The Grenada sentinel. [volume], August 23, 1884, Image 7

About The Grenada sentinel. [volume] (Grenada, Miss.) 1868-1955

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THE SENTINEL.
J. W. BECHAKAN, Manager and Proprietor.
GRENADA, - - - MISSISSIPPI
THE DIFFERENCE.
In sombre mood I took up memory's fflasa
Aud backward glanced o'er flve-and-twenty
years.
I saw a laughing, happy child at play,
Her sunny tresses wreathed with flowerets
gay,
And eyes aa-low with mirth. That little lass
Was I, a quarter century since! Ah, nay!
If you but oouut their pain, their hurts, their
tears.
Those weary years are fifty, if a day.
Again I looked, with magic lens reversed,
And lo, so near that I might almost touch
K Her tossing curls, and hear her laughter
when
She chases butterflies through flowery
glen,
I saw the same wee lassie as at first.
My little self! How long is It since then?
What? Flve-and-twenty years 1 So much?
So much ?
No, no! Upon my word 'tis hardly ten!
Augusta D. Punn, in the Continent.
THE DREAM CLUE.
A Story of a strange Event.
Let me first ask—has the reader ever
attempted any psychological experi
ments, or sought to understand many
of those minor problems that spiritual
.science propounds, but does not reveal
to the material intellect?
In psychology we have the first great
principle which separates the human
from the mere animal, or it may be a
certain mysterioug degree which na
ture bestows on a chosen few of the
countless subjects of her animal king
dom to ipake a still higher elevation in
her ascending scale of progress that
reaches from protoplasm to this last
altitude.
psychology consists—how
closely allied its wonderful essence is
to that of life—where tho line may be
drawn that will properly divide materi
al existence from spiritual—all these
are mignias that the profound acumen
of many centuries has failed to eluci
date or particularly analyze. Why
may not psychology be a thing of vari
ous stages and gradual developments?
On every hand we easily perceive a
similar ratio of degrees, from the tiny
seed to the great world which urges it
to a perfect maturity, and which ma
turity the world itself has spent un
numbered ages in striving to attain.
It is not so difficult to consider that the
strictly animal creation embraces but a
lower stage of psychological develop
ment, though as varied in its peculiar
phases of advancement as the higher
order, which includes man, is in its re
spective and unequal distribution of
soul power and intelligence.
The reader who has never seriously
debated these questions, will doubt
less regard this Btory as one of un
questionable impossibility— nay, as
even absurd; however, as this may be,
the story is as follows:
Some autumns ago I had occasion to
travel through Central Kentucky, and
as, in addition to my business, I had a
proposed improvement of my health
under consideration, I chose the saddle
rather than a vehicle or train, deeming
this method of locomotion more condu
cive to tho desired effect, and there be
ing also in my selected route some
£ oints only accessible in this manner.
hiring the tirstfew days of my journey
tho weather was all that could be de
sired, even of this charming season of
hazy atmosphere, indolent sunshine and
gorgeous colorings; but with the fickle
ness for which this latitude is noted, a
fair morning, unsullied by a single sus
picion of aught save loveliness, unless
it was a warmer and more languid air,
grew slowly into a cloudy noon, fraught
with a chilling wind, and finally merg#d
into an evening black with ominous
clouds and threatening rain. I was
anxious to reach my objective
but tho storm seemed so near at
while tho village I desired to roach yet
lay several miles away, that I consid
ered it a wiser thing to cast about for a
speedy shelter. This portion of the
country was but sparsely settled, and
as a few premonitory drops of rain ad
vised me to make a hasty decision.
I urged my horse forward and stopped
at the first honse along my way. It
was a small and rather unpreposses
sing dwelling, built of stone, and placed
a little way off tho road at tho end of a
long avenue of untrimmed and funeral
looking cedars.
At my request for a night's lodging
the host—a plain, practical farmer
assured me of a hospitable reception,
provided I folt willing to accept
limited accommodation he could offer.
Of what
point;
hand,
the
His house was, as I could see, quite a
small one, and he had already taken in
a wayfarer from the approaching storm,
scarcely a quarter of an hour bofore.
I hastened to slate that so long as I was
comfortably housed I would be abun
dantly satisfied, and at once alighted.
My precaution in seeking a shelter
was not premature, for scarcely had my
horse been stabled and my own comfort
secured than the rain and wind held
high carnival about the place, dashing
angrily against the small panes of glass
in the narrow windows, and beating
against the doors as if they envied the
cosiness within and meant to forco an
unwelcome entrance.
My fellow-traveler I found to be a
man of ordinary agvceahleness, al
though his efforts in that direction de
served a better success than they at
tained. Why this was, I could not fully
determine, although I attempted to
analyze the feeling, as I had frequently
questioned similar impressions previ
ously.
He was talkative and sufficiently so
cial, and of medium intelligence, yet
there was a something, a vague, indefi
nite conception that did not allow mo to
entertain either an indifferent or per
fectly harmonious feeling toward him.
There was a latent quality in his com
position that created a certain discord
in my own. Such impressions are not
unfamiliar to me. Most of my friend
ships, most of my dislikes, spring from
this divination. In passing persons to
tally unknown in a Crowded street, I
have sometimes felt strange sentiments
of attraction or repulsion.
In following up these swift impres
sions as is occasionally the case, I have
rarely found myself at fault. Either
admirable qualities to win approbation,
•or obnoxious ones to create dislike,
were discovered ov a oloser aoquaint
ance. I have seldom had occasion to
alter the first impression, be it of friend
ship, indifference or dislike.
During the general conversation, I
learned that my fellow-traveler was a
Mr. Jacob Lagrew, from an adjoining
county, who was then out from borne
for the purpose of buying cattle, in
which he largely dealt. As my host
was also more interested and better in
formed on that subject than on most
others, the talk naturally drifted in the
direction of cattle traffic and matters
pertaining thoreto, while I, being little
acquainted with this especial topic,
listened and interrogated as occasion de
manded.
After an early supper, during which
the thrifty housewife gave us plain but
well-prepared food, we talked on gen
eral questions for an hour or so, when
our host signified his readiness to show
us to our s
his motion
with an apology for the necessary early
habits he had formed in his role of
farmer, while we both assured him that
after our respective long rides the prop
position met with our entire approval,
and that we were quite ready to act
upon it.
As our host's accommodations were
limited, my lately-made acquaintance
and I became not only room-mates but
bed-fellows, and shortly after our host
had bidden us good-night, my com
panion's nasal organ proclaimed that
he slumbered. 1 had inadvertently
taken a cup of strong coffee for supper,
and now remembered, although too
late for practical benefit, that it invari
ably excited my brain and nerves
to an unpleasant degree where
slee
rest
eeping apartment, prefixing
for adjournment thus soon
was coveted. 80 I lay
awake for several hours,
striving to wear off the effects of this
light stimulant sufficiently to close my
eyes in restful slumber. At last there
came a semi-obliviousncss.
Whether it might be correctly called
a sleep I cannot say, even at this late
day. I seemed to be quite conscious
at first of my whereabouts, and of the
various circumstances that had given
me my present quarters and room-mate,
who still slept at my side, yet gradually
out of the darkness of the room a
strange scene was evolved.
1 saw a mountainous stretch of
country; great boulders hurled about
by superhuman Strength, strewed the
foreground, in the middle distance
aroso a wall of rugged, time-worn
rocks, while far above this jagged line
a long range of snow-cappeil peaks
towered heavenward. Descending a
rocky defile, aud in the shadow of the
high-towering wall, were to be seen
two travelers, mounted on low but
muscular and sure-footed donkeys,
much used in such localities. Beyond
these four living objeots, no other signs
of life were visible. It was a spot of
great loneliness and solitude.
The travelers were habited in the
rude, coarse costumes suited to a life
amid these wild scenes, while the great,
wide-brimmed hats they wore con
cealed their features from my scrutiny.
When they had advanced still nearer,
one of the riders paused, and pointed
forward.
p w
iessly
I followed with my eye the direction
he indicated, and saw where a small
stream spouted from the crevice of an
adjacent cliff - , forming a little pool of
sparkling beantv at its base, then
wound in and out, like a sheeny ribbon,
among the loose stones, until finally
lost to view. The two travelers rode
to where the spring gushed forth, and
both dismounted.
While one busied himself about the
saddle of his trusty animal, the other
came to the spring and laid aside his
sheltering hat. It was then I saw his
features for the first time. His face was
a pleasant one, not handsome, but agree
able to the eye, for a genial, kind nature
was discoverable in its lineaments.
His complexion seemed much em
browned by out-of-door life and ex
posure to wind and sun A large mole
just to the right of his nose, a little
above the heavy mustache, gave a pe
culiar emphasis to his features, and
impressed still more distinctly on my
mind his countenance, which was that
of an entire stranger. Carelessly run
ning his hand through his matted black
hair, and tossing it back from his
heated brow, he Knelt and began to
drink from tho crystal pool at his feet.
By this time his companion had reached
his side, and as the one stooped to
quench his thirst the other gave a swift,
searching glance around, then quickly
drew from its leather casing a gleam
ing pistol and placed it at the bended
head of the unsuspecting victim.
As the murderous intent of the vil
lain Hashed across my brain, I instantly
sought to cry out in warning tones to
his helpless and innocent companion ;
but a strango numbness seemed to
overpower me, and seal my lips. I
could make no sound.
I strove to close my eyes, and shut
out the fearful sight, so soon to be en
acted, yet the same strange power,
seeming to hold my will in abeyance,
kept them unclosed. There was a Hash,
a curl of smoke, and with a shudder of
horror I saw the helpless prey fall for
ward into the clear pool, which grow
crimson with the life-blood dyeing its
purity.
After another searching glanoo, the
author of this foul deed of blackness
gathered up the still warm body of his
victim, and carrying it to a crevice, or
natural niche in the cliff not far away,
thrust it in, androlledsome heavystonos
to close the aperture and hide his
murderous work from human ken; then,
go in o' to tho mule his companion had
but lately ridden, he removed two
ighty bags of leather that were par
tially concealed under the saddle and
placed them under the skirts of his own.
Avarice had prompted the atrocious
wei
act.
Again approaching the spring, he
carefully washed his hands under the
slender, falling stream, and then re
moved his wide-brimmed hat, as the
other hod done, and bent to drink. As
he regained his upright position his face
was turned full toward me. I gazed,
spellbound with astonished awe.
was the face of the man who now slept at
mi/ side!
1 bent my closest scrutiny upon him,
thinking it might be a trick of the im
agination; buta careful inspection con
vinced me of the identity. The face
a little younger and more sun
browned than that of the man beside
me: but it was the self-same face. The
It
was
difference was only that which a few
years' time and a little less exposure to
the weather would necessarily occasion.
At this juncture a fearful clap of thun
der seemed to shake the mountains, fol
lowed by the stentorian tones of some
huge giant, calling with a loud voice.
In an instant the scene vanished—the
waters, the frowning cliffs, the patient
donkeys, the bubbling spring, even the
guilty man, with his bloody secret se
curely locked in his cruel bosom—all
crumbled into utter nothingness. Did
I say all—no, not all—the faee still re
mained. When I opened my eyes it
was bending over me, haggard and pale
in the dim morning light; but less sin
ister than when I so intently regarded
it a few- moments previous.
For a brief space I was startled and
bewildered, then with a swift glance
around I recognized the simple furni
ture of the room, and at once compre
hended that I was still under the roof
which had afforded me shelter from the
storms of the previous evening.
"Our host has remembered my re
quest to call me early," said my com
panion; "I thought ho intended to' beat
down the door. Didn't it startle you?"
"It certainly did," 1 answered; "but
I reallv forgive him, as it put en end to
a most unpleasant dream that was
haunting my sleep."
My companion gave a little start and
looked at me closely.
"Were you dreaming, too?" he asked,
in a voice grown suddenly husky. "It
interrupted a dream for me "also—a
cursed one!" he cried out savagely.
"Bah! Whv should I recall it? Dreams
signify nothing."
He ended with a loud, defiant laugh,
while the words which arose to my lips
in explanation of my own strange vision
remained unspoken.
My room-mate made a hasty toilet,
and loft before breakfast, saying he
wished to reajh a distant point during
the day.
When I asked a few indirect ques
tions of my host concerning the past
history of his recent guest, I found he
could give no especial information on
the subject; but suggested that as the
person in question resided near tho
town which formed the present termi
nus of my journey, I might doubtless
gain any information I desired to ob
tain from those who were in neighborly
relations with him. So far as he knew,
bo was a most excellent gen lie no an.
In addition to some business matters
which-called me to this town, my fa
ther had requested me to make in
quiries concerning an old friend of his
who resided there when he last hoard
from him some years previous, and if
still living, to make myself known, as
sured of a warm welcome.
a
a
About noon I reached my destination,
a pretty town, somewhat scattered and
rather quaint in its architectural fea
tures, but nevertheless pleasing to the
eye.
On asking for John Boyd—my fa
ther's old friend—I was directed to a
certain office, and presenting myself
there, was mot by a pleasant young fel
low, somewhat younger than myself,
and whose features gave me a perplex
ing remembrance of some faee I had
once known or seen, though where or
under what eircemstances I could not
possibly recall. Still I was strangely
impressed with the familiarity of form
and expression.
I signilied that I was in search of a
John Boyd. The young fellow as
sured me with a pleasant smile that I
had not mistaken the man. "He stood
before me."
With a responsive smile I ventured
the assertion "that I must surely be in
error, or else the secret of perpetual
youth had been entrusted to his keep
ing, as the John Boyd I sought had
been an old friend of my fathers in his
younger days, a period too far remoto
In the past for supposition to render
him identical with the one now before
me."
At these words his smile gave place
to a more serious expression.
"Ho was probably my father's
friend," ho said, simply. "My father
has been dead for several years."
Seeing that the subject was even yet
a painful one, I at once turned the con
versation to other matters, and we were
soon earnestly engaged in discussing
current topics of a more cheerful na
ture.
ft was only as I was about to take my
leave that I again referred to his fa
ther's death* expressing my own regret
and the assurance of my father's sincere
sorrow when he should learn of it.
Mr.
to
;
to
I
"It has now been somo twelve years
since his death, and the circumstances
attending it were peculiarly sad," young
John Boyd replied. "My father had
been in the West, prospecting for a year
or more, and in company with a friend
and comrade started qu his homeward
way. They were lost in the wilds
of the trackless forest, and at last,
in trying to discover a trail, by
means of which civilization might once
more be reached, they by some fatality
became separated. My father's fate
remains to this day a sorrowful mystery.
His companion, after many perils and
privations, finally made his way baok
to anxious and expectant friends, and
after learning that no tidings of my
father had been received, he magnan
imonsly retraced his steps, guiding an
exploring party,'who sought long, but
in vain, for any traces gf the lost one."
Before young Boyd hail finished his
narrative I regarded him with the
keenest interest. The strange impres
sion of unaccountable resemblance I
first' experienced grow rapidly into a
strong conviction.
Tho voung John Boyd 1 now saw
was but a counterpart of the elder
John Boyd, whom I had seen in my
dream. Even the mole to tho right of
the nose, though smaller and less con
spicuous, was not lacking.
How strange that I had not at once
discovered the likeness, which now
Hashed upon me like a startling revela
tion. Involuntarily I atkod a question,
yet feeling that 1 already knew the
answer.
"Who was your father's companion
on this fatal journey?"
"A Mr. Jacob Lagrew, who yet
lives near here. He is a successful
cattle trader, and has been very kind'
to me on numerous occasions. Tho
friendship he bore my father doubtless
prompts nir.i to these acts."
I shuddered
were so
terrible v
at these words; they
gratefully spoken, and the
ision of the past night was so
*
clearly defined upon my vet retentive
memory. Still what could be said or
done?
Was the dream clue sufficient proot
for an accusation? My calmer judg
ment told me that assuredly it was not.
Positive as were my own convictions,
I had no visible grounds upton which to
build my imputations. For proof I had
only the strange vision of a restless
Dight.
A thousand conflicting thoughts per
f lexed me; but oven in my uncertainty
felt that I must carefully consider the
matter and weigh well my actions. To
this end I bade good evening to my
young friend, promising to drop in
again on the morrow, as my business
would detain me until then and per
haps even later. I spent the remainder
of the day and much of the night in
pondering over the strange events
brought about the last few hours. At
one moment I had resolved on a cer
tain course of action; the next 1 was
at a loss as to the best
procedure. I adopted, ap
parently perfected, then abandoned as
unfeasible, a dozen different plans. My
excited brain would suggost an imme
diate revelation to young John Boyd,
followed by cooler dictation which
inquired into the efficacy,of such
a course, and advanced the conflicting
argument that this act would bring only
additional unhappiness to him, without
the means of substantiating the veraci
ty of my words.
The thought came to me to boldly
confront the guilty man with a revela
tion of his secret crime, and wring a
confession from him by the swiftness
of my denunciation; but, then, what
if his craftiness should aid him and put
him on his guard while he demanded
F roof or witness of me? In that case
would be helpless. On the following
morning I was still lost in a sea of
doubt, and in this state of uncertainty
and indecision I once more found my-i
self face to face wfith young John Boyd.
I noticed a buggy 1 standing before his
office, and when I reached the door I
found him with hat and gloves on, pre
paring to go out.
"Are you on a trip?" lasted, pausing
on the threshold, and -declining his
kindly extended invitation to enter.
"Yes, a short one, he answered, "and
not a very pleasant one, I fear. I have
just learned that Mr. Lagrew was
thrown from his horse early this morn
ing, and is seriously injured. I thought
I would go out and learn the particu
lars, and also see if loan be of any serv
. By the way, suppose you ride
t with me? I should like your com
pany, and besides, if there is any neces
sity for my remaining, you can return
with the buggy."
"If my presence will in no wise in
convenience you I will gladly accept
your offer," I responded.
Perhaps this was the solution- of the
problem that had so perplexed
"Not in the least, he made answer.
"I shall be glad to have you go." And
I went.
On our arrival we were shocked to
learn that Mr. Lagrew had expired but
little while before. His fall had
caused an internal hemorrhage, which
speedily terminated in death. Scarcely
less surprising was the information that
he had made young John Boyd his sole
heir and legatee.
This latter information I more read
ily comprehended than did my compan
ion, who was apparently stunned by
the intelligence.
To him it was an overwhelming act
of magnanimity on the part of the dead
man; to me it was the only possiblo
restitution of ill-gotten wealth which
the guilty could make to the injured
living. And as 1 looked once more on
the face, now calm and impassive,
which had so short a time before moved
me with horror af the evil it concealed,
I resolved that the terrible secret bu
riod in that lifeless bosom should sleep
until a higher tribunal than earth's
should awaken it.
With this resolve I turned resolutely
away from the dead man and from the
sorrowing young fellow who bent above
him with tear-dimmed eyes.
The scone touched me strangely, as
I alone, of all men living, realized the
anomalous fact that young John Boyd,
though a loving, affectionate son, be
moaned his father's murderer.— Henry
C. Wood, in, The Continent.
mpleteiy
method of
(-<>
ioe
me.
a
a
I
a
The Mediteval Market-Place.
The medieval market-place, whether
of England, or France, or Germany, or
Belgium, or Holland, or Italy, or
Spain, appears to have played very
much the same part in tho daily life oi
tho citizen that the
plays to-day. The news
men's blood, which stung them to
action, which delighted or appalled or
interested, emanated from the market
place. 'The special correspondent was
there in the shape of the herald or mes
senger with news from home or abroad;
the "society man" was there with his
last bit of back-stair news or ale-house
gossip, or his tale of the lastgreat crime
or disaster. If a man wanted a situa
tion, or a servant, or a house, he went
to the market-place; if ho wanted to
show off a new suit of clothes, he went
there; if he wanted to hear the last
musical piece or the last theatrical
news, lie wont there; if he wished to
advertise, he went there; printed books
wore rare and costly, so that popular
fiction was to be heard at the stall of
the public story-teller; finally, the
marmot-place was the exchange, the
counting-house, and the shop combined.
The popular hero received his triumph
there, the criminal received his deserts
there; in short, whatever interested the
public mind radiated from the market
place; and when the public voice was
raised, it was from there. The doges,
the secret tribunals, tho despots, the in
quisitors, feared plots that were hatched
on the public place far moro than those
which were concerted privily in out-of
the-way nooks and corners; and the
tyrant, who turned a deaf ear to the ap
peal or remonstrance which came from
a single house or a single street, found
it true policy to face forbearingly tho
clamor of a market-place crowd. A
sudden, well-directed
I
a
newspaper press
rs which stirred
swoop might
crush the plot of the back room, but to
defy tho market-place meant to defy the
people.— London Globe.
—California Indians living near the
foot ot the Sierras have learned to
make bread from aeorns.
MISCELLANEOUS.
—The first brick building in Cincm.
nati was the St. Clair House, built in
1806, of briok brought from Pittsburgh,
and is still standing upon Main Street,
between Seventh and Eighth.— Cincin
nati Times.
—Southey records in his Common
place Book that a physician who had
seou more than 40,000 cases of small
pox said he had never met with the dis
ease in a person with red or light flaxen
hair.
—Geologists assert that if the conti
nents and the bottom of the ocean
were graded down to a uniform level,
the whole world would be covered with
water a mile deep. It is to be hoped
that this theory will be accepted with
out attempting any practical demon
stration of its truth.— Chicago Times.
—Dio Lewis reaches the conclusion
that consumption is found in every cli
mate. Inhabitants of the frozen regions
and those who live under the equatot
die of consumption. As to the United
States, there is no doubt that New En
gland has the largest ration of mortal
ity from consumption. But the differ
ence is slight.
—The reasons for Hindoo loyalty to
the British Government are set forth
by a native journal, which thus ex
plains why English is to be preferred
to Russian rule; "When the English
came into India they first began to
plunder the country, but now they are
satiated. If the Russians now come,
they must come very hungry. The
Hindoos are an intelligent race, and
they would prefer a boa which is sati
ated to a hungry black snake, though
the former may be the larger.
—Mary Howell, aged nineteen, owns
the stage route between Warwick, N.
Y., ana Bell vale, N. J., and drives the
stage herself. A few days ago, on her
way.to Warwick, her horses were con
fronted by a large rattlesnake that lay
coiled in the road and showed no dis
position to retreat, Miss Howell stopped
her team, jumped from her seat on the
stage, and beat the u
gly serpent to
death with her whip. She then tore ofl
the rattles and brought them to War
wick as a trophy.— S. ¥. Star.
is presumptuous even for hardy,
good swimmers to strike out in cold
water on a hot day for a long swim.
This is frequently done, and friends are
all amazed to see their good swimmei
suddenly become powerless and go
down. The secret of this sudden disa
bility and death is that the long chili
sends tho surface blood inward and
maintains it there so long that conges
tion of some vital organ takes place,
and the swimmer becomes paralyzed,
faint, powerless and sinks.— Exchange.
—There is a circular railway at At
lantic City, with very steep and qbrupl
grades, so that the passengers experi
ence the ups and downs of travel over
the Rooky Mountains condensed into a
few Tods.' It is in the form of an ellipse,
reaching from the street down to the
surf. "Only five cents for a ride to the
beach," says the solicitor. But when
the tourist arrives at the shore end oi
the route he is told that he must pay a
nickel moro for getting back, or walk
through the %and.—N. Y. Sun.
—The story is told that while General
Sherman was accompanying President
Hayes on a visit to New England he at
tended a reception inacertain town, and
a good old lady, who in her simple way
was doing what she could to make ll
ileasant for everybody, ambled up to
jim and, after a few formal common
place remarks, suddenly asked in a most
complacent way: "Are you the General
who was in the army during the war?"
Old Tecumseh was astounded, and,
looking at the woman for a moment,
and, seeing that she was serene and in
nocent of any attempt at impertinence,
responded quietly: "Read history,
Madame; read history."— Albany Jour
nat.
—It
—William Anderson, of Schenectady,
N. Y., xvhiie walking along a street in
that city, was surprised to hear a boy
shouting "Papa!" and to see a woman
hurry from a house in the vicinity and
run toward himself. Anderson's aston
ishment was complete when the wo
man, reaching him, threw her arms
about his neck and between a shower
of kisses exclaimed: "My darling
William! My dear husband!" He
finally convinced the excited female
that she had madg a mistake, which
she reluctantly admitted. The woman
twelve years ago married William The
lan, who enlisted in the army, and had
since been missing. Anderson bears a
close resemblance to Thelan, and she
supposed ho was her long-lost husband.
—Troy Times.
oi
to
of
A
An Egyptian City.
Cario is 180 miles from Alexandria.
It is tho largest city in Africa, and sec
ond largest in the Turkish Empire—
Constantinople leading it. Its present
population numbers about half a mil
lion. The old town is oriental through
and through. The average Yankee is
more interested in tho street scenes in
the old town than tho many wqpderful
monuments to the greatness ortho dy
nasties, witli which the city is sur
rounded. The streets are narrow,
crooked and dirtv, filled with camels,
donkeys, dogs that never get out oi
your wav, noisy boys and swearing
men, and lined with shops, or bazaars,
as they are called, where all sorts of
odd things are sold by the lazy Turk
who sits cross-legged in the midst o f
them. I can easily imagine that the
Cairo of to-day is not that of fifty years
ago. Tho present Khedive has been a
progressive man. Many western ideas
and inventions have been introduced
in the countrv by him. The common
mode of threshing wheat is by treading
it out with cattle, as in Scripture times;
but I saw a steam threshing machine hi
work on my way here lrom Alexandria;
numerous steam engines at work pump
ing water, and several wheat drills.
The railway trains look very odd, but
they have the Westinghouse air-brake
on them. Telephones are in use in this
city. Tho bridge over the Nile her# i*
a massive modern iron structure. New
Cairo, the work of tho jthedive, is well
laid off with broad streets, well paved,
lined with well-built houses, and orna
mented with shade trees and numerous
fountains, and
than the streets
Indianapolis Journal.
better lighted by ga*
of Indianapolis.— Cor.
=»
' .■
Temperance Beading.
?
Alcohol Destroys Digestion.
Omitting all reference to the mqntal
Mid moralravages of intemperance, it
would require a lifetime to recount tho
pains and aches, the malignant diseases
induced bv the demon intemperance.
We have already seen that all alcoholic
liquors impair, retard and complicate
digestion, always and everywhere, both
in the case of the sick and the well,
thus preventing the normal and full
nourishment of tho system. Some of
the robust may endure this for a time,
but tho sick may safely ovoid all com- •
binations of it, in the matter of diges
tion, as they need all of the strength
possible, that they may resist the In.
roads of disease. It always and every
where wastes power—never generating
any—prevents the renovation of the
blood, the whole body, increases the
labors of the heart, by which it must
weaken that organ, deranges the brain #
and nerves, vitiates the blood and all of
the digestive juices, none of which ef
fects are favorable to even the robust, '
while none of the sick can tolerate any
such antagonistic agencies.
The action of alcohol—as a drink,
medicine or a bath—is always in the
of paralysis. Let this thought be
emphasized; it always and everywhere
tends to benumb, derange and eventu
ally impair and destroy the sensibilities.
In illustration, observe the "rum-blos
of the drunkard, the red and en
The blood vessels are. so ^ ■
line
%
som
larged nose,
paralyzed that they can not perform
their ordinary labors, from which fact,
In consequence of their relaxed state,
ed on, the vessel
at particular pl^oes
the blood is not nr,
becoming engorgec
—in the face, more especially—the ac
cumulation and engorgement increas
ing the size of the nose, red enough to
serve as a warning—like a light-house—
guard the young from being wrecked
on the hidden rocks of drunkenness!
The intense red color of the drunkard's
brain is produced in precisely the same
way as that of the nose, namely paral
ysis of the nerves which control the cir
culation of this part of the body. Wlipn
the drunkard's face and nose are red
dened, or blushing under the influence
of alcohol, the brain blushes, The same
may be said also of the lungs, .the stom
ach, the liver, the kidneys and other
structures of his bodv. His whole phys
ical being blushes with shame for the
outrage against nature. In consequence
of this intense congestion, and the fact
that it receives one-iifth of all the blood
in the body, the brain participates more
than any other organ in the body ex
cept the liver, in the injury wrought by
the "demon drink." As before men
tioned, it sometimes becomes hardened
to such a degree evon during life that it
can be readily distinguished from t
■healthy brain by the sense of touch alone.
For this reason no function of the
system can be carried on in its normal
condition, doing its legitimate labor or
office. The brain, therefore, thus,
robbed of its normal energies, by a par
tial paralysis, is nnable intelligently to
superintend the running of this wonder
ful machine, "fearfully and wonderful
ly made," while the semi-paralyzed •.
nerves, losing a part of their vital torce,.
fail to keep up the telegraphic commu
nication between the brain and all parts
of the body, which harmony demands.
The heart—occupying the position oi'
the prime motor—enervated by a fear
ful increase of toils by the use of alco
holic stimulants, (goads) laboring under
serious disadvantages, must fail to per
form its part of the system—labor, just
to that extent failing to convey nourish
ment to all parts of the body, as well
failing in gathering up the waste and
poisonous parts, conveying them to the
lungs for renovation, purification. A
failure here is but another name for
universal failure! If the stomach is not
nourished and stimulated by pure blood,
it must to that extent bo unable to so
transform the food into blood as to im
poverish the whole system. There
must be a general absence of Vital force,
the supplies being cut off, partially, and
the renovating and purifying forces
suffering to the same extent. Alcohol
is a "two-edged sword,!' fearfully de
stroying the vital forces. It attacks
bot.li directly and indirectly, first re
ducing tlie power of all of the organs of
tho body, then indirectly aggravating
the evils by reducing their nourishment,
bv impairing digestion. This is an apt
illustration of the Bible assertion that
"if one member suffers, all will suffer
with it ."—Golden Rule.
to
a
.
as
The Saloon and Society
The saloon is an institution which
makes the poor poorer continually. U
only half the expenditure of the wage
earning classes upon drink wore saved
tho elevation of those classes would pro
ceed by leaps and bounds. The saloon,
however, is ever lying in wait for the
weak or the social wage-earner. In this
freut city, op any of the main avenues, .
je can not walk a block without passing
a manufactory of misery. At every
turn the purvevor of drink entices him, .
gets between him and his family, be
tween him and his manhood, between
him and his happiness. The pervading
influence of rum pursues the slaves of
appetite unceasingly, and makes their
lives a constant struggle or a succession
of disastrous falls.
This subtle, prevalent influence is the
bitterest curse that rests upon modern
civilization, an,d it will destroy civiliza
tion if it is not itself destroyed. For
the discontent, the anarchio tendencies,
the seditious doctrines, the dangerous
dispositions that are manifesting in cen
ters of population, together with the
vices of administration which alarm the
thoughtful, and the difficulties in the
way of reform, which are due to the in
tractability of the material dealt with—i
a'l have their spring and origin in that,
habit of drinking, that potent drink in
fluence, which baffles the enthusiasm of!
the reformer and laughs to scorn the
appeals of religion, of reason and of
self-respect. This evil influence is de
grading and brutalizing society, and
progress will be glow and unsatisfactory
until a public opinion is formed which
refuses to palter with the abuse longer.
—N. Y. Tribune.
—In Cleveland a cow choked on a big
carrot and was about ready to kick the
milk bucket when an intelligent dog
ran to the house and by barking and.
other strange antics called his master to
the stable in time to savgthe cow's life.'
—Cleveland leader.
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