2
NORWALK
WHAT CAN SHE DO?
What can a helpless female do?
Rock the cradle and bake and brew!
Or, if no cradle your'fate adord, .
Rock your brother’s wife‘s for your board.
9r live in one foom with an invalid cousin,
0r sew slop shirts fora dollar a dozen,
0r pl _"_' some ma '.hy lookigpweet,
Or pl 'hliilfihxgi. " li_' toeat. .
.‘lr please him by asking. much advice,
And thinking whatever he does is nice.
Visit thepoornnderhis‘supervisiom’ “
Doctor. the sick-wno cap’t payaphysieiansu
Save hifie'eiialehy doing theiriiitumgn .
And. Other cediqhsthere‘s .llQDmfiem-in
But if you presume to usurpemp'loyments
Reserved by them fo‘atheirspecial enjoyments;
Or if you-sucwedwhen theykncWiQ-lmuldn‘t
Or earn money fast when they said you couldn‘t
Or learn to do things they proved were above you,
You’ll hurt their feelings and then theywon’t
‘-ilove"ybui . - .. - ' »
,- ~, .. ~ - “Journal of Women‘s Work.
ENVY-AND COliPAS'SlOll.
It was a beautiful spring day. The sky
was blue, the little birds twittering in the
tree tops made the earth gay with their
songs. Through the green forest might have
been seen two children walking, a " brother
and a sister. ' ‘
“What were their names?” interrupted the
eldest of a party of girls, who had gathered
about the fire to listen to a story.
The boy’s name was Neidhart—can you re-
member that, my clears? It is the German
word for envy. , ’
He was pale, had restless eyes and black
hair, being altogether a contrast to his sister,
a lovely blonde, gentle and fair. Her parents
had named her Mitleid. orcompassion. .
The boy and girl were alone in the world,
their father and mother having died; and
now they were starting out like the children
of a fairy tale to seek their fortunes.
They had divided the little inheritance left
them by their parents, or rather, the selfish
Neidhart had strapped round his own body
the bag of gold coins which had been left
them both, and the few jewels he had taken
care to thrust into his own pocket, while his
sister was allowed to keep only one small
hoop that her mother had worn on her finger
for many years.
But Mitleid, with her sunny spirit, was
quite contented with this division, and at the
time of which I have been speaking, she wan-
dered along after Neidhart, nodding to the
bright colored blossoms that so joyously lifted
their heads from the grass, without once
being tempted to pluck them and cast them
aside, as that wicked Neidhart was continu-
all doing.
ghee she stood still to call up to a cuckoo
on a rocking fir branch, that he must
take care or he would make himself
hoarse with his chatter! Then, again, she
stopped to help an industrious ant to collect
pine needles which she needed for building
her skillfully contrived new house.
But Neidhart neither saw the beauty of
the spring nor heard the happy voices of the
birds. He was thinking only of all the gold,
rings in his possession, and suddenly it seem?
cd to him that there were no more precious
treasures upon this earth than these of money
and jewels.
The expression upon his face grew harder
and harder minutel-"r minute, and the glance
of his evil eyes grow more and more mali-
cious.
Poor Neidhart!
“Just you wait, you stupid child,” he mur-
mured between his teeth, as he walked along,
“till evening comes. You’ll see then how I’ll
pull that ring off your finger, and I’ll put out
those pretty eyes of yours with my sharp
knife. '1' on always say God protects all good
little children. You can see whether he will
help you to find your way out of this dark
wood when I am gone and you are blind l”
...cp.xii
After this he refused to speak another word .
to Mitleid, but led her deeper and deeper into
the forest, where the trees stood so close to-
gether that it was quite dark.
Mitleid, thinking no evil, walked trustingly
on behind the wicked boy. She knew that he
was constantly out of temper, and that he
rarely had a good word for anybody, but
worse than that she could not think of him.
The path became much rougher *as they
went on, so that at last Mitleid’s tender little
feet grew sore with walking. ,
Gradually her strength began to fail.
Finally she sank down—she could go no far-
thei‘.
“Let us rest under this linden tree,” en-
treatc l Mitleid, breathing fast, as she seated
herself upon an old gnarled stump. “You
must be wcary, too, Neidhart,” she said, in
her sweet voice.
“A boy is not so easily tired, you silly thing,
you!
ing to part company. But you may give me
that ring first. It is much too good for you!”
“Oh, dear brother! it is the only thing I
have belonging to my dearest mother”—
"Be quiet!” interrupted Ncidhart harshly,
at the some time roughly seizing her delicate
little wrist.
ingly you’ll repent it in a trice!”
Isiitleid was quite terrified by her brother’s
uinmcustomcd fiei'ceness. She sat still with-
out inoving, and without being able to speak
a. word: but she gazed up into his face with
deep reproach shining forth from her gentle . , .
; trate their use: “The elder son is the most
eyes.
ulilc to bear.
('1‘? lunccd for ring, he tore his knife from its
shcziih :iizd (‘i'll'l'lt‘ll out his wicked purpose.
The) sizing; his Lug; which he had laid down
for {lac moment, he hurried away, like one
And for that reason you and I are go- ‘
“If you don’t give it to me will— ,
, . . 1
his rcproachful glance Neidhart felt un—
Trembling with eagerness for 3
who, haunted by a bad, bad conscience. is i
anxious 10 get out of the sight of his victim '
as; quickly as possible.
l our mile girl! licr sight being destroyed,
she was 2.:7 longer able to follow the robber.
would have borne having their secrets dis-
covered?
“Yes,” said the bear in an important tone,
“if the king there inhis castlebeyond the
forest knewgtha‘this daughter was kept con-
cealed in the depths-of the woods by the rob,-
bers Who-stole her-,E‘he would; " happy.,..-.He
has songht.the.vanished prin‘ ”now fenan
entire rear; andrtber
“My advice to the king would be to bathe
hiseyesin- thewdew that falls from'the' linden ‘
t,” said the fox..'..$§lt,..wouldi enable;
see again—yes, ‘much'b'e‘tter evcn‘tli'an
before.”— - . - ‘
“He knows just as little what treasures are
in my possession here at thefoot of this tree,”— ‘
said -the-snake,~witlr a-wiseshakezof itsrhead‘. :
“There are pearls and jewels buried here in
such numbers that all the distress in the
kingdomhcould be done away with were they
only once sold!” . .
Meanwhile the morning had come. The
animals now began to wish each other a po-
lite farewell, and each went his own way. -
. Mitleid spent little timein thought. With
a short prayer to the holy Father of usall, she
bathed her eyes with the'dew from the linden
tree, and behold! a-miracle Was performed."
Mitleid saw once more the rosy-sky, the
flowers that she loved, and the whole won-
ders of nature; and from the depths of her
grateful heart she thanked her Lord for his
mercy in putting an end to her sufferings.
Slowly and carefully the little girl descend-
ed to the earth. She hesitated a moment
which direction she should take in order to
reach the king’s castle as soon as possible.
There was in the distance asonnd of fee
tiv1ty that quiet morning. The church bells
were ringing for the early service. These
bells served as a guide to Mitleid, and full of
happiness and courage she started forth.
It seemed a short time only to Mitleid when
she saw towering up before her the gilded
pinnacles of the castle shining in the sun.
She would have knocked at the castle gate,
but quite of itself, all at once, it flew back,
as though the little girl were expected, and
out stepped the king followed by his entire
court.
He was richly dressed in clothing embroi-
dered with gold and he wore a shining crown
on his white hair; but Mitleid’s heart ached
for the poor old man—he looked so sad, and
he was also forced to be led by one of his
knights.
Yes, it was true; he was totally blind.
Mitleid went modestly up to the king, in a
low tone begging permission to tell him
something that she was sure would give him
very great happiness.
The king bowed pleasantly. The sound of
this sweet young voice had moved him
strangely, and seeing this, all turned wonder-
ingly at the little maiden who in her white
robe had appeared so suddenly from the
depths of those great forests near by. In
simple words Mitleid told her story. When
she had finished, the king announced his in-
tention of visiting the linden.
Placing his hand in that of Mitleid she led
him forward to the marvelous tree, and
when the dew was placed upon his eyes,
through the grace of God, he was once more
able to see.
At the same instant the forest resounded
with the ring of happy voices and the clank-
ing of weapons. A brave knight rode up to
the king and presented his newly liberated
daughter, whom the old man clasped to his
rejoicing heart with tears of th'ankfulness.
In his excessive joy he could scarcely find
words in which to thank Mitleid.
“Child, child,” he faltered at last, while he
fondly stroked the fair curls of the lovely
child, “every wish shall be granted you.”
Then Mitleid quickly entreated the king to
grant her the treasure that the snake had
made known to her. All were astonished at
the nieasureless wealth that was now brought
to light. But the snake slipped softly away,
knowing that the hidden treasure was now in
good hands.
Mitleid kept neither the costly pearls nor
sparkling jewels for herself.
Unwcariedly the gentle maiden wandered
over the earth in sunshine and storm, in sum-
mer’s heat and winter’s cold, doing whatever
good she found to do, distributing her gifts
as; often as she found poverty and distress.
«tannin was indeed a blessing to all who came
'within her ken.
But close behind her, like a shadow, stole .
the wicked Neidhart, full of jealousy and I valuable original observations on the habits
hatred for all those who shared his generous
sister’s boundless wealth.
Take care, dear children, that you keep the
bolts fast shut when he knocks at the door of
your little hearts; for, alas! a foothold once
gained by envy, hatred or malice, compas-
sion will fly away from you, and oh, my dar-
lings, she will never return.
. sex. 115 mashed“ his
' eyes blind ’i'ii’liié ”sorrow.”
Upon the earth’s broad surface there is no ;
unhappier being than achild who has sent
compassion away from her heart and her
home, and has given that wicked envy a
place instead—Elizabeth Abercrombio in In-
dependent.
A Short Lesson.
Discriminate in the use of the preposition
of after the adverb off. Don’t say: “Six
yards of silk were cut off of that piece;”
“The apples dropped off of that tree.” Omit
the of.
Be careful how you employ the words older
and elder. Two or three examples will illus-
gifted in the family; he is older than his
brother by five years.” “He is the older
soldier of the two, and the oldest in the regi-
ment” “He is the elder of the two poets,
and the oldest poet ill the i‘ealiii.”
ller Success.
The Critic learns from somewhere that
Olive Schricncr, the author of that strange
"‘ tory of an African Farm,” has developed
j from aplain, shy, retiring girl into a brilliant,
At first she cullcd loudly, “Ncidhurt! Neiil- [
hart l”
"Neid-liart-lmrt-hartI" l‘cpcai‘cd the echo.
Her brothcr 1:.adc the deserted little one no
answer, and yet it did not seem lonely in that
great forest. Suddenly
a beauty.
self poised woman, with many pretensions to
“Nothing succeeds like success” has
been often said, and some other wise man has
' cst
all about )Iiitleid‘
were many strange sounds—n rustling and :
fluttering, and 1;';~...p.ng, and hissing, and
unwing, and gi'oxviiii and i'0ni'ii:g——the
earth almost 5 ed to rock beneath the
(r
an
heavy trend of 12:9 ad vaucing iiumbcrsol’ cni— '
inals.
Mitleid could soc nothing. but she was Soon .
convinced that the crcaturcs were coming
nearer and ncurcr every moment: coming
from every direction at once.
noted the fact that happiness makes the plain-
woman beautiful. By the time Miss
Schricner has launched a few more books,
and learned the ways of publishers and pt
rates, she may perhaps feel like retiring to
some African wild to restore her good looks
and nervous systcin.—Pittsburg Bulletin.
Good for the Health.
Jenks (who has taken to horseback riding
and bounces about ten inches at every step)
' —Ah! How-dy-do, Blinks? I think horseback
‘ riding is good for the health, don’t you?
In her fear she know not where to turn. ‘
She breathed a short prayer to the kind I92.-
ther of us all that she might not perish. She
then sought refuge in the tree above her, and
to her joy found strength had been given her
to reach the topmost branch.
Here her alarm subsided. Her eyes gave
her bitter pain, but after a little this became
more bearable, and soon she was able to oc- l
cupy her thoughts with the voice that arose
from the foot of the linden.
This was the night when all the animals,
great and small, meet together under that
linden tree. Once a year they do this, and
he who is fortunate enough to be hidden in
the tree during that night can understand
everything that is said among them.
.
l
l
l
l
Blinks—Yes, indeed. All who see you will
be benefited. “Laugh and grow fat,” you
known—New York Weekly.
Gratitude.
Mr. Brown (to stranger who has saved him ‘
from drowning)—My dear, good friend, I’ll
never forget you as long as I live! Come up
to my store and get some nice, clean, dry
clothes; I’ll let you have themascheapas
anybody—Epoch.
He Will, Indeed.
“It is strange how oysters have changed in
‘ the last ten years.”
Mitleid not knowing this, thought a con-I:
clave of wise old men was being held below,.
therefore she kept as still as a little mouse,
that she might not be the means of disturb-
ing them. This was a very good thing, how-
ever. for who knows how the creatures
“I haven’t noticed any change.”
“Well, you try a ’79 oyster and then swal-
low one of the ’89 vintage, and you’ll perceive
a great difference—Harper’s Bazar.
111m longest American railway tunnel is the
' Hoosac tunnel on the Fitchburg road. Its
length is four and three-fourths miles.
,.l.-
H..._p . .a- "' --\
GAZETTE, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 23 1889.
SOME BLIND WONDERS.”
MEN ”WITHOUT SIGHT 'wHo HAVE
AdeMELlSHED 3 GREAT THINGS. . ‘
One :l'Vho‘E Surveyed, Built Bridges, and
x Rode to nomads—A . :smime‘sg flotickct
Player — Blind 7 Posts, Scientists I and
Theologians: """ " ‘ '_' iv ’
Today it is; proposed to discuss the "remark;
able things. which have- been accomplished
by persons deprived of sight. . V, , -, A,
Where the list v-properlyrbegias thewriter
willmt-attempttesm—aThe- genesis of. this
list will appropriately commence, if not
with, then near, the beginning of theChris- '
tian era-with~ Eusebius, the blind theologian.
ACCOunts vary as to the time he lived. One .
says that he was ' born near the close of the
third. oentufl, about A. D. 296, find that he
died at the age of 44in, the yearalo. The bulk '
of evidence, however, forces us ,t9:tl¥°‘90!l°1!.17
sion that he was born! about 315 and diedin
340 at'the age of 25 years, twenty of which
were spent in total-blindness. It is greatly to
the credit of this man,- whose light went out
forever just as he Was merging from'infancy.
that in the few short years he lived, en-
shrouded in perpetual darkness, he should
become one of the best known of the early
Christian‘writers, and be known even to this
day as one of the fathers of ecclesiastical
history. .
. sons 3mm) Pours. -
Henry, the author of the “Poetic Lifeo
Wallace,” was born blind. He early exhibit-
ed wonderful imaginative faculties, which
were turned to good account in the pro-’
duction of the book mentioned. The“
unique character of the work caused itfip'
have a wide circulation, making the name of.
Henry, the minstrel, more familiar to the
rhyme loving" common people of the British
Isles than that of the most. standard prose
writer. - .
Hermann Torrentins, a blind Swiss, born
in 1520, became one of the principals of the
University of Berne, the author of a poetical
dictionary of rare merit, besides works on
histOry and botany.
John Milton, the great English writer of
prose and verse, best known as the author of
“Paradise Lost,” was totally blind during.
the last yeaisof his life. Properly he may
not belong to this list, having had forty-six
years of daylight in which to'complete his
studies before impenetrable and perpetual
night shrouded him in its inky gloom. , I hav
only mentioned him in this connection in
order to open the way for a broad assertion,
via: That two of the greatest poets known
to history, Milton and Homer, were both
blind.
Thomas Blacklock, D. D., one of the most
learned men of the Eighteenth century, was
born in 1721 and died in 1791. He was blind
at the age of 3 months. Notwithstanding the
discouraging circumstances under which he
labored, Dr. Blacklock became one of the
most eminent men of the times. He was the
trusted friend of Hume, the free thinker, and
of Burns, the Scottish lyrist. A contempo-
raneous writer, speaking of the polished doc—
tor, said: “He was a child of humble parent-
age, but has now won for himself, before he
has reached what men call the middle age,
the designation of an accomplished scholar, a
cultivated thinker and a poet of high order.
His accomplishmaits, won under the most
oppressive disadvantages, give us a wonder-
ful exhibition of the powers of mind to over-
come seemingly insurmountable obstacles.”
Dr. Blacklock was an ordained minister, but
his friendship for Hume, as mentioned above,
caused the flock to rebel against their shep-
herd, which finally resulted in the doctor’s
expulsion. Had Blacklock never lived the
name of Robert Burns would, perhaps, never
have been known in the werld of letters.
The embryo poet was on the point of ship-
ping for the West Indies, when a letter from
Blacklock caused him to change his mind.
and saved tothe world one of its greatest
writers of verse.
A GREAT NATURALIST.
Francois Huber, the Swiss naturalist, lost
his sight at an early age, became an eminent
entomologist, and wrote on bees, ants and
other insects. His son, Pierre, and a servant
named Rurnens aided him in making many
of these creatures. Although the servant and
son rendered invaluable aid, it was admitted
by both that the elder Huber was the master
mind in the preparation of their many books
and papers on entomology, zoology and me-
teorology. Many believe that Huber would
have become as eminent in his special branches
as either Humboldt or Cuvicr could he have
had the use of his eyes.
HUNTER, DRIVER AND SURVEYOR.
John Mctcalf, a most wonderful produc-
tion of the last century, was born at Knarcs—
borough, Yorkshire, England, in 1717. At
the age of 4 years a hard attack of the mea-
sles struck him totally blind—so blind that
the brightest rays of the sun gave him no
perception of light. Yet he did not give up
in despair. A calamity had overtaken him
which would have benumbed the faculties of
aless courageous man forever. Not so with
John Metcalf. It seemed only to brighten
his remaining'senses. At first he learned
music, and, at the age .of 12, was the most
expert violinist in all England. When he
arrived atinau’s estate 116 was owner of a
house, a small farm and a horse and car-
riage. At the age of ‘33 he was a well
known carrier, engaged in the occupation
of carrying persons through the crowd-
cd streets to and from places of amuse-
ment. Besides his street work he fre-
quently engaged to carry travelers to
York, a distance of sixteen miles. In all
this hazardous work he was as trusty
as any man with two eyes, and got into but
few difficulties from which he could not
easily extricate himself. He became a great
hunter and f ollowcd the bounds with as much
pleasure and as surely as the most keen oycd
hunter. He had his own horse and could tell
the buying of his own hounds among hun- ‘
dreds. At the age of 40 he began the study of
surveying and bridgc'buildlng. This not for
idle pastime, but for profit. At one time he
was the oillcial surveyor of Yorkshire. Even
to this day there are dozens of monuments to
J ohu Metcalf in his native shire in the shape
of elegant road beds and splendid bridges.
At Huddersfield one of the finest and most
substantial bridges is known to have been
constructed by him. V‘v'liat he could have ac-
complished with organs of sight unimpaired
we can only conjecture—J Olin ‘W. Wright
in‘ St. Louis Republic. ‘
A Blind Man W110 Could See.
A beggar was sitting in a New York street,
holding out a battered hat. The following
placard was hung about his neck: “Please,
good people, help a poor blind man who was
once rich, but who has been reduced from af-
fluence to poverty. You will never regret
it.” Presently along came a pleasant faced
man with a sharp, shrewd eye. He looked
at the poor old beggar curiously for a 1110'
ment, and then suddenly drew back his arm
as though to strike him a blow in the face. '
The movement was only a foint, but it served
the purpose. The beggar jumped back about
a yard and started on a run up the avenue,
winding his way in and out among the pass-
ing vehicles with wonderful skill for a blind
mam—Now York Star. '
.. a..- . --i.—--c . -v Q... -... ‘
THEruJNCH IN PUBLIC.
Honsés rAKE Thain MIDDAY MEAi'.
oN THE cwvsrngma ‘
Sights: ll‘amillar filvfllmifiupllcatedgm
Metropolitan" ‘7 Thorduihfares4'! ea‘ixii‘één
Tm ““53 l" 557's! 1""??? Easiest tallies-
Stables. I , _ ‘- .. .', _ ‘7
It is'a common saying that Chicago’s‘groht
' ambition is fully equale‘d‘by" her energy. ' The
, -. youngest mother of a'millionsoulsin pl ' =t
- earth, she amazes sister citieii’by'the‘aii
all
possible into verity. . . . , , ,
, So very young, it would be passing strange
if she had cast aside all the giddinsss of fecal
hood. There yet clings‘ahout her, _ reminders,
of the days when a single in could well care
for all her visitors, and 'whén farming, on
court days fed theirwhoxses in the striiet.
There is nothing small about Chicago, and
she is so sturdily independent that her sons
have caught her spirit and do as they please
if the fancy suits them, and- while rejoicing
in innovations, they do. not sample; to cling
and time and labor. saving, even though it
have about it the air of antiquity.
cuaasron srnnaps. .
The stranger that is within, her gates, as
well as those native and to the manner born,
may and doubtless do see what obtaina in
expectancy of eclipsing New York in popula:
tion and London in wealth. will not do for
Chicago. This practice which has clung per-
tinaciously in all the mutations of time is
,uOthing more or less than the feeding of
horses on the public highway. ' Go where one
will between the hours of 11 and 3 and he
may see horses of all ages and conditions
crunching oats enjoyably. Some have food
bags muzzling their jaws; othersarooontent-
odly eating from soap boxes, and still there
are more which modestly gather theirs in
from the stones of the street. '
Nor must it fora moment be supposed that
this great crowd of _ feeders is. owned by un-
fashionables from the rural districts, who
with economic forethought bring in the
grain from their own bins. Contrariwiss
the animals are city owned, many of whose
masters are owners of great. warehouses;
othu's are the property of cab and back com—
panies; others yet are humble drawers of ex-
prem wagons. One may see the massive Por-
cheron, the ponderous Clydesdale and the
handsome Morgan, as well as the infinite va-
riety of scrub stock thick skinned and inert.
Scattered among the fat and sleek are the
lame, the halt and the blind, but all .
of vigorous appetites and apparently indif-
ferent to the fact that, like Louis XV of
France on stated occasions, they are dining
in sight of all the, people. , ,
Nor is any street too sacred or too crowded
for this outdoor dining. Not only are the
dray horses of Franklin and Market streets
fed on those busy thoroughfares, but also
along staid La Salle, fast developing Dear-
,born, fashion gathering State, crowded and
packed South. Water, bustling Clark and
hustling Fifth avenue—on each and every
one of these may be seen daily, as well as
upon others not named, lines of horses tum-
bling to their cats and oats only; for “long"
feed is denied the faithful animals. at their
midday repast. Incidentally, it may be said
that horses in the British army are “edu-
cated” to rejection 'of all kinds of fodder,
living upon an exclusive diet of grain. The
stomachs of these animals, by that felicitous
faculty of adaptation of one’s self to changed
conditions, become very much, contracted,
and if any pass into the hands of farmers
they must again be “educated” by slow de-
grees to acceptance of hay. ’
This fact is thrown out in order to empha-
size a statement made by a man Well up in
horse knowledge to a reporter, to the effect
that horses accustomed to hay are not bene-
fited by a meal of grain only; that just as the
goose and the ostrich must have gravel as
aids to digestion, so the enormous stOmach of
the equine demands buy or some other “fill-
ing” substance to go along with the grain.
He declares he never, under any circum-
stances, gives oats alone to his many horses.
“It’s against nature, and too trying on their
digestive apparatus,” he declared.
Apropos to long feed, it may not be gener-
ally known that iii some parts of England
and of this country sawdust is used as a sub-
stitute for hay. Horses are readily brought
to this diet by the help of salt, their fondness
for which will lead them to swallow the
requisite quantity of sawdust if it have a
sprinkling of salt in it. It is claimed by
high authorities that there is more nutrition
in sawdust than in hay, and that animals
actually thrive better under a diet of the
former than of the latter. ‘
“no SIXTEEN counsn DINNER.”
Why this feeding of horses on the street,
this practice so common in villages, but cast
aside usually as soon as young cityhood is
first reached? This query was propounded to
a drayman on Franklin street as he stood
with folded arms regarding his team of giant
horses at their luncheon.
“You’d oughter know y’rself. The man
what sits ahead in this yer city’s got to hustle
Jcr it. Us fellers don’t have no sixteen course
dinners, ’n’ we don’t have for take a couple
uv hours for our wine. The business afore
us is haulin’. He’s the best f eller that gits in
the most time ’n’ loads. That’s the size uv it.
It’s economy. S’posin’ one druv two ur
he’d be loslu’ half his day fur nawthin’.
Horses beant over nice about catin’. Man ’n’
boy, I’ve been drivin’ a team twenty year,
- ’n’ my experience is that a horse’s taste lays
altogether in the summit of feed ’ii’ not in
how it’s give to him. A pine box is just as
sweet to him as a' mahogany trough. Sence
his feelin’s ain’t hurt by eatin’ outdoorsI
Can’t sec no use uv other folks complainin’.”
N0 greater anomaly, no stranger thing in
all this big city of curiosities, is presented
'tllilll that of these thousands of harnessed
' horses leisurely eating their oats, with air as
independent as though they owned all they
-‘ saw. Probably. they do, as their eyes» rarely
i get beyond, their ' grain. Youth is as stoical
as age, the colt of four summers being as
staid, sodatc and as settleddown to business
as'th’e old mare of twenty. They may not be
epicurean in theirtastes, but they are hearty.
They may. not exactly understand why they
should have their dining halls along, the
streets, but such lack of knowledge docs not
give themindigestion. , ;'
In silence they eat what is laid before them,
and, like the thrifty and economical farmer
of Pawtunk, leave nothing upon their plums.
' One old fellow, whic’hfeeds near the corner
of Fifth avenue and Lake streets, hash cry-
ories, and' he really does look as though he
had been here ever since the “forties,” had
seen the entire growth of the city, mourned,
the death of thousands, and was infinitely
humiliated because he mst needs expose the
weakness of an enori‘nous appetite to so many
strangers. Game at him for a moment, and
his eyes will glance 'reproachfully, as though
he had said: "I lmow better, but it isn’t my
fault. If I had my way I’d eat indoors, like
white people.” Still he seems to be altogether,
an exception, the remaining animals being
about as lndiderent to. the. habit as their mas-
tors,,who compelthei‘ii so‘ To eat—Chicago
‘HWde . , . . ..
0‘ ~-
'1
“country, hutvrif—wthey'wi'eremore within the
. linguistic ijesonrcesof -* English readers eager,
. Vishodatnot a few --items of news reported.
. Had newspapers been published in A. D. 1400
idlondon, they would, we fancy, have fre» .51
:aepatlrrshresisledsimiler events textbose we:
with which she-convertsiitlio iseemfii'glylim- ~
tenaciously to a practice' that i8,:-§011.Y;9‘1§9M -
Porridgeville. whose-309 soulsrlivpihslivaly ,
three ur five ur six mile to his barn ’n’ back, .
ing sort of face, one that hints at great ,mem- .
Russian Superstition.
The Russians were the last European race
to be conygryteglfio Chliisfifillitl'v d are
. " theiiism 3%
f. .
u
" . nce of
s (.
, a, the;
co
, shoul ,2 still » '
been ~ en
'a d“ "gla’ii‘ll‘fiiirfi‘ig the" acidic Ages. The
Russian journals are not much read in this
inter inbveltiés'they'would be much aston-
flnd recorded in the columns of the Russian
pres today.~ Since the time of. Dmdalus
flying men. have been objects of, suspicion,
and washould' certainly advise aeronauts to
hesitate before making an ascent in Russia. '
Not many years ago, a Russian nobleman
mm 9 Wm went and bad the misfortune
to 56515 darn" “midis“ in, f the. Baltic prov-
inces, where not even a picture‘ of a balloon
had: penetrate]. There was, of course, the
chance of his being mistaken for a messenger
. of the gods and honored in consequence. but
the peasants who inhabited thedi‘strict a here
he alighted were apparently victims of peas
simian and concludedhe was the devil do-
scended from the sky to persecute them.
They did not stay to wonder what the evil
one was doing so far” away from his usual
. habitat, which is supposed tube remote from
the clouds; but in a state of mixed theologic' _
and scientific ignorance the panic stricken '
mob tore the aerona'ut to pieces. If a similar
descent could have been made into Yorkshire
400 years ago the aeronaut might have met
with a similar fate or have been regarded as
a _messenger announcing the divine wrath
and the final dissolution of all things—a panic
to which the English people has been‘ pecu-
liarly liable. This superstitious terror about
balloons, however, is an amiable weakness
when compared 'with some others. It was
only a. week or two ago that the Russian
newspapers related how a peasant had, with
the approval of his neighbors, murdered his
aged auntbocauso he believed her to be
witch—Nottingham Express. . . ,, -
' A Dutch Dairy.
A young farmer came down and invited
me and my fronw to go and see the butter
and cheese making at his farm. =Wo did so,
finding the house to be of the usual type. The
dike surrounding the premises stank most
frightfully, and its filth was in extreme con-
trast to the neatnem and cleanlinem of the
house, outbuildings and utensils of the farm.
We duly saw the round cheeses molded and
made and the butter pressed, and then entered
the cow byres, which at this time of the year
were empty, the cattle being in the fields.
They occupied one side of the square house
and had no ceiling, the whole of the space
above the height of the walls and under. the
great pyramidal reof being empty and open,
, only the living rooms being coiled off from it.
The byres were beautifully clean and bright
with paint and varnish, colored oil cloths be-
ing laid all along where the stems of the
cows would overhang, and the stalls deeply
floored with loose sea shells. Rings in over-
head beams marked the places where the
cows’ tails were tied up at milking time out
of the way. The farmer pointed with pride
to several swallows’ nests under the low
beams, and underneath each nest was placed
a flat shell to prevent the droppings of the
birds soiling the floor below. In the garden
we saw rabbits in a dovecot perched on the
top of a tall pole, and doves inrabbit hatches
close to the ground, and some beautiful phea-
sants, and then we took a closer, photograph
of the stork’s nest. The old bird was very
suspicious of our camera and made her young
ones lie close in the nest.——Blackwood’s Mag-
azine.
A Plea for Athletic Sports.
Grandfather sits in his easy chair and hears
John ask his mother to go and play ball.
“Why don’t you make that boy work at
home?” says grandfather. “He’ll surely grow
up a weak and sickly young man. When I
was a boy I chopped so many cords of wood
in a week and mowed away so much hay in a
day. and I never knew what it was to have a
sick day in my life.” At the age of 20 John
is a vigorous, muscular, well formed, well
developed young man with a biceps of which
he is proud and a complexion browned and
tanned by the sun, the very embodiment of
health and activity. And he didn’t chop
wood or mow away hay. He tossed the ball,
swung the bat, and played tennis until every
muscle was trained in harmony, and he be-
came a physical reality of which his parents
were proud.
There isn’t the wood now for John to chop
and the bay for John to care for as there was Y
in grandfather’s day, and the natural desire
for exercise that lies dormant in every boy’s
breast sends him to the nearest place to grati-
fy his Wishes. It isn’t John alone, either, for
John’s sister has discovered that plenty of
outdoor air and exercise banishes those dis-
agreeable headaches and creates an appetite :
for solid and substantial food that bonbons ‘
and caramels came well nigh supplanting.—
Cleveland Leader.
How Death \Vas Buried.
The Polish poet, Henryk Sieukiewicz, is
making a tour in. the Tetra mountains, where
he is collecting a store of legends, poems and
proverbs from the Galician peasantry. Their
stories about death are curiously original.
Here is one of the most interesting of them:
Once upon a time a farmer went from the
Tatra towards Nowytarg, carrying with him
his ex and his bore. He had not gone far
before an old woman joined him and began
to chatter.
that she was no other than Death, who, in
the legends of Polish Galicia, is always femi-
nine ("a Smieyc). He was naturally anxious
to get rid of such a dangerous fellow traveler
as soon as possible. So he borel’ a hole in the ~
ground- and said: “Look in here!” Death
looked in the hole. but could see nothing.
“You must creep into it,” said the peasant.
Death went in lieadforemost. The peasant
took advantage of the situation and hastened
to fill up the hole. S0 Death was buried, and
he went on his way rejoicing. Nobody died
in ‘that whole district for many long years. ' ‘
At last Death’s gravedigger became so ill and
feeble with age that he longed to get out of
the World he could no longer enjoy. 80 he
went to Death’s grave, restored the old
woman to liberty and she gently put an end
to his pains—Pall Mall Gazette.
, _ Stamps Ho Didn’t name.
He was a stamp fiend, young and preco-
cious. The plain American stamp .had no
interest for him. ' He was making a collec-
tion of foreign ones, and so when they sent
him down to the postofilce for a package he
did not pay much attention, but brought it
home and handed it over, and skipped out to
play tag. Next day they showed him a new
sister who had arrived. He looked at her
with some curiosity.
_ “Say, where did she came from?”
“Oh, from heaven.”
“From heaven! I know; that was the
package I brought from the postoflice yester-
day, and I never knowed anything about it.”
OlYu.” .
“Goll 1 why didn’t you save me the
stamped-58m Francisco Chronicle.
The farmer quickly recognized g
J
W, _. ...._..m._,,.,-.,
, J \\“"' film‘s
. .0
$9,»! szl/
u' a nonhuman: a hour
the result is a co
thro‘ the 170.13 .or not.
ions. We are constan
lllsiou- whether “coming
. fire a full of. collis-
tly colliding with some-
or something. . f it in t with our
neig bore-flue with some dread diseases that
“knocks us on th track":and perhaps dis-
. ables u'for;lifc. v omen l incomei
the, brunt of more col on: an
have to bear
afflictions than mankind. In all cases of
nervousness, own sensations, ten-
derness. medical _ sick headache , con-
gestion. amino on. or ulceration and all
female 1 . "_-and “weaknesses,"
Dr. Pierco’s' _' to Prescription comes to
the rescue of women as no other medicine
goe‘s. It is the 0:ng medicine for women. :3]:
y tugging-nu a mlvo-mran
. from t e manufacturers. that it will give:
satisfaction in every case, or money paid for
it will be refunded. See guarantee on bottle-
wrapper.
Copyright. 1888, by Wom's Dis. Man. Ass’it. '
humanism-lists
regulate and cleanse the liver. stomach and
bowels. They are grimly vo bio and per-
fectly liar-mica no a . Sold by
druggists. 25 cents a vial.
THIS IS THE RIGHT EYE
NOT THE LEFT. ' - ' . .
simm - '
EV! BIIAI .
ls neverlen but al-
ways just right. You
will never be left if
on smoke the right
1,: e, 'Wlllch is
e IEPEII I" 10c-
'sverywhere.
Trademark;
s. s. 5“sz a; 00..
SALE !
Dongle Wagons,
‘ Single Wagons,
Road Carts,
Horse Carts,
Factory, Boston.
CoaL
Wood,
Grain.
Flour,
Hay,
i Straw
——A.1.\T:D-+
Building «Material,
. Etc. Etc.
RH
South Norwalk.
For sale at a. Sacrifice.
l "i'E’l‘dROOM Cfi'i'7"AGE,
3 within. five minutes walk of the
bridge, with never failing well of
excellent water, and a cistern
holding three hundred hogs-
lieads, for laundry purposes
all modern improvements
conveniences, 0130.. Cost
.owner $8,000, and
will be sold for
$5,000 with only
$1,500 down.
to satiSfac-
tory party.
1m33 Enquire at GAZETTE Orrics.
PORTRAITS
——lN—— .
01L. PASTEL or. cmwor
Elegant work, at lowest Prices, by
E. T. WHITNEY,
armor] of Norwaik‘. Leave orders at Art De-
gartmenl of BOSTON STORE, 2d Floor. Nor-
walk, Conn. _ 36
large Office Room in Rent.
N Gazmn Building. second floor fron t
I formerly editorial rooms of the Gszn'r'rii:
” ‘ Enquire of ,
. : - CHASOOLMSTEAD.Norwalk.
Bf .
‘vVill be sold'if iii-plied for soon, "
Norwalk Chronicler