Newspaper Page Text
Hie Mriri Democrat <
Git A'V Ft )KlfVILLK. G-fcOlKH X.
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UNCLE ABE. WE’S READY.
flic ’I’owuin Dinuer uh It wni Enjoyed b>
the Whole Family.
One night, says Hamilton Jay, I was
aroused by the persistent barking of a
pet dog. Hastily dressing, I went out
to the poultry house, and was lucky
en-'tDgb to kilf a huge ’possum, which
was gazing between the slabs at the
rows of fat chickens. The next morning
I turned it over to Uncle Abe, Whose
huge, roystoriotiB month watered at tho
sight of the fat ’posititn meat.
It was Sunday morning, and great
TJncie preparations A lie lived were made the for the in feast.
in wood lot the
rear of the plantation, in a neat little
cabin of one room, with a home-mado
chinuifxof umd and slabs.
His trout door looked out upon a
pretty httle pond, whose shores were
lined with cow track* and snake holes,
and his back yard was forty acres of
well wooded high pine land.
Ate'iit 10 o'clock that morning I was
strolling along the road, taking my con
stitutionnl walk when I met Uncle Al>e, i
and bailed him with, “Well, Abe, is tho
’possum “Hit’s cooking?” sab,”
a parbilin’, he answered, j
“den wt- tons’ hit, and hah dinner about
1 o’clock g. rn.”
“Have you invited anyone to dinner, i
Abe?”
an’son’ “No • (.l.’mvoderVtives Jr hut mv woman’s mother
has’witod *
dey j owbw'Jvos, sah, an do * possum am
"Si tote" ’lornddf tfflile^^W’Mni/l’eter
nam.-o \~‘hc, an ton an Jinny, fce an ,
v^tbiy fat w^mau oafiehill.au an ;
do chi. fib nowsuraiiber, wo hits plenty ;
wm r s''rtor toTis < 'hLp out ’to^ee ”’a id AU hurr cd ! !
back h» his chatom (liauaii i see that tnat nothing g
I“i S K .“ulo S T “rolled 1
n^n aiJ tfxik rn “v I Uk throuS by the
a the
wlndovr at the assembled feasters iu
prospective. tJncle Abo was sitting V.y
the open, fire-place, where a huge pine
flre was covered merrily blnzmg, where the his,oyoe possum lay
on a pan against
spilt ft ring and hissing m protest
luivii.g been butchered to make a negro
portaot in ^ X^d
tU £:'’w^tS^ ^y. it was ha.1 ex- at
•mining t he hoe cake to see if
tained tl.e proper doneness; his young
sister in-law was flirting behind
tuitey I.J1 ta, »atto W«1 chair,
was seated in a hide-bottomed
droning a song with a slapping wrinkle.I aeeom
imuinu .it, plaved with his
Auger.-.....the legs of the chair.
They were all dressed in their best
gear, all looked happy, mV* though slightly
Wi patient, as the of the cookery
struck their get.er.ms nostrils and a
joino.1 In the chorus of tho old man s
Bong;
™k bono.
Ve i» -mm «,u u-roiu'tn’ in <le big, wide pan
(I'.ioi.. At.., we’« lmuKry!) ohi/ho
Do c»!c nmu am a waichin’hii ran
(Undo Abo, dat'a ivt. r!)
A,.’ < 1.1 a [‘‘TTVw,v") ' r a “
lu' m»ii> . v d iiici;. r nm a-tniliii’wid a fau
('llu .'If Al).', d.u'« Ihuuu !)
An* ynr un\ <U i f&UfHt l>ra<!. Ktd in lan*
(I'noii'A to. .ini s Sim»n !i
Oh, my, <l Kran
Clon- up <i» <i<><»- au’ .l. window/now tight an
yon km, ole nigger in,
An’ don’ yon let amul.ler man
Nor a '" at K gal, ed.ir, .IoukU slio knock liko
Fur ./'teissum am dune an’ Maim Nancr dun
* 8 tin.
An’ ole Gnelo IVter mo»’ Jump ont«n bis
skin
Ihxkc, ya kin sit ftloTip r side Mias Huhau;
I fpcots dis dlnii. r wiiiiri i.o 'inooHui’
(Uncle At’.-, .u .ready!)
The I’eucil Thiel.
There is no nn aiior thief than tho
lead-few.> thiei, iuid by Ins work the
faht ir very often suiters. Ho tfkus
r«k v.eTow flie muPfelin snnteiMr. ,fe
never litis a (uueil in sight, Jl. a»ks tele lot
yours, "just a minute, to sign a
graph book, address a card, ,u.d U.ou
w.tl, a lnisuu ts-hko Mr sticks it into liw
pocket, knowing that muo times out o
ten you will novi. think of the p.u.e.
until yon want to use it yourself, and
then lie will l o tar away, playujjg his
ganio on someone else. They are shame
jess fellows, pnmd . f tlm.r petty thiov
mg. They throw mck then- coats to
show you the spoils nestling in a vest
.pocket, and they tell you from whom
they stole each pened. We lost the last
pencil we had m this world, not ton
n»iu.yos ago, by tlio haadp of tho jiencil
thief. A man who makes a business ol
stealing pencils, ought to be burned at
the stake, boiled in oil, Iwlioadod at tlie
Work, bung, drawn and qualtered,
buried without benefit of clergy, at the
i EhleaiD the flu'Oil, hour yl midnight, place in the dark of
vhero at a lonely roads in an awful tend
ton st two meet, with ti
pencil thrust through his heart. Here
we nre, rt»bl>ed by a soulless villain, not
lend j A’licil to our buck, and it mnv l>e
alf a day before we meet a man from
whitei' confiding hands we can lift a pen¬
cil to make good tlie one we lost. We
played poor he old is Professor absent-minded Sayitslow for
that ot.e, so any¬
body oan got away with his load pencil,
but then lie’s ont of town. Tho stars tu
their courses mviu to he fighting agaiust
ns to-day. A plague on all pencil
t te c Ym s, «ud «m say.—ltoitoJUTK
A D ote ovi ut.—Dr. Chile of raris has
teund that r> per emit, of Huldren
hear ouly w tii lu a limited range, Aprao
t ed re • J of Ups discovery is that ehil
dren uiwii jm pksod at such a distance
from the teachers'desk as will oorre
<qvmd with their strength of hearing,
The matter does not appear to have been
•bought of belore, likely but to its attract obvious atten- ins
portauae the
tion from teachers.
1 “Yes, „ she . said, . "I always , obey my
husban l, but I reckon I have something
to SkST about what his commands will
be.”
MY WASTED YOUTH.
__
"Que Tons ai-J« done fait, o meg Jeune* snnoeg.’
let me alone!
I am wiping my wasted youth.
I am weeing the days when the orchard wag
white snd slaw
As the driven an#, and I did not go, as
rri!R '
To let the Modems fall and cover me o er,
And take tee heart of the spring to my own
heart’s core.
X im weeping my wasted youth
Let me alone !
X.et me alone!
I am wsejAUf tug wasted youth.
lain weSpng tee .tarlight nights that I did
not tCd.
And tl.e star-like eyta that never lit up tor m<,
The moons that on rippling waters hs*u
glanced and shone,
And the tender faces I have not looked cpt*.
J aiu weeping my wasted youth,
Let mo alone !
X.et me alone !
X am weeping my wanted youth. ;
X am sucping th* juinry dances I could net
tscad,
And tlis tesrs of happiness that X did not shedt
The feverish joy, aud dumb, delicious pain,
And tli« lost, lost moments that will not com?
again.
I am weeping my wasted youth.
Let me alone f
Let me alone!
I am weeping my w asted youth.
am praying for those who lave seen tlieitr
youth go by,
With half its awei fct untested, known, as I.
Go<l forasmuch as it® left the first
bright page
'heir lifeal*w.k~-w<>uSfl sewl them love in
theiraf!e ’
I alu P” 1 *? toy wasted youth.
L at me akrne!
-J Hack-woof, Magazb**.
VJUiy f 0-01111011. T ^l 1 1 toi I "
,
window full of bloSHonring plants; a
bright s fire glowing beliind a burnished
s’,laitfM hi .ft, wiWl velvety colo/to pile
was M bines and
correspond with the damask-covered fur
nitnn just,^/^yshe ; and a little giktod clock, which
lied
b.ng met Mrs. Ctockw^ri*
would admit ‘ ’
She a I’W . f j faced voumr
u ron of some tour or or five 1xve and and twenty, twe tv
and » ^
their charms, Tl.ile her dress of soft
erm.son « x .2 uu,iaiiftlrted
“Fanny, tala 'Vr Mt. 7 rffiickerlv Chiekerly, look look
to, nr "V J«u
on those Cwtera to-day ?
No; I never ^boug h t of it. (
“Ami tl.ey leave town to-morrow
morning; and Carter in absurd y sensi
tive to ail ^ghts, fancied or real. I ajh
ny, 1 desired you to make a point of call
mg »WVH, IW ....... into.ud to Frank pouted
Mrs. Chiekerly, but one can t think of
everything. “You not, it
can seems
“It nppean to me that yon mo
a mouutabi out of a mole-hill,
J? an ny, rather tartly, business serf
“It may affect my very
, : U;ll - v - bouse c “ rwa ^ m '
flnenoe With it.
Mrs. Chiekerly was silent, patting the
velvet carpet with her foot in a manner
that indicated some annoyauce. earjr
“I shall have to leave here very
to-morrow morning, said her husband,
presently. Seenersville, about Aunt
"To go to
Elizabeth’s will ?
“U “Oh, t M ' 1 ' wouldn , t, Frank. „
“Why, not?
“It’s snoh bitter oold weather to travel
iii, nud Aunt Elizabeth is such a wtiiinw
Pa | 0 |,j woman, it’s as likely as not that
8 he’ll change her mind al-out making a
will when you get there. I would wait a
little, if i wore you."
Mr. Chiekerly smiled. of doing
••Thn, would he your svstem
(hiu 's, Fa.n.v, hut not mine.”
w\l%•» lystr'm, *' Frtuk 1 Wliat do von
fi mean that you believe in putting
thuics Wisest o ! ihd.Tuutelv, *i and not always in
^ manner. wish you’d break
y 0m . sl , !f „f , hat hal , it , Fanny. Believe
> bring to grief.”
^ u wil! 80mo d ay Contracted you
cl , ickeHy her pretty
,A„n ’ r ows.
dou > t i >0 lievo in being lectured,
F ,. link ."
“And I don’t very often lecture you,
n ,v dear- pray give me credit for that.”
didn’t flunk ^, you were marrying
au 6 wbm voU t( k me j hoiie?”
"So, my love. I thought I was mar
, T . ng v ,.‘rv pretty little girl, whose few
faults might easily be corrected."
"Faults 1 Havo I any ' great faults,
Frank ?”
"Little faults mav sometimes entail
great consequences, Fanny.”
“If vou scold nie nrv more I shall go •
-
out of tho room. ’
“You need not, for T am going my stiff
to paek mv valise. By the way, there’s
« billion off the shirt I want to wear to
morrow. 1 wish you would come up
stairs and sew it on for me.”
“1 will, presently.”
“Why can’t you come now ?”
“I just want to finish this book; there's
1 nly And one more chapter.”
olutely Fanny opened her volume so res
that her husband thought it
best not to contest the question.
Sitting all alone in front of the bright
fire, Mrs. Chiekerly gradually grew
drowsy, and before she knew it she had
a^amimd ofT into tht> fdl *to»dowy , uio _. v w^ion* regions 0 ol f
’
She was roused by the clock striking
eleven.
“Dear me, how late it is!” she
thought, with a little start. “I must go
upstairs immediately. There, I forgot
to tell cook about having breakfast at
five to-morrow morning, and of course
site’s abed and asleep by this time. I’ll
V>e up early enough to see to it myself—
that will be just as well.”
.And laving this salvo to her eo*
science, Mrs. Chiekerly tutted off the
gas and crept drowsily up the stairs, f
‘‘Fanny, Fanny, it’s past five, and
cook hasn’t come down stairs yet. Are
yon sure yon spoke to her last night,”
Mrs. Chiekerly rubbed her eyes and
fita rted £ q ' arOTlnd .
„ 0h Fn k j forgot aI1 abon t Bpea k
ii.g to her last night,” she cried, with
° I’ll
eo 8cience . 8tr i c ken face. “But run
right up—she can have the breakfast
teady in a very few ”
Hhe sprang ont 0 f hed, thrust her feet
into a pair of silk-lined slippers, and
threw a shawl over her shoulders.
Mr. Chiekerly bit his lip and checked
her:
“No need, Fanny,” he s»d, a little
bitterly. “I must leave the house in
fifteen minutes or miss the only through
train. It’s of no use speaking to cook
now. ”
“I am so scarry, Frank.”
Mr. Chiekerly did not answer; he was
apparently absorbed M turning over the
various articles in his bureau-drawer,
while Fanny sat shivering on the edge of
the bed, cogitating how hard it was for
her husband to start cm a long jpurney
that bitter morning without any break
fast.
“I can make a cup of coffee myself
oveJ . ^ b e furnace fire,” she exclaimed,
8 p r i r i g ing to her feet. But Mr. Chiekerly
again interposed : please. I would
"Hit down, Fanny,
rather you would sew this bntton on the
jj t . 0 k of my shirt. I have packed the
that are fit to wear. in' I
b ave storto enough, but not one re
„
’
Fanny crimsoned . _ she , remembered .
as
how often, in the course of the last
month or two, she had solemnly prom
lsed herself to devote a f day to themuch
n e f^f d ren07 ^ her h band 8
shirts. .
Hhe looked ncound for her thimble
^ la8t mgh4; * 111
in the sitting-room grate; it was- blazing
aud crackling cheerily could among toe fresh
coals, and Fanny not resist the
her ch£ ctuU f iliSraSfd 5 “ gerS watoTtto Wa gree “
ish -purple spires of flame shoot , merrily
up the chimney until she heard her bus
band’s voice calling her imperatively :
“Fanny 1 Fanny 1 what are you
' ^ "“Oh,
dear,” thought lf the wouldn’t wife, as she
rM1 wia Frank be
B0 crf*s. He’s always in a hurry.”
Little Mrs. Chiekerly never stopped to
think that the reason was that, she, his
wife, ^ was never “in a hurry.” ^
threadedi thimble fit -
K^ef/cteT 1 ’ 0 ^' 116 bnU ° D ™ ^
“01, dear. Frank, I haven’t one the
.
wh at you have then* but be
nuick quick- fl’
M ....
just the right button somewhere m
Her workbasket, and stopped to search
for lt .
.<Thore, I told you so !” she cried,
triumphantly holding it up on the poiu
of b er needle.
“Well, well, sew it on quick,” said
Mr . chiekerly, glancing at his
nerV0U8iy . worrying
.. T hat’s just your -way,
Frftnk . M if anybody hurry. could There sew a 1 but- mjf
OQ we U in a
net . c u e has come unthreaded 1”
**0h, Fanny, Fanny!” sighed her
husband, fairly out of patience at last,
"why didn’t yon do it last night, as I
of you ? I shall miss the train;
aud wb at little chance we had of a place
Aunt Elizabeth’s will, will be sacri
lleed to your miserable habit of being
dway8 behindhand.” »
Fanny gave him the shirt and began
to whimper a little; but Mr. Chiekerly
b ad neither the time nor the inclination
to pause to soothe her petulant mani
testation of grief. He finished his dress'
ing, caught up his valise with a hnrrie.lt
ly-spohen , „ good-by, - , » and , ran dn down wn
stairs, two steps at a time, into the
Btre £, t -
“There he goes,” „ mm'mnred Fanny;
“and he s gone away cross wnth me and
a11 I (°. r u there ‘! tluug hut a t miserable such thing button a 1
wisu wasn a as
button m the world. (A wish which, we
much misdoubt, many another wife than
Mrs. Fauuy Chiekerly lias echoed, with
perhaps better reason.)
Mrs. Chiekerly was sitting down to
' K ‘ r httle dinner a la solitaire, y 1 " 1 a
daintily-browned chicken tumbler of
currant jelly and a curly bunch of cel
cry ranged before her, when, to her walked sur
pnae, the door opened and in
her lord and husband.
“Why, Frauk, where on earth did you
come from? cried the astonished wife.
‘ Froni the office,” coolly answered
Mr. Chiekerly. thought off for
“ But 1 you were
Seenersville, in such a hurry?” too
“I found myself just five minutes
late for the train, after having run all
the way to the depot.”
“Oh, that was too bad !”
Chiekerly smiled a little as he began
to carve the chicken.
“Yes. I was a little annoyed at first:
it <tic! seem rather provoking to be kept
at onI y a * )lltt °n.”
“What you going to do ? ’
ar-e
“Why, I shall make a second start to¬
morrow.”
‘‘I’ll see to it that your breakfast is
ready this time to a second, and all your
wardrobe in trim, ” said Fanny, rather
relieved at the prospect of a chance to
retrieve her character.
"You need not I have engaged a
room at a hotel near the depot. lean’,
run any more risks.”
He did not speak unkindly, and yet
Fanny felt that he was displeased with
her.
“But, Frank——”
“AYe will not dismiss the matter any
.nrther, my love, if you please. I havo
to say nothing more to you
about reforms. I see it is useless, and
it only tends to foster an unpleasant Shall I
state of feeling between ns.
help you to some macaroni ?”
Anti fairly silenced, Fanny ate her
firmer with what appetite was left to
her.
Three days afterward Mr. Chiekerly
once more made his entrance, just at
dusk, carpet-bag in hand, as Fanny sat
enjoying the ruddy shine of the ooal
fire and the consciousness of having per
formed her duty in the mending and
general renovating of her husband’s
drawerfnl of shirts—-a job which she
had so long been dreading and postpon¬
ing. “Well, how
is Aunt Elizabeth?”
questioned welcomed Fanny, when her husband,
duly himself in the and greeted, had seated
opposite easy-chair.
“Dead,” was the brief reply.
“Dead ! Oh, Frank ! Of her old
enemy, apoplexy ?”
“Yes.” “Waii
her will made 9”
“It was. Apparently da/ she had ex
pected appointed; me, on the she herself had
and on my non-arrival in the
only train that stops she sent for the
village ■ lawyer, made ber will, and left
all , her property . to . the ., orphan , asylum , in
Seen ere vil e, with a few bitter words to
the effect that the neglect of her only
living nephew had induced her on the
spur of the moment to alter her original
intention of leaving it to him. She died
th ?.^. ry ^ eX U m ? rnmg '
ren U thousand ran ^’ h,°Y dollars. much^was a it. „„
There was a moment or two of silenee,
and then Mr. Chiekerly added, com
posecily:
“Yon see, Fanny, how much that
missing bntton bas cost me f’
Fanny Chiekerly sat like one eon
dernned by the utterance of her own
conscience. Not alone the one missing
button^ but the scores—nay, hundreds
— of ^fling omissions, forgetfulnesses
and postponements which made her life
one endless endeavor to “catch up” with
tlie transpiring present, seemed to
present themselves before her mind’s
eye. What would this end in ? Was
not tke present Jeg^n sufficiently mo
mentoas to teach her to train herself in
a different school ?
Bhe rose and came to her husband’s
side, laying one tremulous band on his
shoulder 1
Bha]1 u no m0Ie mfesin „ but .
tons, my love,” she said, earnestly.
/’ ^ P
U() hiBOwn . aad not a wor d was
8aid more than this upon forgotten the subject.
BttJ . it was Bofc refolutely Fanny
Chiekerly set herself to work
to uproot the n*nk weeds growing in the
* ga r Jen of her life. And she succeeded,
we all may do when we resolve to do
a wi8e thing.
-------
BIRDS ON THE FARM.
-
The Robin.
^ , r r hrouvelot, , of f M Med 1f d, M l 3.,
‘
^ . m raising silk-worms for
^ tho P r °f/‘ 'Z * .!
ml / fo od our Americal1 roL * red ‘
^ SL f of seven or eight acres,
Wjth "of® ^ * W ? t0 m8 | ,r< TT ? tcct if’ them W f g Tiff *. b / dS
’
would , t occasionally 1 break , m, and of these ,
* h «» «" *• '•“* <».
to one of any other kind It was the
season of small fruits, and huckleberries
nbounded in the fields close by, but
when he opened the crop of each robin
killed m his enclosure, he found nothmf
at all hut insects.
To test their destructiveness m this
direction still further, he exposed a
thousand of his silk-worms on a scrub
oak, which he causedMo be watched. In
three or four days the worms were all
gone. The robins, with them some help from
the cat-birds had eaten every one.
Mr. Trouveiot, tnough a loser himself,
gave the result of his experiment for the
farmers benefit.
The robin Belongs to the thrns
family, all of whomare enormonsinsect
eaters; but the redbreast beats devours. them all
in the number of kinds he
A son of Mr Wilson Flagg caught
three young robins and fed hem wit
angle-worms and soaked bread. j-liey
soon died. He then caught tliree more,
and fed them with angle-worms and a
Uttle fruit. Two of these died, and
then his father told him to _ the
give sur
vivor insects to eat, and a variety of
- them. Accormngly all sorts of beetles,
mo n 1Si grubo, bugs, vine-worms, chry
salids aud caterpillars were procured
aud ]aid b ef 0 re the bird. He ate them
and soon recovered his health. He
a i wiVys killed tnem before he swallowed
them, aud once when a hard beetle
failed to “set well” in his crop, he threw
^ up andgaue it another thorough
pounding, after which he swallowed it
aenin. '
it has been proved that agrowing
young [ n\ robin requires considerable more
ha is own weight of animal food
8Very day; and during the season of
tearing their young the old birds forage
almost exclusively upon insects. A sm
g j e oue has been known to kill eight
hundred in one day. who lose
Farmers and horticulturists
patience with the robins, because they
sometimes touch their cherries, straw
berries aud grapes, can afford to heed
the advice of the naturalists before they
strike down such pretty birds. “It
does no harm to put up scare-crows in
your trees and gardens to keep them
| away, but it hardly pays to kill poetically them.
The redbreast is not only
but literally the friend of man. — Youth’s
Companion.
Fools and Their 3Ioiie. ( .
One of the strangest developments of
tlie Grant & Ward failure is that a ntim
her of wealthy persons who seemed to
have earned whatever money they had
were willing to make one so-called in
vestment after another without knowing
how their cash was being used or wheth
er there was any security for its return.
Nearly every newspaper story about the
failure tells of some Uusiness man—th.e
name generally being suppressed—who
lent the firm money, not only once, but
on several occasions, expeettog to get a
higher rate of interest than ever was
honestly earned on large stuns. Only
one person appears really to have inves
tigated the Everybody alleged sources else, of regardless the firm’s of
profits. business experience lent their
money
whenever they were asked for it, and
were too well satisfied to think of going
off to ask questions. To the old adage
that “a fool and his money are soon
parted should be added: “Outside of
their own business most men are fools.
—Sew lork Herald.
The Chicago Tribune is said to pay a
dividend of twenty-five per oent a year
on a capital of §l 1 lW 1 'kK).
THE DUTIES OF PARENTS.
MR. BEECHKR’S ILLUSTRATION OF
HOW CHILDREN OltlllT TO BE
REARED.
Lives ihat are Worth Living—Nature’s Be
setting f*ins— Anrn«:onia!ns of Capital
aud Labor—!?oul» that are Dead.
Mr. Beecher took for his text on Stm
day the words of the gospel of St. Mark
-‘‘Suffer the little children to come
nut .° a J\ d forbid them no^, lor ol
such is the kingdom of God. We learn
much of the relation of children to hu
man life and the world from evomtum
and its doctrineSi he said . The lower
forms of animal life in the invertebrate
^ d relations W!tll one of or offspring two exception^ thefr
gho w no £ to
parentfi eicept the phys a i. There is
nQ ] ove or recognition. The spawn of
the fish fill the river, and that they know
nothing about them except they are
hatched, ^ and, perhaps, j// to eat them. As
we asCfc d we fiad the parental rela
b on a 8 t €a dy undercurrent, an increase
j n t be f orce binding parents and off
spring together. In the vertebrates it is
distinctly made manifest. In the birds,
among the fowls of the air and as well
as of the barnyard, there is a strong
parental affection, though narrow and
simple. Among the mammals, which
feed their young at their own bosoms,
parental feeling is still more strongly
developed, and they are nearer together.
The lioness is a strong lover of her
whelp, and is sagacious in caring her for it.
The cow nurses and mourns calf
when taken away. In the human race
the love of children is wide in scope,
rich in variety and enlarged in every
sense. No poet or philosopher has ever
put in words the rich fruit of the imag
illation which hovers over a Christian
mother’s cradle. It is to her as the
manger cradle was to Mary. The Star
Mgs. things Her reason and fancy bring all
near and far to crown Him. It
the mother’s fancies of her child could
be written by some angelic reportorial
band, embodying her best thoughts,
winged imaginations and shining wou
ders, it would be fit to be read in the
library of heaven. Over the cradle a
royal woman poors out her nature to the
yet, melefi chM!’° ThT love of°God’te
man, Mr. Beecher said, was like the love
of a mother for her child. He endeav
ored to bring before the world an idea
o{ love 0 { Q od that the weak and
need woulJ look to ffim „ their be8t
friend, ready to help each one.
kel^mTshtolding them from g the dam
in whisky ^Menotroagreed should
hat the traffic be reg
ulated and not be free for every one to
- But the liouor dealers
inals; that because tbev keep grog shops
tb purcha8e immunity from punish
meat The f law requiring q the liquor
to , )( closed Q u Suaday is a re .
8 t r i c u on w hich aids in the sancity of the
Sabbath. The community J thought it
best ' ag men were id off Saturday
nigh ^ t> ’ uo t to expose them to the ternpta- £
0 f ^ euding on a ho]iday all t eir
bard j f ^ the ]° g orgeous ° / i y
a ^ inted liquor ^ 6 ores and av uot
for th ir fami]ie8 . Mr . Beecher
ca i )ed attention to the fact that one of
^] ie p 0 Hce Commissioners, who is one of
the Excise Commissioners, had directed
saloon keepers to keep their shades
ope n so that the officers of the law can
see j. ba t there is no violation, but a dele
nation of brewers and saloon keepers
called on the Mayor and protested
agaiust what they considered au injus
Mr. Beecher said he did not be
jj eye the Mayor approves of their keep
ing the shades closed. Why not keep
the shades open? There are about one
thousand two hundred out of 2,200 sa
loon keepers Sunday. who defy the law cheat and sell
geeretly others’corrimt on They the
it’ public morals and claim
that is the custom—that thev ^and have
been allowed to Mterf^ed do it in the past now? bo
be with
* yr,. Beecher exhorted all who believed
in tb e cradle and the home to secure the
en f orcemen t 0 f the laws so that the
children nnv be reared to good and law
abiding citizens The Excise Commis
| sioners Sioners and and the the Mayor xuay n, he ne said sa a, arehou- . le u
^ j Mavo/tiaT'e.rule peaca ^witii the brew
*
-, hnnor dpaiers he should also
^I th^t It had bee n
j f d “ “alers the Mayor favom the views of
h e ‘T/lieve but said Mr. Beecher, “I
do n - t it, thou-h fr.au a mVisterof the
riosnel told me so ehter 1 I hon
or Mayor hleUino’ Low. He has been a wonder
f n | in his ofliee and I do not
think on the random testimonv of an en
ergetic and zealous minister that he is
leaning to the brewers or sellers of liq
nor. If I learn that it is true I sha>
know what to say.” Mr. Beecher closed
by denouncing extravagance in legisla
tion for civic buildings and advocated
j be construction of more spacious school
houses,
The Citizen Soldiers.
Tlie old-fashioned competitive militia
company drill tournaments, which used
to be so popular in the North and Last,
are still in great favor through the Soutn
and Southwest, lt will be remembered
| that the encampment held in Nashville
last year was very successful, being at
tended by some spectators and partici
pants from great distances. Houston is
going to hold a like encampment early in
31 ay for prize drills of infantry, artillery
find zouaves. Tiiis location for an inter
State drill is decidedly in a corner of the
country, but the unprecedented first
prize of So,000. with other prizes
amounting to §9,500, should be enough
to attract crack companies from all parts
of the South at least, while some North
em companies might take the opportu
nity to see Texas at a most favorai.e
time of the year.
_____
Absence of mind : “Yes, Charley is a
good enough sort of fellow,” remarks
Tom; “but then he is so confoundedly
alnent-minded ! He borrowed five dol
lors of me the other day, and when he
called at my place to return the money,
Wowed if lie didn't forget what he came
f° r aQ d actually borrowed another
£ Tcr *!
HIS HONOR AND BIJAH.
The ."Itan whom Hnnner Sent Awnr 1rom
Home and who was Anxious w Get
Back Again.
[From the Detroit Free Press.]
“George William Swift!” began Ms
Honor in a voice which seemed to be
made up of cold-chisels and nitric acid,
“you were here only two weeks ago !”
“Bet you a load of the best timothy
hay in Wayne county agin’ a shirt but¬
ton that I wasn’t l” promptly replied the
prisoner. with
“Weren’t yew here, charged
drunkenness ?”
“Not by a jug-fnll! I hain’t bin in
Detroit afore for two months, and I
wouldn’t come in now if Hanner hadn’t
wanted-”
“Never mind Hanner. You are charged
with drunkenness.”
“That’s all right, Judge, but if it
hadn’t bin for Hanner you’d never got
your claws on me. She wanted some
shoes and three yards of unbleached
factory, and-”
“Prisoner, you were found lying in
the mud flat on your back, drunk as the a
False Prophet, and shivering with ”
cold like a rabbit on an iceberg.
“Wall, do I deny it ? Don’t I know
that I was overcome ? And how was it ?
Didn’t Hanner say to me as I left home
that-”
“Prisoner, what has Hanner got to do
with this case?” demanded the court.
“You’d find out purtv quick if she
was here I” grinned the prisoner. “She’d
talk your eyebrows off in twenty seconds.
Hanner is my second wife. She wears a
No. 7 shoe and kin whistle like a man.’’
“Prisoner, do you plead guilty to this
charge ?”
“No, sir l I want Hanner here for a
witness. There hain’t no use in your
going on and scaring a fellow half to
death in that way. Gimme a show.”
“What has your second wife got to do
with this case?”
“Just as much as my first wife. If
she hadn’t wanted me to come to town I
shouldn’t have got drunk. Say, don’t
jump at me so suddenly. It’s Lemme tell
you how it happened. the first
time I’ve sloshed around for ’leven
years, and there hain’t no call to send
me up for life. ”
“You ought to be ashamed of your¬
self.”
“So I am. If you’d offer me $100 to
look my old dog in the face I couldn’t
do it. I tell ye, Squar, I’ll have explain to do a
heap of home.” skulking and lying to
this at
‘ ‘Perhaps you oan stay sober for the
next year.”
‘ ‘Next year ! Why, if yon’il let me
off I’ll take my solemn Davy Crookett
to keep sober for the next millyon years !
Squar’, gimme a show ! Gimme this one
chance, and if you ever see me here agin
you may hang me !”
He was allowed to depart, and the
whoop of joy he uttered at the door
made ail the windows rattle.
The Vicissitudes of a Life.
Joel C. Harris, the famous humorist
of the South, has had a strangely mis¬ ro¬
mantic career. His father was a
sionary, and it was at the small town of
Boog-liia, on the southern coast of Af¬
rica, that Joel was bom. He was ed¬
ucated by his father and acquired a
wonderful acquaintance with foreign
languages. He is au adept Sanskrit
scholar, and is deeply versed in Hebraic
and Buddhist literature. The sweetly
quaint legends of Indian and Judean
mythology have found their way Mto
his simple Southern tales, aud the spirit
of his philosophy is identical with the
teachings of Moses and Buddha. Some
years before the civil war young Harris
came to America and taught school in a
village near Lake Teeteelootchkee, in
Florida. While thus employed he made
the acquaintance of Sallie Quid Curtis,
the daughter of a wealthy planter. each
These two soon fell in love with
other. Subsequently Harris was en¬
gaged by Colonel Curtis as there private
tutor for his children, and was
no objection made to the young man’s
attentions to Miss Sallie, then a radiant
creature of sixteen. Tlie war came on;
Colonel Curtis raised a regiment with
his private means; young Harris speedily en¬
listed as a private, and was
promoted to a captaincy. Not only did
Colonel Curtis lose all his property by
the rebellion, but in the battle of Col¬
umbia, S. C., a grape shot tore his lower
limbs into shreds. To fill his cup of
bitterness, and to blight the life of Joel
Harris forever, the beautiful Sallie Ould
Cuitis died of yellow fever the very day
her lover and crippled father returned
from four years of war. Harris had but
one mission in life now, and that was
the support and comfort of the maimed
sire of his sweetheart. The two lived
together in an ivy-covered love the cottage twain near bear
Atlanta, and the
each other is beautiful to contemplate.
Mr. Harris is only forty years of age,
yet his snow-white hair tells the sorrow
of his life. Generous, amiable and
tender, he is a fair example of the maailv
nobility which, tried by adversity and
chastened by grief, has naught in it of
dross.
The Base Ball Season.
,
q^he championship base ball season
j has opened wltb an intensity of popular if
j nterest no t surpassed in former years,
ever Assemblages’of e q lla j edi says the New York Sun.
fifteen thousand spec
{ators h, some cities, and of ten or twelve
thousand in others, watched Thursday’s
g arQeS| ’ while those of the two subse¬
q uen t days were also witnessed bv
greater throngs; yet the competition of
oilier open-air sports lias been much, in*
creased 0 f i a t e . If the excitement over
tbe chie{ contests is not always main
taine d to the close of the season, this re¬
suJt ig partly due to t h e uniform supe
j rioritT 0 f certain clubs. In the League,
for example, from its foundation to the
present time, the championship pennant
bag heen passed those around Boston, between three
c i ub s only, of Chicago
and Providence. The second place as
i well as the first has usually fallen to one
1 of these. The New York club has again
opened the season, as it did last May, by
winning three games in succession. For
the sake of the general interests of the
j League, it is hoped that either this club
; or some one of the others that have
j been hitherto invariably shut out from
, the coveted emblem may win it this
ytatt.