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JOHN H. SEALS, Editor m »*••'• ‘* r -
Wm. B. SEALS. Proprletoi '.. f! % J"*-1- ■ ® r -
MRS. MARY E. BRYAN. (*) A*»o«l- «* * ,tor
ATLANTA. GEORGIA, OCTI 0 >ib, «8*&>
A (hnriirlrrlNtir Anecdote of Feehter.—
Not many years ago, Feehter, he eccentric German
actor, was the rival of Booth in popular, favor and
his original personations f Shakespearean charac
ters were hailed by many as the only true inter
pretations of the master. But gradually Feehter s
star declined; he fell into evil ways; remorse dogged
h’in for the desertion of a good wife and children
who worshipped him; he sank lower until his life
went out lately, almost unregretted. Interest in
him has been ievived from the fact that two wo
men are conten ’iug for the right to bear his name,
one the long deserted wife in Europe, the other the
New York actress who claimed to be his wife and
who te legraphed his death to his daughter, signing
“Mrs. Feehter” to the message. A number of an
ecdotes are revived illustrating cis eccentricity.
Among them this shows the impulsive fearlessness
of'he man.
One evening at the Gymnase, when the comedy,
“ XJn Demande un Governenr" was lining performed,
Feehter was much annoyed by loud talking in one
of the boxes. The disturbance kept increasing,
whed Feehter, stung by the insult, hurled his cane
with all his force into the box. Then he calmly rang
a bell, and ordered a same to stop the racket and re
turn to him his cane. The prospect of a duel si
lenced the enthusiastic audience. The card ot M. le
Comte came to Feehter in his dressing room. He
was looking for a challenge.
“Monsier Feehter,” said tlie count, in a defferen-
tial manner, “I owe you a very humble apology for
my conduct. A short time ago I was intoxicated,
ai d insulted you unconsciously. Your cane brongb,
me to my senses, and I now come to you for par
don.” Feehter was not adamant and they seperated
friends. *
The Search for a Million.—H. \V. G. has not
proven successful in his search alter a millionaire
in v. eorgia, and we are not sorry that his search
has had this result. To say that a country has not
many very rich men is the same as saying that it
has not a great many paupers. For the two terms
are corre ative. The man who piles up dollar after
dollar until the amount has to be expressed by six
ciphers, does so by pushing scores, perhaps hun
dreds from the chances of a moderate competence.
How many poor men and women do withot nee's-
riesthats me banker may boast of extending his
business over half the globe? How many seam
stresses and porters, and clerks feel- themselves
over-worked and underpaid, that the growing mer
chant may open new branches of his house in dis"
tant cities? When the landed proprietor stretches
his authority over one farm after another until
whole districts own him aslandlord, it can be clear
ly seen that he is growing more powerful by the
min of others. We are not about towrite apara-
grapli in the interest of communism and insist that
all this is wrong. The wealtli of the Banker, the
merchant, and the speculator in stocks may be hon
estly gotten. But it all has to be made by some one
else. The interest which makes their f. rtnne-is
an additional tax upon the man who digs, If the
usury be heavy, t lie capitalist lias a bet ter chance to
become a millionaire, and the laborer is propor"
tioually oppressed. Hence we assert that if we had
a large number of very wealthy men, the fact would
prove the contrary tha' we are in a healthy condi
tion. It might all seem verv well snlimi
.nnrxr.'m oil silver. But the counterpart of
this picture is not'o pleasant to contemplate. In
this world of ours, however the counterpart must
exist. Wherever there are palaces there are hov
els. if Dives passes us clad in purple and bo tie
along in his gilded chariot, we will be sure soon to
meet Lazaru-, dirty, ragged and diseased. Nay, the
sons of poverty will not he one but many, though
the cost of one supei fluous ornament in the outfit
of D,ves would clothe all their limbs and warm all
their stomachs. It. is most certain that the poor
envy tne rich. Yet, could they know i ll, they
would find small occasion for this envy. Unless a
man can be so rich that he need • xereise no care
about it, the vexations attendant upon keeping his
wealth is a considerab e offset, against tlie happi
ness it can afford. In Utopia there will be neither
palaces nor hovels—neither millionaires nor pau
pers. * *
The Migration to Kansas.—Tliat there should
be an exodus of colored people from various points is
just what might be expected. It would be a won
der indeed, if this highly imitative people did not
enjoy some of their newly acquired freedom by
migrating from one portion of the country to an
other. The disposition to do so becomes irresisti
bly strong when there is a prospect of going in large
droves. Nothing is so attractive to the average
negro asau excursion; and so long as these migra
tions have the seeming of a holiday, they will be
vastly enjoyed. Nor need it be a matter of surprise
that they have chosen a place to which to direct
their travels so little adapted to their physical and
industrial habits as Kansas. Such movements are
not controlled by reason. All speculations about
the causes which make these people migrate are
idle. We could as readily comprehend t he flight of
a swarm of flies. One tiling, however, we can as
sert with safety. The treatment received by the
negroes at the hands of the southern whites has
had nothing to do with it. The African raeeattlie
•South has been treated since their emancipation as
are the laboring class of no other country ofthe
world. This is known to every Northern m m of
any intelligence and will be admitted by every one
of any candor. We may also safely say that their
going will not beany serious detriment to the
South. We can spare them. Those rabid hater of
the South who are gloating over the idea of our “loss
ofla! or” are under a delusion. Their presence here
does not, as it once did, afford the white man ease
and wealtii. Fully one-fourtli of them are cf no
direct advantage to the while man. Another
fourth are of no use to to the country, nor to them
selves. The other half may benefit white people
some, but it is a benefit gaiued at the expense of
many inconveniences. We will perhaps be much
benefitted by the negro going north. When there
are as many of them in Ohio and Illinois as there are
in Georgia and Alabama we will not perhaps hear
so much of their wrongs. Let the people of these
States enjoy a few of the sweets of African domina
tion, and they will cease to complain because
Southern papers have not proclaimed such a state
of things to be a foretaste of heaven. It may be
well that they have select ed one Northern State to
which to migrate, and when they shall have over
run it, they will perhaps be ready to admit that a
little lawlessness for ridding them ofan incubus so
horrid is not to be so severely censured. * *
When Allah has a mind to ruin the ant, lie gives him
wings. The insect, filled with joy and pride, takes his
flight. A little bird passes, sees him, and snaps him up.
A recent census of Fall River shows that the popula
tion of that city has decreased some sixteen hundred in
the past year, which seems to be the dreadful roll of em
bezzlers who have disappeared.
CHARCOALSKETCHES.
“Poor Murdered Bobby.”
BY MARY E. BRYAN.
NO- VI.
It was while Louisiana was groaning under her
heaviest yoke. A malignant administration had
spit, its venom upon her in the shape of carpet-bag
gers that swarmed upen her soil like the plague-
frogs of Egypt. Every parish was a petty mon
archy ruled by a despot with the title of Provost
marshall, who punished by fines and imprisonment
the unlucky planters that dared offend the tender
sensibilities ofthe darky goverr men t. pels. Freed-
nien’s Bureaus called for in mime able official legs
to upho'd them; and the scent of office drew to this
unhappy region, a swarm oflinrgry adventurers to
settle wherever there seemed a chance to suck the
substanceofthe country.
Among these, was one Simon Stokes—a red-faced,
thick-necked, pursy P< nnsylvanian, who gave out
th-this title was "Ca-tain,” and that he had led a
“gallaut company of colored military intot.be war
against the rebels” Simon had secured a small
slice of office and hankered with all his soul for a
larg r one. Nay. being ambitious, he determined
to hook out a bigger plum from the government
pie, if there was any virtue in z al, in ingratiating
him elf with the dark element that then did nearly
all the voting, and in ingenious agitat ion of every
circumstance tending to show the unreconstructed
disposition of the native whites.
Late one night, or rather rarly one morning, Si.
moil was returning from the “True Blues,” a secre
colored league of his organizing, who met twice a
month to abuse the miserable Southern whites and
enlarge upon the superiority of the colored race, and
especially upon their capacity for politics and office
holding. The Captain had. on this occasion, made
a speech, in which lie apologized so humbly for the
color of his skin, that his defect in this particular
was magnamimously overlooked.
“My friends.” he said, “it is true my skin is white,
which I cannot lieip, but I assure you my heart is
as black asany gentleman’s among you.”
Then followed a social (lvteruizing, and the brown
jug circulated so freely that Simon ■ ad to accept
the assistance of some of his colored brothers in
mounting his uant, raw-boned Rosinante. Once
mounted, however, lie jogged on gaily, his fat legs
sticking outat right angles, as he sang . t the top of
his voice that elegant war ditty—“We'll hang Jeff
Davis on a sour apple tree.”
He felt that tie was justified in being el ted. He
was making headv.ay iu the path of popularity,
and if only something would occur that would bear
being agitated; if old Judge Wheeler, or his son, the
most obstinate of the unreconstructed—would
thrash an impudent small darkey or pepper the legs
of a tlieiving adult with a charge of pea or pop-corn
—anything that might warrant the waving of the
bloody shirt and the cry of “another Southern out
rage!” and If he, Mimon, might be first to find the
mare's nest and report thesa' ie to official head
quarters, then might he hope for promolion and ex
pect to find himself plumped Into a fatter office,
where he could feast on claret and roast mutton in
stead of on the cheap whisky and rancid bacon that
now sustained liis corporosit'. With these rosy
dreams in his mind, Simon jogged on towards town,
sit.ing^his horse with the grace of a meal-sack, un
til ju«t as he approached a negro cabin not lar from
the unrecon-tructed Judge Wheeler’s, he heard an
uproar of unearthly screams, and presently the
loudbing ot a gun, followed by a woman’s stifled
shriek.
Notwithstanding his brilliant self-reported war-
record, it must.be owned that the gallant captaiu
was scary. His first instinct was to get away from
this vicinity as quickly as his bony steed could car
ry him. But an impulse of ambitious self-interest,
combined with curiosity kept him from running
'vuieft rrtrwas -rri.iilrlfjwonl/l happen that
he might tide into notice upon its bloody wave- He
rodeoawtiously round to the back of the house and
peered over the fence There he saw liy the dim
half-light, a negro woman flat on her back in the
| yard and a small object writhing beside her. The
assailant was nowhere to lie seen. Presently the
woman gathered herself up, picked up the small ob
ject and carried it in the house where there was a
light. The next instant lie heard her loudly be
wailing t he murder of her “dear, precious Baby,” as
it seemed to the excited ears of Simon.
“He's killed him! De mean. Tow-lived scoundul!”
she cried rushing out ofthe house. “He ought to
be strung up by de neck and old Judge Wheeler
wid him.”
“Is lie gone?” asked Simon precautiously edging
up to the fence preparatory to getting down,
“Yes, he’s gone, de villain! Didn’t you see him
jump de fence? Ef you’s ary frien’ to colored
people, you'll follow him and shoot him.”
“That, would be rash,” said cautious Simon. We’ll
fix him another way. He was white you say?”
“To besure. ’Twas ole Judge Wheeler’s Sam.—
He’s been prow'in roun here before; he had a spite
agin me, cause I caught him at his tricks.”
“Areyou wounded?”
“No, but I'se knocked down and out of my senses
along wid datgun. But my poor Bobby’s killed,
murdered—and he was de best ”
“Are you sure he is dead?”
“Didn't lie draw his last gasp in my arms just
now; an lie de best and smartist creeter in dis whole
parish. Oh, de murderin'wretch to kill such a—”
"This is capital, I mean horrible!” exclaimed the
excited would be agitator, rubbing his hands to
gether in delight.
“This is a frightful outrage upon the defenceless
colored race.”
“Y'es it is,” she blubbered. “My name is Mrs.
MarthyAnn Jinks, sir. I’m a lone colored lady
with nobody to pertect me.”
“Yes, the government will protect you. The gov
ernment has shed its blood to secure your rights.
Judge Wheeler nor any one dare not trample on
you. Yon shall have redress and protection; the
government will give them to you. Come with me
at once to the Provost marshall.”
“A dress and a protector!” repeated Marthy Ann.
“Is you sure de government wi 1 give um to me?”
with a recollection of the lo_g promised, and as
yet unattained, mule and forty acres.
‘‘I know it, if your case is well staged, as it shall
be by me. Come at once before the news goes
abroad. Get up beliin i me, it is almost daylight.
And, let me see, it you could wrap up the body and
take it with you, it would be best. It would be
a good stroke to show it all bleeding after your sto
ry is told—a thrilling tableau.”
Simon had once been a stock actor in in a travel
ing theatr.cal company, and a taste for the foot
lights clung to him still.
“A dress and a pertector!” mused Martha Ann as
she went in to wrap np the body of poor Bobby, and
together bonnet and shawl. “I hope it will be a
nice flowered worsted; caliker’s so common. And
as for a purtector, I’d ruther not have Caleb back.
He's a trifling rigger, and he never conld sing like
bru'.ider Ben Perrow. I’d ;ake him ef I can have my
chice.”
The guant steed groaned nnder the doable load
piled upon him, but the Captain’s soul was fired
with thoughts of promotion and Cst office aheo',
and he kicked the skinny ribs of his horse and u. ged
that unfortunate into a spasmodic gallop as the
queer trio made their advent into town just at sun
rise. The lean steed, the excited fat man, bumping
upon the saddle with a colored fema'e behind him
carrying a bloody bundle, attracted people from
houses and s >a\irs as they passed, and when
the two dist^TM in front, of the Provost’s lodg
ings they, ha«%y4espectable following of men and
boys of variou’Pblors. The posse tiled into the of
fice ofthe Pri**st. and that worthy shortly np-
pea red havii. -en roused, by rumors of a terrible
outrage and hf edly putting himself inside his
clothes and oujfcl”.a fortifying glass of the bever
age that cheeiCaebriates. On his entrance lie
took in thescLif at a glance and saw something
momentuous tflh-vited him. The center of an ex
pectant gronp.^saw Simon-one of his numerous
supes—standir.^ vith his fat face elongated witli
immense griitr' sad importance, running one
hand through disordered locks while the other
rested on the before him, where lay an object
wrnpped in a ' | tb" c*otli. At a distance sat. the
bereaved Mar,® ' lilnn wiping her ey s with the
corner of hern, h and shaking her head in reply
to the que-til'f of her fellows, Simon having
enjoined upon j^tokeep silence. Hedid not wish
his coup de therl J gpoiled. He felt himself a paral
lel to Marc Aw-Ay delivering the oration over
the body of CiriGjk as lie cleared his throat, blew
his nose with a|fbun<ling report; and began in a
voice of tragic fy°hndity:
“Wehave hegB of outrages on the part ofthe
unreconstructe l0 - t iites to our colored brothers and
sisters, but her<jj !>ur ve*y doors in the small hours
ofthe night tl’jhas been committed a deed o
atrocity hardlylpiaralleled in history-a deed that
not only destroyed an innocent life and bereaved a
wretched w imanjbut Which menaces our govern
ment and lays arf*xe at the tree of our liberties.—
Having had feats tuat lawless proceedings were on
foot, I have lor sometime kept up a secret patrol;
and at daybreak tiis morning, I heard the report of
a gun at the lioufe of this worthy woman, Sirs,
Jinks—alone widow whose husband might stir in
his grave to knoitr”
Here an intermixing voice sang out:
“Heaint in no grave; Caleb hearty and live as
anybody. He quit Marthy Ann case—”
“Silence!” commanded Simon with a stern wave
of his arm. “The report of tha gun was followed liy
loud screams am? frenv.ied appeals. I rushed to the
rescue with all the s. eed in my power; but I wi
alas, too te. The miscreant had lied when he
heard my approach, leaving his victims on the
ground. Yes. there lay the form of Mrs. Jinks life
less from the cowardly blow dealt by the butt ol the
gnu that had missed the aim at her heart; ami there
beside her, in the agonies of death, lay her wor
shipped offspring. Yes, gentlemen, the hellish mal
ice of this white febel—the scion of a family ol
higli-to'ed Southern*. s(!) God save the mark! this
fiendish malice had wreaked itself upon theinuO'
eeut being before me. This sole hope of a widowed
mother’s heart—this unblown bud ->f innocence lies
blighted before you, its bleeding wounds crying to
heaven and to this mighty government for ven-
geauc j upon the unreconstructed murderers and
oppressors of a noble race.”
Bangs, as Marc Antony, might have envied the
air with which Simon unrolled the bloody cloth,
while the excited spectator crowded up and be
held the bleeding body of a big bob-tailed tom
cat.
Simou’s face was a study. His eyes seemed start
ing from their sockets: he staggered back, his fat
cheeks pale enough for once. There was a moment
ofspe chles-astonishment; then the crowd broke
into a guffaw, that was speedily repressed for the
brow ofthe Provost wore its darkest scowl. He felt
that his ■ ignity was insulted.
“What cussed foolishness is this?" cried the au_
gust functionary. “Simon S’okes. how dare you
play your sorry jokes off on this department? ’
•q I—never—no, never,” stammered the cliokin
voice ofthe uniucuy pupe. who felt the downfall of
all hopes of office in his master’s eye. “Itwas/iei
that wretched old negro woman there—she de
ceived me. She said it was her baby ’
“I didn't!” screamed the angry voice of Marthy
A| i!i^“and M I.aijt < ^o<Q^ | i^c' 'j sai ^f it my |
by—my torn c.p wlsi^’ tfl|og kifled.”
“Dog!” repeated tb* Wretched Simon. “You said
that it was a white man—Judge Wheeler’s son,—
you woman, you!”
“1 never said no such fool ting: I said it wvs
Jedge Wheeler's ole white dog, Sam; and I aint no
woman, you pull-faced yankee. I’sea lady, I is; Ui
tell you how it was. gentlemen. I let dat ole goose
have liis say case I didn't know what he was drivin
at, wid his big words; but dis is jes how de matter
stands. 1 woked up before day a hearin a tremen
dous yawlin’ and squaliti' and I knowed in a iniuit
de Jedges suck-egg Sam was in my back yard a i'o.,1
uv my cat Bold) , dat every-body knows is de best
ratter in de parish. I jes jump outer the bed|tml
snatch up Caleb’s ole gun an’ runout and banged
away at de white scoundel, and de ole gun dat's
mean as Caleb hisself, it kicked me fiat o’ my back
and when Income to and go-' up, dere's.my poor Bob
by dying on de ground by me, and dat man dere a
settin on his horse kinder dodgin roun’ my hen
house atjd peepin' out. I jest could see him, case de
day hadn’t good broke. I carried Bobby iu to re
light, and lie so*rod in my arms, and I run out and
axed the man to go after de dog and shoot him, an’
he say, no, we’ll fix him auudder way. You git up
behind me an’ go to de Provo. De government shall
perwide you a dress and a pertector; it ought tc; case
you’s a lone colored lady and your feelin’s has been
outraged, and lie said take along de body and it
would be ? fellin’stroke to show it after he done
laid my case before the Provo. And so I come, case
I tort a dress want a ting to lose the chance of, nor a
pertectur needer, do I must say, IJhad ruddei have
somebody besides dat ole Caleb, ease lie is mon
strous triflin’, au he want no pervider. But bore's
dat man, what call hisself a captain, gettin up and
noratin a passel of stuff an lies I never tort er tei-
lin him, and liavin de Provo lookin black and all
dese busy bodies a laffin; jest be use of liis foolish
ness I never see sicli a fool man. He mus’ been
raised on mush. He better go back to his mudder
till he cut his wisdom tooth.”
This "unkindest cut of all” from the ungrateful
Marthy was more than poor Simon could bear. He
sneaked out amid peals of laughter from tlieas-
semlily and feline “meows” from the small boys.
His “vaultingambition had over-leaped itself;’’ liis
hopes of office were crushed in the bud, and there
after in the ranks of industrious agitators ofthe
Southern outrage question, the voice of Simon was
heard never more.
^ i i » i i ■
They walked out of the theatre arm in arm. She
was as dainty as a princess, and prettier than an
opening flower. The long, soft, white feather hung
gracefully to her shoulder, and her long, delicate,
; lender hand held asumptuous fan. He looked pret-
tyspooney himself, but he felt good. “How did you
like the opera, pet?’’ he faintly inquired, and the
delicious little angel looked up into his face, and
while th‘ gasbearas lig ted up the bit of court-plas
ter on his chin, replied: “It was bully!”
USURY.
What is the Difference Between the Usury ofthe
Money-Lender and the Usurv of
the Merchaut?
BY HARRY EVELYN.
Shakespeare has made the name of Shylock odi
ous, an epithet to be applied to men the world over,
even to this dav, who demand and exact exorbi
tant interest, and all because he was a usurer, who
drove hard bargains and reaped where he had not
sown. Shylock is made to say of Antonio :
“How like a fawning publican he looks !
I hate him. for he is a Christian :
But more, for that, in low simplicity.
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice,
if 1 catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him,
He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails.
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well won thrift,
Which he calls interest.”
The reference here is to thp fact that until the
fifteenth century no Christian’s were allowed to
receive interest of money, and Antonio says :
“I neither lend nor borrow,
Bv taking, nor by giving of excess.”
At that period the Jews were the only usurers,
and they were often persecuted and even banished
for their ‘bargains.’
Now let us see if there be not usurei s beside
money-lenders—those who drive hard bargains
where necessity compels the purchaser to pay the
exorbitant price often demanded. The argument
against exacting usury should apply, not to the
money-lender alone, hut to those engaged in all
the trades and avocation. It is as much usurv to
make a man pay an unusually high price for the
bread and meat wherewith to sustain Die lives of
himself and family, or for anything else they may
require, as it is for the man who has money to loan
to exact a very high rate of interest from tha neces
sitous borrower. It is notorious that combinations
have kept prices of many commodities much above
what thev really should have been, reckoning by
the law of supply and demand. It istlie possession
of large amounts of money, upon which no usurious
interest is paid—perhaps no interest at all—that
enables combinations—‘corners’ they are, in com
mercial circles—to control the prices of those arti
cles which are necessary to sustain life. A combi
nation of moneyed men buy up immense quan
tities of wheat or corn and hold for higher prices,
withdrawing the same from market and t hus cre
ating a temporary scarcity. Like combinations
control tlie provision market, the sugar market,
and the markets for other commodioties, in a like
manner. It is true, they occasionally make a mis
calculation, and the result is a disastrous failure
and bankruptcy, but not until great injury has
been inflicted upon those who are dependent upon
their daily labor for the wherewith to support
their families, in the enhanced prices they have to
pay. Earlv year before last it was reported that
there would lie a heavy foreign demand for bread-
stuffs as a result of the war between Russia and
Turkey. Flour jumped up two dollars on the bar
rel in a very short time, and corn followed suit.
Time rolled on and there was no increase in the
foreign demand to justify this increase in prices
here. Harvest time was near at hand, and some
heavy holders of wheat had to ‘unload’ or ‘break,’
and lienee the reported prospective foreign demand.
Consumers had to pay exorbitant usury as the re
sult of this ‘dodge’ of the speculators. He see the
working of such combinations on a limited scale
in most of our cities. There is developed a local
scarcity of some article of breadstuff', provisions,
or groceries, and forthwith holders advance prices
and the necessitous are thus compelled to pay usury.
Take another illustration. During the’summer
months coal-dealers will sell when considerable
quantities are taken at reduced prices, and the
wealT y supply themselves : but the poor man,
whose labor is his capital, finds Ins treasury so
drawn upon that lie can afford to buy but one or
two cart-loads at a time, so he is compelled to pay
more per bushel than his wealthy neighbor, as well
as the advance which usually takes place when cold
weather sets in. Now, if th*- man with money to
loun must not exact usury—and no one will say that
care of themselves and their own interests, ought
thev not to lie equally considerate of those who are
required to pav exorbitant prices for the where
with to sustain life and clothe and render their fam-
iliescomfortable—especially of poor laboring men?
comikioditfcr for saie n.,
■> y yrhat may be lairVy termed a usurious pi
Chatty Letters About New Books.
THE BEST AND NEWEST THINGS.
BY MRS. F. A. REYNOLDS.
Dear Sunni/ South:
After an unusually cool spell for this season of
the year, we are now experiencing real August
weather, hut not so hot as last year.
Yesterday afternoon as I was sitting on the back
porch reading the latest papers, my brother walked
up, and without exchanging greetings, called out,
•Do you have fleas here ?’
‘On my replying in the negative, he said:
‘Well, I guess I’ll stop here.’ .
He had been visiting where the fleas had inter
fered with his bodily comfort. I was glad to wel
come him to a more peaceful haven, especially as a
visit from him is a rarity, and next Monday he
starts for far off Montana!
We visited fast during his short stay, and sung
together as of old, he, Nelly and I, his magnificent
V.ass voice blending beautifully with Nellie’s sweet
alto, and my soprano.
To-day some dear friends of his visited u; and lie
went home with them. Mrs. Walker looked care
fully .at my precious books and exclaimed:
‘Why, Del, what a fine c flection you have?’
As is my custom I lent her some, and she went
home, bearing the rich thoughts of gifted minds,
and lighter reading denominated by the strong-
minded as‘trash.’ One book that is a decided or
nament to my table,as well as a treasure of inform
ation and entertainment, is 'Lives of the Presi
dents,’by the famous John Abbott. Within this
volume is a finely written chaptei on each of the
nineteen presidents.
There are also portraits of them all together with
pictures of tii dr residences, of the ‘ White House,’
and capital, and of the centennial buildings, be
sides steei plates of a scene in each of our four wars.
The whole is a fine history of the United States im
partially written, tor the lives of the nation’s chief
tains necessarily combine the most important facts
in its history.
I have often heard of tlie ‘Father of our Country’
and his mischievous little hatchet which was the
cause of his world-renown :ai speech. I knew that
John Adams and Thomas Jefferson were famous
men of ’heir times, and instrumental in forming
our national government. 1 knew that John Quin
cy Adams w as a scholar as well as a ruler, and
tcis knowledge with what I know of the presidents
since my ret oliection, was all I could muster on that
subject. But in this large, elegant volume I read
the circumstances that moulded the character of
these honored men; I learn of their home life, of
their trials, even amounting to persecution; of their
condition in life, of the private character they bore;
of the public view of their administrations, and
many pleasing anecdotes that make one feel ac
quainted, and my knowledge of American history
is much more perfect than liefore. I have learned
to love romantic old Virginia, as the home of so
many cultured great men of our early history, and
appreciate more fully the debt we owe to the old
patriots who fought with voice and pen, in congress
halls for what they considered man’s dearest
right.
When I was a child, I loved to read romance,
travels and history, but biography always seemed
dry and uninteresting. Of late years, however, I
like biography very much! In fact, a well-written
account of tlie life of a distinguished person includes
th o tenderest romance, the most reliable history,
and often very interesting descriptions of travels.
I think biographies are written in a more interest
ing style now-a-days and one of the best I ever read
is the ‘Life of Bayard Taylor,’ by Russell H. Con-
well, a personal friend of t he great traveler.
It is a hastily written volume, compiled soon af
ter Mr. Taylor’s death, and is really a labor of love,
by a sincere admirer.
It is full of tender reminiscences, and anecdotes
illustrating the ambitious, decisive character of the
man. In the most interesting manner his career is
reviewed. We read the romances of liis life, of his
varied experience, of his success cs a novelist, or-
.ator. traveler and poet. His ancestry, home, his
■tiv right for those having any . , . , - , ... ,, ,
s-i'p te * * , i h, . ctily tastes and ambitions are all faithfully de
s.ue •**“ **• '.ce u*-''' a ’Ai. 4 ills travels are i ’ "’ ’ ’ ’ *
■ minutely sketched, as the
for it? Remonstrate With dealers as to the high j * lu D ir)! ' has been over the same ground part of the
prices they are asking, and they will tell you, just tune w ith M”. Taylor. His public labors and pri-
what the money-lender will, that a commodity is ' at , c friendships are feelingly portrayed, and the
worth what it will command in the open market. | la-t chapter contains tue homage of great men.
It is right and proper tint men having money to I His acquaintance was extensive and exeeedinly de
loan should let it out at a fair living rate, because suable, anu the world mourned the loss of a genial
exacting exorbitant interest tends to cripple trade
and industry. But vvho shall fix the rate at which
money may be loaned! The man who has it to
loan and tlie man who desires to borrow! or shall
tlie men who neither borrow nor lend fix the rate
for those who do? The law says to the men who
have money to loan that they shall not loan it at a
greater rate of interest than, say, six per cent per
annum—the rate is not uniform in all the State--.
The law-abiding citizen is aware that thd demand
for money makes his worth more than tlie prescrib
ed rate, hut he accepts it. while his less scrupulous
neighbor exacts just what the necessities of the
borrower will compel! him to pay. The interest
laws are violated with impunity in every State and
will continue to be so long as there are men who
will urey upon the necessities of their neighbors—
they will take as high a rate of interest as they can
get , even if ic he the one-half the amount they loan.
1 his is a species of crime that cannot be punished
as other violations of law, for the reason that the
borrower becomes morally at least a party to the
violation, while very few would care to expose
their financial condition by becoming prosecuting
witnesses.
One of the arguments of those who contend for
fixing the price (interest) of money at a low rate
by law is, that farmers, the real wealth-producers
of the country, cannot afford to pay more than six
per cent for the use of money and make farming
profitable; and another is, that men disposed to en
gage in manufacturing cannot make that avocation
profitable if; they have to pay a higher rare than
six per cent for capital they may have to borrow.
Now, to illustrate the absurdity of arguments like
hese in favor of the Legislatures fixing prices of
any commodity, suppose a large number of citizens
of any State should petition tlie Legislature thereof
to fix the prices of all kinds of wares, merchandise,
etc., to trie end that merchants should not demand
Progress says: “A New York lady who lias been at Sar
atoga for two weeks, has changed her costume four times
a day, and has not yet worn the same costume twice.”—
Angels do not watch over such women, But, then, the
men do, which suits the women better.
Bapt st minister fishing near Cape Cod catches a
strange fish and asks ofthe skipper
“What manner oi fish is this, my good man? It
has a curious appearance.”
“Yass! Only been aronnd here this year.”
“What do you call it?”
«v\ e call ’em Baptists.”
“Why so?”
“Cause they spile so quick arter they come out of
the water.”
man of talent. It is a charming book! But I am
Staying too long this time.
^ I went visiting the other day, where, sitting in
tile cool, pretty parlor, luxuriating in the fragrance
of pansies, heliotrope and rose-geranium, we talked
about books and authors, a topic of which I never
tire
One of the ladies at the home we visited is an
invalid, and books help her through many weary
hours. She took up a morrocco-bound—red volume
of Tennyson, and said : "1 always send to Hough
ton, Osgood & Co., of Boston for my books : they
are not as cheap as some, 'but they always have
beautiful books. ■ I agreed with her in regard to
'lie beauty of their books for I have, several fine
works from their house
You remember the passionate, but unfortunate
Poe. whose poems and reviews have made his name
famous, although we always breathe a sigh of re
gret for the destruction of such magnificent genius,
and vow a constant warfare against his terrible en
emy, drink. All who have known much of Poe’s
life are aware of his engagement to a lovely and
talented lady of ^ beautiful old Providence, Mrs.
Sarah Helen hitman. My husband’s mother,
\\ hose girlhood home was in Providence, says she
remembers seeing Poe drunk as could be while Mrs.
VV hitman led him in that condition to her home on
Benefit street. Poe (lid not seem to be a common
drunkard, but he took spells, when he could not
resist the demon, and lost himself. Mrs. Whitman
truly loved and mourned the strange, gifted, but
unfortunate man, as manuscript poems, found after
her death, fully prove.
She was a sweet woman, and greatly loved bv
ner circle of friends, but she secluded her-elf from
society for a long time, on account of an invalid
sister, whose death preceded hers a few months,
ill's. Whitman never grew old, although over
exhorbitant prices of those who are compellel to buy seventy years of age at her death. She had
would such a petition carry with it the weight of a a sweet expression, which completely charmed the
feather toward inducing the legislators to thus ham- young people of her acquaintance.- After her
per trade? Suppose the millers should petition the I neath, over a year ago, her friends published her
Legislatures of the several States to fix the prices poems, making a neat, pretty volume in the hands
of the various grades of wheat upon a basis of one 1 c ,l,: ” ’ . . - -
dollar per bushel for the best, on the ground that
they could not make the manufacture of flour
profitable if compelled to pay higher prices, would
they not he jeered out of fhe halls of legislation? I
Then suppose the nianufaetu
should step into the 1
States with petitions pr _ _
fixing the price of cotton at such figures as would j of poetry to the chilVlhixT days, whentho^ mettv
enable them to manufacture domestics, calicoes | tales delighted our fancies pieu-y
and other fabrics at remunerative prices,would i Tf .
they not he hooted out of those Legislatures? .t is j h ", 1 t i° ‘ ht T correspondence is to be
said that cotton cannot be profitably grown at j {? ereS (ij n£r " , foi it could not but prove in
present prices. Suppose the planters in the various j 1 ” ='
States in which cotton is grown should petition the ! I Paw , ir L OIle of our papers a few days ago that
Legislatures thereof to fixjprices above which bread- lremont Temple of Boston, is burned, big organ
stuffs and provisions should not be sold in those j and ad. Much as I regret the loss of the organ i
states, to the end that cotton-growing might tie j could not help wondering where Joseph Cook, the
made more profitable, even at the present low K reat Monday noon lecturer, would now speak, for
—-— *— .l- -. j:.— u —i *'— Tremont Temple and Joseph Cook are inseparably
connected in my mind. Just think of a compara
tively young man giving hundreds of scientiffclec-
of the firm Miss Maggie so highly recommended
the other day. Mrs. Whitman’s poems are sweet
pure delicate, trusting, and sometimes passionate
often philosophical.
prices for that commodity, would not the Western
farmers protest earnestly against this folly if they
supposed the Legislatures v ould listen respectfully
to such stuff?
If the Legislatures have the right to fix the price
for the use of one commodity, it is equally compe
tent for them to fix the price at which a house :>r a
farm shall be rented, the price of a day’s labor, of
a bushel of wheat, of a barrel of flour, of a pound of
cotton, or tobacco, or bacon, or coffee, or sugar, or
any other commodity that may be offered for sale,
including land and live stock. The absurdity of
the Legislatures thus fixing prices will strike eve. y
reader at once. If the law of supply and demand
be not left to regulate the price (interest) of money,
why should it be left to regulate that of any other
commodity, or of labor, or of any kind of service
that may be required of men, including that of the
‘learned professions? If the Legislatures ought to
protect the borrower from the rapacity of the
money-lender, in an age and country in which men
are supposed to be sufficiently intelligent to tak
the sam ® l ,lace , before the same audience !
What resources he mus". have! Next to hearing is
reading, and on reading his lectures, one is amazed
at the amount of knowledge they display ! He must
have been, and probably still is, a gr4t student
and reader. The volumes 1 possess are on ‘Mars
nage’ and Heredity.’
With a luxuriant fancy, be empanels a jury ot
heathen celebrities, to whom marriage means su
preme affection, and before them, he considers the
subject on all sides, and in all its bearings. He
constantly appeals to them as they sit calmly in
I liny s villa, and from his argument, evolves a
beautiful theory, to which all the jury agree. ‘Love
without marriage,’ and ‘Marriage without love,’are
considered and set aside, as is also Polygamy. The
allusions are beautiful and appropriate, and give
one an idea of the vast store house of information.
Urbana, Illinois.