The Worthington advance., 1880-09-16

I resolved that, when was Il I vould
60 to sea, with or without his permis-
sion, which I knew I wouldn't eet T
didn't know what seattle was then. or I
might have given up the idea. Ny
birthday came ut Last, and I went to him
for his consent. He refused it, as /
knew he would do, sternly and harshly.
and commanded me never to mention
such q thing to him again. "And, if
You go in direct defiance of my will, I
tell you, once for all, ," says he, "to stay.
Never come back to me, never. call me
father again, for I will never own YOU As
my son-never, as long as I live.
"Thats exactly what he said, and,
mates and gentlemen. I'll remember
every word OF it to my dying day. He
didn't speak another word to me, except
to order me out of his presence, and I've
never heard his voice. never seen his
face, from that day until this morning.
when he came aboard this ship, for thst
night I slipped from the house that had
sheltered me fourteen years. went down
to the dock, and shipped - cabin-boy
on craft bound to the West Indies.
She sailed that night, and I've never
since then been afloat on the
Mississippi. I've had a rough-and-
tumble time of it since that night.
for sailors life, gentlemen, is a bad
one at best but I've never tried any
other, and reckon I never will. But I
sometimes think, even now. that if nv
fathers refusal had been given in a dif-
ferent way; if he had been more gentle
with me had reasoned with, instead of
reprimanding me SO harshly, would
have stayed with him, and maybe I
would have been some comfort and
pleasure TO him now in his old age. in
stead of being what I am and always
will be. But I s'pose it's no use think
ing and saying what might have been.
If my MOTHER and in uttering that
holy name the deep, cool, careless tones
in which he had spoken all along
changed and became low and soft-al-
most sweet; if my mother, who died
when I was only z, had lived, all would
have been different, for she was gentle
to me and I loved her; but she did not.
might have made better man of nv
self anyhow, if I had tried at the start;
but thought that as there was nobody
in all the world that cared whether I was
good or bad, worthy or unworthy, there
was no use trying. Yes, sir,-to one
of the passengers-'I I know that was
q mistaken idea. But no matter now.
What I am, am, and will be to the last
day Of my life. Whether my father or
myself is most to be blamed I've never
decided-never tried to decide, indeed,
I've never thought, and don't want to.
leave his Judgment and mine to others
and to the great all knowing One against
whom I have sinned so greatly.
And now, mates and gentlemen,
you've heard my yarn, and know what
I dont-whether it was worth hearing
or not. Whatever else may be said Of
it, I say this much, it's true from begin
ming to end
"We thanked Charlie heartily for his
story, and on more than one of us
it made good and lasting impression.
1t certainly did on me, for I had boy
OF my own ut home with whom was
wont to be rather strict-too strict, Twas
sure. when I heard Charles story-and
1 resolved that my treatment of him
should, in the future, be different from
what it had hitherto been. Firm and
resolute, but gentle and kind witha],
would henceforth be with him, lest he
might one day be what the poor fellow
before me was i; and /, his father, be to
blame for it ."-Chicago ledger.
A Curious Clock.
The clock is eighteen feet high, eight
feet wide by five feet deep, and wei Chs
four thousand pounds. The frame.
work is entirely of black walnut. ele-
gantly carved. Above the main body
Of the clock is q marble dome, upon
which Washington sits in his chair Of
state protected by a canopy, which il
surmounted by gilded statue of
Columbia /; on either side of Washing
ton is a col0red servant in livery
guarding the doors which open be.
tween the pillars that support the
canopy on tho four corners Of the
clock are black walnut inches con-
tanning human figures, emblematic of
the march of life the two lower ones
arc supported by flaming torches one
Of them contains the figure of an in.
FAINT, the second the figure of youth.
the third Of . man in middle life the
fourth of an aged graybeard, and yet
another, directly over the center, con.
tains grinning skeleton representing
Father Time.
These figures have bells and hammers
in theirhands At the end ofevery quar-
ter hour the infant in his carved niche
strikes with tiny hammer upon his
bell. At the end Of each half hour
the youth strikes, at the end of the
three quarters, the man, an at the end
of each hour the graybeard. Death
then follows with measured stroke
to toll the hour, and carved Cupids
project from either side, with wings
to indicate that time flies. At the
same time large music box begins to
play, and surprising scene is enacted
upon the platform beneath the cano-
py; Washington slowly rises from the
chair to his feet, extending his right
hand presenting the Declaration of
Independence. The door on the left
is opened by the servant, admitting
all the presidents from Washington's
time, including President Hayes. Each
president Is dressed in the costume of
his time. Passing in file before
Washington, they face and raise their
hands as they approach him, walking
naturally across the platform, disap-
pear through the opposite door, which
is promptly closed behind them by
the second servant. Washington re-
tires into his chair, and all is quiet
save the measured tick of the huge
pendulum, and the ringing Of tie
quarter hours, until another hour has
passed.
Deafness of the Aged.
Nothing is more common than to hear
old people utter querulous complaints
about their deafness; but those Who do
so are not perhaps aware that this in
firmitv il the result of an exnress and