Simple Faith,
If one could hear his mother’s voice again,
And stand beside his mother's knee again,
And be again a ohild,
Simple and mild,
Absorbing faith as earth receives the rain }
Thus only could he shake the feeling off
Cold is the air of reason, though serene ;
Chill and unsatisfying, though serene,
Better for life and death
Were simple faith,
That ample evidence of things unseen.
But wo have caten the forbidden fruit,
Nor knew the tree was rotten at the root.
Memory,
A POEM WRITTEN BY JAMES A. GARFIELD,
VOLUME XIV.
term in Congress - hence some twenty
ago. ]
Tis beaunteous night ;
down
Upon the earth, docked in her robe of snow,
No light gleams at the window, save my own,
Which gives its cheer to midnight and to me,
And vow, with nolceloss siep, swoel memory
years
the stars look brightly
cones
And loads mo gently throvgh her twilight
realms,
What poet's tuneful
Or delicate pen o'er portrayed,
The enchanted, shadowy land where mem
dwells ¥
It has its valleys, cheerios, lone and drear,
Dark-shadod hy the ful oypresa tree ;
And yet its sanlit monptain tops are bathed
In heaven's own blue. 1 it vy olifts,
Robed in the dreamy lig distant vears,
Are clustered joys sovene of other days,
Upon its gentle, sloping hillsides bend
The weeping willows o'er the sacred dust
OF dear departed ones ; and vet in that land,
Where'er our footateps fall a
They that were sleepi
Of death's long sil
stand,
As erst they did before the prison tomb
Received their clay within its voiceless halls
The heavens that bend above that land are
hung
With clouds of varios hues,
chill
Surcharged with sorrow, cast
ever sung,
iyre has
¥
3 Cragg
pon the sd %
he dust
round
w pine 6 y
| Ise rom out t
nt veam, and BE
Some dark
with
shade
Upon the sunny, joyous
Others are foating through
White the SROW,
2d hal
aad below,
the dreamy air,
as fallivg their margins
tinged
With gold and erimsoned hues;
fall
Upon the flowery meads and sunny slopes,
Soft as the shadow of an a
When the rough baile of day is done,
And evening's pe tly on the hears,
I boond away, across
Unto the u
Where earth and sk) ¢
And memory dim with dark oblivion joins,
Where woke the first remembered sounds that
foll
Upon the ear in of
And, wandering thenoe
1 soe the shadow of my
Gliding from childhood
The path of youth winds dow
a vale,
And on the brink of m
From
8 Years,
estate.
any a droad abyss,
out
light,
Barve that a phantom dances «
And beckons
path
Leads o'er the
whose darkness comes no ray of
ver the gulf
sunbeams
Tall «
ABEL 5
And thus in light and
gloom,
Sorrow and jor, the
and
shade, sunshine an
life-path leads along.
“Ned! Ned!" The call rang out
from the house door, floating over the
garden, till it came faint and weary to
the barn door, utterly unable to pene-
trate the barred portal.
“Ned! Ned!” Nearer and nearer
came the cheery voice, and a pair of
light feet carried it down the path, to
ring out agsin clear and strong, as a
panimexnt on the wooden barrier.
A frank face, and head covered with
crisp curls, now decorated by long
straws stuck in with a promiscuous
carelessneas suggestive of Lear's crown,
was popped oat of the window of the
hay-loft.
“What is it, Katie?
beasts their breakfast.”
“Come down! Yon must “come
down! I've got the best of news for
you.”
“What is it? Wait! I'll be down!
Why, Katie, what are you all dressed
up for?
“You'll never guess,
has come home. She sent me over
word this morning to be ready for
church early, so we could have a long
walk before we went into meeting.
She's coming over for me.”
“Busy home!” That was all Ned
said, but there was no donbting the ao-
cent of content in his voice.
I'm giving the
coming back to Allentown next month,
and SBusy’s mother sent for her to leave
school, and be here to meet him. Ob,
Ned, ain't yon glad? She's been AWAY
more'n two years,”
Glad! If there was any faith to be
placed in beaming eyes, smiling lips
and trembling fingers, Ned was, to sav
the least, not sorry; bat he said noth.
ing, only hurried the preparations for
leaving the barn, his face the while
speaking his pleasnre, while, Katie, her
tongue doing the work of two, ran on
with her gleeful chatter.
“1 wonder if she's altered, prettiot
or smarter. I wonder if she'll let vou
beau her now, Ned. Perhaps she'll want
to keep company with some smarter fel.
low, now she's had so much schooling.
Hurry, Ned, so you can go with ns!”
her room to add some trifle to her dress,
expected companion she tried to be
patient, but the fingers wonld fidget,
the f2et beat tatoos, the eyes flash with
eagerness, while her father's comments,
as he leaned over the gate. smoking his
Snnday pipe, did not diminish the
fever,
+ Ay, Katie, don't drum a Lole in the
window | Are you dancing a jig, Katie ?
Come down here and talk to Jack !” and
the magpie’s hoarse voice, calling
* Katie,” echoed the invitation. Sud.
denly both comment and restlessness
ceased, while the two faces, beamin
with loving mischief, watched the path.
Coming from the barn, round to the
front of the house, yet in his blouse and
the warm hearts watching him, His
pretty bunch of flowers told one cause
of his delay, and his lingering step was
explained by the second figure now ad-
vancing from the path Katie had
watched so eagerly,
Slowly the two came toward the house
—Ned trying to summon up courage to
address the pretty, neatly-dressed
maiden, who had grown from a little girl
to a young lady in her two years’ ab-
sence ; while she, her loyal heart flutter-
ing at the sight of her old sweetheart,
tried to look unconecious of his pres-
ence.
Nearer and nearer to the farm door,
the distance between them narrowing
every moment, they sauntered on, till
at last they stood opposite the old
farmer, neither daring to speak the
first word. The pretty flowers were in
danger of being eaten up, as Ned bit
nervously at the stems of the pinks and
roses, while Susy’s pocket handkerchief
was rapidly becoming transformed into
a rabbit in her gloved fingers.
How long they would have remained
thus can only be guessed; but a clear,
ringing laugh from Kate, seconded by
her father's hearty bass, broke the
I'm glad you're home again, Susy !”
Hditor and
HALL, CENTR
E CO.
»
)
1881,
’
in Advance.
NUMBER 39.
hold open the gate before her blushes
faded away.
t did not need much urging to turn
i the long walk into a talk in Katie's
room, while the farmer and Ned
assumed their *go-to-meeting” garb,
herself transferred to her father, while
Master Ned escorted the fair Susy {0
| church, and not a week passed before
tall Allentown knew that Ned Clarke
and Susy Willis were still ** keeping
company.”
Ned and Katie Clarke were the only
children of old Farmer Joshua Clarke,
whose wife had long before died and
left him to be both father and mother
| to her handsome boy and girl. They
i were still little ones when they became
| motherless, but Aunt Kate, Katie's
godmother, had filled her sister's place
at the farmhouse until Katie was six-
{ for a perfeot housekeeper, dear Aunt
Kate consented to go brighten another
home, whose master had waited for her
since her sister's death. So the three
in the old homestead were left to link
their love still closer in the absence of
the wonted housekeeper, and Katie's
pride was to let no comfort be missed,
no deficiency tell of their loss.
In Casy cironmstances, devotedly
fond of his children, finding love all
i around him, Farmer Clarke was the
{ most cheery, bright old farmer in Al-
| lentown., Universally respected and
| beloved, his old age brightened by his
| children's happiness, he was ready to
j enter heartily into any youthful
i scheme, to give his full sympathy to
all the young boys and girls who came
{to him for advice, and above all
village courting. Katie, being a uni.
cial favorite to torment, so the old man
had full leisure to wateh Ned, visiting
his room for sly remarks, dropping
words that bronght up the frank blash
| at times, letting his sympathy bring the
| roses to Susy's cheek.
Never did the course of trme love
| promise to run smoother. Susy's father
i was a traveling peddler,whose journeys
{ often led him hundreds of miles from
i Allentown, now east, now west, north,
| gested. His earnings were good, and
| Mrs. Willis rented a pretty cottage and
i lived in comfortable style, while Sasy
i conld boast of two
ial the academy of B——, miles away
from her native village. Ii is true that
Jim Willis, the peddler, was counted a
hard man, one keen ata bargain, and
close-fisted in business; but no
| doubted his love for his wife and Susy,
{ their only child. There had been al-
| ways kindly feeling between the family
{ and the Clarkes from the time when
{ Ned drew Susy and Kate to school on
i one sled, or tossed apples from the
* os
VTS
: hearin
year schooling
jon the girls’ side. Mrs. Willis knew
Ned's worth; his sturdy uprightness,
his frank, generous heart, his bright in-
| telligence and faithfnl love; and she
{ wished no more brilliant future for her
| darling than the life of Ned Clarke's
wife promised to be.
mer walks, the confidential talks, the
thousand devices to win favor that the
vouthfal swain proffered his love, were
all smiled upon by the inhabitants of
farm and cottage, while Susy's gentl
ioval heart never dreamed of coqnetry,
Far as Cincinnati really was from the
vast space their simple imaginings
threw between, Susy was to be carried
away, far from her home, far from them,
and if the destination had been Egypt
or Constantinople the shock would
have gained no force. Ned's heart
dwelt on the pale, senseless face, as he
had seen it carried by him, till his poor
brain fairly numbed under the burden
of its grief, and he lay silent, ouly
sometimes moaning as the sorrow be
oame more poignant in a new light.
Night fall, the long hours drew out
their slow length, and still the two re
mained mute and motionless, trying to
realize and bear this strange misfortune.
Davhreak stealing in, and the sound of
the farmer's heavy wagon in the yard,
roused them at last, and poor Ned, un
able to meet the cheery voices and face
of his father, stole away to his
leaving Katie to tell the news.
It 1s impossible to deseribe
farmer's wrath, Hot words of bus §
indignation pourad from his lips, and, for
the first time, Katie heard an oath from
her father's lips, as he cursed Jim Wil
lis for his miserly, cruel heart. Then
came gentler thoughts. Busy, his little
pet, second only to Ned and Katie in
his heart, lost, ried away from tl
torn from her home and lover
the thought of Ned's grief &
avery other, and the old man
the narrow staircase to his
It needed just such fatherly tenderness
as he brought to win Ned from hiscare-
agony the relief of tears and
speech, and far into the morning the
ra in for
MOI
m,
Cal en
al
juered
trode up
son's door.
le NS 10
tune.
The morning duties called them
dow i, and if Katie's heart ached over
brother's untouched breakfast, it
was comforted by seeing how deep was
his father's sympathy.
Days passed and weeks and Ned tried
to bear fis sorrow like a man. There
was no wapt of sympathy at home,
where the loving eves watched his
her
ale
would have given Susy its fall wealth
of love was generous to the home circle,
and for its sake tried to live down the
pain of disappointment. I know that to
be a proper hero Ned should 1
drooped, snubbed Katie,
been savage to all human nature, and
finally | to work ont his
spleen in some new life. Bat Ned's
heroism a strong element in his
pure Christian faith, which
to do as he wonld be done by, to honor
his father, to bear his cross patiently;
d so, if his merry whistle had ceased,
his voice gradually resumed its clear
and Lis manner grew
tender toward Katie, as he
marked her sympathizing love. Not a
Inve
}
wave left home
aught him
Susy, and some vagne ideas of a rescue
suggested themselves to
i
3 $
OD.
father's tyranny or melt his
stinate resolve. The idea that Susy
{
i
ing.
The summer months sped merrily,
and it was well understood in Allen.
town that when Jim Willis returned
there would be a wedding, while not a
“bor” in the village would
dreamed of daring to court a
word from Susy.
\ The long evening shadows of Angnst
when Katie sat dreaming in her little
room. Tea was over. Her father had
gone to town the day before with pro-
| visions, and wonld not return until far
{into the night.
| Susie, 80 there was no one to interrupt
the musing. She was thinking whether,
i might not think of quitting it, and the
| various pros and cous of Bob, Harry and
Will flitted through her coquettish lit
tle heart as she deliberated on
several cases, her heart frce to choose
from all of them.
Suddenly looking up
{ cottage.
gent never occurred to him.
The winter had set in before
word of the fugitives reached Allentown,
then Katie had a treasure
letter from Susy.
“ Dear, dear Katie” y it read), “1
may be doing very wrong to write to
you, after all that father has said; but
i has given me permission
one
tO show, a
is
you that my love for you
here a great blot told of & tear)
we shall never sce each other again, |
have been very sick ; so sick on the
road here that we had to stay nearly two
that is why I did not
Oh, Katie! I must mind
; but it is terrible hard not
Nights I lay awake and think of all
heart
seoms breaking when I think we may
Oh, Katie!
never let any other boy court me—tell
step, his bowed head and drooping
figure terrified his sister greatly. He
must be ill! Very ill indeed he looked
as he passed the gate she had hastened
to open for him. He made no
to her piteous inquiries as he passed
her to enter the kitchen, where he sank
down upon the floor, resting his head
on his clasped hands, and sobbed the
hard dry gasps of a strong man in
agony.
“Oh, Ned! dear Ned! what is it
Yon frighten me so! Ned, Ned, dear!
1 Is Sasy sick?”
He looked up at the name, his face
ashy pale, his eyes burning and dry,
{ “Don't speak of Busy, Katie! Don't;
| it kills me!”
“ But, Ned—"
| have had any secrets.”
She had seated herself on a low stool,
and drawn his head to rest upon her
| breast, and her gentle touch, her face of
spoke to her.
| “Jim Willis has ecime home, Kale,
| He's made a heap of money speculating,
| and bought a house in Cincinnati, and
| is going to take Susy and her mother
| there to live ; and he says I can't have
| Busy—she's going to be rich, and a city
| girl—and I'm only a poor country clod-
| hopper.”
{ “He said so, She's to go to Cin-
| cinnati and make a great match, and I
| can never see her again.”
““ But Busy—what does Susy herself
i Bay?’
| “He wouldn't let me see her, except
{ when he litted her into the coach to go
away—all white and dead like—where
she fainted.”
“Go away?”
“They're gone. He came home this
morning, in & coach he hired in town,
and he made them pack up and get
ready to go right off—wouldn’t let
either of them come here—tried to gut
away before I came, and drove mo away
as if I had been a loafer, Oh, Katie,
how can I live ?”
The loyal heart was nearly breaking.
Every word came ina gasp, and the
pallid face and quivering lips were
faithful witnesses of the terrible agony
of this unexpected blow. From a boy
fo a man he had cherished one dream
of future happiness, and it was a pain
that no language can adequately de-
scribe to see it thus ruthlessly dashed
from him,
Katie was powerless to console him,
The shock was to her only second to
his own, for Susy had been to her in
the place of a sister from thei» child-
hood, and she loved her brother with a
passionate devotion that made every
one of his voice, every quiver of his
pale lips a blow on her tender heart,
must try ; tell him I did love him with
all my heart; and don't let him quite
forget me, even if he marries some
Don't write to me—mother
says not; but think of me sometimes,
my love to Ned and your
father. Susy.”
That was all; but Ned felt when Katie
told him he might keep the letter, that
mines of wealth could not purchase it
from him.
Five years passed, and no word came
from Cincinnati. Katie was a wife now,
and mother to a bouncing boy crawling
about the floor, but Ned was true as
steel to his old love. No word of court.
ing had ever passed his lips since Susy
left him, and if his tall figure had de-
veloped to manliness, his voice grown
rougher, his frank face older, the boyish
love still nestled down in the depths of
his heart, and he resolved to live ever a
bachelor for Busy’s sake.
Katie's new cares had
and the name that had once been so
There was something very touching
in the manly courage which
brought to bear upon the sorrow of his
life, Never, save on the
when the suddenness of the blow pros-
trated him, had he given way to the
passionate grief in his heart, and his
often given to great deeds
the world ring.
It was Bunday morning, and every-
church except Ned and the baby,
fast asleep on a rug before the fireplace,
sweet, spoke his name,
He scarcely dared breathe as he
looked up.
hallow, the lips white and trembling,
pictured her living in wealth—forget-
ting him, perhaps—but never, never
this pale, grief-stricken woman.
** Ned, don't you know me #”
Still doubting, he rose and came to
meet her, till, with a glad cry, he
opened his arms and folded her closely,
a8 if never again to let her go.
“Busy! my Busy! Oh, how can I
ever be thankful enough? Oh, Susy!"
and the hot tears fell on the sweet face,
as he marked its white, ‘wasted lines.
‘‘ Father took to drink after he got
rich, Ned, and it is three years since
mother died. We were very wretched,
Ned; for city folks did not care for us,
and we were not used to their ways;
after mother died, father was scarcely
ever sober, and I had a hard time taking
care of him, till about two months ago
he was taken sick. We'd spent nearly
all the money long before; but I did
sewing, and sometimes father earned
something, until he was sick. Then we
were very poor; bat just before he died
somebody sent him some money they
owed him, He gave it to me, and told
me to come here with it, and ask you to
forgive him for parting us; so after he
died, | came to il still cared
for me, Ned?”
“Care for you! Oh, Busy, I will care
for you all my life if will stay,
Nusy I :
But the white lips gave no answer,
the head fell back nerveless, and as he
had seen her on that heavy day of part
ing, he held her now, The weary, over
tasked frame had given way under its
load of sorrow and trouble, and it needed
all Kitties tender nursing, all Ned's
loving care, to win the invalid baek to
them from her long, long illness, For
days her life hung on a thread, but at
last the color came flitting back to the
pale lips and cheeks, and when the vear
of mourning had passed, there was not
in Alle wn a prettier or more
wife than Susy Clarke,
a] VoL
you
win»
S0OHe
EE etl...
Incidents
The was more terrible than
anything often known, The wind in
creased so as in some places to destroy
buildings and actually take people off
d those who saw it deseribe
ho conflagration as a horri
flame, and say that the very air
seemed to be on fire, At the village of
Bad Ax, where the Haron connty build-
ings were, it began to grow dark in the
forenoon from smoke, ard in few
hours the pitehy blackness was like that
of a close cellar, so that it was impos
sible to see a foot. It was known that
there wero fires threes 1th, bat
there was no tho r until
suddenly there cam are, the
flame and wind immediate ly followe i,
and in thirty minntes fifty-three of the
fifty-five buildings in the place were in
ashes. The court house was of brick,
sovered with sh and there prov ple
for protection. The building
woaped destruction, and those within
¥ they suffered
¥ from heat. TI a were no lives
here, but this was exceptional
fortune. Reports from rome
too horrible to read. Num
{ people flying from death were
overtaken, and died in the roads, some
perished miserably in wells and other
places, where they had sought safety,
i rf a few women were
gs of childbirth.
of the Michigan Forest Fires
Bele
their feet, an
the
rush of t
cane of
8
miles
BO
10
iii)
toe
ste,
Ss | althaneh
8 SAVE, ARLoUgn
COR ATO
un flesh
weivaole in 1
al was a incredibly
and the smoke was every where
mdurable and caused man
by suffocation. he wok of destruction
: 8 towns in the
district escaped with a loss which seems
trifling, while in others apparently no
more exposed there are but a
tering buildings left. The
the villages, strangely os
caping, while others were strangely
destroyed. In the grass
roots and it is itself are
burnad so that it is impossible to tell
SONG
WAY,
most
iY ds aths
Fila
it
WHS Very uneven,
few soat-
SAILS Was
'
true of
y
some
said the soil
while in others near at hand crops of
grain are left in the shock untouched. |
A remarkable thing in the story of the
calamity is the presence of mind that
was everywhere shown. The people
were accustomed to danger from fire,
many of them had been through the
similar experience of 1872, and there
were fewer lives lost than might have
been expected. There seems to have
been but little panic and few threw
their lives away. Nearly all sought to
preserve themselves and property intel.
ligently, to have done al t the best
that was possible and very much better
than could have been expected. Do
i and fowls nearly all per.
X
Q Ou
mostic animals
ished, and it is noted thet they died in
groups each with its kind—rarely did
cows, horses or chickens die alone, but
all sought the companionship of their
kind. Great numbers of birds and in-
sects took their way to the lake, and,
overcome by the smoke no doubt, died
and were found floating on the surface. |
Corres; Springfield Republican
ens 6f é a
C—O
Trades for the Boys,
Not long ago a New York acquaintance
of ours inserted a fourline advertise
nant in one of the dailies for a book.
keeper. He received responses from
six bundred and seventy-three appli-
cants, nearly all of whom asked for very |
moderate wages, much less than he was
willing and expected to pay. Recently
we had occasion to advertise for three |
employes for the business department |
of the American Agricultwrist, and ever |
since we have been fairly deluged with |
Were all of these letters to be |
opened, one person would be occupied
not a little time daily in assorting and
answering them. If there such a
condition of affairs in the dull summer |
month of August, how large must be
the number of fruitless seekers for |
olerical positions during the active |
periods of the year, when so many flock
he
ment. Turning now to the trades, we |
discover that there las been a most |
active demand for men in every branch. |
Superintendents and masters tell us|
that, owing to the large number of |
buildings going up, they have been un
able to secure a sufficient supply of |
good workmen. The erection of many |
this scarcity of skilled artisans, and the |
latter have been able to command |
almost their own terms. Plumbers and |
masons have received and continue to |
times as much per week for their ser
vices as ordinary clerical labor receives,
While the latter goes begging, mechan-
ical skill is far above premium.
This seemingly natural condition of
ambition of both parents and sons to
have the latter * rise” in the world, to
be somebody, as it is termed. Youths
store clothes rather than outfits o. the
workshop. They do not wish to handle
the fathers
share in their feelings. And so the
work of orowding clerical channels go
on until now many thousands of menin
did not learn some trade, which would
always have commanded them work and
good wages, and have made them inde-
pendent and not subject to the fluctua
ting fortunes of this or that business
house where they may be employed.
The pulpit and the press cannot en-
gage in a better work thaq in combating
these falso ideas as to the nobility of
manual labor. In a comparatively young
and wonderfully growing country like
our own, the artisan, like the farmer, is
and will continue to be a most import-
ant factor; and we have heard no more
wise and sagacious remark than that re-
cently made in our hearing by a very
wealthy father, viz, that he was going
to have all his sons learn a trade of some
kind, so that they should have some-
thing to fall back upon, in case misfor-
tune or adversity ever overtook them in
the business which he should leave
them.— Agriculturist.
If you wish to appear agreeable in so-
ciety you must consent to be taught
many things which you know already.
BURNING THE DEAD,
How the Hite ls Performed by the Hindoos
wd Conitly Ceremonys«A Hundred Menus
tifa! Girls Bavoed at 8 Buttes In Hajpu~
ftaua,
The most expensive ceremonies in
India, says a correspondent, are mar
the priesthood, looks forward
dread to the period when his eldest son
is to be married, or to the death of his
father. In nine cases out of ten these
events prove the ruin and disgrace of a
family, plunging them into debt or out.
ting them off from their caste if they
refuse to expend vast sums upon either
of the ceremonials, The more enlight
ened Hindoos appreciate the foolishness
of these expenditures, but superstition
and the priesthood are as yet too strong
for them. All Hindoos burn, and Mo-
hammedans bury their dead. In SBouth
India greater attention is paid to the
ceremonial, preparation of the corpse
custom in North India, and for this
reason 1 shall first deseribe what I have
in Madms. Hindoos frequently
hasten the death of a sick mes, When
they make up their mina that the patient
is about to depart this world, they calm-
ly begin to ascertain how many yards of
muslin will be required for his shroud,
and actually take him from his bed and
place him in a wooden trestle prepara
tory to giving him his final bath, These
preparations are made several minutes
before the breath has left the man's
body, and while he yet retains his con.
No native ever permits any
person Lo breathe his last within four
walls, It isa curious superstition, not
unconnected with sanitary reasons, but
still it must be wretched for the dying
man to see the preparations for his
faneral condueted with deliberation by
those who ought to be plunged in grief,
Never has the dying native to bid his
friends dry their tears. If there is any
weeping it is done by the person who is
about to die,
Directly the breath has left the body
the corpse is bathed, scented and oiled,
It is then swathed in muslin of very
fine texture, purposely fabricated for
the dead. The body is enveloped in
this muslin, the head is bousd round
with the cotton cloth so as to keep the
firm, the cheeks are painted a
bright vermilion, and the hair is shaved
from the face. The body is then put
a litter, and the bearers, with a
crowd of retainers, friends, relations,
priests and beggars, start for the burn-
ing ghat, of a lower de.
gree, such as shoemakers, grass cut.
ters and grooms, convert their funerals
into regular theatrical farces. The lit.
sen
SCIOUSNOES.
JAWS
in
Other castes
work, with cane-seating, so that the
carriers will not be overburdened. It
is then covered with strips of red, blue
and yellow cloth, while the canopy is
invariably of white muslin, The poles
sustaining this covering are bound
round with gayly-colored strips of
, With any number of and
fringes. The corpse is always arrayed in
pure white, but ia surrounded by flow.
A peculiar, strongly smelling
white flower, called Chammo i
ways used for this purpose. Sometimes
originality is attempted, and hage pink
hollyhawks are put about the feet and
middle of the body. But this departure
is of rare ocourrence Muse plays an
important part in the funeral, and
greater the noise, variety and size of the
instruments, the more certain are the
acquaintances of the deceased that the
soul of their lost friend has gone to his
ancestral shades, It natives’
t to secure the services
of some one who can play a Earopean
instrument, and who has served in a
military band. If such aman can be ob-
tained to assist at a funeral service the
event is spoken of for miles around,
and other families who have sickly rela.
tives begin adding up the probable cost
and chances of equalling such grandeur,
Passing by a funeral cortege one day
I was astounded to hear such tunes as
Girl I Left Behind Meo,” and
“Slap, Bang, Here We Are Again”
ut what surprised me most was to hear
a fow bars of the famous song, ** March.
ing Through Georgia.” On making in
quiry I learned that some of the regi-
mental bandsmen were among the mn.
sicians, and their services were very
highly appreciated as well as paid. Four
men are quite capable of carrying to the
13
eloth tags
ars.
the
is the
would not be in accordance
Therefore asmany rela
but this
with etiquette.
place their little finger upon the frame-
Preceding these mourners are the mu.
The favorite instruments are a
dram. This noise accompanies the
low and yell, each according to her
taining to harmony. Often a fight en.
livens the day's proceedings. The
mother of the deceased frequently de-
clares that her son or daughter has
upon the departed by some jealous fe-
male relative. Therefore with peculiar
and scratch anybody who comes within
reach of her talons. The musicians are
also preceded in the cortege by near
relatives of the deceased, men
armed with swords, spears, javelins and
sticks, act as if they were fighting imag-
inary demons, The biggest leads the
way. He brandishes a huge sword and
makes a vicious cut at the empty air,
then jumps aside and yells that he has
cut a devil's head off. This absurd
action is imitated by the remainder. All
were wiping blood from their weapons,
suming their insane pranks.
maddened pitch by the screams of the
women, who incite them to frantic acts
by declaring that they see hovering in
the corpse.
ground. Some
ahead, carrying huge bales of red and
for the procession to walk spon
in turn,
place the members of the company ul-
ways separate, The litter beaters gen-
erally make haste to drop their load,
and rush to where the hooka (long pipe)
is in circulation. Of all those in the
cortege they have been the most de-
corous, though a few jokes and roars of
laughter perhaps were indulged in by
them, The women herd together, and
their songs are changed into weeping.
This weeping is done with a spasmodic
ardor. 'The mother leads off with a
prolonged howl, which is taken up by
the rest. This they continue through-
out the remainder of the ceremony, The
pyre is of curious construction. It isa
mound of stones, with sloping sides, on
which is placed a pile of straw and
barnyard sweepings, covered over with
chammalee flowers, The body is then
under it in Oriental fashion. The priest
each time sprinkling the corpse with
| water Sl from the distant Gunga
(Ganges). The priest then prays and
recites the virtues of the deceased, He
then stands a little distance from the
corpse, and, wiih his back turned to it,
invokes the blessing of the god of
death,
gods, he invokes the
priest, who hands him the vessel in
gether the two pray over it.
then takes a stick, wraps iv with a rag,
the flame, and then places it near the
the pyre is broken up, and water is
poured upon it so as to form a paste,
This is then taken up and plastered
over the corpse and pyre. Just before
could be imagined. Before
the crackling flames break open the en-
velope of mud, the priest takes a shov-
elfal of loam and hides the face before
the sight gets too sickening.
These ceremonies are only in vogue
among the lower castes of the Hindoos,
the Brahmins differing in some im.
portant particulars, For instance, they
have no music during the time the
corpse is being carried te the burning
ghat, nor do they have any frantic
zealots rushing about and fighting in-
aginary demons, No sooner is the body
completely covered up, and holes made
to escape, than the son betakes himself
to a tree, and, sitting under its shade,
awails there the arrival of the barber.
t is obligatory upon a Brahmin to keep
Lis face t haved, but during the illness
of a father it is permissible to let the
beard grow as a sign of sorrow and im-
pending disaster, But directly the
funeral services are over he must sub-
mit to be shaved from the crown of his
head to the soles of his feet. Two
barbers are generally employed in this
task, and, as the razor has to pass over
every part of the mourners body, some
time 1s consumed in its ascomplish-
ment. The head is, of course, shaved
first, the eyebrows next, and then the
evelashes are out off, and so on until
there is not a single hair visible on the
body of the bereaved son. The wid.
owed woman has to undergo the same
operation, but with this difference, that
she is never again permitted to let the
hair grow either on her head or on her
eyebrows.
The shaving completed, the most im-
portant part of the ceremony has to
That is the feast.
ceased be a Brahmin, he has to feed all
the Brahmins in the village, and as
their number is legion and their appe-
tites voracious, the family purse
pearly depleted, Filial affection is one
of the singular characteristics of the
Hindoo. The
father and eon is regarded as holier
and is more truly respected than that
existing between husband and wife.
0 sooner, however, is the head of the
house dead than his memory is scarcely
venerated, the eldest son taking his
father's place, About seven days alter
a funeral the eldest son or the next
nearest relative returns to the burning
ghat, and breaking open the plaster
covering the corpse, which, by
the action of the is baked hard,
takes out the ashes, places them in an
urn, and proceeding to the sacred river
or fank, scatters them fo the four winds
of heaven, This is the final act in the
geal drama of Hindoo life, and is far
more impressive than the ghastly cere-
monial of the cremation of the dead.
In Ceylon and certain parts of India
the Brahmins do not cover the corpse
with earth and permit it thus to burn,
but setually let it be consumed in fiery
This ceremony is performed
come.
$a
in
fire,
flames.
people being invited as if to a fete.
During the great famine of 1878-'79,
when the people were either too weak
or too poor to bum their dead, I saw
them just apply fire to the hair of the
head, leaving the rest of the body un-
singed. In one instance a man delib.
erately made his own pyre and then
threw himself npon it. I asked him the
reason. He said he would soon be
dead, and then there would be no trou.
ble about the disposal of his body, ex-
cept to fire the pyre, which he was sare
some one would do. Before the British
took possession of India the terrible
rito of suttee used to be performed, the
favorite wife burning herself with her
husband to minister unto his wants in
the next world, The English had great
diffienlty in repressing this, and it is
learned that in some parts of India the
custom is still observed. At the death
of one of the Mabarajas of Rajputana,
some fifteen years ago, 100 beautiful
young females were thus sacrificed. The
rite of suttee determined the site of
Calentta. A young Boengalee woman
was being forced on to her husband's
pyre, when her shrieks attracted the at.
tention of the erew of an English vessel.
The captain decided upon her rescue,
and ealling on his men to aid him he
attacked the funeral party and saved
the woman. She, out of gratitude,
spot of her deliverance, thus forming
Jritish India.
O55
TIFIC NOTES,
SCIEN
The Greeks called scissors a *“ double
razor.”
The pea is supposed to be a native of
France.
to shine.
There is red and green as well as
Charcoal deepens the tint of dahlias,
hyacinths and petunias,
The owl, which easily digests meat,
cannot digest bread or grain.
The earth is surrounded by an atmo-
| sphere of 800,000,000 cubic inches,
Pacific, possesses fossil fac-similes in
chalk,
| Animal fats or oils are contained
| chiefly in tho cellular membrane be-
neath the skin.
The horsefly has 4,000 eye lenses, the
cabbage butterfly 17,000, and certain
beetles 25,000,
Lime is a preserver of wood. It has
been noticed that vessels carrying it
last longer than any others,
Cocon beans possess twice as much
nitrogen as grain, and therefore choco-
late furnishes much nutriment,
Dr. Cornelins Herz, in France, trans.
mitted andible speech 800 miles with
the aid of his telephonic system.
In some water plants the flowers ex-
pend at the surface of the water, and
after fading retreat again to the bot.
tom.
A mixture of one part of alcohol and
nine parts of crystallized carbolic acid
is stated to afford great relief in cases
of bites from insects,
A row of guncotton reaching from
Edinburgh to London, it is said, could
be fired in two minutes, so rapid is the
transmission of detonation from one
part to another,
FACTS AND COMMENTS,
A Western statistician has ealenlated
that the annus! loss to the country by
fires set by the sparks of locomotives is
between twenty and thirty millions of
dollars; and yet it has been shown by
the successful and prolonged experi-
ment of the London Underground Rail.
road company that locomotives can be
fitted at » small expense so as to con
sume their own ph i and smoke with-
out any necessary 1ss of speed,
A little girl of three years, who had
attacked and was about to be
killed by a so-called tame deer in San
Antonio, Texas, was rescued by her
brother, only two years older than her
self, The plucky little fellow seized
the angry beast by the horns, and, in
spite of vigorons pitching and tossing,
held on with great spirit and determin.
ation until his mother and a servant in.
terfered and reduced the animal tosub-
jection,
The chief medical officer of the New
the fact that, notwithstanding the great
not a single case of that disease has
been found among the lunatics, who
last year numbered 672. Attendants
and laborers about the institution suf.
fered severely. The explanation is
found to lie in the fact that, not that
insanity protects from malaria, but that
the lanaties are never allowed to be out
of doors after nightfall.
One of the most remarkable petitions
on record has been a to the
police commissioners of Bi Louis,
signed, it is said, by many prominent
business men. It asks plainly that
“square gambling” may be allowed.
The petitioners say that they sre op-
posed to the offensive and disreputable
feature of gambling, but not to ** square
gambling, operated under proper ans
pices, as it has been by certain citizens
of good character and reputation, who
are interested in the prosperity and
welfare of the city.”
Failure to get a divoree from his wife
has led a Moravian peasant to commit
an extraordinary crime. Returning home
from the court, he set fire to his own
house, in which Lis wife then was, and
the flames gol so far beyond control
that they not only destroyed this house
but thirty-six other houses in the neigh-
borhood, and the barns adjoining, in
which were the results of the year's
harvest. The poor woman escaped from
her burning dwelling house in safety,
but in another house a woman was
burned to death. Several persons were
severely injured elsewhere,
Leprosy exists among the Chinese to
a greater extent than is generally sup-
posed. It is one of the most dreaded of
diseases in China,
belief there that if a person afflicted
heart the evidences of the disease wiil
not appear in the face, and that he can
thus escape being known as a leper,
This notion has probably been the
cause of many murders. The leper's
demand for alms is seldom refused,
most Chinamen dreading the victim of
this loathsome affection, and fearing
that, if denied assistance, he may in
some way infect them with hie leprosy,
as, for instance, by tainting their food.
after America every day in England.
Hitherto it was necessary in the parks
in London to pay one penny or two
rich in flowers and shrubs, During the
height of the season these rows of chairs,
at some points three and four feet deep,
extending from the corner of Rotten
row to the rails opposite the French
house at Albert Gate,
have been filled by crowds paying small
sums to witness one of the most splendid
sights in toe world. The minister of
public works announces that hereafter
seats will be provided for the publie
aftor the fashion in the parks of New
York,
terrible accident which ocenrred at the
railway station of Seclin. A young man
named August Provost opened the door
of his carriage and got off on the side of
the other track. He had hardly got on
the track when an express train from
a foot, The heart was found on the
road, torn from the breast and still beat.
ing. The fragments were collected and
as far as possible restored to their
proper place. the body being thereupon
taken to the hospital of Seclin for iden-
tification. His wife and brother-in-law,
suspecting that he might be the vietim,
came to inspect the body, but it was
impossible to distinguish his features,
His dog was then sent for, who as soon
as he was brought in presence
children.
In 1865 the number of letters sent
The avail-
able data for 1877 shows that the postal
had risen to over
4 020,000,000, which gives an average
of 11,000,000 per day, or 127 per sec-
ond. Europe contributed 3,086,000,000
letters to this enormous mass of corre-
Asia, 150,000,000; Africa, 25,000,000;
and Anstralia, 50,000,000. Assuming
that the population of the globa was
ing the double, treble, ete, lines.
and the number of messages may be set
]
671 per hour and nearly 212 per min.
ute. These quantities are increasing
daily,
The Oldest of Mammies,
Among the royal mummies the oldest
is King Raskenen, one of the latest
monarchs of the seventeenth dynasty.
According to Marlette, this dynasty
ended B, 0. 1703. As Raskenen was
not the last of this line, we hall not be
far out of the way in saying that his
mummy, with its fine linen shrond and
its three carved cases fitting together
like a nest of boxes, is about 3,700 years
old. Four Lundred years before the
Israelites crossed the Red sea this mon-
arch ruled in Thebes. Nearly all that
we know of the doings of humanity
upon the earth has taken place since he
was oiled and perfumed and laid away
in his painted boxes. Yet we can touch
his hands to-day and look into his face
and read his history written all over his
coffin,-~New York Tribune.
onsen cs st
The world knows no victory to be
compared with that over our own pas-
sions and failings,
EI AR SA
A Florida Typhoon,
On the approach of sutumn the
Floridian quakes with apprehension, It
in the dread season for hurricanes,
Tearing through the West Indies, they
often strike the coast with scarcely a
note of warning, houses are overthrown,
sailboats blown from the water, and
orange groves swept bare of leaves and
fruit. Bome of the old settlers say that
they ean detect the signs of the storma
day before it breaks upon them.
“Yon feel it in the air before it
comes,” says one. This is, however, an
indefinite sign. The devastation ining
its track certainly proves that * you
itafter itcomen.” One of these typ
visits the const Svery Joa. The day
may be bright and besutifal, snd the
flowers heavy with bees and h
birds, Bhimmering mosquito hawks
quiver in the air, and the scarlet cardi.
nal twitters in the acacizss. A eoo
breeze plays through the leaves of the
trees, and gently gvings the unripe
oranges. Clouds of gulls soar above
the dark green mangrove bushes, and
the sand bars, at low tide, are covered
with pensive curlews and willets. The
drowsy roar of the surf is heard, and
the gentle swell of the ocean is rippled
with golden sheen.
Almost imperceptibly the wind dies
away. Cries of terns and water birds
fall upon the ear with painful distinet-
ness. The mud hens in the marshes
pipe an alarm. Not a blade of salt
grass moves, The blue sky grows hazy,
and the eastern horizon is milky white,
Fitful gusts begin to ripple the water
and handle the green PE A low
moan comes from the ocean. Smoky
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clouds roll into the sky from the south-
east and a strong wind whitens the
in fury. An ominous yellow light tinges
the atmosphere, The sun is gone, and
great drops of rain are hurled to the
ground, Within fifteen minutes there
is a gale, and soon the whole force of
the hurricane is felt. Great eagles and
pelicans are swept through the hesvens
utterly powerless. Sparrows and other
small birds are lashed to death by leaf-
less twigs, and the torn bodies of showy
herons and wild turkeys lodge in the
branches of the live oak and cypress
trees,
All living things disappear. Tall
pines are twisted asunder. The lithe
limbs of willows and oleanders s
Lolty palmettios ben
their heads to the ground, their great
fans inside ont, like the ribs of an upn-
brella. The force of the wind keeps
the trees down until every green fan
pops like a pistolshot, The leaves of
the scraggy scrub are wiped out, and
their stems whipped into little bushes.
The torgh saw palmetto is blown as
dead grass of the savannas is lashed
into fine dust. Boards in the surf are
struck by the wind and sent spinni
hundreds of feet in the air. The
dunes are canght up bodily and sifted
through the tops of pine trees miles
beneath the houses on the mainland,
and comes up between the cracks of the
floor like steam.
Woe to the owners of sailboats snd
boat houses, At Lake Worth, the Cruiser,
heavy, round-bottomed sailboat,
thirty-two feet long, was picked up
{from ber ways, rigging and all, and
without touching the water. A boat
wes torn from her moorings, lifted from
the water, and dropped into a salt
yards away. In
the fall of 1876 the Ida Bmith, a large
schooner running between New Smyroa
and Jacksonville was torn from her
anchors and stranded on a marsh five
‘Le cosst-survey steamer, in a good
harbor sheltered by sand banks, threw
out three anchors and kept her wheels
working against the wind under a full
head of steam. She dragged ber an-
chors several bundred yards, and barely
escaped destruotion,
The hurricanes last from seven to
eight hours, even longer. During the
lull rain falls in torrents. The tide
rises to a great height, carrving away
wharves and boat houses and flooding
the country for miles. The ocean leaps
the sandy barriers of the coast, and
floods the Indian and other salt water
rivers, involving great damage. After
the storm centerboards and jibstays are
found in spruce pines, oleanders are
loaded with cordage, and deadeves and
peablocks drop from the leafless orange
trees. Gardens are destroved, fenoss
The Chick-a-dee and the Eagle ~ A Fable,
Once upon a time a Chick-a-dee and
an Eagle had nests in the same forest.
The forest was plenty laree enough for
both, and peace and harmony might
have prevailed but for the jealousy of
the Chick-a-dee. Having been created
by nature for a small bird, and havin
worms, it made him wroth to behold
the Eagle having such spread of wings
One day, after the Chick-a-dee had
e beheld the majestic Eagle pounce
down and secure in a moment a fish
large enough to last him three days.
This capped the climax, and the Chick-
a-dee flew higher up in the tree to con-
sult the Buzzard as to what could be
done.
“I'd lie about him,” was the advie
of the Buzzard, after thinking it over.
The Chick-a-dee therefore flew
through the forest spreading lies and
slanders regarding the Eagle, but the
results were not satisfactory. No one
seemed to believe them, and many ad-
vised the Chick-a-dee to continue his
grubbing and let other Birds do as
pleased them best. In this emergency
the tiny Bird again applied to the Buz-
gard for advice. The unclean Bird
picked his teeth over the subject and
replied:
“You must go to the Eagle and tell
him what you think of him.”
Early the next morning the Chick-a-
deesot out on his mission. Meeting
the Eagle in mid-air he began a tirade
of abuse, but the Eagle did not seem to
hear, Enraged and exasperated, the
Chick-n-dee used still stronger lan-
guage, but the result was the same.
“Say! say! I'm abusing yon!” he
finally called out, * I've slandered yom,
lied about you, and now I insult you,
and you dare no! resent it.”
“ Little atom,” replied the Eagle, as
he slowed up a little, “if struck by an
Eagle I should strike back. When a
bird of your size bothers me I cannot
oven afford tims to stop and eat him.”
MORAL.
A chick-a-dee can't increase his own
bulk by slandering the size of an eagle.
— Detroit Free Press.
Too Early,
“ Come, now, it is time for you to go
to bed,” said an Austin lady to her lit-
tle children ; “you must go to bed.
Don’t you know all the little chickens
have gone to bed ?”
“Yes, but the old hen went to bed
with them.” — Texas Sifting:
Josie Mansfield
gambling house in
exclaiming: *
God !it is all over!” And it was |
over—America was free.— Scribner.
Mr. Topn
last night, the
and jokes he heard set to thinking.
So at breakfast he began on Mrs. Top-
noody. She was warm and mote
much in the humor for pleasantry,
Toptoody Slushed away.
“I say, Mrs. Topnoody, can you spell
hard waier with iiree ed i
“No, I can’t; though, if
had taken me to minstrels las
night.” This staggered him a little,
but not seriously. ;
“ And you can't spell it? Well, i-ce,
ain't that hard water?”
Mrs. Topnoddy never smiled, and Mr.
T. went on: . >
“Now spell ‘money’ with four let-
ters.”
= 1 Sons Euoy how,” she said.
* Ha, 's too good. Woman
never can get at this sort of thing in the
same clear-headed way a man can.
Well, the way to spell itis, c-a-s bh, ain't
that money :
Again did Mrs. T. fail to smile, and
Topnoody started out with another.
“Hold on a minute,” she interrupted,
looking ugly; “I've got one; let's S00
if you can get it. Spell ‘ Topnoody
with four letters.” Topnoody ch
his head and gave it up.
“Ho, ha,” bed Mrs T., * that's
too goed. at thi
sort of thing in the same clesr-he
way & woman can. Well, the
ment, “It is easier for a camel,” ete.,
has perplexed many good men wh
have read it literally, 3