Newspaper Page Text
THE WEEKLY CHRONICLE.
VOL I. NO. 25.
The St. Louis Star-Sayinys believes
that Germany is threatened with an ant:,
corn law agitation.
i A very large acreage is devoted tc
grape growing in New Jersey, and the
area is extending yearly.
It has been stated that the cipher used
by the United States Navy Department
cost SSOOO, and is so complicated and
intricate that it absolutely defies so
lution.
Four thousand women are employedin
the various Government departments at
Washington. “They’ get good salaries,
have easy hours and do good work,’’
asserts the New York World.
The New Haven brakeman who was
crippled in October last and recovered
SIO,OOO damages from the company at
his first trial, is probably glad now,
opines the New York Commercial Adver
tiser, that the court granted a new trial
to the railroad, for the poor fellow’s sec
ond verdict is for $27,500.
Doctor Emil Laurent, a well-known
scientist, has taken General Boulanger
for the subject of an elaborate criminal
anthropological study. He finds the
General’s skull to be of a similar con
struction with the skulls of the assassins
Havaillac, Balthasar, Gerard and Jacques
Clement. ‘‘Moral sense, rudimentary;
forehead, very weak; selfishness, enor
mous.” This is Doctor Laurent’s final
judgment.
The height of novel heroes coutinues
to increase. According to the Speaker,
out of one hundred and ninety-two of
these gentlemen who were “reviewed”
between October and June last, no fewer
than eighty-five stood at least six feet in
their stockings, while many were con
siderably taller. The average height of
heroes of romance has, in fact, been
raised three-quarters of an inch during
the period in question, as compared with
what it was in novels published between
January and September, 1889.
The memorial over the grave of Ben
digo, a prize fighter, was unveiled in
England a few days ago in the presence
of a crowd composed largely of prize
fighters and Methodists, Bendigo having
been a Methodist preacher in the latter
■days of his life. The monument is a
sleeping lion of gray stone, and is said
to be very imposing. It has the inscrip
tion: “In memory of William Thomp
son Bendigo, of Nottingham, who died
Aug. 23. 1880, aged 69. In life always
brave, fighting like a lion. In death like
a lamb, tranquil in Zion.”
Montagu Williams, one of the beat
known of London magistrates, has pub
lished an interesting volume of his ex
periences. As human nature is much the
same everywhere, so these reminiscences
are of value everywhere. Mr. Williams
says that the greater his knowledge of
the starving poor, and of the criminals
who are too often the victim of their
circumstances, the more he is disposed to
deal tenderly with them. He is all in
favor of mind sentences, and is persuaded
that, except with confirmed reprobates,
leniency is more powerful for good that
severity.
New York City is making a deter
mined move to establish cheap lodging
houses for women, and seems likely to
succeed, hopes the Chicago Herald.
Houses not managed on a philanthropic
but on a purely business basis are to be
established throughout the metropolis.
For from ■fifteen to thirty cents a woman
can secure in one of these houses a de-
cent and private lodging for the night,
and can get her breakfast for ten cents
in the morning. If well carried out this
will be one of the grandest of benefac
tions. The want of decent surroundings
-drives more women to crime than any
other cause.
It is frequently asserted that the col-
lege baccalaureate sermon is a distinc
tively American institution. In the
main, admits the New York Commercial
Advertiser, this is true. But something
much like it has lately been adopted at
the English institutions of Oxford and
* Cambridge, though the sermon is more ol
a general theological nature and less an
address of counsel to the graduating
class. This change is peculiarly worth
notice, in view of the fact that Mansfield
College of Oxford has this year broken
all English precedents by inviting an
American clergyman to deliver the clos
ing address of the college year.
THE OLD DWELLING.
See how the dwelling tumbles to its fall—
The wondrous house of life, now leased to
death.
How softly in and out moves the light
breath,
And gently in the tender- memoried hall
Speaks the loved owner, soon beyond recall 1
In the fast closing windows glimmereth
A dying glory, as when sunset saith
Good night, sweet dreams, and faith and
hope to all.
Thus, full of enterprise and joyous trust,
Perched on a sill, serene and plumed for
flight,
A dove will pause while ruin round it lies.
So, too, dear soul, although thy home be
dust,
Ydf* thou, thyself, now free as morning
light,
Canst find another home, ’neath other
skies.
—Charles H. Crandall, in the Atlantic.
MY SOLDIER.
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.
We had been dancing. My aunt’s
young people were very fond of dancing,
and, in fact, she was herself.
There in the West, they always had
a very jolly time, and I, as a guest, had
been made a great deal of, and my aunt
had especially enjoined Captain Duncan
to “devote himself to me.”
He certainly had obeyed her. For
two or three weeks we had been walking
together, riding together, dancing to
gether, until it was as natural a thing to
say “Lucy and Captain Duncan,” as
though we had been engaged to each
other.
And now, on this evening, which was
a more important occasion than usual,
he had never once left my side, nor had
I wished him to do so.
He was best of all to me, that big,
handsome fellow, with his upright bear
ing, who had come down from the fort
on leave, and who was a real soldier, not a
make-believe one for parade day, such as
we had in Edgecliff.
I forgot everything else when he was
with me, and I had never been so happy
in my life; only at night sometimes, re
morse seized upon me between winking
and sleeping, and I cried bitterly, think
ing how Dick . But no matter for
that just now. lamat my aunt’s ball
and we have been dancing, and now as
he led me out upon the big veranda, and
wrapped me well in my cloak that I may
not catch cold, and has kept his arm
about me longer than necessary, in doing
80.
The great vine that drapes the porch
throws flitting shadows over us, but the
moonlight kisses his black curls, and I
can see the glow of his eyes, and the
crimson of his lips under his dark mus
tache, and I am sure he can see my face
by the way he looks at me.
From the house the regular beat of
the music comes to us. Oh, how welll
remember it all, and every word he said
to me—every word.
“Lucy, I am going back to the fort
to-morrow, that is why I speak sooner
than I ought. I have not known you
long, but I believe that when love
comes to a man, it comes out of ambush,
as an Indian does—without warning. So
it came to me as I saw you—yes, as my
eyes met yours. You are the only
woman I have ever loved or ever shall
love; can’t you like me a little? If the
red imps do not get my scalp in this
skirmish for which we are looking, will
you be my wife?”
He drew me closer to him, he pressed
his lips to mine, and all my heart went
out toward him, and however much he
loved me, it could be no more than I
loved him.
And then suddenly, all that I had ior
gotten rushed back upon me, as the
water comes roaring in at a broken dam,
and I cried out:
“Oh! Captain Duncan! Don’t—
don’t! You mustn’t kiss me—you
musn’t talk to me. lam engaged to be
married. My promise is given, my wed
ding day is set, and Dick is true to me
—and I cannot—l cannot!”
He had dropped my hand, he had let
go my waist, he stood at a distance from
me, with so cold a look that my heart
stood still.
“Man was never so mistaken in
woman,” he said. “You are engaged to
be married, you love another man, and
yet have led me on as you have done.
What was your object? Do you esteem
it a triumph to win a man’s heart only to
break it? Enjoy it then. I hope that a
poisoned arrow is marked for me out on
the plains there, for life has lost all its
value. Good-bye.”
He was gone. I could not call to him
to come back. I could not cry out for
all the world to hear, “I am engaged to
another man it is true, but I love you.”
For a moment I thought I should die
of the agony I suffered; then the moon
bght grew faint, the sound of the music
altered to a wail, I stretched out my
hands as a babe does to the mother who
has left it alone, uttered a great cry, and
fainted away.
And now to explain how all this came
about. To do this I must retrace my
steps a little.
I was my sister’s bridemaid when she
was married. She was just eighteen and
the eldest of the family, and I was not
much past sixteen.
There are women of sixteen, and chil
dren of sixteen.
I was a child in feeling and a woman
in looks, for I had grown up tall and
slender, and with a manner which my ad
mirers called “queenly” and my detrac
tors “airish. ’
FORT GAINES, GA.. FRIDAY, JULY 24, 1891,
People usually treated me as if I were
years older than my age, and I, for my
part, felt that, if Kitty, with her little
tip-tilted nose and dimpled cheeks, could
aspire to the dignity of wifehood, I
might. Therefore, as Richard Gardner,
who was the bridegroom’s best man, was
of the same opinion, I speedily engaged
myself to him, and afterward, in Ameri
can fashion, “told my mother,” who
cried a little, and she told my father,
who said that it was “the most absurd
thing he ever heard of,” but made no
serious objection to Dick, “since Lucy
was set on marrying.”
I was of more importance now that I
wore Dick’s ring.
My parents grew used to the thought,
and talked about furnishing a house for
us, and the day was set, at what we con
sidered a cruel distance of time.
And we should have been a common
place couple enough, without any idea
that life might have held anything better
for us, but that an aunt of mine who
lived in a Western town, insisted upon
my paying her a visit, “before,” as she
expressed it, “I tied myself down for
life.”
The result the reader knows.
Captain Duncan had joined the house
party. I had forgotten my duty to Dick
for awhile,and by remembering it at last,
had sent the man I really loved from me,
believing me a heartless flirt.
The cry I gave when I fainted,brought
some one to my aid.
They talked about the heat, and the
delicacy of New England girls, and I
was put to bed by my aunt and cousins.
The next day I was ill, and it made
me no better to hear that Captain Dun
can and the other officers in town had
gone to the fort, expecting trouble with
the Indians.
There are more anxious hearts in the
house—for two of my cousins were en
gaged to officers—when we heard that
the fighting had begun. But happily no
bad news came to Flora or Helen; and
one day two happy girls came dancing
into the house with letters in their hands.
The trouble was over for the time, and
their promised husbands had written to
them.
“Here is a postscript that I did not
notice,” said Flora, after reading hers
three times. “Oh, how dreadfull Cap
tain Duncan is killed, and Jack says that
if he had wished to throw his life away,
he could not have acted more recklessly.
Every one loved him. The mourning at
the fort is general—”
“Lucy is going to faint again!” my
aunt cried, running to me. But I did
not faint; I only wept bitterly. And
no one wondered. Even an engaged
girl might weep for so gallant a soldier.
“And so devoted as he was to you,
Lucy,” Flora said. “If it had not been
for Dick, I used to think something
might come of it.”
Little they knew what had come of it,
or what an aching heart I carried home
with mo.
“I’m ashamed that you should go to
them looking like that,” my aunt said,
as we parted. “Dick will never forgive
me. I suppose our air is too strong for
you.”
‘ l Oh, once she gets to Dick, she’ll be
all right,” my Cousin Flora cried.
So they jested; but I knew that though
I should keep my secret to myself and
marry Dick when the time came, I should
never be “all right” again—never the
happy girl I used to be.
“Oh,” I sighed a thousand times upon
the weary journey home, “oh, if he had
but known that I loved him, if he had
not died, believing me a heartless, cruel
flirt, I could bear it then, and wait to
meet him in heaven.”
But still amidst my sufferings, I vowed
that Dick should never know that my
heart had for a moment swerved from
him. I had done harm enough already.
They did not expect me home so soon,
and no carriage waited at the station for
me, and it seemed to me that it would
be a relief to walk, and the shortest and
pleasantest way was, after one had gone
a block or two, to strike across a park
which was used by all the place for fes
tivals and picnics, and by the children
for a playground. But now it was
autumn, and quite cold, and late in the
afternoon and it surprised me a little as
I reached the heart of the wood, to see
two people sitting in lover-like fashion
upon a bench that stood there. As I
stood still, curiously shy about passing
them, as people often grow in moments
of great depression, I recognized them.
One was Lilly Bell, the beauty of the
town; the other, Richard Gardner, my
betrothed husband. The wind swept
their voices toward me.
“I am the most miserable man alive,”
I heard Richard say. “I will keep my
promise to her, of course, but I can
never love her. I thought I did until I
knew you, but it was merely a boy’s
fancy.”
“You ought not to talk so, Mr. Gard
ner,” Lilly answered. “She is awfully
nice.”
“Yes—a good girl, and true to me, or
I would not make the sacrifice,” Richard
answered. “As for you, you do not
care, I know that.”
“I must not care,” Lilly answered.
“We have been foolish, I knew you were
engaged ’’ her voice trembled—she
paused.
As for me, 1 felt no anger, only a
strange pity for them and for myself, and
for all lovers. I allowed impulse to guide
me, and the next instant stood behind
them, a hand on the shoulder of cither.
“Dick,” I said, “I have heard every
word, and I am glad I have, for I am as
weary of our engagement as you can pos
sibly be, and if you will take this ring
from me and put it on Lilly Bell’s finger,
you will lift a load from my heart.”
I drew off my glove as I spoke and
placed the ring in his palm. He only
said: “Oh, Lucy!” but he saw in my
face that I spoke the truth, and I walked
away and left them to do as they pleased.
But once out of sight I cried a little;
it was so strange to find that I was not
necessary to Dick, so tragic to know that
I had refused the man I loved in order
to keep my promise to one whom it had
grown to be a hated chain. In my de
pression it almost seemed possible that I
might reach home to find that no one
there wanted me. However, that was
not so, as I knew when the cry went up
and down the house of “Lucy has come!”
and they held me in their arms and
kissed me and wondered at my paleness,
and bethought them how to make me
rosy again.
Yes, they loved me at home. Still I
felt ro changed, so spoiled somehow, so
different from the Lucy who had gone
away, that I burst out sobbing again,
frightening them all, and mortifying
myself, for I knew that when they knew
all was over between Dick and me, they
would think that I was wretched about
that, and I was trying to calm myself
when a servant entered.
“A telegram for you. Miss Lucy,” she
said.
At the words my heart stood still.
What I expected, Ido not know, but I
snatched it from her hand, and while
my mother signed the messenger’s little
book, tore open the envelope and read
these words:
“So glad. Know you will be; must tele
graph. Captain Duncan living. Wounded,
will recover. Love. Auntie?’
I burst into tears again, but this time
for joy, for he was living and I free,
and of one who loved me so well I need
have no fear. And I would write him
the very truth and let what would come
of it.
And what has come, dear reader, is
our wedding day, for he answered the
letter that I wiote in person, and to
morrow I return to Fort Bennet, proud
and happy to be a soldier’s wife, and
Lilly, I am glad to say, has married
Dick.— Wew York Weekly.
Cure for Insomnia.
It has been found in most cases that
insomnia is caused by disordered stom
ach. Between the stomach and the
brain there is a close communion, and,
when one is out of order, the other is not
only apt, but sure to be. Worry will
unsettle the stomach, as indigestion will
inflate the blood vessels of the brain.
Recognizing this, medical men are now
ordering the use of hot water internally
and externally. Before going to bed,
the person so afflicted should bathe the
lower limbs in hot water—as hot as pos
sible. This is for the purpose of draw
ing the blood from the head, for when
the blood vessels are inflated they press
against the skull, and fears, apprehen
sions, and a dread of going to sleep re
sult. But with the hot-water application,
the blood is circulated and the pressure
relieved. Next the sleepless one is ad
vised to drink hot water, with the juice
of a lemon or a little table salt added.
This will settle the stomach and distrib
bute the gases. There will, of course,
come times when the het water will not
have the desired effect, or it may be slow
in its curative effects. But do not be
impatient if it will not put you to sleep
to-night, though it did last night. Per
sist in the application, and as the pre
scription contains no “deadly drugs” you
can afford to wait, for by so doing a per
manent cure is sure to follow—Argo
naut.
Europe’s Greatest Restaurant.
“The Chaumiere,” Moscow, Russia,
is the most luxurious and elegantly ap
pointed restaurant in Europe. The large
dining-hall is a huge winter garden, with
feathery and blooming mimosa as a back
ground for the exquisitely served tables.
In the middle of this unique restaurant
garden is a great marble fountain where
in trout and other delicately flavored
members ol the finny tribe swim in deep,
clear water. When a guest orders a fish
for his dinner, he is forthwith conducted
by the head-butler to this novel aquarium
and is requested to select the fish most
likely to tempt his fancy. A long-handled
silk net is then given to him, and be can,
if he pleases, catch his fish with sports
man-like zest and dexterity, a teat which
materially adds to his enjoyment and
general appreciation of th^ dinner he is
about to eat. Russians, who are very
fond of flowers, do not relish a repast
when the table is not one mass of fra
grant blossoms, and nowhere else in
Europe does one see such gorgeous table
decorations as in St. Petersburg or Mos
cow. Thousands of rubles are often spent
for rare orchids to adorn, the board of
some wealthy boyard, and at the dinner
given some time ago by Prince Narish
kine to the diplomatic corps at St.
Petersburg, the flowers in the dining
hall cost over $18,000.— Argonaut.
Growth of the Hair After Death.
The body of E. M. Haskell, who has
been dead for over twenty years, was re
cently removed from his grave, at North
field, Minn., it being purposed to put
the body in another lot. When his body
was exposed it was found that he had a
beard over twenty-three inches long.
His wife said that before he died he had
been shaven, and all his hair must have
grown after burial.— Scientific American.
A $3,000,000 hotel about to be built
in New York City will have 600 living
rooms and 265 bath-xooms.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Pride requires very costly food—dts
keeper’s happiness.
Pleasing in company is the only way
of being pleased in it yourself.
A miser grows rich by seeming poor;
an extravagant man grows poor by seem
ing rich.
Make but few explanations; the char
acter that cannot defend itself is not
worth vindicating.
With a modicum of clothing and a
maximum of freedom, air and sunlight,
children are as gods.
The creed of happiness is not the only
one which a polite legislation has decreed
should be written on greenbacks.
George Eliot says: “No disposition
is a security from evil wishes to a nan
whose happiness hangs on duplicity.”
The attempted reformation of an ideal
is as hopeless a task as au attempt to re
arrange the rainbow colors of a soap
buble.
If thou doest love thy frend wet
enough to forego his friendship for sake
of his larger perfecting, make known
to him his faults.
The most quietly entertaining people
are those who speak a variety of truth
without intending it and are fantastically
witty without knowing it.
Do not expect commercial payment
for the real benefits you may render to
others. Doing good is the surest way
of enriching and ennobling character.
If that volatile essence which is senti
ment in youth be not crystallized intc
principle at maturity the chances art
that its vapor will have passed beyond
the horizon and sunset.
Good intentions are at least the seed
of good actions; and every man ought
to sow them, and leave it to the soil and
seasons whether they come up our no,
or whether he or any other gathers the
fruit.
Men may as well expect to grow
stronger by always eating, as wiser by
always reading, Too much overcharges
nature, and turns more into disease than
nourishment. It is thought, which is
mental digestion, which makes books
serviceable, and gives health and vigor
to the mind.
Smokeless Powder In Warfare.
Captain Benson, in discussing the
probabilities regarding the effect of
smokeless powder on the tactical opera
tions of the future, says that infantrj
will gain by increased facilities for fire
discipline and control, improved shoot
ing, non-betrayal of the presence ol
skirmishers in broken ground, of sen
tries on outpost duty and of the firing
line of defense, as well as by the facili
ties for combined action, while on the
other hand there will be greater expo
sure. Deployment will take place farther
from the enemy, and the defense will
gain in frontal attack over open ground.
Captain Benson finds many advantages
in smokeless powder for the artillery
and machine guns, remarking only that
changes of positions will be more open
to view and that it will be difficult to de
tect individual skirmishers advancing
over cramped ground and picking off
gunners. Reconnaissance will beeome
more difficult, and probably it will be
necessary to add to the offensive power
of cavalry. With regard to machine guns,
it is probable that though they seem
destined to play a great part, they will
not abate by one jot the importance of
artillery. The weight of argument is
against the use of quick firing guns for
a field army. Captain Benson urges a
higher standard of training than has
heretofore been obtained. Armies can
not now be raised to the necessary stand
ard by a few months’ drill as they once
could, and Captain Benson is of opinion
that “the smaller highly trained force
will be able to beat those larger masses
of men whose training and discipline
have became rusty, in the future as in
the past.”— Chicago Newt.
The Cat Breeders’ Society.
The Boston Cat Breeders’ Associatioi
is the latest addition to the almost count
lessmumber of clubs and associations and
institutions which have their headquart
ers in Boston. It is not really a charit
able association, yet its aims and pur
poses are most praiseworthy. An exhi
bition of the new association was open in
a small hall at 131 Tremont street, and
the crush was so great some of the time
that it was necessary to close the doors
until those inside were willing to make
room for others. Naturally the great
proportion of the spectators were women.
There have been cat shows there is
previous years, but none ever aroused as
much interest as the last one. The most
interesting cat in the exhibition was the
famous trick cat, “Muffins,” owned by
L. A. Deßibas, of Boston. This cat is
a natural born actor, and will enter into
the sport with as much zest and under
standing of what is wanted as though he
were human. He is three years old, and
from a kitten has shown a remarkable
intelligence. Aside from his histrionic
ability, this cat does innumerable tricks.
He will swing on a trapeze, jump over a
bar or roll over at command. He will
jump over a paper covered hoop and also
through fire encircled hoops. He shakes
hands, walks on his hind legs and catches
a ball with certainty. Two prizes were
offered in each class—the first a silver
cup, the second a medal. The cat which
was declared to be the best of all won for
its mistress a handsome gold watch.—
Chicago Herald.
Si.oo A YEAR.
ALASKA.
Ice-built, ice-bound and let bounded—*
Such cold seas of silence! such room!
Such snow-light! such sea-ligbt confounded
With thunders that smite as of doom!
Such grandeur!such glory, such gloom!
Hear that boom! Hear that deep distant
boom!
Os an avalanche hurled
Down t his unfinished world I
Ice-seas! and ice-summits! ice-spaces x
In splendor of white, as God’s thronel ’
Ice-worlds to the pole! and ice-places
Untracked, and unarmed, and unknown!
Hear that boom! Hear the grinding, the
groan
Os the ice-gods in pain! Hear the moan
Os yon ice-mountain hurled
Down this unfinished world!
—Joaquin Miller, in Northwest Magazine.
PITH AND POINT.
The forger frequently gives a bank a
bad name.— PittAwrg Dispatch.
Jagson thinks that half a loaf is better
than no vacation.— Borton Lieraid.
The man who thinks the boy who lives
next door to him is a good boy has not
yet been found.— Texat Siftings.
A man is obliged to die before his will
amounts to anything, but that of a woman
is always in force.— Shenandoah Neat.
“Who ia the author of the saying;
‘There is always room at the topi’ ”
“The hotel clerk, I believe.”— Boston
Gazette.
The diplomat who said that tale-bear
ers could not occupy high places never
saw' a monkey go for a cocoanut tree.—
—Elmira Gazette.
A merchant advertises “good all round
baseballs.” This seems foolish. Base
balls that are not all round are net good
at all.-Wew York Hecorder.
“Excuse me, said Ous de Jay, “I was
wrapt in thought.” “Your own
thought?” asked Miss Sharpton. “Cer
tainly.” “ Were you not afraid of tak
ing cold?”— Washington Port.
If some of our good subscribers don’t
settle up pretty soon we will have to
send out our night collector with his
“jimmy.” A word to the wise should
be sufficient.— Prison Mirror.
Hicke—“lt’s too bad we are not a
family of Esquimaux.” Mrs. Hicks—
“ How would that benefit us any?” Hicks
—“Johnny furnishes blubber enough for
the whole family.”— Neto York JleraH.
Hicks—“ See here, waiter, it’s an hour
since I ordered my lunch, and it hasn’t
come yet. I can't afford to sit here all
day.” Waiter—“ That’s all right, sir.
We never charges no rent for our tables,
sir.”— Harper'B Bazar.
Question for Philologists to Decide:
“Now, Willie,” said the Boston boy’s
new governess, “let me hear you spell
participants.” “P-a-r-t-i-c-i-p-a— 1
say, miss, oughtn’t you to say partici
trousers'?”— Washington Port.
“1 am truly sorry, Johnny,” said the
friend of the family, meeting the little
boy on the street, “to learn that your
father’s house was burned down yester
day. Was nothing saved?” “Don’t you
waste no grief on me,” replied Johnny.
“All of paw's old clothes were burned
up in that fire, and maw can’t make any
of ’em over for me this time. I’m aU
right.”— Troy Press.
A Mad Sculptar’s Wonderful Work.
When the young sculptor, John B.
Leoni, during a fit of temporary insanity,
was held in waiting at the Burlington
(N. J.) Jail pending the results of in
quiries as to his identity, he obtained
possession of a common bar of washing
soap and proceeded to astonish the jail
ers. With the nail of his index finder
he began to dexterously carve the soap
into the shape of the “human form di
vine,” and within an incredible short
time, considering the magnitude of the
undertaking and the unbalanced condi
tion of his mind, had produced a won
derful model of an Alpine hunter. The
figure, which is now carefully treasured,
is said to be equal to anything ever exe
cuted by either Mercou or Vidouquet.
It represents a man with his right arm
outstretched, the fingers of the band en
circling the neck of a duck, which is as
carefully reproduced and as true to r»-
ture as the figure of the hunter. The
left hand hangs by the hunter’s aide,
holding a shotgun, while at his feet lies
the figure of a dog wistfully gazing al
the game his master holds aloft. Taken
all in all it is a most remarkable work of
art.— St. Louie Republic.
An Old Timepiece.
As a reporter of this paper was making
his rounds on the South Side this morn
ing his attention was attracted to an odd
piece of fui ni ure setting on the front
porch of G. T. Alger's residence, on
Union street. Upon investigation we
found it to be a clock, which has been
in constant use for over 250 years. It
was brought to this country from Ger
many by Mr. Micwcenger, and has been
in that family ever since. It is the prop
erty of Mrs. Raymond, the grandmother
of Mrs. Alger. It standi about eight
feet high, encased in mahogany, and ma
very pretty piece of furniture. It still
keeps excellent time, and could not be
bought at any price. It is certainly *
curiosity in the way of a relic.— llmndal
{Mo.) Courier-Poti.
Omaha, Neb., has been selected as the
place of meeting of the Methodist Epis
copal general conference of 1892.