Sterling Standard from Sterling, Illinois on April 8, 1897 · Page 11
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Sterling Standard from Sterling, Illinois · Page 11

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Thursday, April 8, 1897
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TKft A NS'CORNER. CSOOO SHORT STORIES POR OLD SOLDIERS. AMI. Grunt'* Tea««sr Greftlngr—WMt* on , Bf* Rfcttf JB tfca WIldcroM* the Great C0BHn*a4«r Stopped to Talk with B WCB this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, , Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, And Hery hearts arid , armed hands ; EncounterM In the battle- cloud. never shall the land forget , How, gush'd the life-Wood of her brave— . .• 'Guah'd, .warm with hope and courage - yet, Upon the soil they fought to save. , all IB calm, .and fresh, and still: lone the chirp of flfttlng bird, talk of children on the hill, d bell of wandering klne are heard. &6 solemn host goes trailing by The- black-mouth'd gun and stagger* Ingr wain; • Men Btart not at the battle-cry: O! be It never heard again. Soon rested those who fought; but thou Who mlnglest In the harder strife Pw truths which men receive not now. , Thy warfare only, ends with life. ' . friendlesu warfare! lingering long A. Th'ousn weary A& y an ? weary year . TA. wild and many-weapon'd throng Hang on. thy front, and flank, and rear* -,••-.. ,Tet, nerve thy spirit to the proof, _ Anfl blench not at thy chosen lot. The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown— yet faint thou not> ;"•".'• '•' ' , • • or heed the shaft too surely cast, The hlsslngr, stinging bolt of scorn; or with thy side shall dwell, at last. The victory of endurance born. £<. earth, '- Bholl rise \\ ' •i'~ V- ?• IP, lit 61 Truth, cruah'd to ;, - a^oln: Vhe eternal years of God are hers; . 5 r l or ' Bounded, writhes with pain. - Ana dlea among his worshipers. Yea, though thou He upon the dust When they who help'd .thee flee In fear,. . • -'•• . . J>ie t all of hope and nianly trust, Like thooe who fell In battle here. Another hand thy sword shall wield, Another hand'the standard-wave r M t l ie J 1 ?? 1 *" 51 ' 8 mouth is peal'd blast of triumph o'er thy grave. —Bryant. t Gen. Grant's.Tender Greeting. Told by Hamlin Garland: It was midday in^the. battle of tho Wilderness, and a small teamster of 17'tfaa Standing"'beside "his wagon near (km. headquarters and close.to tho , . hurried and troubled surgeons, /who were lopping limbs' from faint soldiers in blue. All the horrors of battle were there centered; rlll& of.blood, Stacks of livid limbs, rows of suffering bodies, tor^i and mangled. One by one the blue-clad men were lifted to a , rough table; a, keen knife slit sleeve or pantaloons, the sponge swung to the nostrils, the knife blade fell upon the .•flesh; the saw lollowed. A few moments of rapid work and the subject, • Inanimate as .wood, was laid aside to make room on the bed of slaughter for & comrade.: The young teamste'r stood there waiting for his wagon load of Human tpraoa, feeling, all the horror, • all the benumbing terror of the battle. He could hear the dread continuous thunder to the front, and could see the ' smoke rising like a cloud' above.the lotteries of crouching cannon, unseen" but savage. Home, seemed as far away as heaven to-the boy, and th.o world • appeared to bfe given up to slaughter ^ and to dying men. Standing so, tie saw -»'horeeman approaching and forgot for ;tne moment his terror by reason of his •; admiration for the horse and his rider. ; The horse had a swift, steady rack, and as he came.his burnished neck and forearms seemed to"flaslji in the light. His rider sat him gloriously, the reins in his left hand, guiding as if by force of habit. He appeared not to know the horse was moving. He descended fallows, leaped furrows, skirted banks, yet the rider sat hia saddle, careless, secure, graceful and erect, His intro' apective eyes fell upon .the boy, and fee drew his horse almost to a walk. He WM a careworn man, dressed in a plain 4>lue blouse, much faded, and his bat • was eg'ually weather-beaten. . His face ,rwaa'pensive, grave and unyielding as F *"& granite mask; The boy thrilled with • excitement and/awe and .worshipful ad/ miration, He knew- this-sad-faced, v careless, splendid rider to be the great commander. In Gen. Grant's eyes , JIashed a sudden look of pity an,d hor- »*-"or. AS he passed he said: . •;' '...-=.. , "Sonny, what, are you doing here?" He swept on, but his tender paternal cadence of voice and his sad, sad face the hoy never forgot. • • • , " Once, lOBg after, whea the,_boy was a middle-aged man, and the general had , been twice president of the '.Uutted '{; gt&tea, 'they ; met In the midst of a '** throng of people 'the commander stood ' »d the civyian said: - - • "I saw ypu once before, general. It s .at the Wilderness*. You passed r ^._ on horaeback, and you., said, 'So»uy, what are you dping here?' """ • The general's impressive lace dark- with the memory of!'.th]at terrible then a slow smile crept round his and eyes. •••• '. ."•-';, >.',,::' .'•'.'• ; , "I recollect you," be said. "But I iids'fr suppose yott'd remember me." tfe» Story toucWag tfce frrm tM m^s to s. *is C3pfa!nc,v, gays the Spring- fteld Rep«blka,n. The wife was a Perns- tylvanla girl whom he batl met whH visiting In the north, had married and taken to hia southern home jtist before the breaking out of ,tho war. He was one of the first to enlist In the confederate army; and to devote himself more completely to the cause he sent his wife, at the first boom of the guns at Fort Sum tor, back to her parents In Pennsylvania, to remain till the great struggle was ended. Now, In 1866, five years after their separation, she was on her way south to rejoin her husband and place In'his: anna their four-year-old daughter, whom h« had never seen. . it was not long before all the passengers on our car ;knew ther Btory, and there WBB not a man among U.B who did not feel a tenderness for and a protecting; Interest In both- There never was a woman whose heart was mora full of love and Joy, She could do nothing but talk of the captain andrwonder If h9 had changed fib that ehe could not recognize him, or If he would not be able to recognize her. Then she would fall to wondering if he would know his little daughter If h*e met her In the street by her teae blance to himself, which, as he had never set eyes on her, did not seem probable. Throughout that long day's rjde we entered heartily Into that dear little woman's hopes, fears, doubts and .Joys and shared them to such on ex- tlrat that we were quite as anxious to B«e the captain aa she was. We reached our Journey's end and before the train had fairly stopped, a tall; elegantly proportioned fellow of 27 came bounding Into our car. The little woman gave such a scream of Joy as I can never forget, and in less time than I can tell it was standing in the car aisle clasped In the young soldier's manly arms, and tears of Joy unutterable coursed down two beautiful young faces as their lips met. For my own part,_my_own_eye8 were BO full of blinding moisture that I could see nothing when the proud and happy young wife and mother led Jier husband for the first time to the place where their little child.lay sleeping. "klbeler of tho Pregg." The battle of Cold Harbor is the subject of General Horace Porter's "Campaigning swith Grant"'in the current Century. General Porter relates the following anecdote In this number: General Meade had been untiring in his efforts during this eventful week. He was General Grant's senior by seven years, was older than any of the corps commanders, and was naturally of an excitable temperament, and with the continual annoyances to which he was subjected he not Infrequently became quite irritable. He was greatly disturbed at this time by some newspaper.'-reports, stating that on the second night of the battle of the Wilderness-be had advised a retreat across the Rapldan; and in talking this mat- ter'over with General Graat, his indignation became so great that his wrath knew no bounds. He said that the rumor had been circulated through the prees, and would be believed by many of the people, and perhaps by the authorities in Washington. Mr. Dana, the assistant secretary'of war, who was still with the army, was present at the interview, and he and General Grant tried to console Meade by assurances that the story would not be credited, and that they would give a broad con- a despatch -to the secretary of war, al-. tradlctlon to it. Mr. Dana at once sent luding to the rumor, and saying: "This is entirely untrue. He has not shown any weakness of the'sort since mov- ing~from-Culpeper7~nar~once-in{lmated a doubt as to the successful issue of the campaign." The secretary replied the next day (June 10), saying:-"Please say to General Meade that the lying report alluded to in your telegram'was not even for a moment believed by the president or myself. We have the most perfect confidence in him. He could not wish a more exalted estimation of his ability, his firmness, and every quality of a commanding general than is entertained for him." The newspaper correspondent who had been the author Of this slander was seized and placed on a horse, with large placards hung upon his breast and back bearing the Inscription, "Libeler of the-Press," and drummed out of camp. There had never been a moment when Me^de had not been in favor of bold and vigorous' advances, and he would have been the last man to counsel a retreat. .'..-.. • Southern • Amazoun. , Edward C. Ffoulkes has Just received inf ormatioa that James Kyle, a great- granduncle, has died in Virginia, bequeathing $500,000 to hia mother, . Mr. Dr. 'James F. • Ffoulkes, "who Is now Jvlng in California, says the New York Mail and Express. Mr, Kyle was an «ocentric man, a pfc&eer of the south, who made alI T of hie money from coal sad. iron in the mountains of Tennessee. Mrs. FfOijlkea is the widow of a celebrated eurg«on of the confederate «rfa*y who was one of the dearest triends that 1 >Qa». Lee laid claim to. hei) Dr.- ffoujkea went to the front,, Mrs. Ffpulies, then a bride, with a dozen other young women, accompanied him'. /The brave amazona were in the midst pf the hard fighting for more than a year ,and frequently tore up ;heir petticoats tQ make bandages for the wounded. Mrs. Ffoulkes was unded' several times, but nothing could persuade her to leave tow-. husband's falde. The lady is well kaovya hero ami many letters of congratula- tloa are being sent to her ttiryugh her son. — "Of remind Use* la TIMELY TOPICS-FQR OUR BOYS' AND GIRLS. "O!<S tfltehorn the Goaf.—B*rtle's Bull —A Boy to Be -frond of—"Detention Hour," a frctty Poem from Boy*' Own Paper. Detention Hoar. I. HE GOLDEN sunlight floods the room, The flies wheel to and fro, And through the open window A hum of life be- ilow; Three boya, before a battered desk, . Survey with hopeless gaze A page of algebra bestrewn With x'o, b's, and a's. laoldkard scribbled o'er, a dUPless way*, Before a bl In quite t, ~^_—„ ., _,, , With scraps of knowledge gathered from ' . The labors of the day, The master sits with pencil blue, . And marks without & blench The erring suni, the misspelt word, The French that is not French. III. fUent Bit the prisoned ones, __ive -whori a far-off Bhout Bflatfa vjejcla {p their r&Uess minds Then IhHy hSntfo grasp tumbled half, And, like ft. distant sea, A murmurlna: rises through the room Of mystic formulae. ' \ * • .IV. And eo, throughout a tedious hour, The loud clock ticks apace, Bach youth Intent upon his book With' studious frowning face, Rememberjnff on yester eve .How simple seemed each rule, When some inviting game obscured The coming morrow's school ' V. ;;;-_—;-- ; And now at length the captives rise, Each gazing on his book, And sidle to their gaoler's seat, Snatching one furtive look; They stumble through 1 the dreaded task, f hen cast their books aalde, And speed through the deserted aohool TO the glad world outside. VI. . And now the creeping hour Is past, The silent striving: done, Rebellions x and stubborn y Fly With the sinking sun; And to the .east, with satchels full, /Three scholars march wlfh glee, WhllejjVestWard, with a sober step, Departs the dominie. —Boys' Own Paper. Old, Witchorn the Goat. Old Whitehorn was a goat. He lived nowhere in particular,, and had a very bad temper. The people he had. butted over could not be counted. He used to He in wait behind a great rock, below a cluster of little shanties that had won the title of R6cky~How7"and no one.knew when he would rush out and attack people. ' . He belonged to Mrs. McMorn t and no power on earth could induce that lady to sell-'faim. :."It's not that I don't hate the baste meself," she used to say, "but sure and indade I'll take'orders'from no neighbors. If Mrs. Dolan and Mrs. O'Grady had not bid me dlshpose av h}m as if thye was qifanes, I'd .have had him made into chops' or sausages' long ago. 1 .' - •• ' • .;'-•• Old Mrs. Smithefs and her grandson Sammy lived in the neatest hou.se in Rocky Row. Whatever whitewashing and scrubbing and rubbing of window glass'could do.for a "shanty" was done for the walls, the floor and the windows of Mrs. Smlthers' little home, as well as for Sammy, who had clean, well-' starched shirt waists and boots that> shone even when they weer out at Che toes, which happened now and then, for old Mrs. Smithers was very poor and had to earn all she had by going out house-cleaning or taking in laundry,work. : , • '•• Sammy was yet too small to earn anything/but he ran of errands for his grandma and put on the tea kettle to boll before'she came home. Old Mrs. Smlthers had not always been poor.. She once lived comfortably and happily in a pretty, white cottage with green shutters and a red roof that stood between two , rows of poplars, with a garden full of lilacs and peonies and strawberry shrub, all set about With box borders, and, Mr. Smithers, tammy's grandfather, was buying it of Mr*. Mix, who was said to be a miser. One day he went to pay his last installment, and was coming home, driving his gig. when a'piece of white pa- • per blew along the road, and eo frightened the horse, that ha ran away and threw his driver out. Sam's grandfather was so much hurt that he died of jis injuries, and only lived long enough ;o tell his wife-that the papers proving :ha^ he had paid for his house were in Us pocketbook.; However, no pocket- xx>fc was found, and Mr. Mis; said that xe had not been paid anything fop his house. ' » ,. "Produce the papers/' was all that ha would answer Mrs. Smitters-when sh'e told him what her husband had said. VI? he paid they've got the receipts to prove it." -...._ _.:.-. But the papers were gone. Mrs. Smlthera was .turned out of her house, most of her furniture: taken, and she was obliged to work,' aa .we havo. said, 0 support herself and Saiamy?-."'•:'. "If -we had only known just' where soor grandpa was thrown out we might vave found the pocke^book," bia grandmother used to say to Sammy. However,. Sam himself would have leea happy e^awj'a, if it had uot been, or Mra. Mepjm's dreadful Wily gfjat, The ereaturu was the. tomeat of his ,lfe. He "w#a 'feiwy* Iti4tag be&ted roekn wheit &m» w&at «l eu'woX • JN THE ODD te rush out -with lowered hornet, utUring that awful "Ma-a-a! ma-a-a!" and, Bam expressed it, "go for aim." But It was to be that this very old WhHehorn was to do a good thing for Sam—a very good tblng, though it die not aeem so at first eight. This Is the way it happened: Old Mrs. Smlthera had worked at a lady's house, a whole week, and the lady had paid her well and given her a nice present besides and she came homo Iri good spirits "Ndw you shall have a good cake for Sunday.and a custard as well, Sam, 1 she said. "Go to the grocery and get me two quarts of-milk and a dozen eggs, some lemon flavoring and three pounds arid a half of sugar, besides the tea and coffee we usually buy. You must get some raisins, too. We will have a treat. Sam was very much pleased. He pul the basket on his arm, took a pall in his hand, and skipped past old Whitehorn" so lightly that the goat was left behind before he knew it. But when Sam had filled his basket, and was on his way home, all Jaden with good things," he^was'noFs^ frisky. • Just as he thought himself safe, whack came something behind him! Away flew basket and pall, and down he went into a deep hole where ashes and jgarbage were thrown by the careless folk of Rocky Row. It was a deep hole, and he was covered with dirt and a good deal scratched, and it was hard to find a place to, climb up. Then the eggs and milk and raisins were gone, and where were the good cakes and custards to come from? Sam began to cry, and leaned up against the side pf the pit, while Whitehorn looked down upon him and said "Ma-a-a!" At this sound Sam grew furious, and took a stone from the earth to throw at him. As he did so,"he saw in the hole that the stone hod left something red; 'He picked it up. It was a. long-shaped pocket or bill-book, and on -the -corner was - a "name, and Sam spelled out these letters: "Samuel S*mlthers." A little later, Mrs, Smlthers was astonished to see Sam, ragged and dirty, bruised and scratched, without, basket or pail, but laughing, rush in at the door. "The milk is spilled, and the eggs are gone, and there Is not a raisin left," he shouted, "but I've found'grandpa's pooketbook with the papers ih'lt!" And so he had. Ever since it fell into the hole rubbish had been thrown up on-it, and had kept it from the rain, and. It -was quite clean and dry. "But If .Whltehbrn had not butted Sam that day it never would have been found." Mrs, Smlthers often said that, after they went to live in the dear old h^me which grandpa had bought for them, and where they are so very happy together.—New York Ledger. -— Bertle'a .Ball. "Up, up, tip it goes, and down, down, down it comes," sang Bertie Brown, as he tossed his rubber ball up against the house and caught it again. _Up, up," he began once more, and sure enougbTTt did go up this time; »way up on top of the porch. Bertie waited to see'if he could say, "down, 4ojwn," but he couldn't, for the ball didn't; it stayed up there. 9ertie stood around and waited awhile, but finally concluded to go and play horse with Sam Clark, who llvefl n^xt door, and ask papa to get the ball w$|n he came home. But when papa came he told Bertie that there was no way to get the ball then. He would have to wait till tn1j*Btonn windows upstairs were taken off, for he.had no ladderjlong.enough to*reachT up to the roof. Bertie missed his ball, for he was very fond of it, and the worst of it was that he «puld see it from his mamma's window upstairs. : . One day while mamma was dressing he stood looking out of the window and wishing, oh, BO hard, that-he could get his ball, when a little snowbird came fluttering down to'the roof, peeped in at the window, and then hopped right upon the ball. It gave a little roll which must have frightened the bird, for with a swift ,motion it spad away and the ball rolled softly over the edge of the porch and dropped to tb.e ground. You can scarcely Imagine how surprised Bertie was. He ran down to the yard in a twinkling, and there was his ball in a little nest of dry leaves..'. He has always felt very sure that the snowbird knew how much he was wishing for the ball, for this is a true story, and how else can you account, for what the .little bird did?—Julia, Darrow, k>wles, in Youth's Companion."—; ; ;T TQ Be. I'roua Of. ' . "How does it taste, I wonder?" said Janile, as he saw Patrick Flynn take a glass of steaming punch at the bar of a restaurant, "Did yo.u ever taste strong drink, James?" said, a handsome old ui^n standing by. V : "Never," said James. ."I wonder if it ts'gbod?" "I cannot teWi yon how it tastes," said Mr. Landers. "I am 60 years old, and have .never tasted it In my-life,-'and I am proud to Bay it, I see what It does. It has cheated poor Flyun out of als snug little home. It has clothad ils poor%ife and children in raga and made him cross and quarrelsome. It s liquid.fire, and theft, and poison. I don't'want to know ho\v It tastes." 'NeUhw do I," said James, "Thank you, Mr. Landers, for what you have said. When I am a man 60 years old I, too, will hav« it to say, T never tasted strong ,drink In my life.' " Two WooiwleJV Me., SOM6 QUEER AND CURIOUS FEATURES OF A Prayer OT«rh««rd~~FlgBHnff a Tiger at Clo«« Quarter*—1 iU*.r«*i lajr Pound In Cunada—-Book* Their HE •-. worda thAt trembled on - your Hps Were -utter't! ~-I know; It ' well; The tears . . thAt •/would .;y otai «yea .eclipse Were check'd anfl . Bmother'tl, ere they fell: The . looks and smiles I galn'd from you Were little,more than, others WXMI, And yet you are not Wholly true, • Nor wholly Just what you have done. * Tou know, at. least you might have known, ; • That every little grace you gave,— Your-volce'B somewhat lower'd tone,— Tour hand's faint shake or parting wave,— ' • • • Tour every sympathetic look At words that chanced your soul to touch, '..-,-• While reading from some favorite book, Were much to me—alas, how much! Tou, might have " seen—perhaps you saw— - • - . • • How all of these were steps of hope On which I rose, In, Joy and awe, Up to .my passion's lofty ecope; How after each, a firmer tread I planted on the slippery ground, And higher raised my venturous, head, And ever, new assurance found. May be, without a further thought, It only pleased you thus to please, . And thus to kindly feelings wrought Tou "measured not the sweet degrees; Tet, though you hardly understood Where I was following- at your call, Tou might—I dare to say you should- Have thought how for I had to f All. And thus when fallen, faint, and bruised, I may have wrongfully accused Your heart of vulgar fickleness: But even now, In calm review ' •' . Of lall'I lost and all I,, won, • ' I canhot deem you wholly true, Nor wholly just what you have done. A Tiger tat Cloud Quarter*. Col. H. Ward tells in the Badminton Magazine about a tiger that he shot in India: \ "We were after a tiger on an old trail," toe saya, "when ttye men began to ^consult aa to what would best be done, While they talked I wandered away alone up a small stream, on either side of which the grass had been burned, leaving a fine gray ash spread over the ground. In this I found the perfectly fresh footprints ot a large tiger,: which we had evidently disturbed. Following cautiously, I presently saw the 4 tiger a"bout fifty yards In front of me, \yalklng slowly along among the bamboos; he neither saw nor heard me, and. seemed to suspect nothing. I followed him .till he dipped into a ravine, then I ran back and sent the men round to drive him towards me. There was no large tree''available, so I lay down.on'a fiat_roclc, with a sloping bank to my left, and on the right a clear space about eight .yards •wide to the side of the hill, which rose in a perfectly straight scarp.' I hoped the tiger would come to iny left, below me, but he didn't. Instead, he came headed so that had I left him alone he would have passed within six feet of me. When he was about eight yards off I fired, and as ' the smoke cleared I eaw the brute's jaws close to the muzzle' of the rifle. I pulled the trigger of the other barrel, dropped the rifle, rolled over the bank, and leaped Into a emailJbree during th^~nexr"few~secoirds7~^But the tiger was dead, shot through the heart. Hi» whiskers were burned by the second charge," A Prayer Overboard, As Rev,.Henry Bromley, a city missionary in Brooklyn, N. Y., was one day passing through a dairk hall in ft tumble-down tenement-house, he saw through a broken door a woman and. three children sitting at a bare table, on which there was only a loaf of aread. As he'paused an instant, arrested by :he evident indications of refinement in' the quiet little group,-„• they all bowed their heads and repeated in concert:' 'God bless our going.out, nor less Our coming in, and make theni sure, God bless.our daily bread; and bless • Whate'er we do',' whate'er-endure; ' in' \Jeath unto His peace awake us,' And aeirs of His salvation make us." The visitor's eyes were dimmed With' tears asJia made hjls way. down'-the-UHi 5 certain stairs. A few hours later, at" 1 a" eupper in the conferenca-room of" the -«ritii which he was connected, was called upon to "ask a blessing." With the scene in the chamber of poverty fresh in his mind, he, repeated ?rlnce Albert's translation of a Gernan hymn, as the poor woman and children had done over their half- dime ioaf; and. afterward he related the 'ncfdent ot the afternoon.. ,. • All the persons at the table listened vith attention and interest, : but a stranger In the city, who had comVin a Iwsinesa acquaintance by what d the merest chance, wag' go Jm- M-essed by the story that he could not ceep silence.. H« % approached Mr. Bromley, and inquired particularly 43 ;o the appearance of the famUgr,''and f'thcy lived far away.- ^f"r; ' r Oh, no," said Mr.;'Bromley, "By a short cut, -entirely familiar to 'me,, we may reach them In a few naiautes. If you would like to visit them in the way of beuevoleneee, w« can go after supper," "Lei ua #o~;y,ow," said the 'But ft^low we to Mi 8' ce««itry h»afk« 4s It no*"It fs yr-am so" 3 ' «.!SM» t r, tet nlsrtjr? Ift a? b&me fa the *wt tH»t IEW* and I have th?» fedlu#r that Sf jay Is living If IB sMct in nn* May. not, this be A ? 'It WRJ-, iBdeed aryj and «a«klag thefr sxetises, ths men harried away. Tie evening's entertainment was over when Mr. Bromley returned ssrtt described what he had s«€R to tlie interested ^group" that fafiersd Mm. ' . "It was 'ona ot the most inBta^ce* d God's fenM^ bsad I ever^ known," eaj« life/ "The brother and sister rt>«>gBte*i«afib, other Jmme- dlately, n tesm* mat th» jKKir.w^- mau has fceen through, ajl phases 08 poverty, from a decent home to desU" tutfon in a garret. For a time she forgot God, and ceassd to say her gran ( «- .mo/taer'a grace. 'It seemed mockery,' ehe said, 'when we had so little to eAt.* But the words, 'whate'er we do, what- e'er endure,' brought it back" to Mt heart, and she resolved, 'If God eala bless what I endure, I will keep oa saying the prayer.' - '^hirf purpose Bhe followed, and in It found, reason for Increased faith in tte« divine faithfalsesB and love." Tne clue that leads one back to lost filenda and .fortune is not, always aa act of piety or an "unconscious Yir- tne;'* but we are sure that a soul, however", desolate, that nev*r forgsts its duty to its conscience and its God \lvta noarest to the Guiding ITandl ' ' '"i.? ***! ;« s 's g *. Book* Remember Their Wton v Many stories are terfd of the of the rook and of his ten&eicws memory., Mr. Btw&tW, aa'|3atHeb man,. Jn hia book, 7B««jka and Nelgnbors,". giv«» a'-8$min&, ln of thie. A; week or tiro aftetf.A' whote- salejBlaiighter.Jn a to^iery^ jfrifan_jtMjj^_ of the ''birds had forsaken their ojfl habitat, he and a friend observed fa , a bare tree two rooto^one of which) was maklnarra moai peculiar . nota^J Wondering what it' all meant, '. they' were presently overtaken by tha-tist*' birds swctonlng down within a few f«t « of them and uttering loud tries .of anger, .The next day, being out alone, t|j9' two birds took no 'notice of Mm, but on being Joined 3>y his friead they' attacked and pursued them,, with lopi- cries as before. UnaJble to underst this, the' Squire alone paid them A t ond visit, wearing, by accident, friend's great <Joat, when, to Ms as ment, down came the furious bird, lowing hkn with loud crlea he went, Tha^ ^great coat TJUB cause ot all fher OiBtnrbance, His fri had worn it A day or two before, gone out with a rifle and ehot rook on a neighboring tree. HencS- the frantic grief anfi 'fury of one of the •• d Istracted parents, which followed ' '"" ' murderer to the very last,'"pu*w the gig in which he rode away up to the railway station.'?. Interesting" Relic In Canada. _ '_ That a snuff-box ot Sir Francis • Drake's should bob up .'in a Canadl^ village is one of the unexpected thingis, , but the editor of the Flesherton, Oflt, Advance, who is quite, a collector of" curiosities, reports that Mr. Luke Brad- " bury of-Fleshes-ton ha^ such a'anuft^- box and could not be Induced to sell it, as it has been in the family for a long time. The box is oblong—an, inch in ' thickness and three inches long—and was carved out of horn. On the cover is Drake's name and . cpat-of-arms, finely carved In bas-relief. Mr. BradV , bury-notonly-possesseathis three h^nV •*•' dred 'year old snuff-box,vbut^ also 'bia ' grandfather's Waterloo medal," stamped ' • "Francis Bradbury, Waterloo, June 18, v 1815.".. •',•'' Parrot Arithmetic, One day the celebrated Audubon, came out of ihts cottage wjtb ' four s of his friends to go for a -walk. The next instant; they saw,a parrot fly In at the window. Audubon and one of his friends returned indoors, and immediately 1 the bird flew out iq,a fright and .went circulating about ^overhead, , Audubon came put, again, but the bird refused to re-ei^ter until the other gen« tleman had ajeo' left the house, It seemed to remember that two pejsons d gone in and only one had cpme out* Curi.Quo, to discover how far t&e parrot could count, he returned indoors with four frjenda 'and made, them,, go out, ane;,at a time, wjillg JIB'".himself remained inside. In ja few^jninuteg the bird .flew in again,. It w^ ftvldent that [ts powers of e.rlthmeii^ ended at tlia'v number four, .. \ •> "", .^-, - Charles Ba'b'bage, the celebrated Ik- van tor of ••lhe--oalcxslftting- machine, made the collection of 'the records of 1,751 centenarians^ 'of- 'Whom iJBTS/ died before reaching the age of tW{ )80 died -between the ages, of 110 and 130; 99 'between 120 and 130; 32 be- iween the ages of 13Q and 140; and-, the remaining 12 before reaching, tlio' age of 150< The chances of eurvjlviag yond J50 are extr&flfl^ly I'-emote, iU- though a few cases are r&eordet of t;bjem evea being opedHeii with IP,passed the ag^ of 170,•• but too much reUaae® aiu«t aot be pJ&e&J such sUUew&uts. ^ : P Ssf A ; p waay, whieh alwaya cosies aut ot water wliew e<fld oj w^ w^^ist' Is ia

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