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THE DODGE CITTTIltESJ
m KCBSCmrTIUt: S.OO jwr Tw, U Acnarr. I ', . ' NICHOLAS . KLAIXE. - Editor CESTENRIAL ODE. The fnllowlns is the Centennial Ode. written liy l'a'.l II. Ilayno. which was sunjr at the re--tent Vorktowti (Va.) lentcnntal: I. Hark! bark! down tho century's long-rcach- ina slope. To tboo transports of triumph those rapt ures of hope.! The tolcea of main and of mountain com bined. In triad resonaneo borne on tho wings of tho wind: The bass of the drum and tho trumpet that thrills Through the multiplied echoes of Jubilant bills! And m irk! how tho years, meltlnsr upward like mist. Which the breath of some splendid enchant ment bus ki-s -d. Ittealon tbeicoan, reveal on tho shore. The pnnid raycant of conquost that Braced teem of t oro. Cnonc?. Who e Mndod forever In lovo as In fame. See! the standard which stolo from the starlight us tlatnp. And typo of all chit airy, jrlory, romance. The fair llliei, the luminous Miles of i ran c! it. Oh! stubborn the strife, ere tho conflict was won! And the wlld-whirlln? war-wrack half-stilled the sun: The tLunders or cannon that boomed on the lea But re-echoed far thunders pealed up from the sea -Where Kuardinz' his sea-lists a knight on the waves Bald Do nraso kept at bay tho blutl bull-dogs of Graves The day turned todarkness, the night changed to tlte. MIU mora fierce waxed the combat, more deadly tho Ire In malestlc advance, behold where they ride Undimmed by the gloom o'er the red battle tide. CnoRif. Those banners united In love and In fame The brave standards which drew from the starbeams their name. And type of all chivalry, glory, ro mance. The fair lilies, the luminous Ul'es of France! in. no respite! no pause! by the York's tortured Hood Tho gray Lion of England Is wr.thlng In blood! Comwallls may chafe, onl coarse Tarltou ater As he sharpens his broadsword and buckles bis cpur "This blade, which so oft has reaped Itebc's like grain. Shall now- harvest for death the rudo yeoman again." a'nboastI forero sunset he's flying In fear. With the rebels be scouted close, close In tbo rearl Tha French on bis flank hurl such volleys of OOl That e'en Gloucester's redoubt must be grow ing too hot. CnORVs. Thus wedded in love, as united la fame. Lo! the standard that stole from tho starlight Its name And type of all chivalry, glory, ro mance. The fair lilies, the luminous lilies of Francs! IV. 01 morning superb! when tho siege reached its close! See! tbeMiwlawn outbloom like the alcbem 1st s roe! The last wreaths of smoke from dim trenches upcurled Are tran-r ormed to a glory that smiles on tbe world. Joy! Joy: gat e the wan, wasted front of the foe. With his battle-flags furled and his arms trail ing low, Bcapectfor the brave! In grim silence they icld. And In silence they pass with bowed heads trom the field. Then trlumpb transcendant! So Titan of tono That some vowed It must startle King Georgo on his throne! Cnoucs. O! wedded In love, as united In fame, See! tbe standard that stolo from tho starlight Its tlame And typo of all cblt airy, glory, ro mance. The fair lilies, tho luminous lilies of France: When Peace to her own" timed tho pulse of tbe land And the war-weapon sunk from tho war- ttenriel han W Young Freedom, upborne to tho height of the goal She bad yearned tor so long with deep trat all or soul A song of bcr future raised, thrilling and cleur. Till the woods leaned to hearken, the hill slopes to hear! Yet, fraught with all magical grandeurs that gleam On tho hero's high hope or tbo patriot's dream, Wbat Future, tho bright, in cold shadow shall cast Tbe stern beauty that haloes the brow of the I'astr 4 t Cuonci. O! wedded in love as united In fame! See! tbe standard that stolo from the starlight Its tlame,' And type of all chit airy, glory, ro mance Tbo fair lilies, the luminous lilies of France! TBE MOIOTAL.NS FALLING. Detail of the Landslip In Switzer land Score or People Swallowed Up Elm and llotrill Was Destroyed. A terrible calamity has fallen upon this once lovely village of Elm. iine years ago on a.bright June morning I saw Elm Tor theilrst time. To well ue scribe Elm as it appeared on that bright day would be no easy task, yet even the dullest pen conld not fail to gain some inspiration from a recollection of the scene. No other spot in all the Alps could boast so many and such varied attractions. Three thousand and odd feJt above the level of the sea. it nest led half in the valley, half clinging to tbe hillside in a deep basin formed by great mountain peaks which towered above. Just over tho vil'age rose the Plattenbcrg and Mittaghorn to a height of from 4.500 to 6,70i) -feet, while be yond and all about the Piz Scgncs, 9, 300 feet high, the SardonstocK. 9.162 feet high, the Hausstock, 9,456 feet, and the Vorab, 9,075 feet, all crowned with everlasting snow, reflected the bright summer sun back into the green valley far below. Three well-sized brooks, coming from the glaciers com paratively near at hand, united above the village to form the little Hiver Sernf, which flowed through it to the lowlands far away. On its banks broad fields spread out through the valley, and, though the season was always short, so carefully were they cultivated that the people never wanted for an abundance of vegetables and fruit. So situated, so blessed by nature, the 1,100 inhabitants of Elm, well housed in strong dwellings of wood and cement built after the Alpine fashion, lived in dustrious, healthy, and contented lives. The terrible calamity which has over- takei them did not come without warning. Indeed, the people of Elm are, in a measure, themselves responsi ble for the great trouble with which thev have been visited. This statement and" the causes which led to the destruc tion of the village may be briellv ex plained. For Tears past the inhabitants of the Sernf Valley havo found in tho extensive slate quarries of the Tschin gelalp or Plattcnberg one of their chief sources of revenue. As has already been stated, the berg or mountain in question rises to a height of several thousand feet just behind what was the village. It is composed, as the event has proved, of a loose, scaly material, exceedingly liable to crack and give way. Into the base of this crumbling and treacherous mountain the quarry men of Elm dug in former years with out any regard to the laws "of science or the simplest principles of engineer ing. Kecently they have been more cautions, but "their caution came too late. In a word, they cut away the foundations of the mountain, and at last, as a natural consequence, it ha3 fallen upon them. That here was some danger of a land-slide from the Plattenbcrg has long been known in Elm. W'rthin tbe past three or four months slight falls of stone and mud have been of frequent occurrence after heavy rains, yet the people never for a moment thought of leaving the beauti ful home to which they were so much at tached, and even experts who examined the mountain seem to have had no idea of the full extent of the danger to which they were exposed. So, in fancied security and entire ignorance of the awful fate which was in store for them, thev lived on. Meanwhile, the almost unparalleled rains of summer were slowly but sure ly completing the work which had been begun by the thoughtless or ignorant quarrymen scores of years ago. The end came on the evening of Sunday, September 11 in the "Saints Calen dar." current in some parts of Swit zerland, marked "The Day of Felix, saint of luck and happiness." During the early part of that day, the people of Elm went about their usual vocations in the usual way and without any antic ipation of the terrible calamitv which was so near at hand. The littfe church was well attended, hearty dinners were eaten, and afterward, as was the cus tom, most of the people, old and young, walked through the meadows or upon tbo mountain side. At five o'clock in the evening, while many of them were still out in the lieids, some one was heard crying: "Look at the Plattenbcrg the Plattenbcrg'." Those who followed the direction and who are still alive, say that for a moment it seemed to them as if every peak above tho slate quarry was in motion; then there' came a rumbling noise, like far off thunder, and in a moment they were blinded by clouds of dust. When thev could see again they fonnd that a great slice of earth and "stone had slipped down from the Tschingelalp, bun ing lino houses and covering acres of good land. Men and women were at the same time seen struggling among the ruins, and from all sides friends, neighbors and relatives hur ried to their aid. Unhappily, they hur ried also to a terrible death. Even while they were engaged in tneir work of love the mountain above them moved again. This time the sound of thunder was not far distant, but only too near at hand. The pine trees on the grassy slopes were seen to sink. A great cloud of dust aud steam covered the whole valley, thousands of tons of stone were hurled through tha sir. An all-overpowering wind-jiressuro carried evert thing before it; there was a hor rible crash, a sound of madly-rushing torrents; and all was still. Then the dust and smoke cleared away, the sun shone in a cloudless sky, and it was seen that, as far as the eye could reach, the once-blooming Sernf Valley was covered with from forty to one hun dred and sixty feot of black stone, moraine, dirt and slime. Forty dwelling-houses, the best in the t illage, to gether with dozens of stables and out- buildings, were buried far out of sight, I torn to pieces by the air-pressure, I strewn broadcast over the moraine. I One hundred and eleven of the people of Elm were swallowed np in the gen eral run. At least twelve strangers I Italian quanymen shared their fate. It was useless to thin1: of rescuing any who fell in that awful death slough. Far out upon its edge, from a strong hou-c, which was only partially covered with the slime and stone, four persons a graybeard of ninety-ono I years ana a moiiier with two cuiiuren were taken out badly injured, but alive. Every other human being over taken in the path of the avalanche was forever buried out of human sight. I Filteen lumps of torn and bleeding I flesh, masses of pulp without shape or , form, were taken out. The others rest l in a grave so deep and strong that no , man can uncover it. In one house tiiir ' teen persons who sat at a christening feast, and who are known to have joked with each other in regard to the old superstition about thirteen at a ta ble, were swallowed np as they sat. , On a lonely hillside, out of the way of danger, an old man and woman lived ' ..fi.t. ,lI. ....I.. c, (ftn. .1... ,!v- ni.u men umi svu 4&ib;t luc nisi slide of tho mountain the father anc. son hurried down to the help of their friends. They wero swallowed up with the rest. A childless widow, who has become a chattering idiot, now occu pies the lonely dwolling. Daughters who hurried to the help of their fathers, mothers who would have saved their children, lovers who strove to aid their brides, were together buried in the awful moraine. It is feared that t many of those who have been left be hind will share the fate of the poor creature who, mourning a husband and a son, has gone mad with sorrow. The extent of tho land-slip is almost beyond belief. To give anything like an adequate idea of it is no ea3y task. It is no way to be compared to the Golden slip of 1806. when, as it will be re membered, 457 pcoplo lost their lives. In the latter case the mountains slid down and covered tho village. At Elm a great mass of the Plattenbcrg, a mass 1.500 feet wide, at least 2,000 feet high above the vallov, and. accortlingto the engineers, from sixty to 100 feet deep, fell over upon the village, its farms, gardens and meadows. 'Jon; of rock were dashed entirely across the valley, and now rest quietlv 300 and 400 feet high upon the hillside. The air-pressure was so great that houses were lilted up from their foundations nd carried a distance of 1,000 feet. A barn built of heavy logs and filled with hay, was carried entirely across the valley and overturned 200 feet high on the mount ain opposite the Plattenberg. An iron bridge which crossed the Sernf was torn up, carried scores of feet away from its abutments, and now rests on end more than half buried in mud and loo-e stone. Tho whole valley, as far as it can be teen from the village inn, which is still standing, very closely resembles the bed of a glacier which has receded. As I havo already stated, tbe masses of stone and earth which have fallen are every where piled np to a height of very many feet. At least 500 acres are covered in this way. The River Sernf Jias made for itself a new channel through the debris, and has flooded and mined much of the land lelbw-IiniLwhlch was not direct r.harniid by' Ujf ava)lancho..,6f ,stont So. in onb way or another, 'tho whole; valley has been injured beond,all,hope of repair. The loss" in "property 'wilr reach not less than '2.0TO.0iV) francs; at the lowest Estimate 123 pvople have lost their lives. The State Kug-'ncwrs. fearing further land slide, havo for bidden those who have escaped to re turn to the houses which rema h stand ing, and in consequence more' than 800 men. women and children who, but a few days ago wero prosperous and well-to-do, are now almost withouta roof to cover them. Elm, (SicitzcrUnJ) Cor. R. r. Times. - What a Cheap Clear Will Do. The moral influence of a cigar Is greater than that of the finest speech delivered since tho days of the ltoman Republic. No man should set but on a jonrney without providing himself with at least fifty cheap cigars. 'I hoso, which can be bought for two cents each are just as good as those sold for a dime, and the gift of one is rewarded with just the samo courtesy. You are in a hurry to change trains and re-check baggage. The checkman doesn't care two cents whether you are left or not, and the chances are that you would be left but for the cigar. Edge up to him. drop tbe cigar into his lingers anil ask him to re-check you to Indianapolis and von are fixed in six seconds. Hours later, when he comos to sit down for a smoke, he may remember your phiz and bless it, but you are far away. The brakeman on a passenger train studies grutlhess. Von can't offer him money nor ask him out to take a glass of beer, but if you want to know exact ly how long you have to wait at Han over Junction, and how long It takes you to run from there to Washington, jusi tenner mm a iwo-ceni cigar, ill! cranite countenance will instantly melt aud run all over his face, and he will feel himself bound to not only answer all inquiries, but to tell you howtosavo two shillings in getting your supper at Quantice. Ticket agents in depots havo a stereo typed set of answers, and it almost breaks their necks to have a man coma along and ask something new. The cigar dodgo works beautifully on them. Approach them with a smile, extend the weed, and observe: "Say, old fellow, when do I leave here to make close connection with the Erie at Elmira?" Out comes his time-tables and rail way guide, and he'll not only fix you to a second, but give yon the population of every station on the road. A two cent cigar will stop any citizen of any city and make him feel happy to answer a dozen questions. It will direct ou to the best hotel, point out the best sights, make street-car conductors talk, give you the best seat in the omnibus, and a -complish all that gold or silver could do. No man should travel with out them, and tobacconists should make two brands for travelers. One brand should contain old rope, ragsand scraps of leather and be sold for a cent. This brand would be for officials who aro really good at heart, and whose sudden removal from earth would bring sorrow to large families. The other brand should havo a torpedo in the center, warranted to blow" out six teeth and drive tbe end of tho nose up at an angle of forty-five degrees. These could probably be sold for a cent and a half a-piece, and would be given out wherever it was deemed necessary to teach an official that civility toward travelers benefits a road far more than the busting of three trunks. Detroit tree Prtsi. Costly Weddings. Getting married in New York that is, getting married in anything like style costs money. A writer who has given the matter considerable study an nounces that in the city named a wed ding of 1,000 guests, with ushers and bridesmaids, exclusive of bridal dress and trousseau, ranges anywhere be tween 91,800 and 83,500. A thought ful father is said to have recently put his intended son-in-law up to eloping with his daughter on the express ground of economy. It is better to slide out into the rural districts where two dol lars will amply requite a Justice of tha Peace for tying the knot just as secure ly as it can be tied bv a priest in cler ical robes. It isn't near so ranch' trouble, either, to do this w it U to handle a large party of whits-kidded citizens of botfe sexes.