OCR Interpretation


Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, March 07, 1872, Image 3

Image and text provided by State Historical Society of Iowa

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84027183/1872-03-07/ed-1/seq-3/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

THE IOWA VOTER.
gft&BY 15.UtIv.K8, PulilUwiS.
noxville, IOWA.
Some «T the Different Kin4f of Hen.
EY :0I,.. M. LEE.
Men arc more alike than women. There
u nis to be certain laws or fixed rules
whi :-h regulate the former, while the lat­
ter
may be said to constitute an infinite
h'i'onteratvm of varieties.
THE THOIlOrOIl GOINO BUSINESS MAN
i» rather an amusing study. His notes
iii vMi- go to protest—in fact, he seldom
gives any. He is not likely to be popular
with .school girls or imaginative young
ladies—there is not enough of the "free
lance" about him. A woman does not
Jikr to receive a sprawly letteron common
paper, commencing "Yours of the '14'
instant came to hand this date If you
chance to be extravagantly dressed, your
intense business friend regards you re
provingly, as one who would say, "One
half the expense of that suit of clothes
ami that watch and chain ought to be at
interest." When traveling on bum'twx* he
will sit up all night to save $2, and upon
'urning home subscribe $10 (at the ear
ned solicitation of a wealthy female pa
tron!
to the Infant Hottentot Linen Asso
(iMtion. lie casts his bread upon tlie
waters, knowing that it will come back
again after many days. When your thor
-going business man tells you, with
n i'Kik of placid coldness, that he cannot
JK.S
'bly accommodate you in the matter
of mat "little loan/' you know it were
easier for a camel to puss through the
needle's eye (or point, for that matter)
than for you to accomplish the aforesaid
"little loa.n." Order is his first law, and
lie never fails to impress the fact upon all
about him. "Mr. Jones will be in at nine
o'clock,'' the polite clerk informs you,
with a look, as much as to say, "If"you
have any loose change to bet against it,
I'm your man." If John, the coachman,
wen to drive around fifteen minute* late,
lie would do so with his official head un
der his arm. They are a little tedious and
prosy, these systematic people, yet when
one is waiting at the bank for a "raise"
that will save him from bankruptcy, he
will save li.m irom .rn^rup v
not
sympathize with mt,^ he would
reply with an agonized air. "My
fellow," I remarked, one day, "it would
take too much time pray let me make a
monthly deposit of sympathy for you to
'check' on." Since that time, in m\ pres
ence, he has eaten and suffered in silence.
Your dyspeptic is a thorn in his wifes
fleah, file terror of his children and ser
vants, and a bore to his friends. His
peevishness is of the pugnacious order,
and seeks relief in a war of words, lie
is not an agreeable companion ev er\ thing
he does is afflicted with that yellow cast
of his disease. When his sutierings are
not the result of continued indiscretions,
he deserves genuine pity.
TlIK HANOriN'F, MAW
is alternately in ee-stacy and despair. He
enters upon a project with the enthusiasm
UriiVl'X
hST
treat often wins a victory from sheer
lack of caution—his self-confidence
sweeping like a tidal-wave over evcrj
form of opp -sit ion. When reverses come
they are a
double defeat because unpro­
vided for and unexpected, leinperament
is his master. The lessons of experience
are unheeded, save for the time Ibe.ng
He rif/orhet* from good to bad Jut k
to good, his face always red with anticipa
tion, or purple with unforeseen
Your sanguine man is not proper
anced. In an undertaking requiring u I
thought and earnest preparation, he taKes
one-half for granted and trusts to luck for
tho accomplishment of the other.
THE iNqrisrrtvE MA
U worse than a leper. He is "J*"'
endless screw. He is like ict«»r Hnon'»
No, sir."
cashier.1* °I wonder whether these regular «'»hn would 'a stole, though lie tillers w
people do not w isli they could lie in bed
a half hour Inter now and then, just by the
•way of variety?
THE I NIXCKY MAX
deserves pity. Eevcrythin^ he touches
miscarries. He works hard, but does not
become rich. He sowrs, but gathers not.
Tie
Rothschilds are said to give unlucky
men
a wide berth in business, perhaps on
tiif supposition that lack of judgment,
rashae-1 or undue caution, inattention,
ami wfi'-' of capacity arc the primccauses
of .-»«uuy being unsuccessful. I have
often wondered how my friend Tomkins
or Smith could afford to spend so much
money on so limited a business. The so
lution has appeared under the disastrous
heading, "Failure." The unlucky man
is a fatalist. lie believes that some men
are sure to prosper, while with others it is
impossible. He is generally involved,
breathing an atmosphere of debt and dif- i
ficulty. Being looked upon at the banks
as a little "shaky," he is .sometimes una
ble to effect a loan that would save him
temporarily from ruin.
Tilt: KKF.CT AND POSITIVE MAX
is a great nuisance. Wliat he doet know
he knows with such an intensity of cer
tainty that the WCipht of tho «vorlu..»ii»«y
hills could not press out one iota of bin
stock in trade, lie is essentially a man of
•details. Regardless of the opinion of
others, he asserts his own with an air of
infallibility. There should be a dot over
his head, that the world might mark him
at a glance as in reality a little i." He
is the mortal foe of argument and logic.
Ideas petrify in his brain, and occasional
ly have to be. pounded or dug out, in
which event he lays them away in a sort
of charnel-house, hoping the)' may some
time come into use. Opposition lashes
him into a fury. He is dogmatic, unim
aginative, dictatorial and generally hate
ful.
THE DYSPEPTIC MAN
must receive a passing notice. I knew a
man who often ale twice the average din
ner, or, in other words, two men s din
ners, and afterwards made sad lamenta
tion that God continued to punish hiin
with that "terrible, dyspepsia." That man
tried all climes, but his magnificent appe
tite folio w ed him. Three limes a day he
threatened to "curse God and die, but
did neither—don think he had the nerve.
Two hundred and fifty times, while labor
ing with his pans, he has said to me:
"Have vou had the dyspepsia*' I finally
came to answer "No,'' in a business tone.
"You cannot appreciate my sufferings,
you do
acquires wonderful shrewdness in the art
of "pumping."
An army friend relates the following
experience on an Upper Mississippi boat":
Being in uniform, and having on his cap ploying them wears the
the number of his regiment, every indi- than a great rousing lie tol
vidual stranger seemed to look upon, him
as a sort of a Hip Van Winkle fossil of the
volunteer army, stiil wearing the military
i
harness in delightful ignorance that the
groat war chariot had been long ago sold
for old iron. One enthusiastic country- as tliev are."
man, tiring with patriotic ardor, exclaim
ed, "I liked the army, stranger, and
wouldn't mind gitin' into it again. Do
you reckon I could do it?" "Not the
leant doubt, provided you are able-bodied
—plenty of recruiting offices in the coun
try." Such a "snub"' with most men
would be quite sufficient. Not so in this
case, for the tormentor replied innocent
lv, "O, I meant as an officer." A Chicago to a great deal. "And it is this 'falseness
'drummer," introducing himself by an
invitation to "take a drink" (which my
friend declined, knowing that ten times
the worth of it would be "pumped" out
of him), with a sort of knowing look
asked
Twentieth Illinois."
"No, sir was the polite reply.
Twentieth Minnesota
"No, sir!'' more politely said.
"No? Ah! Twentieth New York
All that day the impertinent "tourist"
seemed to regard him with a puzzled look,
as if thinking, "I wonder what State he
fn* hail from, anyhow." I could not
help blaming my friend for the following:
A down-Easter, evidently never so far
from home before, confided the astound
ing fact that he had a son in the WW, and
followed it up with
"P'raps yon know'd him."
"What name
"John Prince."
"Why, to be sum he stole the Cap
tain's watch, and descfted just before Mal
vern Hill."
"I vttni! you don't say so!" exclaimed
the poor man, much distressed. "I never
heard o' that afore. Well Well John
allers im* a wild chap, and hain't never
been home since the war, though he writ
us he got a reg'lar discharge and then to
tiiink he went and stole a watch."
"May be it was another man of the
same name," suggested my friend.
Well, now, I never thought o' that—
I don't b'leVe
don
,t
wild.
"Now I think of it," said my friend,
"the John Prince I refer to had no father
I was much amused by a recent article
in the (hilu.ni on "One Legged Men." It
must have been written by an individual
of that class—at least the ''prium rentiffn"
must have been furnished by such a one.
I know a one armed veteran of the war,
who, being something of a wtg, often
pretended to be dumb when with slran
remaining hand in a sling, improvised
vkiih a handkerchief. He used to say he
could build a soldiers' home, foundling
asylum and an old woman's hospital if
the sympathy he received had a money
value—even for two cents on the dollar.
Much of that sort of sympathy, 'f'» "'V
called so, is maudlin to"1, unreal. It is
oftener idle an« impertinent cuiioMtv.
Mv soldier often electrified the lnquisi
ih'c ii) deseribing battles as the colored
pictures in shop windows portray them—
flags, horses, otlicers, men, cannon and
exploding shells mingled in picturesque
confusion, while in the foreground tl
great General sits upon an Arabian steed
(standing upon his hind legs) and holds
his sword aloft, for all the world as if
he knew some photographic rascal had
his instrument leveled on him at that pre
cise second, or that a certain Congress
ional District of his own State al
ready had him in view as their
war nuKluhite. IIow proudly, how
scornfully lie gazes at the enemy advanc
ing in myriads, and charging bayonets al
most under his nose. He defies Death
himself, and, to prove it, wears a drt** hat
and tjiault ttfn (which, perhaps, never hap
pened in this country on the battle field,
unless accidentally).
1 nipiisitiveness is the best proof of bad
breeding. The inquisitive man is a
human mosquito. His buzz is more annoy
ing than the bite. You may brush him
av, i.y but he returns from another quarter.
The only way is to let him "light'_ when
everhc will, and then "squelch' him.
TLIK 1IONKST MAN"!
All! simple Diogenes! Exchange thy
lantern for a calcium light andfortity thy
failing vision with wondrous lenses—not
that
the type is extinct. God forbid! I
can imagine no conviction more satisfy
ing to the human breast than that a friend
is near iu whose keeping one's honor, as
well
as his gold, is entirely safe.
Christian is more secure of tkc Heavenly
inheritance than an honest man, for he is
the very embodiment of Christianity.
Though
off
lie
Devi! Fish, sucking your inmost thoughts i *de.tl
and the worst of it is that he often U'ts ^.7 ^,
more than lie can hold (as was tho ase
with Jacky Horner after the absorption
of his entire Christmas pie)
he is a gossip. Hi
trying to worm eut
proves that honor i
breast When him
he is doubly a bore.
miliar as the diploma ,.
"his hands be hard, and his knees
and elbows out, vet he is the living tri
umph of the golden rule, loving Ood and
man, and doing good to the day of his
death.—Ittroit Fru llrt*».
Small Deeellfc
MEK
at first deceive, knowing it: but
bv the constant use of deception they
cease to even know that they are doing it.
Gradually
il
blinds
the
IICE p'lSJ very
cinerv.
moral
K-nse. And
it is in'this direction that great lies, are
less harmful than little ones. Men think
more' dangerous, because there are so
many of them and because each of them
is diamond pointed. And these
untruths which are so
petty
little
small that
vou do not notice them, and so numerous
.A. tl\am a re h»
that vou cannot estimate them, -».-«« «v
one's that take off the very enamel of the i
moral sense-—cut away its surface. Ana
men become so accustomed
()i
by
gbiflin
dynamicai
Therefore
to it, that
tliev do not recognize that the y are put,
ting things in false- lights, when, by word.
indirections, by exaggera-
j, |,(.emphasis, by various
ver ilu
expressions, "in strict confidence up* i tbqr
on my sacmi honor, sir," etc., etc. He ttom wan*
And those very persons
in little things that tends to dim, to ob
scure, to almost obliterate, a sense of
truth. There are men who have almost
entirely lost their sense of proportion,
their appreciation of magnitude, and
their understanding of the connection be
tween cause and effect. Tiny look at
everything in the light of what they want,
so much that the}- think that is true which
they desire to have true.—II. H'. lim-hcr.
A Word for the Women.
knows to the contrary, while his wife, be
lieving him to be rich, has dressed and
lived only as his circumstances warranted,
doing it, too, only for his sake, that he
might not be ashamed to introduce her as
his wife. Or if
she
.. can lovingly control the course of any
living—so he cannot have been your j)rop,.r wife.
Women are often extravagant. The
"Well! I'm glad to hear it, though, to
tell the truth, John allers was a"— Here
the shrill whistle of the boat came to the
rescue, and under cover of it my friend
got away.
has la-en as extrava­
gant as he, the fault is usually his, so long
as the fact remains that any proper man
fact can not be denied Rut that they are
more so than men is by no means true.
As a rule, every woman wishes to live
within her husband's income, and in nine
families out of ten all the economizing
done at all is done by
gers, ami carried a small slate. Now and extravagant. One of these has recently
then, to intensify the scene, he had the i told the public through the newspapers
how it takes all his income of two thou
and dollars to support him as a singh'
man, and after looking over his bill of
items and finding that it takes fifty-two
dollars worth of perfumery every year to
keep him sweet, we quite agree with him
that he should not marry. A
women wcuU
!hewife.
This constant iteration of the charge
against women, however, has secured a
kind of passive acceptance for thetheorv,
and nothing is more common now than
for young men with salaries of two or
three thousand a year to lament their
inability to marry, because women are so
While tliev do not wait for the- last ex
tremity of'distress before extending relief,
they discover cases of poverty as urgent
as any which have been stated, and many
only a little less abject, which nevercome
(((t*he
|tnowi,.,|:c of public functionaries
In the relief of such destitution as they
find, the se private- charities ex|tend more
money annually than is required by the
Commissioners of Charities ami Correc
tion for all the sick, de stitute, and crimi
nals coming into their charge. It is
therefore apparent that hardly half the
pauperism of the city is u matter of offi
cial knowledge, and the gaunt legion of
22.7H2 .starving people is but a fraction of
the army of misery which the city »n
muster.
Another *nl perhaps more sorrowful
phase of human helplessness is found in
the public hospitals and it is equally
eon vine i-ng proof of the fact that New
York in her youth is afflicted with the
bv scouring, to cut the vc^ry surface of tljHease of pauperism to an extent normal
nu-tal down,' what does he do Take a
bar of iron and rub it? No he takes
oniy
small as a st reet,
particles* are as
M-rism to an extent normal
to it city in its 'h-ereptit ude He.h-
TUe
Hospital, at the:foot of East Twenty
Charity Hospital, on
two
health were self sustaining, but all, with
a few exceptions among the victims of
is constantly doing uncertain battle with i
the wolf at'the door, so that if disabled
an- the «-ven for a day they must receive charity.
upers anc
added to the public burdenF. Besides
these, the he»spitals for contagious dis
eases received during the year 6,1H5, and
the Bureau for the Belief of Outdoor
n
this *e n*5 they are
nieans, they present things, not gimple sickness for whiOi they ^""l'1
a« thev see them, but as they want to sec ,10t provide the means of relief,
as they see uiem, Grouping now all the poor for a gen
the-ni. v. i ,.t ti.iu nioirnrmlitan misery. I
reaUr a**) ft* potty i a* km
aD(
Lln.t
Sic k prescribed for N,*r»0 persons, who
become paupers for the hour by some
[iOJlOT succored bv private
agencies, makiii? a ^rand total of llji.•-?!*(»
human Iwings who, ».'1 year 1*70, in
this city of New York, were^ the recipi
ents of eleniosynary aid. il''8 shows
the poverty of "the city complete -, but to
see its poverty, its improvidence, and its
falsne«ses to which men resort in order
that they may reulize their vain ambitious
life—these are pernicious and demoraliz,
ing in the extreme. And the habit of em
haracter mor«
told six times
ear would do. Yet there are men, who, crime at a glance, add to the figures given
if they are convicted of falsehood in a
great transaction, would lose their char
acter forever. Their neighbors would
say of them, "We cannot trust such men
Commissioners of Charities, and the 71,-
who say they would not trust" them, do
not hesitate to indulge themselves in five .....
million petty falsehoods little midgets of only a small fraction less than one-quar
ter of the whole population of the city,
were dependent during the year, in whole
or in part, upon the other three-quarters.
lies, in the course of a year. A lion is to
be dreaded, to be sure but deliver me
from those blood-sucking insects which
majte me smart and sutler! A sin
gle mosquito is not much but a multi
tude of them, myriads of them, amount
At (fur Side of yew York" in 1'he Gal
axy for March.
The Poor Rich and the
Man.
SOMF.HODV once said that the women of
today are so extravagant in dress, and so
helpless in other respects, that none but
rich men can afford to marry, and foolish ynrd, and there were several wild cherry
people have been saying the
same thing or I trees whieh bore abundantly around the
something vcrv like"it ever since. Every
time a man fails in business, people take
a mental inventory of his wife's wardrobe,
and cry out Poor fellow, he was ruined
by her extravagance." No account is
taken of his club expenses, or his unnec
essary restaurant bills, or his fast horses,
or the vanity that prompted him to buy
a bigger and liner house than he needed.
Nothing is said of the dress-coats made
by some Monsieur Snip, who charges an
extra price because he calls himself an
"artist tailor." The man ma}- have gam
bled his money away or have hst it iu
reckless
stock speculation for
till
anybody
of
v
would probably give him trouble even
with a much larger income than his to
draw upon
pauperism in Mew York*
Wnti.K its pauperism is its shame, the
charity of New York is its glory, and
covers a multitude of its sins. The city
has one hundred and five private chari
ties fully organized, and constantly en
gaged in succoring the distressed. Such
institutions as the Five Points Mission,
the Children's Aid Society, the several
orphan asyiums, homes for the indigent,
and hospitals for the sick, which are
mainly supported by private funds, are
aggressive charities. They seek suffering
instead of waiting for it to seek them,
as almoners of public funds must always
i do. :nd they find a vast deal more of it.
Rich Poor
YOUNG men cannot learn too early that
money alone does not nmke a torture. A
bag of doubloons was nothing to Robin
son Crusoe. Whole chests full of gold
w ere worth less than a single rough plank
to the returning Califoruians when the
great steamer was on tire.
Money is only worth what it will buy.
Old Hen. W was eounted to be a rich
man in my childhood. He had money in
sticks and many farms with old build lugs
oLthcm. lie lived in one of the worst
aid rented the others. A few old strag
gling currant bushes decorated his front
plice. He made butter and cheese, and
raii'-d fat cuttle for the market, which all
brought him in ready money. Hard
drudgery was the order of the day at his
house from January to December. He
was a hard man to deal with, and furious
at every new demand for clothing from I
his large family. The lw»ys learned early
to shift for themselves, and the poor
girls married unhappily to escape from
the dismal home of tyranny. B. W
"died rich," as the world called it, but i
who would covet such riches*
There was the poor miller who lived
just across the stream, who only owned i
his house and little farm, but oh, how
much richer and happier he was than the
churlish miser! His mse was buried in i
roses, and before it were two large and
well-kept flower-beds, with no uncommon
flowers in them, but Just the ones the
childien love best. A grand row of lo- i
eust trees shaded the sidewalk, and on
the sunny, southward slope were such
cherry trees as we s'Jdotn scenotv-a-days.
The garden abound.-d in well-pruned cur
rant and raspberry hushes, red and whitv
and black, and a li»e grape-vine ran over
a pleasant arbor. .1 w.ts thirty years ugo,
and modern cultivated small fruits were
unknown, but M). Mather had made the
most out of common material. He had a
succession of t'elicious fruits from the
time the gooseberries came until the win
ter apples wen' gone, and many cups and
jars
preserves and hags
of
dried fruit
were stored avav in the capacious pantry
for winter i»e. Within doors thrift ami
tuste and neitness combined to make the
home one »f thom? sunny pictures the
mind deliglts to recall. When his day's
task at the mill was over, you might id
ways sec lie cheery miller at work in his
garden with hoe or pruning knife, and
though ouite poor and compelled tn dress
most plainly, there was not a family in
the pla-e whose table was supplied so
luxuriotsly. mid all from the fruit of his
itemenber, young men, it is the little
comfort* of life that make you indepen
dent ri«h men you may lie poor with
The trouble is, men want to live in a i miIlio n-you may be rich on four bun
more costly style than their income will dred a j-ear.
allow. They hire houses they cannot
afford, and buy furniture beyond their
means, and "put on style" generally,
whiih they can not maintain. Their
wives, knowing less than they of the
purse-depths at command, accept the
husbands' estimate of their ability to live,
and they dress as their lords clea'rly wish
them to do. And so the crash comes,
and "p(»or Charlev" is commiserated,
while his little wife s shoulders are sad
dluU wiUi the blame—Hearth and Horn*.
If yu e»wn a little farm, a beautiful
home ttough it be small, a cow, a horse,
a gardn full of fruit and vegetables, a
poultr\ yard and such like luxuries, you
may coint yourself among the rich men.
If you would have such an estate, remem
ber yot must delve for it.
A Plea for Mght Air*
BOTin Heaven's name what air, as Miss
Nighthgale savs, ran we breathe nt night
exe:eptnight air? The e hoiec lies between
pure nght air from without and foul night
air froii within most people prefer the
latter, is true, but it is night air all the
same*, 'lough they may not be aware of
the fat.
Did .on ever test the se two kinds of
night a- by going early in the morning
into therootn of a person brought up to
sleep wh closed windows, and iminedi I
ately af-rward into one where the sash
has beeilowercd six inches from the top,
and raisl six from the* bottom!1 Well,
what diiyou find? In one, however
pretty ai well arranged, however healthy.
neat, an wcll-lucd its occupant, a smell
of bed tlies, of damp towe ls, of dust, of
I carpet—II slight, but all indicative eif
that use-up condition of the atmosphere
which iso ital to a sleeper. In the other,
i no iM'ttcsituated or furnished, an elastic
feeling, perfume of freshness which
made brthing pleasant. Was it not so?
Or iliilou e ve compare your eiwn sen
Hat ions tt»r sleeping in fresh air with
those prluce-d after sleeping in foul?
How ti of the- failures, the mischances
of life, th morning dullness which hin
dered thi»r that, the- refusal of the- brain
I to work t« critical moment, the apathy,
1
the blindfcs of perception, date back to
1
that unail U-droom which sent us forth
i unrefresh to our work, and ushered in
i a depressr and discouraged day.
Hut it useless to CON tend with so
deeply-rotd a prejudice. Eot us go
I back to oicxiled friend, who certainly
has n day tie claim, though he be denied
a nightly c, to our sufferance.
How fcof us recognize, us the long
winters ens away, and, shrinking from
the outwachill, we cower into fire side
corners am arm wraps, how day by day
we are imsibly contenting ourselves
with the s.y breathe ejver air which,
scarcely tpvated since, supplied our
lungs yesday and the day before.
"Open tliwind iws, indeed," we cry
"why, it'dl we- can do to exist with
them tightdiut
Yes, btiHradox as It seems, there is
warmth in* very cold which an open
gen of the crair, quickening thecire u
lation amlringing the teui|»eratiire of
head, ham and feet into proper bal
ance, will tse ]f Induce a gldw which
helps the lto re warm the room after
its airing, id with the eepiipose of cir
culation gohumor come and cheer
fulness, artie
How we l«lhe se things—how dull we
grow stewi&vcr registers, or la:fore an
thracite buig stoves. The winter
seems to goto us—our wits stiffen and
freeze wci't laugh or enjoy, we sini
ply endure, and with desperate long
ing sit wai for the spring.—" JJonu
and Society,i Scribner't, fr/r March.
i
Youths' Department.
VOYAGE OS AX ICE-CAKE.
BY CIIAHLEd E. uruo.
You boy* Imagine that going to Mft is
the 4o,2(.» who during the year applied very nice thing. You sit with your legs
for work at the Labor Bureau of the
i
dangling off the wharf warm afternoons
1
and smell the pine apples and oranges,
840 who became inmates of the various and watch the vessels coming up the har
prisons and reformatories of the city, bor with sails spread, and think there in
Here we are face to face with the fact that no life like a sailor's. It is natural enough,
2.8,:):!0 out of a population of 94'J.292, or t'»o. 1 used to have the same feeling*. I
fan' ied, when I was a boy, that when
vessels left the harbor they went where
they liked, sailing along the coast and
among the islands, and that sailors could
go ashore when they pleased, and were
as happy as happy could he. lioys have
queer notions. They never think of the
danger, and suffering, and cruelty on i i mm tteti one end of on
board of a ship, of which any sailor, if
he chooscs. can tell them. 1 can remem
ber just how things used to look to me
then. The water seemed so smooth and
pleasant just as if it was made to sail on.
1 used to play around the wharves and
get into the boats, and imagine myself
quite a sailor. I've had my day since
then on shipboard, and could tell you
stories that would cure you of wanting
to go to sea, if Inn s ever could be cured
by stories. But they can't, and perhaps
the best way, after all, is to let everybody
learn by experience.
I've never told you about my first voy
age. It was a short one and came very
near being my last. I was only twelve
years old then, and it is nigh forty years
ago, but I remember it as well "as If It
was only this forenoon.
It was in the spring of the year, and
Yarmouth Harbor had been frozen over.
for the winter had been colder than usual.
There hud been a week of warm weather,
with a slight rain, and the ice had got
considerably broken. Every tide great
cakes were carried down tin channel and
out to sea. One afternoon your fathe r,
who was two years younger, started witli
me to see the break up in the upper har«
bor. On the way we went past the Widow
Wilson's, uud little Benny was play
ing in the yard with his
sled. When he found out where we were
going, he was wild to go with us. He
didn't have to ask leave, as his mother
was away so he followed us along in
great glee, dragging his sled with him,
although the ground was nearly bare.
When we got to the head of the harbor,
the tide was just beginning to ebb, ami
the ice was in motion. We stood on one
of the wharves for a long time watching
the great blocks heaving am! crushing thing to eat
and sailing slowly along toward the chan
nel, and so out to se.i. About sunset it
began to rain, and the wiud ciime up. It
wus a long distance home around the
bend of the harbor, though our house was
iu plain view. If it had only been clear
water, and we had had our boat, it would
have taken but a short time to reach our
wharf.
We might ride on the ice," said your
father.
The idea had never struck me. I noticed
that every block struck the shore just be
low our house, ami then eddied oil into
th" channcl again. It would lie capital.
We could have
SIK-}I
a nice ride and have-
it to tell of afterwards. There was a lad
detr reaching down the side of the wlmrf,
and we climbed down and stood on a tim
ber, waiting for a big piece. Pretty soon
one came. The end juM touched the
wharf and swung around sidewny*. wlcit
wric, JUst as it it had been done on
purpose-, and we jumped on. It was
about twenty feet long, and a little more
than half as wide, and just in the middle
was a stout pole, standing up liken mast,
which had been frozen in. It seemed al
most like a ship, and we played we were
sailors, and
shouted,
and sung, And had a
splendid time. We didn't get along as
fast as we had thought, howe ver, and bo
fore we reae bed the place we re we intend
ed ft) land it was dark, and the- rain was
falling in torrents. We could just see
the shore, and the lights, as they begun
to come out in the village and we could
see, too, that for two or three rod* from
the shore the water w.-is filled with small
pieces of i e-—too small to bear emr
weight, yet large enough to prevent our
raft from coining lose in. For a minute
or two we remained stationary, and we
we ii' in hopes that your grandfather
would see us and bring something to help
us ashore. Then the huge crake begun to
drift again. We shouted, but no aiiHwer
came back. The n your father and IJenny
began crving but, although I was afraid
w- should be carried out. to se a, I tried to
keep my heart up. I was in hope-s that
we could make them hear at the ove, or
that the light house keeper at the Cape
might see us. I did not reall/.e the full
danger we we-re in. 1 knew it was rough
off the- Cape, and I knew, too, tin- ice
might break but I hail such strong faith
that we should he resetted that it didn't
affee-t ni- much.
When we got opposite the light we
could sec the keeper trimming the lamp.
He heard us, and shouted back. We
were not a dozen yards apart. I called
out our name s, anef begged him to help
I us. He tried to launch his boat, hut
1 the ice was piled in heaps by the land
i ing, ami all his cndeaveira we re in vain.
Then he shouteul that lie would
raise an alarm and send boats but I
I knew that he had four long miles to go
en foot before that could be done and by
that time we might be- out of sight. They
I could never find us in the darkness, anil
the waves would wash us off the moment
I we fiot into the open bay. I did not dare
to give way before the little boys, but
I felt sure that we should never see home
again.
The water began to grow rougher, and
It w as not long before we had to cling to
the pole to keep on the ie e. We could
not see each other plainly—it was so dark
—and the water broke over us every mo
ment. The souncl of the fog bell ef the
C'apc grew fainter, and at last ceased alto
jjH|j-r.
Then I knew we were lost. Your
waH n
j,
rHVe
]j U)
capacity to^ be amused, i then how he lived through that night.
After awhile it stopped raining, and
lightened] up
fellow—braver
and better than I. After he Intel been
quite still a long time he began saying
the
Lord's
prayer aloud. He tolel me af-
terwards that lie wasn't a bit afraid after
that. He knew that God would save us.
But poor little Benny Wilson! Every
sob went to my heart like a knife. I knew
his mother would be nigh distracted
when she found out that he was gone.
He sat on his s|e with one hand
tight hold of mine, and the other
clinging to the pole. He was only
six years old, and a weakly little chap at
that. 1 have wondered many times since
HO
EXTHA attion and fe:ed given cows that we were not washed off. Every wuvc
when dry. v be re-paid next season in that came, I felt sure that we were gone
added thriftd produce, but the Ice seemed to lift up with it, and
though we were constantly drenched, we
managed to keep our place. It seemed
as if the night would never go. I tried to
make believe I was dreaming, and that
was at home abed in my little room ami
for a minute it would seem true. Then a
wave would come, or little Benny would
cry out, and the dreadful reality would
I come back to me.
Morning came at last, and our cotirag
rose with the sun. I stood up and took a.
survey, but there \TOS a thick fog, and 1
could see ueii ler land nor vessel. I knevp
they would s iul out boats from Yar
mouth, and I had been praying that they
might, tind us. Once I fancied I heard
people calling, and I shouted and listened
till I was completely cvha tsted. Then I
gave tip and shrunk down again. What
with the cold, and fright, and hunger, Ht
tie Benny had fallen into a sort of stupor,
I had tied ene end of my woolen comfort
other to the
|Hile, to keep him from rolling off, for the
water was growing rougher, ami I was
afraiil 1 might let go of him. The feg
thickened very fast, and at last we could
hardly more than see the end of our raft.
All at oiu-c your father started up, uud ut
most shoutod:
1
0r
round his waist, and tin
There's a vessel coming! Hark!"
My heart beat so loud that at first I
con hi hear nothing else. Then, a mo
ment afte-r, the creaking of blocks and
the sound of voices came through the
fog, seemingly within a few yards.
I never tlftuight 1 could shout aa
lemd as I did the next second.
An answer came back so ar that it
almost startled me. They thought, we
found afterwards, that they wire running
into another vessel.
"We're- lost!" I cried ont. "Weare
on a cake of ice—ihree boys!'"
"Great heavens!" we heard the captain
say. Then came the order: Down with
the boats!"
They struck the water in nearly tho
same minute the order was given, and
then we heard the stroke of oars.
"Where away?" came the voice Again.
Hen-!" we both shouted.
A minute after we saw the dark side of
the lwat as she broke through the feg and
slid alongside the ice. 1 shall never for
get the astonishment of the men when
thev got sight of u.s, or their evcJamatioua
of wonder and sympathy as they lifteul UH
intothebo.it and pushed for the vessel,
which was hardly a dozen lengths away.
The captain was a rough looking sort of
man, and I was a little afraid of him
but when he heard our story, the tear*
ran down his cheeks like tain.
Go down into the cabin and get some
ami dr your clothes," he
said, and then tiu*.iing to the mate, wh«
had gone aft, lie cried: "Put her away
for Yarmouth!"
The owner was on board, and wu
standing by.
That won't do," said he. "The boya
sale, nud you can send them back
f» "Hi Boston," for it seems the vessel was
tieinnd to that port.
The captain's eyes Hashed aa he
answered
You're the owner here, hut I'm the
caption. This schooner goes into Yar
mouth Harbor to night if she sinks at the
wharf, l'xc got tw.» y.«i i^»)eis down on
the Cape about the size- ed' them boys,
and I'm goin' to do just, what I'd uant
anybody else lo do if the y could change
places."
You know what the oonsequence*
will be.''
"No, I don't. And it wouldn't make
any difference if I did. I'm able to tako
'em, ami, moreover, I'm willin'. Head
her no'th by east!"
It would be taking up too much time to
tell you how they all tried make na
comfortable. We- wen put into bunks
while our clothes were dryiuir, having
had a hearty meal first, and it wasn't
long before we were asleep. When i
woke- I found the captain standing by me.
"Jump up, my lad," said he. "You're
almost home. We're off the Cape n«w,
and bv ti o'clock you will he in your
father'* house."
Your father and Bennv were nearly
dressed, and were wild with delight.
I'm going to see my mother! I'm go
ing to see my mother!" Benny kept
saying, as one of the sailors was button
ing his jae-ket and lacing up his shoes.
Then we scramble on deck. It seemed
such a time getting from Bunker's Island
up to the channel. Long before we got
to the wharf people had spied us thrcaigh
their glasses, ami the word had spread.
It seemed as if half the town was at tho
wharf, and you may be sure your grand
mother and Benny's mother were not in
the rear.
You can imagine the rest as well as I
could tell it. It's a part of the ste»ry I
always skip. I will only say that Cap
tain Crowell, who brought us home, and
who wa« discharged at Boston, was offer
ed the command of one of the finest brigs
that ever sailed out of YHrmouth, and
went down in her in a storm off the West
Indies, ten years afterwards.—Little Cor
]xmd.
Tine Chi I'tion Fungus has been di»
cussed by the Mas.Hacim»c-Ms Board of
Health, and Dr. J. C. White reports to
the Board that he has seen not a few
cases of diseascj of the scalp supposed by
the patient to have heen caught from some
impurity attached to the chignon we»rn.
Such fears an groundless. There have
been e,bscrve little globular masses upon
the shafts of the hair before cleansing,
and in cases where such cleansing is not
properly clone, also upon the hair after
being manufactured into shape for wear.
These masses un- composed of the ele
ment of a fungus, and the n- is no reason
to suppose i' capable »f attaching itself
to living tissue- or of creating any disease
of the parts with which it might bo
brought in contact." The possibility of
receiving animal parasites through the
false hair worn is a question for ign to
the Board, but the Doctor states that the
elried sebaceous concretions which form
at times upon the shafts of the h.iir, and
sre properly called "hair-eaters," and
supposed to lie a cause of IDHS of hair,
are
not
that we could sec a little,
but it was worse that the darkness. I did
not dare to look at tlm water—it was
enough to fe el it. So I clung to little
Benny, who had cried himself U sleep,
and shut my eyes. Your father sat still,
grasping the pole with both hands, but
never speaking. The strangest thing was
to be confounded with anything
of a parasitic nature.
A STOUEKKKJ'EH at QulnCy, Midi.,!
ing a pup that habitually upset the paint
cans in the rear end of the store, rubbed
the dog's nose in the spilled paint as a re
minder that he must not de» so again.
B'rently the animal again spilled the
paint, and observing that bis master was
cngage in waiting on a customer, the
docile pup rubbed his own nose in tho
mixture and ran howling out the back
way.
A WHITEK in the Mtdiral Time*
(ImetU refers to the fatigue of the limbe
produced after a long railway journry aa
due mainly to the trembling motion of
the floor under the feet, and states tliat,
having suffered considerably from this
abuse, he was induced to try an air cush
ion as a foot-stool. This answered so
well that he has never traveled without
lining one in this wsy, and found theo&
feet to be a remarkable improvement.

xml | txt