Newspaper Page Text
W. M. CHENEY, Publisher.
1 (" IT SEEMS BUT YESTERDAY.
It seems hut yesterday that May
Tripped lightly past, nor paused to stay
A moment longer than 'twould take
To set her signet near and far.
In field anil lane—the daisies' star;
To set the grasses all ashake;
To kiss the world into a blush
Of brier-roses, pink and flush,
For summer's sake.
It seems but yesterday that June
Came piping sweet a medley tune,
Whereto the robin and the thrush
Lent each his thrilling throat, the while
The loeust there beside the stile,
Beep-hid in tangled weed and brush,
Spun out the season's skein of heat,
With now a "whirr" of shuttle fleet
And now a hush.
It seems but yesterday, and yet
To-day I found my garden set
In silver, and the roisterer wind
Made bold to pluck me by the gown,
What time I wandered up and down
The path, to see if left behind
Was one last rose that I might press
Against my withered cheek, and less
Feel time unkind.
—Julie SI. Lippmann, in Atlantic Monthly.
"N. C. J. MARABON."
BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.
"N. C. J. Marabon," his name stood
on the class roll. The rules of the col
lege required that the name of each stu
dent should appear in full, and mine was
there as Gabriel Pierce Belfort. His
was the sole exception, and why it was
so, as in the case of Lord Dundreary's
puzzle, "no fellow could lind out."
When N. C. .T. came he declined to com
ply with the rule and desired to give his
reasons, confidentially, to the faculty.
That august body, being as curious as
their juniors, met in secret conclave to
consider the case and listeued to the peti
tioner. His excuses were sufficient and
they accorded the exemption. But
when' he emerged triumphantly from the
faculty chamber, just as the door closed,
there was a terrible burst of laughter ill
his rear. This piqued our curiosity still
more. The secret seemed to he impene
trable. N. 0. J. himself was as mute as
an oyster in the matter, and we dared
not pump the professors, though we al
ways pronounced them to be old pumps.
However, N. C. J. turned out to be no
end of a good fellow. He was as strong
as a bull and as agile as a cat, and after
lie had thrashed a half dozen who had
undertaken to haze him and proved him
self to be the best batter in the ball field
he became popular. He used to tell a
great many stories of life in North Caro
lina, from whence he came, and always,
no matter how funny they were, with a
grave face. So we nicknamed him North
Carolina Joker Marrowbone, and it stuck,
or part of it, and we addressed him in
dillereutly as North Car'liua, or Joker,
or Marrowbone, as the whim struck us,
and he took either in good part.
Marabon and I became quite intimate.
We were£chums, passed through our four
years of college life together and were
graduated at the same time. Then he
went back to North Carolina and I took
up the study of law and iu three years' j
time was called to the bar. AVe kept up j
a correspondence, though we did not
meet. About two years after we had
taken our degree he came to New York
and our letters continued. He was quite
rich and liked New York and club life. I
was not quite so well oil, and lived in
Brantford our county town, rarely going
away, even for a vacation. 1 was quite
surprised then when one uay, a short
while after I began practice, he walked
into my office. Of course I was glad to |
sec him, seated him in my clients' chair |
and produced a box of cigars frome one j
of the drawers. We each lit a cigar I
when we leaned forward.
"Bel," he said—he always called me
so for short—"l'm in a mess of trouble
and I must have some advice. I thought
of you and as I know you are not so
great a fool as you look Iran up here by
the ten o'clock train to consult you."
"Well," said 1, not much fiattered by
part of his speech, and determined to re
turn him a Roland for his Oliver, "the
conference of two fools is not likely to
amount to much, but what is it?"
"It involves a seeret," he said,"which
you must consider professional. By the
way, what kind of a cigar is this?"
"Key West," I replied laconically.
"I thought so. Why don't you smoke
"Can't afford it."
"Can't, eh? Well, partly as a fee and
partly out of regard for yours truly, 1
shall send you a hundred of the right sort
as soon as 1 get to town again."
"All right, I'll accept them; but am I
to wait for your story until thecigari get
■*No. You«ee I've been expecting to
marry. The lady has confessed she re
ciprocates and all was sailing along
smoothly when up pops an obstacle."
"Whois the lady, Marrowbone?"
"Miss Edith Keteltas. You hare heard
"I should think I had. Daughter of
old Keteltas who made his money in—no
matter how he made it—he did make it.
The lady is a belle, a beauty, his sole
heiress and every one speaks well of her.
Permit me to congratulate you. But
what is the obstacle?"
"Take notice that all this under the
rose. The obstacle is this; I shall have
to give my full name wheu I get married.
In fact, she wants to know it now. What
shall I do?"
"Do! Why give it, of course. Why
"But how can I ever do it? Youdon't
know yet, but when you do you will see
that it is quite impossible. I should never
hear the last of it. The newspapers re
porters would get it. The little boys
would shout it on the streets. It would
be in the comic papers. They'd sing
songs about it at the minstrel shows. It
is too dreadful to think of."
,I What on earth can you mean? You
seem excited. Take another cigar."
"Thank you, I will. Are you sure
there is no one in hearing?"
"Not a soul."
"Well—N stands for Napoleon."
"A good enough name. What is there
dreadful in that?"
"And C stands for Cffisar."
"The two together are odd, but not so
"And J—well, J is for Jehosophat.
Now every one nearly mis-pronounces my
name any how, and I put it to you, as a
friend, if I can go through life as
Napoleon Cesar Jehosophat Marrow
I had to laugh—l couldn't help it—
not so much at the name as at the in
tense misery and despair in the counte
nance of Marabon. Wheu I recovered
myself I asked:
"llow in the name of goodness did
you come by such a queer collection of
"I'll tell you a bit of family history.
You see, we Marabous are of an old
North Carolina family of Huguenot de
scent, and pretty well off. My father's
Christian name was Algernon. He used
to say it should have been Issaehar—
that he was an ass stooping between two
burden. o , his wife and his mother-in-law
—he was given to bitter speeches. When
1 was born there was some discussion
about a proper name for me. It was a
regular family council. There were
Grandfather and Grandmother Marabon,
Grandmother Jenifer, father and mother.
Grandmother Jenifer was a rather im
portant personage. She was richer than
the Marabous, a widow, and could leave
her property to whom she pleased. My
mother's younger sister, Felicia, had
married with Sam Martin against her
consent, and she declared none of the
Martins should be the better of her
money. There was no one else for her to
leave it to but mother or me. So her
views in the matter had to receive re
"She was one of your father's 'bur
dens,' I said when he paused.
"Exactly; but he didn't tell lier so.
Well, they met. My grandfather voted
for Peter. 'Let us have one good, sensi
ble, substantial name. 1 let my son be
ehristened Algernon, to please his mother,
but one fool name is quite enough in a
family.' Grandmother Marabon thought
he ought to be named after his father.
Mother timidly suggested—John!
"Then Grandmother Jenifer llared up,
'Peter is bad enough, she said, and Al
gernon worse; but John! Why, every
one will call him Jack!'
" 'Suppose they do,' said mother,
plucking up spirit. 'John is always
called Jack by those who like him. It
shows he is a good fellow.'
"'Or Johnny!' sneered Grandmother
" 'I didn't think of that,' said mother,
appalled at the possibility. 'What would
you call him, mamma?'
" 'lf I am to have any say in the mat
ter,' said Grandmother Jenifer, 'I should
suggest a name of a quite different kind.
The boy bids fair to grow up to be a fine
man with a great head on his shoulders;
that comes from the Jenifer side of the
house, at least from the Setons, for he
has my father's head to a mold: and I
shouldn't be surprised if he became a
great soldier or lawyer, or something. He
S should have a name with a ring in it, a
something that will stimulate him to do
something to deserve it, a name to rouse
his ambition and strengthen his purpose
Call him Nanoleon Ctesar.'
LAPOKTE, PA., FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1889.
"Mother agreed to this, she always
gave into her mother at last, but the
others demurred. There was a tie vote,
for father seemed to be barred out.
"They wrangled over the thing for
two days, when Grandfather Marabon
proposed a compromise. 'Let's leave it
to the minister,'he said. 'Dr. Curran is
a sensible as well as a good man. Let
every one write down the name he or she
prefers on the same sheet of paper. Al
gernon can hand it to Dr. Curran and tell
him he is to select the one he thinks
best.' This was finally agreed to. Grand
father and Grandmother Marabon both
wrote what is called fine hands, and
Grandmother Jenifer a bold hand. This
time she enlarged it until it rose to what
the boys at school called a 'big hand,'
and the Napoleon Ctesar went two-thirds
of the way across the page. Father took
the paper. He did not care a straw
whether I was called Peter of Algernon,
but he revolted at Napoleon Ciesar. So,
before he handed the paper to the minis
ter, he wrote Jehosophat! in quite as big
letters as Grandmother Jenifer's, right
after hers. This was to call Dr. Curran'a
attention to the absurdity of the name
just before. Now you see how the thing
"I can't say that I do, as yet."
"Ah! But you must know that my
father was a soft spoken man, and when
he said in a lov voice, 'You will find the
name on this paper, Dr. Curran, you are
to choose which.' The minister only
caught the fint part of his remarks, lie
looked at the paper.' He was a little
short-sighted; but he caught Grand
mother Jenifer's big letters anil my
father's after them and quite overlooked
the others. lie thought the name queer,
but not exactly open to canonical objec
tion, and it fixed itself in his mind. So
when the moment came I hail the name
of Napoleon Caesar Jehosophat fixed on
me as tightly as the church could do it."
"Then your Grandmother Jenifer must
have been pleased?"
"But ahe wasn't, though. She de
clared that father had done it on purpose
to make fun of her. She left our house
and took up with Sam Martin, and when
she died she left to Felicia and her chil
dren everything she had."
"That was bad."
"It wasn't bad for the Martins, and 1
have enough. But how am Ito break
the matter to Edith?"
"It is the easiest thing in the world,
my dear Joker. 'Napoleon Marabon"
sounds very well."
"But the Ceesar and that abominable
"Give them the go by. Follow the
example of men of rank abroad. There
isn'l a king, nor a royal prince, nor the
head of a noble house that hasn't from
three to thirty names given him at his
baptism, but he never uses but one.
There is no law here that forces you
to use more than one of yours. Drop the
Ciesar and Jehosophat, at least the Je
hosophat, and with the bravery inherent
to the name itself, march to matrimony
as Napoleon Marabon."
N. C. J., as N. C. J. no more, took
comfort and my advice. 1 was the
groom's best man when Miss Edith
Keteltas became Mrs. Napoleon Marabou,
and the gratitude of my friend seems to
know no bounds. He not only gave his
willingness, but he never rested till Ire
moved to New York, where he promoted
my fortune iu various ways. lam al
ways an honored guest at bis table, and
a very young gentleman in New York
! bears the name of Gabriel Belfort Mara
But a secret will leak out. lam sure
I never breathed it to any one; I am
! equally sure that Napoleon never did, un
j less it might have been muttered in
) sleep; but Mrs. Marabon knows all about
jit. Yesterday they had a good-natured
dispute, to which I was an amused lis
tener. Marabon's logic was too much
for his wife, who took refuge in a retort.
Looking quizzically she raised her fore
j linger, and to her husband's great aston
i isnment, said: "Now, you Jehosophat!"
! —JVVje York Mtrmrv.
An Unwritten Law Among Bee Hunters.
There is a common law among them,
or there used to be among the bee hunt
ers of the North and West, that the mau
who first finds a bee tree is entitled to
the honey. The owner of the land where
the tree grows is not brought into the
question. The first duty of a man who
finds such a tree is to put hi* mark upon
it . After this if any one else cuts the
tree down and takes the honey the of
fense, in the estiinatir.i of mountaineers,
is mortal. Washington. Star.
Several thousand Japanese have gone
to th# Sandwich Islands.
A HUNGER STRIKE.
A KEVOI/F OF RUSSIAN EXILES
The Tlirraienetl Flogging—A Des
perate Protest Against Cruel
ty —Starving to Death—The
Int><<j Century Mr George Kennan gives
the fol owing account of a prison revolt
among the Siberian exiles: A few days
later—about the middle of July—all the
rest of the State criminals were brought
back to the political prison at the Lower
Diggings, where they were put into new
'.uid much smaller cells that had been
made by erecting partitions in the origi
iii.l kameras in such a manner as to di
vide each of them into thirds. The ef
fect of this change was to crowd every
group of seven or eight men into a cell
that was so nearly filled by the sleeping
platform as to leave no room for locomo
tion. Two men could not stand side by
side in the narrow space between the edge
of the platform and the wall, and the oc
cupants of the cell were therefore com
pelled to sit or lie all day on the plank
nares without occupation for either minds
or bodies. No other reply was made to
their petitions and remonstrances than a
threat from Khalturin that if they did
not keep quiet they would be flogged-
With a view to intimidating them Khal
turin even sent a surgeon to make a phy
sical examination of one political, for the
avowed purpose of ascertaining whether
his state of health was such that he could
be flogged without endangering his life.
This was the last straw. The wretched
State criminals, deprived of exercise,
living under "dungeon conditions,"
poisoned by air laden with the stench of
excrement-buckets, and finally threatened
with the whip when they complained,
could endure no more. They resolved to
make that last desperate protest against
cruelty which is known in Russian prisons
as "golodofka," or "hunger-strike."
They sent a notification to Major Khal
turin that their life had finally become
unendurable, that they preferred death
to such an existence, and that they
should refuse to take food until they
either perished or forced the Government
to treat them with more humanity. No
attention was paid to their notification,
but from that moment not a mouthful of
the food that was sent into their cells
was touched. As day after day passed
the stillness of death gradually settled
down upon the prison. The starving
convicts, too weak and apathetic even to
talk to one another, lay in rows, like
dead men, upon the plank sleeping-plat
forms, and the only sounds to be heard
in the building were the footsteps of the
sentries, and now and then the inco
herent mutterings of the insane. On the
fifth day of the "golodofka" Major
Khalturin, convinced that the hunger
strike was serious, came to the
prison and asked the convicts to
state definitely tipon what terms
they would discontinue their protest.
They replied that the conditions of their
life were unbearable, and that they
should continue their self-starvation
until the buckets were taken out of their
cells, until they were permitted to have
books and to exercise daily in the open
air. until they were allowed to direct
the expenditure of their money for bet
ter food antl better clothing than were
furnished by the Government, and until
he (Khalturin) gave them a solemn assur
ance that none of them should lie
flogged. The commandant told them
that the talk about flogging was non
sense; that there had never been any
serious intention of resorting to the whip,
and that, if they would end their strike,
he would see what could be done to im
prove the material condition of their life.
Not being able to get any positive assur
ances that their demands would be com
plied with, the prisoners continued the
"golodofka." On the tenth day the state
of affairs had become alarming. All of
the starving men were in the last stages
of physical prostration, and some of
them seemed to be near death. Count
Dmitri Tolstoi, the Minister of
the Interior, who had been apprised
of the situation, telegraphed the com
mandant to keep a "skorbnoi lecst," or
"hospital sheet," setting forth the symp
toms and conditions of the strikers, and
to inform him promptly of any marked
change. Every day thereafter a feldsher,
or hospital steward, went through the
cells taking the pulse and the tempera
ture of the starving men. On the thir
teenth day of the "golodofka" Major
Khalturin sent, word to the wives of all
political convicts living at the Lower
Diggings that they might have an inter-
Terms—sl.2s in Advance; $1.50 after Three Months.
view with their husbands—the first ir
more than two months—if they would
try to persuade them to begin taking
food. They gladly assented, of course,
to this condition, and were admitted tc
the prison. At the same time Khalturir
went himself to the starving men and as
sured them, on his honor, that if the}
would end the hunger-strike he would
do everything in his power to satisfj
their demands. The entreaties of tht
wretched, broken-hearted women and the
promises of the commandment finally
broke down the resolution of the po
liticals, and on the thirteenth day of tilt
first and most obstinate hunger-strike in
the history of the Kara political prison
came to an end.
Electricity in Caast Defense.
Electricity plays perhaps the most
wonderful part in all these huge works.
Not far from the main fort, there would
be built a little round building. This
would be the place for the "tower of ob
servation" of the commanding officer.
From here he could see all over tht
harbor and away out to sea. The tower
would be strong, and inside would be
the wonderful key-boards of the electric
system. By means of these, the com
mander could telephone to the Captain
of any battery to load his guns, and aim
at such and sucli an angle and direction.
The Captain of the battery would do so
and telephone back the moment he was
ready. The commander could tell the
Captain to fire, or he could, if he choose,
press a little key and himself fire each
gun singly or all the guns at once. He
could do the same with all the batteries
and forts, and he could, from his little
tower miles away, by a light touch of his
finger explode every gun in the harbor,
and send tons and tons of metal flying
with crushing force at any vessel lie
pleased. He could do even more. lie
could explode any, or all, of the mines
and torpedoes at once, or he could have
one grand simultaneous explosion of all
the guns, torpedoes anil mines. At each
fort and battery would be stationed
officers who by means of instruments
would find exactly the course of the
enemy's ships. This would be tele
graphed to the commander, who would
thus know at every instant just where
any vessel is, and how fast she is sailing.
So lie could predict that a ship will pass
a certain spot at a certain time, and, if
j she did not change her course, coultl
press the key and blow up the vessel,
| or send at her a huge bolt of iron or
| steel. If the enemy had landed a force
j on the mainland down the coast, and it
1 was marching on the fort to take it in the
; rear, the commander could wait till lie
| saw the force on a road approaching a
| fort, when, pressing another key, several
I iron doors of the fort would open and
| automatic machine guus pop out, and
| commence firing at the rate of six hun
| dred shots per minute apiece, and keep
| it up till the key was pressed again,when
i they would withdraw and the shields
| close. It can be seen that the com
mander should know absolutely all that
is going on, as otherwise he might fire
1 into his own forts, or his own patrol
j boats.— St. Nicholas.
A Smart Bird.
There is a lady in the eastern part of
the city who has » remarkably bright
mocking bird. He is just two years old
i and can sing as divinely as though he
i had caught the tones from heavenly
It is amusing to hear him practice—
;he is vain—and loves to do well; so re
! cently, when his owner tried to teach
him to sing "Johnny Get Your Hair
! Cut," he would stay awake all night and
practice "Johnny get"—it didn't quite
suit him, so lie began again, "Johnny
get your hair!"—again there seemed to
| be a discord—but perseveringly he went
back to the beginning and that time he
succeeded satisfactorily. For weeks this
was kept up every night to the annoy
ance of the sleepers in the house, but
finally when the tune was learned it
stopped. This bird tries many airs, antl
j sings some of them real well; for in
stance: "The Elephant Walked the
Hope," "Molly Put the Kettle On"and
; the "Kimball House Waltz." are on his
i list.— Alluntii (Oa.) Widely Journal.
Pigeons as Bearers ef 111 Tidings.
Carrier pigeons will be kept on board
the Ostein! mail boars for th • future, so
; that news of an accident may be sent to
! shore at once without depending on pass
ing ships. This plan will prevent any
repetition of the troubles experienced by
the Prineesse Heuriette when her mt
' chinery broke down during the voyage,
itiid she had no means ol summoning
Makes attractive waist places—A sash,
Always gets "fired out"—The caunon
Even a cloud occasionally gets on a
Some transatlantic lines Ocean
The up's and down's of time—Clock
"So live that when the summons
comes"—you won't be afraid of the sheriff
who serves you with it.
Difference between a ship and a street
sprinkler—One walks the water and the
other waters the walk.
We occasionally hear the expression
"pocket the loss," when the meaning is,
the loss has been unpocketed.
Greece is to put up a monument iu
mernorv of Byron. It should be "Maid
of Athens" marble.— New Orleans Piai
"No one can tell the effect of a smile,"
says a philosopher. Can't, eh? Sup
pose. you try apple-jack and see.— New
Singley—"How much you resemble
your sister, Miss Bjones! I would take
you for her." Miss Bjones—"W -well,
Mr. Singley this is so sudden; but you
may ask pa."—lsiwrencz American.
A Hare Entertainment: Gus " What
did you think of our amateur theatricals,
Miss Mamie? Rather a rare entertain
ment, was it not?" Miss Mamie—"Well
er-yes; it wasn't very well done, to be
sure."— Harper's Bazar.
"Mechanicalclocks," said a local horo
logist to a New York Star reporter, "are
: greatly in demand all the year round.
1 They are mostly imported, and range in
price up to $75 each. Oh,as to styles,there
| are many, representing nearly everything
I iu art or nature. Some jewelers keep a
| large assortment of these horological curi
: ofities. A good deal of advertising is
! done by means of mechanical clocks.
I They look like toys, but they are excellent
timekeepers, and placed in store windows
attract considerable attention. I have
seen crowds standing in front of these
curious clocks, watching 'he movements,
j It may be a gilded maiden swinging to
; and fro, or listening to the sweet music
! of H chime of bells ringing as the pendu
! lum oscillates. Yes, the mechanical de
vices are very popular as advertising
schemes. In some of the clocks the me
chanism has its own separate spring,
while in others the same power runs both
that and the timekeeping movement.
" 'Who are the best customers for me
"That depends on the style of the
clock. You see that artistic little boiler
all in nice working order? Well, a con
tractor or builder will come along and
snap it up for his office, sure. So with
the others. Some (esthetic woodworker
i will buy that handsaw clock, a machinist
will fall in love with that triphammer
movement. While the pretty little wind
mill will, perhaps, gladden the heart of
some Western miller on the lookout for
novelties in l>is line."
Some of the prettiest specimens of me
chanical clocks are to be met with in
New York. Many stores attract goodly
custom by exhibiting these curiosities.
Thought He Would Wait.
A well known Scotch bishop never
married. While he held a certain see he
was of course a subject of considerable
interest to the celibate ladies of the
neighborhood. One day he received a
visit from one of them who had reached
the aye of desperation. Her manner was
solemn, yet somewhat embarrassed; it
was evident from the first that there was
something very particular upon her mind.
The good bishop spoke with his usual
kindness, and encouraged her to bo com
municative. By and by he drew from
her that she had a very strange dream, or,
I rather, as she thought, a revelation from
heaven. On further questioning she con
fessed that it had been intimated to
her that sin was to be united in mar
riage to the bishop. One may imagine
what a start this nave to the quiet scholar,
who had long before married his books
and never thought of any other bride.
He recovered, however, ami addressing
her very gently, said that doubtless these
intimations were not to be despised. As
vet, however, the designs of heaven were
hut imperfectly explained, as they had
been revealed to only one of the parties.
He would wait to see if any similar com
munication should be inside to himself,
i:ii'l when it should happen lie would be
sure to let her know.— Host on Traveler