Newspaper Page Text
The mineral, coal and iron interests In
the Southern States are reviving some-
what from the depression of 1891, and
this means better business for the rail¬
roads.
Not content with planning an under¬
ground railway, one of Berlin’s civil
engineers plans underground streets.
They are to be covered with a close grat¬
ing of steel, well supported, which
admits air, light and rain, and over
which the usual street traffic is carried
on.
A company, backed by Eastern cap¬
italists, has been incorporated in Chi¬
cago, Ill., for the manufacture of Ameri¬
can flax. The capital stock is $2,000,000.
Speaking for the new company its attor¬
ney said “At present nearly all the flax
used in this country is imported. This
company has experimented to its own
satisfaction that it can manufacture the
American article much cheaper than it
can be imported, and, at the same time,
furnish as good an article as that made
in foreign countries.”
The gross receipts of the Philadelphia
and Reading system will hereafter be
$80,000,000 annually, and the number
of its employes will approximate 100,-
000, being more than are employed by
any single corporation on this planet.
The acquirement of the Poughkeepsie
Bridge and the lines tributary thereto
throws the Reading and its entire aug¬
mented system into the very heart of
New England, giving it the only all-rail
route from the Middle and Southern
States to the East, with connections
with all important New England roads,
and enabling it to virtually control the
coal traffic of that entire region.
The Boston Transcript says: The
decision of the Supreme Court that the
“habitual criminal” act is constitutional
is a gratifying one. The act provides
that on conviction of a third felony a
person may be sentenced to the State
Prison for twenty- five years. The prin¬
cipal which underlies this legislation is
a sound one. The man who proposes to
live by proving upon the community has
no right to live in the community.
This is one of the propositions which
prison reformers long ago laid down,
and in securing the passage of the law,
which the court now sustains, they have
done ths community a great service. .
Asafoetida as a cure for “grip” has
been ridiculed by a great many physi¬
cians, but most of them admit, adds the
New York Post, that they have never
prescribed it. In the West asafoetida in
pills of four grains has been tried with
gratifying results. Quick recoveries are
reported in nearly every instance, with¬
out the usual sequel of debility. In
Louisville alone 20,000 of the pills were
sold in one day recently. No bad effects
can follow the use of asafoetida, for of
all things it is a sedative. In Asiatic
countries it is employed as a condiment,
but this is a use to which few persons
will ctre to put it. Many old people in
the West who were far gone with the
disease have, it is asserted, been cured
by the asafoetida pills. They should be
taken, according to their admirers, three
times a day with a glass of water, and
taken in this way are warranted not to
taint the breath.
Occasionally, something turns up to
prove, remarks the Boston Transcript,
that some of our homelier methods in
therapeutics, “old women’s remedies,”
as the doctor's sneeringly call them, are
found to be reasonably scientific after
all. Lately, for instance, an expert, who
has been experimenting in M. Pasteur's
laboiatory, h«xs discovered that no living
disease germ can resist for more than a
few hours the antiseptic power of essence
of cinnamon, which seems to be no less
effective in destroying microbes than is
corrosive sublimate. Its scent will kill
them. A decoction of cinnamon is rec-
omended for influenza cases, typhoid
fever and cholera. Perhaps some of us
can remember when elderly ladies used
to carry in their wonderful pockets, the
capacity of which was enormous, bits of
cinnamon or other pungent and fragrant
*pice, the odor of which would betray
their coming many feet away. Whether
it was carried as a preventive or merely
for the satisfaction of having something
to nibble was not revealed to us youngs-
sters of those days. Peppermint candy
was always a recognized stimulant
against attacks of somnolence at sermon
time at church.
EVERY DA.Y.
And the tumult of the street
And ceaseless tread of restless feet|
What varied human forms we meet;
Every day.
Borne burdened with unwhispered woe;
Sad secrets God alone can know;
W e sea them wandering to and fro,
Every day.
Some seared by time’s decay or blight;
With furrowed brow and fading sight,
Who haunt our feet from morn ’till night,
Every day.
Pome swayed by passion deep and strong,
Enkindled by some burning wrong,
Unheeded by the listless throng,
Every day.
The lust of power, the greed for gain,
Twin tyrants of the heart and brain;
We see the ruin of their reign,
Every day.
The . y ghouls that throng the street,
Wearing the garments of deceit;
Who breathe to lie and live to cheat;
Every day.
And some aspiring to be great.
With beaming eye and heart elate,
Scorning the thorny thrusts of fate,
Every day.
The youth enthralled by some fond dream.
Or borne along on fancy’s stream,
Believing all things what they seem,
Every day.
The aged tottering toward the tomb,
No light to lift their rayless gloom.
Nor hope their weary way illume.
Every day.
The rich and poor, the old and young,
With silent lip or fluent tongue,
And griefs untold or joys unsung,
Every day.
Thus in the drama of the town,
Some bear a cross or wear a crown
Until death rings the curtain down,
Every day.
•—D. B. Sickels, in New York Prc 3 S.
SARAH, )
EY LUCY C. LILLIE.
ml URRIEDLY Sarah
Molyneux crossed the
m?j hall of her aunt’s
m house i n Cheltster and
wffl stood irresolutely for
mm Jjf a moment at the head
of the old-fashioned
staircase. Her hand
Sv^moved —'ously a little the balus¬ neiv-
on
trade, and the line between her delicate
dark brows deepened. with—or needn’t
“If it were only over
be at all,” she reflected. But there was
Eo way to avoid the unpleasant task
ahead of her, and accordingly Sarah
passed down the stairs and into the
square parlor over-looking the garden.
In about half an hour old Mrs. Thorpe
in her room upstairs heard the front door
close, and a quick step go down the
garden pathway. Presently Sarah came
back.
The old lady was popped up in bed
and turned & pair of very bright, clear
eyes upon her niece as she entered the
room.
“Well,” Mrs. Thorpe exclaimed with
impatience. “Sit right down and tell
me all about it. And don’t oblige me
to ask too many questions. You know
how I hate to have to wring anything
out of you.
Sarah laughed. “I’ll do my best,
Aunt Polly,” she answered, sitting down
in the window and looking with .gentle
indulgence at the old lady. “I suppose
I must begin at the beginning. I found
Mr. Morison, of course,in the parlor and
he fairly jumped at the business ques¬
tion.”
“Humph, wbat’d he say?”
“Said that he would not think of dis¬
turbing you while you were ill but that
it was very important for him to know
when he could take possession of the
house. He intends putting up the fac¬
tory at once, he says. He observed that
Mr. Beecham had explained how fond we
were of the old house and all that, but
of course we could hardly expect him to
be sentimental in a business matter.”
“Did be talk like that right to your
face, Sarah Molyneux?”
“l r es,Aunt—-I can’t say—well it didn’t
sound quite so bold; but those were his
words.”
“Who does he favor in looks—the
Turners, I guess.” Mrs. Thorpe leaned
back and closed her eyes a moment, vis-
ions of the high cheek bones and promi-
nent noses of the Turners floating before
her. Sarah thought of them too.sharply
in contrast with the looks of her recent
guest. “He’s not bit like the Turners,”
a
she said, presently. “I don’t know the
Mirisons much,” she added. “Let me
see—he is not very tall—rather slight
but looks strong and has a clean-shaven
dark face.”
“Handsome?” Mrs. Thorpe’s eyes
opened for an instant.
“Oh, no—not at all—oh no, not the
least bit handsome; but be has a quick,
bright sort of look.”
“So he’s going to put up a factory—
dear,dear—1 did not think—but well no
—ot course the property’s his since your
uncle Ezra left it to him by'will—I never
thought Ezra’d do it. Always took for
granted he meant it should be mine out-
right and—after letting me live here
forty years.”
“I said something of the kind to Mr.
Morison. He’s coming back this even-
uyj.”
“What for; he isn’t going to build to¬
night, is he?”
“Oh, no. He wanted to see the gar¬
den very particularly.” it clear I want the
“Well, you make
plants.” paid
When the objectionable guest had
his second visit, Sarah came back to her
aunt’s room looking very much dis¬
couraged. demanded the old
“Well, what now?”
lady with a scorn. gardens
“He says we can’t have those
disturbed, Aunt Polly,” said Sarah, sit¬
ting down dejectedly. “I took him
down to the arbor, and we had a very
nice talk at first. I really almost liked
him. We began about country life, and
he told me how much he had longed for
a real country home—a place something
like this, he said—then he asked who
took care of the garden, and I told him
I was your gardner, and how much we
both loved the flowers. I showed him
the tree planted when I was a baby, and
then the rosebud for my tenth birthday;
and he said that he should think we’d
hate to leave it all—then I explained you
wanted the plauts; but he 3aid oh, no!
they were part of the property.” and
“Turner straight through
through,” declared the old lady.
“Grasping all they can get. I will have
the plants, though, I guess Ezra’s will
had nothing to say to them.”
“I could scarcely be civil after that,”
pursued Sarah, her face flushing in the
dusk. I changed the subject, and asked
him how nearly he was related to the
Turners; but he said it was very distant.
He told me where be lived as a boy. It
seems his father had a paper in some
country village—Saul—I think he called
it, and he was a very visionary, unprac¬
tical, enthusiastic kind of man. I guess
he didn't provide much for the family.
Anyway Mr. Morison says he started out
young in life to carve his own future,
and he has been quite successful—only
he intends to be thoroughly so, he says,
if possible.” Humph!”
“By way of my garden. likes
“He says he enjoys obstacles. He
something to conquer. I told him I had
no fancy for battlefields; he said a skir¬
mish was as good as success to him. Oh,
Aunt, by the way, do I look like the
Turners?”
“Well, some,” said the old lady, re¬
luctantly. Sarah crossed the room and
in the faint light regarded her mirror. face at¬ It
tentively in the long, narrow
was a thin, clear-cut face, rather shadowy
as to what might or might not be its
owner’s strong or weak points; the face
of a girl to whom events or emergencies
were unknown. Life had written al¬
most nothing upon it that gave it charm,
and the eyes were a pretty hazel with
black lashes and delicate brows.
“The Hatfield Turners,” pursued the
old lady, as Sarah sat down again.
“You do look some like them. Why?”
“Oh, Mr. Morison said I had a Turner
look,” the girl answered. “He tried to
make out we are cousins.”
“ Well you are—twice removed. His
mother’s your cousin, I think.”
“I must ask him. He’ll lie back in
the morning, he says.”
Well, I declare to gracious the man
means to force me out of this bed, I be¬
lieve. Sarah, you must speak up and
not let him impose upon you.”
About eleven o’clock the next morning
very unusual sounds floated up to the
old lady from the parlor where Mr.
Morison was again “interviewing” Sarah.
Some one was playing on the old piano;
then a man’s voice, a clear fine tenor,
could be heard. The song was one the
old lady remembered in her youth—
“Phyllis is nay only love”—and her
withered cheek flushed with pleasure.
“Sarah,” she said, directly her niece ap¬
peared, “did you ask that young man
to sing? 1 want you should inquire if
he knows another piece like that.”
Sarah’s eyes were very soft and
bright.
“Aunt,” she said eagerly, “would it
look bold if I sang a duet with Mr.
Morison? He’s coming back this after¬
noon.”
“What’ll you sing? You don’t know
what you're talking about, Sarah.”
“Does he think the piano’s his?” de¬
manded the old lady with a sudden re¬
turn of severity. Saiah looked miser¬
able.
“He says it is Aunt,” she admitted,
There was an ominous silence; then
Mrs. Thorpe closed her eyes again.
“Well, it was Ezra’s,” she admitted.
It was with mingled feelings that she
listened that afternoon to the singing
from below. Love of music compelled
her to enjoy keenly the way in which
Sarah and the audacious Mr. Morison
sang ‘‘I would that my love” and “Oh,
wert thou in the cauld blast.” While
resentment against what she felt an un-
just will, depriving her and her niece of
her cherished home, made her consider
everything done or said by Mr. Morison
objectionab.e, yet somehow she found
herself looking forward eagerly to her
niece’s next report of their unbidden
guest.
“He is going to be married soon,
Aunt Polly,” Sarah related. “Perhaps
that i9 why he is in such a hurry about
the house. He’s been telling me about
the young lady.”
“Well, upon my soul. Seems to me
he’s very free with his confidences. Mar-
ried? What’d he say about her?”
“Oh, I don’t know exactly,” said
Sarah; “he said she was the kind of girl
I’d get along quickly with; it seems, ever
so long ago he made up his mind never
to marry any one but her.”
“Well, and were there any of those
obstacles he talks about!” sniffed the ol4t
lady. he there’s quite
4 ‘Oh, yes. But says a
touch of romance in the whole affair.
He's a very—well, masterful sort of per¬
son, Aunt. I can quite understand
what he means when he says he enjoys
ovei coming difficulties. He isn’t the
sort of person any one could trifle with
easily.” I get around.
“I guess I will when
What with the garden and the pianc
and the dear knows what all—I’ll be
grateful if he leaves us the clothes tG
our backs. What else’d you talk
about?”
“Oh, a great many things. Books
some. He’s fond of German—and, oh,
I meant to tell you, he’s coming to¬
morrow morning and going to read a
little German with me.”
“Well, Sarah, you just seehere. Let
that young man know you’ve something
to do besides fool around with him. I
know; he wants to force me up. I’ll see
Dr. Baker. I guess, before that Tom
Morison gets me out of the house.”
“Oh, Aunt! It’s just because he
wants, he says, to familiarize himself
with the place.” the time there is
“Well, he's got all
after we’re gone. I want you should be
very distant with him—and, Sarah, I
guess you’d better not begin any German
readings.” visit Sarah
During Mr. Morison’s next
appeared in her aunt’s room with a very
anxious expression. withanefforl
“Aunt Polly,” she said,
at composure, “Mr. Morison’s broughl
the German books, and I don’t know
what to say about it—I”—-
“Well, go on,” said the old lady, “1
suppose you’re bent on it any way, and
perhaps he’ll help you some.”
She lay very still when she was alone,
sometimes with her eyes open, but gen¬
erally keeping them closed as pictures
from the past, and visions of whal
might be ahead of her floated through
her brain, and the peculiar cruelty of
her brother's will smote her heart afresh.
When she had been left a widow forty
years ago, Ezra Turner had promptly
bade her stay on in the house which had
seen the happy years of her married life,
and which had been endeared to her by a
hundred different associations; when the
sorrows it had witnessed consecrated the
place almost as tenderly a? its periods ol
joy, while from the time she had brought
her little orphan niece ■ Sarah home, a
new interest was given her life, yet one
inseparably bound up with the old man¬
sion. Ezra’s will fell like a thuuderbolt
upon the old lady and her niece. In¬
deed, there was little question but that
it caused the weak turn which confined
her to her room; and as she lay there
now, faintly conscious of the voices from
below, something like a wish never to
leave the old home save for a final rest¬
ir g place brought a hot moisture into her
eyes. long time before Mr. Mori¬
It seemed a
son went away. When the door had
closed upon him at last Mrs. Thorpe
alert for every sound, heard Sarah lin¬
gering on the stairs. Presently the girl
appeared. Her cheeks were scarlet.
“Well,” demanded the old lady,
“what now?—what new thing’s he going
to claim?”
Sarah’s color now swept all her face.
“Oh, Aunt Polly,” she said, “it’s all
as queer as queer can be. Ob, if you’ll
only let me. Please—oh, Aunt Polly,
it seems Mr. Morison made his mind up
right away, the very first day, he says—
and he never wanted anything so much
before—”
“Sarah Molyneux,” said the old lady,
sitting upright, “what ails you? Speak
English.” him,
“Oh, he’s asked me to marry
Aunt Polly,” said Sarah; “that’s it; and
he says I mustn’t say no—he made all
that up about going to be married—or
rather, he says he was bound to make
me say yes.”
Mrs. Thorpe remained rigid in the
same attitude for a moment without
speaking. Sarah flushed and paled and
flushed again.
“What’d you tell him?” at last de¬
manded the old lady, with an accent of
fine scorn. She was very proud ol
Sarah’s conquest. She knew all about
young Morison, and was well aware how
highly he was esteemed. . 3?
“Oh—he say it’s settled,” observed
Sarah; “and of course--he was only
going on, he says, to try me about the
factory aud the garden and the piano;
he says, bless your heart and he wouldn’t
take a thing belonging to you more’n
he’d steal.”
“Only—my girl.” said Mrs. Thorpe,
grimly. But when Sarah bent to kiss
her there was the kind of tenderness in
the old woman’s embrace that the girl
remembered only when she was a little
child.—The Independent.
Some Use for the Sparrow.
Within the past few days Harry T.
Scoville,of the Western Union Telegraph
Company, has gained quite a reputation
as a sparrow exterminator. At one time
he ran what was known as a school for
rifle practice, and those who are ac¬
quainted with him are aware that he is a
splendid shot. He has been using an
air-gun on the birds and in three or four
nights has killed over 500 by actual
count. He says they make splendid eat¬
ing. He strings them on a wire, which
he places before the fire in the engine-
rooms, and they are cooked so as to make
a savory bite.—Cincinnati Enquirer.
The brilliant mischief of one’s own
children is outright crime in the children
of the neighbors.—Galveston News.
THE OLD SPINET,
Within an upper room it stands, '
A garret corner grim and gray
Where spiders spin tfteir silken stramfc
Molested by no sunlight ray. Hj [ j
Yet dames and damsels, I dare 83 y * f
Have loved its music; to and fro
Their lily hands were wont to stray
On that old spinet, years ago.
I often fancy ghostly bauds
A stately minuet essay
At dead of night, while unseen hands H
Their long-forgotten skill display. B
The little children—where are they?
For many must have danced, I know, *
To measures fanciful and gay
From that old spinet, years ago.
Some cavalier of other lands
To it once sang his roundelay,
Regardless of the reprimands
Of her whose heart he longed to
Or some despairing genius may
Have made it sharer of his woe,
And bowed his weary head to pray
Oe’r that old spinet, years ago.
Behold it still resists decay.
There’s music in it still, although ™
The hands are dust that used to play
On that old spinet, years ago.
HUMOR OF THE DAY. ;
Sometimes it pays to walk. Ohio ]
a tramp who is worth $300,000.—Was
ington Post.
Some people talk about turning thii
over in their minds as if their heads w
hollow\—Galveston News.
Perhaps it is too much to expect
the man who use3 big words should
nish big ideas along with them.—So
ville Journal.
“Your bill,” said the tailor, “is repli|
due.” “That’s bad English,”
the customer, “you should say o
dun.”—New York Sun.
“Were you ever in a dissecting roo
Dickey?” “No, but I’ve seen our fooH
Splitthumb after he’s been playing
ball.”—St. Joseph News.
Gentlemen about to be hanged
pleased to learn, on expert medical
thority, that a discolation of the
not fatal.—Chicago News.
New York and Chicago should
build a tower so high as to enable theH
to see when they are making faces
each other.—Courier-Journal.
A woman is never known to
for the return of stolen property
no questions asked.” She would
questions or die—Texas Siftings.
“Did her father kick you out?”
he missed me, lost bis balance, fell
his face,and I carried him into
and was forgiven.”—Harper’s Bazar.
“What though I love the ground she tr
’Tis valueless to me;
For I have found the man she weds,
Must pay the mortgagee.
—Trutl
Jeweler—“I tell you pawnbroking
an obnoxious business.” Friend—“P
haps, but you cannot deny that it 1
some redeeming features.”—Jewele
Circular.
Bilkins—“How de do? Had the gi
yet?” Wilkins—“No.” Bilkins—“f
sorry for you, old fellow. What i
earth do you talk about when you mi
people?”
Judge—“If I let you off this time s
you promise not to come back hi
again?” Prisoner—“Yes, sir. Tbefi
is I didn’t come voluntarily this timf
—Boston Post.
Station Agent in Africa (on the
—“Great Scott! where is the
I don’t see him.”
first class passengers got hungry and
him up.”—Texas Siftings.
Miss Von Gimp—“I wouldn’t ma
the best man living.” Dr. Perkins-B
“No—ah—er—perhaps not, but—
that is really no obstacle to your
with me.”—St. Paul Globe.
One reason why the children
years ago were so much better
than those of to-day is that the
who tell about it were children
years ago.—Atchison Globe. I
Young Officer of Hussars (in the park
—“I apologize, madam, forpassing
just now without salutation, but you
so charming to-day that I positively
not recognize you!”—Fiiegeude
The latest problem Dr. William
Hammond takes up for discussion
“Have we two brains?” He could
fort some folks immensely by
fifty per cent, of
Ledger.
Mrs. Gofrequent—“How quickly
husband has climbed to success in his
ness.” Mrs. Reelus Tate—“Y'es.
had to climb. I’ve often heard him
he got it on the ground
Tribune.
“You have the toothache, dear?
is too bad. What caused it?”
think,” answered the Philadelp
maiden, “that it came from leaving®
gums at home when I went down town.
—Indianapolis Journal.
Bjones—“I waut you to subset
something toward sending an expedite
to discover the North Pole.” Bjenks-
“Not much i But I suppose I shall haf
to subscribe something toward sendini
out the rescuing party.”—Somerviii
Journal.
To much has been said in dispraise tbi «
the piano. Now, a piano is not
nuisance it has been charged with being-
Just lock it up and throw away the
and it will be found as innocent as M
campaign utterances of a profession#
politician a mouth after election.—
ton Transcript.