Newspaper Page Text
PRAISE AND BLAMi,
the world give* me blam
Ah, could the world but know
What weret springs of shame
And self abasement flow
!• rom my cleft heart, below
Th- u r i of all biame!
And frinmls have given me praisot
5 t*t none have hit the love
J hat spans my nights and days,
i'or cen the little dove
That 11 * far above
Th rrowa of their praii se.
J. T. 7 row britlrje, in Toufh’a Companion.
TTTF 1 Xllj LAD T A HV I TAT UN PI? CjKA A V I.
J»V WAI.TKH ( OOI’Kll.
nnd Naturally have I am a very observing man,
“a no for news,” otherwise
1 should ng ago have be = looked upon
le, and would =r ive received
ot ices variou: shapes that, “owing
to cite dance etc. etc.; but such
linn be* my fate but once, and that was
the I lining of my romance.
1 Notwithstanding my ob^ervative habit
ill" I e'/life S that there are moments
wheu 1 l«| ,nf o period of what might
b '' '' nn ' 'I ' thinking Im k,” and then I
do not “Ob erve „,o,e than half of what
V' x ,af ' . * h , ft my Wils home, i° on and e of to these this rnoods day I
t uni"! re ill how I n ached the Brooklyn
l.rul g< on my way to New York, but I
female aw l.'la , fhruio. / »ui"l toi"h oVS
I U.. I ll;Z!; U / ’7,
I....... 0
Tie. lady, f..r he ... a lady, an, one
could sic it in a mom.'iit ns she wore a
h't licit you could look over the toil of,
:in 'l v ‘ 11 nrouml her without
.
(list u; bin" Iu*r reurwaid drapeiy, looked
at mein a half id, half-|Ui/./.ical man
an 'I as the same moment the
shadow of the New York terminus cume
mi i the car, and I realized that wc had
remind our journey’s end, I am satisfied
ihit 1 bln dud, and said again: “I be^
your pardon. I upied.” °
win preoc
She bowt d to me and .smiled in a sad
way, as much as to say she did not doubt
me, and we went our several ways, I
xv a not so distrait when went
down the stairs leading to Park
Row, as not not to to observe observe that she crossed
the foot-bridge leading to the park.
Iu the e< mimed moment that I had to
look at her my usual observative habit
camu into play, and I noticed that site
wore a gray stulf dress, not at all new,
bill, well cared for and neat, and not so
tight in the arms as to pull out in the
ba k, and while she lmd on the usual
brown kid gloves, lhe backs could be
plainly seen through the stitching, and
i he linger ends were neatly darned and
showed long and constant wear.
1 went i through nfy duties that day in
an entirely meoliaiiical manner and was
-incwluu surprised when the city edi
“What the deuce is this you have
been xvr;l pig about, a gray dress? ”
I Ire.to ied to his desk and* lookin'?
ovn m v copy said:
“I meant it for ‘ great distress,’” aud
with a grim look he said :
\\ hy didn't you write it so? ” and I
xvciit away sore at lieu 1 1, for 1 am rather
prumi of my “copy,” and know that the
typos bke to set it, as it is so clear.
1 did not knoxv that I had been think¬
ing of u gray dress, but it seems that l
had, and as I crossed (he bridge that
night it xvas nearly midnight 1 looked
in a vague wa , tor a gray dress, which
did not appear, and I let myself in my
home with a feeling that I had missed
some t hing-. A Iter t hat night 1 seemed to
live in a gray atmosphere. 'The hay
days of Indian summer had come, to 1 e
I .11,.wed by the misty ones of the close
following winter.
It y;icw to be a habit, of mine to time
my bri Ige ti p as nearly as J could to the
tune when ! i ist saxv her. 1 scanned the
la cs on the platform before I entered the
< hope in that I invariably secured a seat, in the
1 might give it up to her At
length 1 had my reward. It was over a
mouth su.ee I had seen her, but finally
slm entered a full ear xvhere I xvas
seated. 1 at once arose and said ■
•'I f i t- accept my seat before we get
over this time.” She smiled, bowe l and
Mushed a. though she also remembered
our tiist meeting, ami not a word was
said until we reached the New York
si tie, when, as w e left the car ' 1 said tn
her:
“I do not widi you to think me rude,
but 1 have been looking for you for over
a month to apologize to you for my
seemingly rude conduct to you the first
ti.no 1 met you. 1 o you remember it?'’
She sa d with a-mile
“ \ cry well, indeed I did not at the
time think you in;ended any rudeness;
but 1 imagined you were 'thinkim* of
something, and had only waked up to
the fact that you were upon the bridge
xvhen we xvere '
l said that 1 had often thought of the
• lay, and hail hoped the day would come
xvhen 1 could see her and tell her that 1
only intended to act as a gentleman, and
not to call attention to her. as she might
have thought, ami as 1 had seen others
do, "ho.kindly offer their seats to ladies
after finishing their own journey in the
stnet ears.
She said : “I did not look at it at all in
that light, for 1 ready do not believe x'ou
knew xvhere you xvere when you spoke to
me.
“How long ago it seems.” I said,
“Have you any idea when it was?’’
“ 'h. yes, perfectly. It xvas on the
'-5th of Oct >ber. 1 wrote it in my diary r
amt In side it xvas my birthday.” "
AH this while I had been walking be
side her, and then I said : “Will you be
offended if I xvalk with you as far as you
are going?’’ "
“Not at all,” she said. “I am only
going on the next blocs, where 1 work
in a hookbiudery.”
8he looked up at me xvith honest eyes,
and they w rc gray too, like the dress
she wore, the first one 1 saw her in, and
xvhen we readied the do r of the tall
factory I tore a sheet from my memoran
dum book and wrote my name upon it
xvith my address. ] asked her if she
would feel offended if I waited to see her
on the other side of the river the next
morning and she told me “Not at all.”
Then I said:
“Whom will I meet:”
8he gave me another of her wholly
sweet and half-sad smiles and handed
me a neatly written card, evidently done
by her own hand, which read: “Eunice
Gray, ( lermont avenue, Brooklyn.”
j^ 1 walked on air that day and toil was
pleasure, and when it fell to my lotto
write something ice-cart about and a horse-ca collision be
tween an a r , in
which an old lady was killed,the matter
of-fact editor said to me:
“\\ hat’s the matter with you? Take
this plagued of blank verse of and it. make a
stickful common sense
I came down out of the clouds aud
did his bidding, and slept but little that
night after finding my pillow. mother
I kissed my dear old with un
wonted tenderness that morning. She
was all I had in the world then, aud I
THE MONROE ADVERTISER: FORSYTH. GA H TUESDAY. JUNE 12. 1888.—EIGHT PAGES.
was all (‘he had, my father having died
ten years before, leaving her with aslen
der fortune, and myself and an older sis
ter to smooth as best we could her path
down the declining years of her life.
A little more than a vear before, my
listir had Won uU-n with . severe cohl,
which ended in a fatal attack of pneu
monia, and she was lying by the side of
our father in the shades of Greenwood
and poor mother, i like Rachael, “would
vsr.f _ orn ___ r or . * c
* ~*
\vi >V hen I met Eunice , that morning # she
holdout her hand, covered with the
hame nea ly darned gloves, and I could
J 1 ' 1 '* if we were strangers. I told
j he r so, and also what little of history
I j there was in my humdrum, uneventful
life, and asked her if die would allow me
,.„ii . 1 h , h t that .i. ni 8 ht i and , finuh .
my mvstorv story.
.‘'he said: “I have but a poor home
to show'von > but if J von will come 1 shall '
-
, ,
,J> ,l 1 7.'
How slow , the hours passed < that , . day, ,
and when the hour of 7 came, I rang the
bell at a cottage door, V„1 which she herself
oncnc .‘ 1 to me ehanrred ‘ W
t , ‘ ... an , i i 1,1 i -F’P . i 1,(1 i”;. 1 i ’ . ,
house dress of soft material, :
some gray
i ‘ tldl ^ k cd lovelier to me than ever
, ^ „ ""..j 1 ;" \ ■'*, ff !q': r ta oVrathpr liu!
l ‘ l \ 1 j - rs vs 11
* j ^ >
. \ . [ ?■ 1 1 ' ‘ s V , */
1 " l •'’ ‘", V ‘‘ n ' ' 1,1 ni<l< L 101
„ ia ,"' ,
' ..\i 1 :
, .
‘ ’ 8 jUni< 0 > ’ UH *' V 1 '
,< , j t . ,
loosh-5 h:’:z
r-« »'»•»* over-it;
And I told yon when I ea.ne home Jo
■"-ht that he was coming to sec us. Ho
JOU : cmem ,er ‘
‘ ) ^ hl, nIC0 ’ 1 8f “ CI " to remember;
, 'J ( /. > n ° 4 ,f r iiri . s 1 ? v i as
^ .‘. '
r , ^ ,
U ^ W ‘ lS iC,e * ,iS iere
no <r
,,v ’ '{L Ml ri } a ^ , >e onc
‘
°' inor r°' v - * 0 "ius. x p.iticu , jou
’w‘ rH ^ 0 '’’ 8 ., ' vhcrc , r can sec you
l ''.G •,' Sl|< l .unii . ,e s mol 7 km
1 .
»■ he eagerly scanned my face for a
" llll,n ! 1 ,, » " ‘ u 1 ’ 1M * an a '’ c ’,
am n n sun 1 \ es, . turn j ou could 1
. \
!,, 1 '! 11 '. c f ) u 1 ^ ou " uL ° r a
i 1 .* .. 1 r ol c 01,1 y (<lIS , , ,
-
‘ V' , . lun U! 0,1 rs l an 1 owa e
pinched ■ | wan face, f and the ,, sobbing .
brmigl, otia cough whmh ended in a
o o >i ght blood from the jialc, thm
Ups.
Eunice took (lie pillows from under
her mother's head, and while I offered to
run for a physician, she had poured out
some styptic already at hand, and the
hemorrhage after, was stayed. She fell asleep
soon and we sat silent by her side
^ or a while, and unconsciously had
clasped our hands,
i s&und Alter b a time, walked when noiselessly her mother slept
T ) w e into the
front room and almost in a whisper
story of ber owuand
< I'ntil live years before she her father
«»« mother had lived a quiet, happy life,
her father being a junior partner in a grain
and provision house in Broad street, and
from his share of the profits had bought
the home where they now lived, anti had
hlid by for a rainy day a snug some of
money judgment in bonds. One day a friend,
whose he thought infallible,
came to him and unfolded a scheme where
large which profits were sure to ensue, but
took more money than he alone
could command. Mr. Robert Grax" took
ab 11 ! aaN1 "h s except %-0 and cm
V a '.i , d in 1C Ulldei a kiiig. f ben a
ftnther^sum was required,, and rather
Gum tavclus little remaining hoaid, he
,ndorM ' d triend s notes xx 11 1 i h s firm s
uauie ' " llc ; 1 v a> :l ''Datmii of hs
copartnership agreement. I he pro
-l 04 ’} bu et > am ‘ ,ra y> alter
| writing . a broken-hearted letter to lus
am ing all the circumstances,
and anidt ' ) his firm, in which he
!dat< ? d lt! would in time makegood
the loss he had caused them, had left
tbe cit N’ and from tbat da Y 110 word
bad boen beard from him. His firm re
fused u > tak « fr ™. Mrs - ^ thc ldt!e
\momw her the that deeds she of had, her or.even homestead, accept which f from
stood in her name, and said they were
willing to wait Mr. Gray’s own time for
settlement, ln all these years no word
Dad come fro n her father. They had
let >ye«l the as upper economic floor ally of as the they cottage could, to had a
tenant, and still they had to encroach
i on hoaltu their small broken, hoMd&g. ami she Tho became mother's
was a
confirmed invalid, xvhich added another
drain. Eunice, who xvas but sixteen at
the time of her father’s flight, saw but
one way out of the dilficul tv. She must
go ?rti to work. Through her own ex
™ s sh(> secured xvork in the book
. bindery where she uoxv was, and was
earning fair xvages, and there her story
ended.
When I left her that night I told her:
“I always waut to be your friend, and
if I can be of any service in any way.
and do not see it myself, you will,*I
know, point it out to me.” And then
xve said our first “good night.”
Early next morning I told my mother
the entire story of our acquaintance and
begged her to call on done Mrs. Gray and see
if anything could be to relieve her
in any way, xvhich she promised to do.
Eunice had told me xvhen xve parted at
night that she might be late in going
over, but I could call the next evening
if I would, to see how her mother was,
so I did not wait at the bridge aud took
a lonely ride.
When I reached home that night I
found a note from mother asking me to
come at once to Mrs. Gray’s. I arrived
there only to find my worst fears real
iz.ed. The poor woman had had a return
of the hemorrhage shortly after my
mother’s arrival, the physician had been
unable to stop it, and her life had ebbed
away.
There is no need to tell of the quiet
funeral, or of the drix*e back from the
family plot to otir own home, xvhere
mother insisted Eunice should stav for a
few days, until she had learned be'tter to
bear her grief. The days grew to weeks
and ex’ery time mention was made by the
poor girl and of the necessity of her going
home ba*k to her work, mother
said: “Not yet.”
What use is there to tell how they two
grew to love each other, or of the*state
0 f my own heart, for I was well aware
that Eunice knew, even if I had not
spoken.
One night as we sat by the fire in our
snug parlor, mother said gently:
“Eunice, dear, you have no mother, I
have mother no daughter. if will I will be gladly be your
you my child.” I
knelt at her feet and said: “For my
sake.”
And so she stayed. The cottage where
her mother died was rented entire, and
brought daily hei toil, in enough means to obviate
any ancl when June of last
year was brightest daughter she really became my
mo her s and my wife.
There is a very little romance in all
this, you say, and'that. no doubt, is the
fact, and here is where it comes in.
bout a month ago, as I xvas looking
over the exchanges in the office, I picked
> up the Leadvillc Chronicle and read the
j 1 following short paragraph:
As Mr. Robert Grayson, the owner of the
famous Holy Cross mine, was descending the
1 shaft in the second level, the bucket rope
whc n «** bottom, and he was
, IS
fatal. L>r. Winner, who was called in, told
the injured man if he had any directions to
£* ve as to the disposal of his effects he bad
d ,° 90 at T^' He " uid iu f, wiil a nd
letter of instructions , were m Counselor ,
Peters’s hands, and shortly after became tin
conscious. He is not expected to live through
the.night.
In the next issue was this:
Mr. Graydon, of the Holy Cross Mine,
died short y after midnight. Counselor Peters,
who held the letter of instruction in hu
' and f’ whl,h in 911 enveI <£ > A m lorsed:
1 o be opened only after my death, . savs
that!he opened it in the presence of witnesses
and that the only instructions it contained
were a re pi-st to find if a Mrs. Elinor Gray
and her daughter Eunice were living at No.
— Clermont avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y., and in
that event to notify them of his death, as
they w-re his widow and daughter, and that
his real name was Robert Gray.
His will leaves that after tno payment of
, his j™* debts the property reverts to the
mother for natural life, and at her death to
go rather solely to the daughter. Mr. Graydon, or
JJX'hT Gray, had just sold a half interest in
wls^’to have
baken place next Saturday.
I ffave myself ray own assignment for
that and many succeeding to^Gunnison days Eunice a^med
and Imade thetrip
with the proper proof of her identity
and carried out the terms of her father’s
contract. The mine pays her about
*4000 monthly the firm of which Mr
-nyc l.im tvhon I drop in on him and
House luneh
“«•
“ ’
The Rainbow as a Weather Prophet
As a weather prophet the rainbow’s
fame is widespread. Abundance its of proof
of this is given by name. It is the
rainbow in English, Italian, German,
pj C ardy, Gaelic, Breton and in the Toda
dialect of India. Germans also ca'l it
“weather sign,” and it is also “water
bow” in Gaelic and Finnish, and “cloud
bow” in Arabian. It is believed in Nor
mandy that rain will come in nine days
a ft er the appearance of a rainbow. The
weather proverbs concerning the rain
bow arc more or less widely known,
Many are simple variations of the fol
lowing J .
Kainb w at ni ht 9hepherds ’ delig ht;
Rainbow at morning, shepherds have warn
j ng
Or, as the old English work has it: 4
The rainbow in the mornin’
Giesthe To shepherd warnin’ his back;
gar his girt ewat on
The rainbow at night
Is the shepherd's delight,
For then no girt ewat does he lack.
The nautical version is also well
known:
Rainbow at night, sailors' delight;
Itainbow in tho morning, sailors take warn¬
ing.
The French form of the proverb has it:
Sfttlema^take Tby^‘way;
Rainbow at eve,
Little man, do not leave.
a curio s collection of weather
signs collected by the signal bureau
there is much recorded concerning the
vaiubow as a meteorological indicator in
this country. It is widely believed that
it is a sign that the rain xvill come:
If there is a rainbow at eve,
It will rain and leave.
^ mormngrainbowisusuallyindica- short,
tive of more rain, or of heavy rains:
n n j g ht bow, of coming fair xveather.
Two or three bows are thought to fore
s h a( i ow pleasant xveather presently, but
se ttled bad xveather in a few days. If the
bow brea L up all once it is a sign that
sev ere weather will follow, and that rain
will follow after a drought or fair
wea g}i er after wet. When the green color
is comment rain and cool weather will
f 0 ]i 0W but wind and rain will occur
a ft er a rainbow in xvhich predominates,
^ rainboxv in the air signilies the next
day xvill be clear
A rainbow at morn,put your head hook in the the corn,
A rainbow at eve,put pour in sheave.
When seen in the distance, the rain
. means fair weather; when near at
, j • a -he mountains dSes’nottS bad weather lot
wate
, weather will follow A mornin"
. hSvv indicates Sn rain a noon bow s'i<?ht
and im evedn*? bow
, vcathei her' . '\ n easterly bow indicatesclear wett
‘ the 1 next ' day one in the
">«“? mor ? ™" . *ae ; same day. ^ A , ram
'? sp ', n ' s P rcccdes Ia,r "■ cathcr tor
forty-two hours.
The appearance of the rainbow over a
certain lake in Russia foretells drought to
, „ . and pSuees tlicv fear to whirlwind <?o on the
water Dec.iuse U it p.oauces a a wnmxvina
or water 8 P out » whlch wlU overflow th«
boats. — Chicago Herald.
The Bohemian’s Lore For Music
Anton Dvorak says that in Bohemh
every child must study music. “ Tht
law enacting this is old,” said he; “it
was once repealed, consider, but is now in forct
again. Herein, I lies one great
secret of our national talent for music in
my country. Our national tunes and
chorales came, as it were, from the very
heart of the people, and beautiful things
they were. I intend sor'e day writing an
oratorio into xvhich I shall introduce
some of these chorales. The Slavs all
love music. They may work all day in
the fields, but they are always singing,
and the true musical spirit burns bright
within them. How they love the dance,
too! On Sunday, when church is over,
they begin their music and dancing, and
often keep it up without cessation till
j early in the following morning. Each
village has its band of eight or ten mu
sieians—I belonged to It ours as soon as I
could fiddle a little. is supported by
the dancers, who pay nothing to go in,
but in the middle of their polka or waltz
a couple is stopped allowed by one of the mu
sieians, and not to continue
until llie Y have paid as many kreutzers
as they can afford. When ail is over the
band d ivide their earnings, and mine, of
course, used to be handed forthwith to
father .”—Providence Journal.
Mourning of Many Countries.
The National Educator gives the fol
lowing different list of colors the used world: for m urning in
parts of
, Black —The color of mourning in
Europe and ancient Rome.
Back and White Striped —Expressive
of sorrow and hope combined; worn by
the South-Sea Islanders,
Grayish, Bro.cn —The color of the earth;
worn in Ethiopia.
Pale Broicn —The color of withered
leaves; worn in Persia,
Sky-llue —Expressive of hope for the
deceased: worn in Syria, Cappadocia
and Armenia.
Deep-blue —The mourning of Bokhara
j in Central Asia,
j Purple and Violet— Denotes France* royalty;
worn for cardinals, etc., of Yio
let is the mourning of Turkey,
IT ite —Mourning of China, Unti:
1408 it was the mourning of Spain.
! Yellenv —Mourning worn in Egvpt and
Burmah. Y'ellow may be regarded as a
token of exaltation.
LIFE IN MANILA.
PICTURESQUE! SCENES IN THE
PHILIPPINE CAPITAL.
Pedlcrs of Luscious Mangoes and.
Cocoanut Products—Midday Si¬
esta-Luxuriant Hair of the
Women—Plaza La Lunetta.
writes.i p eon ] 0 ar ise rfu Mr i T ; n t b P mnrn ent*^ of° ; no . here t'
M a a c o-u- f'uiorul
Louis lienuMican retire late at ni^ht steenino- and
do the ma ; or portion of their
d during • the the middle middle of of the the day dav whoiwhc when the
U “ ’* h °\ aud * pleasant to work.
Long t before daylight the streets are
noisy with moving vehicles of all sorts
an d crowds of We lecrocd ’ hare arm P d
. of iU si/e hither
natives ot all size* . liuriy r tinner and an
thither on multifarious errands con
needed with the housekeeping and mer
cantile l 1 ® DeedS nee s of 0f thedavTheireoshime the “7* lheir C ? stu, " e
consists, „ solely, , as to . the men, of a pair
of very ttim muslin pants rolled up as
close to the hips as possible, and w'lien a
shirt is worn it hangs outside the pants;
the front is thrown onen and the sleeves
nre rolled up to the shoulders. Occa
s onally a hat is worn, which is shaped
like a wash basin, and is made of fin
ished bamboo strips or sheets of tortoise
^hell. The women wear gaily-colored
calico skirts and a loose jacket of calico
or muslin. These articles comprise their
entire apparel. In the throng may be
seen an occasional Mestizo or native lady,
^Xerchtef fa whfeh her head! hair! wi 1
its wreath of trlossy let black rest,
like the petal of a lily The hair of the
average Mestizo, or‘native lady, is the
most attractive feature of her person. It
is always as black as night, usually
reaches far below her waist and grow’s
mot luxuriantly, bhe washes it every
morning, or, at least, every other morn
ing, and after the ablution anoints it
liberally with cocoanut oil. which is
almost as cheap as dirt. Y"ou can get
half a gallon of it for fifteen cents at
retail. Many a native girl trots along
the streets in these early morning groups
bare-footed and bare-armed, with
twenty-five edits’ worth of clothes on
her and a mass of glossy black tresses
hanging almost to her heels, that would
he considered worth a fortune by an
American belle.
Probably the most novel features of
these early morning scenes on the streets
are the groups, pairs, and single natives
coming to market with their loads of
vegetables, fruits, nuts, herbs, etc.
They have no horses or carts, but carry
very heavy loads on tlie'r shoulders by
means of which, of a strip of bambuo, at each end
suspended by thin ropes of
bamboo fibre, is quite a large basket, or
woven bamboo tray, filled with produce,
One of these baskets carried in the arms
would be a load for a very strong man,
yet one of these Indians, by means of
the elastic strip of bamboo, will carry
two and trot along at a brisk rate. At
each step the bamboo springs up and
down, assisting the bearer quite mate
rially by relieving him of half the weight
for an instant.
A group of this sort is quite pic¬
turesque, the gaylv-colored dresses of
the women, their black glossy hair
streaming doxvn their backs and being
tossed upon the fragrant and- cool early
morning breeze; the colored. shirts of
the men thrown open in front showing
their mahogany-colored breasts, the
rhythmical motion of their forms blend¬
ing xvith the rich beauty of the tropical
landscape outside the city.
When the sun is up there come forth
on the streets a myriad of pedlers of all
sorts, from the Chinaman with a whole
dry goods store dangling at either end of
a bamboo pole to the scantily dressed
native woman with a broad bamboo tray
on her head filled with “gobs” of rice
paste, cocoanut and sugar, which she
sells for “dos cuatros” or one copper per
“gob.” Then there are xvomen with
huge trays of luscious mangoes, the most
delicious fruit in the world, and found
in perfection only on the Philippines;
women and boys with great baskets of
boiled and roasted green corn, who sell
four ears for a copper; women with
cocoanut shells filled with rare guava
jelly, selling four full shells for twenty
cents; pedlers of all sorts of sweets in
which rice is one of the chief component
parts; pedlers of every conceivable thing
used in housekeeping, and more beggars
than you can count. When the sun be
gins to near the meridian the roar and
bustle of traffic dies away, and by noon
the streets are almost deserted, the heat
driving almost everyone undercover,
A Sabbath-day quiet reigns until about
4 o’clock, when the vehicles begin to
roll again, the pedlers awaken from their
midday siestas and the beggars uncover
their deformities and emerge into the
°Pj Q s \ eets ° ^rfDden timid women
and children, and plead piteously xvith
,he pedestrian*, who usually give them
i copper or txvo •to induce them to get
out of sight. The beggars are a choice
lot, and presen some °F the nmst sick
enmg malformations that you can
imagine.
By ) o clock he streets are filled , with . ,
carriages of all sorts, the horses racing
mong at fu.l _ speed, and as they are
largely occupied by ladies dressed in
bright colors, and with nothing on their
heads but a bit of ribbon or lace the
scene is quite attractive. Everybody s
objective point at this hour of the day is
La the Lunetta, shore a the large, well-kept plaza on
of bay, where a military
baud of some sixty to seventy-five pieces
discourses music hat would not be dis
creditable to Gilmore. Here many of
the visitors leave their carnages and
promenade up and down the smoothly
graveled space about the music stand
but the majority remain seated and
drive around the vast driveway with
the immense cavalcade Here all the
fashion, youth and beauty of the city as
semble almost nightly, inhale .the brae
mg sea breeze and chat with their friends,
At 8 o clock the music ceases and the
hundreds of carriages whirl with their
occupants over the smooth roads to
dinner. Everybody dines at 8 o clock,
and from 9 o’clock to 12 p clock make or
receiye calls. At midnight the city is
as quiet as a grax eyard.
Entombing a Sparrow.
A pair of barn martins spent two days
in constructing one of their mud nests
under the eaves of a barn in Warriors
mark Township, Penn. These nests have
a small hole in the side for ingress and
egress of the birds. When the nest was
completed an English sparrow took pos
session of it and defied all the frantic
efforts of the martins to dislodge it.
The rightful owners of the nest tried for
a xx hole day to dispossess the intruder,
but, being defeated, they brought mud
and deliberately plastered up the hole in
the nest, hermetically sealing it, and en
tombing the pugnacious sparrow in the
home it had usurped. The martins then
built another nest at the side of the
first one, and are occupying^ it as^ if
nothing had happened.— New York
Time*.
Child Labor in India.
By the way, in every shop that we {
have visited, sav s Carter Harrison’s Bom
bay letter, the most costly articles were '
for the American market. In this shop
we saw a score or more of men at work
on friezes and entablatures for a Mr.
Forrest, of New York. I would like
that he should see this letter, for it would
be a pleasure when he sips his wiue aud
looks upon his elaborate sideboard of
teakwood to know that some of the most
exquisite of its rich carvings was done
b r a father and son. the little fellow
h®' 11 ® onl y seven years old. How his
Httle taper fingers would handle the tiny
c Wsel and how accurate was his eve when
Le wrought % V from the hard meaningless odo?
d ’ a liU 0 " er 11 that mai almost aimosi had naa an an ouor,
?<> soft were its petals. The child had
inherited the talent of its father, as he
had done from his parent, * and so through
i .• „„..i haps far t back i. ♦ to those .1
P C0 P le whose P, handicraft , _ made the - rich
relics in marbIc and "*ood of {our cen
turies a*m. ° Here children follow the
f at b er - g ft It is deemed a sort of
- disgrace , for .i the children ,
j a ‘^ to permit
tne profession of their father to die out
ln their generation. A boy steps from
bis mothers arm, aye, from her very
h reast H° r children are not. weaned until
^ur ®h J P or five * years ' c hither o!d), and mto a a compamon- partaker of
lls tod and a ^pier of his art. We have
! jecn m at s Amritsir ® ve ral small and Lanore carpet and weavers’ other
P, ipuses ace3 aad every where large part of
> a
the ■weaving was done by little boys.
g asf tLcotfer. A^ic -'t«r“V e^of 'yarlfe
to insert ctlt
™> W •»« then off with a knife
*« make the even, velvety tuft. The
weaver does not have a design before
him but another boy sits in front with
.design f ^ and. calls out of the chant. next color The to
inser e< ln a sort
weaver repeats this as he runs the color
in. The first boy calls out for one or
more who are on the other side of the
web, and thus dictates for them all. To
oae not would understanding the thing the
c uunt be taken lor a sort of reli
gmusi exercise. In one shop in the Pun
;! Pbere ab tbere were was four no ^ xe( i design at all.
weavers on a rug, say
b 7 fifteen feet. Tney had a common
J dea m 'heads, but each worked out
portion . of the carpet simply with
“ 1S a
f [ ee hand a ® he went - There serein the
shops named above two beautiful fabrics
being woven for New York. There
were * w0 Dictators and, I think, five
weavers. They progress only a few
ln es a da Y- manager, to my in¬
. to the cost of these, simply
quiry as re¬
plied: “They are very costly. That is
what the Americans want.”
Olu-Time Missouri Courtship, „ ...
“When I was a young man,” said the
politician, “I traveled in the Southwest
considerably, selling saddles, etc. On
one of my trips I stopped over night in
a settler’s cabin in Southeast Missouri,
The settler and li's family were mighty
cordial, gave me the best they had and
made me welcome to a bunk on the floor
with them. The oldest daughter was
sixteen or seventeen years old and a per
Feet beauty for her situation. She was
the kind of girl a novelist would break
his neck to get hold of for a heroine.
She’d be very picturesque and pleasing
in a book, but I shudder when I think
of her in real life. She took quite a shine
to me and before we laid down she had
told me nearly everything she ever heard.
A heavy rain fell during the night, and
as the roads had been heavy before, they
were not passable the next morning. So
I had to stay at the cabin. The girl was
very attentive the three days I was there,
an( l on the evening of the last day she
said: ‘ Say, is you uns married?’ I told
her ‘no,’ and wanted to know why she
asked. ‘ Well, if you uns ain’t’ she said,
‘ we uns might get spliced.’
The speaker paused to allow his hear
er s time to break all their buttons and
then proceeded:
“Her father approved heartily of the
plan. ‘ I’ve been xvishingyou uns would
hitch ever since I seen you uns.’ he said,
and the whole family was so congratu
latory that I was afraid to decline. I
pretended to accept, and offered to ride
to the meeting house about twenty miles
away and get the preacher. They
laughed at the idea. ‘ We uns can marry th'e
girl ourselves said. by kissing insisted over a candle,’
I on the preacher,
and after a long argument got my horse
out to ride for him. Just as I was about
to mount the girl came out of the cabin
arrayed to go with me. That was too
much. I mounted in a hurry, laid switch
to the horses’ flanks and rode off at the
top of the horse’s speed. I have never
seen the charmer since. "—Post Dispatch.
The Agility of Buffaloes.
An old buffalo hunter who was en
gaged in supplying the larder of an over
land railway construction camp tells one
G f bis experiences to the Forest and
stream: On rushed the herd, now thor
oughly frightened, and as we hurried on
a ft e r them we fairly shouted in triumph
as we saw that right in front of them ran
a ra vi ne which, xve could see at a point
beyond, was at least forty feet deep,
The ravines in this light subsoil,torn out
b y the deluging rains that occasionally
f a R 0 n the plains, were commonly broken
off at the edges the just as steep as soil could
ha and buffalo xvere sweeping tim£
on a tornado, with little to
look before they ended,* leaped, I felt sure that
our hun t was jetted the meat unAcessary supply as
£ured Ater and onlv the
a i aug 0 sure to follow as the fated herd
tave pi im ged down the steep. I would not
thanked anv man to insure us fifty
hea d of dead or crippled buffalo. Over
they 'slackened went , 300 yards ahead of us, and
we our pace to a walk and be
Slaughtered p i anni ng how to get "the the meat of the
diciilar herd up nearly perpen
walls of the ravine. When within
300 vards of the brink, to our amazement
a bl xffalo appeared Ather wall clambering the ravine up the
face of tlie of at a
point limbing that afterward found taxed the
J £ powers of a footman. Another
and an t er came bobbing up, and we
drew up the horses, oAe, utterly dumfounded,
to see that every even to the calves
had made the plunge V in safety,
TM ’ to me ’ , a s one of the most note
worth thin that ever came under my
observation. Many times afterward we
saw buffalo tracks on the slight deep gullies, projec¬
tions of the walls of these
ju places where we could only stop and
stare.
The Mice Were Dainty.
An English analyst “recently received
twelve specimens of supposed discover butter,
which he was to analyze to
which were pure and which were oleo
margarine. After taking what he wanted,
fie set the twelve plates in his laboratory,
Next morning the butter had disappeared
from ten,and on two it remained. These
two were adulerated, and the others
pure. Suspecting mice, he set out other
plates, some containing pure and some
adulterated in various degrees. Again the
the pure butter was cleared away,
slightly adulterated half-eaten, and the
much adulterated only nibbled.— Argo
naut.
CANNED GOO!A
A BUSINESS THAT HAS GROWN
INTO VAST PROPORTIONS.
The Trade Boomed By the War
The Great Variety of Goods
That Are Canned —A
Mistaken Idea.
An industry in this country which has
grown to enormous proportions is that
of preserving food products by canning
and bottling. In 1807 M. Appcrt, a
that distinguished organic French chemist, remained found fresh
substances
an indefinite time by being kept from
little contact with the air. Comparatively
use was made of this invention for
many the years except by sailors. About
year 1835, however, a small local
trade sprang up in this country in canned
oysters and tomatoes. The discovery of
gold in California gave an impetus to
the trade, but the first great expansion
of it was during the civil war. Since
that time the canned goods trade has
advanced by leaps and bounds until at
present there is a capital of $11,000,000
invested here in fruit and vegetable
canning alone, giving employment to
35,000 persons, who earn yearly $3,000,
000, and turn out of goods $20,0U0,000,
leaving . net profit , of about twenty
a per
cent, to the investors.
During the war advantage was taken
by the Lnion Commissariat Department
ot the economy in bulk and the ease in
transportation of canned goods, ( anued
meat was found useful lor rations in
lorcsd marches; canned milk was^ a
valuable substitute for fresh milk m the
hospitals had, and when the latter could not be
the health of the army was
largely maintained by canned fruit and
vegetables. end the those engaged
At the of war
. the manufacture of tnesogoods turned
in
their attention to supplying the European
markets with salmon and lobster. lhe
lobster export trade had started ten years
previously in the New England States.
Soon after trie Canadians began
salmon packing industry, but did j'°t
meet with success. But the utilization
of the enormous run of salmon up the
Columbia and other rivers on tb e
Pacific coast put new life into the in
dustry. Some idea of how much the
trade has grown may be gathered from
the fact that, while in 1800 the pack
of salmon was only 4000 cases, during lhe
past four years it has averaged 3,800,
The next great era in the trade was the
compiession of corned b*ef. Chicago,
embarked being a great heavily cattle centre, this enterprise. at once
in
Foreign governments largely recognized
the value of this system of preserving
beef. They ordered large quantities ol
it for consumption by their war forces,
Much of this was stored as a reserve in
case of war, but as the supply wr.s
exhausted it has been continually rc
newed, to the profit of the American.
The success of the Americans in canning
goods provoked emulation, the English nable and French
people to k to compete
with the United States in what had been
already done, they turned their attention
to the canning of delicacies. This trade
was developed to a very large extent in
Europe, and extended to this country,
But the importation of these goods lias
fallen off in recent years, as this country
has gone into the manufacture of this
class cheaper of goods, and produces inferior a much the
article, not at all to
imported. developement the
The of canned goods
industry has been great, but the variety
of articles treated in this way has been
even greater. Beginning as it did with
ship’s beef, it has extended until it em
braces nearly all the desirable food pro
ducts of the vegetable and animal king
clom. Lieut. Greely, after his famous
Arctic expedition, said that canned ap
pies, peaches, pears, rhubarb, green
peas, green corn, onions, » potatoes
and tomatoes were all subjected to a
temperatnre of sixty degrees below zero,
They were solid for many months at a
time, the second summer they thawed,
and the following winter they were
frozen solid again. When these articles
were eaten they presented the same ap
pearance as though freshly canned, and
their flavor was as good xvhen the last
can was opened as during the first month,
Canned goods have proved a great
boon to the housekeeper. In cities, at
any rate, the goods preserved are cheaper
than if bought in the fresh condition,
This arises from the fact that they are
always packed and where the material is
cheapest exercised, most abundant. the A great
economy is too, by whole
sale preparation popular idea of meat that and canned fish.
The goods
are injurious to health is a mistake.
Tin, which forms the coating of the thm
iron plates of which the cans are made,
is pot acted on at all by any ordinary
acids pr by the gases of decomposition,
Certain firms in this city have followed
up every case of alleged poisoning from
canned goods without finding ordinary a single
one of them authentic. r J he
precautions of taste and smell as applied
to fresh goods are a sufficient protection
against danger in similar goods when
canned, and judging by the progress of
the past decade in this method of food
preservation, it seems likely to have a
still larger future before it.— New York
Sun.
Almost Frozen in Bitumen.
A singular and at the same time serio¬
comic accident, happened to a Paris
watchman named Parnot. Parnot xvas
employed near the Champ de Mars to
look after some buildings which xvere iu
the course of construction, and in order
to keep himself warm during the night
he put some planks over a cauldron of
boiling bitumen, aud, covering himself
carefully up, went to steep on them,
Dunn*? the night the planks slid gave way
by degrees, and the man gently into
the bitumen. Under normal conditions
he ought to haxm been boiled, but the
bitumen was just frost, beginning to feel the
effects of the and so the watchman
was saved from a horrible death. Un
luckily, however, the bitumen before
thoroughly freezing had adhered to Par
not’s clothes and flesh, and about four
o'clock in the morning he xx _ as awakened
by cold which seemed to hax-e entered
the marrow of his bones. On endeavor
ing to get up, he found himself glued to
a bed of adamant, and shouted ener¬
getically for help. His cries attracted
some matutinal marauders who were
prawling around the locality for plunder,
and these worthies, instead of helping
the unfortunate man out of h:3 bitumi
nous bed,eased him of his watch, a purse
his containing a small sum of money, and
knife, after xvhich they indulged in
unseasonable chaff as to his inability to
“rise with the lark,” and finally left him
to his fate. Parnot was nearly frozen to
ath when the workmen arrived in the
orning and extricated him from his
rilous position. He had to be admitted
the hospital as an urgent case, for not
iy were his feet frozen, but he had
riousiy injured himself in his energetic
out ineffectual endeavors to rise.— Ad
ver titer.
n
*>
Novel Method of Fishing.
The two Indians were going to show
us their method of catching trout and
salmon. decidedly While interesting, not sportsmanlike it was
They first select a suitable hole with
tish enough to be an object. In this case
R was about ‘JOG yards long, thirty feet
wide, and varying in depth to ten feet.
At the bottom, lazily swimming fish. around,
were a number of big From a sack
Johnnie produced stretched two light the gill nets,
which were aero s stream,
a bout forty thc‘ yards apart. Then he pro
a ucc( l tips of a spear, which were
bound to a strong willow pole. These
tips when thrust into a fish come olf the
, >() i e) but aie held by buckskin strips,
n ow we arc ready for business. Rocks
are thrown into'the water and the
st artkd fish dart about, and in a nio
nicnt t j ic fl oa ts of a net arc jerked
violently under the water: 'The fish
wr ithes'and twists, tangling himself up
hopelessly, and is soon taken out bv his
<\n<ky captors. Sometimes a heavy' fish
void'd break the net and escape, but not
often. After a number had been caught
this way the frightened fish hid under
lhe rocks and sulked. T hen the spear
oame into p i aVi ‘the sevc ral being taken,
0u receiving 1 orbs tlicv would
struggle violently, and being hauled
out by main strength and awkwardness
would make a good light.
-Most of tlio tish had now taken refuge
under large rocks in the deepest part,
and were clear out of sight. Then one
G f Indians with a small net eighteen
int.peg i n diameter, in the mouth of
which was bent a willow pole, making
resemble the ordinary landing net
slipped quietly into the almost freezing
ro |d water and disappeared under a
i ar ge rock. I held my breath in amaze
* uen t j au d after ho had been underneath
nearly a minute I conludcd lie had
drowned. But no; away down a dark
mass came slowly out and quickly his'head rose
lo tho sm -f acc . with a snort
pop p e d U p, while in the net under his
arm a twelve-pound fisli was struggling,
He crawled out shivering, and alter a
sun ba th was ready for another plunge,
A i ong the bank for thirty feet was a
slielving* rock under ■which several fish
had taken refuge. Propelling Indian himself
a ] ong £ frog fashion, the cleared
driving a onG dive, catching one fish and
out the rest.
Thus they kept at work, until, after
about three hours’ work, not a fish was
lcft in the ]lolc that would weigh as
much as a pound. They caught about
^qq p ounds of these fish on this trip,
During the height of the fishing season
the Indians from the reservation visit
ibis stream by tribes, and for miles cn
tirely clear the river of fish .—Forest and
Stream.
Trees.
t 0 many men a tree is known only in
jp s commercial point of view; it is so
many‘feet of uncut timber, or so many
pec ks of nuts; but the man who lives
close to nature learns to know it diller
ently.
‘Yonoak,” writes the German Lichte,
<< w hich grows beside my farmhouse,
was p l a nted an acorn two centuries ago
b y in y ancestor. and died Five generations have
been born beneath it. As I
up bdo its protecting shadow, or hear its
solemn whisper, can I doubt that its
life has some mysterious connection with
that of my family, and that, in it s dumb
-\ Va v, it shares our joys and our sorrows :”
q ] 3C hunters and trappers in the Ap
palachian they mountains speak of trees pre¬
cisely as do of human beings; this
oce j s “good-humored and friendly;”
that, “cantankerous and surly.” Tho
black balsam, they aver, knows a dark
secret, and grows only bare, solitary
pea ks, “as if it had a murder to think
0 f t » while the pecan-tree is fond of
young people, and xvill not thrive near
a house in which there is no child. Blind
folded or in the darkest night these
mountaineers can recognize the different
kind of trees by. their “voices,” as they
ca n the rustliDg of their boughs. They
] iave a store of singular facts to prove
the unaccountable loves and hatred be
txveen different trees, the world-old
antipathy known to all woodsmen be
tween the oak and the pine, for exam
p l e , or that between the ash and hickory,
Besides the giant trees of California,
theie are certain famous patriarchs in the
forests of the South which are regarded
with universal reverence and affection,
r p\ V o cedars in the Nantchela mountains
are estimated to be more than a tliou
san d years old, and a live oak on tho
Gulf coast is believed by some persons
to antpdate the Christinn era
It is probable this that the most magnificent of
trees on continent are a group
magnolias in de the Attakapas, Louisiana. of
The Comte P--, a French lover
made u ees, hearing of these majestic growths,
a journey to Louisiana to see them,
The old Swiss horticulturist who had
them in charge thus described his visit:
“He had never seen a magnolia. I
took him through the woods, that he
should not see these giants until he was
close upon them. They stand like kings
upon a high hill, each one perfect in
shape, crowned with crimson flowers,
draped with moss from head to stirred foot
T he sun shone on them; the wind
the moss like silvery veils. When ho
saxv them, he drew his breath and stopped
s h or t. Then he went up and and put his arms
a bout the trunk of one, the tears
rolled down his cheeks, and I—I loved
},; " m like a brother!”— Youth's Companion.
------ ---
Petty Thieving in City Groceries.
“The Italian xvomen,’’says a Philadel¬
phia grocer, “train their children from
th e toddlers up to pick up a handful of
coffee, xvhite beans or rice or potatoes,
P rime dried apples, in short anything
diey can extract from its receptacle while
} ye are not looking, and while the mother
is buying . four cents’worth of kerosene
03 'F they slip the things into their pock¬
c 7 30 slick that it would take a more
skilled man than an average detective
30 catch them in the act. lhe ‘sampling’
m l ar o er grocery itore.s by the better
class of buyers is a picnic alongside with
^ be P et ty larceny of these customers we
Dave to deal with. It is astonishing of
^hat similar allowances a shrewd grocer
has to make in figuring the cost of store
service and profits on goods sold. Some
people think it is simply first cost of
goods, hire, store rent, taxes and licenses and
clerk but the man who figures that
way.in bright putting shining on his prices never of the makes
a and success busi
ness *”—Philadelphia News.
The Number of Words Used.
Ex r ery well read man of fair ability
will be able to define or understand 20,
000 or 25,000 primitives and principal
derivative words,
The same man in his conversation and
writing, will use not less than 0000 or
7000 words. If he be a literary man he
will command 2000 or 3000 more.
Common people use from 3000 to 4000
words, according to their general intelli
gence and conversational poxvers.
An “illiterate man” (one who cannot
read) will use from 1500 to 2500 words,
A person xvho has not at command at
least 1000 words is an ignoramus, and
will find difficulty in expressing his
thoughts, if, indeed, he has any fo ex
press.— Literature.