Newspaper Page Text
Slic JHmrtgotnerj) iltonitot*
D. C. SUTTON, Editor and Prop’r.
A DREAM OF FAIR OCCASION'S.
In tho darkening shadc-R of twilight,
As I wondered, sore distraught,
Griefs and woes of days departed
Surged unbidden on my thought;
Joys and sorrows intermingled
In the memories of the Test,
Fair occasions, lost and vanished—
All too beautiful to last.
Suddenly between my vision
And the lurid setting sun,
I beheld a troop of shadows
Dimly rising one by one.
But though filmy, vague, and shapeless,
Loose and thin and undefined,
Gathering form and seeming substance
In the rushing of the wind.
Gradually in human semblance,
Draped in robes of trailing lust,
I could trace their pallid features
In the moonlight, new up-rist.
Silently thep flitted past, me,
Each with warning hand upraised,
Long and lank, and bare and skinny,
Pointing at me as I gazed.
Well I knew them ! friends and lovers
! I had seornod in days of yore,
Unobservant and ungrateful
For the blessings that they bore:
Blessings, Promises, and Chances,
! All by kindly Fortune planned,
To be molded to my purpose,
And be fashioned by my hand !
Fortune, Fume, Dominion, Glory,
Friendship, Love, and Peace of Mind
They had brought for my acceptance,
‘ I Had I known what they design'.d.
But I raw not, or neglected—
-1 Heedless mid the whirl of life,
j Lured by pleasure, s tayed by passion,
In the never-ending strife.
Blinded by misleading splendoss,
Prodigal of strength and youth,
Late my weary eyes were>opened
To the knowledge of the truth,
That I'd wasted life’s young mornia
And the noon-time, past return;
Burning up the years and leaving
Nought but ashes in the urn.
For a moment, as I sadly
Gazed and wonderod, every faco
Os the pallid ghosts and phantoms
Seemed to glow with youthful gran
And to woo me to caress them
As I might in Life’s young prims
Have caressod a radiant maiden,
My heart’s goddess for the time.
And I called in plaintive accents—
“ Stay, ye fair ones! stay, oh stay:
I am wiser. I am better
Than in Youth’s departed day;
I have learned from Sorrow’s teaching
Priceless truths too long unknown—
Stay and guide and shape the future,
Oh, my beautiful, mine own!”
Suddenly to gloom relapsing,
And vanishing from sight,
They were lost amid the darkness
Os the melancholy night.
And I heard as they departed,
Fitful as the winds that bore,
Mournful voices whispering faintly,
“Lost! oh, lost, forevermore!’’
Temple Par. Charles Mackey.
THE WEDDING DAY.
Belle c. cheene in amebican magazine.
Mr. Hawkins ho left the appointin’
of our weddin’ day to me, and I set it
tpr a Sunday. When you come ter
think on ’t, there don’t seem ter be many
days suitable for gittin’ married in. You
aee Monday’s washin’ day,and Tuesday’s
ironin’ day, and of course nobody would
be married a Friday; and Saturday's
bakin’ and cleanin’-up day, so there’*
only Wednesday und Thursday left, and
mother’ll me wanted that much time for
•xtiy odds and ends of work, and to
"turn round” in, as you might say. So
I set it a Sunday momin’ before fast
service.
Now, to begin with, I must tell you
that Mr. Hannibal Hawkins, the man I
was goin’ter marry, was what you'd call
odd, terrible odd, so that, although we’d
been keepin’company tergetherfor some
time, and I’d every chance ter git ac
quainted, yet I felt mor’illy certain that
it would boa good while ’fore I’d know
him all through. Not but what he was
a likely man—more tew, for he was a
church member in good and reg'lar
itandin’, and lie alwers had the name o’
bein’ a good husband to his fust wife,
and a good pervider and all that; but, as
I said, he was odd.
Wall ho come over the Saturday mor
nin’ before the weddin’, so’s ter be “on
band,” he said, and kinder dew for me
and mother.
We hadn't no men folks in the house
'cept Caleb Jones, the hired help, said
be wa’n’t much dependence at seeh a
time.
It was ’bout eight o’clock ir the fore
noon when Mr. Hawkins ’rived, and an
hour or tew later I got a letter from his
daughter Car’line. It was marked pri
vate, and read thus:
“Dear Miss Bobbins [That's me, Ruth Ann
Bobbins, ye know]: I write to caution you
about Par. I feel awful 'l'raid the clo’es he’s
fc-ok with him to be married in ain’t right. All
to once he was struck with one o’ bis odd
Streaks, acd insisted on packin' his bag bim
*elf. a thing he never done afore in ins life,
and the I,< rd only knows what he put into it;
I don’t. You must look him over real eba p
’fore ho goes in where the folks be.
“I’m sorry I can’t cue to the weddin’, but
I cut my bangs yesterday, and go! ’em so short
that I look tew hijeous f r anything. I've
e ied myself most sici:. I'm so d: app'luted,
ind Par says I'in s by ter stay away on account
o’ the bangs; but I can’t hep it": I'J rutin r
flie than go and show myself sc h a fright to
*ll them fo'ks -so there't i l -! I send you iny
love, arid I hope everything Will go off weli.
With respe. k. Cab line Hawkins.
“P. S. l'm afraid Par lets took odd boots.
Look out for him.”
I laughed when I read that letter; it
didn't trouble !,■ much of any. Thinks
I ter myself, “He i« 1 enough to pack
his own liner. ’! •--s he's a gnmp and a
fool, and if he is a gunip and a fool the
1 quicker we find it out the better!” 1
I felt the wust because Car'line wa’n’t
cornin’ to the weddin’. It worried me
to think she was so silly ’bout thorn
! bangs.
Wall, come Sunday momin’,
| when it was time to dress
| ourselves. Hannibal took one room
and I another and we begun. I’d
j just got; my hair nil down, when Hanni
! bal hollered tew me, and said he:
“Ruth Ann ! I wish you’d bring in
I your needle and thread and dew a little
| job o' sewin’ for me. I find my vest is
all split out behind, though goodness
: knows how it come so. I never wore it
j but once in my life. It’s a bran new
one.”
I thought then of Car'line’s letter,
and when I see the vest I knew in a
minute that ho had taken the wrong
one, but I sewed the old thing up, ns
well’s I could—a pretty lookin’ vest it
was to bo married in—and went back
to my room feelin’ a good deal disturbed
and anxious.
His next perdickermunt was wuss yet.
j This time he spoke to me so kinder
j quick and sharp, that 1 knew it was
somethin’ serious. I was jest puttin’
my dress over my head, but I didn’t
stop to half button it up, I hurried in
ter see what was the matter now. When
I opened the door, there stood Hanni
bal in the middle ’o the room, lookin’
down perplexed like and inquirin’ at
two old boots —you couldn’t call ’em a
pair, for I knew the minute I set eyes
on ’em that they both belonged to one
and the same foot! They both had a
round nob stickin’ up conspickewous
where the big toe went, and another great
bulgin’ one for the toe jint. I hadn’t
never noticed anything peculiar ’bout
Hannibal’s feet before, lint them two
boots did look curis enough, and they
looked kinder wicked and knowin’ some
how, as if they was enjoyin’ themselves !
I laughed, f couldn't helri it, but Hau
nibal didn’t even smile. He turned to
me, and said he:
“Do them two hoots look right to
you l” Then he tried on one, and that
was well enough, he put on the other,
and—wall, you can imagine how it
looked ! Os course the nobs and bul
gin’s come in tlie wrong places, and tho
hull foot was hind side afore and wrong
side tew, as you might say ! He took
’em off and revarsed ’em, hut still they
continnered ter disagree and look wicked
at one another. He squared ’em up tar
ge! her as square’s he could, and says
he:
“Ruth Ann, I believe them hoots is
tdd!"
“Ondoubtedly they be, Hannibal,”
rays T, “and they look odd ; but how do
they fed ? Can you wear ’em? That is
the question.”
“I don’t care a continental how they
feel,” says he, awful savage, “I’ll wear
’em if they kill me; but I dew wish they
didn’t look so like the —evil one !”
I felt like death, but I knew we’d got
to make the best of tho sitiwation, so I
says:
“Oh, I guess they won’t be noticed.
But you must bo sure and set with your
feet on the floor and drawed well back
under your chair, and you mustn’t ou no
’count cross your legs; or, if you do, be
sure and have tho right foot on top.”
Then I had ter leave him. 1 was all
worked up, but I managed ter finish my
toilit with mother’s help, and when I
was dressed I went into the spare cham
ber where the couples that Wits goin’ to
stand up with us was waitin’. I found
them all right, and finally Hannibal was
ready, and him and me locked arms and
perceeded down stairs, followed by the
others. Cousin Triphony and K’yal
Hunt come fust, then ’Mandy Plymp
ton and John Ray, then Cousin Sera
pliine and ’Siar Chase; there were six of
’em, and they made a noble ’pearance,
tew.
Jest as we got on to tho stairs and
Hannibal and me was most to the bot
tom, all of a sudden he claps his
hand to his head and whispers:
“Ruth Ann, I must go back a min
ute ; yoti wait right here. ”
“No, Hannibal,” says I, pullin’ him
along, “you cau’t go back —how it would
look!”
“But I tell ye I must and I will!”
says he, jerkin’ away and turnin’ back.
The percession stood stock still on
the stairs, and fust one, then
t’other whispered down ter know
what was the matter, and the folks
in the parlor began ter peak out
and buz. I concluded as long’s I
couldn’t be married without Hannibal,
I might as well go and look after him.
Thinks I ter myself, “Who knows but
he means ter put an eend to his raiser’-
ble odd existence!” So when he rushe.l
up the stairs and pitched head fust into
his room, I wa’ n’t fur behind. And
what did I see that great silly dew but
make a dive fer the lookin’-glass and go
through with the motion* of bruthin' hi*
hair, deliberate and arnest, as if—wall,
ns if he’d had some hair! For lie’s most
as bald as a l>ed-post, and what hair he’s
got lays down of its own accord as slick
as grease, all times! I tea* mad. j
snatched the brush away and grabbed
his arm.
“Hannibal Hawkins!” says I, firm
and determined, I tell ye; “Hannibal
Hawkins! you oorne down-stairs with
me this instant; I’ve had enough o’ your
odditv fer one day! I’ve bore’ all I can
or will, and when we’re married I’ll take
some o’ this nonsense out of ye, or I’ll
—ril tee!” says I.
He glared at me as if ho
neverVl seen me before he was
so ’stonished, hut I hauled him
back down stairs, and we all went into
the parlor at last and took our place in
front of the minister. But it did seem
as if delays end hitches was to be the
order of the day, for jest as we got all
ready ter begin, the minister was called
to the door on important business that
kep’ him ten minutes or so, and there
we stood in the middle o’ the floor look
in’ at one ’nother and feelin’ awk'ard
enough.
Among the folks I invited to the wed
din’ was old Aunt Betsey Griffin, deaf
MX. VERNON, MONTGOMERY CO., GA„ WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1887.
as a post, and sottin’ beside on her was
old Mis' Potter, and Mis’ Potter’d lost
her mind, in a measure, as it were. I
knew it would please ’em both tor come,
so I invited 'em. Well, while wo was
w aitin' for tho minister and the room
was still as the grave, all of a sudden
Mis’ rotter turned to Aunt Betsey and
screamed in her ear loud enough ter
wake the dead:
‘‘Who did you say our Ruth Ann is
goin’ to marry ?” ’ And Aunt Betsey
screamed back jest as loud, though Mis’
Potter ain't deaf a mite:
“J lr. Hannibal Ilawkins /”
51 is’ Potter nods her head contented,
ttnd 6ots and rocks for about a minute;
then she leans over and screams again:
“What did you say his name was?”
Aunt Betsey tells’ her, and she nods
and rocks as before, but her poor old
head can’t hold lmt one idee at once, so
she hollers a third time, and says she:
“What did you say her name was?”
and Aunt Betsey answers patient and
loud:
“Ruth Ann Robbins 1”
Everybody was laughin’ by this
time, and I don’t know how
long them poor creatur’s would
'a kep’ our names goin’ bnck’awls and
for’ards if tho minister hadn’t come in
jest then and put an eend to it.
The ceremony perceeded along smooth
anti proper till Hannibal undertook ter
find the ring to put on my finger. Then
there was trouble. Ho fumbled fust in
one pocket, then another, took out a
cigar, a little box o’ matches, a tooth
pick, a penknife, a horse-ches'nut that
lie alwers carries for rheumatiz, and sev
eral other things—took ’em out one to a
time, looked at ’em thoughtful and in
quirin’ and put ’em back agin. Finally,
he dove into some place and took out a
little wad o' paper, and all our sperits
revived. That looked more like, but
when he ondid it., out rolled a dozen or
more sugar-coated pills on to the floor.
He let ’em 1011, and tried agin. This
time he iislied out a small card that
’peared ter have some writin’ on it. (I
found out afterwards that he’d writ
down on that, card where he put the
ring, for fear he’d forgit, jest ns he had.)
When he’d read the card what did he
dew but stoop over deliberate and pull
off one o’ ’em dretful boots and shake
the ring out o’the toe on’t! Then he
put his boot back on, and straightened
himself up as carm as if it, was custom
ary and common for bridegrooms to
carry the ring in the toe o’ their boots,
and, tailin’ my hand, slipped tho ring
on to my finger as graceful as you
please.
Wall, I was thankful when it
was till over you’d better bo
lieve! It hadn't seemed a mite as
l expected. I supposed that the
thought of the great responsibility! was
assumin’, and one thing a’ nother,would
lift my soul and make me feel dretful
solium and pious, but I declare to man,
I didn’t think o’nothin’ from beginnin’
to end, but jest Hannibal's odd boots
and odd actions ! Bo little does it take
to keep a woman’s mind from soarin’.
After the ceremony wo hail cake and
coffy passed round, and then as the bells
was a ringin’ we perceeded to the
church. It wa’n’t but a few steps, jest
acros’t the common.
And we walked up the broad aisle ter
gether, Hannibal and me. I a loanin’ on
his arm, lookin’ my best,and he liisn.with
everybody’s eyes upon ns 1 I tried not to
feel proud, but it was a happy moment
for me, I tell ye. And when we set
down in the old pew where I’d set ever
sence I was a baby, mother on one side,
Hannibal on t’other and me in the mid
dle, it seemed awful pleasant, somehow;
seemed as if I never loved the old church
so well. Not that there’s anything nice
or harnsorne 'boat our meetin’-honse in
Craney Holler; it’s almost a barn com
pared ter city churches, but it had one
recommend. It was surrounded by
natur - , whose God we hail come to
adore. The great winders was wide
open and I could look out on to the
common, all green and wavy with ma
ples, then away off acrost the inedders,
and up, up to the woody hilltops that
touched the blue canopy o’ heaven.
Oh, how can anyody that lives in tho
country ever lack for religious privileges?
God is so nigh everywhercs in natur’,
and he speaks through her t o plain anil
so direek 1 Why, it I could git the time,
if 1 hadn’t so mucli housework ter dew
and one thing a’nother, I’d make a prac
tice o'goin’out every day as reg’hr as
I say my prayers, to some beautiful,
solium spot, a’ purpose to commune
with my Maker through natur’. In
no other way can we git so near to
God.
As I said, it seemed uncommon pleas
ant to me in meetin’, that Sunday mom
in’. The horses stompin' in the sheds
didn’t seem ter disturb me as usual, and
the chirpin’ of the birds, and thedronin’
of the crickets through the drowzy air
sounded awful nice and southin’. In
side, the house was full of good, old
fashioned smells. Patigony mint and
boy's love and tanzy and eamrnomile;
for all the ohl ladies, and a good many
of the young folks, had a bunch of one
or the other, and perhaps a sprig o’
green caraway seed ter munch away on,
in case they’s inclined to he sleepy.
I looked down to where dear old
Squire Brown set in his pew in front o’
the pulpit—asleep and noddin’ so quick
he was—anil J noticed that one hand
wisely supported his head, in order ter
keep on his red wig o’ hair. But he
wa’ n’t alwers so careful, for I remem
bered how nigh he often come ter losin’
on’t, and how one Bun day it did actew
ally slip clear off ’n his bald pate, and
how he jumped and clapped his hand to
his head, and s’l tho young folks
laughed, and some o' the old ones. Even
Parson Lamsori jest barely saved him
self by a timely sneeze !
Strange that all this should come
back to me so, on my weddin’ momin',
but it did, and a gm*l deal more, and I
had a hard tussle bringin’ myself into a
proper frame o’ mind to ’tend the ser
vice.
Mother alwers hud a him-book to her-
“SUB DEO FACIO FORTITER.”
self, on account o' soein’ better, ye
know, so Hannibal and me wo looked on
torgether, and 1 had the proud pleasure
o’ hearing him sing for the fust time.
He’s got a most powerful voice, and his
expression does beat all ! Everybody
was looking at him. Why ho acted it
all out so, as you might say 1 When he
struck a high note he riz up to his full
statur’, balanced himself kinder teenter
in’ on his toes, stretched up his neck,
rolled his eyes 'way inter the buck part
of his head, and seeh a tone us he fetch
ed—high—oh, terrible high ! and on the
con’try, when lie sung a I<> v note, he
jest scrunched nil down inter his stum
much and ehist, and somethin’ rumbled
wav down in his insides, low—-oh, ter
rible low and solium 1 I think liis “law
A” was the very lowest one I ever hocr
eil! His Bingin’ was sartinly imposin',
and I know it imposed on everybody
that heerd it. As for me, I felt so ex
cited and lifted up by it, that I kep’
awake all through the sermon, and
didn’t even nod once, and was right, on
hand ter rouse np mother and Hannibal
in season for the iloxology. Then came
the benediction, and wc walked out. ter
gether as we came in, with everybody
lookin’ and admirin’and on vyin'. And 1
tried ter realize that 1 was married, and
that this was my weddin’day, but some
how I couldn’t; it all scorned like a
dream.
CHINA’S GREAT ViJdA. A MYTH.
Surprising Statements Made by a
Rrench Missionary.
| From tho London Times.]
Abbe Larrieu, formerly a misionary
in China, has published a pamphlet
(Paris, Leroux) on the Great Wall of
China, to demonstrate that this struc
ture does not exist and has never ex
isted. The popular belief is that this
wall stretches for about 800 leagues
across China, from the sea to the prov
ince of Kan-Su, that it is wholly con
structed of cut stone, and 30 cubits high
by 1 2 broad. It is believed to run
straight on regardless of obstacles, go
ing down valleys and up mountains,
without a break, except such as time
has made, along its whole course. This
notion originated with a Jesuit named
Martini, who visited China about 50,10
and his description was followed by
subsequent writers. 51. Larrieu has
lived for several years under what
would have been the shadow of tho
Great Wall had there been one; he has
studied the writings of recent writers —
especially Abbe Hue —who have crossed
the line of the alleged wall in various
places; he has likewise studied the Chi
nese history of the subject., and his con
clusions are ns follows: (1) The term
“Great Wall” is at the bottom of all the
misunderstanding, and it conies from
tho Chinese expression, “the wall of the
ten thousand 1 i ;’’ (2) as described by
Martini and other writers who have cop
ied him, this wall does not and never
did exist; (It) a Chinese Emperor un
doubtedly did conceive the idea of a
great wall from tho Gulf of Lino-Ising
on the east to Kan-Su on the west, anil
this, though never realized, had a be
ginning; (4) till along the proposed line
of the wall square towers of earth, or of
earth faced witli brick, were constructed
at considerable distances from each
other, but these were never joined to
gether by any wall as was originally in
tended. In some of the defiles along
tlie route there are walls, but these were
intended to close these particular pas
sages, or they are merely the walls of
villages, and are not parts of a larger
scheme. Hence the only part of the
scheme of the Great Wall carried out
was the construction of these scattered
towers; the rest never went beyond the
brain that conceived it; it was never
more than a fnney, and it is now a
myth. This huge Chinese wall, says
Aiibe Berrien, is a huge Chinese lie,
and as for the million soldiers which
were said to guard it night and day,
they are myths likewise. The alleged
Great Wall is a favorite excursion for
Europeans visiting Pekin, and such a
question as whether it exists at all or
not should be an easy one to settle
definitely.
Plate Glass Insurance.
“Our business is not so risky as fire
Insurance,” said a member of a New
York company that insures plate glass,
“because we can better protect ourselvi «i
against over-valuation, and our losses
are lessened by salvage. Plate glass
windows, as a general thing, meet with
damages from three different causes.
Fire destroys the most, many are broken
by accident or through malice, while a
few are blown in by wind f forms. His
very seldom that a window is so badly
shattered that we can’t save some por
tion of it, and as we make it a rule to
replace all panes that are broken, in
stead of paying out the value in cash,
you can readily see that our losses are
not so heavy, unless a very large pane
gets shivered into atoms. We buy the
glass at a good discount and have our
men to put it in. All the glass you see
in the outside office is salvage, and it is
only in exceptional eases that we arc
unable to replace a pane from our stock
on hand. Even the scraps are of value.
They are jmt to many uses, especially
for shelves in front of flu- cashier s win
dows in banks and other offices.
“Plate glass is one of the most pecu
liar things in the world. At times it
will stand any amount of hard usage,
and then again the least tiling will
break it. 1 could tell you many queer
stories in this relation. I have dropped
a heavy hammer on a piece without in
juring it. and whan I have tried to show
a friend how hard a How it would stand,
I have had it grind into powder.”
The assessments of the Kansas State Board
ol Kqualization show an increase in property
1 1, luation in that State the past year ot •
A HELL PUNCH.
IVaeon Sliarpley’s Lawn Mower, and
the Way it was Used.
[From the Boston Taanscript.]
“I tell you what,” said a suburban
friend of the listener, as the street ear
conductor came around bearing a par
ticularly big and imposing Ih>ll punch,
“there is a deacon in our church that
ought to bo made to carry one of those
things when he makes his collections, if
ever anybody ought to lie made to wear
one.”
“Why ? What has the deacon done?”
“I’ll tell you tho whole story, anil
when I’ve done I want to know whether
if it had happened to you, it wouldn't
have destroyed your confidence in some
body. You see, I live next door to
Deacon Blmpley, and my yard is sepa
rated from his just by u light picket
fence. I was whacking away at the grass
on my little lawn the other night with a
grass hook; I was just finishing tho job,
and wondering whether I should ever bo
rich enough to swell out with a lawn
mower, when the deacon came out and
leaned over the fence. ‘See hero,’ said
he, ‘you’re getting quite a lawn here,
and so am I. We don’teither of usliavo
quite enough business for a lawn mower,
but together we might have. Bay we go
snuoks on one?’ I told him that I
thought it was a good idea, and would
go in with him on a machine. Ho said
ho would manage the purchase, anil
would tell me how much half tho cost
was. Bo I let him go on and buy the
lawn mower, and he brought a receipt
oil bill for 512.50 in his own name. I
gave him the $6.25, and left the machine
and the receipt in his hands.
“About two weeks after that —I’d seen
the deacon shoving the lawn mower
around in his yard in great style in tho
meantime—l thought my grass had got
tqi enough to warrant cutting, uiul went
over to the deacon’s to got the machine.
Tho deacon was out, they said, but the
lawn mower was down at Mr. Smith’s.
I thought it was a little queer that the
deacon had lent our machine, lmt I went
down to 51r. Smith’s and got it. I
thought they looked a little cross when
I took it, but I took it just the same and
mowed my lawn. Next night tho dea
con came and got it again and mowed
away a while in his hack yard. A few
days after that f thought it, was about
time to mow once more, and went over
to the deacon’s after the machine. No
machine anywhere around. 1 asked id
the back door—
“ ‘Where’s tho lawn mower?
“‘Mr. Smith came and got it a little
while ago,’ said the deacon’s daughter.
“Mr. Smith! What business had he
with our machine? I didn't ask, but I
trotted down to Smith’s. I found Smith
very complacently oiling the lawn
mower, and apparently getting it ready
for action.
“ ‘Well,’ said I,‘l came overaftor that
lawn mower; but as you seem to be get
ting ready to use it, I suppose I can
wait. ’
“ ‘Hum,’ said ho, ‘I guess tho deacon
anil I keep it, pretty busy.’
“ ‘Bo it seems,'said I, kind of sarcasti
cally.
“‘Well, wo have got our money’s
worth out, of it,, you know,’ says he.
“That struck me as a mighty queer
remark, and I couldn’t help saying, ‘I
should think you’d want to get ono
yourself.’
“ ‘ Well,’says ho looking up a little
surprised, ‘f own half of this one.’
“‘You—you own half of this?’ says I,
astonished.
“‘Why, certainly,' said he; ‘Deacon
Bharpley and 1 bought this lawn mower
together.’
“I tell yon that took mo completely
down. The deacon had completely
played us off, one against the other, and
lias got me to pay for ono half the
machine, and Smith the other, calculat
ing to get the use of it to mow all his
own grass for nothing. If he had been
ns cautious as lie was sharp, and kept
the machine in his own barn, or else in
stead on going after ithimself, I suppose
lie might have kept agoing that way.
But since we’ve found it out, Smith and
1 get along first rate, but the deacon
has to hire an Irishman to mow his
grass willi ft scythe.
“And that’s the reason why I think
the deacon ought to carry a hell punch
when he takes up a collection. Don’t
you think it would Ims a good schema!”
The Motive Force of the World.
From a note published by the Bureau
of Statistics in Berlin the following very
interesting figures are taken.
Four-fifths of the engines now work
ing in the world have lieen constructed
during the last live lus!ra (25 years).
France lias actually 49,51)0 stationary
or locomotive boilers, 7,IKK) locomotives,
anil 1,850 boats’ boilers; Germany has
59,000 boilers, 10,000 locomotives, and
1,700 ships’ I toilers; Austria, 12,000 boil
ers anil 2,800 locomotives.
The force equivalent to the working
steam engines represi nts in the United
States 7,500,000 horse power, in Eng
land, 7,000,000 horse power, in Ger
many, 4,500,1KK), in France, 3,000,000,
in Austria, 1,500,000. In these the mo
tive power of the locomotives is not iti
eliuled, whose number in all the world
amounts to 105,000, and represent a to
tal of 3,000,006 horse power. Adding
this amount to the other figures, wo ob
tain tlie total of 46,000,000 horse power.
A steam horse power is equal to three
actual horses’ power; a living horse is
equal to seven men. The steam engines
to-day represent in the world approxi
mately the work of a thousand millions
of men, or more than double the work
big population of the earth, whose total
population amounts to 1,455,923,000 in
habitants. Steam, therefore, has trebled
man’s working power, enabling him to
economize his physical strength while
attending to his intellectual develop
ment.
VOL. 11. NO. 35.
THE STORY WRITERS.
Astonishing Industry of the Men
Who Grind Out Cheap Serial
Novels.
There tiro writers in this city whose
industry is astonishing and whose pro
ductions are regularly read by hundreds
of thousands of persons, yet whose
identity is unknown, not only to their
readers hut oven to the newspaper fra
terntiy. They are the writers who grind
out serials for the sensational weeklies
and write matter for the 5 anil 10 cent
libraries. The total number of such
writers in this country probably does not
exceed 200. About 150 of them are cen
tred in New York. Their work is be
neath notice from a literary standpoint,
but in bulk it is something tremendous.
“I made $3,000 with my pen ftst
year,” said one of them recently. "By
a few figures I can givo you some idea
of the immense quantity of rot I hail to
turn out. I get, on an average, only
$l5O for each serial. The serials con
tain twelve installments of 6,000 words
each, or 00,000 in all Consequently, I
ground out twenty serials laet year, or
( no less than ) *'oo,ooo words.
"Now, by comparison with some of
the legitimate story writers, you will see
how infinitely greater ray work, manual
at least —I claim nothing more: no lit
erary excellence—is than theirs. Take
Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, who died last
year, for example. She was one of the
most prolific writers of fiction we have
had. It was said that in tin? twenty
years of her active literary life she pro
duced thirty novels. They generally
contained about 250 pages with perhaps
■IOO words to the page. If she protluosd
thirty such novels in twenty years,
: therefore she must have written about
3,000,000 words all told. That is an
average of 150,(500 a year, or omy about
one-tenth what I evolve every year. In
two years I could grind out, w ithin a few
hundred thousand words, as much ao-
I tual stuff as she did in her whole life.
Mrs. Stephens, of course, had inuoh
other work to ilo, being editor of a mag
azine for many years; hut so have!,
(or, besides (tie serials, I regularly pro
duce sketches, short stories, and special
articles for various publications, lieside
editing a trade weekly. Ami lam by
no means the most prolific of the slush
, serial writers.
“SylvnnuH Col>l>, Jr,, who died recent
ly, is said to have made $125,000 from
his stories. ()f course his grade of work
was a little higher than ours, hut it was
produced on much the same principle.
To make his fortune lie probably wrote
at least 50,000,000 words. Ned Buntine,
! v>ho died a year or two ago, was un
doubtedly the most remarkable sensa
tional writer this country has eyer seen.
He is credited with having made $200,-
000 with his pen. To do so ho must
have ground out ho less than 100,000,-
000 words of copy."—A' - . Y. Evening thin.
Two of a Senator’s Little Jokes.
E. \V. Durant, Stillwater's Senator and
joker has been on a summer trip to the
seashore with his wife, ami if the stories
that come floating in from Dong Branch
are all true he had a good time. One
day at table a big inosquitoof the Jersey
breed lighted on the Senator’s hand.
With an expression of horror and amaze
ment on his countenance the Senator
beckoned to a waiter and inquired:
“What is this animal?"
"What is it ? Why, its a skeeter.
Didn’t you ever see a skeeter ?” replied
the waiter.
"Kill it!" commanded Durant.
The waiter obeyed.
“Remove the corpse."
The waiter gave the Senator’s hand a
brush with a napkin.
"Well, I never saw anything like that
before!” solemnly remarked the gwntle
man who had been fighting mosquitos at
Stillwater all his life.
On another occasion at table Mr. Du
rant observed sitting near him quite an
old gentleman accompanied by a pretty
young lady, who lie correctly surmised
was the old gentleman's bride. They
were on their wedding trip. The Sen
ator gave his wife the wink and began
to guy tho ill-assorted pair.
"Are yon enjoying your wedding trip
with rne,” he remarked to Mrs. Durant,
"as well as you did the one you took
with your first husband?"
fie'heard the aid gentleman mutter
between his teeth, "That's a devil of a
question to ask a woman in this place.”
The Stillwater Senator gained fresji
inspiration from this, and the way he
played the game of second husband on a
wedding trip was a suprise to the whole
table. The old man and his darling,
however, failed to relish it, and blushed
with an intensity that caused the ice
cream to melt. — St, Paul Pioneer.
The Panama Canal.
the project of damming up the Cha*
gris with 30,000,000 cubic metres of
earthwork, accompanied by a culvert
large enough to admit the issue of a
stream gauging 4(to cubic metres per
second, and needing for its course a
cutting nearly as wide and deep as that
required for navigation, depends, among
other things, for its accomplishment on
the forbearance of earthquakes. One
tremor of the ground would bring down
the whole mighty structure. Al
together M. DeLesseps anil his share
, holders are in a terribly awkward plight.
They cannot very well abandon works
which have cost over fifty millions of
money, and yet they cannot with pru
dence go forward. They have two alter
natives, and only two, before them. One
of them is to sell the whole thing for,
say, twenty millions to the Americans —
who are quite willing to buy the con
cern—and the other is to suspend M.
!Do Denseps, and to put in somebody
who will personally superintend the
works.- -Britieh Trade Journal,