AS RA ANS I tm ASH In Holland the year 1893 was only marked by a first trial of an extension of the right of suffrage. The Chicago Times alleges that trol. fey mortality statistics are filling the daily space formerly given to cholera reports. The Boston Commercial Bulletin estimates that the total yield of wool in 1893 was 364,156,666 pounds, the largest American clip ever raised. The impression prevails in leading commercial circles in Germany that the seven lean years are ended and that better times are coming with the new year, Ouida describes the nineteenth cen- tury clothing of an Englishman as ‘‘the most frightful, grotesque and disgrace- ful male costume which the world has ever seen.” Charity pawn shops, where people | may get more nearly the worth of their | goods that they are compelled to part with than now, are suggested by some of the charitably disposed, states the Detroit Free Press, State Geologist Smock, of New Jer- sey, who has been on a business trip to Holland, says he thinks 300,000 | acres of Jersey meadow land can be reclaimed by adopting the Holland system of embankments and dikes. the proposed improvement of country roads, by laying steel railway tracks to be nsed by wagons and electric | cars, will hardly satisfy the wheelmen, to whom all the credit for the agita tion in favor of better roads is due, The New York Journal avers that the hard times have had a curious ef. fect in reducing the sales of condi- ments, sauces and similar table lux- uries. provide for would rather buy corned | beef than curry when the money runs | short. A composite picture of the Ameri- | can of the future would be worth | According going along way to see. to Henry Watterson, of the Courier- Journal, he will be a union of Cava- lier, Puritan, Celt, Teuton, Scandi- navian and other elements too numer- ous to mention. ment of recent small-arms ns tions among the troops in the Far | West show conclusively, Washington Star, military service does very not compare his favorably with pale-face brother in the matter of sharpshoot- | ing. There is a popular idea, gained from Cooper's Leather Stocking Tales and even more modern literature about the ‘‘dusky denizens of the for. "” est,” that all warriors are marksmen. the Indian soldier is concerned. Some time ago Mr, Carnegie, the ex- tensive iron-master, was approached by the relief committee of Pittsburg | and asked what he was willing to do for the city. he scriptions of the whole committee to will to make him give as much as pos suffering unemployed of that Mr. that would sub- The with replied the city. Carnegie duplicate went work gible, and had up to a few days since | to means Mr The secured subscriptions smounting $60,795, when by some Carnegie’s offer became public. committee has done an incalcalable injury to the | good work, ss the subscriptions at | The | people of the city argue that if the | millionaire is going to give so large » | once fell off to almost nothing. sum it is unnecessary ‘o make ap effort. The “Excelsior,” the largest dia. mond in the world, is now deposited in one of the safes of the Bank of Eng land. It was jound in June last in the mines of Jagersfontein, Cape Colony, by Captain Edward Jorganson, the in. spector of the mine. In his opinion, corroborated by that of the director, Mr. Gifford, the “Excelsior” is a stone of the purest water, and is worth about 85,000,000, It is fully three inches in height, and nearly three inches in breadth, weighing 971 carats, or about seven ounces troy. Thecolor of the Jagersfontein diamond is white, with a very slight bluish tint; and ite lustre is matchless, At the centre is a very small black spot, which experts oonsider will be easily removed in the eutting. According to M. X. West, the British Government have offered balf & million pounds sterling for this diamond to the proprietors, Messrs, Breitmeyer and Bernhéimer, but the offer has been refused. The favorite course of study among the Yale students this year is the Con- stitutional history of the United States From all over the country comes to the San Francisco Examiner ‘‘an omi- nous intimation that the tramp who will not work shall not eat.” Appendicitis, which has become a fashionable disease during the past few College this term than in sll the rest of the State of Connecticut. Now the cry of suffering comes from 000 are on the verge of starvation, not to a line bordering on pauperis. | greater decline, | tons, while in 1893 The Cleveland Leader thinks that A man who has a family to | relates the | that the noble red | man as represented in Uncle Sam's superior | Army statistics prove that | this is a romantic delusion, so far as | a i says that the publication | The four newsdealers (111.) into leading Danville have entered agreement not to sell the dime trash | of the “Jesse James™ type. Since the boy murderers, Pate and Stark, de- clared that they owed their ruin to these novels there has been a decided crusade against their sale in Danville, Only thirty-five vessels have been | sixty-one were built there in 1592, The registered tonnage shows an even In 1892 it was 17,277 5589, it was but ““This,” comments the New York Sun, “is a striking indication of the extent | of the depression in the shipping in- dustry during the year.” Those who read juvenile literature of thirty years ago will recall the queer | pseudonym “A. L. O. E.” weich ap- | peared on the books of Miss Charlotte Tucker. death of this lady in India, where she She had the gift in an unusual degree of A London cable records the | was engaged in missionary work. interesting young readers, and many of her stories are so good that, in of the San Francisco { Chronicle, they are worth reprinting | the estimstion for a new generation. The reason for rejoicing in the midst of | the prevailing gloom, maintains the | Tribune. In spite of the increase of | population, the number of deaths in | 1803 was little greater than in 1862 — only forty-one larger—while the num- o Yirths iporeage than healthfulness of New York is a d. more 2000. The desth rate for last year was 23.46 per 1000, against 24.26 in the previous year, while for the Inst ten years the average has been 24.72, The Board of Health's most recent es- timate of the population of the city is 1,801,308, the estimated increase from the previous year being nearly 50,- | 000, so that a year from now the popu- lation will approximate closely to 2, 000,000. The Manufacturers’ Record has pub- lished pages of letters bankers in all parts of the South in of business, but especially as regards the two from regard to the general condition | financial position of Southern farmers Without exception these letters say that the enforced economy of the last has Southern two years caused a completd change farm methods; that the in farmers are giving more at tention to diversified agriculture, and that they are now well supplied with corn and provisions, which will pre | vent the heavy drain of former years to pay for Western food-stuffe. Sum ming up these reports the Manufac “They economic turers’ Record says: that the Southern farm interests is undergoing whole policy of a change and the eredit system is be The low price of cotton fou the last few years forced upon the farmers the ing superceded by a cash basis stuffs, and added to this was the de- cision of bankers and factors formerly, The result has been a passing from the eredit with its liberal buying to a eash system requiring the closest economy, there has been less trade with farmers, and hence a de- the Bonth. about a more solid condition of busi ness in those dependent upon furm have had for many years are carrying small stocks and buying only ns needed; farmers are paying off their debts to such an extent that without exception these letters from bankers say that the farmers are loss in debt than for years. The money that formerly went North and West for provisions and grain has been retained at home, amd the full result is that this section is probably less in debt to its own banks snd less in debt to the Notth and West for supplies than in any year since the war enGad.” years, has had more victims at Yale | India, where, it is reported, 50,000,- | because there is unusual deficiency of | food, but becanse excessive taxation and the monetary uncertainty have re- duced the pittance left to the people | An | built at Baltimore during 1893, while | | new and energetic methods of JdelWg | business. : i show necessity of raising their own food | to ad- | vance much less money on cotton than | change that for the time being, while | | an’ a big stock o esttle all clear, | a fortune.” creased volume of general business in | But this has brought | e | sinking his voice almost to a whisper, trade throughout the South than we | Merchants | | nights; wal, he says there's another J - n—- — THE TRUE MAN, Take thon no tage for aught save right and truth, Life holds for finer sonls no equal prize ; Honor and wealth are baubles to the wise ; And pleasure flies on switter wing than youth : It in thy heart thou bearest seeds of hell, Though all men smile, yst what shall be thy gain? Though all men frown, if Truth and Right remain? Take thou no thought for aught; for all is well, ~-Lowis Morris, sem — - ILL UNCLE DANLS W ® \ VERYBODY con- siderod Nat Farley very audacious, for # seventeen-year- old boy, when he bought “‘Grandsir” Jackson's two horses, his express- wagon and the good will of his business. Bought it partly on credit, too! Some all ont. A thonsand dollars down for said the Widow Jackson was foolish | but they soon forgot | ever expressed that to trust a boy, that they had opinion Nat's purchase of the “‘concern” came about quite naturally, He had driven the express-wagon for a whole year before the old man's death, and therefore knew the run of the busi- ness, Moreover, he had acquired self-reliance in supporting himself ever since his mother died, when he was not fifteen years old. The price that the Widow Jackson askod for the “plant” and good will | was only three hundred dollars—small | price, as Nat knew wall; but he had | only.one hundred and fifty dollars in the world, and in the Blankton savings | bank. How to get as much more was | Nat's problem. The chance was not to be neglected, | however, He went around to consult his only surviving reistive, his Uncle Dan'l, from whom the boy had never | sought a cent's worth of «id in any previous emergency Unele Dan'l seemed either to dislike the security, or to be without funds. He hemmed and hawed and changed the subject so quickly that Nat went away in despair, Still one chance remained, and he! took it. Perhaps the Widow Jackson would trust him, if he offered her » high rate of interest. So she did. Nat paid his hundred and fifty dollars down, gave her a chattel mortgage on the plant at ten per cent. for the re mainder, and entered into possession. | How joyfully he set at work! He | rubbed down the horses and repainted | | the wagon himself, making it a bright | yellow, He put ‘‘Nathaniel Farley, Blankton Express,” in big, bold, black letters on both sides, snd started upon | his independent career by introdncing Of course Uncle Dan’] heard the news, but he asked no questions when Nat | came to see him as usual. Indeed, ¢ Uncle Dan'l was not an inquisitive man. Neither did he disclose his own affairs to any one, Nobody understood Uncle Daniel Farley. Bome said he was rich, some | said he was poor, though he owned a fine farm, and nobody knew whether it was mortgaged or not. He did not confide even in “Cousin Cynthy,” who had kept house for him for thirty years, So well did Nat manage his express business thet he had paid off the widow in a year, and had over a thou- sand dollars in the bank at the end of | three years. Then a startling proposi- | tion was made to him one summer | evening, when he had delivered his! last parcel and was arranging his | orders for next day in the crown of | his hat, “Been running this business three or four years, hain't ve, Nat?" asked John Butman, another notably shrewd young man. “Three,” said Nat. “Paid pretty well, haint it?” “Tol'able well, Nat, cautiously. “Must ‘a’ lsd up somethin?" ; considerin’,” said | | the { that Butman and { fresh; but as ‘‘Nothin' to speak off,” said Nat, still more conservatively “Wal, now, look a-here! somethin’ to say to yon, Nat.” Butman looked cautiously up and | down the road. “*Me and Dave Saw- | yer has both got a Yew spare dollars not many, of course tucked away in the toes of our stockin's, and we've | been a-thinkin'-—you remember Alf Hapgood and the two Blanchard boys?” “First-rate.” “They went out West a-ranchin’ three year ago come this fall.” “You, jest as I was settin’ up this business.” “Wal, they've got on like a house afire; doubled their money every year, paid off the mortgage on their ranch, an’ now they've got the land Do It moans 1 got yo know what that means? “Whew !" whistled Nat. ‘Now see here!” pursued Butman, “There's milk ip this coconnus.” “What d'ye mean?’ “I mean Alf Hapgood has sent home word to his sister Almiry-— youn know I sometimes drop round there Sunday | ranch for sale right alongside o theirs, an’ he warts me an’ a conple o' fellers of our sort to come out an’ take it, See?” “Bat-" “It'll make every one of nasa rich man, I tell yo. Not the kind of rich man they have round here in Blank. ton, with a few hundred dollars sn’ a eta you ean't git your livin’ on, but ! Al “It'd take a lot o' money to begin with." | presence, | house “Not a grest pile. I've ciphered it } i the land, the rest on mortgage: two thousand to stock it, and there we are; and you sad I and Dave Sawyer can do that as well as three millionaires.” Net went home with his head buz- zing. Butman's talk was only confir- matory of other things he had heard. It wes the beginning then, twenty-five years ago, of ranch-life in the West, and the wildest stories had reached Blankton of the fortunes made out on the plains, Butman and Sawyer waylaid him every day on his route, and poured into his ears such new and potent argu- ments for going with them that Nat soon found nimself yielding to their enthusiasm, and in the end decided to gO, Beveral weeks passed before the prep- arations of all three were completed. At last came the day preceding that fixed for their departure, Nat went to bed that night in such a fever of anticipation that his sleep was much broken, and when he heard | partners were succeeding beyond their wildest expectations. Things had not gone so weil with Nat. Of money he had gained none; on the contrary he had spent most of his hard-earned savings on the farm. Nor had he gained even thanks. Uncle Dan’l, if he felt gratitude, never showed it. As for hie own conscience, Nat was not quite sure, on a review of the cir- cumstances, that Uncle Dan’l might on shares and done better without him. What wonder that hope faded from his heart, ambition gave way to a certain stolid apathy, the brightness and cheer disappeared from his face, nnd the neighbors presently discovered that Nat Farley was another man, Another year went by before awoke from his lethargy. Nat One after { noon Consin Cynthia came running out to him in the field with the an nouncement that ‘‘something had hap himself called at an unusually early | hour next morning, he bounded with | one leap into the middle of the floog, | and shouted out: “All right! ready in & minute!” “It ain't the boys!" cried Cousin Cynthy's voice through the door. “Yonr Uncle Dan'l's had a stroke!” never be the same again,’ said the doctor, as he stood with Nat beside Uncle Dan'l's bedside. When the doctor had gone Cousin Cynthia was busying herself about the sick-room Nat realized the significance of what the doctor said. | It came full upon him as he watched { the bent figure and infirm step of the | old woman. “He aint ever goin’ to be well again,” mused Nat. ‘She's an old woman ; she must be goin’ on seventy, i snd | into the low-studded parlor. | North Parish and earth and all Tell the boys I'll be | | here it is, and it “He may pull out of this, but he'll | lief that he had pened to Uncle Dan'lL” Nat hurried in. Something had indeed happened to Unele Dax'i. old man was his face bed. His dear ns 1n- terests were as nothing forever more to Uncle Dan’l On the afternoon of the day when Uncle Daniel was buried, Nat was looking round the farm with the be- inherited it as of kin,” when Bquire Proctor up to the door. lawyer, too, who lived in the middle of the town. Nat ushered his visitor mm ie poor lying on in Mr. will 7” “Perhaps you didn't know, Farley, that your uncle left a said Bquire Proctor. “No,” said Nat. “He anything to me about it “Well, I drew one up for him and must be offered for never probate.” it's all she can do to swing the house- | work, and more, too, There's got to | be somebody to take care of him and run the farm.” i from his { will. Nat went out and peeed up and down | narrow entry, debating in his mind the knottiest problem life had | yet presented to him ; Who was there to take care of Uncle | Dan'l and poor old Cousin Cynthia if Nat went West? Uncle Dan’! had some savings and Even supposing that | eculd hire help enough to run the farm, how would the old man snd the ! old woman farz at the hands of stran- | gers? The news of Unele Dan'l's “stroke” had flown over Blankton so quickly breakfast, three went ont and sat tion. For an hour the other young mex | quietly. plied Nat with all the arguments in favor of going West ; but his decision | hardened under their words considerations by which he had tried to persuade himself to leave his strick- en uncle seemed very sordid and con- temptible when urged from the outsiders, “It's no use, fellows,” said he, “What's no use?” “1 can’t go with you, | with Unele Dan’L." “Foli! don’t be a born fool! You | ain't got to do anything of the sort,” said one. “He'll be all right just as soon as he comes out o' this,” said the other, and both poured protestations on him. “ "Taint any use, fellows; "taint any kind of use,” said Nat, firmly, when he got a chance to speak. “I'm aw- fully worry! '"T'would 'a’ been tiptop to a’ gone with ye, but it's no talkin’ now; I can’t go!” “Wal,” said Dave, ‘1 spose a man conld get his salt off’'n Uncle Dan's farm if he liked his victuals pretty for ‘gittin’ om,” you use i to Dave Sawyer came { hurrying to Uncle Dan'l's place before | {| Nat had finished his The | down on the | woodpile, discussing the new situa- | fOr 8 parsonage’ i i i i Got to stay Bquire Proctor drew the document pocket, put on his specta- cles, cleared his throat Nat sat silent for several minntes af- ter the reading ceased. He stared st the lawyer with a look of stupidity. Presently he said huskily : “Rend that again, squire, you?" won't Bquire Proctor slowly re-read the will, time. The furnitare in the Louse was given Cousin Cynthia, in recognition of her long and faithful The BETVIOR. live stock snd farm utensils were to be | sold to pay the funeral expenses of the testator, and to build him a suitable | monument. The farm itself together with sll buildings thereon standing was given in fees to the “Yes, I understan’ now,” said Nat, “I guess it's all right—that's all, I #’pose?” “That's all the will,” said Squire | Proctor, adjust h iacles, ‘‘but | The A Prooto justing his spectacles, u | her shaw, here's a codoeil : “fq give snd bequeath to nephew, Nathaniel Farley, the red lips of | leather trunk which stands in my bed- chamber, together with all its con tents.’ " “Yeu,” said Nat, submissively. “I know it, and I'm obliged to him, I'm sure.” “Perhaps its are of value,” suggested the lawyer, sympa contents | thetically “Wal, I don’ know; it's his clo'es He'd worn ‘em a good deal, and be warn't 80 big as I am by a good deal, tut it don't make any difference. meant well, I guess, an’ I'm obliged to him all the same.” The lawyer rose to go. Nat fol lowed him out of the house, watched him unhiteh his horse and get into his | buggy, when, with an air of seiz’ag an reight as well blow soap-bubbles for a | { livin". “Salt or fresh, don't eal’late on my ghiftin’ ground on thismsatter, fellows, My mind's made up!" Unele Dan’l slowly recovered from his shock, but his strength, both men- tal and physical, was shattered. He became able to go about the house and dress and feed himself, and to under- | | stand matters of every-day business; | but he was no longer the man he had been, He seemed to pay no heed to Nat's but treated it quite as a matter of course; and when it came to he liked,” but he was loft to foot the bills, As these were repairs which were imperatively needed, Nat had them done. From the fact that he did pay the bills it may be the thought flitted through his head that as the farm was reasonably sure some day to come to him, he was only doing himself a ser- vice. 4 Although these expensive repairs made quite a hole in Nat's hoard in the bank, he made no complaint. As for Uncle Dan’l, he saw the improve- ments going on without comment, Thanks to Nat's energy and thrifty management, She place soon took on quite a different air. The neighbors noticed it, but Uncle Dan’l gave it no attention. The only week-day interest left to him in life seemed to be found in a pile of old Farwers manny the aconmulation of many Sundays he went to dl bongpilrinen before, for he had long been one of, the chief props of the North Parish and poi 0. relating to it was still dear t his hoart, Meantime s the Joti rolled on reports came om the plains o the success of Batman and Sawres. Nat was not ore, when, st the end ot the first , Alf ri phi that Nat's former shingling the barn, psinting the | and new-flooriug the stable, | Nat was not only told to “do jest as 1 Aho ten-atre pasture near the house. opportunity, he called out: “I say, square, you don’t know any- body that wants to hire a good stout farm hand, do yon?” “No, but haying season is coming on, and 1 you won't find any trouble in getting a job, I guess.” As the law allowed him a certain number of days to remain upon the place, Nat quietly busied himself in tidying things up and getting the property in hand over to his successors As for Cousin Cynthia, who was go- ing away to live with a widowed sister, she duly began, with many tears and lamentations, packing up the house hold effects. Nat, busied with his own affairs, took no heed of her ments, guess One day, however, she came to him as le was mending the stone wall on and asked: “What d'vyou want done with that trank of yours?’ “Wal, I guess you may have it, if you'll take it." “Mercy sakes! how you talk. That's all you've got of hi- You ought to hold on't fur a keepsake.” “P'r'aps you're right, but I don't want what's ir it. The ele's ain't any use to me. You might empty it out an’ pat my things in it.” “I wouldn't empty it for nothin’ in the world, 'less you was there to see,” objected the scrupulous old woman. “If yo could only come in for tea minutes or so" “All right,” said Nat, patiently, brushing his hands on his overalls. As he went to the house sa gleam of wild hope touched him. He suddenly romoembered a story he had once read of a lot of money having been found in a trunk left by will. Pomibly Uncle Dan’l had hidden money in the red trunk. Nat watched the un: of it with some interest, not have got some one to run the farm | next | drove | The squire was the | said | and read the There could be no mistake this | North Parish my | He | shipshape condition to | move- | - wn —— what shell 1 do with these old al manacs ?"”’ “Burn 'em up!” said Nat, half con temptuously, and went out of the house quickly, In a few days Nat handed over the farm to Bquire Proctor, his unele's executor. As the lawyer had predicted, he himself found no difficulty in get. {ting a place with one of the neighbors | ing farmers for the coming haying sear | kon, | A few days later, news same from | the West which once would have stirred | Nat deeply, but now did not rouse him | from his apathy. The news was that | Butman was coming home to marry { Almiry Hapgood, and thn go into | partnership ‘out West” with her brother Alf. Thus Dave Sawyer would { be left without a partner. He wanted { one with five thousand dollars. Nat { had not go many hundreds left, for the greater part of his hoard had gone to | improve the parsonage farm | The day after Butman came he went | to see Nat. Batman had the bright eye, the ringing voice, the jovial air “Why. Nat, tin’ to look like man you must get out of this little Brace up snd go out on the | where CAN square yo { Dave is lookin’ for | you.” “Oh—1 guess Blankt enough for me,” said Nat, {ee iy ing to assume a jocular air, “Unele Dan'l used you mighty mean, from what I've “Oh, he meant well, I guess Nat. “Didn't leave you anthing at | heard." “Trunk full of clothes and old al- | manacs,”’ said Nat. He was interrupted by Cousin Cynthia who approsched, { breathless and excited ! Merey me, Na- cried “Who'd yeh I'm so a—1I Farmers’ 1 rd Say own, rete ev an old Prairies, LS 1bhow K. IAN &s you Lr just such a good ZOO try- n 18 heard,” said Batman. said all, 1 “My goodness thaniel Farley!" ever'a'thought — ugh out of breath that I can’t I—yon remember them Almanscs®”’ “Them in Uncle Dan'l's Yes—what about ‘em ?” | “Who'd though? sakes, I sha'n't get my breath agin for sweek! Yon know you told | burn "em up?’ “Wal, what If 1 i? “J-.1 didn't think I should ever do it, but we was needin’ kindlin’ to-day, snd there wasn't a shavin' in the house | nor auy paper neither, an’ I—I hap- pened to see them almanacs, and I--I broke the string and went to tear one on "em up, when—who'd a’ thought! but he was allers a curious kind o' man, Uncle Dan'l was “What are you trying to say?” in- | terrupted Nat, losing his patience. | “Can't you out with it without goin’ round Robin Hood's barn?” “Wal, now, you better just find out for yourself,” exclaimed Cousin Cyn- this, drawing a package from under “You better just look at these ‘ere almanacs before you go | givin’ on ‘em sway again to be burnt up—there they are just == you give ‘em to me.” The old woman handed to Nat. She and Butman st ing his proceedings. Nat sat down in the grass and care- fully went through the | Between the leaves were bank notes to the walue of dol- | IAS “I told ye meant well,” said Nat. — Youth's Companion. ghe batt wag viii YO trunk? ever ‘a land's me Ww 1 ai 1K ever the parcel vod watea- id volumes. seven thousand An Old Idol. A letter in the Philadelphia Times describes a curious old idol recently discovered on the banks of the Sabine River in Texas. The image was nearly | four feet high and was of = three- headed man, with the scales of a tar- tle covering the entire bo The idol is hollow and contained the skele- ton of a young child placed in it in an upright position, the head fitting into that of the god Whether the child was thus sacrificed to the god or the imag? repositon the dead body cannot be decided The carving on the idol shows a degree of skill uncommon among the Indians as | existing now or as found bere by the | early settlers, and as the banks of this vicinity were evidently erected by a people antedating these, it 1s probable that the image was of their religion also, It is of stone, and is composed of four or five pieces neatly cemented | together with a substance not recog: | nized by any mason who has seen il. | The union of the several stones em- | ployed in it is so cunningly done that only a close examination reveals it at all. The eyes are of agate, and cut with the skill of a finished lapidary ; and, by some contrivance, are so ar- ranged as to move in the head from side to side and to close by the shat. ting down of iids of silver. The panther claws are also of silver, and the feet are of obsidian highly pol- lished. One of the three heads wears » benign expression, while another grins maliciously, and the third frowns heavily and shows clenched teeth of obsidian; doubtlessly the ‘tree conntenances showing the wari ous attributes of the god represented. ————— A Curiosity of the Law, Additions to rented premises, when made by the tenant, should never be fastened with nails, but with screws, says u St, Louis lawyer, The reason for this lies in the fact that should he wish to move away and take with him the boards and other lumber compos ing the improvements he has made, he oan simply draw out the screws and take the ke. If he fastens them with nails, however, he oan remove iy and the improvements become be 4 The fact re- sults froin a quibble, for temporary use, and if put ix iv merely used as a or by the tensut are his own
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers