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Haney Wiggins.
THE SMART COUNTRY GIRL
A Story of the North Georgia Mountains.
BY W. A TOE.
CHAPTER III.
As ■was the understanding between onr hero
ine and her mother, Nancy remained with her
cousin until noon tne following day. It was
late in the alternocn when she arrived at home
where her mother anxiously awaited her return.
‘My sakes,’ said she, ‘how you do look arter
your nights frolic, I kin call to mind them days
when I used to tend frolics, next day I had the
al'-overs, and wejnt no covmt for a week arter-
wards. Come in child, atm take a bite thar's
nothing like healthy victuals to make a body
feel better arter a frolic.’
'I am sorter hungry mother, though I reckon
I feel mighty*nigh as well as I did yesterday.’
‘Nancy ! child,’ replied Mrs. Wiggins with as
tonishment,, what put hit in your bead to call
me by this new fangled name, I haint no stuck
up body, but I do say our foiks was as proper
as any as ever sot foot in these parts, I always
called mammy, mammy and dad, dad. Taint
no high souuding word, but hit peers to me I
like hit much batter than this fancy name given
thar parents by them who thinks they is quality.
It sounds kinder cold to me to say mother.’
‘I haint none of them quality toiks and Idont
hanker to be like them so powerfully, but I do
say they talk a sight batter than weans, ana
cause we live shot up in these mountains taint
no reason why weuns shouldn t try to mend
our ways, and hit does kinder sound better to
say mother than mammy.’
•Call me what you will Nancy, and yet hits
like giving up something thats been loved way
back yonder when we fust larned how to talk.
Why thar haint no sweeter word than mammy
cording to my liking. Do tell Nancy what put
hit into your head to call me mother.’
Nancy was somewhat chagrined at her
mother’s words. The expression of Henry
Crawford continually traversed her mind, ‘your
manner of speech is so peculiar I really could
not retain wy composure.' This phrase awak-
' ened a desire not before aroused. ‘I will learn,
she resolved, ‘and be as the} - are.’ Her resolu
tion caused much apprehension, mingled with
pain—apprehension, tearing that tnose who had
known her from infancy would deride at her, as
one of their sect appearing atter the ‘quality
folks.’ Like her mother, fond memories clus
ter around the dear old name ‘mammy a name
sacred with time, as old as memory.
Do not censure stern reader, the weakness ot
our heroine, like all humanity she possessed
human fraility, human pride. The powerful
weapon sarcasm had been used awakening a
feeling of inferiority never acknowledged beiore,
arousing a desire to shield herself troin like
ridicule and contempt.
‘Peers to me Nancy, (said her mother after
remaining silent expecting an answer for many
moments) ‘that you haiu t got no reason for
changing my name, it you has you non t want
to tell. I reckon these quality folks at the
Squire’s been snubbing you, haint they child i
•No mother they «ida't, for they haint had no
chance, cepting the young lady did kinder laugh
when Mrs. Squire Crawfird called my name.’
‘Why haint your name as good as theirn ? ’
‘Mother I haint caring about her laughing.
She dresses mighty fine, but I've seen many a
gandy bird that wernt no use cepting to look at.
I reckon howsoever we do peer a queer lotto
them, being they has a powetful sight of edeea-
tion, I do like thar way of talking bettern
our’ns, and as soon as I git the chance ‘1 m
gwine to learn.’
‘I do say if your gwine to this frolic has'nt
put lots cf new idees id your head - Here you
have been living contented and happy all your
life, following the ways of the people, and now
all of a sudden you wants to git above your
people and he like these quality. Let me tell
you Nancy the sooner you git these high no
tions outer’n your head, the better for you,
becase you baint made for no fine lady. Thar
never was one of them high-fiyers in the Wig
gins family and I never wants to see none of
them thar, we works for our bread and thanks
Clod for giving hit to us. Hit these not ojs
outern your head Nancy;they haint gwine to do
yon no good.’
This positive language apparently harsh,
grated upon the feelings of the young girl.
Overcome by contending emotions, tears filled
her beautiful, candid eyes.
‘Mother, said she ‘I dont want you to think I
am proud or stuck up. I haint going to consider
myself any ways better than our neighbors,
cause 1 wants to learn, and he like these city
folks, taint do reason I'm gwine to be unmind
ful of all thar kindness, and if I do git learning
twont make me love you no less.’
‘Dry them eyes Nancy, you knows you is all
I'v got to love in this world. W T e wont say no
more bout this; you follow your own heart
my child and God grant you may git happi
ness.’
She said this folding her daughter in her
arms.
This conversation was engaged in while Nan
cy was eating supper atter attending to the many
household duties. She soon after bade her
mother good night and retired to her room,
The events of the twenty four hours past, were
such as awakened painful redactions. For the
first time she had opposed her mother’s wishes.
True she had not positively forbidden her not to
pursue the course new and of recent contempla
tion, yet her words of warning clearly indicated
that her desire was that her daughter should
cast aside this ambition. With such reveries
Nancy felt little desire for the rest her bodily
fatigue demanded. At length however nature
demanded relaxation, and sleep, that great
restorer and tranquilizer, rested upon her
eyes.
During the afternoon of the second day after
the entertainment at ‘Squire Crawford’s, while
Nancy was carding rolls of snowy cotton that
her deft hands would soon fashion into thread
at the old fashioned spinning wheel, her mother
came in hurriedly, exclaiming. ‘Run Nancy
and fix up.loi if I haint blind 1 see them young
quality foiks from the Squires ccming this way.
My sakes! how that young girl is fixed up, I
haint seen the like since I came to these parts,
she looks like them folks in the pictar books, or
I haint no judge of things I see’s.’
Nancy obseived from the window Miss St.
Clare and Henry Crawford approaching.
Her mother’s criticism was not extravagant.
Miss St Clare appeared most attractive, her well
fitting riding-habit and graceful attitude as she
poised her sylph-like lorm upon her spirited
horse presented a picture worthy ot admiration.
She was laughing and saying to her young es-
C °‘Well, you are here at last—at the home of
your mountain beauty. Be on your guard, Sir,
playfully shaking her riding-whip athl “’ r ®7
member you owe allegience to a young Y ,
my acquaintance. HI bite my lips till the blood
comes trying to keep from laughing at her
uns’ and ‘you-nns,’ I’ll set it down to your ac-
C °He t iaughed a little in turn, but said gravely,
as he helped her to dismount: ... t
‘I trust, Agnes, that you will do nothing «to
hurt the feelings of these people. I am going
to try to make amends for rud th^nkes
‘Well well! I’m powerful glad to see the likes
[ you at my poor house; how do you do Miss
St Clare, and you Mr. Crawford, We don’t want
no introduction to each other; mv Nancy knows
who you be and wiil be powerful glad to see
you. Como right in. Nancy was kinder took
back by your coming unbeknownst to her; how-
somever, she haint goin’ to keep you waiting no
long time. Sh«’s mighty peart in fixing up. Ret
right down; don’t stand on no ceremony. We
uns is plain folks in these parts, and don’t set
eyes on you quality folks every day. Jest make
yourselves at home, I’ll be back shortly.’
So said Mrs. Wiggins as she led the way to
the reception room, and then, ducking a little
curtesy, disappeared.
‘Arter your long ride I calculate you-nns
wouldn't mind taking a bite,'said she. returning
in a moment, bearing a waiter with cite and
wine upon it. ‘This cake didn’t rise like hit
orter. I calculate Nancy was rather slack in
working the dough, howsomever. I’ve seen worse
cake than hit ar, if I do say it. You haint drunk
no better wine than this ere, if I did make hit.
Do take some, Miss; thar haint nothin’ in hit to
hurt, nothin but the clear juice of the black
berry with a leetle sugar. I never jined the
| temperance folks, because it ’pears to me that
| them that jine haint no better than them that
; don't. Thar was Giles Wilkins, he was the
powerfnlest drunkard I ever seed. Them tern-
perancers got holt of him, and kinder circum
navigated round and about till they got him to
take the pledge, fc Giles was the most booklarned
young man in these pirts, them days. Borne
folks did say he could read a sight better than
Deacon Brown. But that haint got nothing to
do with Giles and the temperance pledge. Well,
Giles stuck out three days; howsomever, on the
third day, old Airs. Lirkin, his grandmauimy
on his mammy’s side, was put under ground.
Giles went to the funeral drunker than a rabbit
in a collard patch. Them temperaneers said,
‘If hit hadn't been fer the excitement caused bv
the old lady's death, Giles would a been a tem-
peranc r all his days.”
■Did ihe gentleman die of inebriation ?’ in
quired Miss St Clare gravely, but with a malici
ous twinkle in her eyes.
Airs. Wiggins looked upon her visitor for
many minutes in blank astonishment.
‘I calculate you means, Miss, to ax if Giles
died from too much liquor? I’ll take hit that a-
way and answer ’cordiugly. Hit do ’pear to me
that I have hearu that Giles died ’way up the
country, and hit’s a good calculation to say that
liquor had something to do with sending him
oil', Aly sakes! how my sister, Sillie Jiukins
would laugh to hear you call Giles a gentleman.
She knew Giles sight better n I did, and tliuuk
him a mighty poor sort of a critter. I do say
that when Giles was not liquory he was as prop
er a man as the best of them. How o never, he’s
dead and gone, and I calculate the good Lord
haint gwine to judge him like we-nns do.’
Nancy cauie into the room and greeted the
strangers politely, there was, however, a marked
restraint and diffidence expressed upon her
face as Henry Crawford extended his hand.
Aliss St Ciare acknowledged her sa'utation with
a formal bow.
‘Will you accompany me to the terrace yon
der? I would be delighted to view the sur
rounding country from that elevation.’
Nancy bowed her consent, aDd they arose to
leave the room.
‘Will my society be an intrusion,’ asked Miss
St Clare smiling.
‘Come if you will,’ said Henry Crawford.
‘No, replied the young lady, ‘I will remain
with Mrs. Wiggins. Do not, however, allow the
entrancing prospect to detain you long. Air.
Crawford, or I will be necessitated to interrupt
your tele a tele.'
It was indeed a grand prospect that presented
itself to the beholders on the terrace. As far as
the eye could reren were to oe seen valleys, un
dulatmg plains, capped by the mountain bights.
In the far east the range of the Blue Ridge
mounted upward appearing as if their ether like
blue commingled with the blue vault above.
Unsurpassed w in grandeur, uneq ialed in beauty
is this almost unknown mountain region of
Georgia.
Henry Crawford and his companion remained
sileutly gazing upon the prospect stretched be
fore them. With a mind capable oi' grasping
the abstruce sciences, he had made the study of
nature and nature’s laws a part of his daily
thoughts. Recently graduated at the Slate’s
University, his visit to his uncle was alike one
of pleasure and mental profit.
‘When I look upon these sublime evidences of
creation,’ (bespoke aloud as if in self-commu
nion.) T wonder that men should interpose
their false theories between those unmistakable
evidences of a great, intelligent source from
which all creation emanated.’ Then, observing
the bewildered face ol his companion, he said:
‘Pardon me, lam often alone; I have therefore
acquired the habit of expressing my thoughts
aloud. Hero,’ he continued, ‘is the book I spoke
to you of at my uncles. I trust you may have
as much pleasure in reading it as I did,’ he with
drew the volume from his pocket and gave it to
Nancy.
‘I am afeared,’ she replied, ‘my scant learning
wont low me to understand it.’
•You can, when alone,read this hook and mark
each expression you do not entirely understand
and when I eeme to see you again we will stu
dy it over together. Two heads are better than
one, you know, and we will try if we cannot un
tie the knot between us.’
She knew Do put it thus nicely through kind
ness and smiled frankly in his face as she ex
pressed her willingness to be taught, adding
ingenuously: ‘I kinder think I would be glad it
I could be as book learnt as some.’
•I shall be happy to help you in any way I can.
When I come again, we will fix on some plan.
I should like to teach a pupil so apt as I think
you will prove.’
‘Do you think sure enough I could learn fast ?’
‘I do. I believe you have a superior mind. It
would give me pleasure to see it polished and
well informed.’
‘I should like it first rate if it wouldn’t make
me proud and stuck-up. I couldn’t bear to hurt
the feelings of mother and onr neighbors.’
‘It will not make you proud, you have too
much good sense and too kind a heart. You
wiil be sure to remember that we are all one
great family; and in God s eyes the learned and
the ignorant are alike. AVe will have a long les
son when I cal! in .a day or two. As it is getting
late, I must bid you good-bye."
As they returned to the house, Miss St. Clair
accosted him at the door.
‘It is well for you, Air. Crawford, that you re
turned this moment, for I was in the act of ap
pearing before you to warn you the sun would
soon sink behind the mountains, and tnat our
journey numbered many miles.’
‘I am sorry I have taxed your patience, but I
have been away but a lew minutes. We can make
up the time by a brisk canter.’
They were soon on their way. In silence they
rode some while. Alias St. Ciair was first to speak.
‘I would ask you, Mr. Crawford, why you have
exhibited in manner and words recently, a dis
regard for me ?’
‘What do you mean, Agnes? Where have I
been unmiudfal of my position as your friend
and aunt’s nephew ?’
‘You do Dot care to consider the other relation
existing; perhaps you wish to forget that I am
your affianced wife. If this be your desire, Mr.
Crawford, I will readily release you from this
unpleasant engagement.’
‘Agnes ! I am surprised at your anger. You
will not impugn my motives without giving me
an opportunity to defend myself or remedy the
conduct you complain of.’
She did not reply immediately,
Her beauti
ful eyes drooped with pri and chagrin. At
last she sai 1 vehemently.
‘Do I not see you prefer coarse, ignorant
girl’s society to mine ? What can you see in
this illiterate creature to interest you? She is
coarse in manner and speech. I do wish I had
never made auntie and uncle this visit, I will
not remain to be treated as nobody by these
rude people and their better educated, but more
heartless friends.’
•Agnes, said he interrupting her. ‘Is it kind,
to speak with scorn of this unoffending girl, j
because jon are angry with me ?’
Y am sure I will not grieve to lose the love of
a man who can become infatuated with an igno
rant country girl possessing the euphonious
name of Naricy Wiggins. I wish you joy Mr.
Crawford, and trust your lovely, well-be-loved
country sweetheart may compensate you for
your mi alliance; if she wiil deign to bestow
her hand upon one of tli8 ‘quality lolk,” said
she with bitter scorn.
‘I don’t know what has aroused your anger,
Ac/nes. If you think however that these cruel
words wiil cause me for a moment to think less
of this young lady you arc de rived. If jeal
ousy has taken possession of your heart, iet
me Iatreat you to banish ic before it destroys
your happiness.’
‘I will not have lectures from you Sir; you
may love who you will; I care not.’
■Do not t ilk so Agnes, I beg you will not de
stroy our happiness. 1’es oars, for I believe
you do care for my love. Let not this impulse
of unreasonable, unfounded jealousy, sever our
hearts so neariv united. This is but momentary
anger, you will forget it.’
‘Why do yon, when you know it gives me
pain, show such favor to this young girl ? What
can you see attractive or interesting in her?'
‘l ean assure you Agnes, I consider my aiie-
gience to you sacred. No word or act of mine
will ever cause the least disagreement between
us. I do feel an interest in this frank, inno- |
cent lovely girl. I admire her simplicity, her j
candor and her intelligence.’
‘Intelligence !
‘Yes, she has a bright mind naturally, and, I j
think she would learn with eagerness. Can you
not help her Agnes ? I have promised to bring
her books and give her soma assistance.’
‘Excuse me Rir. Oa absurd ! So you are to
be tubs captivating, refreshingly candid young
girl’s tutor. A dangerous position for so sus
ceptible a young gentleman-’
‘Agnes, this is not the language you should
use to me. Do not allow this anger to possess
yon entirely, cast; this feeling far from you. It
is unworthy of you. I had hoped you had over
come your weakness in this respect.’
With a glance at him full of anger, she rode
on a head.
She had been betrothed to Henry Crawford
two years beiore. With a seltiih passion she
loved him, and when the promptings of jealousy
possessed her, she became a prey to its sting.
As the twilight deepened they reached the home
of ‘Squire Crawford. Tne occurraaces of the
afternoon affecting their spirits with melanchly,
and urging upon Henry the fear that had before
crossed his mind; ‘is this woman, with all her
attractiveness, one whom I can truly respect
and love for life ? Is she not wanting in all
noble and generous traits ?’
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
I of a!! things; all feel tbe heavy oppressive taxi-
tion of the present government; and all join in
curses not loud but very, deep against the rulers
of the country ! One paper, and only one—
probably the Imparcial (for all middle-class
Spain is radical and liberal to the core)—is taken
in far the house (it costs but two farthings) and
passed round from room to room. And so a
warm fellow-feeling is engendered, and, as we
all know from bitter experience, ‘a common
love from common suffering springs.’
Once, lying ill in a middle-class house of the
kind referred to, I asked for two things—the
loan of a little money and a daily paper. *Se-
nor,' raid the lady, ‘do you not know that the
paper is taken in for the house, and that onr
rule ic Spain is that the sick man has it for the j
first spell? Why waste a half penny a day upon j
the Imparcial ?’
This shows another point—Iho exceeding fru- |
gality of the Spanish people—a frugality that
no one would believe, were it not advanced on [
authority like my own. The highest lady in j
the land"will haggle nine hours for threepence,
and burst with witty laughter and sharp repartee
when she enters the drawing-room with the
three offending coppers in he? tiny white
hand.
This frugality is seen in everything. The
traveller wonders why there are so few buffets
in Spain. The answer is, because every Span
iard "and Spanish housewife on their journey
pack and take their own basket of provision,
and so save money. Tbe ministerial organ, the
Correspondence, has at the foot of its political j
news a novel which appears ffi diurnal portions, j
Every pa! erf am'dins gives the paper (it costs two j
farthings) to his daughter, and she tears off. i
for her own and her mother's perusal, the bot
tom part, and hands the remnant to her father
for his journey.
I have said that, dying and in poverty, I asked
for the loan of a little money. The lady said,
‘All lhat you want you shall have; desat ide lis
ted—i. e., ‘Don’t trouble yourself.’ This
struck meat the timeas exceedingly noble; for
I was unknown to her.
The llomimfcic Tropics.
The Romance Explod^d--a Visit to Ja*
maica*
PANISH LADIES.
The Scnorita in the Sick Room.
r cf fVicm tiv what f v ipv..w rt y i /-f f h?.cv‘q •
indolence, and want of prudery among the dark
eyed daughters of Spain, they have soma noble
and endearing qualities. They answer perfectly
the description given by the poet in the well
known lines beginning
'Oh woman in our hours of ease etc.’
Ministering angels they surely are—these little
laughing, humming bird creatures, that seem
only fit to make play with their eyes and t'utir
ankles and their great jeweled fans. A recent
traveler in Spain writes:
In AInrcia, during the tropic and very fear
ful heats of 1875, when in August the tired
field laborers refused to 'work, and those who
essayed to do so died, I was wandering, knap
sack on back, among the lonely villages of Alur-
eia and Valencia. Sunstroke seized me, in a
lonesome pueblo dd campo: I had id my breast-
packet about twenty pounds in gold, ihe gift of
the Times, whose correspondent I then was.
Lying down on a few sacks, in the loft of a
melon-seller's hut, I gave my whole earthly
possessions into the hands of a brown-faced,
black-eyed, untidy-looking Mercian hoyden who
belonged to the house. Two days afterward,
when I essayed to start, at early morning, I
found a jug of milk, and—my purseof money
intact, laid at my pillow-head. I offered a
portion of it, with my grateful thanks.
‘No,’ said the girl, her great black eyes grow
ing lustrous with tears of pity and anger; ‘no,
yon could not take care of yourself; you were
ill, so I and my father and mother took care of
you.’
I could hut press her brown fleshy hands
with my lips, in token of exceeding gratitude,
and resolve evermore to love the people who
could thus nobly treat the poor stranger, with
his foreign tongue, and his knapsack on his
shoulder; who, ill and fainting, sought their
humble hospitality, nor sought it in vain.
I have everywhere noticed, as a trait of the
national character, the exceeding humaD ten
derness of tbe people in cases of illness. I say
human; but surely the human cannot be sepa
rated from the divine, for ancient story and
sacred story tell us that the two were once
joined together, never to be parted. The Span
ish peasant woman may or may not be a skilful
nurse; her one rule—and to me it appears a good
rule—is, ‘Give the patient whatever ho likes,
whatever he asks for.’ Both nurse and doctor
believe that the palate, after all, is the best
guide, and a God-given guide, and one to be,
therefore, trusted. So what you want is given
you, the craving is satisfied, and frequently the
patient cured. AVhi'te they give you what you
crave for, the tender Spanish women bend over
your couch and say loving caressing words as
they kiss your burning forehead, and wet it
with their tears.
Another feature I have observed is the ex
cessive generosity engendered by common suf
fering and the living together under a common
roof. In the Spain of to-day the whole middle
class is now in a state ol suffering; the lady of
gentle birth has fallen in fortune, and the tears
of regret for the past and anxiety for the future
course down her powdered cheeks (violet pow
der is the rule; even your servant powders her
face) as she shows you her file of pawn-tickets.
Her husband died; he was a general in the
army; ho had a pension. Yes, but the pension
was never paid—is never paid; and the poor
lady parts little by little with all the jewelry
that her husband once laid at her tiny feet when
she was a lovely Spanish girl; and all the furni
ture that has been treasured in the family for
twice fifty years. For Spain is the land of heir
looms, and to lose your furniture is to many
like the loss of life itself. ‘What matters it to
me to live; to-day I have sold my locket and my
coffer.’
Both rich and poor live, for the most part, a
gregarious life; there are few villages, and all
flock into the towns. In one house, each room
is occupied by a familly, or by a separate
tenant. All suffer daily from the decadence of
An hour's steaming up a sultry, breathless
bay, where even at that early hour the heat
proved scarcely supportable, landed us along
side the coal-begi-imod wooden quay of King
ston. Gracious heavens, what a disenenant-
ment ! At one glance the eye takes in the
gloomy panorama, and the beautiful tropics
have vanished forever. Not Martinique, not
Brazil, not Ceylon itself, can ever reinstate that
shattered idol. Dead, as hopelessly as the gods
of Nepaul, after the rajah bad blown their
images from the cannon’s mouth; dead, as eter
nally as the great and good Pecksniff after Tom
Pinch had waked up in the organ-loft to a sense
cf his utter meanness and hypocrisy. In three
minutes I am ready to cry aloud, ‘There are no
tropics ! ’ and to hold that negative faith with
unshaken confidence nntil my dying day.
Before my gaze stretches a shabby wooden
town, its long streets running straight inland
from the water,s edge, unpaved, nnwaUr ;d. un
tended, thick in lazy dust, which the 3t a breeze
two hours later will drive with eddyir g whirl
winds against mouth, and nose, and eye.-., in ir
resistible phalanx of penetrating atoms. On
either side the street, low, one-storied wooden
houses line the road; once painted wli;e, with
bright green jalousies, but now dingy gray in
general hue, broken by windows of dull-olive
blinds. The roofs scarcely stick on their
moulding beams, the dirty cedar shingles are
overgrown with rank weeds, and give shelter to
spurious vulture-looking birds—the John-crow
or turkey-buzzard of the colonists—and the
whole town has an air of neglected decay, which
seems ten times more evident through the
blinking, staring sunlight that falls in full force
on every squalid detail. Behind the abodes of
men a brown, treeless plain runs back for many
miles in unshaded hideousness; while in the
far background masses of hot basking moun
tains close the view, their clear-cut peaks shad
owed by no cool or fleecy cloud, but standing
out in naked contour against the blazing sky
overhead. Squalor, dust, sunlight in abun
dance; but no trees, no birds, no flowers, no
scenery—in short, no tropics.
I put up my white umbrella, and landed on
the quay. Ragged, half-clad negroes in tatters
and dust stood along the pathway to the cus
tom-house; I passed my luggage, waiting mean
while under tbe tierce sun; and, when the pep
pery officer had satisfied himself that I did not
wish to cheat the revenue, and had sworn suffi
ciently at his underlings—the climate and the
use of capsicums seem to exert a sort of direct
reactive influence on the human temper in these
Western isles—I turned into the street to seek
my chosen hotel. Drivers with ‘omnibuses’
were near in numbers. I engaged one for my
self and portmanteau, and, leaving my heavy
goods to follow on a rickety dray, betook myself
to Colonial Hall, the leading hostelry of the
metropolis in which I stood.
A Jamacian omnibus is a unique vehicle after
its kind. The main portion consists of a square
box surmounted by a Chinese canopy in Ameri
can leather, and stuck upon four wheels by the
intervention of some antediluvian springs. Be
tween the shafts a sorry mule walks solemnly
along until a blow from the lout-end of the whip
(thongs appear to be mere survivals of a once
useful structure) rouses him for a moment into
a furious canter, subsiding immediately into
the original dead-march. Over unmetaled roads
intersected by open water-ways, and diversified
by occasional hollows known under the graphic
title of ‘butter-bowls,’ the negro driver jolts his
luckless victim with undiminished composure,
observing with a grin after each unusually
heavy jump, ‘Alassa from Englan’ doan’t 'cus-
tomed yet to Jamaica ro-d; dat nuffi.1 after massa
lam to know him ! ’—a pleasing prediction
which massa shortly recognizes as no more than
the truth.
So on we jolt, from one tumbled-down street
to another, past groups of chattering negroes,
past long rows of shabby houses with no trottoir
in front, until at last we draw up at the broken
door and shaky wooden steps of Colonial Hall.
I am not writing an account of Jamaica, but
merely exposing ‘Tne Great Tropical Fallacy;’
and so I will not try to describe the transcend
ent horrors of that unrivaled house of intertain-
ment. I have traveled in Spain, and I thought
I understood dirt but, believe me, I only knew
as yet the first rudiments of that extensive sub
ject. The floors of Colonial Hall might have
been converted into a thriving flower-garden.
The servants might have sold their rags to an
enterprising manager as ‘propities’ for Joe or
Oliver Twist. The loaves of bread might have
been transported entire to the entomological
cabinets of the British Aluseum. The whole
house might have been indicted for a nuisauce
by the righteous indignation of the New Cut.
I will not dwell upon it, lest 1 should seem to
exaggerate, but will pass on to my after-experi
ences of the country at large, so far as they cast
a gleam of light upon the true nature ot the fal
lacy in hand.
That tropical towns are squalid and miser
able, I suppise everybody more or less believes.
I discovered at a later date that Kingston, com
pared with Santa Martha or Savanilla, might be
considered a clean, thriving, and civalized city.
But, to my untutored European mind, it seemed
at first sight more frightful than anything I
could have believed of Coomassie or Timbuctoo.
j I suppose those who stay at home have no idea
of what an extra-European town must necessa
rily be. At any rate I could not before have
believed that there existed on earth a place so
wretched, so mean looking, so utterly ban arupt
and disreputable, as that in which I then stood.
But the country, thinks the unsophisticated
Briton, the country must be beautiful! There
the hand of man cannot mar the natural charms
of green fi Ids and lovely flowers. There the
waving sugar-cane, the graceful bamboo, the
spreading tree-fern, the mignifieent palms
(those palms again !) must m iko a scone o fairy
loveliness. There th > oran ; trees, the parrots,
the butterflies ah, my hear sir. all mere fancy !
Go and see for yourself, or trust those who h i ve
seen. Such things you niyv till i; yon will
at Kew Gardens or at Sydenham, but not, I
assure you, in the tropics.
Men ana Women.
W hat, Tltuy him Doint? in the World.
Gov. Nidi oils of Lnusiana issued a proclama
tion recommending Wednesday, Oct. !):h, as a
day ot fasting, humiliation and prayer for de
liverance from Hie scourge. The Governor has
also issued proclamations offering rewards for
the arrest and conviction of the parties who
Lung the colored roan Croadheart on the seventh
ol September in AVest Feliciona parish until he
was nearly dead, and then beat him and also
his wife and two children. Also for the arrest
of Hie murderers of Thomas Dalton on the 21st
ol September in West Feliciana parish.
Thomas Greer, while hunting in the coast
range somewhere in San Lni Obispo or Aventu
ra county, California,'pursued a wounded buck
into a wild region of rocky canyon and vertical
cliffs. Suddenly became to a deep recess, which
made him forget his deer and pore for hours
over a remarkable sight. Ua had discovered a
school of pictured rocks in the heart of the
mountains. Ou the face of the rocks were rude
carvings of birds, animals, weapons of war,
hum:yi beings and other things, all illuminated
with some sort of red pigment, which he took
to be ciDnahar. There’s history for some enter
prising student.
Aliss Belle C. C. A. Hannah is appointed pos -
master at Keezletown Ivy. A r ice C. J. Longaere,
resigned.
Ohio has a hoy with three eyes. Lord help
the fellow who goes to see that bay’s big sisters.
Sam Fagin, a Floridian of color, concluded
that he would wash his hands in the Tampa riv
er last Tuesday morning, an ’ while sitting on a
log engaged in the act an alligator rose to the
surface, his tail within Sam’s easy reach. Sam
thought it would be an easy joke to catch hold
of the tail, and did so,ancl it seems that tne a;H-
gator at the same moment thought it would be
a good joke to swallow three or four of Sam’s
Angers. Both got away.
Gov. Holliday has been trying for some time
to borrow, from the banks of Richmond, $200,
000 to aid the Free Schools of AYrginia. So far,
he has failed.
Miss Mollie Nelson, of Southampton county,
Virginia, was accidently shot and killed lay
week by Luther Deale.
Tramps in the South are burning cottocgins
where the proprietors will not pay them $1 a
hundred for picking cotton.
Mr. AA’iley Tunstall, of Hale County, Ala., has
ordered 1,000 English sparrows, which he hopes
wiii prove an tflectual cotton-worm destroy
er.
‘By the way, Jeems, I ain’t went down thar
A iis a seni^nce ascribed to a Congressional
nominee in Missouri while at breakfast with a
friend.
The Coun'y Attorney of San Saba County,
Tex., was recently shot at night by a concealed
assassin. AVith his dying breath he declared
that the Sheriff of the county was his murderer.
A man was recently literally cooked in a steam-
bat a in ban Francisco, into which he went with
out the knowledge of the attendants. He turn
ed the gteam on ignorantly, and was first suffo
cated and then boiled.
The widow O'Gorman, of Goss-Allen prize
fight notoriety, has been fined $400 in the
Boone Circuit Court, Kentucky, for keeping a
tippling-house, and has gone to Chicago to mar
ry ‘a retired sporting man.’
A revival is in progress in A’irginia, at the
Crab Bottom camp-meeting. A ‘noted infidel’
(Calhoun), who was selling his works on the
camp ground, was converted amid the shouts
of myriads of glad hearts.
Robert Burns’ nieces, Agnes and Isabella,
reside near Ayr, Scotland. ‘They live,’ says a
tourist, ‘in a little low stone cottage, with
thached roof. Everything indicates a lack of
this world’s goods, yet is neat and artistic, with
flowers and pictures all about the room. They
entertained us with talks about their uncle, and
showed us some letters which have never been
published, and with true Scotch hospitality of
fered us some cake of their own make—made of
Australian flour which they had had in the
house two years; ana three kinds of wine—one
of their own make, made from grapes grown
in their own little yard.’
A True Incident.
Divding the Children.
Five weeping children were left orphans the
other day by the death of their mother, a widow,
who lived on Prospect street. The father was
killed at one of the depots about two years ago,
and since then the mother had kept tbe family
together by hard days’ work. Lack of food, ex
posure and worry brought on an illness which
terminated fatally, and the children huddled
together in a corner of the room, feeling awed
and frightened, but unable to realize that death
had made them waifs. AAYien the remains had
been sent away to Potter’s Field, a dozen women
gathered and held a whispered conversation.
‘111 take one of the poor things, though I’ve
four children of my own,’ said one of the wo
men.
‘And I’ll take another.’
‘And I’ll take one.’
•And so wiil I.’
Then there was the baby—a toddling boy,
who had been rooked to sleep every night of his
life, and whose big blue eyes were full of tears
as he shrank behind his sister to escape obser
vation. As none of the poor women seemed
prepared to take so yonng a child, a girl not
over ten years old, dressed a little better than
other children there, crept into the group,
reached out for the babe, patted his white head,
kissed him, and said:
‘I will take this one ! I have no brother, and
ma and pa will let me keep him. He can sleep
in my trundle bed, play with my doll, and they
may give him all m3* presents !’ and the girl ran
around the corner and rt turned with her mother,
who sanctioned all she had said. ‘Come, hubby,
yon are mine now!’ called the girl, and he
laughed as she put her arms around him and
tried to lift him up.
B" and by a woman said: ‘Children, you have
neither father, mother, or home. Y’ou must'be
divided or go to the poor-house. Kiss [each
other, poor orphans, and ail kiss the baby !’
They pnt their arms around him, and hugged
and kissed him, and they went out from th old
house to go in different directions, and perhaps
never again to meet together.—Detroit Frse
Press,