; my
second is as soft as down—Thistle down.
12. My first is a country in Asia : my
second is the name of a prominent New
York family—China aster.
13. My first is the name of a bird ; my
second is worn by cavalrymen—Larkspur.
14. A church official —Elder.
15. A very precise lady—Primrose.
16. A tattered songster—Ragged robin.
17. My first is sly, but cannot wear my
18. The color of a horse—Sorrel.
19. A craze in Holland in the seven-
teenth century—Tulip.
20. My first is an implement of war ; my
second is a place where money is coined—
21. A disrespectful name for a physician
22. Fragrant letters—Sweet peas. .
23. My first is a white wood ; my second
i the name of a yellowish Rhenish wine—
24." What the father said to his son in
the morning—‘‘Johnny jump up 1’
25. My first is a facial expression of
pleasure ; my second a woodsman’s means
of livelihood—Smilax.
26. An animal of the jungle is my first ;
my second is the name of a tall, fair lady—
Tiger lily. ~.
27. My first is made in a dairy ; but is
seldom served in my second—Bi tercup.
28. My first wears my second n his
head—Coxcomb. >
29. A close companion—Sticktight.
30. A fashionable evening shade for
He Was Exempt.
One of the most popular men that ever
lived in the state of Nevada was Bishop
Whittaker of the Episcopalian church, who
is now located in Pennsylvania, and many
stories are told at his expense. One of the
best that I have ever heard is the incident
that Mike Tarpey, the politician, relates
whenever the good bishop’s name is men-
“Although I'm a Catholic,” said he
‘‘and the bishop is an Episcopalian, we al-
ways thought a great deal of each other.
There was nothing that I would not do for
the bishop, so that accounts for the fact
that I was driving with him from Pioche
to Dry valley to help him raise money with
which to build a new Episcopalian church
in Pioche.
‘‘One of the most peculiar characters in
that neighborhood was a man who was
generally known by the sobriquet of Billy-
be-Damn. He earned it by reason of the
surpassing eloquence of his profanity. He
could outswear any man in Nevada, and in
those days it took better than a raw hand
at cussing to do that. Billy was baldhead-
ed, and he was firmly convinced that the
custom of imprisoning the hair in a hat
was responsible for its loss. For that rea-
son he usually wore a hat with the crown
cut-out of it or no hat at all.
“‘As the bishop and T were driving along
he suddenly seized me by the arm, exclaim-
« “Stop! Hold on a minute.”
“I pulled up the horse and saw Billy-be-
Damn turning a windlass just below the
road. As usual, he had no crown in his
hat, and the hot July sun was beating
down on his shiny pate in a way that
threatened sunstroke at least.
‘ ‘My good man,’ said the bishop, ‘don’t
you know that this hot sun beating down
on your unprotected head will bake your
brain ?’
“Billy glanced up in surprise, and then,
with an expression of disgust on his face
replied :
“You d——d fool, do you suppose if I
had any brain I'd be turning this wind
lass ?”’—San Francisco Post.
——“If the bosses are to control in the
making of our Presidents, we are a republic
only in name. This shows the value of in-
‘dependence at national elections, and that
the independent voter, the man who carries
his sovereignty under his hat and will not
part with it under any circumstances, is an
absolute necessity for our country. It can-
not get along without him. He becomes
more and more indispensable as cur popu-
lation rapidly increases. We need a great
influx into the ranks of those citizens who
vote not from impulse, but with a clear
understanding of what they are doing, men
who form their opinions in the quiet of
their homes, and are very little influenced
by slangwhanging politics outside.’’—Bos-
ton Transcript.
An Ideal Existence.
‘‘It must be awful nice to be a farmer,”
said the city girl. ‘‘Nothing to do but sit
around and let things grow.’’
And the young man, who did not know
that the first 18 years of her life had been
spent on the farm that eventually proved
to be in the gas belt, was wonderfully im-
"wealthiest Armenians in the city was kill-
: y |
Who the Armenian Is. i
In view of what has recently been said
in the newspapers about Armenia and the
Armenians, and their persecution by the
Turks, we feel sure the following brief ar-
ticle written by Bion, H. Butler, will be
read with interest. He passed through
Armenia on his recent trip to Russia :
In all the turmoil, the Armenian is the |
fellow who is doing the suffering. Except
that he is tortured and killed, his family
outraged and his children starved, the
Armenian nevertheless is really but asmall
character in the tragedy for which he fur-
nishes the victim. ‘
The Armenian is not understood ‘in
America. He is rather invested by his
sympathizers with virtues that he does not
possess and forgiven the vices that are real-
ly his. Sympathy covers a great deal in
his case. He is a Christian. But he is not
a protestant nor a Roman Catholic. He is
not even a Creek Catholic like the orthodox
Russian. His church is an off-shoot from
the ancient Greek church, differing mater-
ially from the parent stem, and from all
other Christian creeds. Yet he is one of
the oldest of the faith. He has never been
proselyted, although surrounded by the
Mussulman, the most relentless of religious
persecutors. No matter what the induce-
ment or threat he has remained true to the
doctrine of his fathers.
As a nation the Armenian is a remem-
brance. He will tell you that he is of a
race descended from Haik, through the line
of Japhet, theson of Noah, and that his
people established themselves in the terri-
tory known as Armenia fully 4,000 years
ago. He is a fellow wholly different from
his neighbors, the barbarous Kurds and
Turks. His appearance is more like that
of the civilized inhabitants of Western
Europe or America, while his language is in
no wise related to that of his conquerers.
From the early.days Armenia has been the
habitation of sorrow.
spoil of the stronger powers of Persia,
Rome, Greece, Tartary, Assyria, the Turk,
until finally the Ottoman Turk, spreading
westward in the establishment of the
strong military monarchy, gathered Armen-
ia in out of danger from any but himself
and his friends.
In the Ottoman Empire the Armenian
has always been simply a conquered sub=
ject. He never affiliated religion or cus-
tom with his conqueror. The two races
are as marked in their individuality and
differences as the white man and the Indian i
of America. In the later days the majority
of the Armenians have deserted the origi-
nal Armenia, which now contains scarcely a
third of the 2,000,000 who inhabit various |
sections of the globe. The greater number
are in Russia, which is fair, as Russia has |
taken from Turkey a big strip of the old
Armenia. Like the Jew, the Armenian is
a people, but not a nation. The very land
is parceled out among the stronger modern
Cradled in adversity the Armenian has
not deteriorated from the first stock. He
is an intelligent fellow, shrewd in business,
fond of money and keen in a financial trans-
action. Long years of oppression have
sharpened the wit of these people, likewise
making them diplomatic, for they are
submissive and patient under the wrongs of
their governors. When that much is said
of them, about all is said that the inhabi-
tants of the country will permit to their
credit. The truth is that the Armenian in
his own country bears a rather unsavory
name, not only among the Turks, but if
you talk to half a dozen Europeans about
him, five of the half dozen will caution you
to beware of him in any business transac-
tion. In a confiding mowsent the Euro-
pean representative of a large American
‘manufacturing establishment told me that
in an experience among them of 21 years
he had never known an honest Armenian.
A French. commercial traveler, who goes
far into Turkestan and all of the Armenian
country reviled them ‘unmercifully as we
rode through a section of the old Armenian
territory in the same. state room together
one day. ‘‘They will submit to an insult
and any indignity with a smile in the hope
of cheating you before you get out of their
reach,” he said. An intelligent. American
even went so far as to say : “The Armen- |
ian is to a considerable extent to blame for |
ed by two of his own people, it was report-
ed, because he would not yield to black-
mailing attempts to get money from him.
Such efforts at extortion are said by relia-
ble men to be not uncommon among them.
1 was shocked to learn that asa people the
Armenian is not popular where he is best
Young I Men in Our History.
Young men have cut a wide swath in
our history. Henry Clay was Speaker of
the House of Representatives at the age of
34. Stephen A, Douglas was but 39 when
he first became a candidate for the Presi-
dency. James G. Blaine was only 39
when he became Speaker of the House of
Representatives. Alexander Hamilton took
charge of the Treasury at 32 years of age.
Martin Van Buren at 36 organized the fa-
mous Albany Regency and was Governor
of New York at 40. John C. Calhoun was
Vice President of the United States in his
424 year. John C. Breckinridge, of Ken-
tucky, was vice President at 32 and a can-
didate for the Presidency at 35, George B.
McClellan was only 38 when nominated for
the Presidency. Fremont. the ‘‘Pathfin-
der,” had explored the Rocky mountains
before he was 30 years old, and was run-
ning for the Presidency at 43. Columbus
was in the thirties when he explained his
ideas of the Western passage and enlisted
the aid of the Spanish sovereigns in the pro-
ject that led to the discovery of America.
Richard Cobden was but 34 when he found-
ed the Anti-Corn Law league, which revo-
lutionized the commercial importance of
Great Britain. And William Pitt, ranked
by some historians as the greatest of mod-
ern British Premiers, was practically
ruler of England at 24.
. An Educational Centennial.
The State Superintendent of Public In-
struction, Charles R. Skinner, calls public
attention to the fact that May 4, 1896, will
be the 100th anniversary of the birth of
Horace Mann, whose life was unselfishly
devoted to educational work. Mr. Skinner
says : ‘‘He was a friend of the common
schools and a promoter of public education.
His name is an inspiration to all who love
the schools. It is recommended that this
anniversary be given public recognition in
all the schools of the State by such appro-
priate exercises as may be arranged. Cer-
tainly every school-house should display
the National flag on that day in honor of
She has been the
If castor oil is applied to a wart once a
day for a month the wart will entirely dis-
appear. In many cases it will not require
so long a time,
That skirts and sleeves are to diminish in
size is now an actual certainty—in fact,
they have diminished—the skirts not to any
great extent, the sleeves considerably. These
changes are not very evident in the toilettes
one sees in the streets, and the fashion pa-
pers have not laid stress upon them. But
if one attends the races and other fashion-
able gatherings where the advance guard of
fashionables are wont to sport the very last
thing out, one cannot but admit that they
are an accomplished fact. The skirt of the
moment is shorn of the front godets that
adorned that of last season ; the parasol
shape is still likely to be worn and all the
fullness is to be at the back. The diminu-
tion in the size of sleeves will, of course, be
much more accentuated in certain styles of
gown than in others. The fashionable
Louis XV. coats, for instance, are made
with sleeves very little smaller than those
of last season ; they are very long and very
tight on the forearm, only the upper part
being full.
The accepted width for wash gowns is five
yards around the lower edge, where there
isa five to seven-inch hem. The top of
each width is gored, and three rows of
shirring fit it to the belt. :
Rows of insertion are allowed above the
hem or down the front and side seams.
The full bishop sleeves, finished with
ruffles edged with black Valenciennes lace,
but these are among the novelties that come
and go.
Few wash dresses have any lining, but
lawn and silk appear if it is wanted, or a
sateen slip.
The belted basque gives a ripple effect
| five inches deep below the waistline, but
| the round waist thrust under the skirt belt
remains the favorite, for the ripple effect is
| not universally becoming.
| The full bishop sleeves, as wide at the
| wrists as at the top, is the prominent idea
| in the sleeves of wash gowns ; they have a
| cuff from three to four inches deep, to which
| the fullness is gathered.
Turnover collars are edged with em-
| broidery, and erect collars serve as a sup-
| port to a folded ribbon collar tied in a bow
at the back.
Full waists having a yoke, collar and
| tiny cuffs on elbow sleeves of embroidery
| are shown for dressy afternoon wear.
A handsome trimming consists of bands
| of heavy insertion, three in front and two
| at the back, from neck to waistline ; high
collar of the insertion and points or tabs of
edging over the top.
Although grass linen looks so delight-
fully cool, this trait is spoiled by a mass of
! colored lining being used by some modistes
under the impression that they add to their
These gowns are at their prettiest when
decorated with light grass green, white or
turquoise taffeta ribbon. :
The pinkish violet shade—Ophelia—looks
well with the peculiar greenish tint of the
linen, but is not cool in appearance as the
green and blue.
Some lovely ginghams have chine de-
signs printed on the wrap of dainty blos-
soms or Oriental figures in narrow stripes.
For inexpensive afternoon gowns nothing
can be prettier.
Only the waist is lined around the arm-
holes, so coolness and economy are com-
bined. Lacy patterns of embroidery and
chine ribbon or a solid color of taffeta af-
ford the trimming.
A round waist, bishop sleeves and gored
skirt deeply hemmed from the design.
A girlish gown<of blue and white or-
gandie is lined with pale blue lawn and
has the usual gored skirt, with the deep
hem now in vogue.
Round, full waist, cut slightly square at
the neck in the Dutch style, with two up-
right frills of the goods. Elbow sleeves,
tucked at the upper part, close-fitting at
the elbow and finished there with a ruffle
of the material.
Belt of white ribbon, No. 12, with a
rosette on either side, from which fall two
the feeling which the Turk entertains for | long loops and an end.
banker, the money lender and the usurer |
of the empire. The way he salivates the |
Turk from time to time is only equalled by |
the way in which the Turk gets even in the |
Just such a recommendation of the
Armenian came to me from nearly every
man who had a word to say of him. The
day I landed in Constantinople one of the
The Armenian is the merchant, the |
~The wasplike waist is no longer in evi-
Turn down linen collars opened behind
and before, and cuffs turned back about an
inch around the hand are the latest finish
for tailor gowns.
. A smart gown of soft black serge, made
up for a traveling gown, is. made with a
widely sweeping skirt, with all the seams
piped with a heavy satin cord. The jaunty
bodice is nipped in at the waist, and flares
out smartly over the hips, very short, but
very effective. There isa double row of
the satin piping all along -the edge. The
front fastens under a shield-shaped vest of
black satin, buttoned on with beautifully
carved buttons in black pearl. The sleeves
are the melon shape, with the lower arm
tightly buttoned to the wrist, where it
finishes with a jaunty flare.
A smart little turban-shaped hat of
coarsely woven black straw is twisted about
with black crepe de chene, with decoration
of black silk poppies of immense size.
The girl in white will not wear shoes to
match this summer if she wishes to be re-
garded as perfectly correct. A fancy high-
heeled patent leather Oxford is considered
the thing.
Hats are literally laden, not to say over-
laden with flowers. The brim of the Louise
sailor is hidden under a mass of sweet peas,
old-fashioned daisies or half a dozen kinds
of wild flowers artistically jumbled to-
One of the most remarkable women in
New Orleans is Miss Sophie Wright, who is
at the head of one of the largest girl’s schools
in the South. At eighteen she had to make
aliving, and began with one pupil. She also
started a free night school for poor boys.
Her school grew so rapidly that she was
soon relieved of money troubles. She still
keeps up her night school and is revered as
a saint might be. A cripple from birth,
she is always more or less a great sufferer.
The French method of cleaning black
silks is very simple and the results very
satisfactory. The silk is thoroughly brush-
ed and wiped with a cloth, then laid on a
board or table and well sponged with hot
coffee that has been strained through a piece
of muslin. The silk is sponged on the side
intended to show. It is allowed to become
partially dry and then ironed on the wrong
side. The coffee removes the shiny look
and does not leave the papery stiffness
produced by other liquids. The silk ap-
pears thickened by this process. Try it
upon a necktie and you will be surprised at
the results.
Horace Mann.””—New York Tribune.