Newspaper Page Text
THE SUNNY SOUTH
5
The Heart of a Rose.
BY MRS. M. LOUISE CROS8LEY.
A rose within * garden-fold
Unveiled her virgin heart of gold
To day’s rude glare, and passers by,
Who paused and, with enamored eye,
Gazed on her face so fresh and fair
Upliftea to the soft May air.
A sunbeam g oated on her form
Of Sower grace and color warm ;
A humming-bird, with tend rbeak.
Kissed more than onct her dainty cheek,
As soft and low it seemed to s»v,
“<iood-bye, sweet heart,” and sailed away.
Great butterfTes in green and gold
Kucircled round with presence bold.
Coquetting with the flower-queen—
The loveliest bloom that earth has teen,
And all the air, loth to depart.
Drank sweetness from thtf rose's heart.
Anon, a bee. a rover bo'd
Over ail that lovely garden-fold,
C.ime drumming by and swinging round
In airy circles to the sound
Of his own song, he poised above
Tne blushing bloom, the flower of love,
And with a lover's subtle art
He wooed the rose's golden he -rt;
He found its richest treasured store,
aud d ran it its sweetness to the core,
Ti 1. laden with the honeyed draught
He hail so bo dly sought and quaffed,
With careless air he turns away,
But pauses brief, as if to say:
'T've robbed you of your sweets, fair rose,
But then your floral kingdom knows
“I rifle every flower-heart
Thai to my ir. asures can impart
“Its own sweet wealth ; whHt though itsay,
The gainer, I, the loser, they?”
Ah n e ? in this vain, painted world.
As thioogh its inuzes we are whirled,
I’ve seen more than one heart of go d
Its riches te the world unfold,
An dyie’d its store with sweetness rife
lo grace a less angelic life,
That fn return, as jealous foe.
Or treacherous friend—a meet duo!
Wou'd add to wrong a keenersmart.
And sting with scorn the rifled laeart.
Our Portrait Gallery
Enffravlnffa anal Itiojrraphies of
Dislingnislird Men and
Women.
I
JOin ADAMS APPLETO.Y
The generosity of the Appleton Brothers
to our Southern people as well as the sterling
value of the books issued by their Publishing
House and found in every library, collegeand
school house of the land mike it peculiarly
fining that a portrait and a brief ife ske ch
of one of tbi se brothers, recently dead,
should appear in a repieseutative paper of
ttie South.
The ta at known if not the oldest exiting
book put dishing firm in the Uni ed £> ates is
toat established flfiy-six veal s ago by the
five brolbeis Appleton. From the first the
firm look the high stand which it has main
tained through the years that have seen the
business ii crease to its piesent. immense pro
portions. Excellence in workmanship, per
fect integrity i" business transactions and a
fine pu'e literary taste have characteriz'd
the establishment from the day it was fou id-
ed. The first break in the fraternal group ai
its head was the death in 1849 of Mr. D Ap
pleton. Thirty years afterward another link
was severed by the decease of the stu iious
and scholarly Mr. George Appleton, aud on
the thirteenth of July last the firm and the
public at l&> ge sustained a great lo->s in the
d«a li < f Mr. John Adams Appleton.
He was six y-four years old, a q liet, pol
ished gentleman rather reserved and undem
onstrative, so that strangers thought hi in
cold, but those who knew him well bore
eager witness to the warmth and generosity
of uis heart. The “Publisher’s Weekly” paid
this feeling tribute to bis worth. “The
sturdy upr gbtness of this man tampered
with no opportunity for mere policy’s sake,
but asking in every matter, what is just,
w hat is right—did simply that and took the
chances on the result. Misunderstood bv
some, but respected by all, uudemou-
strative but also unimpeachable, always
cool and slow to wraib, of few words but of
many kindnes es, juiicious, helpful gener
ous aud just—such was John A. Appleton.”
At the memorial gathering of the many
attaches and employees of the House of D
Appleton & Co, wuirh took place the day
follow ing the death of Mr. J <hu Appleton and
inc'uded the heads ol ali tne House depart
ments and the E litor-s , f Science Monthly,
Appleton* Journal, North American Review
aoo Encyclopedia Mr. Matuews, cnitf of the
b.sik bindery, dwelt, with ueep feeling on the
noble character of the dead man, b a devi t on
to his home and family, to his church and to
bis work, saying: “He was a man of gener-
erous impulses restrained only by a sense of
dmy, his affections were deep and stronger
than was outwardly betokened; a well of
tenderness fl »wed in the depths of his nature,
whose springs were charity, good will and
Christian love Suffering anxiety or mis
fortune always found in nun kinnly sympa
tbv and the helping word and baud.”
Nor were his benefactions narrowed to
tho-e connected with him. The fine arts re-
ceceived generous p itronage at his hands,
the church tiem fired by his large donations
and he contributed liberally to public and
ptivate cliar.ties. He cooperated heartily
with his bio liers o'| the firm in their gen-n
ous aid to the South. In I867 the Appleton
Br> the r< gave 100 000 volumes of books for
distribution at the South by the trustees of
the Peabody fund. Nearly every Sunday-
school in the S. uthern states has received at
some tin e a donation of books from their i’-
lus'rious firm, and when the yellow fever
thiew its shadow of death and destitution
over our country, the Appl-ton’s were
prompt to extend their aid. Our own state
of Georgia gratefully points to a last ug
monument of the Apt ieton's generosi y—the
O-phan’s Home at Macon, built by Mr. Wil
liam Appleton at a cost of over twelve
thousand dollars, where orphan girls are
Clothed, fed and educated till eighteen years
of age. R cently, Mr. William H Appleton
has agreed to contribute aunualty a certain
amount for the current expenses of this
home, the amount of the interest of a further
bequest which he has made to this noble
charity in a codicil he has lately made to
his will. Long may the surviving members
of this staunch, uprigot publishing firm live
to sustain this time-honore d establishment
and to enrich our libraries with books of ar
tistic workmanship and literary value.
French Country Life.
How the Day Passes—The Hap
py Ease and Grace of the
Household Arran cements
—How French Children
are Reared.
AVhat Our Homes Meed.
If of the ill health of women over that
n must be charged to the indoor iife
1 forbids them the life giving influence
oven's free, pure air and sunshine,
r I ouses want more windows, larger
leys, more transoms, more grate fires in
ir, and less poisonous furnaces
make our houses comfortable at the ex-
of their hi-altufulness when we shut
od’s sunshine and pure air.
lecially should our sleeping-rooms be
larger, and be better ventilated. B *t-
e open window and the night air, often
ilishly dreadtd, than the slow- p lisoning
1 the bad air gives, and which leaves the
•r ro awake weak and unrefreshed by
imte~s.
tied rooms never be on the ground fl w,
*t the bed be rolled at night into the
le of the room, so that the air mayjmove
r around the sleepers.
The French understand perfectly how to
treat a guest. There is no fussiness, no con
stant effort to amuse or entertain. He is left
much to himself, but not in such a way as to
give the sense of neglect—only that of ease
and freedom. Whoever chooses to stay in
his pleasant bed-room in the morning to read,
write, or take an extra nap is free to do so.
| and he will be served there with tea, coffee.
' milk or chocolate without interfering with
| houst keeping arrangements. French hnspi
| tality takes into account the personal habits,
tastes, and even caprices of guests.
The children were generally up first. O 1
coming down stairs, I would find them in th,
dining room and be greeted by them as if I
were a relation. Wheo the elders came ii<
we would shake hands os each made h'S 01
1 er appearance. The moment the children
caught sight of “grendpere” there was s
rush for a kiss, while “mamma” rose from
her chair and received one from him on bei
nrow. The same c-remonv was observed 01
the entrance of “grandmar On the tabl-
stoood a 'ureen ot soupe maigre, c<.ff-e, tea.
fresh milk and chocolate, witn brioches
which two dishes put in italics I wi-h wt-r
common on the American table No hint,
remains to be added to the details of tbii-
early breakfast except that it was eulivenen
ny a desultory chat.
When this sort of morning lunch was over
we withdrew to our respective occupations
walking, riding, reading the morning papers
writing letters, or doing anything we please
until the regular breakfast.
The regular breakfast, announced by a
bell suspended out-doors at one angle of th«
house, took place at eleven o’cl"Ok. Al
were ready for it and puactual. The menu
of this meal is not important. It is only tos
manner of sei ving it, and every other meai
■ n France, which merits its special remark
In France to “set the tai le” means, general
Iv speaking, but to put n ithmg on it but tb>-
impleinents nee ssary for use. such as plates,
snives, forks, glass and napkins, with cara
fes of water, wine and condiments; add t
these the dessert, con-isting of fruits an-
various bonbons, and always an accompani
inent of flowers. All meats that nqure t<
he carved are cut up on dishes at a side table
and passed around by the waiter, who like
wise changes plates and watches the wanG
of those who are eating. V getables and the
solids of the d-ssert are served in like man
ner. The result is such an economy of time
aud labor, such a relief to the heads of th-
house, such an absence of confu-ion, such
oj tbetic enj >yment, owing in the first plats
ro order, aud secondly to agreeable harmo
• lies of color in the fruit and fl iwers before
vou, and especially to uniramtneled ro iver
sation, that one wonders at the maintenanc
of the “good old English fash'011” of a
i-erally “groaning board.” rattling plates,
n ce.-sant interruptions, and general discom
fort.
After breakfast, which was seme imes
followed by a half hour’s stroll through the
grounds, we resumed our work. For three
nours “all was still through the house.” Ai
four o’clock in the afternoon the mail came
Newspapers and coriesjiondence kept us oc
cupied for a time, according to the interest
'd public or private matters. When these
were disposed of it was the hour for reerea
turn. Walking, bathing, playing some out
<ioor game, or making an excursion in the
woods or on the water, something of this
kind always occupied what remained of the
afternoon. It is needless'to state that every
tiody was the more ready for dinner on ac
count of it.
Dinner in Francois supposed to be the
one great event of the day. So it is, but not
because it is a feeding operation. Ou the con
trary, this French meal is a domestic sympo
sium. in wh'Ch head and heart take prece
dence of the stomach. The interest and val
ue of a meal in France depend more on the
social than on the culinary element O e
rerely sees a F.encbman dining alone, not
for the reason that he wants some one to look
at, or to drink with, but because be wishes
some one to talk to Conversation, accord
ingly, renders the French table unique.
It begins with the prattle of children.
French children have a seat at table with
th“ir seniors almost as soon as weaned.
Wnat atteut on thev receive at table depends
of course, on discipline; the significant fact
is that they mingle with their elders at the
■ u'set of th ir careers, on what may be
called common ground, An expression of
sentiments and ideas belonging to successive
stages of intellectual growth is encouraged
The effect of'this custom is to secure a natu
ral play of emotions and ideas, the child’s
■nind is stimulated from without; its eyes are
fixed on objects, and its hearts on persons.
Children growing up under such treatment,
expressing their feelings and ideas openly
and disingenuously, with no restraint on
them bat that of finding themselves in un
sympathetic relations, talk well and act po
litely beciuse they talk and act spontneously
and naturally. The abuse of this system
through parental indulgence may stimulate
the child’s vanity, but it does not make it a
pretender or hypocrite.
To return to the dinner. We diued always
in fair weather in the op j n air, a luxury
which climate and freedom from annoying
insects permitted. Our table was placed in
the gravel walk in the shadow of two large
altheas which served to screen us from the
setting sun. Those who pleased sat with
their hats on. Grandmere was ensconced in
a canopy basket-chair, such as bathers use to
shield them from the breezs. Our meai
lasted a couple of hours, far into the twi
light, and longer still when there was a
moon, On one occasion, at the dessert, my
hostess favored us with a song of which the
chorus involved three smart raps on the ta
ble, in time with the music—such a thump,
iug aud rattling of glasses! Ou another oc
casion our talk 'd turned on the subject of
ballads, whereupon my host called up m his
daughter to sing one of madia; val tiroes
lately brought to light by an eminent savant.
! the »ubj »cc ot which was Christ, in a mendi-
i cant garb, wandering about the world to
| test tue charity of mankind. Tne words and
: music of this quaint ballad, its path is
I heightened by tne young girl's plaintive
| voice, as she sang it in the “soft stillness
: which becomes the touches of sweet harmo
I ny,” form, if not a typical incident, at least
! a charming reminisce use.
Alter dinner came in-door amusements
until bed time. To amuse the children was
the first thing We men folks joined them in
a sort of in niature ten pins on the blliard-
sable. Afterwards, when mamma came in,
j she exercised them in a game of questions
. designed to perfect them in their knowledge
I of history and geography. At length the
1 bonne appeared, which was the signal for
; withdrawal, and they kissed us good night.
i After their departure the rest sat down to a
j game of ‘ Boston,” at which grandmere was
specially diverted. At eleven o’clock some
simple beverage was brought in, and then
I we parted for the night.
■ This simple melody of existence had its
! variations. A magnificent walnut tree on
the place shaded a finetuify on quet ground.
An old gentleman and his daughter, with
two other young ladies who lived near by
frequently came to play this game. Wnat
struck me most on these occ asions was to see
a man of his years as lively and youthful,
and as much absorbed with the game, as any
of the young folks. Another tning struck
me even to astonishment, namely, three
young women of about twenty in plain but
becoming attire, outspoken, natural, easy,
and so much occupied with their game as not
to he aware that anybody was looking at
hem.
another variation of onr every day life
was this A lovely summer day chanced t >
bathe anniversary of my host’s birch, In
other words it was “papa's fete day. We
had been occupied as usual until ju-t before
dinner, whet,, as my host and myself were
talking together, madame beckoned me to
j >in her behind the house. “Ah! exclaimed
■ny host, turning away, “I know what that
means.” Obeying the summons, I found
madame distributing bouquets <o the little
group which bad assembled there out of
sight; two ea<h to her father, to the four
children and tha bonne, with two for myself
Forming in procession, with madame at the
head of it, we marched along in single fil to
the front of the bouse, where papa and
grandmere appeared, seated side by side, the
latter in her basket ebair. Shouting, laugh
ing and singing, the old and the young to
gether, we advanced in the highest glee
Mamma first presented her bouq lets, and
was affectionately embrace! by grandmere
,nd papa; and then each of the children In
urn p esented theirs, down to the bonne, all
being greeted al ke. After this the little boy
-rood hef< re his papa and recited •» fable in
French, which was followed bv one in E g
• ish recited hv his sister, and the ceremony
was over. We then seated ourselves at the
• able. Is It necessary to add that our dinner
was hilarious, aud that the d-y is an ever
‘•right one iu memory’s calendar.’
THE BACKWOODS.
FAMILIAR LETTERS.
■Setay Hamilton to Her Consin
Sjaleny -About Her Re-
tarn Home.
LETTER SO. 16.
Dear Saleny : Me and Buddy got home
safe and found ’em all enjoying the same
hi ess in’. We stayed all right thar tother
-ide er the river at old man S'mps-'nies. We
rid up about a nour by sun and Buddy hoi
lered, “Helloa,” and axed if we could stay all
n’ght. The old ’oman come to the door and
’lowed, “We hain’t in the inhabitants er
Cakin’ in travelers, but you ken come in if
you ken get in fer the trash.” “ Don’t let
vour dog bite,” says B tidy- “He’ll not bite
you.” says she; “he never bites nobody but
niggers, and that’s hekaze they sildom ever
c m s about. We do all our own work here,
JOII.Y ADlMS APPLEl’OL
TH0SE1DEART0RMENTS.
BYHEBLE JHJRRIE.
Summer’s golden days are slipping off the
thread of Time—vacation is nearly over.
These dear, teasing, mirth-provoking, absurd
college brothers'and cous ns have nearly run
through their precious hours of freedom.
Home they came looking so fair with the
impress of city life upon them. Eventhi
• •dor exhaled from their handkerchiefs seem
ed foreign and delicious, revealing to coun
try “crackers” that “cinnamy draps” were
not the ne plus ultra of perfumery.
Prowling about the house with a bored,
melancholy look at first, they soon grew ac
customed to the quiet dullness of our home-
life in the country. As days go by, their
hands renew acquaintance with the hoe or
plane and grow browner and less velvety-
i’heir cheeks of almost waxy pallor, take on
fullness and glow. But oh! what capabili
nes for teasing and mi-chii-f they develop!
Forgotten are city primnei-s and classic dig
nity as our Junior pursues the calf, “Bvron’'
in band, the leaves fluttering sadly. Such
races, such a headlong chase around the wide
yard, the juveniles scrambling in his 1 rain I
Appetites which at firstf halted over a but
tered oiscuit, now prompt the hiding of an
amazing chance of “grub,” from the S >uth-
ern stand-by, bacon and beans, and the
hoy's delight—nuttermilk and corn pone—to
the manifold goodies concocted by loving
tiands.
Tue cats have learned to evacuate when the
masculine foot is heard, for many times have
those neat gaiters fallen on poor kitty’s spin
al elongation in a iuanne io evoke “linked
liscord long drawn out.” The stately step
ping sultan of the poultry yard fears tocrow
eg somebody'-ha come sailing! r ugh the
air and c it sui rt 1 sqlf-gl ridoatioD.
I bear all patiently, however, unul the at
tack is begun on the tiabies; then I rebel. He
fastens them in the cl wet, box-w one's ear--,
upsets another. And in the midst of the
cuorus that ensues, he tilts back in a chair
and innocently proceeds to wade through
some crabbed looking Greek text. He jah-
tiers away until from sheer nervousness I
banish him to the shade out of doors.
These youths have many escapades stored
up tq rehearse when they reassemble at col
lege, They will then compare notes and eu-
liven the long autumn evenings with their
summer exploits.
One slender laddie is the N:mrnd of our
band. Gun on shoulder, and a black and
white spotted, small dog at his heels he starts
out daily with deadly intent against thegray-
coated jumpers But truth compels me to
own that boy, dog and gnn have furnished
tome savory game for the tai 1;.
And what dandies our collegians have
grown to bel In hobble de-hoy days they
could hardly be coaxed into a clean shirt.
N >w what an array of sdowv collars and
cuffs and neckties 1 Black silk regulation ties
t • suit a 11 n.d/ sky,figured lawn and clerical
looking white ones for the gala occasion « hen
they are anxious for an opinion noon the
relative becomingness of each. They no
longer invest their ‘bits” in gaudy neck
wear, Forsooth they can see farther than a
piece of rainbow silk now.
“The horizon lifts, the humble wall expands.”
To-day 1 lay these pretty bits of liuen fresh
from tne iron, upon thele i while I sort them
and think that vacation is nearly over—
think so with a sigh after all. Not many
more times this summer will 1 care for ttese
unimportant fractious of “the boys’ ” toilet.
Those of you who are living through a simi
lar experience with dear, mischievous broth
ers and cousins will know why 1 s'gh. whv
•ears come unbidden. We must give “Lhe
boys” up to strangers again, who cannot
know how dear they are to far-off homes. Iu
a few days those merry, blue eyes will be
smiling el-ewhere, and this pair of seriouq
dark eyes will be missing from the family
group. In some coming hour our dear m oh
er will give utterance to the popular feeling
of our borne band as she thinks of her boy.
‘How I do miss Cuarlie!”
and thank the Lord we ken.” Ever’thing
was as clean as maw’s fresh-scoured water-
bucket, and she knowed it when she named
about the tra-h I was monstrous glad we
stopt thar, fur I was plum tired. It looked
like Lou-i-z/ tried to see bow mean she could
trot over that rocky road ’twixs your house
and the river, and the j issle fetched all the
1 air pins out’n my back hair. M ss Simpson
was powerful civ! towards me, and give
me a plenty more to fix up my hair. She
handed us some drinkio’ water and sot out a
pan fur tu to wash, and taken oat a bran new
riaud wWwTSfRudd Jr to towel Ue hands air
ier be pat tip our ridia’ critters, I sot and
talked and got rested. She got up and went
out to git supper, and I walked around the
100m and had a good chance to see how nic'
she had it fixt. Hit was papered with ad
sorts er show picters, the prettiest I ever
•eed- Over the fire shelf was a picter of a
lion with a man’s head in its month, and thar
next to the d >or was the elephant, and over
the bed was the monkeys; hit fairly made
my mouth water to go to a show. The rest
er the room was papered with ever kind er
paper you ken think of, and advertisements
all in big letters, some rei and some yaller;
but they was mostly picters. Whar she ever
got ’em all, I don’t know; she must er been
gatherin' of ’em up ail her life; anyhow,
they was mightv pretty, and sot the room
off powerful. Toe ohillun all come er racin'
in from school. Sue ’lowed, “Go ’round
t'other way, you ain’t a gwiue to track up
my clean scoured fl >or, and don’t you trump
no mud in my kitchen, notber, fur hits scour
ed too.” The counterpin on her bed was the
honey comb draft, the prettiest I ever seed,
and the whitest. I never go nowhar but what
I see somebody I’ve seed afore. I wasn’t
a tbinkin’ a'wuo seein’ anybody thar that I
knowed The dogs sot in to barkin’, and
s me'wdy ho lered ‘Helloa!” and says I to
Buddy, ‘ S miehody else is benighted;” but
the dogs barked so, we c mldn’t hear nothin’
else. Miss S mpson, she run out’n the kitch
en and told 'em to “light and come in if they
could get iu fur the trash ” Tnen I seed er
’oman with a yaller huff muslin on gittiu’
out'n the waggin, and t’other ’oman had on a
Howerdy calico skirt and a black be.-que and
a white apron, and a blue chex sun bunnet.
1 knowed it was Caladony time 1 sot my eye
on her. 1 couldn’t make out who the ’omau
was th-t was with her tel I s»ed 'he man,
and who do vou reckin it was? Wliv, it was
George Washington Higgins and bis Cousin
Milly Acker. Tuey w n » a gwine with Cila-
dony over 'about Ashville summers, to a
camp meetin’. G orge hitched his critters—
he was drivin’ ablaz-—f*ce and a briudle.
The bln z —face was the off steer, and hit had
iieen mightv onruly, and be had skint his
hand on tie rope a drivin’ of him. He
’lowed be could er driv better if he could er
cus‘. ’em, fur they was used to bein’ hollerd at
and cust. and thev wasn’t used to a rope—he
alters driv ’em by hollerin’ at ’em, but he
couldn’c cuss ’em, bekeze the gals was with
him, hnd he was a gwine to a camp matin’
too, so he jist jerked ’em and hollerd at ’em,
“You old ar— 1 you old ar—1” and stopt
afore he got tjo the cussin’ part. You’d a
laughed to a beard him a telliu’ of it. C ila-
dony begged me to turn around and go back
to Sincler to the camp meetin’ with ’em, and
I But law sakes if yonder haint ole Miss
Green cornin’ in at the gate with all her
young ones at her heels. She’s bound to
spend the day, and I’ll jist have to break my
letter • ff short .nd tell you the balance when
I write next time. Your Hear consin,
Betsy Hamilton.
An Indianapolis rural ist seated himself in
a restaurant the other day and l«gan on a
bill of fare. After employing three waiters
nearly an hour iu bringing dcst es ;o him, he
called one of th-ra to him, heaved a sigh,and
whispered, as he put his fiugt-r onabulof
fare, “Mister, I’ve et to thar. aud”—moving
his finger to the io torn of the bill— ef it
isn't agin the rule I’d like to ,-k p from that
to thar.”
Cierok;e township, Yors countv, 8. C ,
has a iopsed the no fence law, by a vote of
2o5 tor, to 95 against.
Whitewashed liable*.
Chambers’ Journal gives an amusing ac
count of the incidents that followed upon a
South Sea Island missionary giving his cot
tage a coat of whitewash. The whitewash
had been obtained by burning a great heap
of lovely white coral, the natives standing
around and wondering what was being cook
ed.
Next morniDg, they beheld the mission
ary’s cottage glittering in the rising sun,
white as snow. T.iey danced, they sang,
they screamed with j >y. The who e island
wis in counuo iou. Whitewash became th-
rage. Happy was the 0 queue who coul 1
enhance her chat ms by a uaiib of the whtte
tirush. C • iteiitions arose. 0 le party U'g-
ed superior rank; a no her o’ltained p i-sessioii
of the brush, aim valiantly held it against a!
com-rs; a third tried to upaet the tub to < b-
Tain omeof the p'-eci U'cosmetic. To quiet
me hubbub, more whitewash was made, an ■
in a week, not a hut, a d nues c utensil, n
warelun, or a gum m, but w;-s as whi'e a'
now,no' an int ah taut bu r had hi- skin pain
ad with gr iterq ie figures, not a pig that wii
not wniteiied, and even in ithers ni ght lie
| seen in every direction, c p ring j >\ously,
j and jeibng with dehgtn at tne superior
i i.eauty of their whitewashed babies.
Oar Black Bonanza.
The Negro the Month's Corner
Stone—Northerner’s View of
the Slfnatlon.
The South is always last to find out her
own real wealth and slow to use it when oth
ers show it to her. She spumed for genera
tions our protective tariff, and had to learn
by the hard lesson of war what a nation with
out mechanics or manufacturers amounts to.
She dishonored white labor at home and sent
her cotton up North to be manufactured that
she might bay it back with a Northern profit
on it. To-day she is troubled about
the negro’s political tastes, and does not yet
see in him a wealth greater than ever was
her cotton or sugar or tobacco. At this mo-
inent the negro is the black sceptre through
which the South can rule the land, if there
are in the South white brains strong enough
ind white hands skilful enough to hold up
he sceptre. Just a. present, the one thing
vhich holds b ick this country in its wonder
ful career of development and prosperity and
etards its progress is the want of lat/or.
fnere are brains enough, and fori e enough
ind nerve enough in the North and West to
•urry out all the thousand enterprises which
-onstitute the “boom” of tnis day and tu
•Ian out and achieve a thousand more, but
he grand movement halts for want of labor,
"h-* stinn’v has given out—the demand has
e iiiansted it.
The South to day controls the labor field of
this land, and the power which enables her to
hold that commanding position is the de
spised negro. Under the crucial strain of the
la-t two years our contractors and companies
everywhere have been trying every possible
expedient to find and hold the labor that
they must have. They have tried the men of
everv ra-e, creed and color, and with re
mark tble unanimity their judgment is se‘-
tl ing down on the negro as the most avail
able and desirable and econotn'cal for the
rough work of railway construction, mining
and tunnelling, i. e.—the foundation-labor.
This is a judgment which has been estab
lished by fact, by the patient, silent experi
ment of years. In the course of inquiries we
find that large bodies of negroes from the
South have been taken up to Pennsylvania
and New York by contractors, worked there
tor months and returned to their plantation
homes. Seven hundred negroes from around
Staunton, Virginia, are now working in one
company’s mines in Minnesota, A Pennsyl
vania contractor is now in Colorado nego
ti iting with oue of the most vigorous and
prosperous railways there for a contract on
vhich be expects to take out and work two
1 housand negroes from the far South. Tne
engineer in charge of one of the largest en
gineering enterprises in Boston writes us.
The negroes have saved 11s.” They carri d
these negroes up from Virginia, bringing
them right across C istle Garden, and the im
migration ports of Baltimore, Pniladelphia
and Boston. Several Irish contractors have
old us they prefer the negro as a laborer to
I ueir own countrymen as tney are to be had
now* A contractor who worked them large
ly in Canada says they stand a rigorous win
ter better than the average imported labor
from Europe.
While the negro may not have the physi
cal stamina of some of the hardier races, he
iias moral q itlifica ions as a laborer which
or ing the results of his labor up to their
level He is patient, steady, faithful if well
created, and trusting. He dues not waste his
Force in strikes or sprees, and his saints’ days
lo not seriously eucroach on the volume of
the calendar. The hardy field negro if
Georgia and Mississippi, too, is something
vry different from the housed and enervated
negro of the N irth. Now, this being the
quality of this labor, see for a moment the
quantity, and how securely the South holds
t ie market for its supply against the world
AU' tne public improvements of onr ountry
for this century—our canals—our railways,
our huge piles of mas' mry — have been
• chieved by Irish labor. Butin our South
ern States there is a black Ireland, greater
in its wealth of sinew and muscle than the
GFeen Isle. The population of Ireland, by
the census of I881 (all classes, nobility, gen
try and traders. included), is but 5159488,
and diminishing. The black population of
he United Sates (almost exclusively a labor
clas*) bv the census of 1880 w as 6 577,407, and
increasing. Here is a new Ireiaud at our
very doors—with no sea to cr«)ss between it
and the boon of work—and with apparently
ndefiuite possibilities of development. Dur
ing the decade of 1870-80 the ratio of increase
< if the col ired population of the U lited States
was 34 78 per cent., a percentage greater th an
that of tne white race with all its artificial
iucreraent by immigration.
And having this excellent quality and this
generous supply of labor, the South is slid
furthi-r favored in being able, by causes ou -
side of herself, to securely hold the market
for some time to come against the world,
ran cost of the ocean passage—$30 at least—
•Derates as a protective tariff iu favor of the
Southern negro against all outside comers.
II is equivalent to an imp >rc duty of $30 per
head on every European labirer. Farther,
the lab >r field of the world,—or that portion
of it rather on which we can draw—is much
more limited and restricted than is common
ly supposed.
Snort of China, the labor field of the world,
for us, at the present moment, is barren and
limited. This is the S mth’s great opportu
nity. Labor, the foundatio . of all values,
is her staple. The negro, an economic bur
den under slavery, under freedom has be
come her cbiefest treasure. He has succeeded
to the throne of cotton. And just in this
fact lies the danger that the leadership of the
S >uth will not rise to the new situation. T ue
negro is the stone whic 1 the builders have
always persist;ntly reject'd in the South.
They might have made him the corner-stoue
of a sure political supremacy. Tney can now
make him the f oundation of social supremacy
and advancement. Will they? The South
at this moment, favored of God, has all the
material elements of future and near im
pending empire in greater abundance and
wealth than any section of this laud or of
anv other- Sue has raw materials, fertile
soils, untold ores and mines, coals, vast un
developed regions, ready means of transpor
tation, and labor.
Can she fuse them? The flux is brains.—
American.
EBONY CRAYONS.
SKETCHED BY BETSY HAMILTON
THE SIESTA—INTERRUPTED BY TWO LITTLE
DAB KIES.
“You Fate! you hear me nigger? Mis*
May say snet your niouf hollin so loud, she’s
tryin to go to sleep. You hear me nigger?
you aint tryin to stop dat fuss. Put dat old
tin-p in down, and let cat dog alone, dat’s
you rnakin’ him bark. Sbet your mouf, yon
aint bushin’ at all—quit dat beatin’ on dat
pan I Cole you. Now you done started mam
my’s baby to hollin—ho w you speck Miss
May to sleep? I’m gwine tell Miss May I
can’t make you stop dat noise. I done hol
lered, and hollered at yon, and you dess
wont hush. Miss Mayl M.ss May!—Oh!
Miss May! Faie d"*< keeps oa wid his fuss—
l dess been hollin and bollin at him and he
wont hush—he’s beatin on dat old pan and
inakiu’ de d ig bark, and he done drove dat
-peckle chickeu off’n her ness, and she’s dess
a cacklin aud a cacklin, and he done hit
naromy’s h iby now and s arted hit to cry-
iii’—too. 1 lay mammy's gwiue heat him
•no-ttodef when she comes. You Fate! I
one tola Miss May on you. L it Pete alone
1 tell you—stop dst makiu him cry—never
• it nd. I'm gwine to make mammy beat you
in >st to del boy. How yon speck Miss May
:u sleep ?”
An exuberant youth hailed a supposed ac
quaintance with “H;lln, J>e!” but, finding
ms mistake, added, “Oa, excase me; 1
bought you were another man!” Laconic
stranger answered, "I am. ”
A Contretemps.
BY FANNIE MAY WlTT.
“Pooh! ‘tears in my eyes V Don't chafe me, old
boy I
That's a thing, friend, remember, that Jew can
enjoy.
I am trying to 'muster my forces' to-day.
For to morrow t must from these mountains
awsy.
Life’s passed like a dream since I drifted here,
Czar;
But tears in my eyes?’—it is your cigar!
The sight of your face, this daisy-starred plain,
Bring hack a dead past, one thick-strewn with
pain—
It brings back keen these blue outlines of Kent—
This weed my poor wits a woolgatheriug has sent.
And my eyes, how they smart! Czar, hold on a
minute,
This smoke is so str mg; the de'il must be in it I
How perfect this scene! You remember the alps.
Doing which vour lordship' took so many scalps?
’Twas grand ! but this is more glorious, far,
E'se I am indebted to this fine cigar.
ah, love-lilted Alps! there's a sting in your heel;
The ieo of your glaciers round my heart congeal.
“Don't jest, Czir, on that: the wound is still sore;
The Alps and my love are todies of yore;
I have dug her t grave deep down in my heart
You cannot the stone from the sepuleh-r part,
Though you tremble and j ir it with each joking
breath—
**A countess?” “-Yimportc, she sleeps here in
death.
“Can you solve me a problem. Czar, just on this
score:
Whv are some men so confoundedly poor.
Though they bead every energy, strain every
nerve
To gaiu what some roll in who do not deserve?
and why will a woman with soul fair as day
Barter it for—for a 'count' popiuj ay ?
When I left you—the party—I went jback to
work
Witn a Heart far too gladsome longer to shirk:
May had pledged me her troth; 'twasin Val Mas-
si no
On the devil’s own rock, Sasso di Remeno.
You remember, old friend, huw I took you one
side.
To intrust her to you, my fair English bride? 2
“I worked like a Trojan those hot summer days:
You sc treely c an gr isp what au antitheses
Those days to the heaven ones spent on Bell Alp
With her whom I worshipped—all that is past
help!
And so it the rest. Suffice it to say
Tnat when the blow fell in oblivion I lay.
She married le count, they tell me. last year.
Which one ot the party I cared not to hear;
The title fell lo him, and, womanlike, she
Forgot that she ever was p ighled to me.
You sty— et me think-Hod! No; I'm not faint:
Thev a-> this season doing the blue hills of
Kent?*
•We part here. Am glad to have met with you,
Csar;
a haud-c'asp, a chat, and a friendly cigar
H ive made me a foot. I am going away
With a c irse oa them both! ;Eh ? what did you
say?
Don’t curse them ? Who's that coming? 'Tis she,
true as lire!”
“It is she; allow me—la comtcsse. my wife I”
—N. Y. Saturday Journal,
RANDOM NOTES
Of a Personal, Modal and Gos
sipy Character.
Boston book-store clerks calling for Mr.
Hepworth’s new novel with the three excla
mation p >ints for the title, pronounce it
‘Rah! Rah! Rah!’ ^
Ksv. J. C. Rissell, of Fort Mill, 8. C.,
has invented a carriage, sulky and buggy
combined. Several own bedsteads tnat are
a little buggy.
Mrs. Helen M. Gongar, of Lafayette, Ind.,
h*s assumed the editorial chair of Our
Herald, the advocate of temperance and
-qual snff -age. Sae has a talented corps of
contributors.
Dean S-vaoloy’s last literary work was a
paper on F. W. R ibertsou. which is to ap
pear in Scribner's Monthly as soon as the edi
tor is able to (i ii anybody te decipher the
Dean's manuscript,
A, C Liwrence lost $100,000 iu bonds in
New York the other day, by their slipping
through a hole in his pocket. The bole in the
pocket would indicate that Mr. Lawrence
was a newspaper man; bat the $100,000 in
bonds is against such a theory.
It is stated that a Yankee genius has in
vented a clock which, in accordance with the
spirit of the times, indicates the hours of the
•lay by firing off a revolver, instead of strik
ing upon a bell as usual For one o’clock one
barrel of the revolver becomes discharged;
for two o'clock two barrels, and so on, up
to twelve; there being two revolvers required,
with six barrels to strike the hours of
noon and midnight.
In the sage-brusu section of Nevada lived a
poor family consisting of husband, wife and
a little boy. The nearest neighbor was a
wealthy b achelor, who roughed it on one of
tie best stock farms of the St ate. One night
about a month ago the bachelor ran off with
his neighbor’s wife and came E 1st, but to
what city is unknown. Instead of following
the destroyer of his peace the hush and weut
over to the stock farm, took possession and
there holds sway. Tae community has deci
ded that he shall not be molested, and that
every herd of the bachelor’s cattle by right
belongs to the injured poor man. Wnat this
.-t >ry lacks in detail it makes up in truth.
Mr. John Raine Throckmorton recently
died in Mississippi, aged 65. He was a man
of strong character, somewhat impulsive but
generous, and a good companion. He was
born in Kentucky and for many years made
his home at L misville, where he played a
prominent part in business affairs. He was
passionately fond of racing, and his form was
well known on the quarter-stretch at L -xing-
ton, L misville and Nashville. He was a
quarterm ister in the Mexican war, and was
011 the staff of Gen. John C. Breckenridge
during the first year of the rebellion. The
dark romance of his life was the silent pur
suit of him by a woman who loved not wise
ly but too well. No matter where he went,
her pale face and her pleading eyes confront
ed him. Her persecution threw a cloud of
melancholy over him at times. Mr. Throck
morton’s last financial ventures were unfor
tunate, and he died poor, but .widely regret
ted.
Phillips Brooks, in his late memorial ser
mon of Dr. Vinton, gives an account of the
latter’s conversion. He was driving about
the Poinpbret hills, a young, raw-boned, big-
limbed, skeptical physician, when a judicious
friend persuaded him to read “Butler’s
Analogy.” This book satisfied his reason.
Intellectually he was no longer a skeptic. He
was called to attend a little girl dying of con
sumption. She whispered she had something
to Bay to him, but was afraid. When en
couraged to say it she confessed that it relat
ed to his being at peace with God, and added,
“To-morrow morning, when I am stronger,
I will tell you.” To-morrow morning she
was dead. The interest he felt in knowing
what the little girl would have said to him,
led him to thinking that resulted in experi
mental piety.
A New Orleans Kce Factory.
When we enter an ice factory in this city
of the Gulf, and are admitted to a freezing
room, the intense cold of its atmosphere first
impresses as, then the small heaps j of snow
lying arouni, and at last the shining mass
or s did ice, made up uf blocks sixteen f.-et
high, thirty long, and over a foot thick.
Tnese immense cakes are frozen on plates of
-teel, which are hollow, pipes containing the
• reezing agent (ammonia) running through
ih-rn. Tue water falls in drops from the
ceiling, and freezes as it falls, thus forming
the imm use blocks. In another freezing
room th -igbt was beautiful beyond descrip
tion, unnumbered columns of ice, sixty feet
high, o 1 a frozen fl x>r, while from above
came splashing drups of water, failing as
steadily as summer rain. These icicles sur
round hollow iron colnmns, through which
the ammonia pass-s, and freezes the falling
water that comes f • om the roof. The icicles
in a week or two unite, and in a little longer
time they form a solid block of ice two
i housand tons weight. This is then cut by
ice plows and saws into blocks fit for sale.