Burlington Hawk Eye

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Publication name: Burlington Hawk Eye

Location: Burlington, Iowa

Pages available: 552,390

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View sample pages : Burlington Hawk Eye, February 23, 1890

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Burlington Hawk Eye (Newspaper) - February 23, 1890, Burlington, Iowa PART ONE-1 THE BURLINGTON HAWK-EYE Established: June, 18*9.]BURLINGTON, IOWA, SUNDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY lb90.~EIGHT HAGES. [Prick 15 Cents per Wbx*. THE LADY OF TO-DAY. — IM .I ■ I IE—    J WHAT IT BAIS TO BET FASfflOM IE-QUHEBITS. Time Was Whea to Look Pretty Was 111 That Was Necessary, hut In This Tear of Grace 1890 a Good Deal Wore Has to Be Done. fOoprrigbt, MO.] O BE a fashionable young woman in the year of > grace one thousand eight hundred and ninety is a complex and intricate thing. Time was when to look pretty was about all that was expected of a maiden just emerging from her teens,' but that alone in New York society today is not sufficient. The “four hundred*’ have an inexorable if unwritten code that the young belle must be thoroughly cognizant of before she is eligible to the hall mark of fashionable guarantee. The tyrant of her world really penetrates her bedroom and presides over her toilet, directing Hie process from the moment she opens her dewy eyes beneath the lace trimmed canopies of her brass or satinwood bedstead until she leaves the chamber, rosy from the perfumed bath, glowing after the vigorous massage and radiant in the freshest of morning robes. And from then until the hour, any time after midnight, that she sinks again into slumber to dream of her triumphs, there has stood at her elbow a little monitor more potent than conscience itself, which has ceaselessly pointed out the way in which she must walk. Fashion is sensible just now in agreat many things, so sensible, indeed, that one almost forgives her the great many other things in which she is a foolish and unreasonable arbiter. For instance, it. is the fashion at present to be neat, wholly and exquisitely neat, with a neatness that begins at the Blan and extends to the Last accessory of the costume. No frayed hems, no boots destitute of buttons, no torn gloves, no ragged edges, no mussy furbelows are permitted. The dress must display the care of a maid, even if that useful personage does not exist in the home establishment. In all this neatness, however, the line of de-rnarkation from primness is exact and well defined. Hair that is frequently washed and carefully brushed may be loosely put up with Channing grace, while no amount of plaiting and pinning back will give a tidy appearance to the locks that are grimy with dust or dull from lack of brisk brushing. In her care of Iierself personally the modem belle can give many points to her predecessor of fifty years *go. It is also quite a la modff&tTlhe present time to be healthy. The pale, delicate creatures who were supposed to be ultra relined and extremely elegant three or four decades ago would find themselves met with an exasperating pity or a half concealed contempt should they parade their fragile selves along the fashionable line today. Bright eyes, a fresh complexion and cheeks that have the hue of health, whether it be a ruddy tinge or a clear pallor, are good form for this age, however little they may have been admired by Sir Charles Grandrion or affected by Lady Pamela. But the girl of fashion must be more than neat and healthy. There is a stylish way or the reverse for lier to accomplish every movement, however simple. The way she sits or stands, how she walks, enters and leaves a carriage, carries a parasol or muff, gathers a wrap about the shoulders, adjusts the lorgnette or opera glass—all these require to be done fashionably, which it must be confessed is not always properly. Every-Ixxiy can recall, if he must, the atrocities of the “Grecian bend,” and New Yorkers saw enough to be disgusted with the “Alexandra limp,” the stylish walk of a much more recent date. Today the swell girls are treading upper Fifth avenue “as far as the flagging goes*’ with an erect, supple carriage and springing gait that betokens a knowledge of and practice in pedestrian exercise, for all of which we have the athletic fad to be grateful to. Accent and intonation are two prominent factors in the curriculum of ti* Four Hundred. There are really two voices in use in fashionable society today, either of which is considered quite proper. One swell girl speaks rapidly and without much inflection, and while her voice is not loud, there is a penetrating timbre to it which makes it very distinct and easily heard. It is a pleasant voice when it is not too manifestly an artificial one. Some girls overdo the matter and acquire a nasal tone that is objectionable. The other equally swell girl has. or thinks she has, the English drawl. She pitches her tones an a con-*    *    r. • siderably lower key than her fashionable lister, and it wcvild seem that in crossing the water this production imbibed the wave motion of the sea. for it undulates gently but regularly as its Anglo-American possessor lets it glide sinuously from her pretty Iijvs. It ie a detestable affectation unworthy an American girl. Let him admire it who will. But having the pose, the gait and the voice of Murray Hill, the art of acquisition must still bo carried on. American girls have lovely hands, small, soft and beautifully shaped; but Ste fashionable girl takes great care not,to care too well for hers. “It is vulgar,” she says, “to have them too much manicured. Care for your nails, punctiliously, of course, but avoid.’* she continues oracularly, “the dazzling polish and brilliant pink of the manicure's assistant.” And then we know it must be avoided. The aim of the really fashionable New York belle is to keep free from the “madding crowd.* “Oh we don’t do that, it's so com mon,” she says, and she no longer counts her bali bouquets by the dozen, because It savors too much of stage trophies, anc she takes out, with something of a sigh, her little bunch of flowers from hear street costume, because everybody wanted to wear it, ana because straightway it got beyond her refined and dainty class, it became a huge corsage that could be seen a block away. A great many fashions are put down as practiced by the metropolitan daughter of the Four Hundred which she would almost faint with horror to be accused of. Her fad, particularly on the street, is simplicity. She . has nm the gamut of display and ostentation. She has found too, that the effect if not the substance of these can be imitated, and she takes refuge in the other extreme. white veil with black dots just over .Her pretty nose, and, hugging a tightly strapped silk umbrella with an aggressive handle to her breast, starts out to shop. The really swell girl, by the way, does not “shop.” She drives out with mammi to order things—always before 2 o’clock. In her speech the fashionable young lady has her vocabulary as she has her code. Latterly she has permitted herself the use of a good many English expressions. She says “fancy” always for “suppose,” and she never says “guess;” she says “chemist” for “druggist,” “atop attome” for “stay at home,” *n<i she “tubs” oftener than she “takes a morning bath.” “Function” with her means any sort of social gathering, and a very gay ball becomes a “rout.” “Smart” expresses a considerable degree of excellence which she applies equally to a wedding or a bonnet; “an awfully fetching frock or gown” is very English for an especially pretty dress. She likes the word “clever,” too; when she sees a fine painting she says, “That’s a clever bit of canvas.” She thinks Marshall Wilder is an “awfully clever fellow,” and if you ask her does she bowl she replies modestly, “Yes, but I’m not at all clever with the balls.” Some phrases she leans rather heavily upon, notably “such a blow” when a rain postpones a visit or a friend dies, and “such a pleasure” alike to hear Patti and spend a tiresome evening at the house of some acquaintance. She has, too, an index expurgators which she is very careful to respect. There are no more “stores” for her, they have become “shops;” “servants” also have ceased to exist as such, they are “men servants ’ and “maids,” although she permits herself to designate as laundress, housemaid or butler; “gentleman” she avoids; “a man I know,” she says, referring to a male acquaintance; or, “there were lots of delightful men out Last night,” she confides to some sister belle who missed the opera; “all right” she never says, making “very well” do much better service, nor does she add “party* to dinner, speaking of such an entertainment; her Iiome ho longer has a “parlor,” pure and simple, but a “blue room,” a “red room,” a “Japanese room,” or possibly an “east parlor.” Getting beyond the manner to the matter of the fashionable girl’s discourse one finds it has practically no limitations— on the surface; at least so said one of them not long ago to the writer. “Why,” remarked this young woman, “we have to know everything, only we don't have to know it all at once nor for very long at a time. If we did we oould not stand up under the accumulation. We take our knowledge in periods. For instance, I have been out four years and during that time I have learned to play the banjo, mandolin and zither, as every one of these accomplishments had its brief nm, all in addition to what I knew of harp, guitar and piano at my debut. To the French and Italian with masters before I finished, I have acquired a smattering of German, Volapuk and Russian successively; I bowl, ride and fence equally poorly, but I do every one a little—I had to, you know. What I do well is to swim and play tennis. One season I belonged to a Shakespeare class, the next I had mornings with Shelley, and for two Lents I was a member of a Browning club. This winter we are con templating Ibsen, and some of us have to stand on tip toe to do it. “One has to know music, too, from ‘Die Walkure’ to ‘Pinafore,’ and to discuss art with the confidence of tile Quarrier Latin. I have been through several art sieges, the Morgan and Stewart collections, the Verestchagin display, and the Barye exhibit is just over, and for every one I have faithfully crammed. Ceramics, tapestries, heraldry—these are merely a hint of the subjects one may be called upon at any moment to discuss intelligently, and I really will not go to a flower show now, for orchids are sealed book to me. The different imported entertainments are another tax upon one's knowledge. Just when you know a kirmess from a May dance you are asked to participate in a Venetian Fashing, and when you have read up to go to see a Greek play somebody lectures on Bud ihist ceremonials for a fashiona hie charity, and you have to show there, t is really very fatiguing sometimes to ceep up with the procession.” All of which confirms the original imposition that to lie a fashionable young woman in the year of grace eighteen hundred and ninety is a complex and intricate thing. Mrs. Philip H. Welch. AEE * An Invitation to Praia*. gnu m cxLvn. w. 18-80. Jerusalem, thy Saviour sin*. Yea, to thy God, O Zion, brin* Thy glad rejoicing lays! For he has made thy bulwarks strong. And blessed thy children's happy throng Within thy gates of praise. 'Tis he that makes thy border* peace, Arui gives thee from thy fields' increase The finest of the wheat.    \ To do his will, his word he sends. That swiftly runs to earth's far ends, Its service to complete. He gives like wool the fleecy snow; The frost, like ashes, to and fro He scatters o'er the land; like crumbs he casts abroad his hail. And who, when roars the wintry gale. Before his cold can stand? But soon he sends his word of To melt the bonds of winter's nig' And wake the joyful spring. He bids the vernal breezes blow, The ice dissolves, the waters flow. And birds begin to sing. But oh. the richer gifts of grace, Bestowed upon his chosen race, To whom he gave his word! He thus hath dealt with them alone, No others have his statutes known; O Israel, praise the Lord! —E. A. C. In Christian Intelligencer. IS ANYBODY HAPPY? ■ARRIES PERSONS RUBLE RAMER THAI Man Never Is, but Always ti Be Blessed I”-The Happiness of Too th Is the Scon of Maturity—“The Wise Xas^s” Happiness. The Christian Motlier. The Christian mother with the Bible in her hand ought not to shrink from the duties involved in the government of a family. If she carefully instills into th** minds and hearts of her children the commands and precepts of the Scriptures with regard to obedience to parents, and is careful that all her commands shall be in harmony with right and truth, she will have amal I trouble in securing prompt and cheerful obedience. The fear of the Lord will constrain them, and most wholesomely, to conform themselves to parental authority.—New York Christian Advocate. Geography. Teacher (to dull boy of the class)— Which New England state has two capitals? Boy—New Hampshire. Teacher—Indeed! Name them. Boy—Capital N and capital H.—Harpers Bazar. Ha Fvsfbnod to Fay. day a boy got a sum to do. His was very strict, and would not peas anything unless it was perfect. When done with the Bom ti* boy took it cot to his master, and found it to be Bid. wrong. “Go beck to your seat and It is the girl who thinks she do it correctly,” cried the enraged mas- “Please, sir,” said ti* boy, handing [Copyright, UBA] A little while ago I was asked to write brief paper answering the question, What was the happiest moment of your life? I replied to that, and truly, the happiest moment of my own life was the one in which I could lay before those whom they concerned the proofs that I had fulfilled the great task of my life, had paid the last penny Of Frank Leslie's indebtedness, aud cleared the memory of that noble man from the stigma of debt which clouded his last moments. But, after ail, was that a moment of lappiness? A moment of satisfaction, a moment of triumph, a moment of honorable pride—yes, it was all of this: but tile bitterness of the strife through which that peace was conquered, the lonely weariness of labors beyond my strength, the yearning for the word of oving thanks I could never hear—all these came in, and so embittered the sweetness of that thought, so dimmed the glory of that sunshine, that after all I cannot call it a moment of happiness. But if it was not, I do not know that I ever f<dt happiness, and in looking around among my friends and acquaintances I am inclined to wonder if anybody really is or can be truly happy. I do not mean just amused or free from care; children are that, but I do not call them happy, for they cannot know how fortunate they are, and happiness must involve a mental contrast with some other condition in which we might liave been involved; my happiness in saying those debts was the outcome of the misery of not being able to pay them; the happiness of the traveler’s return home is the contrast with the separation and homelessness of his travels. We have all heard of the Indian whom the missionary found pounding his own finger with a brick. Tile good man thought it was a penance and was applauding the piety of his neophyte, who, however, interrupted him to explain, with asolemngrin, that “Much poundee, much achee; feel muchee good when leave off.”    ^ Perhaps, then, happiness for us who know our world Is only tile absence of pain or trouble, and as the child does not know about pain and trouble, it cannot really know happiness. But older children, babes between 15 and 25, what of them? Girls do not know much of the sorrow or care of existence if they have a father to provide the means of life, and a mother to ward off worries and responsibilities, and young men with somebody to make a place for them iii the world, and to bolster them up in it, have as little real knowledge of the rough side of life as they have of rheumatism. But are these girls and boys truly happy? No,Tor they are, both consciously and unconsciously, in a transition and therefore in an unsatisfied condition; the girl is looking forward more or less frankly to tho day when some Mr. Right shall come along and invite her to become tho queen consort of a little king-*dom of their own, shall introduce her into some ideal condition of life w herein she shall find happiness; and however fortunate her girlhood she seldom looks upon it as more than a vestibule and waiting room through which one passes to life. As for the young man, he does not know or care anything about happiness. If you spoke tp him of the subject, he would probably reply that he didn't “go in for sentiment,” that he supposed be did as well as other fellows, or that there wasn’t much the matter with the world so far as he was concerned. Or, if he is the blast and cynical style of young man, he will reply with some Byron-and-water speech about the world being a beastly hole, in which happiness is only possible to fools and puppies, causing one to close one’s lips very firmly lest they should unclose in an obvious and unseemly retort. A little later on, there is a condition which I suppose comes as near true happiness as anything this world affords; it is the early married life of two persons really in love, and really adapted by age, education, tastes and' temper for companionship with each other. To such a couple, with money enough between them to free them from the sordid cares and anxieties of life, there may come a few weeks—nay, let ns be liberal and say a few months—of almost perfect happi ness; but oh. my heart! how sure it is to change as time goes on! The honeymoon itself wanes steadily from the hour of its perfection, and though other moons may come, and be very bright and very beautiful, that especial moon comes no more. And, in later life, how few people, if you ask them what has been the happiest hour of their existence, would place it in the present epoch of life. As a rule they go back to childhood's ignorant careless ness, or to youth's calcium lighted and impossible dreams of a future that never came. One man of my acquaintance, when asked the above question, replied: “The happiest moments of my existence are when, after a really good dinner with good wines.1 seat myself in my study chair, my slippered feet upon a rest, a capital cigar between my teeth, a steady light falling over my left shoulder, and an interesting magaxineor book in my hands. Then, if nobody disturbs me. I experience for two or three hours the fullest sense of happiness of which my human nature is capable.’* “And you do not include    com panionship in your recipe?” No. my dear madame. ‘ All through the day I have agreat deal more hnman companionship than I want, and if I feel the desire for it in the evening I bad rather come to see yon than to have anybody in the world come to see me.” “A very pretty compliment, but a very selfish idea of happiness.” responded I; and he* “Let as talk of tile phoenix, or of the island of Atlantis, or of the man in the moon; any one of them is more tangible titan this myth which you call happiness.” I asked a good man—or ax any rate he was a clergyman, and so I suppose a good man—what happiness means and where it is to be found, and he picked up a Bible off his table and read aloud: “ ‘And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them, I withheld not my heart from any joy; * * * and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the Wherefore I praised the mote than petter is ne tnan Doth racy which hath not yet been, who hath not seen the evil work that is done under the sun.’ “That is the verdict of Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived.” said. my friend the parson as he laid down the book, “and he seems to think that happiness is an unattainable condition.” And so the man of the world and tile man of God come to the same conclusion by different paths and without a thought in common. Then I asked a bright and most charming woman, one no longer young but by no means old, one who has “Jam in the lilies and fed cm the roses of j life,” and yet has known enough of the ; other ride to give her an “all round” ex- I perience and sympathy.,    -j “Is there such a thing as happiness in the world?” asked I, and she, with a steady look out of her lovely eyes, replied: “For you and me, no. We have the bad habit of thinking, and thought is fatal to what you call happiness. The only happy people are they who do not know that they are happy, and do not know what happiness means.” “Isn't that rather a bull?” Yes, my dear, and life is a bn1!” A little disheartened in my quest, I next applied to a person neither cynical, nor pious, nor bright—a dear, pretty I little butterfly who has danced and Hut- . tered over the parterres of fashion for more years than we talk about. “Happiness!'’ chirruped she in reply to my stereotyped inquiry,“why, of course, | there’s any amount of happiness going, \ and I’m sure nobody gets a bigger share of it than you,” etc., etc. ‘Yes, but youinterrupted I, “tell me. now, what is your chief form of happiness since you have so much?” “Well, let me see. It's when I have a really good box at the Academy on a first night, and can see that there isn’t a better dressed woman in the balcony, and have a lot of nice men crowding to get a word with me; that's happiness of one sort. Then, when I receive and have secured some lion that hasn’t roared in anybody else's rooms, and that everybody is dying to see, and oh! to have people besiege you for invitations, and to appear at a garden party or somewhere where there's lots of room in a gown just that minute imported and see all the other women looking you over. Why, I there’s no end of happiness to be got out of life if you only have simple and easily contented tastes like mine.” “I see,” replied I thoughtfully. “But I’ve done all that, and still I am not happy.”    | One day a dear old lady, a friend of my * mother's, sent for me to pay her a little visit, and as I looked at her placid face and peaceful eyes I said to myself; “There is such a thing as happiness, and she has found it,” and I asked her if my surmise was not correct. She thought ‘ it over for a moment, and then with her own smile said;    j “I am afraid I never really found it, my dear, although I often thought I had, but I believe fully that there is such a thing and I am going to find it soon. It lies the other side of the river, however, so I cannot describe it to you.” “And is there no happiness this ride of the river?” asked I wistfully. “The happiness of this world is hope. ‘Man never is, but a1 ways to be, blessed,’ ” SWE VEIT GHOUL MTB GI HEAT IEI HE HU SHAVED. THE T Willie* Ny© Receives tile Bash-On Alienees—Cc* rn*odor© Van derbilt as a Shave©—Also Lawrence Barrett and Others. a vt*#! made over AK Iv replied my friend, and as I pursued my lonely drive I thought over that last ‘ to*erne to his room, and word, and found it a true one. Every-. body who is in possession of some degree , of happiness is looking forward to a higher degree. The money maker only | values the profits of today because they are [Copyright by Edgar lf. Nj*.] It was in Chicago, the booming city ! aking whose busy streets I had so often wandered and on the banks of whose • brawling river I had so oft been | “bridged" that I met a barber who made a specialty of shaving eminent men. I noticed that my presence did not seem to unnerve him as I had supposed it would, and that he livid my nose a good deal higher while shaving my upper lip than I I had ever held it, even in the bright and ■ hah yon days when, as a little boy. I wore from other garments father's handed down from the dim and musty past. He w as a middle aged man with a deep, red eye, shaded by a clustering mass of eyebrow through which the j lake breezes were wont to sough. Tile other eye was in the same condition. I His hair had formerly been a bright j red. Some was flowing and some had fled, j I thought of this sentiment whilst he was shaving me, and when he had finished I wrote it in his album for him. He had an air of neglige and easy naivette and bon homme and carte blanche, and wore linen cuffs with edgings of iron gray. Ilia collar also had gray whiskers on it, and the mane around the buttons of his trousers needed roaching. He was a man of fine mold, and while he strained me to his breast as he shaved under my chin I discovered that he carried a little asafoetida in his left hand vest pocket to keep off contagious diseases, and also that he hail a very loud ticking watch of the American type, with a revolutionary movement. At times he spoke almost sadly of the past and of those he had shaved, who were now in a land where full beards are worn almost exclusively. Once, as he spoke of a statesman who had passed on and left us, he asked me to excuse him as he wiped a large hot tear from the top of my head. I said, “Never mind; weep on, thou sad hearted man. Relieve thine oercharged orbs. It will do thee good. I have wept in 9 barber shop many a time myself. It does me good to see thee do so now.” When he had recovered himself a little, he wiped his eyes somewhat on a towel, and, going into the clothes press for a few moments, where I heard him measuring out some congii medicine, he soon returned, brightened up a great deal, he and his breath both having gained a great deal of strength, it seemed to me. He said that he used to shave Commodore Vanderbilt. I asked him howT the commodore was to shave. He said that he always got shaved at home. ‘‘I used to go up every morning and shave him at his home. He left orders that I was there I would always find him in nis shirt sleeves. He rarely swore at me, fearing that I might accidentally cut his cheek. He frequently had soft Ixiiled egg on the end of his nose, but I never laid up anything agin “Nextr into the ear of Laur-r-r-ence Barr-r-r-r-rette Y “I would then ejaculate ‘Rats!' and he woald take a seat in the chair like a king that is getting $4 a week to reign through one act and then take tickets at the door the rest of the time. I offered him once a strop to hold in his hand to reign with, bat he would not have it." “Is he hard to shave T “No, he is quiet in the chair, and winks perfectly natural. He is a real good fellow, I think, if he would only try to forget that he is sitting for a lithograph. "When he gets his head out of the iron head rest and is not having his photograph taken he is first rate.” “Who else did you ever shave?” “I have shaved Chauncey M. Depew once, but he did not know about it, or at least I did not tell him who I was, and so perliaps he would not remember me now. He was very nice aud quiet, and didn't make me any trouble. He kept looking at the clock while he was being shaved, and said something over softly to himself. I judged he was going out to dine somewhere. I asked him if he wasn't Mr. Depew, and he said he was. Then I asked him if he ever beard about the tramp that callet! at a farm house on Fifth avenue to get something to eat. He said no. he had not. Well, there was nothing to it only it seems that once a poor tramp, with clam shells in his rich Rembrandt beard and chicken feathers in his nut brown hair, called at a quiet farm I louse on upper Fifth avenue and asked for food. ‘Odds Uxiksns,’ ex-claimed the farmer's wife, as he came to the door, ‘you are indeed in a sorry plight. And how long since you tasted foot!?’ “ 'Four days.’said the tramp, catching madly at the waist band of his trousers just in time, for he had no suspenders, ‘four days I have been without food, and four nights I have slept in a railroad culvert with nothing over me but a first and second mortgage and a right of way. I have a college education and an angel mother. Give me a crust, lady. or a little plum duff, lady, and God will:reward you. For three days I wandered aim-1, .-sly around on the site for the World’s fair trying to find my way to the settlements. On the fourth day I came upon a habitation and tried to get a bite. There was only one bite at this houee, and a large mauve colored bull dog got BYM OF WORKERS A MISSIONARY LADY HIVES INTERESTS TESTIMONY. Cen version fro* Buddhism to Christianity - Dr. Talmage Bears Mild Testimony In Favor of New York Cl. yN Morality. i .    --- the basis of larger ones to-morrow; j ^or tiiat. \ou never can tell where the girl enjoys to-night’s dance because s°ft    eSS    wil1    ljgbt-    1    evcn    found it is the herald of a call, of a drive, of a that. Lady, will you give me of your bounty, or must I ask you to look the other way while I pass out at the gate and go away?’ “The good woman could not resist this appeal, aud so she got some crullers and cold cabbage with vinegar onto it. Also a glass of milk and a cold sausage. The poor tramp took it and was about to conceal the whole thing in his whiskers, when the good lady said, ‘You ought at least to ask grace and give thanks before you eat your food. Let me beg of you to ask a blessing before you eat.’ ‘That is all right in theory, lady,’ exclaimed the tramp as he absorbed the sausage and drained his glass, ‘but it does not work well in practice. Me and Chauncey Depew always talks better after we’ve et.’” “Who else have you shawed?” “Well. I've shaved 3Tr. Evarts. He is a kind hearted old gentleman, with a skin that hangs around his throat like the seat of an elephant's trousers around a baby elephant. Ile is a gentleman. every Inch of him. He does not talk much with barbers, though. He is a thoughtful man, but doe* not dress well. One day he wanted me to brush his hat. I brushed if the wrong way for him. He “Is this constant preaching of any user" sadly questioned a missionary, who] for long years had earnestly proclaimed the Gospel message in a crowded Chi-1 nose city. Not indeed without effect. Since the beginning of his ministry, some hundreds had been gathered in: but hundreds of thousands around him still lived in heathenism* and even among those who heard Ids preaching, for a long time few had shown more than passing interest in Christian truth. And now the luau* of tho daily afternoon service at our mission church had come; but the rain was pouring, leaving little hope of any congregation that day. And in fact, no one in the thronged thoroughfare fronting the church, where he usually sought, by first speaking on the steps outside, to collect the passersby, and then inviting them in, seemed inclined to stop. Within the building he found a middle aged Chinamen who evidently wished for some conversation with him, and, encouraged by his kindness, told him the following story: “For seventeen years I have been a devoted Buddhist and have gone from house to house retreating prayers in honor of the idols. I knew I was a sinful man, and most earnestly I sought in this way to make atonement for tin* past. and acquire sufficient merit to attain te Nirvana, escaping the condition of rebirth. Some time ago I came into this chapel, and though at first I received no clear idea of the doctrine you were teaching, I wife struck with the mode ct worship; especially the offering of prayer to an unseen God attracted me. I came many times, and, listening to your preaching, gradually saw tho utter van ity of my own religious views and life, and the blessedness of the way of salvation in Christ. Many arguments have been used to bring me back to Buddhism, blit I ara fully determined to enter the Christian church, and now- I ask you tc receive me." After further conversations and prayer with him and careful inquiry concerning him, consent was gladly given, and the following Sunday, at the converts’ service, in the presence of some sixty brethren and sisters, the ex-Buddhist stood up and made clear confession of faitli in Christ, and then. kneeling and baring the strangely shaven head, was baptized iii the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. And so was answered the preacher’s sorrowful question, “Is it worth while?” Day by day, all unknown to that faithful but often disheartened servant of Christ, one weary heart was listening and learning.—Alice Jane Muirhead, Shanghai. Dystanders for saving the life of a Jew were the only salutations that greeted tile brave and noble deed; but these suddenly ceased when the scene was reversed and they learned that the drowning man was a Gentile and his brave rescuer a Jew ! The world s history is hastening to its crisis, and the day mar not be far distant when “the remnant of Jacob shall lie in the midst of many people as a dew from the Ixird, as the showers ujx)u the grass, that tarrieth not for man, nor waiteth for tile sons of men.” Meanwhile let us bo moved with pity for our neglected brother, as we stand ourselves saved upon tile shore and see him heating for life against the stream. Let us hasten to his rescue, saying to each other, “Lot him not sink, for he is a Jew,” of the seed of Abraham and of the kinsmen of our Lord Jesus Christ, who came to seek anil to save “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”—Christian at Work. _ Minnesota Confervae*. Tile thirty-fifth session of the Minnesota conference, held at St. Paul, has just close*I, Bishop Mallalieu presiding. The bishop greatly endeared himself to the brethren of the northwest bv his kind, patient, forbearing and brotherly administration. His address to the class of deacons was just such us one would expect from a man who had no end to serve except to inspire these young men with an exalted ambition to be true and faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. His sermon on “Sabbath” was a model of simplicity, clearness, effectiveness, delivered in power and demonstration of the sj>irit. It was expected that the conference would divide, but after a thorough discussion the motion to divide was lost. The deliverance of the body on the observance of the Sabbath was radical ami emphatic, disapproving of the patronage of Sunday jiajiers and of open gates at camp meeting on Sunday w here trains and steam traits are run; pledging co-operation to the American Sabbath union, and petitioning congress to pass the Sunday rest hill. On temperance the conference pronounced in favor of national and state constitutional prohibition, and refused support to any party favoring license.—New York Christian Advocate. An As© of Charity. Rev. A. J. F. Behrends in the Chris-1 tian Union of Nov. 2s, gives a powerful summary of recent progress towards Christian and national unity, saving, with many other things: “The Roman Catholic savs the Prot- 6omething more in the future. The artist or the author loves his work a little for itself, and a good deal for the fame and the social position and the prestige it will bring to him. The politician says: When I am in congress, or when I am in the White House, I shall reap the reward of all this,” and probably the president and his family in the recesses of their private chambers murmur: “ When we are quietly settled at home again we shall have time for some real happiness.” But it is a well known quibble of the soft boiled egg on Mr. Beecher's chin mice, and he said that it must have been there all through one of his most searching sermons. You never know when you eat a soft boiled egg whether the most of it went inside on the lining of the coats of the stomach or outside on the lining of your overcoat, or in your ear or down the hack of your neck. “One time, however, the commodore swore at me quite a good deal, I remember. I had shaved him a little too close, and so his face bled a little. Of course I had to rub alum on it to stop the bleed- } estant is a hypocrite, who is conscious of did no| know tile difference, but gave me j telling lies all the time, and the Protest-a quarter and went out. Chi** day I tried j ant answers the Roman Catholic by say-to show off to him, and whilst I was , ing, “You are another." That is the way shaving him I spoke of the Uiautiful j we have carried on our long debate. The spring weather and coated'from tile poet: j same tiling is true within all the lines of ‘Oh. what i3 so rare as a day in ] June?’ He said that some-days in March was a good deal rarer, for heVl seen ’em when they was almost raw. He is a wag, Mr. Evarts is. He nan think of more puns than anybody. He is really a wit of tile old school, hut he is hard to shave, and when you get lather up his nose his remarks are almost cruel at times. [    IV    VMCVX*    UUU, * for one of his time of life. He got kind of hot and told me I could go away and cynic that nobody ever et attained to ,    d    made    tbe    0    man    quite    smart to-morrow’s happiness* f( to-morrow attained becomes today. . One thiug, however, 3 \ certain: the simpler the conditions, th 1 laster it is to fulfill them; expect but attle, and you can't be disappointed of agreat deal. Does this apply to persons as well as things and surroundings? Is a single person more likely to be happy than a double one? Are "bachelors trad maids happier than married folk? It is a big question, and perhaps will find as many voices in the negative as in the affirmative, but my individual answer would be, The single person cannot be as unhappy as the double one, and although the bliss of married life such as I at first described is great, so is also the misery of an ill assorted or disastrous marriage. The loneliness of a loving heart is hard to bear, and the longing for protecting and sympathetic companionship is very sorrowful and depressing, but the burden of enforced companionship with a husband who has become an object of aversion and terror ri a great deal harder to bear, and the ^ slavery of dependence upon an unwilling; and grudging master is far more bitter and unendurable. It is, after all, a^ood deal like gambling: yon stake your dollar and you may win five or you may lose all. Probably the wisest plan, certainly the most obvious advice, is: Don't put up vour dollar! * Mss. Frank Tjeklik. Protestant Christendom. “Well I can remember (I am notan old man yet. not 50 years old) the time when a Calvinist could not say a good word about an Armenian, and an Armenian had not a good word to say about a Calvinist. That time is, happily, past, but there are people of that spirit left yet. They have not a good word to say about anybody who differs with them; they “One day I was shaving a foreign noble- i are unreasonable; and he who does not Lady with the Musical Daughter. Book Agent — Here is that book, ma’am, “How to Play the Piano.” Lady of the House—What book? I didn’t order any book. “No'm. but the neighbors did, and thev told me to bring it to yea.”—Time. A Bore Rebuked. Mr. Awger (looking over editor’s shoulder as he clips an article from an exchange)—Does that require much intellect? Editor—None whatever; why, I behere even you could do it.—Munsey'b Weekly. He Took Her. He—Miss Wayting, you are a to me. I never know how to take you. She (shyly)—You never tried.—Bur lington Free Press. la the Dark. When I kissed her that night in the tofiW Twas so dark that nothing waa plain; And not being sore bot I'd Why, Twas right I should i There was darkness on everything round na. I was reaching in vain for the door. And while I waa seeking an exit__ It so happened I kissed her some mer* And I wasn't quite sure as I left ber, As to whether she liked it or not; Bot I know that I sighed to be bac*; there The farther away that I go*. And the next time I called it so happened That we stood in that hallway once more. a—! th* gaslight fell over and found us As I quietly mowed to the door. Bother red cheeks so 1 aguishly dimpled. Ami bar even shope so wickedly bright. dead which are already dead never come back any more. I told him [ had a wife and family and I would like very much to stay. ‘No,’ said he, ‘you cannot shave “for a biled owl,” or “for sour apples,” or “the ace of spades,” ’ or some such thing he said, I know. 'But.' said he, *1 do not want to see your family suffer. You have cut my face so often now. you- mullet head, and Bien puckered it up with alum, that my mouth stays open all the time and pretty soon I will have to ]jut a gore into the back of my neck. Go away from. my house and never, never return if you please. As I said, I do not want your family to suffer, and so I will give you a letter to a business man I know down town, who will see that you get a job albis place. Now go away. ’ “He gave me the latter, and I opened it carful so aa not to cut the check, if there was any intu it. But there wasn’t any. It was just a short letter. It said: "Dsak Jobs—This will introduce a barber who has been practicing on me for quite awhile and patiently working hi3 way up to a position where no* I feel like siring him this hearty and earnest letter to you. He has a family dependent on him, and anything you can find for him to do around your justly celebrated slaughter house will be duly appreciated br “Yours truly,    C-    VAXOEttBttr. TP. 8.—Let him try it first on the cattie that are already dead.    CY." “Did you ever shave any other cele-1 brated people beride Vanderbilt and me?” “Yes, I used to shave Mr. Barrett— Lawrence Barrett, the great actor, when he was in a hurry. He entered the shop rather soft and glidy like, as if he was looking for Julius Caesar, with a view to stabbing him at an early date. “I would say, ‘Good morning, Mr. Barrett’ “He would say, ‘Sirrah, I know thee not? He would then fold his arms, and, with growing wonder and delight look in the mirror at the only man for whom he ever showed a genuine respect and esteem which nothing oould shake. Then he would take off his coat and fold his arrau again and throw back his head and try to look like the man who acts as chief train dispatcher for the solar system. “ ‘Larry,’ I would say, ‘come off the perch now. It is your turn, Mr. Brannigan.’ “But he would rock back on his heels and throw out his chest and kind of rim AF hk shoes on the floor like a tumbler that is chalking his feet in the circus, a habit he got when he waa a bareback rider, and then he would inhale and exhale his breath quickly like a gentleman who has blown out the gas and is partially asphyxiated, but which really inAMit passion, so I understand, and then he would say: “ ‘Hah! Swagger not, thou topless varlet, thou unwhelked fly-up-the-creek. Balate me not, thou pan-American Houghton bottle and tallow spatter on the brow rf nature. Avaunt! Shetujff •“Wilt ♦k**‘ forsooth WMT the rihaU* man in New York, and being in a great hurry I rather suddenly lifted his nose, as is usnal when shaving the upper lip, when to my surprise it came </ff and fell in the cuspidor. It was a wax nose, such as is frequently worn by the nobility of some countries where the royal blood contains other ingredients besides royalty, and so I bad to put a junk pomatum nose on him till he could get up to the Eden Musee and have another one made. By my carelessness I learned afterwards that I come mighty nigh breaking npdhe match betwixt him and a real sweet little American girl with good breeding and lots of means but no noble blood. The bk to> seal barber then powdered my high, iii iiectual Adam’s apple and I cam*' awa'. agree just exactly with their form of stating the doctrines of Scripture ria dishonorable and dishonest man. “It is a noticeable fact in our day that the fierce invectives which once wert common against the Roman Catholic communion, even against the Roman Catholic hierarchy, fail to produce any public effect; we leave that sort of thing to the theological cranks who cannot get anything else to do, and who have used up all other materials. Now, why is ills it because we imagine there are no abuses in that communion? Far from it Men have not lost sight of the causer that induced the Reformation in the Sixteenth century, but they have come tc see this: that to say of the entire Roman Catholic religion, or to say of the Roman priesthood and episcopacy, that it is honeycombed with moral insecerity and dishonesty, is simply false. It is not true. The thing that is not true will fall by it* own weight.” The Good Old Test. “By their fruits ye shall know them,” j said the master. “Do men gather grajx-r 1 of thorns or figs of thistles?” And so. when we are told of the “Light of Asia j and of the lofty morality of Confucius, j anti assured that the Bible is only one Coart!ag la tho Sobwrbs. Alfred—Please don't put me off any longer, Katie. Will you marry me? Katie—Alfred, I hardly knowvrhether I love you well enough or not. Besides- Alfred (looking at his watch)—Katie,, the last train to is due in just thiamin- j    ^any    sacred    books, little, if any, I better than some of the others, there is ates. Yes — Katie—Yes, Alfred!—ClricAgD Tribune. In an Unsettled State. Boarding Mistress—How do you like our coffee? Boarder—It reminds me rf aa elegant residence. “How so?”    ,    .    .    . “It has plenty of ground*"—Lowell lion of Europe and America. A Photographer’s Audacity. Clara—Well, aunt, have your photographs come from Mr. Snappeschotte’s? Miss Maydevai (angrily)—Yes. And they went back, too, with a note expressing my opinion of his impudence. Clara-—Gracious! What was it? Miss M.—Why, on the back of every j picture were these words: “The original of this is carefully preserved. Bulletin. a legitimate answer ready. It was put thus bv the late Wendell Phillips, who will certainly not lye suspected of too great reverence for orthodox views: j “The answer to the Shafter is India; the answer to Confucianism is China; the answer to the Koran is Turkey; the answer to the Bible is the Christian civiliza- Christian civilization has defects, and plenty of them; but, such as it is, w ho that knows it would exchange it for any other civilization that exists or has existed? “Either make the tree good and its fruit good, or make the tree corrupt and its fruit corrupt.”—New York Examiner. A Trifle at the Saaaea. Dora—No, Alfred, Pm not sapersti-| tiotzs: but I don't care to sit down with I thirteen at the dinner table. Alfred—Well, I am superstitious; but II wouldn’t mind that. Dora—Mercy! why not? Alfred—Because if I flat down with thirteen at a table there would be four-I teen all told.—Harper's Bazar. A Poultry Show, Anyway. Ambrosia de Vere—I cawnt spectacles. They make me look—aw— demure as an owl. Dawn*t ye knaw, I I thin lr eyeglasses much more becoming to Our Neglected Brother. “Let him sink; he is only a Jew!" was the voice of the careless onlookers at Pittsburg . Cracow six months ago, as they stood on j the banks of the river into which a I young man had fallen, and witnessed ' what seemed to be h A dying struggles to regain the shore. “Let him sink,” they { said; “he is only a Jew!” and the heartless exclamation bas for long centuries been the voice of Christendom over our brother who is “only a Jew;” whilst also j we have often thrust him down into the j deep, and are still, for the most part, I looking callously on as he struggles for • the life above by the strength of his own efforts. From the banks of the Vistula there soon rose a second and . heartier shout. RELIGIOUS GLEANINGS. Von Mnltko says that “beer is a far more dangerous enemy to Germany than all the armies of France.” The Methodist Recorder, speaking to its correspondents, says: “Boil it down, condense, prune away the superfluities, keep to the facts." Archdeacon Jones, of Liverpool, at 98, is thought to be the oldest clergyman in the English church. Ile has been in orders seventy-four years. Calvary church, Brooklyn, Rev. Cornelius L. Twing, rector, by the decision of the courts, receives $10,000 by the will of the late George It. Jacott. As the cold weather approaches it may lie well to remember that of 182churches burned in 1888, ITO owed their destruction to defectives flues, a fait which suggests the value of an ounce of prevention. The Rev. Dr. Herrick Johnson, a distinguished Presbyterian divine, has published special services for ti se at marriages, funerals, visitations of the sick, ordinations, holy communion, etc. It is a straw, but it indicates tho direction of the current. In the twenty-fifth report of the Sheltering V rms of New York, the treasurer states the year's receipts at $16,495.79. In tile quarter of a century of its exist once the institution has had on its register 1,852 children. The permanent fund has reached $104,000. The Cincinnati presbytery, by a vote of yeas 29, nays 13, advised the changing of the standard of doctrine on infant salvation to read thus: “All infants dying in infancy and other elect persons are saved.” A correspondent writes: “The Second Congregational chun Ii of Rockford, Ills., of winch the Rev. Walter M. Barrows Is pastor, has been celebrating the fort ieth anniversary of its organization. Dr. Barrows rather startled his people on this occasion by asking them for $100,000 for a new church building. But the church has voted, without a dementing voice, to carry out the suggestion, Mr. Ralph Emerson pledging $10,000 on the sjiot.” A secular paper says: “When a clergy*-man sits down quietly to listen to another clergyman and hears statements with which he disagrees, the temptation to get up on his feet and stats his own opinions is almost irresistible.” * * * “More than this. the habit of putting forward their own notion* iii weakly installments is apt to make them self opinionated, and breeds a latent controversial spirit * which only lacks opportunity lot development.” Hence much of the debating in religious conventions. At a council of Congregational clergymen lately held at Brook Urn, Tompkins county, N. V*., Mrs. Annri F. Eastman, wife of the Rev. R. K. Eastman, wa* ordained to the ministry and installed a* pastor of the Brockton Congregational church. During the protracted sickness of her husband Mrs. Eastman has officiated in his pulpit with such satisfaction to the congregation that they decided to make her their settled pastor. It is reported from England that aa evangelistic movement of a very unusual character is attracting some attention in London. A society has been formed to seek the conversion of the fashionable people of the West End. The member* or agents of the society are to make personal visits and seek by direct intercourse to interest the jieople in religion. It i* asserted that all the houses in fashionable London, not excluding Marlborough house, the residence of the Prince rf Wales, will be visited in this way. The New York Methodist Book Concern is making preparations to celebrate its centennial, and all the churches of the denomination have been asked to make Dec. 8 “Book Concern day." The of $100,000 lias been set aside from profits of the Concern to be used for the relief rf superannuated preachers. Book Concern gi ves $15,000 yearly to 1 support of denominational interests, in its IOO years of existence it has tribute*! in thri way the round $1,600,000. The Book Concern will ther mark its centennial by rem01 into its new building at I ifth avenue i Twentieth street, which is eighty__ or 120 feet, high, and covers a ptot feet 34 inches on Fifth avenue, aud feet on Twentieth street. The 1 the building, with land, wai 1 $1,000,000. cost Marian Smart—Well, yes. They make ' yuulooklikeagooee.—Jeweler’s Weekly. Lawm Expel* Emar. The oeautiful worship of God father is distinguished by the' that its chief exercise of loverii “It's all up with him,” they now I ^ truSt iri the very peril cried in a tone of triumph; “he is sink-1 ^vfcich, to an unloving mind* ing!” when another young man broke through the crowd, who tried to bold him back, and, plunging into the river, brought the drowning Jew to the shore, unconscious but saved. The jeers rf the duce fear. It is a great act < trust, like a son, God’s er. There can be no < the filial feeling. We to the point. God la our ;