The Cedarville Herald, Volume 12, Numbers 27-52
The Cedarville Herald. W. IL BLAIR. PublHUir. <JE 0 AK .VII.LE . ?t i S OHIO. JOCK* THE DUNCE. TmfcYs* adunce, the au|dwives said, ‘V%t> donilnlo Just shook his howl— Wi’ Bio a look. ■‘X'wdoao the host I could,” quo’ ho, Jock’s udunco—thawarl* can see Without abook.” Jack Jao(;hod, but novor taskedhis thumb, Me wm na anow.huwad presume .To contradict. Jtut sjrohotboebt within hlmsol’ ft maybo suo, but titnu will toll. I’ll no’- predict. ■ .Therewas auc nialr besides our Joclt, ' Who thoOht na like tlie rest o' tolk, A brawyoung quean. Ker faith inJockwas stronq an’ true, Shclo'odhim as aheart cun lo'o That kens a fricn’. An' when Jock left the glen at last, To pushhis fate afore themast, ’ Jennywas there. He kissedher bonnymou’Tareweq), i Andsaid: "Noo, dawty, by this seal We’ll meet unce inslf." ' . , Herheart was like to break in twa. She Bobbed and sobbed, but through it a’ There earn’ a smile. •Johnny, my heart is a' yor ain, .An' will bowhen yo como aguin. . . Their jokesjo spoil." • . Jive yqars gued by, ns years will gang— Ikon twa hearts that thocht.tbcm lung. But aye hoped truo. Jffrlneesanrt priestsmaychange theircreeds WBot love, aye strong for what it needs— Ne’er changes hue. Ano day a stranger—rich an'braw—. Cam' dooa 1110 glen an’ tloyodthema' W proudfu’ stares. Thenwhispers through the clachan flow— Hero’s Jock, the dunce, a captain, noo, Wl’ sic grand airs. Along tho gien tho-straager strodo,. Wi’ dignity in ilka noil • 'Mang a’ the folk. • „ An’ sido by side wi’ blushes warm, Sweet Jenny cam', locked armInarm , Wi’ Captain Jock. Thodominie cried: ”Losh bless me, .lays tbocht Jock wad boar the gree, .. AnTturn out weel." The auldwives joinedhim In tho loo, Ah’ vowed boo glad they were to see The weel fauredehler. Ob, warl that I hae kenned sao-lang. . Confess that ye are sometimesWrang In judging mon.- Pinna yo flee wi’ unkind haste An’ set anedooa as gauoto waste - Before ye ken. —William Lyle, in Detroit Free Press. SAVED A LIFE. H ow an American B oy W o n Fam e a t a French Sdhciol. ’ m ' C P P E B was over in the col lege of Sainte B a r b c . The lessons for tho next day were a l l prepared, and the hoys w e r e getting ready for bed. A merry 1o t they were i n department this year; nearly all were French, of c o u r sc, with here and there a little English man fromacrosH . - the channel,and Sm one o f the beds in the long dormitory dept a small representative of our own »cp*blic, Frank Harrington, whose mnentohad left him to receive his wiu* Urr*» schooling at Sainte Barbc, while they were traveling ubroad. Frank wxs m great favorite among the boys— height, overflowing with fun and full wi American grit. They admired the StUovfelloavVeonrage and-daring, and that fin# sense of honor which is born h i tho breast o f every true American fcdy. And Frank Harrington, if tile Ursthmust lie told, rather enjoyed all this admiration, and was not a little proud of being a leader among tho French boys. At the extreme enu of the dormitory .stood the bed of the only boy who re fused to acknowledge the reign in the preparatory school of We petit Amer inds,” as Frank was called. A proud, haagfctj nature had Louis de Chaves, the last o f a long line of titled ances tors, faithful followers of the Hour* tons and haling with an inherited la ired all that savored of republican* asm. Although younger than Frank by several yean;, he seemed to have taken an instinctive dislike to the careless, tappy-hearted boy, and more tlmn once tad incceedcd in bringing him into dis grace. It had been h holiday, and the boys tad been having a very jolly time, so 'Swing unusually tired to-night they '•rare unusually subdued and, after a whispered word or two about the games o f the day, went quietly to ■sleep tlraduaUy the few noises about the college erased, until the ticking of the docks- could be heard through all the buildingK. Outside, the streets of Fans grew more and more deserted, and the lonely footsteps Of the tergrant* die rift* were the only sounds which broke the-stillncss of the night. Trank Harrington had played a little tbnhkrd that day, or his aupper, some- w I mm C better than usual on uceount of the bfttdny, had disagreed with him, fo r was very restless, and sfarted Unary tidies in his sleep, until at last VA t i n Opened wide and would not close again. I t was very still. Frank was unused to being awake in the night, and it seemed to him he had never felt anything more oppressive than the silence of the room, and tho regular breathing, o f the sleeping boys, The. moon shone in full through tho window just above his head, and threw long shadows over the floor, which he fancied took queer forms and shapes around him. The great hall clock struck two, and he started, so loud it sounded through the room. At last, however, he grew sleepy, and Was just beginning to doze comfortably off, when ho saw a small,- white-robed ■ figure coming slowly toward his bed. Now Frank had been a little nervous for some time, though he wouldn't have admitted it for the world, and his heart gave a bound, and for a moment he held his breath, then the figure stepped into the moonlight, and lie saw that it was Louis de Chaves. His eyes were closed, and Frank saw instantly that he was walking in his sleep. He felt a little* ashamed of this feifr a moment before, especially as lie hud often heal’d the other boys say that Louis was a sleep walker. “ It is always lie,” he thought, petu lantly. ‘ T would be real happy here if it wasn’t for this miserable little royalist." Louis stood for a moment,-as if hesita ting, and then turning walked slowly along the length of the dormitory. Frank watched him curiously until he saw him reach ’ the door, when, to his surprise, Louis opened it and passed out,’ closing It quietly after him. Frank's first impulse was to spring out of bed and follow him. “ He w ill come to some harm,” he thought. “ The stairs are just outside.” Then came a selfish thought. “ I t ' is cold. He wouldn’t do it for me.” Five minutes later Frank Harrington was fast asleep. Every morning at half'past five the bell of Sainte Bnr.be rouses the stu dents of the college. A half an hour later it is rung for prayers. But the hands o f, the clock pointed to twenty- five minutes to six, and one after an other the boys -awakened, wondering what ailed ilie punctual old bell, that had never failed in its duty since their grandfathers were babies. They were not left long, however, in 'suspense. Through the'long corridors one of the under professors noiselessly passed. With his finger on his lip commanding silence, he beckoned to the frightened boys who quickly gathered round him, and in low, hurried tones told them why the bell had not been rung. In the dim gray light of dawn, one of the pro fessors, looking from his window, had seen little Louis do Chaves sitting, on the edge o f the eaves which ran along the French roof of the further build ing, his feet swinging over the terri ble height, and his whole attitude "showing him to be asleep. Tho win dows above him were securely grated, so that the only way he coiild pos sibly have reached this position was to linve climbed out of the wiudow at .which the professor was standing, walked over the roof below, and crossed a narrow ledge which ran between the two buildings. Tlie pro fessor stood for a- moment horror- stricken, then rushed with the alarm ing news to the head of the college, -who—commanded—that~thc~bdt~slnighl~ not be rung, and sent immediately for tlie nearest rnairie for assistance, and so porfect i.s the police systoin of Paris that, by the time the -boys had hurried ly pulled on their clothes and collected outside the building, beds and hay were {filed on tlie ground, policemen were He stood dazed and shuddering, un til he hea.«l them wondering around him who would be brave enough to try to save Louis, Then he started for ward: “ I w ill go. Oh! let ?ne try. I am sure ean save him," lie whispered, earnestly.' The permission was grant ed, and a few minutes later all below were held spellbound as Frank’ ap peared at tlie window, and cautiously began bis descent toward .the* spot to which all eyes were lifted. Three policemen held the rope, which was fastened just below his arms. Slowly he neared the place, he reached it, lie clasped the sleeping boy firmly around tho waist. A struggle as the little fellow avVolte, und then, as the two boys were, carefully drawn up again, cheer upon cheer echoed up and down the street for Louis do TEMPERANCE NOTES. ASK YOUR JUG I "Why Is my house so shabbyandold, At every crevioo letting In cold, And the kitchenwaits all coverod with mold?" Ask your jug) “Why are my eyes so swollen andred? Whence Is this dreadful pain Inmy head? Where in tho world is ouruloo feather bed? And the wood that wus oncepiledin the shed?” Ask your jug: “Why Is ray wife heart-broken and sad? Why ure my children never now glad? Why did my business run down so bad? Why at ray thoughts amI well-nigh mad?" Ask your jug! . ’ “Oh! whydo I pass.by tho old churchdoor, Weary of heart and sadly foot-sore, Every moment sinking down lower, A pitiable outcast evermore!” , , Ask your jug. —Bata's Horn. SLOWLY HE NEARED THE PLACE. Chaves1 and “ /<s petit Americain ." And when, a moment later, the •great hell pealed forth to summon them to prayers, all knelt with softened, grate ful hearts around the young royalist and the bravo hoy who lmd saved his life and gained his friendship.—Kath erine Hamilton, in American Agricul turist. STREET-DRIVING IN PARIS. Tho L O l'IS STOOD FO R A M O M E N T . stationed at the two streets running into the Rue de Reims to prevent per sons, or vehicles, from passing, and others were ranged all along tlie walls to maintain the perfect silence which was absolutely necessary, for everyone knew that any sound awakening the little sleeper woiild Vie instantaneous death by causing him to fall from his dangerous position down the fearful number of feet which lay between him and the ground. The question now iiroso as to how the boy was to bo saved. There, seemed but one way;’ to take out the grating us quietly as possible from the wInflow Shove, and le t some one down to him by a rope, But who would undertake so hazard ous a thing? A ll held back afraid. They knew that one false step, or the least want of steadiness would li “ ’l tho unconscious boy to tlie ground. Frank Harrington, too, heard tho reason told in Whispered tones why the bell’was silent. He stood now among the group Of frightened boys, his eyes fixed In horror on tlie helpless figure bo far above for he knew that ho had held in his hand the night before the life o f Louis do Chaves und had thrown it away ns worthless*. Tremendous Uproar Created by tSia Teamsters and Cabmen. ■ The noise o f tho streets o f Paris would cause an American to fancy him self at home on the Fourth o f July. The average Parisian is no more to ho trusted with a whip than lie is with a locomotive whistle. From dawn till dawn the cracking of cabmen’s whips makes the air tremulous with resonant agitation. Every man who drives a horse curries a long whip-lash, and cracks it incessantly. Crack, ,hpat, spatter, spatter, crack, crack, go tho. whips in a nover-endihg chorus all around you wherever you walk, and apparently in your apartment when you try to sleep. I f you want to im agine what it sounds like, just fancy every third or fifth man in Now Ycrk going about firing, giant torpedoes all tlons, the drivers; arc quite picturesque. They wear red waistcoats as a rule, and invariably sport tall hats of some shiny material that looks like patent- leather. Their hat bands are often o f metal silvered or gilded. They are a pestiferous lot, as noisy with tlicir mouths 11 A with their whip-lashes, and though 1 had no quarrel with any, l heard o f or saw quarrels between them and tiieir fares on all sides. They have no silly scruples against a battle of longues with a woman, and tlie Ameri can ladies in Paris were often quite ter rorized by these noisy malcontents. There ore few, i f any, hansoms in Paris, the small open barouche’being the favored publiceonyoynnee,__T qaco a myriad o f these Hitting about at niglit is like looking at n festival of lanterns. In places Paris is brilliantly lighted by mosses o f lights, always gas lights; but in the open places, like parts of tlie ' Champs Elysees, where the foliage flings dense shadows, the lamps of the cabs produce a beautiful effect. ‘Buses are plenty, but lest the. driver should fail to make the neces sary amount of noise with his whip and voice, he is re-enforced by the use o f a horn fixed beneath his foot-board, and worked by a sort of bellows proc ess. An expert., driver is therefore able to make throe, sorts of noises ut once. In Paris tho public vehicles are. too few and too slow. Paris is as far behind London in means of public con veyance as London is behind New York.- Hamer's Weekly, An Honest .Man. (treat’Lawyer (in cross-examination) —Huh! You consider the. prisoner an honest mau, do you? Witness — An honcatcr man never lived. (treat Lawyer (superciliously)—Will you kindly sfate on what you base that remarkable, opinion? Witness (hotly)--On the fact that lie once tried lob e lawyer, and failed.-- Load News. —Taking His Breath Away.—Miss Simper- “ Aren't things lunch cheaper Oils year than they were last year?" Calloway- “ Yes, indeed. I oniy pay one-half as much for my neckties. The difference is so ONE CAUSE OF POVERTY. A 1’otunt Factor lu tlio JProiluction of Pauperism anil Vice. Tho Chicago Tribune lias just pube lished a brief table which is of consid erable interest to’ every student of the liquor, question. The population of Chicago is in round numbers. 1,000,000. A recent report of -the city hoard of health gives the number of firms and perrons engaged in various occupations. From that report the Tribune takes the. figures in the following table, which shows the number of inhabitants to each saloon, meat market, etc Saloon....... :.........S17|Oro?ery........... -'17 Meat market.........77U|l)nv,' score..,......'0.000 Lawyer..... ........... 4&Uil>«>cior....... Gi}?ar shop ...... SXWiOflleoholdcr, The officeholders are at the head of the procession, and the saloons come next. Notice the great jump there is from the saloon to the grocery and meat market, both of which cater to the prime necessity of mankind—food. Tho Tribune remarks' that “ there is one municipaland government employe for every one hundred and twenty Chi cagoans, men, women and children; that is a good record, and it shows where the taxes go.” That paper might well also remark that there is one saloon for every 217 people—men. women and children—in Chicago, and that this shows where tho money goes. It shows why there is so much poverty in the slums of Chicago; it shows why vice is so rampant there; it shows why it is tho breeding place of anarchy and the hot bed of socialism. Probably every one remembers how in his childhood, tho familiar adage was dinned into his ears: “ Y o * can't have your cake; and eat it, too.” This adage has its application to Chicago,, and in fact to every other city in the land. Poor men desire to become wealthy, but they desire also to satisfy their' appetites and passions at tlie same time. I I f nn intelligent man, of sound body and mind, and with a good trade at his command, desires to accumulate prop erty, there .is no country in the. world in which he can so easily do so as in the United States. The rate Of wages is higher here ihan iu any other coun try in the world, and higher, too, in proportion to the cost of living. It is not difficult for a yoting man, unmar ried, and with no one dependent upon aye half of Ills Wages. A ll he has to do is to open an account with a savings bank, figure out! how much is absolutely necessary for his living ex penses^ and when ho draws his weekly pay to .immediately deposit every penny above this sum and leave it de posited, Right’ there comes the test. It is not difficult to make this first accumulation —the nest-egg of tho future fortune—if a man once makes up liis mind to do so, but’it is the indisposition of the aver age workingman or employe to do this, which is the great cause of poverty. Men desire to have their cake and to eat it at the same time. They wish to get all the possible enjoymont which tlicir money will procure at once, un- mindful oHEc faeF that ihiT'cxtrava- gaiit habits which they arc acquiring will hang like a millstone arotind their necks and utterly prevent any saving when the care o f a wife and family arc added. After a few years a man finds that it is a constant struggle to make both cndH meet and he secs nci hope of any betterment of the future. If he gets an increase in wages or sal ary he finds that by some strange proc ess liis needs or desires increase sud denly in the same ratio, and month after month goes around anti finds him either with empty pockets or strug gling with debt. Some men cease straggling, give themselves up to sel fish indulgence and go swiftly down tlie declivity which lands them in a drunkard's grave. Others become soured and embittered at tlie world, look upon all mep who have made sav ings ns tlicir natural enemies and fall into the communistic idea that “ all wealth is robbery.” It is a peculiarity of human nature that a man very rare ly places the fault where it should be long—on his own shoulders. He does not Maine himself for being extrava gant and reckless with his money, but blames other men because they arc not so. and therefore because they save. , It may lie laid down as a maxim that a man who lias nothing to depend upon tiut his own exertions is certain to die a poor man if he becomes habituated to drinking. A man cannot be a drinker-, “ one of the boys” - -and save money. Aside from flic,wastefulness which the habit entails in paying for vied." Mi-ei Simper • vuV. thisi*. f.o sudden J iirnit.li, r. •Oh. Mr. r.i'.lo- Clothier and ’ e great that now (smil- /he liquor which the /nan himself con ing) 1 could easily afford log.*t mar- Mimes and that with which he treats othc.s, it also causes a considerable Waste of time each year. A man w ill drink too much, and be obliged to .take a day or two off In order to sober up; or he drinks when, bis bodily functions ure deranged, ‘becomes ill and loses time until he recovers. The ways are very numerous in which the drinking habit, directly or indirectly, keeps a man down in the groove of poverty.' There is no more potent factor in the production of poverty and pauperism than this habit; and those economists who are vexing their souls in the en deavor t o ’ .find the cause and cure of poverty, if they desire to quit theoriz ing and adopt practical work, cannot do better than to join in the effort to pulverize the rum power.- Toledo Blade. THE TIPSOJA ANIAC.’ A Physician’* Description o f Different Kinds’o f Tipplers. There are four classes: 1 . Thq&who: drink from ahubit of tippling. ‘ 2 . Those who’ drink to relieve nervous prostra, tion, or to d.ro\vn sorrow or wrong. 3 . Those who drink from hereditary ten dency. 4. Traumatic drunkards. Tho tipplers are usually of three kinds', a, the weak-willed; b, the genial: c, tho inean-souled man, who delights to “ sponge” on others. Those who be- come drunkards .by nightly potations to relieve mental trouble are inure nu merous than supposed. This-drunken ness has no excited stage, and the habit may go on without' dicing' noticed for years.' The nocturnal drunkard will take a small dose in the morning to throw off the stupidity of the.nightly debauch and to appear as usual before tlie public. But this lias its limits, and paralysis, apoplexy or 'insan ity may result. This class usual ly belqngs: t o ' our active members of society. Such nightly stupefac tions arc more.- fatal--to- mental in tegrity than other forln of drinking. In hereditary it is tho nervous bias which is transmitted, which can be aroused suddenly or may lie latent for years. The paroxysms come intermit tently', like the periodic insanities. The hereditary foe may •be overcome by daily battles, but not by isolated ones.- Persons of this class have an unusually nervous condition, irregular circulation, low nutrition, morbid fears, irritable temper, lack of resolution (foreign to the individual in health); even miscon ceptions and delusions may supervene when the attack is corning on. During these bouts of drinking mania the man is uncontrollable. . Wc may eliminate from, the large number of defectives in society those who could reform if they would only try, but yet a large num ber remain, on whom no influence, so cial or religious, has any effect.—Daniel Clark, M. D. TOPICS OF INTEREST. Ax Albany (N. Y.) clerk recently built a three thousand dollar house, the economic result ot twenty years’ absti nence from smoking. A tempkiianck scholarship has been founded in the Magee college, London- berry, Ireland, for stimulating inter est in temperance work among tho students. : Bunn hasn’t been actively engaged in driving out whisky the" last year, though it has had a better chance than it ever had before.. On tlie contrary. while the consumption of b<Sr in creased thirteen per cent, per kraplta, the consumption o f spirituous liquors increased twelve per cent, per capita.— The Voice. ' A little boy, whoso father was’ a rather immoderate drinker of the mod erate kind, one day sprained his wrist, and his mother utilized the whisky in her husband’s bottle to bathe the little, fellow ’s wrist with. A fter awhile the pain began to abate, and the child sur prised his mother by exclaiming: “ Ma, lias pa got a sprained throat?” —Union Signal. • A western man has a scheme for de creasing drunkenness. lie would es tablish a state inebriate •asylum and 'compel those who make and sell liquor to pay for i.ts maintenance. He would tax the distiller one thousand dollars, the wholesaler five hundred dollars and the retailer one hundred dollars a. year in its behalf. Then he would treat drunkenness as insanity,' and confine all drunkards in the asylum until they are permanently cured. A s t o r y is told o f two young, m en who had’a wager that they would pre vail on a clergyman to drink until ho became intoxicated. Ho agreed to drink with them, and to their undis guised joy announced that he would drink like a beast. Imagine their sur prise when he fulfilled liis promise by taking nothing but water, and of that only a moderate quantity. He said n beast not only drinks water, but ho kno,ws when to stop drinking. I n these days when total abstinence is bccomiSg more popular, there is a renewed effort to Introduce alcholies into cookery. I f you put the devil out of the door he flies ,in at the window, and if yon put him out of tho window, he dances down the chimney and sols his blue light burning on the cook stove. Caterers consider many of their . most delicate dishes incomplete with out the smack of alcoholics; they hide this demon in solution in their sherbet, in tlicir pudding sauce, in their cakes, their pics. Let temperance people be on the lookout at restaurants, lintels and so-called high-toned dinner tables Standard. —Not Room for Much.—Dudeson - “ 1 have something in my mind, Miss Amy, that I should like to tell you." Amy Canstique—“ In your mind! Well, it Cim't I hj very much.” —Saturday Even ing Herald, Till? FAR TRAPP ! A Hnuaa« 1'arnn jjia Lou Jla1?bits are * and if allowed i lestatiou bacon farmer and fruit this pest I Mse. st Is shown heiewi satisfactory, and ting or baiting li to it is reduce« make the trap u- boardB. Cutthre pue board twq ft one eiglit inches •the first four In oven at one end t eight-iSfllh block must be puttoge ture shall bo foui Lor the treadle 'seen iu the illusti the projecting bo the trap two inch and projecting with a bit of leal of No. 13 wire. ' I A KANSAS pi'cee of wire, r loop, give it a t loops one inch a un un then form a loop inch above it. Tl der of the wire ain door, malting loop inch apart, Tunniu, ishing like the otli door put the lov., that it will s t a r t ir . door , is low eiun easily and freeh the trap. Then i fine wire and conn the treadle with : axis. Those win enough so that wh. to the treadle w the roof. ’ I f the ti heavy for the door axis extend too f a r he remedied by I, trap. See that the and freely withou sidfcs, and it is rca where the rabbits v ping l’abbits do not diatcly in tlicir n: side, with the open li twigs have beci rabbits set a trap t from place to place thelowest ground si or even shallow h feet below the.genr; these arc Sgood tra along fences, body chard, under el urn —and-liruslt—lreaps:— . not m i into’ a trap set. The. weather !' to do wit}» yufiphi; not entdh ‘hi rabbit while at other time a clay. Baiting the oni/.e themAvifch ini, them for shelter m selves.—Amcrican . POULTRY O ne advantage v\ they need little eati P ick ,the geCsj t < summer to th- U nder ordinary i. aboutTiVi ens. A lway easily mo •ugup WlIKNi; aMiflicici a free rai W hen * t chaff and iug the w W hen l ?ring rap keep in g f ' f l ’i’L Y the most tid of lice . Ir the feathers Snddo no t'mcKfi: bator and the white 'T he mr fhe midd prices arc orMay, I t is ne that hav< Praia rati summer. WltENK the fowl rflr,P, and, Wi.t of thi I t is i, fTJHiil ntt< "iron a fv * light r.-i LA < T
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