The Wahpeton times. [volume], June 26, 1890, Image 5

About The Wahpeton times. [volume] (Wahpeton, Richland County, Dakota [N.D.]) 1879-1919

Image provided by: State Historical Society of North Dakota

                
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This Was the Text for an
Eloquent Sermon by
l)r. Talmage.
Based Upon the Old but Ever
New Parable of the
Prodigal Son.
BROOKLYN, 8pecial.—Dr. Talmage'a ser
2L
140,1
'or
to
dfty'"on
4bto
prodigal aon, aud
text, Luke xv.. 20: "When he was yet a
If eat way off, his father daw him, and had
-compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck,
and kissed him." Polio wing Is the sermon:
One of the deepest wells that inspiration
ever opened in this well of a parable which we
can never exhaust. The parable, I suppose,
was founded on facts. I have described to you
the going away of this prodigal son from
his father's house, and I have showed ,vou
what a hard time he had down in the wilder
ness, and what a very great mistake it was
lor him to leave 60 beautiful a home for such
ft miserable desert. But he did not always
stay in the wilderness he came back after
awhile. We do not read that his mother
came to greet him. I suppose she was dead.
She would have been the first to come out.
The father would have given the second kiss
to the returning prodigal the mother the
Ant. It may have been for the lack of her
example and prayers that he became a prod
igal. Sometimes the father does not know
how to manage the children of the house
hold. The chief work comes upon the mother.
Indeed, no one ever gets over the calamity
of losing a mother in enrly life. Still, this
young man was not ungreeted when he came
back.
However well apparelled we may be in the
morning when we start out on a journey, be
fore night, what with the dust and the jos
tling, we have lost all cleanliness of appear
,ance. But this prodigal, when he btarted
from the swine trough, was ragged and
wretched, and his appearance, after he had
gone through days ol journeying and expos
ure, you can more easily imagine than de
scribe. As the people see this prodigal com
ing on homeward, they wonder who he is.
They say: "I wonder what prison he has
broken out of. I wonder what lazaretto he
has escaped from. I wonder with what
plague he will smite theair." Although these
people may have been well acquainted with
the family, yet they do not imagine that this
is the very youag man who went off only a
little while ago with quick step, and ruddy
cheek, and beautiful apparel. The young
man, I think, walks very fast. He looks as
though he were intent upon something very
important. The people stop. They look at
him. They wonder where he came from.
They wonuer where he is going to.
You have heard of a
Bon
who went off to
sea that never returned. All the people in
the neighborhood thought the son would
never return, but the parents came to no
•uch conclusion. They would go by the hour,
and day, and sit upon the beach, looking off
upon the water, expecting tosee the Bail that
would bring home thelong absent boy. And
•o I think this father of my text sat under
the vine looking out toward the road on
which his son bad departed but the father
has changed very much since wesaw him last,
fiie hair hue beeome white, his etieeks are
farrowed, his heart is broken. What is all
his bountilul'table to him when his son may
be lacking bread? What is all the splen
dor of the wardrobe of that homestead when
the son may not have a decent coat? What
are ail the sheep on that hillside to that fa
ther when his pet lamb is gone? Still he sits
and watches, looting out on the roaS,
and
one day le beholds a foot-traveler. He sees
him rise above the hill: first the head and
after a while the entire body and as
soon as he gets a fair glance of him heknows
it is his recreant son. He forgets the
cratch, and the stiffness of the joints,
and bounds away. I think the people all
around were amazed. They said: "It is
only a footpad. It is only some old tramp
of the road. Don't go out to meet him."
The father knew him better.
The change in the son's appearance could
not hide the marks by which the father knew
the boy. You know that persons of a great
deal of independence of character are apt to
indicate it in their walk. For the reason the
sailor most always has a pecnliar step, not
only because he stands much upon ship
board amid the rocking of the sea, and he
has to balance himself, but he has for the
most part an independent character, which
would show in his gait, even if he never went
on^thesea and we knowfrom what transpired
alterward, and from what transpired before,
that this prodigal son was of an independent
and frank nature and I suppose the charac
teristics of his mind nnd heart were the char
acteristics ofhiswalk. And so the father knew
him. He put out his witherd arms toward
him he brings his wrinkled face up against
the pale cheek of his son, ho kisses the
wan lips, he thanks God that the long ago
ny is over. "When he was yet a great way
off, his father saw liim, and had compassion,
and ran and fell on hi»neck and kissed him."
Oh, do you not recognize that Father?
Who was it? It is God! I have no sympathy
with that cast-iron theology which represents
God as hard, severe and vindictivo. God is
Father—kind, losing, lenient, gentle, long
Buffering, patient, and He flies to our im
mortal rescue, Oh, that me might realize it.
A wealthy lady in one of the Eastern coun
tries was going off for some time, and she
asked one of her daughters for some memen
to to curry with iter. One of the daughters
brought a marble tablet, beautifully inscrib
ed and another brought a benutiful wreath
of flowers. The third daughter came and
said: "Mother, I brought neither flowers nor
tablet, but here iB my heart. I have in
scribed it all over with your name, and
wherever you go, it will go with you." The
mother recognizcd it as the best of all the
mementoes. Oh, that our souls might go
out toward our Father—that our hearts
might be written all over with the evidences
of his loving kindness, and that we might
never again forsake Him.
In the first place, I notice in this text the
father's eyesight in the second place, I no
tice the father'sbaste and, in the third place,
I notice the father's kiss.
To begin: the father's eyesight. "When he
was a great way off bis father saw him."
You have noticed how old people some
times put a book off on the other side of the
light. They can see at a distance a great
deal easier thhn they can close by. I do not
know whether this father could see well that
which was near by, but I do know he could
see a great way off. "His father saw him."
Perhaps he had been looking for the return
oi that boy especially that day. I do not
know but that he had been in prayer and
that God had told him that that day the
recreant boy would comehome. "The father
saw him a great way o9."
I wonder if God's eyesight can descry us
when we are coming back to Him? The
text pictures our condition—we area great
way off. That young man was not farther
off from his father's house, sin is not farther
off from holiness, hell is not farther off from
heaven, than we have been by our sins away
off from our God aye, so far off that ws
could bear His voice, though vehemently Hs
has called us year after year. I do not know
what bad habits you have formed, or in
what evil places yon have been, or what falss
notionsyoumay have entertained but you
are ready to acknowledge, if your heart has
not been chanced by the grace of God, that
you area great way off—aye, so far that you
cannot get back of yourselves. You would
like to come back. Aye, this moment you
would start, if it were not fof this sin. and
that habit, aad disadvantage. But I am to
tell you of the Father's eyesight. "He saw
him a great way off." He barf s&en all your
frailities, all your struggles, all your disad
vantages. He has been longing for your
coming. He has not been looking at you
with a critic's eye or a bailiff's eye,
hat with a Father's eye and if a
parent ever pities a child, God pities you.
You say: "Oh, I had so many evil surround
ings when I started life." Your Father sees
it. You say: "I havesomany bad surround
ings now, and it is very difficult for me to
break away from evil associations." Your
Father see* it, and if you shqnjd start
heavenward—as I pray you may-£your fa
ther would not sit idly down and allow
yon to struggle up toward Him. Oh, nol
(toeing yon a great way off, He would fly to
the rescue. How long
doss
it take a father
tolwp intothe hlA wtttls ehildbe thWe,
whlcle Is coming and may de
itrof hia. Five hundred times longer then
it
0,,r
*i«.
heavenly Father to spring to
the deliverance of a lost child. "When be
was a great way off his father saw him."
I,..? ml'
me
noti«®
father's
tef SM Bible says he ran. No wonderl
He did not know but that he would change
.TnA
and
KoJmu*. He did not know
he
*oud down from exhaus
that
something
fatal might overtake him before he got up
the doorslll. and so the father ran.
The Bible, for the most, part, speaks of
®.od *o'kinK- "In the fourth watch, of
the night. It says, "Jesus came nnto them
walking on the sea," "He walketh upon the
wing of the wind." Our first parents heard
Jn® joice of the Lord, walking in the garden
rCO?l
da-v bnt
when a sinner
nui ,1 Father runs to met him.
un! if a man ever wants help, it is when he*
tries to become a Christatn. The world says
to him: Back with you. Have more spirit.
Don be hampered with religion. Time
enough yet. Wait until you get sick. Wait
until you get old." Satan says: "Back with
you you are so bad that God will have noth
ing to do with you:" or "You are good
enough and need no Itedeemer. Take thine
ease, eat, drink and be merry." Ten thou
sand voices say: "Back with you. God is a
hard muster. The church is a collection of
hypocrites. Back into your sins back to
your ovil indulgences back to your praver
less pillow. Tne silliest thing that a man
ever does is to come back ulter ho has been
wandering." Oh, how much help a man
docs want when he tries to become a Chris
tian! Indeed, the prodigal cannot find his
way home to his father's house alone. Un
less some one comes to meet him he had
better have stayed by the swine-troughs.
When the tide comes in, you might more
easily with your broom sweep back the surges
thnn you could drive back the ocean of your
unfortunate transgressions. What are we to
do? Are we to light the battle alone, and
trudge on with no one to aid us, and no rock
to shelter us, and no word o! encouragement
to cheer us? Glory be to God, we have in
the text the announcement: "When he was
yet a great way off. his father ran." When
the sinner starts for God. God starts for the
sinner. God doeB not come out with a slow
hesitating pace. The infinite space slip be
neath His feet, and He takeB worlds at a
bound. "The father ran." Oh, wonderful
meeting, when God and the soul come to
gether. "The father ran." You start for
God and God starts for you, and you meet
nnd while the angels rejoice over the meeting,
your long injured Father falls upon your
neck with attestations of compassion and
pardon. Your poor, wandering, sinful, pol
lutted soul, and the loving, the eternal
tlicr have met.
I remark upon the father's kiss. "He fell
on his neck," my textsays, "and kissed him."
It is not every father that would hnvo done
that. Some would have scolded him, and
said: "Here, you went olT with benutiful
clothes, but now you are all in tatters, l'ou
went off healthy, and come buck sick and
wasted with your dissipations." He did not
say that. The son, all haggard and ragged
and filthy nnd wretched, stood before hie
father. The father charged him with none ol
his wanderings. He just received him. He
just kissed him. His wretchedness was a re
commendation to the father's love. Oh, that
fnther's kiss! How shall I describe the love
of God?—the ardor with which He receives
sinner back again? Give me a plummet with
which I may fathom this sea. Give me a lad
der with which I may scale this height. Give
me words with which 1 can describe this love.
The apostlesaysin one place, "unsearchable
in another, "past finding out." Height over
toppinir all height depth plunging beneath
all depth breadth compassing^all immensity
Oh, this love! God so loved the world. He
loves you. Don't you believe it? Has He
not done everything to make you think so?
He has given youlile, health, friends, home—
the use of your hand, the sight of your eye.
the hearing of your ear. He has strewn
your path with mercies. He has fed you,
clothed you, sheltered you, defended you,
loved you, importuned you all your life long.
Don't you believe He loves you? Why, if now
you should start up from the wilderness ol
your sin, He would throw both arms around
you. To make you believe that he loves
you, He stooped to manger, and cross, and
sepulchre. With all the passions of His hoi/
nature roused, He stand* before yon to-day,
and would coax you to happiness and
heaven. Ob, this father's kiss! There is so
much meaning, and love, and compassion in
it so much pardon in it so much heaven in
it.
I proclaim him tho Lord pod, merciful,
gracious, and long suffering, abundant
in goodness and truth. Lest you wonld not
believe Him, He goes up Golgotha, and
while the rocks are rending, and the
graves are opening, and the mobs are howl
ing, and the sun is biding, Ho dies for you.
See Him! See Him on the Mount of Cruci
fixtion, the sweat on His brow tinged with
the blood exuding from His lacerated tem
ples! See His eyes swimming in death! Hear
the loud breathing of the Sufferer as He pants
with a world on his heart! Hark to the fall
of the blood from brow, and haud, and foot,
on the rocks benenth—dropl drop! drop!
Look at the nails! How wide the wounds
are! Wilder do they gape as His body comes
down upon them. Oh! this crucifixion agony!
Tears melting into tears. Blood flowing in
to blood. Darkness dropping into darkness
Hands of men joined with hands of devils to
tear apart the quivering heart of the Son of
God!
Oh! Will He never speak again! Will that
crimson face never light up again? He will
speak again while the blood is suffuBing His
brow, and reddening His cheek, and gather
ing on nostril and lip, and you think Hn is
exhausted and cannot speak, He cries out
until all the ages hear him "Father,
forgive them, they know not what, they do!"
Is there no emphasis in such a scene as that
to make your dry eyes weep, and your hard
heart break? Will you turn your back upon
it, and say by your actions what the Jews
said by their words: "His blood lie on ns,
and on our children." What does it uil
mean, my brother, my sister? Why, it
means, thnt for our lost race there was a
Father's kiss. Love brought Him down.
Love opened t.he gate. Love led to the sac
rifice. Love shuttered the grave. Love
lifted Him up in resurrection. Sovereign
love! Omnipotent love! Infinite love!
Bleeding lore! Everlasting love!
"Oh, tor this love let rocks and hills
Their lasting silcnce break:
And all harmonious human tongues
The Saviour's praises speak."
Now, will you accept that Father's kiss?
The Holy Spirit comes to you with Hie
arousing, meltine, alarming, inviting, vivi
fying influence. Hearer, what creates in
thee that unrest?
A Rival to the Pedometer.
The pedometer's life of usefulness
seems to be very seriously threaten
ed by a French invention for record
ing speed and. distance traveled by
mad,'beast orvehicle. Theinventor,
E. J. Marey, of the Institute of France,
has devised a very simply machine
to which thenameodographliasbeen
given. It draws or traces a curve on
a traveling band of paper, which is a
register of the speed with which a
person walks or a vehicle moves. The
recording mechanism is not at all
complicated and is not likely to get
out of order. It consists of a cylinder
covered with ruled paper and revoh
ed by clockwork. On this a stylus
actuated by a wheel which traverses
the ground marks the trace, and the
stylus moves at a rate proportional
to the wheel while the paper moves
past it at right angles witn a velocity
proportional to-the time. The slope
of the trace is a record of the speed.
The odograph is capable of being
adapted to special purposes, such as
measuring the speed of soldiers on
the march, the rate that railroad
trains travel, or the time made by
racehorses on the track, and it is
that in the more general use which
promises to be made of this instru
ment it will be found to meet accur
ately numerous purposes for which
some such recorder has been needed.
—New York Timed!
A DENTIST of Kingston, N. Y., re
cently pulled eight of his own teeth.
He says he found it somewhat incon
venient, because he couldn't keep his
head still.
AB HOME.
Ui«M Information for ths Buy Agri
culturiit
Train Tow Colts, tat So Hot Break Than
—IneoeMfnl Ken Come from the Farms—
Diseases in Cereal Crops—Hints for the
Housewife.
Training Colts.
The usefulness of a horse depends
upon its early training. The first part
of this training should be completed
before the colt is a year old. During
ttyls early period its disposition is
formed, and its future character is
fixed. It will be docile, tractable and
gentle, precisely as it has been raised
during the first few months of its life
and whatever vices it may develop in
the future will be due to errors made
now. The education of the young colt
should be such as to teach it subjection
to its owner from the first This is
done by using it tothe halter, to lead,
and to be tied up, and by the gentlest
treatment, firmness, and force gen
tly used if needful, but punish
ment in anger is to be strictly
avoided. If necessary a light touch
may be given with a switch but
never so hard as to be painful. The
whip should be discarded in all cases.
A willful colt may be brought to sub
jection in other ways. It may be
hampered by means of straps and laid
down on a bed of straw, and then
handled gently until all fear is allayed,
and in this manner, it may be taught
that its owner is its master. By and
by it may be used to the bit, to a sad
dle. and to carry light loads on Its
back to carry a child while it is led
and thus to become familiar with its
future work. A small light harness
should be kept where colts are reared,
and a light vehicle of some kind to
which light loads can be drawn as
the young animal is a year old. Pa
tience and judicious teaching are all
that may be necessary to bring the
colt to its business when it is a year
old. Such training displaces the usual
breaking by forcible and cruel treat
ment by which viciousness Is develop
ed and horses are made fearful and are
terror stricken when anything unusual
happens afterwards.
Where Successsul Business Men Come
From.
The remark as been made that it has
frequently been observed that the suc
cessful men of the city are often those
who come to the city from the country,
many of them poor lads, with little
knowledge derived from school studies.
In substantiation of this fact, it is only
necessary to point to the very large
number of successful business men
throughout the country who are now
alive and active, and to the names of
those who have won an honorable posi
tion in the past history of our country.
Our greatest statesmen, lawyers, judges
and financiers have been and are men
who point with pride to their humble
birth amid the green hills and
fertile valleys of N|w England,
where their early education was
obtained by a few weeks or
months schooling each year, and
the remainder of the time spent in de
veloping the brawn and muscle that
has enabled them to fight with endur
ance the battles of life in a |)road el
and far different field. It is this very
fact that accounts for their success.
They have greater physical strength
than their city-bred brothers, and are
therefore better able to withstand the
fatigues of harassiug and tiresome
business. Their education, too, has
been of a far more beneficial and
bro: der nature, and may even be con
sidered as much better than that ob
tained wholly through book learning.
They have studied men and things, as
well as books, and as a rule are more
observant, quicker to receive and
apply the information gained only
through the contact with and observa
tion of business men and methods.
A Flea for Shorter Hours.
When the workingmen are striking
all over the land for less hours of labor,
the farmer who is his own master,
should not be tempted to overwork
himself, his hired men or his teams.
A little planning, a little calculation
in saving unnecessary labor, and a
little extra energy put In during the
shorter hours, will often accomplish
quite as much. If the total crops are
not as large, the short crops must
bring an increased price. These are
the arguments of the mechanic, and
they are equally applicable and equally
true for the farmer. It is true that
the farmer cannot always limit him
self to eight hours or to ten hours, as
there are times when a few hours of
overwork will save a crop, but If he
has saved his strength by shorter hours
on other days, he will have a reserve
to draw upon, which will prove useful
in those times of need.
There is no reason why the farmer
should toil from sunrise to sunset, and
then have an hour or two to spend in
"doing chores," to produce that which
the mechanio will buy with the labor
of eight hours or perhaps less time.
Particularly is this applicable in the
spring, when the character of the work
to be done is different from that which
has been done during the winter. A
new set of muscles is brought into play
and although they feel strong and vig
orous at the start, they get tired and
sore, and the 6peed must slacken to
give them a chance to recuperate. Do
not work yourselves or your teams so
as to get "h&rness-ohafed" and have to
lie idle to get over it, but take a lesson
from the professional ball players, and
from those who train horses. Put
yourselves in training before you try
to do all that you are capable of. Re
member too, that four-fifths of the far
mers and gardeners would accomplish
best results in the year if they do not
try to do so much.
Cutting Gran.
As a rule meadows should be cut
reasonably early, not later than when
the seed begins to form. Early cutting
aids to thicken up, while allowing the
nlania
to mature seeds inorauni th«
wtgwaeMat
*W$!gsMm'
loss, especially If the weather should
keep hot and-dry. Thin or vacant
places can be thickened up by raking
or harrowing so as to loosen up the
soil, and then sow plenty of good
seed, either In the foil or spring,
Diseases In Cereal Crop*.
Of all the diseases that affect the
cereal crops, the mildew and rust have
caused the greatest amount of damage,
and brought forth more comment from
the experiment stations. In studying
the mildew and rust of oats and wheat,
the greatest diversity of opinion will
be found from competent authorities.
After all of tfie facts have been gener
alized, and the results of experiments
have been carefully studied, the chief
causes in all cases will be attributed to
certain conditions that can be reme
died to a large extent by the farmers.
In England and Sweden it is still gen
erally believed that the rust and mil
dew on these cereal grains are caused
more or less by the barberry shrubs,
which grow there In great quantities.
These shrubs are nearly always
attacked by a fungus resembling the
mildew, and it is supposed that they
communicate it to the grains.
Although. there may be some founda
tion for this belief, and there seems to
be no doubt of it in the minds of lead
ing European agriculturists, it is not
safe to attribute the disease chiefly to
this cause.
The experiments in this country of
recent years naturally lead us to the
eonolusion that the weather, soil, mode
of culture and fertilizers have more to
do in causing mildew and rust in the
cereal crops than anything else. Cold,
wet and sunless weather affects the
cereal crops very directly, and will
frequently, if continued long enough,
induce mildew to form on the grains,
unless other conditions are very un
favorable for the formation of this fun
gus on the stalks.
To Beat An Kgg,
Any child knows how to beat an
egg, which Is true so far as that any
one by dint of patience and a fork can
beat an egg to a froth, but one person
will take fifteen minutes and have it
less light than another In five. The
one will beat fast, carrying the fork,
but entangling very little air the other
will lift the egg, as it were, and throw
it over the fork. This is the proper
way and does the work iu half the
time. Acquire the habit of beating
eggs, or, in fact, anything else, from
the elbow, not using the whole arm
the fatigue will be much lessened.
The use of egg-beaters has made egg
beating for cakes, such a formidable
task in our mother's day, a very light
one in ours, but for beating just one egg
a fork, even now, is often most conven
ient. Even with a beater, however,
the best results are obtained by ob
serving certain rules. In hot weather
leave the eggs in ice-water or on ice
for some time before using. It is not
a good plan, however, to keep all your
eggs on Ice, because they then become
so thoroughly chilled that in boiling
them you cannot estimate the time re
quired, and should they become frost
ed they are inferior for all purposes.
In beating the whites of eggs a tiny
pinch of salt will tend ty facilitate the
work.—Good Housekeeping.
Care for Horses.
The old horse is safer and better
for the use of the younger members of
the family than younger ones, but for
general farm work a horse should be
young and strong. During the sum
mer, when the work is very heavy, the
horses should be fed three times a day
and given two hours' rest at noon.
The Household.
Sprinkle places infested by ants with
borax, and you will soon be rid of
them.
To whiten yellow piano keys, rub
them with sand paper, and finish with
apiece of chamois.
A strip of flannel or a napkin wrung
out of hot water applied round the
neck of a child that has croup will
usually bring relief in ten minutes.
Hattan chairs that have become dis
colored may be made very pretty by a
coating of black or golden brown
paint and finished with a handsome
cushion.
Tak.
black court plaster, moisten
enough
to make it stick, and mend
your silk
umbrella by pressing it on
tho wrong
side with a warm iron over
a thin paJper.
One of the best things to cleanse the
scalp thoroughly is to dissolve one-half
toaspoonful of borax in a quart of
water and apply it, rubbing it in well.
Rinse thoroughly in clear water.
A fine furniture polish is made by
the use of the following recipe:
Alcohol, half pint: resin,. half an
ounce gum shellac, half an ounce a
few drops of analinc browu. Let stand
over night and add three gills of raw
linseed oil and half a pint of spirits of
turpentine. .Shake well before using.
Put on with cotton fianuel, ani rub
dry with another cloth.
Dresses that are entirely good often
have the under part of the sleeves worn
out, and it seems too bad to patch them,
so the best thing is to take out
th..
sleeves and make new under*. Many
ladies, in buying dresses for themsel cs
or children, get enough extra for a
new pair of sleeves and to allow for
mending. A three-cornered tear in a
dress can be neatly darned with silk,
or ravelling* of the same color, if a
small piece of the goods is placed
under the tear.
If the coffee is not ground home
when needed it must positively be kept
in a tight can. Beat an egg thorough
ly, and add to it one taacupful of cold
water. Wet the coffee thoroughly with
a few tablespoonfuls of this mixture,
and add it to the boiling water ten or
twelve minutes before needed. The
water should have just come to the
boiling point continued boiling injures
its flavor. After adding the coffee
draw the pot near the edge of the stove
where it will be six or eight minutes
in coming to the boiling point As
soon as It reaches this point remove it
tn ths buk of ths ruira.
DONE UFKO* FIFTY.
How Two Man Duped the Fre
quenters of a Saloon. #5i
A well-dressed stranger was sitting
la a Woodward avenge saloon the
other day when a tramplsh-looking fel
low came la and
4
'struck" the plaoe for
a quarter. His request was eoldly re
ceived by all except the stranger, who
went down into his pockets, found
nothing, says the Detroit Free Press,
and finally opened his wallet to pull
out a bill and say:
"I have no change. Here's a $50
bill which you can take to the bank
and get busted and I'll give you a
quarter."
When the tramp had gone with it
the half-dozen men in the place ex
pressed their wonder and amazement
that a man oould be found green
enough to take such a risk.
"Why he looked honest'" protested
the greenhorn.
"Yes, but he's in Canada by this
time," laughed the crowd.
"Don't you tnlnk he'll come back?"
"Why, of course not Never heard
of such a thing before."
After being guyed for a quarter of
an hour the stranger seemed to get
nettled, and when they kept piling it
on he replied:
"Well, I may be mistaken, but here's
fifty that says I'm not We'll give
him fifteen minutes more, and If he
does not return Til lose an even hun
dred or win your money."
It was quickly covered, and all sat
down to wait Nor for long, however,
in about five minutes the tramp made
his appearance, said a lame leg had
bothered him about getting around,
and counted down $50 in small blUs
and silver. The stranger gave him
his quarter, raked in his bet, and leav
ing half a dollar on the bar for drinks
he said good-by and walked out Then
the men looked at each other In a
sheepish way for a long time before
one of them heaved a deep sigh and
said:
"Gentlemen, they are partners, and
we have been done up for fifty!"
LEATHER CANNON.
Which Demonstrated the Value
of Light Artillery.
"Let me give you a bit of history,"
said a down-town leather merchant
the other day, "that many a student
has overlooked. The objects of peace
are not all that leather figures in, for
It is to leather that we owe the intro
duction of light artillery. Leather
cannons have been actually tried on
the battlefield, and what is more,
turned the tide of one of the greatest
battles of modern times. The invent
or of leathern artillery was a certain
Colonel Robert Scott a Scotchman in
the service of Charles I. of England.
"He constructed guns of hardened
leather and experimentally tried them.
Tho result was that they were pro
nounced superior to guns made of
brass or iron. But the colonel did not
live long to enjoy the greatest triumph
of his invention. He died in 1631, and
a monument erected to his memory I
have seen in a churchyard in London.
This monument represents him as an
armor-clad, fierce-looking man, wear
ing a heavy mustache and pointed
beard.
"In the very year of the colonel's
death the effectiveness of his leathern
artillery was amply proved on the
memorable field of Loipsic, where
Sept 7, 1631, Gustavus Adolphus
achieved his splendid victory over the
imperialists under General Tilly. It
is said that it was owing to the inven
tion of Colonel Scott that the victory
was obtained.
Misnamed Birds.
Speaking of the queer misnomers of
our fathers, the bird they called a
turkey buzzard is neither a turkey nor
a buzzard, but a vulture. The real
buzzard is a hawk, like our lien-hawk,
which indeed belongs to the family.
Just so when Columbus took home his
first Thanksgiving turkey (they seem
to have put him in prison for it), the
simple Europeans named it for the
land of its supposed origin, Turkey,
as the English is, or even India, ac
cording to the French. But then
America hardly had a name just then.
So our robin is not a robin at all, but
a thrush. The mountain lion isn't a
lion, but a panther—if you will,
painter, catamount, puma, or more
properly still, cougar. The ruffed
grouse is called a partridge, or more
commonly "patridge" in New En
gland, and a pheasant in Virginia.
The European partridge, perdrix, the
hero of the "toujours perdix" story,
does not exist in this country. Neither
does the pheasant, being represented
solely by Its country cousin, the wild
turkey. Finally, the ortyx Virginianus,
perhaps because it is neither a quail
nor a partridge, is called a partridge
in Virginia and a quail in New En
gland. Wherever it Is and whatever
called, thus shall you know the bird:
"Your ortyx sings or whistles what
he has to say about it all in two notes,
tho
"Bob White" of our boyhood,
whereas
the true partridge pipes
thrice, taken down by the stenographer
as Peet weet weet"
Still Higher.
Who ever cares from off the ground
To pick the fallen peach!
And yet will climb and dangers brave
For those beyond their reach.
Down in the vale, we long to see
The beauties up the hill
W hen, toiling on, the spot we gain,
Unreached find beauties still.
Then id'.o not at mountain's base,
But early sow your crop
Aim for some goal though hills are steep,
There ure prizes at the top.
Won't Be Interviewed.
Philadelphia Times: With some
public men the aversion to giving out
information is almost a disease.
"Why, how are you, senator?" said
a oprrespoudent to a prominent states
mt|ln the other day.
vl must firmly but respectfully de
cline to be
iect, sir.
interviewed that sub.
Quite at random I make up a list of
artieles to whldl the English assiga
names differing from those we ase:
That which we call a bowl Is here
known as a basin. In England you
ask for a basin of bread and milk.
That whieh is known to us a pitcher
is here called a jug.
donkey is here called a moke in
America moke is a negro. Local
slang for a cab horse is "sat's meat,"
because the meat of horses is peddled
around the streets for feeding to oats.
By the way, British cats averse much
larger than our American eats, and
they are notorious chioken-killers. The
brindle cat seems to be the common
est.
What we call crackers are here
known as biscuit, and I suspeet this is
strictly correct
What we call shoes are here known
as boots, and what we call boots are
here known as bluchers. There is one
shoe called the hilo, because it runs
high from the heel up back of the ankle
and is cut low in front.
Our druggist is here a chemist, many
of the older practitioners retaining the
old spelling—"chymist."
What we call ale is here known as
bitter beer.
What is here known as hash we
should call a stew, and what we call a
hash is here known as a mince.
In England our'' overcoat becomes a
great coat, our undershirt becomes a
vest, and our drawers become panta
loons. It is said that when George W.
Childs of Philadelphia, was in London
a number of years ago he walked into
a haberdashers and, seeking to appear
to be a native, asked to be shown the
styles in silk waistcoats. "Jeems,"
cried the proprietor to his assistant,
"step this way and show this Hameri
can gentleman our flowery weskits!"
What we call sick the Englishman
calls ill sickness here implies nausea
and vomiting. The British usage is
wrong but the late Richard Grant
White settled that point pretty definite
ly. How came the British to fall into
this perversion? It was, I think, be
cause the British can go nowhere ex
cept by water that travel by water in
duces unpleasant symptoms of nausea
and retching, whieh condition, called
sickness, gradually came to be re
garded as tho correct definition of th?
word sickness. I can't imagine how
the British justify their use of the
words homesick, heartsick, and love
sick.
Here they call a street car a tram
correct. Here, too, an elevator is a lift,
and that is right.
What we call a telegram is here
called a telegraph it will probably
never be determined which of these
usages is the better. Our postal card
is here a post card cuffs become
wrists.
That material known to us as canton
flannel is here called swan's down, and
our "muslin" is known hereabouts as
"calico."
Our "locomotive" becomes "engine,"
and our "conductor" is here a "guard."
What we call "stewing" (culinaiy
term) the British call "simmering
our "lunch" is here a "luncheon," and
our "baggage" becomes "luggage."
Our "wheat" is called "corn," and
our "corn" is called "maize," or,
sometimes, Indian corn. Pigs' feet
are called "trotters." By the way, a
theatrical name for a bad actor is "rot
ter."
A "chill" is here called a "rigor,"
and the eruption commonly known
among us as "hives" is here known as
"nettle-rash." Candy is known various
ly as "sweets," "sweetmeats," and
"lolly."
Writing to John Smith, your social
equal, you are expected to address him
as John Smith, Esq. if he be your
tailor, grocer, etc., you address him as
Mr. John Smith.
The word "apt" is exceedingly popu
lar here. It is "apt to rain," "apt to
be muddy," a man is "apt to go down
town," a bank is "apt to suspend," etc.
Even the best prints use this word as a
synonym for "likely" and "like."
Another barbarism everywhere preva
lent in the United Kingdom is the use
of the adverb "directly" for the con
junction "as soon as"—e. g., "directly
he went out I shut the door." Charles
Dickens, who was quite slovenly at
times, seems to have been addicted to
this indefensible vice.
What does this British word "left
tenant" mean? I should like to know.
"Quite11 is another hackneyed word
here it is edged in upon every occa
sion.
The first criticism I would pass upon
the press of London would be for the
indirectness of its speech. When a
newspaper writer wishes to convey the
idea that yesterday was a pleasant day
he says: "Yesterday was not an un
pleasant day." A good play is "not
half bad, "a'humorous speech is "not un
relieved by wit," a riotously applauded
address is "not wholly unaccented by
demonstrations of approval," and so
on, an injin. et ad naus. Now all this
sort of thing may be subtle and it may
be conservative, but it is not in the
spirit of the Anglo-Saxon, and it vexes
me to find so little of the Anglo-Saxon
in the literature, the speech, and the
practiccs of the very people where I
had thought to find so much.—Chicago
News.
A Valensian Lark.
Yale students recently made a raid
on the street lamps in New Haven and
stole the stens, which were stored in a
room at the college.
A
city official
sent for two of the leaders and re
marked: "We don't want to be severe
and therefore if you will bring back
the signs within thirty-six hours there
will be no further trouble. Otherwise
the band will begin to play. Now,
take your choice." The boys made the
choice without stopping to discuss the
matter, and the next evening 207 glass
signs were brought back in bags and
turned over to the authorities.
The Sound of Light.
One of the most wonderful discover
ies in science that have been made
within the last year or two is the fact
that a beam of light produces sound,
says the American Art Journal.
trum tall in*
by dlfferent parti of the
there will be sllenoe in ol
A
beam of sunlight is thrown through a
lens on a glass vessel that contains
lampback, colored silk or worsted, or
other substances. A disk having slits
or openings cut in it is made to revolve
swiftly in this beam of light, so as to
cut it up, thus making alternate flashes
of light and shadow. On putting the
ear to the glass vessel strange sounds
are heard so long as the flashing beam
is falling on the vessel.
Recently a more wonderful discovery
has been made. A beam of sunlight
is made to pass through a prism, so as
to produce what is called the solar
spectrum or rainbow. The disk is
turned, and the polored\ light of the
it
09a-
fcainbow is madev
FoWf pl«Qt th$,
For lnstaaoe, If the vessel
red worsted and the grem 11
upon it loud sounds wfll
Only feeble sounds will be hMraP
the red and blue parts of the
fall upon the vessel, and other bol
make no sound at all. Greea sUk|
sound best in red light Every
of material gives more or leas sound'1§L
different colors, and utters no sound
others. The discovery Is a strange owfcf®
and it is thought that more wonderful
things will come from It
MIND SUPERSEDES INSTINCT.
Row Man Has fant Mmny Instincts Tm*
bj the Lower
If the doctrine be true that man it
really the heir of all the various species
and genera of the animal kingdom, it
seems a little hard upon us, says the
AmeriSOn Analyst,
that even by way Ol
exception we inherit none of the most
marvelous instincts of those species
and genera, and have to be content
with those greater but purely human
faculties by which even the most won
derfui of animal instincts have been
somehow extinguished. Sir John Lub
bock maintains with a good deal of
plausibility that there are insects, and
very likely even higher animals, which
perceive colors of which we have no
glimpse and hear sounds which are to
us inaudible. Yet we never hear of
human retina that includes in its vision
those colors depending on vibration of
the ether which are too slow or to*
rapid for our ordinary eyes, nor of
human ear which is entranced with
music that to the great majority of our
species is absolutely inaudible.
Again, we never hear of a human
being who could perform the feat of
which we were told only recently, of
a bloodhound. In a dark night it fol
lowed up for three miles the trail of a
thief with whom the bloodhound could
have never been in contact (he had
just purloined some rolls of tan from
the tanyard in which the dog was
chained up), and finally sat down uh
der the tree in which the man had
taken refuge. Why, we wonder, are
those finer powers for discriminating
and following the track oi the scent
which so many of the lower anipials
possess entirely extinguished in man,
if man be the real heir of all the va
rious genera which show power in
ferior to his own!
We se^ no trace in animals of that
high enjoyment of the finer scents
which make the blossoming of the
spring flowers so great a delight to
human beings, and yet men are en
tirely destitute of that almost unerring
power of tracking the path of an odor,
which seems to be one of the principal
gifts of many quadrupeds and some
birds. It is tne same with the power
of a dog or cat to find its way back to
a home to which it is attached, but
from which it has been taken by a
route that it can not possibly follow on
its return, even if it had the power of
observing that route, which usually it
has not. Nothing could be more con
venient than sucn a power to a lost
child. But no one ever heard of any
child who possessed it.
Still more enviable is that instinct
possessed by so many birds of crossing
great tracts of land and sea without
apparently any landmarks or seamarks
to guide them, and of reaching a quar
ter of the globe which many of them
have never visited before, while those
who have visited it before have not
visited it often enough to learn the
way—at least by any rule which, in
like circumstances, would be of any
use to human intelligence. The mi
gratory birds must certainly be in
possession of either senses or instincts
entirely beyond the range of human
imagination, and yet no one ever heard
of the survival of such a sense of in
stinct in any member of our race. It
may be said, indeed, that men have
either inherited or reproduced the
slave-making instinct of some of the
military ants, though that unfortunate
and degrading instinct does not ap
pear to iiave been inherited by any of
the higher animals which intervene
between the insects and our own race
but this only enhances the irony of our
destiny, if we do, indeed, in any sense
inherit from these insects aristocracies
one of the most disastrous instincts of
the audacious but indolent creatures
which fight so much better than they
work. If we have not inherited the
architectural instincts of bees or beav
ers, nor the spinning instincts of
spiders, nor the power of the dog to
track out his home, it is a little sad
that we should have inherited the one
disastrous instinct of the ant by which
it makes itself dependent on a more
timid and industrious species of its
own race, and thereby loses the power
to help itself.
What is still more curious is that
even where human beings have whol
ly exceptional and unheard-of powers
they betray no traces of the exceptional
and unheard-of powers of the races
whose vital organization we are said
to inherit. The occasional appear
ance of very rare mathematical pow
ers, for instance, so far from being in
any sense explicable from below, looks
much more like inspiration..from
above. The calculating boy who could
not even give any account of the
process whereby he arrived at correct
results which the educated mathoina
tician took some time to verify, cer
tainly was not reviving in himself any
of the rare powers of the lower tribes
of animals. Nor do the prodigies in
music who show such marvelous pow
er in infancy recall to us any instinct
of the bird, the only musical creatures
except ourselves. Still less, of course,
does great moral genius—the genius o!
a Howard or a Clarkson—suggest any
reminiscence of what happens in the
world of animal life.
Give Children Plenty of Water.
For the reasons given, I advocate
under all conditions a plentiful addi
tion of water to children's food. In
this connection I would lay stress
upon the fact that as a rule, »mn
children receive water only as they get
it in their milk or milk food, «lifc« in
summer and in winter. It is proba
ble that the fact seldom occurs to a
mother or nurse that a child maybe
thirsty without being hungry at the
same time. Certainly many a discom
fort and even sickness in a child is con
ditioned upon the fact that it has been
compelled to eat in order to get its
thirst satisfied, and often has to suffer
thirst because the overstimulated and
injured stomach will take no more
nourishment at irregular and too short
intervals.—Archives of Pediatries.
-r-
.a*
a:-
ALong Seclnaion. j? jv
•.
An inmate of a luuatio asylum $a
Brescia, Italy, was released ba Feb.
after a seclusion of
this period hie «nt to"