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GRANDMA HULL AND THE HEATHEN.'
“TALES OF TEN TRAVELERS” * SERIES.
By EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.
* Copyright, 1894. AU rights reserved.
GRANDMA HULL.
The *lorv of Indian summer still lay
like a delicious dream upon the land when
a certain early November night came
upon Maple valley among the gray New
England hills, and with it all the storm
awept bitterness of winter.
It brought on a bad night early': a wild
Bight without, but within the great farm
bouses of the valley it also brought that
blessed warmth and glow which no storms
save those of misfortune and sorrow can
chill or change, and those dear old New
England suppers with their melodious
kettle songs, their wealth of shining
pewter, their spotless table cloths and
their hosts of flickering candles: those
pleasant, olden, year-round glow-worms
within the gentle murk and dark of ample
farmside homes.
At their evening meal, in the wide, low
living-room of Maple Hill farm-house, sat
“Grandma Hull.'’ her two remaining
fatherless children. 4-year-old Mary and
10-year-old Dick, and her servant Jane,
whose husband, old Josh Tooker, was
•till busy about the “chores” and in hous
ing the shivering dumb brutes from the
furious storm As the mistress of the
farm-house pushed her chair away from
the table, the light from the fire-place
revealed the sorrow sharpened out
lines of a plain, motherly face. White
haired from love labor and love loss, she
was still scarcely a middle aged womun,
who had come to be called “Grandma”
Hull by the valley folk opprobriousl.v at
first and finally from universal habit,
through her stubborn kindliness and
generosity to all suffering waifs cast by
the tide of misfortune on the rocky beaoh
.of Maple valley charity.
“She'd better tend tor keepin' Maple
Hill outer debtwas the remark of ope
member of the Turnover Club at the odor
ous village store.
“Its Jess sooh silly critters as keeps
Maple Valley full o’ passels er vaga
bonds;” struck up another.
“Jim Hull'd Shrink up till his grave
dothes wai loose at sech goin s on. if he
oud know on 'em, voucshafed another.
Even the parson wailed from the village
pulpit: “There are those in this very
•neighborhood—and may they be forgiven!
—who waste their substance upon godless
scoffers, when millions of heathen souls
•re hungering for the manna of the
Word!" Whereupon all the village con
gregation groaned at the obdurate in
fquity of Grandma Hull in the old house
on Maple Hill.
Whenever Grandma Hull was struck in
her untoward heart by a particularly
cruel shaft of this nature, she merely
clapped her sun bonnet on her head ; took
her Bible in her hand: started for the lit
tle family burying ground beside Maple
Hill grove, where the gipsies c*me and
camped once or twice each year; sat there
among the little herfdstones beside her
parents', .her children's and her dead hus
band's, Jim Hull's, graves for a little
time; when she always returned
home calm and cheerful to say to
Jane and Josh, as she had said
•cores of times before, that when
Jim died he had told her, nearly the last
thing ho said, to he “kinder easy and fair
to them as hadn't had mueh show,” said
that, neighbors or no neighbors, a little
kindness to the heathen right uader our
own noses seemed to be about the right
sort of religion for Cynthy HuU, widow,
better known as “Grandma Hull.” aft
long as she could keep the dear old home
together.
Suddenly old Josh Tooker, tin lantern
in hand, burst into the room like a half
shattered snow man, and quickly latching
the door gave a premonitory.
“S-s-s-sh!”
Settling down his lantern, he shook
himself into recognisable shape by the tire
place, and blurted out.
“Jane Tooker, git right outer this set
tin’ room! Bring the children He’s
cornin’! I seed him wrastlin’ in the snow
along the lane, and joss slid in ahead on
’im Cuss him!” And without another
word, he jerked his lantern from the
floor, jerked himself into the kitchen
among the hired men and slammed the
door behind him.
Then Jane Tooker rose up. She marched
Mary and Dick authoritatively before her
into the kitchen, and passing au instant
at the door just as muffled footsteps were
heard on the snow-bankod porch, re
marked portentiously:
“Yes; it’s him! t.iammar Hull, its sly
Silas. , Sunthin’s goin’ to happen. Sun
thin' alius does happen arter that pesky
old miser comes!" with which she snap
ped the door behind her, as 'Squire Sla
ter, the self-made great man of Muple
Valley village, in response to Grandma
Hull's in no wise cheerful answer to his
insistive knockings, was hurled into the
room, as though even the ugly storm was
glad for a little to be rid of him.
“Jess passing, C.vnthy. Been havin'a
hard day chasin’ Gipsies outer the valley.
Poor-house full enough now. Tough
night, aint it? Thoueht mobby you'd be
glad to see me a ininnit. 'Kememberin'
th’widder an'fatherless is a divine in
junction, Cynthy : an' bein’ in the law, I
alius mind injunctions!”
His square head was set so low between
his peaked shoulders and he was so
stoutly muffled, that the smart chuckle
which followed seemed to come from some
pocket or his great-coat rather than from
his hairy throat.
“Ye ain't changed yer mind yit, C.vn
thy?”
He waited a little, but got never a word
from Grandma Hull who now sat rocking
and looking calmly into the fireplace with
an impassive face.
“No? We're gittin' on in years. Cyn
thy. Lomme see. It’s nigh onto fifteen
{ear now—afore Jim’s time-ye know,
'm gittin’ richer ev'ry year—and you
aint!”
A close listener might have heard and
Other low chuckle from one of the great
coat pockets.
•‘Tough night, ain’t it? Well, guess
I’ll pall out. Prayer-meetin - night, an’
I’ve got to see young Jeff Dean yit. He's
chasin' away them gipsies, too. Ye
oughtn't to let ’em camp in the grove,
Cynthy. Makes talk. Course I hush it
up, down to the village. Course you need
money. But don’t keep doin’ things that
make talk, Cynthy. Its bad. Makes
trouble. Friends fall off; solid friends.
Makes money tighter, an' that's mighty
bad. Corners folks. Well, I'm off!”
He had the door open and was nearly
gone, when he turned to the woman who
had uttered no word and never changed
her position, when from the great-coat
came a parting injunction for Grandma
Hull to mind.
“Keep thinkin’ it over, Cynthy—hard.
With my money we could make Maple
Hill, well—jess shine. Keep thinkin’
Cynthy!” And with this, he closed the
door, only to encounter Josh Tooker,
again a snow-man in the pelting storm.
With a gruff salutation, the ’Squire
passed on.
“See here. Si Slater, - ’ called the bid
man after him, “taint no use. Taint no
airthly use! One gravestun down thar
in th’ lot's wuth more to Grammer Hull
than ev’ry gol-danged penny ye've got
throwed in!”
If there was answer. Josh Tooker
heard it not for the howling of the storm.
But if he had followed 'Squire Slater vil
lageward down the blinding road, he
, would have seen him pause for an mo
ment where the little graveyard lay
peacefully beneath the snow, to shake
his fist at the hallowed place of the dead
and mutter:
“I'i level ev’ry cussed stone, if I live
long enough!—and all your line airs 100,
Cynthy Hull!”
11.
MAPLE HILL CHARITT.
The occupants of the pleasant room had
scarcely all returned, when the storm
seemed to clutch the old farm house furi
ously, and a ghostly knock was heard at
the rattling door.
"There 'tis! I knew it. I knew sun
ten’ 'd happen!” gasped Jane Tooker dol
orously, flinging her ginam apron before
har e.ves ; while old Josh rose to his feet
threateningly. But Grandma Hull, quite
used to Jane’s alarms, merely said,
calmly:
"Come in!”
The latch was sprung quickly. Then it
was raised slowly. Another great frenzy
and wailing of the elements and a scared,
trembling girl wae shot out of the night
into the cheery old room. Then her hand
still upon the latch, the snow beaten into
her black hair, which was matt&l wildly
about her handsome head, she stood there
the embodiment of desperate hope and
fear, ready for instant fight at the first
intimation of unfriendliness.
Grandma Hull saw nothing poetic in
the weird apparition, and with a genuine
court-martial air, chopped out the one
word;
“Hungry?”
“Oh, missus! I doan't mind a-lsein’
hungry. But they be chasin’ husaway;
an’ I've gone an' got lost!” said the
heathen, as if half a mind to spring back
again into the night and storm.
“Oho!” ejaculated Grandma Hull, with
a world of conviction in the word. “I
see. You're one O’ them gipsies that’s
been campin’ in the grove?”
“Yes. missus, I bfc" rejoined the waif:
as if realizing that between her own and
the Christian race the gulf of hate and
distrust lay measureless and Impassible.
Then the little vagabond burst into tears,
which Richard Hgtl in after years re
membered made her sefcm pitiful, engag
ing and pretty.
Grandma Hull, never fussy about her
charities, made haste to bolt the kitchen
door against the hired men. Then, with
Jane and Josh, who were now bustling
with the warmth of transmitted hospita
ble influences, the wild thing was placed
at the table where, between excited sob
bings. she was made to oat a hearty meal;
everything on Grandma Hull’s part the
while being done with a brusque yet cer
tain touch of appreciation of the girl’s
immediate needs, that has in it genuine
humanity.
“Dirty?” asked Grandma Hull, when
the raven had finished her meal.
“Hus gipsies is never dirty!” said the
girl quietly, but with a noticeable fire in
her eyes.
“Pooh, pooh!” retorted Grandma Hull,
while she looked appealingly at Jane, who
in turn looked appealingly at Josh, while
Josh looked straight at the snow-pelted
panes ; but all three seemed clearly satis
fied that the vagrant must have a sousing
bath before lying upon a Christian bed.
The girl understood It all instantly, as
gipsies always understand. In a flash she
bad her splendid tawny bosom bared, and
then, whisking her sleeves up to her
npurnl shoulders, said excitedly: •’See,
Bye! —a oioau gipsy! ’ ’
In another instant she was bending
down to present the same unanswerable
argument as to her shapely legs. Jane
put her back agafcist the Kitchen doer
and again flung her apron over her head:
while Josh went to the window and Al
most ourtained it with his hulking form.
But Grandma Hull took the waif pris
oner, marched her into the garret, and
stowed her away In a capacious trundle
bed beside the roaring chimney, where,
muttering words in an unknown tongue
which surely held the modulation and ac
cent of prayer, this lost heathen sobbed
herself to sleep.
That night a gipsy brother, or mayhap
a good-for-nothing lover, had followed
the girl through the storm. For a mo
ment, perhaps, he had feasted his hungry
eyes on the gipsy racklie safe within the
farm house cheer. Then he had crept to
the barn, where, like a faithful dog, he
bad watched anti waited until morn. Re
fusing breakfast , he had taken charge of
the girl. and. after such grateful looks os
had novar glowed upon Maple Hill farm
house before, they had set out together,
hurrying across those bleak New England
hills like dark 'Silhouettes against a
winter sky. As they disappeared from
view. Jane Tooker remarked with all the
conscious firmness of prophecy to her
husband, who had lingered at the kitchen
window until the rugged Romany wore
lost from sight:
“Joshua Tooker, mind my words! Sun
thn’ ’ll happen. Grammar Hull ’ll hear
from this!”
And truer words were never spoken
than these.
, . 111.
CHARITY AFIBI.D.
Ten years had passed. North and south
the shadows of hate and strife lay close
upon a shuddering land. Because a few
cunning leaders had so willed, a million
Americans, those wearing the blue under
the old standard, those wearing the gray
under anew, sought like frenzied beasts
each others’ iives. North and south the
strength and light had gone, perhaps
never to return, from out a million happy
homes; and at Staple Hill, the trembling
hearts of Grandma Hull, of Mary, now a
sweet-e.yed lass of 15, and of faithful Jane
and Josh, wore ceaselessly quivering in
dire expectancy from every far-borne
thrilling echo of the dreadful conflict; for
somewhere in its thick aud heat was the
only son of Grandma Hull.
Along the blackened war fields Sher
man’s hosts had fought from Chickamauga
to Atlanta and beyond. The cruel sacri
fice of Atlanta had been made. Intoxi
cated with victory, onward swept these
hosts to Savannah to the sea. Some
thousands of federal troops had been
turned back to battle with the brave and
reckless Hood and his heroic band, as
with luckless valor they assaulted stra
getic northern bases of supplies,and,bare
footed and starving, were now menacing
the city of Nashville.
Another wild November night had
come. Train-loads of northern troops,
chiefly of field artillery commands, had
been summoned to the beleagured city
from Chattanooga. Here horses, guns,
caissons, limbers, artificer's wagons and
all, were packed roof high in the scant
freight cars ready for being hurried for
ward. The inexorable order to the half
dad, half-fed. march-exhausted men had
been: “Hide on the car roofs—or fall
off!" Standing knee deep in the freezing
mud, beaten and stung by a bitter storm
of snow and sleet, both officers and men
were in a savage mood almost of ferocity
and mutiny.
War takes no heed of breaking hearts;
and Richard Hull's was one. Hnlf frozen,
desolate, desperate, he tramped his
guardsman's beat beside the laden train
until the signal for its departure. That
very hour Jeff Dean, a soldier in the
Massachusetts Thirty-ninth, had shown
hini a letter from 'Squire Slater It had
gradually, but still surely, said that when
Dick Hull’s mother and sister were dead,
and Maple Hill sold for debt, and in the
hands of strangers, doubtless Dick Hull
would never care to see Maple Valley
again.
There are moments in lives when the
human soul first knows the awful prison-
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JANUARY 14. 1894.
ment of utter loneliness and despair
Such a one was this to the boy-soldier
there. But in this very moment came
that infinite saving consciousness of the
human peril of others. A thousand ref
ugees, ground between the teeth iof war
and the victims of the soul-sickeiving in
dignities were huddled in and about the
railway station. A man and a woman
crept shiveringly to these to where
Dick tramped his beat. They begged
of him piteously the merciful privilege
of passage towards the North and
their friends on that train. Something
in the .woman’s manner, the man’s
voice, and even in their skulkiDg ways,
swept a host of tender recollections upon
the soldier's memory. He knew where
there were two grim old cannon in the
very car he was guarding. Under these
was a bit of spare room on which he
himself had set store. But there are
greater heroisms than on the field •of
battle. In there among the blackened
howitzers, at the risk of court-martial,
the refugees were smuggled, and a fortt
cation of tarpaulins, water buckets and
camp kettles built about them, fending
them to friends and safety; while Rich
ard Hull, with numbing Iltnbs and burst
ing heart, upon the icy car roof, tike a
soldier true did battle with th* Bight
and storm.
IV.
SPNTHN’ HAPPENS.
Another ten years had come and gone.
The sweet sunshine was flooding into
Maple valley, back there among the now
verdure-softened New England hills. It
was an early morning in May, and but a
few sounds broke the stillness of the
great gipsy camp in the grove alongside
the highway on Maple Hill farm. The
birds above, and a rollicking old tinker,
Zeb Boswell, among the handsome wagrms
and hooded tents below, were haring
all to themselves the glory of the opening
day.
Soon tinker Zeb bellowed out in hearty
song the refrain of an old Yorkshire
gipsy ballad, when as If by magic every
member of the drowsy camp Seemed
astir. Smothered voices in the close
hooded tents took up the melody. Grin
ning heads, musical as the morning, pro
truded from snug wagon-covers. Half
dressed Gipsies came into sight every
where. As if possessed by some swift
and unaccountable spirit of mirthful mis
chief, all seemed ready for frolic. The
tinker repeated the refrain. More and
more voices joined. Zeb looked up from
his mending knowingly, conscious of the
ballad’s power upon his fellows, and,
after briskly patting some dogs which
had bounded to his side as if they too
knew the merriment in store, began the
roaring song of
its ”cbee: chee!” when the bobbies con.
On tbe drom (rood! there’s much that Is try
ing;
Make dickering do for thy buying;
Be as wise as an owl.
But if bobbies should prowl.
J ust give them a lesson in iking! V
Look them square In the yak (eye).
If they warn ye!
Hlt them plump in the nak (nose),
V they scorn ye!
For Its “chee! chee!” when the bobbies
come;
Then Its 'chee! chee!”—When the bobbles
oome
Far better be lying than crying!
On the drom there's much that Is.trylng;
Listen soft! when the grye (horse) la a-sby
ing;
When the dugal (dog) lies low;
Gel behind the hedge-row;
For then the sly bournes are prylagl
Look them square in the yak,
For thy raunlc (wife);
Hit them plump In the nek—
Have thy cauhle (hen. fowl) r
For Its chee: chpc!” when the hobbles name;
Then its 'bhee! chee!”—Whan she sdkbtes
come
Gradually morlng to the omlsr of the
camp from all dlrottions, glili eionog,
came the Gypsies; every fa**, from spae
wlfe to ' hpsvlix aglow wish the to ibeji
irrepressible htfebrof the aetog. ■Seine rtf
the men sang m woaderfttl bqrtjpqe, ana
powerful ban voices were A*sM. Tie
women awd ofitlitvnn carried th* soprano
rich, hearty, aloqaeat; and mawy an old
snd toothless woman, Lifting Her tones to
a thrilling falsetto, sang clear and true
above all the rest.
How they sEng. though! It was as if
one voice and spirit were bent on reveal
ing the whole strange, weird, drama of
the tent and the road. The melody, too,
was almost lyric in its fitness to the brave
situations disclosed ; the whole conclud
ing with the marvelously rollicking and
vociferous refrain:
"Par better be lying than crying!—"
immediately upon which the entire bid
indulged in a glorious frolic, wherein
many an old dame found himself carried
above stout gypsy heads to the covered
wagons to complete her toilet, and tinker
Zeb himself wit. many a time tent mer
rily to grass, finally being teased over the
fence into a young haisi copse for raising
the acceptable disturbance)
Tinker Zeb, recovering his brenth
while still laughing uproarously, had Just
parted tha hazel branches with his hand
preparatory to returning to camp by way
of the open farm-lot ana road, when his
eyes met a pitiful sight. An old woman
lay prostrate among the .dew-wet graves
a few rods distant, her white face pressed
close to a narrow mound of earth, and his
thin arms clasped tightly around the lit
tle weed-stained stone at its head.
A few bounds like those of some ponder
ous animal brought Zeb beside her. He
peered sharly in her face, placed his ear
upon her breast, and then bellowed out,
“Everlastin’ hammers and tongs! W’at
hever's th' matter wi Grandma ’Unll!"
He lifted her in his arms and carried
her into eamt> as lightly as though she
had been an infant; with a few quick
words in Romany to his companions he
left her tenderly nursed by the women in
Chief Stanley's tent: and hurrying away
in a few minutes had returned with
Mary Hull, who, ghostly white but with
something of the calm of her mother's
early days in her quiet eyes, set straight
about reviving the broken old life; while
Jane and Josh, trembling in feeble help
lessness and terror, soon crouched and
moaned beside the hopeless pair.
Then these strange gypsy folk, marvel
ous in their cunning as in their boundless
compassion, drew from Mary and Josh
the whole sad tale; of the soldier-lad
who had suddenly stopped writing to
his mother, and had never returned,
though the ever and never-despair
ing mother-heart refused to believe him
dead ;of debt growing to obligation and
it in turn to incumbrance, which swal
lowed even the life-time savings of loyal
Jane and Josh, leaving them weakly
staring at the poor-house door as at an
open grave, and which was to take Maple
Hill farm forever from Grandma Hull
this very day ; and, finally, of the one re
entlesshand that had swept hope and
leace from this wrecked victim of
pr own goad deeds, and ripened the
hen of a defenseless home; when poor
rui Josh in an agony of helplessness piped
old:
“Its all the doin's—cuss him!—of old
out 1 —”
Sila'sSlater!”
The whole camp hissed the name with
lowering brows that told of gipsy dread
and hate.
As if the Old One is ever ready at call,
at this moment a smart open buggy, in
which sat two men—one a weazened old
man, with a frowsy white head, dropped
almost out of sight between thin, poaked
shoulders; the other, a hard-faced, offi
cious fellow of perhaps forty, the village
constable—was driven from the highway
into the fedge of the camp. The younger
man bawled out blusteringly:
“ 'Squire Slater here owns this ranch
arter noon to-day. You fellers kin hev'
Jess twenty-four hours to mosey outer
this! D'ye here!”
"I'll Jail ev'ry one if they don’t. Tell
’em that, Jeff Tell 'em, too," shrieked
the old wretch, with a savage gesture of
his shriveled hand towards Maple Hill
farmhouse, "that old fool goes, too. She's
run her>.rope. Can’t git another dollar,
can she, Jeff?”
“Not a darned red cent. You feilers
batter hustle now!” And with this the
Srecioua pair drove rapidly away towards
lilltown, the county seat, twelve miles
distant. ■
There’were quick movements about the
camp, but not of preparation for hasty
flight Lew and rapid consultations by
were held. In'onegrbup the clinking of
gold could be softly heard. The name of
a certain Mllltown lawyer was more than
once spoken under their breaths Three
of the best horses were saddled, and
shortly three huge gipsies. Chief Stanley,
Elias Wharton, whose wife seemed to
be earnestly urging him on. and kindly
Zeb Boswell, were upon there backs,
skimming like swallows along the pleas
ant highway in the direction the ’Squire
and constable had taken. They soon
overtook the conveyance, and as they
passed it. Chief Stanley said almost apol
ogetically to the ’Squire and his compan
ion :
“Hus be jess ridin'up to Milltown. for
summit as we needs afore breakin'
camp.”
“All right, Gip,” returned Jeff, surlly.
“Mosey’long. Quicker ye git back an'
? it out the better!” and with a respect
ul “Thankee, sirs” from all, the three
increased their speed and had soon pUced
miles between themselves and the Maple
Valley representatives of the law.
The sun had scarcely turned the shad
ows of the great maple trees from west
to east across the perturbed camp, when
two well favored men of perhaps 30 years
of age strolled into the little grove from
tjhe old highway which leads from the
city of Boston to the grand New England
hills. The face of one, who carried a
portfolio, was full of eager interest as he
surveyed the picturesque scene. His
companion was a young New York au
thor. His writings upon the Romany
race were already making him famous.
He had brought his artist friend, Joe
Beale, from Philadelphia to this out-of
the-way New England nook to assist him
in securing additional illustrations for his
now volume, “With an Ancient Race"
For a famous and prosperous man there
was a strange sadness in his face and
huskiness in his voice as he conversed
with his artist friend, and now and then
peering through the maples towards the
gray old farm house on the hill, or, closer
still, over upon the huddled graves be
yond the hazel copse.
They came along together, the artist
already Impatiently fumbling at his
sketch book, and the author patting this
dog, that chauvie, or another racklie,
upoh the head or nodding fateiliarly to
one or another of the lads or men. until
close oeside Chief Stanley's tent,when he
said pleasantly in their own language to
the group still lingering there:
•‘ls your rom (chief) about the camp?
lam known to many of vour people as
the gorgiochal (the non-Gipsy Gipsies'
friend). I have brought a friend with
me, and we would like to remain here a
little.”
In the words of gipsy welcome that in
stantly came and the scurrying of gipsy
feet to do him honor, a sudden commo
tion was heard within the tent. It was
Jane Tooker, who first screeched out:
“Lord, I know’d sunthn’ 'd happen!”
“I’ll be gol danged to all ’tamity!”
piped Josh.
“Its him ! Mary !—lts him!—Dick! I’d
know my boy’s voice in heav'n!” shrieked
Grandma HuU, staggering from the tent
and desperately clutching the stranger.
“Brother!—brother!” gasped Mary
Hull, springing after her mother into the
arms of Richard Hull, who stood there
deathly pale and speechless as these, to
him, apparitions from the very grave
olung ecstatically about him.
“Hold tlie gaug right there!” shouted
Joe Beale, working furiously upon his
sketch book, not Comprehending the sig
nificance Of the Beane, but filled with an
artist's enthusiasm. “Just a minute more!
Great Scott! Dick Hull, if I can catch
that grouping, it’Mhe worth 11.0001”
-“lzßft ’lift in Brit-’ltn in a fitl”
yelled Zeb Boswell, wildly waving a paper
above tits shaggy head, pe he and his
companions dashed into itoip apd leaped
from their panting horses with whoops of
hilarious triumph. “’Ere, ’ere, Grandma
'Ull! .hire's the morgige—clean o’ Si
Slater as your poor ol’ ’art from mean
ness. Maple ’lll’s yourn agin, an’ hus
Gipsies doan’t mosey—l”
The sentence was not completed, for
handsome Helen Wharton, grabbing tin
ker Zeb and her grinning husband, while
laughing, crying and gasping out, “The
soldier that saved hus!” jerked her raven
head violently in explanation and dragged
the two men to Dick and those who
bound him in love’s embrace, where the
trio beset him with incoherent thanks
and blessings; Zeb somehow getting out
side the whirl wind of emotion long enough
to bellow, “Everiastin' hammers an’
tonga !—but ’ere is a go—!”
‘For its “Chee: Chee!” when the bobbies
come!—' ”
whereupon the wildly jubilant camp, giv
ing full sway to the delirious influence of
ballad and victory, sang as mortals never
sang before.
And when the stars shone out that
night upon Maple Valley, their gentle
rays fell upon a happy farm-house home,
a happy sleeping roadside camp, and a
peaceful village there below; for the hand
of Hate was stilled.
WOULD HIRE WOMEN.
Mr. Stead, the London Editor, on His
Proposed Newspaper.
From the Chicago Record.
William T. Stead, editor of the Reivew
of Reviews, London, is in Chicago. He
arrived recently, accompanied by one of
his sons, and is stopping at the Audit
orium Annex. It was as editor of the
Pall Mall Gazette that Mr. Stead brought
himself conspicuously before the English
speaking world. He made personal in
vestigation into some of the social iniqui
ties of London, and printed the results of
his discoveries in the Gazette. At present
Mr. Stead is deeply immersed in anew
enterprise, which promises to be an inno
vation in the history of journalism.
He proposes to establish a daily paper
in London different from anything yet un
dertaken. In form, the publication will be
modeled something after the magazine
style, and is to consist of forty pages.
WILL PUBLISH THE SEWS.
"It will resemble American newspapers
only in that we propose to rush about
and get the freshest news and print it as
it occurs,” explained Mr. Stead. “We
will not wait two or three days after a
thing occurs before we get around to
print it. But it is to be compact and
neat, as your papers are bulky and un
wieldy. There will be no knocking over
the salt at the breakfast table or punch
ing your next neighbor in the ribs on the
street cars as you try to turn the leaves
of your morning paper. It will contain
advertising of course, for advertising
there must always be, but what is now
spread over a whole page witl be put into
a few artistic strokes more pleasing to
the eye and more easily grasped by the
mental vision. I am not going to have a
man on the paper unless I cannot, find
women to fill the places. 1 suppose it
will end by my having about as many
men as women. I think it ought to be
that way," he continued, “but I certainly
shall give the women a chance. They
have never had a fair chance in this
world, you know. All this talk about
chivalry to women on the part of men is
mere bosh. There never was a thing so
degrading or so low that women were not
allowed to do it. provided the pay was so
small that some men did not care for it.
WOMEN IN JOURNALISM.
"Women should be treated iu reference
to men Just as race horses. A few
pounds are allowed the filly for sex. But
in actual iife quite the contrary is expect
ed. The so-called weaker vessel is al
lowed to bear the burdens. In journalism
I believe that there are very few things
that a woman is not fitted to undertake,
and for the few there is the least num
ber of things in which she is calculated
to excel a man that the balance is more
than even in her favor.”
A troop of soldiers, with beating drums,
came marching down Michigan avenue.
They were returning from Mayor Harri
son's funeral. Mr. Stead looked thought
fully out of the window. “Sad,” he said,
“and yet that very act has immortalized
Carter Harrison. It is one of the risks
that any man runs who becomes much
spoken of. But the risk is 'not so great
as many suppose It is only one here and
there that is made a target of.
NEW YORK LIKE ST. PETERSBURG
“What do I think of America ! When I
arrived in New York I felt as if I had
seen the place before; there was a fa
miliarity in the streets, in the appearance
of the people, in the tramways and the
pavements. I tried to locate it. Surely
I had never been in America before. Rus
sia- ah. there it was; such a counterpart
of St. Petersburg, so much alike in the
pink and opal atmosphere, the frosty
sunshine air, the people, the streets, the
traffic. I even looked about me in the
restaurants in surprise in not hearing the
Russian language spoken. The parallel
was even kept up on the way to Chicago.
We passed through a flat, rolling country,
whose houses were of frame, whose woods
were full of ruts, with the wagons now
on one side and then on the other, and no
good roadway save when frozen in winter,
and the cattle were scrawny like those in
Russia. There were not the houses of
stone, and the smooth, well-kept roads of
England and the continental Europe. It
was Russia over again, with the houses of
wood and level country.”
“Does the comparison keep up in Chi
cago?”
“I have only been here thirty hours,
and all I have seen of Chicago was a
three hours’ perambulating of its crowded
streets this morning. I found your people
disposed to butt one out of the way with
something like the rush of a rain. I was
much interested in studying your people
as they gathered along the sidewalks,
waiting on the funeral cortege. It was a
decidedly English crowd. I saw few of
the foreigners that are said to make up
much of vour population. I heard little
Irish accent and no Scotch. I was sur
prised in hearing your negro people using
such good English, with but little Afri
can accent. The homage to your dead
mayor was remarkable, but what struck
me as so different from England was
that along the route of the prooession
there was so little visible sign of mourn
ing.
ARTISTIC EFFECTS OF THE EXPOSITION.
“Do you know how I shall judge the ar
tistic effect of the exposition upon the
people of this country?” said Mr. Stead.
“Let me tell you. I will come here in
twelve months and ask one question.
Have you hanged or burned in the public
squares the fellow who makes Puffer’s
little liver pills and Pluff’s sarsaparilla?’
Curious question, ain’t it! But I went
up the Hudson river the other day.
Everywhere the artisSJc effect of some
great overhangiiiir crag was marred by
the lurid advice, -For that tired feeling
take Bluff’s sarsaparilla, 100 doses $1 '
I came to Chicago. On barns and fences
liver pills and sarsaparilla stare at roe
through the car windows. I sit here in
my window, looking at that lake, and I
get a shiver, for there on that old build
ing beyond those cars Puff is telling me
in ten-foot, fiery-colored letters that his
'sarsaparilla is the best.' The other fel
low will probably put up his‘tlred-feHing’
sign out on that breakwater beyond.
“If you Americans don’t draw and
quarter these fellows without benefit of
clergy' the artistic efTect of the art expo
sition will get no farther than those mag
nificent buildings. Recently tbe livar-pul
man has got hold in England, and as one
journeys to Stratford-on-Avon preparing
his mind with the associations ot Shake
speare’s home there in the meadaws near
the bard's home the little liver pill is ex
tolled in an acre sign. Why, I'd sooner
die of dyspepsia than to be cured by that
ellow's stuff.”
MASTICATION BY MACHINERY.
Metallic Jaws, Worked With a
Spring, a Late Triumph of Surgery.
From the New York World.
It looks as though a happy day of eman
cipation was approaching for that unfor
tunate class of invalids whose distinguish
ing mark is a vigor-like hood and chin
rest of leather. They are victims of sar
coma. a cancer which fastens its malig
nant roots to the jaw of the sufferer and
yields only when removed, hone ana all,
by the surgeon's knife Wnat has ren
dered this operation particularly distress
ing was the hideous and lasting disfigure
ment which it entailed. Onee the knife
had cut away half of the lower jaw, the
unfortunate victim bade farewell to solid
food for all time to come. Mastication
was impossible, and the remaining half
of the jaw could be held in place only
by a grewsome harness hooding the head
and bracing the cleft chin. Dr. Charles
Mcßurney and Surgeon Dentist West
lake, of New York, with a remarkably
ingenious! yet simple mechanical inven
tion, have changed all this, and unfortu
nates minus half a lower jaw can now
bo readily rehabilitated, with the powers
of mastication retained, as well as with
all the outward semblance of health and
anatomical completeness. This was ex
perimentally determined in a quiet way
one year ago, when a Mrs. Kiddoo, of Sa
vannah. Ga.. submitted to an operation
by Dr. Mcßurney. Half of the lower jaw
was removed and Dr. Westlake’s appli
ance was substituted. It was a remark
ably successful experiment, and without
disfiguring hood or externally applied
support of any kind, Mrs. Kiddo has been
living and eating as though nature’s
equipment had not been curtailed in the
least degree.
The appliance destined to save sufferers
from the disfiguring hood and its accom
panying necessity of liquid food is sim
plicity itself. After the bone is removed
the patient’s lower jaw, or what remains
of it, is fastened firmly in proper position
by moans of a metal plate, which holds
it firmly to the upper jaw. This is to
prevent the distending of muscles, which
would naturally follow an operation.
During the two weeks which this plate
remains in undisturbed position the pa
tient is fed through a small aperture
placed at the center of the mouth. When
the plate is removed the teeth in the up
per jaw over the amputated half are
firmly capped with gold. So also are the
teeth ou the lower jaw close to the place
of amputation. This accomplished, it
only remains to connect the gold-capped
upper and lower teeth with a fine but
strong spring and the work is per
fectly done. That delicate spring is
the key to the puzzle which for years has
defied solution. It takes the place of the
amputated bone, holds the half taw in
position and does its full share in the
work of mastication. So much depends
upon this spring that a surprisingly
delicate test is employed in determining
its proper strength. The aim is to have
it conform in this particular to the mus-'
cular power of the remaining half Jaw.
To properly determine this delicate
ligatures of silk are first fastened to the
patient’s teeth, upper and lower. The
free ends of these threads are coiled
around an exceedingly sensitive scale and
the patient is ordered to move his re
maining jaw in all directions. Registered
on the scale are the degrees of force ex
erted. and this record is used as a guide
in fixing the strength of the all-important
spring.
Mrs. Smith—Tommy, you're battered to
nieces! Id like to know what excuse you
have this time. You've certainly been in a
light.
Tommy—Mamma, there was a fight, but I
nan truthfully say I wasn't in it.—Truth.
NOVELTY IRON WORKS.
Ljgwagggß Novelty Iron Works,
and Brass Founders and
machinists. Blacksmiths A Boilermakers.
THE SAMSON IUCAR MILLS AND PANs
DEALERS IN *
STEAM ENGINES, INJECTORS, STEAM AND WATER FITTING*
CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED—ESTIMATES GIVEN.
Nm. 1* 4 and 6 Bay and I, 2,3, 4, 5 and O Rlvar tee*
— SHWHNISHH. OR. v~*
MACHINERY, CASTINGS. ETC. ~
KEHOE’sHl^^
IRON AND BRASS FOUNDERS. MACHINISTS, BLACKSMITHS AND BOILERMaK
ERS, ENGINEB, BOILERS aWD MACHINERY, SHAFTING, PtjLLEYS, ETC.
Bpeial attsntion to Itepair Work. > EriimMes promptly lurniihed. Broughton ttrtt
(rom ReyaoMt to Randolph itrottt. Tolephon* 268.
HOTEL PONCE DE LEO?C
ST. AUCUSTINE, FLA.,
Opens its SEVENTH SEASON, Jan. 10,1894.
O. D. SEAVEY, Mkosssf
HOTEL CORDOVA NOW OPEN.
SHOES.
~~ £,
An Airy
Costume,
But one that cannot be worn at all times.
Baby must have clothes—Shoes too—es
pecially Shoes.
Queer how tbe little feet do wear out
leather. Can’t be helped, though. Only
thing to do is to buy good leather at low
prices.
The best plaoe to do that is at
THE LITTLE STORE ABOUND THE
CORNER.
BUTLER 8 KORRIS6EY,
120 BROUGHTON STREET.
HAKOWAHfc.
HARDWARE,
S&r, Band and Hoop Iron,
WAGON IMATfcftlM.,
Navaf Stores SuDDfies.
FOR SALE BY—-
EDWARD LOVELL’S SONS
166 Broughton and 138-140 State Sts.
The Steamer Alpha,
E. F. DANIELS, Master,
On snd after SUNDAY, Oct. 18, will
change her Schedule as follows:
Leave Savannah. Tuesday Bam
Leave Beaufort. Wednesday Bam
Leave Savannah, Thursday 11 a m
Leave Beaufort, Friday Bam
Tbs steamer will step at Bluffton on both
trips each way.
For further information apply to
C. H. MED LOCK, Agent.
RUST PROOF OATS
FOR SEED.
A LARGE lot of Georgia raised Rust Proof
Oats. Also s lot of choice Texas Oats
on hand and for sale In lots to suit purchasere
These oats are exceptionally line, and It will
be to your advantage to call and examine be
fore making your purchases elsewhere
X. J. DAVIS,
Grain Dealer and Seedsman,
Telephone 223. 156 Bay street
Send Your Orders for
LITHOGRAPHING,
PRINTING and
BLANK BOOKS
TO THE
MORNING NEWS,
Savannah, Ga.
IF you want good material and work, order
your lithographed sad printed stationsrf
snd blank books from Morning News, Savan
nah. Ga.
KNOWS POKER A: WELL AS LAW.
A Minneapolis Judge Whose Accom
plishments Are Varied.
From the Chicago Herald.
Minneapolis, Jan. 6.—A Judge on the
district court bench yesterday demon
strated what he knew about poker. Tho
business methods of A. E. Horton, the
big furniture dealer who made a sky
rocket failure here a month ago, were
looked into. It developed that he had
been playing cards pretty recklessly, and
a story of how he went against a sure
thing and lost $2,500 at one sitting
cropped out. He was introduced by one
George Allen to a stranger at the Mer
chants' Hotel, St. Paul. Allen got out of
the game and was to signal to Horton
what cards the stranger held. Finally
Horton caught a bobtail flush. Allen
signalled that the stranger only had a
small pair, whereupon Horton drew but
one card and proceeded to bluff The
stranger raised him back and in a short
time bills amounting to $6,000 were piled
up. When the show-down came Horton
had nothing and the stranger had a small
pair.
FLOUR.
Aist®
SPECIALITY
Dr. BrofflS
SPECIALIST,
Has passed the experimental stage, and i|
now acting with lull knowledge of what h<
can do. His straightforward Jourae haareo
ommended him to the public mid file marvel<
ous success In the treatment of the most dell
cate diseases which are peculiar to men dhf
women and are private In their nature, has
made him a reputatlott as a true speelattet 8#
ill
meat hi
va t e, s krbi
blood anj
call at his of
flee write to him and he will send you symp
tom blank No 1 for men: No. 2 for women; No.
3 for skin diseases, from which your case can
be properly understood. If possible call al
his office. Consultation costs you nothing
and terms of traatment are within reach o|
all. Address or oall on
DR. BROADFOOT,
136 Broughton St., Savannah. Ga.
Hours—9 to 12, 2to 5, and 7to 9. Sundays.
10 to 1.
RAILROADS.
c|lm
SCHEDULE FOR
isieoi Hope, lonigomeryorid mi tray Stations
SUNDAY TIME.
CARS RUN AS FOLLOWS:
Leave Bolton street 9:07 a. m.: leave Isle of
Hope 8:17 a. m.; leave Bay street 10, 11 a. m ,
12 noon, 1,2, 3,4, 5,6, 7 and Bp. m.. running
direct from Bay street to Isle of Hope, and
connecting with the steam cars at Sandfly.
Leave isle of Hope 11:15 a. m., 12:15,1:16,
2:15, 3:15, 4:15, 5:15,6:15, 7:15, 8:15 and 9p. m.
Cars from Thunderbolt to Isle of Hope every
hour after 2:00 p. m. until 8 P- m.
Leave Isle of Hope for Thunderbolt at 2:30
and hourly afterwards until 8:30 p. m.
CITY AND SUBURBAN R’Y CO.
F. E. Laughton, Supt
■ ■ II I I ~T
FINE LINE OE
IS - FIXTURES - AND- DIODES
AT
L. 51. MCCARTHY’S
46 DRAYTON STREET.
"VOU want stationery and blank hooka.
A have the facilities for supplying tneo.
Send your orders to Morning News
nah. (Ja. Lithographers, book and Jab P*™*
ers and blank book manufacturer*.
“By the way, Mr. Horton,” interrupted
creditor’s counsel at this point, "whictt
hand wins in poker?”
"The best one, of course,” was the dis
gusted answer.
"Not always,” chuckled Judge Smith,
and a prolonged laugh pissed around-tns
room.
"You admit, then, Mr. Horton, know
ing you had nothing, and from Mr. Al
len’s pretty system of silent telegraph!,
that this gilded stranger had a small pair
and you ran up the stake to $2,500?”
“Yes, sir.” ,
“Well, now, wasn’t that a very unusual
proceeding?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” broke in Judge
Smith, with the air of a man full of
formation on the subject under disr' l *'
sion. “I suppose the witness argued tna
having bet several hundred dollars at tn
start, it was his purpose to bluff
stranger out, because, you see, Horw“
drew only- one card, while the other ma
drew two, and all he had was sevens.
John Walters, who lives in the suburbs
Baltimore, is 96 years old. but is still an
pert shot. He Is very fond of gunning
frequently walks a dozen miles a dX
enjoying the sport.