Norwalk Chronicler

Evening gazette, Tuesday, September 21, 1897 · page 7

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n / p pages
 

 

 

”Rayon?

 

 

 

 

ABB‘oT-r’s '

a an [ill]!!!
torn PaInt

Cures CORNS, BUNIONS and WARTS
SPEEDILY and WITHOUT PAIN.

FOR SALE BY ALL DRUGGISTS.

. menu saoraans, Prcp’rs,
LlppInan’s Block, SAVANNAH, GA.

 
 

 

 

= II EBE’YO [III BIIIIIGE. 7

A fine building lot on Wilton ave

nue. If you intend to build, look at

this. before purchasing.

Water, gas and sewer on the avenue.
Will be sold at a Bargam.
W. I-I. BYINCTDI‘
Real Estate. and Insurance
Room I. Gazette B’l’d.
MEEKER- COAL CO.
PLOWS, FLOWS IIEPAIBED,

GOAL, WOOD, BRICK,

‘ LIME, BEMENT, TILE'PIPE.

\ o F‘FIGE wrrn o. WARD SELLEOE
WALL eraser. norms La

. DORLON HOUSE

GREGORY’S tOINT.

——

NOW OPEN FOR THE SEASON OF21897.

SIIOIIE IIIIIIIEIIS,
IIIIIIIIE ISLAIIII GLIM BAKE,
BATIIIIIE, BOATING, FISIIIIIG.

 

 

 

Electric cars to Hotel, every twenty
minutes.
JOHN E. O’SULLIVAN,

Manager.

 

 
 

HAL.

LITE;

.BALSAM. ‘
25C.
,. Ask Your Druggist-

 
 

 

IT IIOIIE.

Don’t go out of town to
have your Awnings
made when you can get
them right here at
home just as cheap.

If you want a canopy

’, for a party or a wed-
ding. I will supply it at
two hours’ notice.

. A letter or postal card
will receive prompt at.
' , ten’tiOn.
P. E. CALLAHAN,
+ . Awning Maker,

53 Cross St. Norwalk.

 

.-. L Rode down the pike to teach her "'1 I

'JIOI’S LITTLE GIRL.

from London, which there split in two,

" the junction, round a. bit of a curve,

~ened the old an’ rotten supports 0’ the

 

 

n...

I char

'FAIR INEZ.

0, saw ye not fair~ Inez? ’ ' ‘
1 She got upon a bike. '
" And folks that saw her start declan
'L‘hey ne'er beheld the like;
'1 She wore a pair of bloomers.
A dickey and a vest;
The neighbors held the wheel for her-
' Fair Inez did the rest. .

7 And with the lovely Inez
‘ A gallant cavalier

To pedal and to steer; _ .
I He whispered airy nothings, .I'si‘I'I‘
He boldly scouted fear. .".-2
‘ Until he struck a. jagged rock a 1 I
I And landed on his ear. .. If“,
‘ I saw the lovely Inez ”as? «I
. Descend along the shore, 4 - _. ‘,
And there was dust all over "I 1 .4: I'
“the bloomers that she wore! ' '
Upon her face she landed. u ..,
She’s beautiful no more— "
2'11 wager such a mixed up mess '9 I
Was never seen before. ’

‘ D

Alas, alas for Inez!
5 She went away with song;
‘ With ri Lbons on her handlebar,
And shoutings of the throng 1
She came back all disordered,
Nor brought her wheel along—
The doctors say ’twill be a month
Before she’s well and strong.
-—Cleveland Leader.

‘izs
‘Iiit’r

No sir, I’m proud an’ thankful to say

that although I’ve been a Signalman :

now for close on a quarter of a‘ century,
I’ve never yet had an accident at my

box. I’ve come very near it on several
occasions, as you may guess; but,
somehow Providence has always

seemed to step in just at the right mo-
ment an’ prevent it.

One case I can call to mind- every bit
as plain now as when it happened, fif-
teen years ago.

At the time I speak of I hadn’t been ;

appointed Signalman at the old junc-
tion down yonder more than a fev
months. ‘

It was a pretty busy box, an‘ there
wasn’t much time hangin’ on your
hands, so. to speak, but what bit there
was I generally employed in polishin‘
up the big levers 0’ steel an’ brass, an'
thinkin’ o’ the wife an’ child at home.

We’d been married about six years
had Jenny an’ me, an’ a happier couple
I don’t think you’d have found any-
where. The house was always com.
fortable an’ nice, an’ as clean as con-
tinual dustin’ an’ scrubbin’ could make
it.

We’d never had but the one child,
little Nelly. She was just five, an' it
would have done your heart good tc
see her, wi’ her Winsome ways and he!
prattlin‘ baby talk.

As for Jenny an’ me, we just idolizec
her, an’ nothin’ less. Nothin’ was toc
good for her. Many a time have I
gone wi.’out tobacco for a week in or-
der that she might have a new pair 0
slippers or new pinafore a bit sooner.

Well, on this particular mornin
things went on much the same as us-
ual, an’ I was kept pretty hard at it till
about 12 o’clock, pulling back the lev-
ers an’ enterin’ up in my book thc
times 0’ the trains as they passed.

After that time I had a bit 0’ slacll
till the 1 o’clock down express was
signalled an’ then Nelly would bring
my dinner down an’ stay playing about
in the box till I’d eaten it.

She came regularly, an’ I used to look
out for her toddlin’ down the footpath
at the side 0’ the line—I’d cautioned
her never to go off it, an’ as'she was
a sharp, little thing, she soon under-
stood why—wi’ my dinner basket hung
over her arm, as proud an’ pleased as
possible to think that she was takin
her dad his dinner. .

The express was late that day, an
I remember wonderin’ what could hay!
delayed it, as it was usually signalled
punctual to the minute. At last, how
ever, I got the ring on the bell tha‘
told me it was approachin' an’ not long
after I heart its rumblin' some two or
three miles away. After I’d pulled my
levers over, an’. set the signals off for
it to run into the station, I went to the
side 0’ the cabin, an’ looked out 0' the '
window.

The first thing that caught my atten-

 

tion was a man, about a hundred yards ,
off, runnin’ wi’ all his might toward}
me, waivin’ his hands an’ pointin' in a!
very excited manner somewhere.

“What’s up now?” thought I, but I
couldn’t make head or tale of his ges-
ticulatin’, so I waited wi’ some impa-
tience for him to get nearer, an‘ then 1
saw that it was one o’ the platelayers
belongin’ to the gang that was workin‘
near by.

“Swith the express on to the loop,
Jim, quick,” he gasped. “The bridge
has fallen in.”

Before I go any further, let me ex—
plain the position 0' things a bit. .

My box was a junction. as I’ve told
you. To the south was the main line’

one comin’ through the station here,
an’ the other missin’ it and goin‘ round
the ‘loop,’ as we call it. On the station
line, about three hundred yards past

was a large trestle bridge over the
river. It was gettin’ considerably old,
an’ they had been talkin’ about re-
newiu’ it for some time past, but some-
how the months had drifted past, an‘
no start had been made on the work
yet. ‘

Instantly I guessed what had hap-
pened. The rains durin’ the last week
or two had been very heavy, an’ the
river was in consequence flooded, an'
runnin’ very strong, an’ the unusual
weight an’ the rush 0’ water had loos-

 

bridge, which never ought to have been l
allowed to get in such a condition, till
it had suddenly come topplin’ over into
the seethin’ an’ boilin’ flood below. I
For a moment I was'staggered by. the
suddenness o’ . the i en‘s, but then I

I “Anything, else?”

the navvy had shouted was the only
thing to do. . - — ‘
i _ It was impossible to pull the expre:s
:up. The driver had seen the signal:

Zofi, an’ knowin’ that he was behind

Etime, was beltin’ along as fast as his
iengine could go. It was afore these
:days 0’ trains fitted from end to end wi
:continuous brakes, that’ll bring a train
éto a stand in fifty yards, an’ I could see
,Ithat unless I switched it on to the loop
:it’d go dashin’ along an’ into the-'rivei
on top 0’ the ill-fated bridge.

I felt a kind 0’ dizziness come over
'me as I thought 0’ all them passengers
a-sittin’ in the carriages comfortably
'readin’ or lookin’ out at the green an
yellow fields as they passed, bein’ sen‘n
,wi’out a word 0’ warnin’ to destruc'
tion, an’ sprang across to pull the lev-
ers back. As, I did so I thought 0’ little
Nellie a-comin’ down the loop wi’ my
dinner, an’ how surprised she'd b:
to see the great express rushin’ towarc
:her, an’ involuntarily I cast a. glance
Eout o’ the window in the direction I
‘knew she’d be comin’.

Aye, there was the little figure i

,loved so well, sure enough; but what
gwas that that ‘made my heart grow
Esuddenly coldwi’in me, an’ sent the
Eblood surgin’ up to my temples till my
'grain felt on fire? Passin’ my hanc
facross my eyes, I looked again—surely
'I must be mistaken!
. No. It was no delusion—there was
my little girl walkin’ in the font foot—
a thing she’d never done afor to my
knowledge—right in the tra a o’ the
advancing express. She had got the
basket in one hand, an’ was holdin
,‘her little liat up in the air wi’ the oth-
er, an’ I almost fancied I could see the
,laugh 0’ childish glee on her face as
3she watched the bright ribbon flutterin
in the breeze.

“Nelly, Nelly!” I shouted, desperate»
'ly, but she evidently didn’t hear, for
3she took no notice.

A sickenin’ foreboding 0’ ill came
over me, an’ I stood wi’ my hands or
the lever irresolute.

If I pulled the lever back it meant al-
most certain death to Nelly—chubby,
rosy-checked little Nelly, the darlin
‘0’ her mother’s heart; the little, win-
some child I’d played wi’ on my knee
,ever since she was a baby, an’ if i

didn’t, it meant equally certain destruc “

tion to the .express, wi’ its heavy

. freight 0’ human bein’s, which was by
this time not more than a couple 0.
hundred yards away.

That terrible struggle between love
an' duty, which took place all inside 0
half a minute, will never be wiped of]
my memory.

“Switch her over, you fool!” yellec
the plate-layer, who had now got close
up to to box, but then he, too, caught
Isight 0’ Nelly, an’ was silent, for per
'haps he too had got a little girl at
home.

His shout did not rouse me, however
for wicked thoughts filled my brain
'Who could say wi’ any certainty what
lwas the reason if I didn’t turn the
'course 0’ that train? Most likely it
would be supposed that the shock had
dazed me, an’ rendered me incapable
'o’ actin’ promptly, as had been the
case wi’ so many men afore me. Why
shouldn’t I let the express go on un-
checked, an’ save Nelly?

Thank God, though, the horrible
temptations wasn’t for long! I was
one, but what was I compared wi’ all
the vast host 0’ wives an’ daughters,
an’ husbands an’ fathers, that would
be thrown into sorrow an’ mournin’
if any accident happened to that train?
I should be branded ever after with the
curse o' murder. an‘ worse than mur-
der.

No. I would do my duty at all haz-
ards, an’ the big drops 0’ sweat droppec
from my forehead as [thought '0’ the
sin I’d been very near committin'.

"Nelly. Nelly!" I shouted through
the window, as loud as my‘ parched
throat would let me. “lie down, lie
down," an' I pointed between the rails;
then, wi’ one brief prayer that came
right from the bottom 0‘ my heart, I
flung the handle back only just in
time.

I heard the points come over, the en
gine almost strikin‘ them as they did
so, but just swarvin’ in time to get on
the loop—~an’ then I knew no more,
for my senses were mercifully taken
away, an’ I fell to the floor 0‘ the cabin
in a dead swoon.

7|: 3|! 2!: 9 It 4: *

When I came to again I was lyin‘ in
my own. room at home, wi‘ Jenny bend-
In‘ over me, an’ passin' her hand over
my hot brow.

.“Nelly,” I murmured, shudderin'ly_
expectin’ to be greeted wi‘ a burst a
sobs. ‘

To my surprise. however. Jenny went
away, an’ in a few seconds, durin
which I lay in a kind 0’ sleepy wonder
not havin’ quite recovered from my
swoon, returned, leadin’ by the hand
our little girl—unharmed!

After I had caught her up in my
arms an’ kissed her passionately again
an’ again they told me how, on hearin
my shout. she had obediently lain down
an’ how the big express. by some mer-
ciful dispensation 0’ Providence. had
passed clean over her wi’out harming
her so much as a scratch. The passen-
gers, when they got to know about it,
collected a sum 0’ money for me, an
called me. a hero, but none 9’ them
ever dreamed 0' that terrible tempta-
tion. ‘

The Buffalo Commercial tells a story
of a little girl who was greatly dis-
turbed by the discovery that her broth-
ers had set traps to catch birds. Ques-
tioned as to ,what she had done in the
matter, She replied: “I prayed that the
traps might not catch the birds."
“Yes,” she said: “1
then prayed that God would prevent
the birds getting into the traps, and,”
as if to illustrate the doctrine of faith
and works, “I went and kicked the

braced myself togethr .an’ saw when ' trains all to pieces."_.

 

 

T HE“ E v E N91 N G G'A’Z ETT E I

1,000,000 PENSIONERS

THIRTY-TWO YEARS AFTER THE
\VAFITHE LIST IS GROWING.

 

 

Last Year. showed an Increase of 12,850,
Ten Years-After the Cessation of Hostil-
ities the Number \Vns Only 234,821 and

Rahiilly Decreasing—A Boom Since ’79._

A statement drawn up at the Pen-
sion Office shows that the number of
pensioners on the roll for June 30, the
end of the last fiscal years, was 983,528.
This prodigious total breaks all
records, the surprising fact being that
nOW, thirty—two years after the close
of the civil war, the number of pen—
sioners is larger than at any preced-
ing time, although the ravages of
death among the survivors of the war
are now becoming so great. In other
words, the influx to the list still ex—
ceeds the increasing outflow.

In 1865, the last year of hostilities,
the number of pensioners on June 30
was set down at 85,986. A year later
it got into six' figures, with 126,722.
The increase thenceforward. was
steady, yet moderate, until 207,495 was
reached in 1871. Two years later, in
1873, what then appeared to be its
maximum was attained, June 30 show-
ing 238,411; for the following year it
fell to 236,241, thl; being the first de-
crease in a dozen years. The next
June there was a falling off to 234,821;
the next, to 232,137; the next, to 232,-
104; the next, to 223,998. 4

But then, just as a continuing ebb,
with these five successive years, seem—
ed assured, the tide turned. The Ar-
rears and other pension acts made a
vase difference. In 1879, the record for
June 30 rose ‘to 242,755, and each suc-
ceeding June from that time has
shown an increase, larger or smaller,
up to the'one just past. In 1883 the
number had grown to 303,658; in 1887,
to 406,007, while in 1890 it passed the
half-million mark, June 30 of that
year showing 537,944.

Thereafter it took prodigious bounds,
influenced largely by the Disability
Pension act. The first year’s jump
was nearly 140,000, to 676,160 in 1891;
while even that was outdone by an in-
crease of nearly 200,000 in the follow-
ing twelve months, to 876,068. A third
increase brought the number to 966,012
on June 30, 1893.

Just there, however, when there was
a general expectation of reaching the
million mark the following June, since
fewer than 34,000 net additions were
required to do it, the annual gain
dwindled to a few thousand, the num-
ber reached being 969,544. The next
year the gain was smaller yet, not
quite a thousand, the total being 970,-
524. When, therefore, last year, the
gain fell off to only 154, the total being
970,678, it seemed an easy prediction
that this. year there would be an actual

'loss, and that the ebb would again set

1n. .
But, on the contrary, the gain is the
striking one of 12,850, or the biggest in
four years; and with only 16,472 more
to be made up, the million mark may
soon be reached.

Thirty-two years after the end of the
civil war, the. number of pensioners
on account of that war exceeds by
about a quarter of a million the num-
ber of soldiers actually engaged in ser-
vice in all the armies of the Govern-
ment at any time between the firing
upon Sumter and the surrender of Lee
at Appomattox. The army of pension-
ers after a third of a century is be-
tween thirty nd forty per cent. larger
than the fighting army at any one
time during the war.

Since the end of the war more than
two billion dollars, that is to say, more
than two thousand million dollars, has
been paid out in pensions.

This is two-thirds of what the ci'il ,

war in its entirety cost the govern-
ment.

It was in 1872 that James A. Gar-
field, whose patriotism and liberal dis-
position toward his fellow veterans no
one will deny, declared that the pen—
sion list was then “swollen beyond all
account.” “I am the last man,” he ex-
claimed in the House of Representa-
tives, “to say- a word against voting
pensions to all persons who deserve
them. But I wishlto say to the House
that more frauds are being perpetrated
on the Government by claim agents in
difierent parts of 'the country than
from almost any other single source.”
In that same year, 1872, Gen. Garfield,
as Chairman of the Committee on Ap-
propriations, expressed the opinion,
which we have frequently quoted, that
“we may reasonably expect .that the
expenditures for pensions will hereaf-
ter steadily decrease, unless our leg—
islation should be unwarrantably ex-
travagant.”

And since that patriotic and pro-
phetic warning of Garfield’s the num-
ber of pensioners has quadrupled, the
annua‘ .expenditure has inoreased five-
fold. a; '11 the total outlay of the Gov-
ernment has reached two billion dol-
lars!

Mertie—Was he nervous when he
asked you to marry him?

Marie—Well, I thought at the~ time
that he was rather nervy.—New York
Journal.

DIVIDED AFFECTION.

 

Bell—And so they were happily mar-
ried ‘2 .
Nell—Yes; each of them married
sombody else. ~

 

 
 

 

The superb cake of Toilet Soap in‘every
package of Ivorine supplies all that a

Wasnmo Downer,

”family needs and saves many a bill for

 

 
 

Toilet Soap in the course of a year. . .

THE J. B. WILLIAMS 00., Glastonbu

 

 

 

 

L

THE MEXICAN SHEPHERD’BOY.

They Control their Flock by the Use of
n. Sling.

When going up the valley of the
Rio Grande, in New Mexico, my at-
tention was drawn to the flocks of
sheep and goats, and their pastores, of
shepherd boys. These little shepherds
wore neither hats nor shoes. Their
only garment was a. tunic, reaching
a little below the knee and.confined by
a girdle, from which depended a small
pouch or scrip. A quiver, with bow
and arrows, hung athwart the should-
ers, and the right hand held a sling.
Presently a stonegfrom the scrip was
hurled forward toward the right or
left. to make the flock swerve to the
left or right. It was impossible net
to recognize little “David, the son of
Jesse,” and one might have almost ex-
pected to behold Goliath, the Philistine
coming to defy the children of Israel.

The portraiture of the scene de-
scribed the Bookof Samuel was too ex-
act to be ascribed to accident, and, for
the first time it occurred to me that
David bore a sling not for the purpose
of slaying bears or lions—or even
Philistines—but to guide and control
the flock,- and that these little shep-
herds of a kindred race, dwelling in a
country not unlike the pastoral regi-
ons of Judea, very naturally continued
to re-enact the scenes described in
sacred history—Catholic World.

 

She Was Excused. "A

A pleasant story of her youth is told
by an old lady whose early home was
in Concord, Mass, says the Youth’s
Companion. She was on her tardy way
to school, crying in anticipation of dis-
grace and possible punishment, when
'a deep voice by her side said:

“What is troubling you, my child?"

Between her sobs Annie explained.

“I will write a note to you-r teacher,
,asking'her to excuse you,” said the
stranger, kindly.

The little girl protested. He did not
know her teacher. It would be of no
use. But the big, black-haired man
had written a few words on a page oi
his note-book, and, tearing out the leaf,
handed it to the child.

“If you give your teacher that, 1
think she will excuse 'you,‘ he said,
smilingly. _

Still unbelieving, the little girl hand-
.ed the paper to her teacher, who read
its contents and promptly excused the
delinquent. The note read:

"Will Miss —— excuse Annie for
being late and oblige her most obed‘
lent servant, Daniel Webster.”

She Ably P’Krried the Question.

A lady who is a city missionary be«
came much'interested in a poor but
ppparently respectable Irish family
named .Curran, living on the top floor
of a great tenement house in the slum
district. - ’ '

hvery time she visited the Currans.

-.e missionary was annoyed by the
....i ing and the whispering of the other
.omen living in the building. One
.zy she said to Mrs. Curran:

"Your neighbors seem to be very
Lricus to know who and what I am
..d the nature of my business with
J11.”

“They do,” acquiesced Mrs. Curran.

“Do they ask you about it?”

“Indade they do, ma’am.”

“And do you tell them?"

“Faith, thin, an’ 0i do not.”

“What do you tell them?”

“0i just tell thim. you are me dress-
maker, an’ let it go at tha .”—Harper’s
Bazar.

Conn.
Makers of Williams Famous Shaving Soaps. Write Iorillustnted ntangue ofcholcepmnlums.

ll

 
 

BULLETLPROOF CLOTH?

Test Tried on a Dog and only Made Him
Whimper.

A new cloth which stops bullets has

been invented. Its efficiency has
been proved in Chicago. The tests
were made before men of science and
others interested in the practical work-
ing of the invention. It was a. thor-
oughly serious affair.

The tests were made at the Chicago
College of Surgical Dentistry. They
were conducted by Dr. L. Borland and
Lieutenant Sarnecki, of the Austrian
Army, a friend of the inventor. The
latter, who was present, is Brother
Casimar Zaglan, a lay member of a
religious order. He urges the adoption
of his invention in the interests of
humanity. Seven doctors were pres-
ent, and also the representatives of the
Humane Society, as an experiment was
to be made on a live dog.

The progress of making this is kept
secret. It looks like a kind of silk
cloth braid, and is about half an inch
in thickness.

The cloth was tried on the dog. A
cloak of ordinary cloth was wrapped
around him, and a shield of the bul-
let—proof material was tied on one
side.

Lieutenant Sarnecki fired a .38 cali-
bre revolver at him and hit the shield
fair and square. The dog wagged his
tail to indicate that nothing unpleas—
ant had occurred.

The ordinary cloth was then re-

.moved and the shield tied to his side.

A .44 calibre was fired at him. The
shock staggered him and he whimper-
ed somewhat. When examined he was
found to be quite sound. Probably he
was slightly bruised—New York Jour-
nal.

u

 

oao MEDARIES THAT‘SMOKE‘ CIGARS.

Travelers Resort to It to Control and Keep
the Beast Up to Its “'ork.

There is no reason why a dromedary
should not be partial to a good cigar.
Most dromedaries, according to a me-
uagerie proprietor, are particularly
fond of tobacco. smoke, and can. be

' made to do almost anything under its

. anything else.

 

influence. II
"Travelers in Egypt,” he asserts
‘rely more on tobacco smoke for their
control over these huge beasts than
When traveling 0n
long journeys the dromedaries are in
any cases required to travel night
and day without rest, and the beasts
are kept up to their tasks by smok-
ing cigars. The driver carries a tri-
angular piece of wood, which is pierced
at one point like a cigar holder. This
is inserted in the mouth of the beast,
the cigar being lit and pressed into the
hole in the same fashion followed by
man. ,
"The dromedary immediately closes
lts eyes and puffs away through its nos-
trils until the cigar is burned away.”—
Answers. .
.. Dings’b'Isselllble. .
In the Nile region of Egypt, infested
s it is with crocodiles, the native dogs
ften have considerable trouble in Se-
:uring a drink at the river’s edge, say:
.he Baptist Union. But their experi-
ence has taught them cunning, and tha
average dog knoWs how to effect a wily“
and successful bit of strategem. HI‘
.guns up the river a little way and be.

. gins a plaintive howling. The dull

:rocodiles, attracted by the sound
.warm straightaway to the spot.
whereupon the dog, laughing with his
ail, hastily runs to the part of the
river vacated by the reptiles and satis
.es his thirst.

 

 

, THE ORIGINAL

Stamped “BOSS”
' Always the Same

 
 

 
 

 

 

 
 
 

lights the way an
nickel-plated—no tin; outside oil-filler; eaten
packed oil foont; double convex ground'pboto
lensgbums kerosenc.tluowsalight90 (Land
weighs but 12 ounces.
Three years a leader, and three you!
improvements now added. Absolutely the,
handsomest and best bicycle lamp ever made.‘

Sold by all leading dealers. ,
THE PLACE 8t TERRY MFG. CO»

247 CentreMew York.

,Seedurnew

 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

per lamp-the “Searcher.” ..

 
 

 

 

 

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