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At Night
^ n ight, when work is done, ’mid shadows
gray that darken
An(1 c ii ug about the window, where once the
sun was bright,
Swee t sounds come back again, to which we
used to hearken,
At night!
4t night, though we are old, and the gray
"shadows clinging
Presage to us that shoro where there is no
more light;
Sometimes 1 here come again sweet airs of
childhood's singing,
At night!
.tt night we two may sit in shadow, open
lrearted;
Long since the time has passed when hope
” sight!
was all in
Softly we sing the songs of happy days de
parted
At night!
At night the cricket’s voice sounds through
the shadows dreary; ■
Our songs, ala*! like his, have neither charm
nor weight;
We only rest and sing, hushed hopes and
voices weary,
At night!
—The Argosy.
CAUGHT AT LAST.
BY- M. CADY.
I never shall forget how it fared with
me twenty years ago, when, as a girl of
eighteen, I visited my friend, Mrs.
Miranda Brown, who with her invita
tion wrote me these few lines:
“It will be such an excellent time to
come, Olivia, for Mr. Silas Silkskin is
in New York making purchases for his
uncle’s store, and will be delighted to
escort you back, And I’ll never speak
to you again if you don’t come.”
This threat decided me. I. awaited
Mr. Silkskin’s arrival with impatience,
and had my trunks already packed,
when one evening some one was heard
to rap violently upon the front door—
an unnecessary exertion, considering the
I fact that there was a bell—and a voice
I I of exceeding meekness inquired of
Biddy:
| “Say, do you know anybody by the
I nave of O-l-i-v-i-a—Olivy; L-double e,
|Lee—Olivy Lee? 1 asked at the gro
■ eery man’s, but he did not know; and I
■ went to the doctor's shop, and he said
■ he reckoned ’twas here. Is it?”
I I It was Mr. Silkskin, who had the en
■velope in which my friend had placed
■his letter of introduction to me in his
Stand. He was a small, very young man,
■with a baby face; and he smiled all over
Hashe poked the letter at me and said:
| If | “You are Mis? Olivy Lac, I reckon.”
This was Mr. Silkskin. He had come
to tea and to stop over all night, and to
start off in the morning, to the aston
phmentof butdone my parents. But, not to be
in hospitality by Western folk,
(bey welcomed him heartily; and sitting
bn the sofa, he smiled at intervals and
lowered, ‘Yes, ma’am,” and ‘‘Y'es,
p<l»iry | :r (” to every proposition. When an
was made as to Chickamahoo,
|e replied, “that all it wanted was more
plies’ society,” and then added:
■'Talking of that, I swow, I’ve forgot!’
pd produced a note. It was from my
■iend, and read as follows:
Dear Olivia: Bring me on a hard-work
girt. Hannah has left me to be married.
uoose an ugly one, or she’ll marry in
| ont h, a
I inclose check for her fare.”
•
“Come an hour ago,” said Mr. Silk
m.
/ Can get a girl,” said I, remem
,rin o °ur Aid Society and Mar
het, who poor
could not get a place on
,COlin t her unprepossessing
6, 'h appear
| r ut Hannah married? Han
hfi.ty, and ljas been with the fam
j i always,”
4 'Lad ics,’' said Mr. Silkskin, “are
F ce Chickamahoo.”
instantly sent a messenger to Mar
I ll* ’ masked, "h° lame was forty, red-haired,
Ind of one foot, and
of one eye, —told her to pack
°nce and up
meet us at the depot m the
* m S’- "which, to
s he did. cut a long story
1 be We entered the cars,
° an °'ii' long journey in silence.
ting it 8 progres Margaret howled
^ lla 'ty °ver “the lonsotneness” of
^ situation, and Mr. Silkskin ap
rc t° become
He almost deaf and
I smiled occasionally; and
en s poke, he said,
hat >/ “Yes, ma’am,”
was all.
IIl ' aQ *kile
sed with a portly gentleman con
l' me over the back of the
- Punting out pi ace3 G f interest,
“ me newspapers and bringing
<S ^ Inen * 9 at stopping-places.
len lalcdT"? h
WhCre 1 Wa3 and
U that destination
Ch 'j atnahoo, my
h e said that be was
r th ey needed ladies’ society
^ Ue kind,
respectable, old
•aough to be my father, and really re
lieved the tedium of my journey great
ly. As wo approached our final stop
ping-place, he addressed Silas Silkskin
in these words:
“Young man, you take this cigar
and go smoke it in the smoking, car,
then come back.”
Silas stared at him, but finally said
< > Yes, sir,” and went, The stranger
instantly took his scat.
‘‘I want to ask you something,” he
explained. 4 4 Are you Mrs. or Miss?’
“Miss,” I said.
“Engaged to that young man I sent
away?” he inquired.
“Oh, no,” I answered.
“Ah!” said he. “Going to be?”
“Heaven forbid!” I answered.
t l Very well,” he observed “I’m Sam
uel Price, of Chickamahoo; I’m rich, a
widower, but no children. I want a
second wife. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, no, indeed!” said I; “of course
not!”
“Is that final?” he asked.
“Yes,” said I; “of course it is.”
“Good morning, said ho. “If you
change your mind, let me know. I’m
a solid man in Chickamahoo. Your
friends will advise you to have me.
No offence on either side. Good-bye.”
He shook hands; Silas returned; the
station was reached; we alighted.
Margaret was sent ahead with the
trunks; wo mounted into what was
called a public carryall, and Silas draw
ing near to me, assumed a seutimental
look.
“We pass the squire’s,” he stated.
“Do we?” asked I.
‘‘Y'es: and Dominie Brown’s too.”
“Ah!” I responded.
“Yes,” said Silas. “Which would
you ruther hev marry us, squire or
dominie?”
“I think you have gone crazy, Mr.
Silkskin!” I ejaculated.. “We have
only known each other a few days.”
“That don’t make no difference
here,” said Silas.
“Oh, don’t it?” asked I, ironically.
“Y'ou needn’t be so sarcastical,” said
Silas, “x’m real smart, and shall have
a store of my own. I aint to be de
spised. Is there any prior attachment?”
L I No,” I admitted, “if you must
know.”
“Oh, well,” said Silas, “then you’ll
change your mind when you’ve seen
more of me.”
“Oh, dear, no, that can’t make any
difference,” said I.
“What’s the matter with me,” asked
Silas, “that you’re so short? I’ve sot
my heart on it. You’re so pretty, and
your clothes fit you so good, I bet a
dollar you’ll change your mind some
day.”
“When I do I’ll let you know,”
said I.
i • Very well,” said Silas. “Iuudcr
stand that that is sarcastical, too, and
as things be I’ll go. My room will be
preferable to my company. This is the
Brownses.”
He helped me down, smiled at me
spasmodically, and drove away, As I
rang the bell I heard a hubbub of voices
within, and, as the door was open, cn
tered without . furthor , ceremony. In T .i the
hall stood my trunk and Margaret’s
green box. Margaret herself sat perched
upon it, with triumph in her one green
eye, while Mrs. Brown wept in her Bos
ton rocking-chair.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
Everyone turned, Greetings were
given. The explanations followed.
Margaret had engaged herself on the
-way over to tho man who drove the
wagou with the trunks.
4 4 He was that perrickiler to have me,
I couldn’t say No,” said Margaret, try
mg to blush, “And lie’s a house and
farm iv his own.”
“Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Brown; “but
stay a month with vis. He’ll wait; he 11
wait.”
“I’ll not thry that," said Margaret.
“There’s many a shlip twix’ cup and
lip. And I wonder you ever say the
like to a poor gurrul like me. I’ll have
him whilst I have the chance.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Brown, resigning
herself to fate, “it’s the way here. All
alike.”
“I looked at Hie six Misses Browns,
ran ging in ago from sixteen to twenty
six. All blushed at once.
“Y'es,” said Airs. Brown, “they were
all engaged in a week from out arrival.
And they will all be married tomorrow.
I told you to bring your light blue silk,
you know.”
The next evening I was dancing at
the wedding. There was no lack of
partners. The gentlemen greatly out-
SCHLEY COUNTY NEWS.
numbered the ladies. I assure you that!
when I had danced four dances, I had
refused as many offers. But when I
stood up in a Virginia reel with a
native Chickamahooiaa he surprised
me.
“Forward to meet your partner,” sang
the leader of the dance.
We met.
“You’re the prettiest girl in the
parts,” remarked the native Chick
amahooian.
I retired.
Li Right hand.”
“And I’m goin’ to hcv you,” said he.
“You’re not,” said L
“Left hand.”
“I’m a catch for any gal,” said he.
I m half hoss, half alligator, I am. Re
member that.”
“111 take the warning,” said I.
“Both hands.”
“If you won’t have me now, when
will you?” said he.
“Never,” said I.
Our wild interchange of partners
commenced; then our gallop.
“You’d better not take a shine to
any other fellow to-night,” said he.
“I’ll put fin inch of cold steel into him,
if you do. I know my lights, I do,
and I go armel.”
I danced no more that night. Mrs
Brown comforted me with the state
ment that these were Chickamahoo
ways, and that I’d like it soon, but let
me sit in a corner beside her, where,
she being a widow, I heard her receive
four or five offers from elderly gentle
men, which she declined with a polite
“Thank you; not this time,” as though
they had been plates of ice cream, and
I began to understand Chickamahoo
customs.
I will add that during the next week
offers were made to me in church, in a
shop, and at a funeral; but after awhile
I did grow use to it, and felt no alarm.
I stayed, in.fact, until the winter came,
and skating commenced; and one day
we were on the pond, when, gliding
gleefully around a turn of the bank, I
ran into a gentleman’s arms. I knew'
him. It was the Browns family doc
tor, a handsome man of thirty. Wtf
sat looking at each other.
“Hurt?” asked he.
“No,” said I. “Are you?”
“Yes,.” said he, “about the heart.
Miss Olivia, will you let me tell you
how jpuch I have always admired you?
Now I love you!”
“I can’t help it,” said I. “I can’t
get up.”
“I’ll let you stay where you are until
you answer me another question,” 'said
he. “Could you like me?”
“I guess so,” said I.
“Then I’m the happiest man aliv
said he.
He scrambled up, helped me to my
feet, and we skated back to our party,
“My dear, ” I said, in a whisper to
my friend, “the sprit of Chickamahoo
has entered into me. I was not engaged
when I skated around that corner. Now
I am .—New York Ledger.
A Cheap Telephone.
A telephone can be very easily made
for home use, and will work well forty
rods or more. Buy small copper wire,
have a box for each house about the size
of a cigar box, with cover; the box
should be two or three inches deep. In
the cover make a small round hole about
as large as a pea, and directly opposite
another as large as a silver dollar. Piace
the small hole next the wall. Between
the box and wall must be p’aced four
small pieces of rubber—taken from the
heel of an old rubber boot. Now draw
the wire tight enough to hold the box
in place, wind around a nail placsd
across the large opening, and your tele
phone is done, Care must be taken
that the wire docs not come in contact
with anything, Leather straps can be
tacked to posts or tree3 to keep the wire
in place.
A Dog Saves Four Lives.
A big Newfoundland dog named
Pete, who belongs to Mr. Smith, in
Belmont, Westchester County, N, Y.,
saved four little boys from drowning re
cently. George Smith, 14; his brother,
Oscar, 8; Frank Wilson, 13, and an
other little boy got into a boat on a
mill creek near their home. The rope
broke and the boat drifted into tho
stream and started toward the dam.
The dog saw the boys’ danger, and ho
plunged into the stream and swam out
to the boat. One of the boys grasped
his collar, and noble Pete towed the
boat safely to shore. Since then ho has
been the hero of the town.
THE OVIDOR.”
Rio’s Broadway and the People
Who Frequent It.
The Greatest Street on the
American Continent.
The Ovidor is a narrow street, but
the grandest on this continent, and for
some things the grandest in the A\ cst
era Hemisphere, says a Rio Janeiro
(Brazil) •correspondent of the ( harlcston
News and Conner. No vehicle or brute
creature is allowed on it. From store
across to store the street is full. It
looks queer to see people in the middle,
but it is not Broadway. There is no
rush. Every one has leisure. The men
in elegant broadcloth, silk hats and •dia
monds puff their cigarettes, stand in
groups, stare and talk.
Ovidor means eardrum pet, and the
name is appropriate. Here politics is
talked from morn till night and, for all
I know, from night till morn. Here
students and artists knot together, and
here society men gossip. Everybody
goes to the Ovidor for the news.
Here one buys the finest of every
thing: diamonds, silks, millinery,
feather flowers, stuffed birds, laces, etc.
Thi3 is the best place for seeing the
grand ladies. They shop in costumes
which are almost full evening dress. A
bonnet or hat of exquisite materials,
fashioned direct from Paris, slippers,
fan, elegant kids and plenty of jewelry,
all make something startling to plain
folks. The ladies are pretty, only al
most all are too fat. Even young girls
are so. These are always attended by
chaperons.
There are two distinct classes, irre
spective of color—the rich, and the
poor working people. The Americans
and English are the middle class, and,
as far as dress goes, when I see a plain,
neat dress, straw hat, kid gloves,etc., 1
know the wearer is a foreigner. The
The working women, black and native
Brazilians, all wear dark skirts, one or
two frills, with sacques, a shawl or
cloak, and absolutely nothing on the
head. No matter how hot, every one
wears a wrap, and, if the sun be scorch
ing, they go bareheaded, except occa
sionally a plain parasol.
•The fine ladies do not go out much,
except on the Ovidor. One sees them
mostly late in the afternoon or at night.
Their dress is silk, lace or some elegant
wool, always light weight and generally
light color, except that now there is a
sad amount of black for the recent
scourage. They follow our idea of
French styles, much trimming, tight
lacing, perfect fitting and such com
binations that no dress can be easily
imitated. They cling to bustle*, pointed
toes, and hat with the most elegant
flowers I ever saw.
Diamonds are quite common. Brace
lets of gold arc heavy enough to be a
burden; and gloves are so fresh, long
and perfect that one could die of envy
without half trying, if she were envious
of fine dressing in every detail.
Next to the mountains and the bay
the loveliest things are the flower yards.
Every house has a flower yard, no mat
ter how small. Generally there arc
palms and large, bright foliage plants
and roses. The beds are all fanciful,
the walks are perfectly kept, and every
thing is as neat as possible.
There is very little turfing; often
therq are statues, grottoes, pavilions,
etc. But every house is a fortress of
itself. Generally the wall of stone is
surmounted by an iron railing with top
of spikes, the whole from eight to
twelve feet high, or perhaps more. The
massive iron gate is locked, and one
stands on the pavement and rings to
know if the senora i?TVi. It does not
look very hospitable, Through the
gateway we get a view of tho lovely
grounds, often quite large.
Molasses Tasting: as a Profession,
The professional molasses taster is a
martyr. Imagine a man having to snm
plc twenty-five or thirty grades of that
syrup, says the Boston Herald, and
then trying to eat a square meal. Oh,
yes he can, is the reply. To be sure he
tastes of thirty kinds of molasses in one
day, but he does not swallow a parti
cle, at least not more than a particle,
This requires practice, this abstinence
from swallowing, and is the great diffi
culty in the beginner’s path. He must
protect his teeth, too, and therefore his
masticators require careful cleansing,
not alone to prevent decay, but in order
to keep his gustatory sense perfect!/
neutral.
‘ ‘I have been a molasscA taster fur
several years,”, said a Boston man, “and
I assure you mine is no easy job. Thro*
is a strain that the occupation impose^,
and one that many succumb to, aadL
therefore quit the business. The to ague,
being very sensitive, requires great
care, and therefore I feel it best not (•
use tobacco, sweetmeats, or highly-*•;*
sonc( j food. Doctors tell me that sugar
0 f jtsclf does not injure the teeth, huA
that after remaining on them for soiao
rime undergoes a chemical change froiii
the saliva and food, and that the chena
ical result is corrosive.
“Whether this is so or no I know that
my teeth have suffered from th:s bini>
ness, although I take extraordinary cars.
The difference in taste between sc;*}
grades of molasses is so slight that the
tongue must be in a perfect neutral co»r
dition in order to be an accurate guide.
But uot only must the tongue ho
cared for, but mouth, lips, and teetk
must be as free as possib’e from sajr
foreign substance.
“In tasting of the various brand* I
place only a drop on the most sensitiwa
part of the tongue. I try to Reep
away from the lips, mouth, and leetk,
but do not always succeed, Now, f*»
discriminate between twenty-five ■esn*
ples I must keep a clear head, concen
trate my attention, and make, as tt
were, an instantaneous analysis. T5»
do this faithfully requires brain work
that book-writers know nothing abouL
In fact, a day at honest, painstaking
molasses-tasting is a day of Lard, 1
almost said solitary, labor.”
Electric Lamps for Travelers.
One of the latest novelties in the ap
plication of electricity consists oi am
electric reading-lamp, which is beiagr
fitted to the carriages on the main line
of the Southeastern railway. It is on
the principle of the “put a penny is
the slot” automatic machines. The ap
paratus is situated immediately over the
passenger’s hea 1 and under the rack,
and is contained in a small box 5 inckae
by 3. The light is of live candle-powog
and is obtained by the introduction of a
penny at the top of the box, and by sLo
subsequent pressure of a knob, and will
last for half an hour, extinguishing
itself at the end of that time automati
cally. If the light be required for aa
indefinite period a penny every half-hour
will suffice. The light can be. ex tin
guisbed at any moment by means of •
second button provided for the purpose.
One of the special features of the invea
lion is that if the instrument is out of
order the penny is not lost, as it i* .*
the present machines. It drops right!
through and conies out at the bottom <tf
the box, so that it can be recovered,
and the same result happens in the case
of any coin other than a penny. Each
carriage is fitted with an accurrnilafa*
which supplies the electricity. This i*
vcntion will add greatly to the comfoct
of passengers during night journeys.
Gold Dollars, for Ornament.
“Almost al! of our gold dollars am
being U3ed for purposes, of ornament,
and their fate as a medium of cxchan^s
lias long been doomed,” said an official
of the Philadelphia mini recinti/.
“We are only coining about 5000 par
year for monetary oil• illation, aqd this
small amount is meant by the Treasurf
Department to be merely for the pur
pose of keeping enough on hand tm
make change in paying depositors <*f
gold bullion. If it were not for thn^
probably the coinage of gold dolf*r*
would be suspended. If we eoSuwsA
1,000,000 gold dollars yearly, the do
mand would not be satisfied. A Sew
days ago we received a letter fron* m
man living in Cincinnati who wanteft
100 gold dollars. We answered tLift
wo could not grant his request,
lie then wrote to the Secretary
of the Treasury at Wasbiag
ton, and the letter was referred to <5*
Director of the Mint, James F. Kit*
ball, who write to Hie gentleman -A
Cincinnati that lie could not be accwn*
modated. Director Kimball has offiLi
ly notified us by letter that the snraX
coinage ot gold dollars should be di*
tributed from the Mint here with car^
not to allow them to pass into the hatuEi
of manufacturers for mutilation
dental to conversion into articles df
adornment .”—Philadelphia liicord.
... ...... .
Train a child up in tho way he should
„ 0 an Q when he is old he will not ba
looking about for an elixir to putek
himself ud with. 4