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TEC ROWERS
W*"" ^TJtU.
Jl>a," she paid tob
so considerate. I '
wou.d
VOLUME XVII.—NO. 794.
PRICE: 82.00 A YEAR IN ADVANCE.
"■ —— ■■■ ■ ■»—n.i gj3KJH
ATLANTA, GA, SATURDAY MORNURG. MARCH 21. 1891.
—.————————■——im —
THE TRUm OF HISTORY.
Tbe First Confederate Gun of
the War.
A Question Often Repeated, and
Almost Without Exception
Erroniously Answered.
For the Sunsy South.
HO fired the first son
I in tbe late war? Who
fired the first gnn op
’ on Fort Sumter?
Tnese inquiries recur
continually, one or
the other of them,
and sometimes they
come broadside.The re
ire yet living a few
witnesses to both
events, but these seem
to have despaired of
obliterating the pop
ular errors into which
the public mind of the country has been
led by cyolopedias and like works which
arrogate to themselves an authenticity
to which they have no shadow of title.
A writer to one of onr daily papers re
cently inquired: “Who fired the first Con
federate gnn in the war?’’
In reply, the editor reproduced the
folowlug from “Appleton’s Cyclopedia
of Biograp Ty:”
“Ruffin, Edmund, agriculturist, born
in Urine** Groige county, Virginia, Jan
uary 5, 1794, died on his estate of R d-
mo ir,lu A • eiia county, Virginia, June,
1865 In 1810 he attended William and
Mary col'e^e. He served in the legisla
ture, was secretary of the board of agri
culture (?), agr'culiurai surveyor of South
Carolina, for many years w-.s president
of tbe V rginia Agricultural Society,and
was tbe discoverer of tbe value of inari
as a fertilizer of poor soil, by tbe use of
which millions of dollars were aided to
the value of the real estate ef eastern
V.rglui*.
“He was a state-rights man and a se
cesBiunist, and was a m> mberof tbe Pal
metto Gu-irri, < f.S-uti Carolina. At tne
beginning of the civil war he went to
South Carolina, and by order of General
Beauregard his company was ordered to
open fire on Fjrt Sumter, atd as the
oldest member be was selected by Ms
comrades to fire the first shot, April 14,
1861.”
The question, “Who fired the first gun
of the -ir.” or its co-oUcry. as we it/e
said, has been assed uunoreds of times,
and in no instance cccurricg under tbe
eye of the writer has either been cor
rect'y answered in print.
The venerable Eamund Ruffin was a
noble-hearted, patriotic Virginia gen
tleman, respectedtnroughoutthe United
States and revered by Virginia ai d South
Carolina. It is in no spirit of detraction
that he is placed where be belonged in
the early incidents of tbe civil war, in
which his noble, seif-tacriflcing services
were thoroughly appreciated by tbe
South. It is a fact, nevertheless, that
notorious errors or record that pass cur
rent in our time must go down to the
future in the malformed state in which
we p* rmlt them to survive; and there is
no exc .se for this.
The mast slue udous civil war of the
world, involving migbty feats of arms
aud minions t f Jtv- s, has been begun
and ended id our own country aud with
in our own generation; yet there has
been no momentous eveut in the modern
annals of the world important incidents
of which hate been men combated as to
their lacis, more garbled as to their de
tails, more misstated as to thuir obj :cts,
or more falsified as to their results.
T e Southern people bave so long been
S atrons of tbe popular literature of the
>rtn that they nave come to accept,
whether tee same were spurious or not,
Northern (aud nece.sBtil y binstd) ac-
C jU t - of wsr events here no tne fcjout i,
and even of our own practical part in
those occurrences. This is d piorabie,
o course.
Quite apart from the political shading
Wnicn Uiignt be cupe-ittd to ii fiuence
our war chronicles whetuer they nua
Date irom the one or the other sec ion
iuvo veJ in tbe tre»t struggle, the feet
remains tuat as to ttioao niatiers \v lea
comainei no political tiuciure, but
were c iloriess 'ruin.-—in these at least—
great cureought to havt been observed
by rep ita ile oioiriphors and c>cop -
dians to incuiporaie incont.stable state-
men.s.
Tne foregoing extract from “Apple
ton s Cyciopeoia’ is so glaringly lncor
reel as to render that work utterly value
less as an autnoiily on tbe point which
the writer hopes, in behalf of tne truth
of history, to help to set at rest. N..r,
indeed, Is “Appleton’s Cyclop dla” being
invidiously Instanced as an tx-option to
tbe general class of works which claim
for tnemselves reliability ss Itxis of
popular reference, the :sct btiog that
we know of no punished cyclopedia of
tbe cay which can entirely e a .d the
test when confr rated oy survivors who
witnessed well known and wla-ly ceie
brated contemporary war incidents or
were personally associated with their
facts. This is especially the case with
reference to tbe South, and etui more
especially true of those occurr races in
this section. We have read, lor ia-
stanc . In one American “cyclopedia”
that “Stonewall’’ J ctson “took bis
name from the stone walls behind which
his men fought in tbe vallty;’’ in an
other “cyclopedia,” also American, we
find nim caned “Jackson, Thomas Jef
fersot-; ’ in another Lev is called ' Robert
Edward.” etc Some there may be
wbo will consider these as merely trivial
blued' rs. Weil, in a tuousaud years
Doe will be quite aa well remembered as
Napoleon Bonaparte; aud it would be a
pitiable peace of biographical lolly if
ten centuries bad been comounded by a
publication which, by carelessly mis
naming bim, bad cast a grave uncertain
ly over tbe wtaoie history of hia time.
Now, as to the troth of history. Toe
fiist gun of the war was fired, a little af
ter daylight, on the morning or January
9. 1861 f ora Battery A, on Morris Island,
inann d by a detachment of cadets from
tne Military Academy In C' arl ston, 8.
C. That gun was aimed acmes tne bow
or tbe steamer 1 Star of tbe West,” then
•tte-i p l g to enter the harbor to pro
vision and reinforce Fort Sumter That
was moretban three months before tne
Attack on tbe fort.
Nor did Mr. Edmund Ruffin fire the
first gu-i upon Fort Sumter. Nor was
tbe Oral gun fired at Fort Sumter on
April 14. N r was the first gun fired from
Morris l-'and. Tbe last gun was fired
on April 13 Nor w«s this gun fired by
Mr buffiu. Nor was it fired from Mor
ris I eland.
Tbe first gnn discharged at Fort Sum
tor was a mortar carrying a ten-inch
shell, ard it was fired from Fort Joun-
son, on James Island. Mr. Rnffiu wsa
on Morns Island.
This discharge was the signal for tbe
bombardment wbicb followed. I> was
Well calculated, exploding a few hundred
feet above tbe fort Tbst was at 4 30
o’clock oa the morning ot April ll 1861.
Mr. Ruffin was with the Palmetto
Guard at aa experimental Iron battery.
' constructed of dove-tailed railroad iron
, (the first iron battery ever engaged in
. var), on a small cape of Morris Island
J beach called Cummlng’s Point, tbe lo
| cation being on the “land” side of Fort
Sumter. As no attack had ever been ex
pected from that quarter, tbe fort was
unprovided with embrasures for ord
Danes. Major Anderson, commandant,
bad, therefore, to mount canDon on tbe
psrapet in order to confront tbe iron
battery; and it was tbe express object of
the gunners at tbe latter to dismount
these parapet guns To do this it was
certainly essential that they shoo'd be
distinctly seeD; and as it was earlier
than daylight when the storm of action
began, tbe Palmetto Guard (with Mr.
Edmund Ruffir) were compellt d to await
almost sunrise before their artillery
could be aimed with accuracy. Hence,
about 7 o’clock the iron battery opened,
with three eight-inch columbiads, two
42-pounder naval pieces and one 12
f ound-r Whitworth r fie steel cannon.
he latter was tbe very first i ifled cannon
ever used in actual warfare. It had
reached tbe city from Liverpool only a
day cr two before the action, and with
it were sent but twelve cartridges.
These were meant only to serve as
medals for necessary ammnnitloc; but
there was not time to make others. Ac
cordingiy, the twelve shots were used
against Fort Su-nter. O' these Mr. Ed
mund Ruffin, aimed and discharged the
first—nua perhaps cthere.
This possibly accounts for the popular
error wnion has assigned to bim the dis
tlnction of having’ fired the first shot of
tbe war.”
Thsre was another patriotic act per
formed by Mr. Ruffin, no account of
which appears in the cyclopsdlas or bl
ographits, but which undoubtedly be
longs to the authentic class of thnse
publications. Mr. Ruffin did fire the very
last gun at the first battle of Manassas.
He was still wun the Palmetto Guaid,
carrying a rifle, but on account of his
age ana infirmities was unable to keep
up ou the march to Cub Run in nurmit
of the fleeing F.di rals. He rode upon a
gun canisge, however. At tbe bridge
over that stream—both bridge and
stream being obstructed by ambulanc- s,
artillery, wig>n-, arms, head men and
de-.d borses and every description of
wreckage—tbe Confederate pursuit had
to cease. But Captain Delaware K.m
per, of Alexandria, Va , with two pieces
of Ms brass six pounders, determined to
give the enemy a parting sbot. As the
sun was fast linking behind the thick
woods which sceltered the panic
stricken troops of McDowell, Eemper
opened suedeniy with two discharges in
rapid succession Mr. Ruffin pulled the
laniard of the second or these. There
was no firlDg on either side after this—
these resounding shots having scaeler
ated the apt el of the routed hosts.
We do not recall the name either of
the effiaer at Fort Johnson who fired the
signal mortar for the bombardment, cr
o; the cadet who touched off the first
gun at the Star of tbe West; bnt in tbe
first instance the writer stood beside
Mr. Ruffiu*hel£ft mile away jrpm Fort
other Mr. Ruffin had not, we believe, ar
rived in South Carolina.
M. B.
Speakers of the House.
Speaking of speakers, it may be re
marked that, inoluding Mr. Retd,thirty
one different mei have been elected to
fill the chair of the National House of
Representatives. The first speaker was
F. A. Muhlenberg, of Pennsylvania
Sixteen or the speakers held the post -
tton for one term only. Four speakers
s<rved three terms. These were, Nath
anfel Macon, of Nortn Carolina, 1801-
1807 Schuyler C lfax, 1861-U69 James
G Blaine, 1869-1875, and Jinn G. Car
lisle, 1883-1889 Henry Clay was accord
ed the distinction of being elected
speaker six times, first in 1811, in the
Twelfth Congress, and then in the
Thirteenth, Fonr:eenth, Fifteenth, Six
teei th and Eighteenth Congresses One
speaker, James K. Polk, became Presi
dent Tnr-.e others, Henry Clay, John
Bell and James G. Biatne, were nomi
nated foi the Presidency but faiUd of
election. Mr. Colfax was e ected Vice-
Presideat. Says the B ston Herald:
T ie speakership has been held by
K utucklans twenty-four years. Mas
suchuset's has had our sp; akers, tne
same numb: r as Kentucky, but they
only held it tea years. Virginia has h id
f >ur speakers, wh<>, like tbe lour fro-u
Massachusetts h 11 theoffice ten years.
T.‘e great State o N-iwYork has fur
nished but one speaker, who held it for
oi e wtra e terra and part ol another.
Onto bad it out one term, and Illinois
never furnisurd a speaker. In ft c , dur
ing t ho century a..a more of the na ion s
hi-lory, omy four eei S.ates have 3.0a
honor' d wlca the brato v*l of this post
tion upon their seas. If t e geographi
cal sections are considered, tbe South
hns had the lion's share. F"oriten
S.ratber.i men have held the iffice of
Speaker, while New England has bail
seven, 'he Middle Srstea six and the
great W st four, it is very doubtful
whether New E igland will ever furnish
another sp-aker of the National House
of Rupresmtetives. The South is very
likely to secure the pr z 3 sguln frequent
ly ai d will bo the great rival of the
West in such matters.
The Room of the Invalid.
The invalid's world is bounded by the
four walls of his room, and the veriest
trifle occurring within its limits is of
iar more importance to him than the
most stupendous events of the outside
universe. A picture hanging awry
makes him thoroughly miserable; a
twisted rug or a misplaced chair causes
discomfort. If his room is stlfl and hard,
badly arranged, or dingy, creation to
him is shiouded in gloom.
Any one waiting on an invalid knows
how the monotony of meals taken in
bed destroys the appetite and induces
disgust of the most delicate fare, and
this in ipite of ail the care whion can be
taken to make the appointments of the
table dainty, and the bed clothing pret
ty and bright aa well as perfectly pure
and sweet. In the same way tht embel
lishments of an invalid s room will be
come hateful to nim, aud the daily sight
of tbesame furniture and wallpapers
burden greater than he can bear. At this
state of weakness and enforced idleness
tbe strong man cries ont more than
against bearing the most acute pain. It
might, then, be a good idea to introduce
occasional changes, as far as possible,
into the room orthe sufferer. To bring
In new articles of fare it are, and remove
those already there to other ports of tne
house. That the furniture la older or
not so handsome is slight matter; It is
new acd interesting to the weary * yes
watctlng irom the bed. A fresh table
will b«-corae quite an object of curiosity,
and afl’oid conversation for days; and a
differently shaped bureau will be an ex
citing alrcnmstar C3.
A 1 ovel arrangement of chairs or pie
tores might have a g od effect,and often
an entire change of mantel ornaments
would be a perfect godsend to the sensi
tive nerves on which the old ones have
grated so long.—Harper's Baser.
I thought yon told mo you father wae
a retired merchant?
So ho ie. When the sheriff took pos
session he had to retire.
OFFI
TEXAS
COWBOY
A LOVE STORY OF UNUSUAL AND AB
SORBING INTEREST;
Author t.f ‘Bootle’s Baby,”‘ Beautiful Jim,” “Buttons,” “The
Other Man’s Wife, Etc.”
CHAPTER I.
The crowded court was hushed and
quiet—not a soul moved so much as a
Huger. Tbe Judge, grave and stern, sat
motionless—keen eyed counsel were on
the alert—fashionable ladies held their
breath, while in some lovely eyes the
scalding tears rose and fell fast over
lovely cheeks, ont of pity for the un
speakable anguish on the face of the fair
girl at the barrister’s table below.
The awful stillness lasted but fora
moment, and as the jury began to fi e
into their box, a sound between a shiver
aud a Bob crept through the court, and
all eyes turned toward those who had
come to bring the verdict which, to three
lives in that place, would be of far graver
import than if it weie one of life or
death.
And oh! what agonized faces did the
thrte principal actors in the drama turn
in the direction of the jery—the wife and
busbar d and he who had leeu the chosen
friend of both! The wife but a couple of
hours ago had stood forth and, denying
the charges against her, had in a c ok
ing voice dec.ared that she had never in
all her life given word or thought of love
to any man except her husband; the hus
band had given h:s ivldeuce unwiliiagiy
nough, yet his very hesitation had
carried conviction with it to mere than
one half sympathetic heart, eouv.ctlou
of the wife's guilt, that is.
Afier her had come the third actor in
the pitiful drama, and be had stood up
like a man, hotly denyiug that he bad
ever wronge 1 his frie d or his friend's
wile by a look, by a word, by a tuought,
and bad ooluly declared that the fetal
letter which his friend bad opened had
COLONIAL “CRACKERS."
first, and no newspapers ultil after 1700
There was little to cccopy tin mind ex
cept the Sunday sermon.
In a : l the colonies peoije were very
fond of dancing-parties; Weddings
were times of great excrement ard
often of much drinking. I| some of the
colonies wedding festivlttj were coo
tinned tor sevora' days, wen funerals
were occasions of feastiif, and some
times of excessive crinvg. In the
Middle end 8 utherncofo.-ps the people
were fond of horse racing,Sock fighting
and many other rude sdr s brought
f. ora England New Eiglar.d people
made toeir militia traiuiigs the occi-
s'o s for feRstii g aud amusement, fight
iug sham btt-'ts, and >la;ing many
Did Miss DeGraferreid G-.t Her In
spiration Here?
The following paragraphs, from Bg
gleston’s “History of the United S'.ates,’’
portraying tbe homely methods in coin
moo of the American colonists, possibly
afforded the author of the “Georgia
Cracker in the Cotton Millss” partial
foundation for the Century fiction. The
two read so alike that “the deadly par
allel” might with propriety be brought | ruugh7i.ld fashioned - games.'
to bear upon portions of them: I » ——
When people first came lo this coun OMI Y A HAIPPH
try, they ad to take up w.tu such! U\LI ft nrtlrrll.
huu-enasthey coula get Iu Virginia 1 , t
aud New Eugmnd, us iu Ne,v Yors aud Women Can Do More Wih it Than
Putlad* Jpliia, hoks weft* Dug ia t ie
groutd for dweiiiu^-p'aoes by sum* of
ltie settlers, in *caie p i.ee? bars
wigwikina wtre m rde iia© tjiomo of tne
inclans. Souittiuir-s * rune cabin wm3
Dull j of round loas, atd w>ttioui a ll mr.
As time a. v nee*.!, Le.ier Uousch were
nuiit. dome of tlier-e were oi be .ed
logs, some of p a Jis, split or S i-veti out
bj band Tbe r cbe. peop
nouse^ boon a Lt
Man W.th Any One ,hing.
A woman can do more wih a hairpin
than p man cu do with any^ns instru-
m-.nt ii< exlstenoe.
S ie t.akis it to button ho sho s, to
Du.11 good ® rl P l ier hair, to fastt n.hclhat on, and
ey u*uie. Mu.-t of ( ieu psr 'ov) to scratch hor i ai,
WELL-KNOWN SAYINGS.
The Origin of Some Phrases That
Have Become Proverbial.
the.e hat in the luid.ue a isiga room,
called “me nail.’
Tue ctimn-.ys were generally very
largt, with wide fiiepiacen. S./O-etlu ei
tht ie were seats inside tie fireplace, an<l
unllureu, Blttii-g ■ 11 these seals m the
evening, amus. d tutn.se ves by waten-
ihg the s.ats turohgh the tu^ of the
imuey. Intneesily Houses most oi
the wiudows had pa^er instead ot giass.
This paper was ol uti, eo as to let jignt
come . hrougii
To buitou her grates am Ihe waist
buttons of her dr. sS. to pin Hr veil, to
manicure her nails; and, aia.' s melicues
to pick uer t eth.
To c eau her comb, ar.dto cul the
pasted lab 1 on her powdtt box Aud
sob can use it as a p»P‘r nife, or a
hook m.rk; to o; e 1 1 ieneCor to draw
a fit vie upon a seal
if she t wieti the ends, ittb.comes
tapt-i.e< dib, or a la’t-ty pin or a key
ring. It is a veiy decent boa in.
in an emergency, it is as ood as an
ordinary p:u; bet’er, in fueler it can
b. m - tie lo do double duty.
I: -upp.ies many of the ifcillg intri
cacies o- bi calls, suspend* and sup
Ex. ept iu the houses oT rich people
the furniture was scent aud rougu.
Be- ches, s'ouis a .d l-b es wore home
mace. Reds were often U 1-0 witu rals-
t etoe, the do *a fiom cat-tail IKge, or
the feathers of wild pig ous. People
who were not rich brouut their food to ,—-
tne table in wooden troueners, or ira ; s, i peri., r.; ai d rtp ii'S any uaiagea 00
and ate off wooden pl.tes. Some used n.estlc arfeie r» quiring a i v iucues of
square blocks of wood luotsaa of pltus. wire and a little feminine igeuntty.
Neither rich nor poor, rn England or 1 A womao traces a pat erlwith a halr-
Araerica, had forks when tte first colo- ! pin oippsd m her sho.-blcsing; aua,
nies wire setth d. Meat was cut with a Bmokm in tbe gas, she nselt to pencil
knife and eaten <rom t >e fingers. I hir _ythrows.
Cooking was done in frontof fireplaces ! if 00 one is looking she use It for
in skillets and ou griooits tuat stood a nuipiik; and if her bn40ld is not at
upou tegs, so tLat cu«is couid oe put un- j home, she will take It t.» ebu his pipe
o.rthem, and in pots ana acttles mat orcgar^lte noider
hung over the fire on a swinging crane, I And if oe Is at boms, an )*'L er ,“ e
so that they couid oe drawn ou. or push ; br.ken nis pocket khi'ejaud hnnted
ed back. Bometlmes there was an uveu, helpi- ssly all overthe houkfor a “piece
lor baking, ouilt in tne side of tne cbiin I of wire,” she will draw tib# sirpln wttn
ney. Meat was roasted ou a spit iu trout : a pitying loos, and cnarlut ti e gas
ot tne fire. Tne spit was an lrou rot i burner, or r. open the wasl pipe 01 the
throst turocg i the piece to be roasted : a atior-ary bowl.
and turned oy a crauc. a wio.ie pig or j Ho w often la the fcairpi the hidden
fowl was sometl ra=s hung np b.fere me 1 power that holds back to< lace window
fire and turned about wniie it oasieu. cur ain or poises tbe autm 1 leaf wreath
Often pieces of meat were broiled by i ou the edge of tne pic urs ame.
throwing them on the live coals. How often does it rep * ike lost rur
A mug of homo-ore* ed oeer, with ' nttare pin in the vaient or lambre-
br. ad aud cheese, or a porridge of p^as quin , ..
or heats, boiled-vim a utile meat, cm j A long, stoat hairpin p’fd over ice
Btitated tue breakfast of toe ear.y coio ‘ stem ot me door knot, wi IBs prongs
1 ists Neither tea nor coffee was known ' throngs the handle of the >y, will make
in E gland or this country uulii long a timid woman feel aeout against that
after me first colonies were settled. I “ever-expect'd burglar.’
When tsa c.me in, it b came a fasutuua I a woman ca t u-e a nal: In as a corn
bie drink, and was served to cuap.ny ' sere » lor any kind of oots she cares to
from pretiy littls chi ..a cups, set ou iac> 1 op-n . , k .
quered tabL-s. Mush, it.ade of ludian i E * r r» ady to her hand whether sne
corn meal, was eat n for sapper. | uses it to pick her trui look, to trtra
Our forefatUers travel d about in ' a ismo »!«*, ortoine. d 0 bracelet,ane
can.)'s and little sailiug eoafe called bai dies it with a dextroi grace and a
shallops. Most of tbeoauoes wuu.d uo d coi fl.ient skill that are bi > cl Innerllel
a-out eix men, out s. me were lar*e fcr-o« ledge and educatei by loug-prao
enough to hold forty or mure F r a tleeC lie.
loog time mete were n.j r ><a. • xcept i . « - - ——
Indian trails ana midie-patus, wnt. n Vn have an ill iayonrbill,'
coulu only be traveled on foot cr on I r,,lent , nhave fin * .
horseback Goods were c-rr.ea ou pack "Aivc-, January 8 f5 ant was tne
horses Wh.-u roads wpre made wagons 6*y ntfir*- I r*?Uin«o
cimo into ut-.©. i boow it. B^don’t yon re-
In a it e to bard ar d Susy as that of ! member ou tbe 8:0 I told >u you’d bet-
the ear y setrlera. mere was little time lat me take tne case 1 yon?
for eduction Tbe .em.oie w ie few v V
and generally pior B >ys, when taught ! Client— !•».
at all, learned .oreaa, ~ii.e ai d-‘east
accounts.” Oir s were taught even lass.
Many of tbe children bora waeu the c >1-
onles were new grew up unable to write
their names. There were few books at
La wysr—WslI, that’s sjlos.
Tbs Btblopiaa, like tbfsssrt flowsr,
to “bora to Mask aaa
It will be feund on examination that
most sayings may he tracked back to a
literary origin. What more common,
popular maxim is there than -‘Prcciasti-
nation is the thief of time?” Yet it is
the first line of that most deadly dull of
books, Young’s “Night Thoughts.”
Crowds of people have been befooled in
imagining that “The Lord tempers the
wind to the shorn lamb” is a Biblical
saying, yet it is only as old as Sterne’s
‘S ntimental Journey.”
Everybody knows about the man who
read “Hamlet” at an advanced age end
said he wcu’d have liked it if ii had not
been so nd of ‘ ch< stnuts.” The feci ia
t «t a gr._at part of tc hav become pro
verbi>d, and so common property. We
no longer have to re«d the p ay to irn
b bo a rat 01 i s pi.il. seq hy, lor it is
fi otiug iu the air ahoac us'
On the 01 her hind, seme savings cn
deuntediy have a popu.ar origin. A
spl-iidra ex .mp!e of the evo ulioa of
one occurs m tut old t tla . e.. t, in the
hiscury <’f Saul. Whe . Cue fu.ura dr.^t
King of ibr.-.ei appeared am ,-ng tue
prophets the people we.'a isoolshed.
Hi- had oeea of a ratter frivo o.g oispc-
sitiou. So ne man iu the crowd ex
claimed: “ s Saul also a nong the
propeets? ’ Toe expression caught on,
ana it has been a familiar saying ever
since.
We have among onrselv.s a very good
example of tbe same sort in the expres
ston: ‘ A good enough Morgan tilla:ter
election.”
A dffi uify hero meets us. How is it
that among Eastern iliit-rate nations
proverbs ot the most perfect form and
literary finish ere found? The same
state of attain occura in Spain.
The explanation lies in the fact that
in both canes the people are sble to get
at llt< rature vicarious y. In P raia and
tbe East generally the professional
story-.etler comes to a village. In the
evening tbe inhabitants sit round the
tent, and be teils th.m tales, many of
them thonasnds of years oid and fall of
the condensed wisdom of ages. In Spain
tbe muleteer wbo wanders abr-at the
coantry fills exactly tbe same position,
and to tbe literature popular z ,-d by bim
must ne largely attributed the richness
of Spanish In proverbs.
Tuny Weller was tbe proverb 1 pinner
of tne Pickwick crowd. He got his fac
ulty iu the very same way that the Span
isb molt teer and the Persian s'ory teller
got tneim. He met a great many people
m hia trips on the coacn. and bis say
ings got sharpness and clearness of cat-
line wltn every fresa repetition No
doubt many of them were retailed by
countless appreciative hearers.
In tbe same way, the Jarvey in the
soatb of Ireland is by nature a manufac
turer of pt 'Verbs. He ia a part of all
that I e has met, and, aa action and reac
tlon arc equal and opposite, all tha, he
h -a met become a part of him.
W Men a proverb has gained a sore
place in one language, and strikes some
observercf a d.ffereut race aud civLize
tion, tnere ia a difficulty about trans
porting it bodliy. I: it be Eastern it
will bave a re erence that wilt not, for
Instance, appeal to Westerns. What
tnen happens is that it is localized
It is treated in tbe very way that
names are altered iu a good storv to give
it local co'or. Iu this way an Eastern
proverb about a camel becomes a West
ern one a bunt ahorse, and soon.—New
York Bon.
over the Im mediate future. For the rest
1 cannot tell you, for I do Dot know my
self what I ani going to do.”
‘ But in the time to come, if you should
want help o' any kind.” said Sir John
earns stiy, “you willoome to me. Prom
ise me that you will. My poor child,
you have never known wuat it is to bat
tle with the bard work; you will find it
so much easier and lighter if yon have a
fr'.e ;d that you can trnet. You will
come to me if you are in any kind o'
difficulty, won’t ycu? You will let me
know where you are, what you are do
log? Th re are so many ways in v. h’.cb
a man can help a won aa.”
Sue looked away over tbe horse's head
as If she was trying to look into the fu
ture. “Yes,” she said at last, “when I
have found a resting place I will let you
know it. I c va’t say any icon now and
—and I must go back to Grosvenor
street, please ”
He released her hand, stepped back,
gave the address to the cabman and
waved his hand to her as the horse
moved forward. Then he turned and
went back Into the building again, too
possessed with work to have m r3 than
five minutes to spare, even for the wo
man whose case and whoso personality
had Interested h'm more ttan ho had
ever b ran interested 'n all his life ba-
foro. But he went hack to his work
with heed and heart both lull o. the girl
wbo had j jst iost the day.
“Hs^VcU he’p that, poor little woman,”
he sa d to hims if, “aid d—n th». fool of
a husband for bis suspicions! He looked
cot up enough when those bioctheads
gave their veniic —the grjater ass he for
putting it in their power to give a ver-
d c at all.”
Mrs Adair, meantime, was driving
along the S rand,that str-etof all others
so full of busy human life, of men and
women all hurrying along, none of them
seeming to have time to give a word or
thought f sympathy to the ruined hearts
and hopes that they meet by the way,
8: e was very wretched! She felt so oid
and worn and she was still so yonng,
only threo and-twenty two months agul
Little Johnny—Sty, father, what
makes the baby cry every time it wakes
np?
Brown—Well, from what I know of
booleo it cries from vexition to find that
It hns kept still for a reasonable length
of tlasc.
wife—and how it had come to be addres
etd to Mrs, Adair he did not know. Yes,
he did sometimes write to Mrs. Adair-
mere notes, answers to invitations or
such tr fling matters, but neverasase-
cret from her has aad, never, on his
word of honor as a gentleman.
Nj, he did not think it possible that he
ccold have pat it in the wrong envelope
because he had not written to Mrs.
Adair at all daring that week—therefore
he could not conjecture how it had hap
pened.
He bad been asked whether be denied
that the handwiitlng of the envelope
was his. No, he replied that it locked
uncommonly like his aud acmitted tnat
if ne had been shown the envelope cssu
ally be shou d have said that it was hid
writing. But he would positively swear
that he hud never written that letter to
Mrs. Adair aud tuat be had never in all
his life jvjittth or spoken one word to
her which all tha world, especially her
husband, might not have seen and
beftrd.
So, with some additional evidei ce
from Mrs Adair s own maid, the case
stood when the jury returutd into court
to give their veroict, and a deathlike
silence feu upon the persons therein
assembled,
it was broken by thesolamn que stions
put to and answeiea by the foreman of
the jury, a:.o afur he had spoken it
lasted for full two minutes longer, two
minutes that see a•.d like hours.
Tne great ev unsei who had orfeEded
Mrs Adrir utterrd au ixeismatioii ot
oisgu*t auc! turned to rpeuk to his
client. ‘ i shad give notice of appeal
whbnthet.me comes’ he said iu a
vexed under.one. “You Le.-.r know
wnat clo ..ns ;ixe l.btte —with a Slight
gesture toward tne Jury—‘ may or may
nut do We umet appeal ”
•Appeal! ’ Mrs. Aduir echoed. She
looaud at him with wild and vacant
eyes. Appea ! What is thai?”
‘it’s t .e only chance we have of up
setting tni-i oi unde ring verdier,” he an
swered “But I will see you in a t ay or
two, Mis Adair, and go int-j it ail with
you.”
But Mrs. Adair shook her head re so
lutely “No, ’ she said In apained vo ce.
• all the appeals in the world cou.d not
uudo wnatnaa been done. Ljt it all gul
I could not go lurough another day like
this—I would rather die. I—I wili gc—
away.” Hue hao b. tn on ihe point of
saying ‘ home,” but checked htrseU and
Buostltuted the o tier word for that, ten
der one to wnlch henceforward she
would be a strarg; r. “You have d ura
your best for me and I thank you. And,
SirJoun’—more heci'auugiy than be
fore—“if yon can believe that I am inno
cent 1 would .ike you to do so Wr.at-
ever happens it will always comfoit me
to tnlnk that y >n believed iu ins, that
any one believed in me”—with a wild
son in her tnroat.
Tue great counsel had something very
like tears In ois eyes and he took her
hand “My dear lady,” he said with a sin
eerily that was numistakab.e, “I believe
in your innocence implicitly—implicitly.
But let me see you safely through tue
crowd aud in-'o your carriage. God
knows,” he added under his breath,
‘ that I woulc do much more than that
to help you, my poor child, if 1 could.”
“You have been very good,” she mur
mured in a dull, hopeless tone. “Nay,
you are very good, it wiilali come back
to yon some day. God brass you, Sir
Ju»n. Good oye.”
By this time thsy had reached the buay
street, and the great counsel looked in
vain for Mis. Adair’s brougham. She
saw the look and answered it. “No, a
cab, pieaae—I did not care to keep the
carriage waiting ”
He hailed a tub and helped her into it,
then leant forward *:t r he had shut the
diora and asked her a question.
“What are you going t) do—when can
I come acd see you?”
S e looked at nim with her sxd eyes
and shook her bead vaguely, hopeless
ly. “1 oon t know what I snail do—I
don’t know yet what wiil become of
me,” sue saio; ‘ aud way should I
tioobls you ai. y more? You bave done
•ii tnat you mud do for me and I atm
grateful, oh! so grateful. But you and i
nave net-iug in common now. Good
bye.”
Sue held ont her hand to him and he
leaned yet nearer toward her. “Mrs.
Adair,” he said, “yon told me that you
had no money of your own—what will
yon dot”
*T did not mean that I was quite pen
niless,” sne answered with n wen smlio.
“I have aboat s hundred pounds loft
quite of my own. That will tide mo
wife ho has I think she mast be a happy
woman ”
S.ra was still thinking of him when
she drove up, for the last time, to the
house whicu bad been her happy home
for five years, five happy years and two
weary and wte ched months. The ser
vant wbo opened the door looked at her
with respectful inquiry aud she an
swered the mute question in his eyes at
once
“I ew going a stay in half an boor, Jen
kins,” she said in a straige, hushed
voice, “and 1 shall not come back here
at all. Tomorrow I daresay your master
will come. He wiil settle everything
with you and make arrangements for tbe
house and to on.”
8ae turned to go np the stairs, hat the
man fallowed her a step or two and
ciogied apologetically. ‘-May I say,
ma’am,” he said.‘‘that I am pii.-ved—
that we are all draply grieved to lose so
kind a miatreis. ffe were hopiog it
might be otherwise, ma'am.”
Tne man's tone touched her. Site
turned b mk with her hand on the oaken
s avr-rail. “And I also, J tmins,” she
sighed, “uhd I also, Well'—sighing
again and with a impales gesture— 1 ‘Tc
was not to ho I hope you will get o 1
well, ail of yoc; you have been good
servants to me and I—I cm do nothing
for any o* you, i cmnut even g v a you a
Cha acter no
Her vo cj 1 roko piteously. She tum
id and weut qoick'y up ihe wide etairs,
U10 steps up and dow.i whicu sue and
D.ek had gone nai d :n hand so uiany
time s together, witn g .y taught-.r and
fond looks which W6ie nil over now,
gone forever i,:to tbe past, wbici was
agony at d a :guish to remember had
ever been.
Thty t 11 us that the > rg’leh are stiff
and cold, that nothing ever rou-eitba
oid nary EngUnbmac on of nis oecorous
reserve. Ferhsp it is so, bu„ I know
that Joxjkitir, the p ain seni ,golan, who
Mae ne long r youog aou had never
bi > n troubled by even the unalra-t
touch of roiusi c • in nil hisJile, woo -vas
btS'd a: d oldfashioned to a degree, 1 do
kuow' that, ss soon as his you g roi.-i
tress tva-i'U, of sight he ben:, d >wn a. d
SlsSid the hand rail just where her lit
tic cold hana had res..'d Tnen, as if
ashamed o' his iittie exhibition of feei
ng, be hurried away to the pantry,
Whtre he stood shaking his head at, tea
rows ofgla-sts aid muttering dark y:
"Oh! Master it ciard. Muster Richard,
you've dune tola day what you will rue
to the end of time. O..I Master It chard,
how could yon do it—how coul* you do
it? ’
in less than half an hour he heard
Mrs Adair coming downstairs and he
went into the hall to meet her. “I have
set tea in the boodoir, ma'am,” he said
iu aa every-lay rer pectful tone as if he
had never given way to a burst of feel
ing in all his life and she was but
golrg cut io pay an afternoon visit and
would assuredly be back ty dinner
time.
“Thank you, Jenkins,” she said, “eat
I cannot wait for it. Gall me a cab, if
you please.”
“But you will take something, ma'am,
before yon go ont,” be urged, laying
aside his defeience in his anxiety.
“No, Jenkins, thank you, 1 would
rather not bave any tuing here. Yes, n
Cab at once, please. Thanks.”
Her tone admitted of no delay, of no
remonstrance, and Jenkins went ont
into tne fast fading day and whistled
sharply. A moment later Mrs. Adair
had looked her last on her home, and
as she passed ont of the door her maid
cims 1 aiming dawn with a small port
mauteau and a rather shabby iittie
dressing big. “Give them to Jenkins,”
Mrs Adair said, “and «o stralg-. t in
doors, Marie—no need to make your
cold worse—good bye.” Then she
stopped and held ont her baud to Jen-
kies.
“Yon will say g:od bye to all the
others for me, Jenkins,” she said. “I
could not bear 10 see them—I have left
a remembrance for eac 1 of yuu with
Marie. Goodbye, Jenxins rood bye.”
Sh s pressed a bit of rust ing paper
into his hand and got quickly into tne
cab. ‘‘Drive tc 00 Jtrmyn e.r-et, she
said; and then the driver aav» a jerk to
the reins and the next mxment Jin: 1 s
was siauding alone on ti e ctoorate**
looking after therotr -ating vehicle.
* No 00 J >rmyn street,” he repeated.
‘ft he’s going to tee him. Well, Matter
Ricnard. I’ve never been afraid <f man,
woman nor oniid in all my life yat, but
I d rataer that yon had to faea bar than
me, thnt’a all. And if ever I get nold of
BaanUe VaUln thexe’U be n heavy reek-