Newspaper Page Text
W. F. SMITH, Publisher,
VOLUME IX.
moonlight, on morning ?
BT CELESTE M. A. WIHBLOW.
Feebly * light crecpelh in at the casement,
doubtful if yet it shall linger or flee,
Clasping night’s tendrils with dim interlacement,
Waking a dull, dreamy wonder in me •
Is it the moon, in the wide west delaying,
Bending faint, flickering farewells ere straying,
Or, the first rays for anew day’s adorning ?
Ah, drowsy night, is It moonlight or morning?
Into my heart shines a brightness uncertain
Youth s dreams are dim, and the skies oTercaet
Is it a ghostly hand lifting times curtain,
Ih inglng from the moon of my past?
Or a fresh joy bursting forth into sweetness,
Wakening wan life to a now day's completeness
Golden beams, chasing lost silver with scorning,
101 l me, 0, Love, is it moonlight or morni.'ig ?
Softly a light stealeth over my spirit,
I rossing tho dusk of drear sorrow away;
Is some rare earth-joy returning to cheer it,
Filling my soul with a prayer for delay ?
Or, a far-glimmering gleam of new glory,
Passing the light of earth's moon-silvered story
Itays of remoto bliss, in beautitul warning ;
Say, watching soul, is ft moonlight or moraing?
lIOW IT WAS DONE .
Church Torrington was perhaps the
greatest coward in New York.
Don’t misunderstand us, gentle read
er—physically speaking our young hero
was as brave as Bayard, as dauntless as
Ccmir do Lion. But it was where the
fair sex was concerned that Mr. Tor
riugton became a poltroon. A gentlo
glance from a pair of blue eyes was
enough to throw him into a cold per
spiration at any timo. *
As one by one tho companions of his
boyhood and early youth vanished out
of the path of bacnelorhood and entered
into the promised land of matrimony,
Church Torrington viewed them with a
not uuenvious mind.
“How the mischief did they muster
up courage enough to do it ? ” was his
internal reflection.
And Harry Leslie, a wag of forty, who
always had a knack of finding out every
body else’s weak points, said :
“Alio! that set are married except
Church Torrington, and he’ll be a bach
elor all the days of his life because ho
hasn’t got tho courage to ask fcny girl to
have him. I don’t know, though, eith
er,” he added reflectively. “Wait till
leap year comes round again; there may
be a clxanco for him then.”
Nevertheless, in the face of all these
obstacles, Church Torrington was in
love.
Miss Violet Purple was as pretty and
blooming a little lassie as ever tripped
down the sunny side of Broadway under
a tliread-lace parasol on a June after
noon. She wus very plump and rather
small, with soft blue-gray eyes, eye
brows like twin arches of jet, shining
chestnut hair like white velvet, just
flushed with the softest pink on either
dimpled cheek.
And she had a way of carrying her
hoad piquantly on one side, spoke with
the slightest possible of lisps, always
wore a rose in her hair, and was alto
gether precisely the sort of a girl a man’s
fancy was apt to conjure up when ho
thought of the possibility of a wife to
cheer the gloom of his solitary home.
Violet Purple was born to be married
—you couldn’t think of her as an old
maid any more than yon could think of
strawberries without cream, or a satin
slipper without a dainty foot to fit it;
and, whenever she thought of the prob
ability of the catastrophe, a face like the
mustached physiognomy of Mr. Church
Torrington outlined itself through the
misty vapors of her day-dream.
But Mr. Church was so dreadfully
bashful—he wouldn’t propose—and poor
little Violet was nearly at her wits’ end
*hat to do in this dire perplexity. A
prl of any delicacy can’t very well ask a
han to have her, and Violet had done
ivory thing else. She had smiled sweet
ly upon him, given him rose buds out of
her ball bouquets, sent him embroidered
cigar cases, and returned a gentle press
ure when he had ventured to squeeze
her hand at parting ; and what, we ask
the reader, could a girl do more ?
And still, in spite of all this, Mr. Tor
rington persisted in keeping his love to
himself. In vain Aunt Sarepta took her
up stairs, an i left the drawing-room free
to twilight and the lovers—in vain Vio
let put on her prettiest dresses and curled
her hair, with a special eye to Mr. Tor
rington’s taste.
Old Mr. Purple—whose name was not
& bad description of the general hue
his face—besom to wonder “ what in the
world young Torrington meant by coni
ng here so much and keeping better
men away !” and hinted very broadly at
the propriety of Violet’s being more gra
cious to a certain banker, a friend of his,
who was supposed to be especially at
tracted by the blue-gray eyes and the
jet arched brows.
And little Violet took to crying at
uight on her lace-edged pillows, and
ggggggggggg
Devoted to Industrial Inter st. the Diffusion ol Troth, the Establishment of Justice, and the Preservation of a People's Government,
Aunt Sarepta, a tall, spare, maiden lady,
who had only recently come up from
the country to take charge of her
brother’s housenold, scarcely knew
what to do.
violet,” quoth the aunt, “what ails
you ?”
“I don’t know, aunt.”
“ How long lias Mr. Torrington been
visiting here ?”
“I don’t know; about three years.”
“ Does he care for you, Violet ?”
“I don’t know, aunt,” she replied,
blushing and rosy.
“ Do you care for him ?”
don’t know, aunt,” she said, blush
fcsg still more deeply.
Then why on earth don’t he propose,
and have done with it.”
“ 1 don’t know, aunt!” This time in
a sort of despairing accent.
Miss Sarepta Purple set herself to un
tangle this Gordian knot of circum
stances as she w r ould a “ snarl” in her
skeins of mixed wools ; and when Mis
Sarepta set herself about a thing, she
was generally in the habit of accomplish
ing it.
“ I’ll go and see him myself,” was the
result of a long day of meditation on
Miss Sarepta’spart; “and I won’t let
Violet know about it. ”
Mr. Church Torrington sat in his
leather covered easy chair, looking out
a difficult case in Estoppels when his
Clerk announced “ a ladyand, turn
ing abruptly around, he encountered the
gaze of Miss Sarepta Purple’s spec
tacled orbs.
He colored scarlet as he dragged forth
a chair, and stammered out some inco
herent sentence or other—for was not
she Violet’s aunt?—tho aunt of the fair
damsel whom he worshiped afar off and
in silence !
“ Thank you,” said Miss Purple, de
positing herself on the chair as one
might set down a heavy trunk—“l’ve
come on business.”
“ Indeed ! ”
“Because,” said Miss Purple, edging
her chair a little nearer that of the
young lawyer, “I think it’s time this
business was settled.”
“ Wliat business V”
“ What business ?” echoed Mrs. Pur
ple, with a belligerent toss of her head:
“as if you do not know well enough
what I am talking about—why getting
married, to bo sure 1”
Mr. Torrington grew a shade or two
paler. Was it possible that this ancient
maiden still contemplated the probabili
ty of matrimony? Had she then selected
him for her victim ? He looked at the
back window—it opened on a blind alley,
which led nowhere. He glanced at the
door; but Miss Purple’s gaunt form ef
fectually debarred that means of egress.
No—there was nothing but to sit still
and face the worst that fate had in store
for him.
“You see,” went on Miss Sarepta, “I
am not blind if I am getting into years,
and I can see as well as anybody what
you mean by coming so often to our
house. But still I think you ought to
have spoken out like a man. I’m will
ing, and I don’t suppose my brother will
object, as you seem to be able to keep a
wife 1”
“You—you are very kind!” stammered
Mr. Torrington.
“ Is it to be yes or no—about the mar
riage, I mean ?”
“I shall be most happy, I am sure 1”
fluttered our miserable hero.
“Spoken like a man 1 It’s what I
knew you meant all the time,” cried
Aunt Sarepta, rising to her feet, and
actually depositing an oscular demon
stration, meant for a kiss, on Church’s
forehead. “I knew I should like you!”
Church stared. This was not exactly
etiquette; but the whole matter was re
ally so strange and unprecedented that
he hardly knew what to think.
“And when will you come round to
brother Jacob’s and tell the folks all
about it—for I suppose you’d like to tell
them yourself ? This evening ?”
“ Y—yes, if you say so !”
“It’s as good a time as any, I suppose.
Of course you won’t mention that I said
anything to you about it ? I’d rather it
should seem unstudied.”
“Naturally enough!” thought poor
Church.
But he promised, with a faint smue,
and parted from Miss Purple, almost
shrinking from the vigorous grasp of
the hand which she unhesitatingly be
stowed upon him.
No sooner was Church Torrington
alone than the full horror of his posi
tion rushed upon him. What had he
: done ? To what had he committed him
self?
1 “It serves me right,” he muttered,
grinding his teeth, “when I conld have
INDIAN SPRINGS, GEORGIA.
won the love of the sweetest little fairy
the sun ever shone on. It was simply
idiotic of me to allow a middle-aged ter
magant to take possession of me, as
though I were a cooking-stove or a sec
ond-hand clock! She will marry me,
and I shall be a captive for life, simply
because I was too much of a noodle to
save myself. Oh, dear, deart this is a
terrible scrape for a poor fellow to get
into ! But there is no help for it now.
If I w ere to back out, she’d sue me for a
breach of promise. If I were to go to
Australia, she would follow me there as
sure as fate ! I’m n lost man I ”
And Church Torrington proceeded
straight to the mansion where dwelt the
inexorable Sarepta.
And, behold I as he knocked at the
door, Miss Purple herself opened the
door, and mysteriously beckoned him in.
“I saw you coming,” she said, in a
low, eager tone. “I’ve been on the
look-out. Excuse me, my dear, but I
really feel as if I must kiss you once
more. We’re going to be relations, yot
know.”
“Relations! I should think sol’’
groaned Church Torrington, taking the
kiss as a child would a quinine powder.
Miss Sarepta patted him on the shoul
“ Then go in,” she said, nodding mys
teriously toward the door beyond.
“ Go ia—where ?” stammered our be
wildered hero.
“ Why, to Violet, to be sure !”
“To Violet! Was it Violet that you
meant ?”
“To be sure it was! Who did you
suppose I meant—me ?”
This last suggestion, hazarded as the
wildest improbability by Miss Sarepta,
called the guilty color up into Church’s
cheek..
“Miss Purple, pardon me,” he said;
“but I’ve been a stupid blockhead,
Don’t be angry, as you say we're going
to be relations.”
And he took the spinster in his arms
and bestowed upon her a kiss which
made its predecessor appear but the
shadow and ghost of kisses—a kiss which
jounded as though Mr. Church Torring
ion meant it.
“Do behave yourself !” cried Miss
Sarepta.
“ Yes, I’m going to,” said Church, and
he walked straight into the drawing
room, where little Violet was dreaming
over an unread book of poems. She
started as he entered.
“ Mr. Torrington, is it you?”
“ Yes, it is I,” said Church, inspired
with new courage. “Violet, darling, I
love you—will you consent to be my
wife? ”
“ Are you in earnest, Church?”
“In earnest? It’s what I’ve been
waiting to say to you for the last six
months, but I have not dared to vent
ure. Come, you will not send me away
without an answer. Say yes, darling.”
“Yes,” Violet answered, so faintly
that only true lover’s ears could have
discerned the faltering monosyllable.
And Church Torrington felt as if he
were the luckiest fellow in all the great
metropolis that night.
When Aunt Serepta came in, looking
very unconscious, to light the gas,
Church insisted upon another kiss,
greatly to that lady’s discomposure.
“For you know very well, Aunt Sar
epta,” he said, “you set me the ex
ample.”
And Aunt Sarepta did not look very
angry with him.
So they were married with all due
flourish of trumpets, and Yiolet does
not know to this day how instrumental
the old maiden aunt was in seeming her
happiness.
HUXLEY OK THE INFERIORITY OE
WOMEN.
Suppose, for the sake of argument, we
accept the inequality of the sexes as one
of nature’s immutable laws; call it a fact
that women are inferior to men in mind,
morals and physique; concede all that
the labored arguments of scientists and
theologians have sought to prove. How
or why should this settle or materially
affect the subject of so-called woman’s
rights? Would such inferiority be a
valid reason for denying to women free
dom and opportunity to improve and
employ whatever talents they may pos
sess ? Would it even be a sufficient rea
son for refusing them representation in
a Government like ours, where neither
“race, color nor previous condition of
servitudes” precludes citizenship? On
the contrary, would not this very inferi
ority be a reason why every advantage
should be given the weaker sex, not only
for its own good, but for the highest
development of the race ?
In Vanderbilt’s bedroom are silver
bath-tubs.
MEXICAN BANDITTI.
Highway Travel aa It II as Before the Open
ing of the Railroad.
[Cor. of the New York World.]
j The road from Mexico city to San
Juan del Rio used to be the worst part
of the journey to the interior when one
was obliged to travel by diligence, and
was the part most infested by highway
robbers. These highway robbers are
by no means extinct as yet, but with the
railroads one hears much less of them.
When I arrived in this country for tho
first time, some nineteen years ago, I
had the pleasure of being robbed two or
three times both on the road to San
Juan del Rio and on the road to Vera
Cruz. lam glad of it now, as being
robbed on the highway by the genuine
Mexican bandit is a sensation soon to be
a thing of the past, and I like leaving
the track occasionally and being shaken
up by new emotions. I was doubly
shaken at that time, I remember, by the
awful motion of the diligence, and my
fright at meeting the “campaneros,” as
they call them.
It is a picturesque sight to see a band
of Mexican “banditti” galloping down
a mountain path on magnificent horses ;
their large Mexican hats, trimmed with
gold and silver, shading their faces;
their pantaloons buttoned down the side
with large silver buttons ; their pistols
in their belts behind, their swords at
their sides and their serapes—a sort of
plaid of bright and variegated colors—
artistically thrown over one shoulder
and hiding their entire face with the ex
ception of one eye, which glares fero
ciously on the unfortunate passengers of
the diligence they are about to rob.
Their Captain gallops at their head and
shouts imperiously to the driver of the
diligence to stop. In one trip in which
I encountered them there was a lady
among the passengers who wore a hand
some diamond ring rather tight for her
finger. In her fright she could not get
it off, and one of the brigands said to his
leader: “ Captain, the lady cannot get
her ring off. What are we to do ? ” To
which the ungallant Mexican Fra Diav
olo answered very coolly, “ Cut her fin
ger off.”
You can easily imagine the cold shud
der that ran through us all. Fortunate
ly she at last managed, to get the ring
off, and we were not forced to witness
an amputation. In another journey a
more amusing incident occurred. There
was a Bishop in the diligence, and they
robbed him of his ring. When they had
got through their operations, and taken
everything of value we had, they knelt
down and asked the Bishop to give them
his blessing. He told them it was im
possible to bless them without his ring,
hoping in that way to get possession of
it. They returned him the ring and he
solemnly blessed them, but when he had
done so they again took his ring and gal
loped off with it, leaving his Grace in
the middle of the road exclaiming :
“Bandidos perversos! they have
robbed me even of my blessing !”
Bobberies on the Vera Cruz road at
that time were of daily occurrence, and,
as the brigands possessed themselves of
the passengers’ clothes, I have often
seen, from my balcony in the Hotel
Iturbide, men and women arrive naked.
An Englishman said to me once: “'I
generally travel with two or three copies
of the London Times. You know it is a
very large newspaper, and in case of
those confounded blackguards taking all
my clothes, by Jove 1 the Times might
be useful.”
HARD WORK,
“What is your secret of success?”
asked a lady of Turner, the distin
guished painter. He replied, “ I have
no secret, madam, but hard work.”
Says Dr. Arnold, “ The difference be
tween one boy and another is not so
much in talent as in energy.”
“Nothing,” says .Reynolds, “is denied
well-directed labor, and nothing is to be
attained without it.”
“ Excellency in any department,”
says Johnson, “can now be attained
only by the labor of a lifetime ; it is not
to be purchased at a less price.”
“There is but one method,” said
Sydney Smith, “ and that is hard labor;
and a man who will not pay that price
for distinction had better at once ded
icate himself to the pursuit of the fox.”
“ Step by step,” reads the French
proverb, “/>ne goes very far.”
.Last year 113,400,000 shares of stock
were sold in the New York Exchange,
beside 43,000,000 shares of mining stock,
and §387,000,000 of railroad bonds. The
recorded dealings in Government bonds
were §36,663,000, and in State bonds
£49,700,000— par value.
i
ETIQUETTE OE THE NAPKIN.
The law of the napkin is but vaguely
; understood. One of our esteemed met
ropolitan contemporaries informs an
eager inquirer that it is a bad form to
old the napkin after dinner; that the
proper thing is to throw it with negli
gent disregard on the table beside the
plate, as to fold it would be a reflection
on the host, and imply a familiarity that
would not benefit an invited guest. But*
the thoughtful reader will agree with us
that this studied disorder is likely to be
a good deal more trying to a fastidious
hostess than an unstudied replacing of
the napkin in good order beside the vis
itor’s plate. For, when tho dinner nap
kin is laid aside, tiicr© is tlie fruit or
dessert napkin to replace it. Fancy tho
appearance of a pretty decorated table
with heaps of rumpled linen disfiguring
the symmetrically arranged spaces be
twixt the sherry, champagne and bur
gundy glasses—to say nothing of the
elaborately-decorated China and silver
bouquetieres! It could be construed
as nothing less than gross ill-breedmg
to fling the voluminous napkin of mod
ern use among such crystalline and
argentine beauty. The proper thing ia
to fold the fabric with unostentatious
care and lay it on the left of the plate
far from the liquids, liquors and coflee,
and thus testify to the hostess that her
care in preparing the table has been ap-
predated. The true rule would be to
endeavor to leave the original gracious
finish of the table as distinct when the
dinner ends as when the soup was served.
The napkin has played famous parts
in the fortunes of men and women. It
was said of Beau Brumi nel and the mag
nificent George, Prince Kegent, that
they could make the uses of this peculiar
luxury as potent iu the graces of a social
symposium as Cleopatra the gorgeous
wealth of Ormus or Ind. It was one of
the points admired in Marie Stuart that,
thanks to her exquisite breeding in the
court of Marie de Medici, her table was
more imposing than the full court of her
great rival and executioner, Elizabeth,
At the table of the latter the rudest
forms were maintained, the dishes were
served on the table, and the great Queen
helped herself to the platQr without
fork or spoon, a page standing behind
her with a silver ewer to bathe her
fingers when the flesh had been torn
from the roasts. At the court of the
late empire Eugenie was excessively
fastidious. The use of tho napkin, and
the manner of eating an egg, made or
ruined the career of a guest. The great
critic, Sainte Beuve, was disgraced and
left off the visiting list because, at a
breakfast with the Emperor and Em
press, at the Tuileries, he carelessly
opened his napkin and spread it over his
two knees, and cut his egg in two in the
middle. The court etiquette prescribed
that the half-folded napkin should lie on
the left knee, to be used in the least ob
trusive manner in touching the lips, and
the egg was to be merely broken on tho
larger end with the edge of the spoon
and drained with its tip. The truth is,
luxury and invention push table appli
ances do far that few can be expected to
know the particular convention that
may be considered good form in any di
versified society. The way for a young
fellow to do is to keep his eyes open—
which, unless he is in love, he can do—
and note what others do. If he be in
love : all departure from current forms
will be pardoned him, for, as all the
world loves a lover, all the world ex
cuses his shortcomings.— Philadelphia.
Times.
We have heard of many shrewd ad
vertising dodges cn the part of managers
and agents, but the following corrals the
sweetened dough : Dave Thomas, one
of Bamum’s agents, succeeded in effect
ing an adjournment of the New Hamp
shire Legislature during a visit of the
show at the capital in rather a daring
manner. He got a reporter of one of
the dailies to write out a series of reso
lutions relating to the death of some
prominent person, and, handing them
to one of the legislators, the latter
moved that the Legislature adjourn out
of respect to his memory. They were
read, adopted and an adjournment had
before the wise men of the body discov
ered that the individual referred to had
been dead over three months. The
legislators went to the circus, all the
same, however, and took the whole city
•with them.
Without earnestness no man is ever
great or does really great things. He
may be the cleverest of men, he may be
brilliant, entertaining, popular, but he
will want weight. No soul-moving pict
ure was ever painted that had not its
depth of shade.
SUBSCRIPTION--tl.Bo.
NUMBER 33.
EJLEA SANT HIES,
A near-sighted man calls his specta
cles his eyedols.
“Boyce will bo Boyce,” remarked a
young lady of that .ame, as she reject
ed a suitor for her hand.
An old gentleman, being asked what
he wished for dinner, replied, “An ap
petite, good company, something to eat
and a clean napkin.”
It has been said that a chattering lit
tle soul in a large body is like a swallow
in a barn—the twitter takes up more
room than the bird.
A man sometimes forgets, before ho
has paid, w hether he has paid or not;
1 iiit o.ftor ho linn paid, Lo uavor forgets
that lie has paid. Man is naturally a
liar.
There is no accounting for tastes on
this terrestrial sphere. A Frenchman’s
shrug is considered of no particular im
portance, while a Turkish rug is regarded
with admiration the world over.
I do wonder, murmured a Philadel
phia woman, how us females, when we
becomo angels, will manage without
hair pins. You will have to get along
with ’airy pinions then, my dear.
A Prof. Gunning, up in Michigan, is
lecturing on “After Man, What?” A
Fort Wayne editor, who has been there,
rises to remark that it is generally the
Sheriff or some woman.— Hawkeye.
Indignant boarding mistress—“ Why,
what are you there for ? ” Fat boy on
table—“ Mr. Howlett put me here. He
says it’s his birthday, and he wants to
see something on the table beside hashl”
We often hear of a woman marrying a
man to reform him, but no one ever tells
about a man marrying a woman to re
form her. We men are modest, and
don’t talk about our good deeds much.
-—New York Times.
1 It is not strange that the Atlantic
should be rather ugly occasionally, as it
is so often crossed. —Commercial Bulle
i tin. It should draw a lesson from its
sister ocean, who, though often crossed,
is always of a Pacific disposition.
The best sermon in the world never
i yet reconciled the proud man, trying to
curl his feet up and out of sight under
: the pew, to the painfully obtrusive and
evident fact that the wife of his bosom
had used his blacking brush to polish
the kitchen stove.
A tidy young lady, short of stature,
! married a man six feet four inches tall.
She explained to her friends that he
would be so handy to have in the house;
he could light the chandelier in the
parlor and hang pictures without get
ting on the chairs and soiling them with
his boots.
Tyndall’s theory that heat is simply
motion in another form must be true.
Strike a piece of iron and it becomes
hot. Strike a man and he immediately
boils over. There is, however, one ex
ception to the rule. Strike a warm
friend for a short loan and he at once
becomes as cold as an iceberg.
COULDN'T BEAT 'EM.
An Englishman stopping at a country
inn in one of the Eastern States was
continually boasting about the superior
ity of everything in England, and de
preciating the productions of America.
Tho landlord, as may be surmised, did
not relish this, and therefore thought of
a plan to get even with the boaster.
Procuring a half a dozen fine, healthy
crabs, he poured them into the English
man’s bed, and, telling his guest that
his bed was ready, he lighted a candle
and escorted him up-stairs. Upon reach
ing the door, the man managed to put
out the light. Of course it did not make
much difference to the Englishman, so
he undressed himself and jumped into
bed. Immediately he gave a terrific yell
and cried:
“ Landlord 1 Come here 1 What are
these in bed ?”
The landlord, who was outside the
door, and who had lit the candle, came
and looked in the bed, and coolly said:
“Them’s bedbugs. Can you beat
them in England ?”
A NATURAL DELIGHT.
“It gives me a pleasant sense of vic
tory,” said Miss Alcott, “to ransack the
old trunks, and now and then fish out
and sell a story that had been rejected
over and over again when I had not
been heard of, and that goes readily
enough now. I lately took malicious
delight in replying to a request for a
story from a magazine by sending it a
story which its editor had rejected at
least once, and I don’t know but twice.
Ho took it and paid me well for it.’ 4
Indianapolis Journal.