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A PHILADELPHIA HEROINE.
How Lydia Dnrrah Saved WnnMncton’s
Array from Surprise at White illnrsb.
{From therhiladelpMa Quarterly of 1827.]
When the British army held posses
Sioli of Philadelphia General Howes
headquarters were in second street, the
fourth door below Spruce, in a house
which was before occupied by General
■Cadwallader. Directly Durrah, opposite re
sided William and Lydia Friends. mem
hers of the Society of A su
jx’rior officer of the British army, be
lieved to be the Adjutant General, fixed
.upon one of their chambers, a back
room, for private comference, and two of
them frequently met there with fire and
candles, in close consultation. About the
-seooiid of I December the Adjutant Gen
wal told Lydia that they would be in
the room at seven o’clock and remain
late, and that they wished the family to
retire early to lied, adding that when
they were going they would call her to
let them -out and extinguish their tire
and candies. She accordingly sent all
the family to bed; but as the officer had
'been so particular took off her her curiosity shoes and was put ex
«ited. She
her ear to the keyhole of the conclave
and overheard an order read for all the
British troops to march out late in the
evening of the fourth and attack Gen
«rst Washington s army, then encamped
at White Marsh. On hearing this she
returned to her chamber and laid down.
Soon after the officers knocked at the
-door, but she arose only at the third
summons, having feigned herself asleep.
Her mind was so much agitated that
fmm this moment she could neither eat
®°r supposing it. to be in her
power to save tlie lives of thousands
of ner countrymen, but not knowing
how she wasi to convey the information
to General Washington, not daring to
confide it to her husband. 1 lie time
:efi, however, was short. She quickly
•determined to make her way as soon ns
possible to the American outposts. She
sasformed her family that as she was in
vrantof flour she would go to I rank fold
im wzene; her Husband insisted that she
should take the mrud servant with her,
bat to his surprise she p >sitively re
fused She got access to General Howe
■and solicited, what he readily granted, a
pass through the Lu is i troops on the
aoes. Leaving her bag at the mill she
hastened toward the American lines and
encountered (in the way an American
lieutenant colonel (Craig) of the ligh
horse, who with some of his men, was
on the lookout for information. He
knew her and mqmred where she was
Xomg. She answered in quest of her
■*'«. an officer in the American army
walk P™??} with her. 10 th He « c tr did so, 1 t0 ordering f g - bt T his
froo f * to keep in sight. To him she dis
closed her secret, after having obtained
from lum a solemn promise never to be
Sray her individuality, as her hie might
oe at stake with the British.
He conducted her to a house near at
&uid directed something for her to eat
with made what of course, had all ^curreffi preparations Washington for baf
ting _ieme(ia« "till t *iSSh i. yc a c
thc.y r< nine quest tb'ono-1, though snlin-'t solic
dare to ask a on Jons
“ General g
ifce Adjutant mo m an] . re;
•quested her to walk up to his oom as
Slowed 6 'him in terror; but wiienhe
. Srof locked the door and begged her with an
majestv to be seated, she was sure
T wlicther
he and* the other officer met she told
him that they all retired at eight o’clock.
He observed-—“I know you were asleep, dooi
for I knocked at your chamber
three times before you heard me; I am
entirety at a loss to imagine who gave
Oeneral Washington information of cm
intended attack unless the wails of the
it house could speak. When we arrived
White Marsh we found all their can
jhoo mounted and the troops prepared to
receive ns, and we have marched back
$ke a parcel r of fools.”
A Little Too Previous.
A musing anecdote of a Western girl’s
effort to fascinate Mr. Arthur is thus re¬
lated by the Cincinnati Enquirer :
•“Last winter there was a very pretty
girl here from the principal and city, of a
great Western State, she was pre¬
vented to the President. Of course he
was polite, as he always is, and she im¬
mediately thought she ‘had’ him. He::
knowledge of the world was extremely
jnperficial, and her mother hail very
little sense or knowledge of the usages
of the best society. She boasted of hei
daughter’s conquest to her acquaintance,
and finally the story was telegraphed to
m Western paper. A friend of the Presi¬
dent saw the dispatch and showed it to
lnm. That evening there was something
going on at the White House. Our
flamboyant child of the Occident was
there, clothed iu her radiant loveliness,
mad a perfect fitting gown from Pingat’s,
and she was very pretty. friends She had inti¬
mated to about twenty that she
meant to parade lier born captive. So, with
an air of nssurance of her coarse
-vanity, she endeavored to monopolive
him. But, to her into utter circle amazement, she
con Id not get the of intimes
at all. He barely looked at her, did not
ask her to promenade, and when supper
came took down a Virginia cousin of his
State wife, who was neither young nor
pretty, and had never heard of Pingat.
The girl and went home and crying Mr. with mortifi
cation rage, Arthur was
Sever polite to her again.”
A Mountain.
A Western man has a project for pro¬
viding N. Y. city with a highly desirable
sommer resort. Aware that the nearest
mountain is too far away to be reached
by daily trips, and that thousands of
business men cannot be absent except at
flight, he proposes to build an artificial
eminence. On a site yet to be chosen,
feat probably will on build the seashore of Long
Island, he a mountain 700 feet
In height, with an elevator running up
ta a big hotel. All that he lacks is
money, of which he guesses he will re
_auire $5,000,000.
THE WIDOW’S RIGHTS.
4 Romantic Story ot Politics. Love. Mar¬
riage. Divorce, and a Lawsuit,
j ndge McCollum, sitting for Judge
gee j y m tlle District Court of Wayne
CO ) p a f has given an opinion in a case
- vv Di c j l fl as created more than usual in-
1( , res j- { Q t,fl 0 community owing to the
peculiar and romantic circumstances
w liich preceded it and led to its presence
j u q M; courts. It is a story in which
politics, disappointment, love, marriage,
and d j vorce are all strangely mingled,
Honesdale was made the countv seat ol
vVayne county in 1843, at which time a
f raine Court-house was erected. This
building was fully adequate to the needs
0 j- q u , county at the time, but as popu
j aboI) alld business increased the lawyers
and judges claimed that there was need
of a j arger aud jitter one. Every
rnovernent on the part of the authorities
p, bave a new Court-house erected was
0 pp Osed by the peopleatlarge, the popu
j adon 0 f tlie county being chiefly com
posed of farmers. Finally a Grand Jury
was drawn which recommended the
] )n j]ding of a new Court-house, and in
jgyg the work was commenced by order
0 j ^j lc court. The building was to cost
^jgo.OOO. The movement met with bit
{ er opposition throughout the county, advan
aLU j am bitious politicians took
^ G f the feeling to foster and increase
j) je opposition. Party lines were lost
gi ht of _ There were no parties except
j. be << Court-house” and “anti-Court
b ouse » parties.
q’fl e leading member of the Board of
Q omdy Commissioners was Thomas
Drown. He was a prosperous and ex
» )er i ence( j builder and contractor, living
near Honesdale. The charge of snper
intending the work on tlie new Court
house fell to him. He set his heart on
conl p] e tion of the building, as he
wag am bitious to leave it as a monument
0 j hfe skill and judgment. Among the
leaders in the au ti. C ourt-house party
was William Hartwell, a wealthy farmer
0 j an int er jor township. He was as de
termined that the building should not
p e erected under the supervision of the
Commissioners then in office as Commis
sioner Lrowu wag that it gll ould be.
^ Injunctions and legal proceedings of
hind were obtained and brought
aga ® i n8 t the Commissioner at the insti
^ tioll o{ the auti-Court-house leaders,
the work wa8 greatly ]iamp ered and
delayed- Qll the local election of 1877
everything f \ depended. Offices were to
fee fl led w ich ^ if the anti-Court-house
^ t was 8ucc sfu ], ’ would compel J the
on the Com . td 10 „ se to ce ’ but
jf the & itions w . re fi i led l)y tl)e c andi .
(latoa the othei . party , the completion
Of the regim0 building /which would be assured under
^ “ b * the work had been
comm n ced. The ai was a bit _
to one ’ alld both Brown and Hartwell
d fr e] f of the ir time and means to
st Siti-Court-house thel their respective followings,
The ticket was elected
b * overwhelming flowed majority. "quickly
The result CommiBSionerlS' wa8 \vu,^who by
death of 0
ld8 4 fo n d ^hopes!^ ‘n ' Wilham Hartwelf was
elected to f his p i acc at the next elec¬
t ion. It was supposed that Thomas
w?r 11 'T iJe i
and there were other claims against ^ the
estate> Brown - 8 son had bee derk to
the Board of Commissioners under the
mftnageme nt, but he was turned out
wheu tll e Hartwell board came into
I 30wer - Tha ^editors of the estate be
cftme fussing and the Brown homestead
wa 8 advertised for sale by the sheriff
1
before him, and appealed to him to sat
isfy the claims against his late father’s
Property take a mortgage on the Home
stead and give them an opportunity to
8ave \ Hartwell s wife had died a few
days after he was elected Commissioner.
He n « v « r f en tho wldo T of h ls Iate
contestant but consenting f to , help , the
® state “ lts ? eeds > he ^lled on Mrs
Brown to perfect arrangements to that
f 1 “ d - H f ^ as 80 wel P leas f d w J th th «
^ accepted that .. ^ proposed lnm and they marriage were married to . her
a f f w days later. His wedding present
to her was the old homestead, free and
clear of debt. This was in May, 1879.
The married life of Mr. and Mrs. Hart¬
well, however, was not a happy one.
They lived together until May, 1881,
when Hartwell left his wife and went to
live with his married daughter, an only
child. In the following September Mrs.
Hartwell commence:! proceedings against
her husband for divorce aud alimony.
Soon afterward Mr. Hartwell died, leav¬
ing as Executor of his large estate his
son-in-law, J. L. Burcher. It was then
found that after leaving his wife, Hart¬
well had assigned and disposed of nearly
all of his personal estate to liis son-in
law and daughter.
Mrs. Hartwell, claiming that this was
done to defraud her of her rights in her
hnsband’s estate, brought suit to com¬
pel the Executor to make au inventory
of all such property so disposed of, he
holding that it was no part of the estate,
but his property by virtue of gift during
Hartwell’s life-time. The court holds
that the evidence is clear that the as¬
signments and gifts were made with the
intention to jeopardize the rights of the
widow, and decides that the inventory
shall be made and that the Executor
shall give bonds to the amount of $40.
000 for the faithful performance of ids
duties in the premises.
Free Railroad.
There is a free railroad in Oakland,
Cal. That city is across the bay from
San Francisco, with a population of
45,000. The Central Pacific Railroad
Company it, "the needed principal a way directly through
and street afforded
the best route; but the people were
reluctant to have the thoroughfare
sjxiiled, and only consented with the
proviso that no fares should be collected
for rides within the corporate limits.
There are several stations on this pecu¬
liar section of the line, and the residents
use the trains freely.
“Yes,” said the daughter of a ward
politician, “Pa is a manufacturer.” “A
manufacturer 1” exclaimed a gentleman
who knew pa. “Yes,” replied tlie young
lady. “He’s a manufacturer of public
sentiment, I believe.” “Ohl”
ACROSS THE CONTINENT.
How the Tourists Appear to the Denizens
ol Cheyenne.
[From the Cheyenne (Wyoming) Leader.]
They come in crowds at this season.
Sometimes they are members of the
peaceful order of the Young Men’s Hu¬
manity Union and their families; some¬
times members of the semi-military or¬
ganization, the Bayonet and Sword So¬
ciety, and their families; sometimes they
are Raymond excursionists, but by the
time they reach Cheyenne they have the
travel-worn appearance common to tour¬
ists. Local Western travelers get off
the train and tramp it up town; commer¬
cial travelers take the ’bus with the
cattle men from Texas, and are driveD
to the hotels, but the tourists pour out
of the sleeping cars and make direct for
the railroad dining'-room. The their men
wear black caps, pulled down on
heads till the bands touch their shirt
collars, and dusters so long as to almost
sweep tlie ground, and which are creased
and limp as if they had been used to
sweep the car floor. One man tourist
always looks like every other man tour¬
ist. His costume is a disguise, living just as
his manners, talk, and way of on
a tour give him an identity different
from that which belongs to him at home.
But if the men are commonplace and
uninteresting, it must be said of women
tourists that they look shapeless dowdyish. “walking” They
wear on their heads
hats of a style fashionable some years
ago, adorned with dull-hued artificial
flowers, which have been mashed flat
while the wearers have been lolling
against the backs of car-seats or on con¬
venient shoulders. The woman tourist
who picks her way in slippers from the
car to the dining hall, or who clumps
along in her husband’s rubbers, also
wears a duster. It is “mussed” into a
thousand lumps aud folds, and has
streaks of dust and cinders on it running
in every direction. There are two char
acteristics, aside from slovenliness, which
mark the woman tourist. The first is
that her face is utterly devoid of com¬
plexion, and the second that instead of
speaking she always squeaks.
When a mob of tourists have assault¬
ed the dining-room they take possession
of it. There is no one iu the dining¬
room to be considered, excepting those
of their party. ADd how well they all
know each other. Such familiarity as
prevails among them, one would think
could only be the result of living for
years as members of the same house¬
hold. But they have been acquainted,
in most cases, no longer than it takes an
express train to ran to Cheyenne from
the wilds of Jersey or Egyptian Illinois.
In the dining-room, they clatter the
dishes, “hisst” at the waitress, rattle
knives and forks, scrape chairs noisily
on the floor, talk from one table to an¬
other a dozen at a time, and make a bed¬
lam of it beautifully. The meal over,
they walk up and down the station plat¬
form in couples or fours; or, selecting a
“native,” a knot of them will set to work
pumping him. Then their wit and
knowledge crop out. They know and they
are west of the Missouri River that
they have passed many shanty towns
along the Union Pacific. Therefore they
are on the frontier—in the western wilds
—and they proceed civilization to. show behind that them. they
have left their
It was too thin to wear this journey
through. When they talk with one of
the benighted here, whose experience
away from home has not perchance been
l imited to a single trip, they snigger and
giggle, and ask whether this town’s
name is really Siam, or Shanghai, or Shy
Ann ? back and whether of the Phoenix there, is Block, really any the
town
Inter-Ocean Hotel, and the Opera-house?
They have heard all about the cattle
business. Where do the ranches begin?
Where do the cow-boys keep themselves?
Where are all the Indians? Are there
buffaloes near town ? What State is
Cheyenne in ? Is there such a Territory
as Wyoming ? Do the people here ever
go East? What is the population?
Were there never any trees here ? Is it
always as hot, or as cold, or as wet, or
as dry as to-day ? But the bell rings,
there is a scramble for the car steps, the
tourists disappear into the doorways of
the sleeping cars, note-books are soon in
hand, and many interesting data con¬
cerning prairie dogs, antelope, owls, rat¬
tlesnakes, the profits of stock-raising,
and the “high altitude” of the region is
entered with the purpose when the of instructing journey
and astonishing is
over.
A Soldier’s Mistake.
An interview of General Crook on In¬
dian questions would likely result in as
much real information as the soldier
got, who, when on a campaign in Ari¬
zona, one evening after camp had been
made, and being detailed to bring in
wood, found the General sitting on a log
some distance from camp. The soldier
approached, and thinking the General
was a trooper or some camp follower (he
dresses very plainly and seldom wears a
uniform), eat down beside him and com¬
menced as follows:
“I am awful tired and worn out with
our fearful long march to-day; ain’t
yon?”
“Yes; bnt I am resting now.”
“If we could only kill some Indians
once in a while it would be some satis¬
faction, but this marching up hill and
down, over burning sands and in the
cold of the mountains, -wearing men out
for nothing—I don’t believe we will ever
see an Indian; do you?”
‘ ‘It looks that way. Still, we may find
them.”
“I don’t go much on Crook. He’s got
a great reputation for fighting Indians,
but I think it’s all on paper—newspaper
talk—don’t you ?”
“I shouldn’t wonder.”
Here an officer approached, saluted,
and prefacing “General,” his verbal message soldier" by call¬
ing Crook the real¬
ized his predicament, dropped his few
sticks of wood and broke for camp,
worse frightened than if lie had been
suddenly surrounded by yelling Apaches.
Dr. H. F. Hamilton says that a\
least once a day girls should have their
halters taken off. the bars let down, and
be turned loose like young colts. “Cal
isthenies may be very genteel, and romp
ing very ungenteel, but one is the shad
ow, exercise,” the other the substance, of healthful * J
COULDN’T SLAP HIM.
A Little Story Developed in a Railroad
Car.
[From the Arkansaw Traveler.]
On a railway train, just behind a
plainly dressed, motherly looking boy,
woman, accompanied by a noisy
sat two fashionably dressed ladies. The
boy was given to asking all kinds of
foolish questions, and occasionally be
would whine like a cub bear and twist
himself around and fret.
“If I had hold of him for one minute
I’d blister him till he couldn’t stand
up,” said one of the ladies.
“Here, then,” replied the motherly him.
old lady, “you may take hoi i of
If you want to slap him, slap him. I
haven’t the heart to do it.”
“Excuse me,” faltered the annoyed
lady. “I did not think you could hear
my remark. ”
“Oh, no harm done, for I know that
he is enough to annoy anyone, and it
may seem strange to you that I do not
slap him, but I can’t. Once I had a
little boy that I slapped. Every time
he would ask foolish questions determineS or whine,
I’d slap him. I was to bring
him up rightly, so that he idol would of please life
everybody. He was the my
and I did so much want to see him re¬
spected. Everybody said that I was a
model mother and that my son would
be a great man, and I was so flattered
by these remarks that I was even more
strict than ever with him. One night
just after I put him to bed, company
came and while we were talking, the
little fellow awoke and began to cry. 1
told him to hush, and when I found that
he did not intend to obey me, I went what to
the bed and spanked him. ‘That’s
I call discipline,’ one of the company
remarked, ‘and I assure you that in after
years you will not regret the strict meas¬
ures which you have adopted.’
“The noxt morning my little boy was
too sick to get up, and all day he lay in
bed. At night I sent for a physician,
but before morning he was dead. I
don’t think that there was a more mis¬
erable woman in the world. I took his
little boots—boots which a few days be¬
fore I had whipped him for getting
muddy, and I put them on in my the bureau.
I could not bear to live same
house where both my husband and little
boy had died, and I moved away. One
evening while walking along a lonely
street, I saw a little boy—a very small
boy—standing among some tall weeds.
I asked him where he lived and he
plucked a blossom and held it out to me.
I asked him where was his father and
mother, and with curious intelligence he
replied that some big men took them
away in boxes. I knew then that he
was a waif, and took him home with me.
In the night he cried, and I got up and
sat by the fire with him aud rocked
him. He was very delicate, but he was
a light that shone on my withering soul.
This is the child, and lie’s wearing the
little boots that I put on the* bureau,
You may slap him, but I can’t.”
What Barbers Earn.
A barber in a prominent hotel said to
a reporter who had noticed the frequent
“tips" that he received: “We don’t
make as much as you think we do. The
p ay ffi the best hotels is $2 a day, and
we ge { from $1 to $1.50 extra in fees,
Sunday work earns us our days off.
How many customers a day? taken About
thirty, averaging up the time to
cu f flair, shampoo, etc. No, we have no
brotherhood or association. We had
orie a f ew years ago, but it came to an
endi p ay ug ever to strike ? Hardly,
Hundreds of men would be ready to fill
my place within a day. Sometimes we’re
called to private residences. Then we
ge f qq cents a shave, at times $1. We
fl a ve to furnish our own tools—razors,
scissors, etc.—and that costs about $5 a
month, outside of the $50 capital neces¬
sary to start us. Of course every good
barber has his regular customers, but it
wouldn’t pay to start a shop of your
own, as few of these customers would
follow you; they get used to a place,
you see, and dislike to change. Why is
a shampoo charged 40 cents when a
‘hair-cut’ is also 40 cents? Well, we
don’t make much on the ‘hair-cut,,’ and
bo we even it up on the shampoo.”
American Drinks in Russia.
A letter from Moscow says: “Ameri¬
can drinks” are the latest novelty
brought from the country of the Yankees
to that of the Czar. Now you hear men
in all the hotels and large vodka shops
here asking for American drinks, and
many a joke is cracked on such occa¬
sions. I heard a gentleman say:
“Iprefer American to Russian.”
“What American to what Russian?”
he was asked by a fellow countryman.
“Spirits, of course.”
“In what sense?”
“In any sense the American drink in¬
spires.”
A tipsy Russian remarked: “I feel I
am getting Americanized.”
American drinks are in good demand
here, and the Treasury reaps a large
profit from them. Yet the word “Amer¬
ican,” being used too often, and particu¬
larly by loose tongues, annoys the auto¬
cratic Government in good earnest. It
is very probable that American drinks,
like Nihilist pamphlets, will soon be put
on the list of forbidden things.
DIDN’T WANT IT STRETCHED.
A day or two since a Norwich man car¬
ried a jug to a cash grocery store to have
it filled with New Orleans molasses. He
was the head of a big family, and had a
large jug, hence he bought at the most
favorable prices. Later in the day when
he called for it, he was surprised to learn
that the price was nearly five dollars.
“How is this,” asked the buyer, “has
molasses gone up ?”
“Oh, no,” replied the groceryman,
“I’m selling at the regular price.”
“Well, how much does that jug hold ?”
inquired the purchaser.
“Six gallons,” responded the seller.
“I have tried time, aud time again,”
said the owner of the jug, “to get five
gallons of molasses into it, and could
never do it. I had as soon pay for six
gallons of molasses as not, but I hate to
have that jug stretched so.”
The groceryman said he would let off
a gallon in the price and call it square,
and m that way the difference was
settled.
STORY OF THE PRODIGAL SON.
A Sermon Prenelied on an Island on the
Georgia Coast.
Betoders and Sisters: De discourse
ment dis mauning is lueinated from de
tex in de book which say: “A suttin
man had two son.” Now" de nyoungest
son was a berry contentionable nyoung
man dat was in no wise respose to do de
will ob ’e father, And dare fore he was
a projigal son, and de last state ob dat
man was wuss dan de fust state !
De Bible say dat dis nyoung man cab
to ’e father and say, ‘ ‘Father eim me
my share ob de substun, and I will teck
it and go away to a fur couutry, and you
shall see my face no mo’. ” Now, I reckon
de ole man war tired bodderin wid dis
projigal, and ’e was willin to let him hoe
’e own row. For we read in de Bible
dat de nyoung man teck his share ob de
substun and gone into a fur country, and
dar he spen’ he substun in riotous extrab
agance, high libin and sin ! An’ after ’e
money all trow away ’e war reduced to a
great necessity. So great war de neces¬
sity ’e war reduced to dat ’e had to hire
heself out to one rich man to mine hog !
Now, de Bible don’t say, but it is sup¬
posed, dat dat was a berry mean white
man, ’cause we read in de book dat de
projigal was fain to full his belly on de
husks wat ’e feed de hog wid. And
when ’e come to heself he say: “Deberry
servant in my father’s house hab bread
fur to eat and I ain’t hab none. I'm
gwine back to de ole man and ax ’im to
teck me as a hired servant. ” And so he
teck de perl ring off he finger and trow
um to de hog. And de hog run at nm,
’cause you read in de book. “If you
cast pearl befo swine he will turn round
and ren you!”
Now, when de nyoung man was yet a
long way off de ole man see um, an’ he
ran out to meet um, and he ketch nm
and trow ’e ban’ roun’ ’e neck and kiss
um, and put anurrer ring on ’e han’ and
gie um one white shirt wid gole stud in
de bossum, and tell de hired servant to
kill de fat calf an’ make a great feast!
An’ ’cordin’ to de way he say so it war
done.
An’ wen de feast was ready he sen’
round to all de rich nabor and invite um
ail to de supper. And dey all wid one
consent begin to make excuse. One man
say he jess buy a yoke ob oxen, and ’e
got to go look after he purchase. grcuu’ Anur¬
rer man s°y ’e taka a piece ob new
and ’e am’t got time. Anurrer man say
’e jess married to a nice nyoung wife an’
—he can’t come !
Well, wen de ole man see how ebery
body discount um ’e git bex, and ’e say
to de hired man: “Go out into de high¬
way and byway, and gadder all ye find;
for de loss is foun\ and de blind kin see,
and de deaf kin hear, and my son dat
was dead am alive again. ” So de hired
man went and he gadder de bliii and de
lame and de halt and de deaf, and all de
po’ people in dat lan’, and he fetch um
and set um down, and dey make a great
feast! An’ arter dey dun eat, de frag¬
ment wat dem gadder up full seben bas¬
ketful amj five small fishes ober.
Just here a member took bis hat,
walked off a few steps, filled a short,
black pipe, stuck it between his teeth,
and walked off. Whereupon the preacher
resumed in an impressive manner: No
“I don’t call no name to-day!
name to-day ! But de word ob God has
struck de heart ob one relentless sinner
iu dis congregation, and ’e gone off to
meditation by heself. Dis, my brudders,
will show you de cower of faith. We
will close de sarbice by singing de him
found on de page ob de book.
“Come, ye sinners, po and needy so’,”
Weak and wounded, sick and
THE CRACKER'S RETORT. ’
During the civil war many were the
jokes and gibes bandied between the
Confederate troopers. A North Caro¬
lina regiment was always saluted with a
round of witticisms by the Georgians,
as “Know’d you was 'round; smelt tur¬
pentine all the mornin’,” or, “We was
all gormed up on account of the tar you
fellows left in your tracks.” It was
rarely that the North Carolinians had a
chance to retaliate. Once, however, a
regiment of these brave fellows thought
that their opportunity had come. As
they were drawn up in line there passed
before them a lone straggler. His sal¬
low face, his paunch, and ungainly
movements proclaimed him to be a
Georgia Cracker. At once he was saluted
with yells of “goober grabbler!” (anglice fellow,
—ground-nut eater). The poor
thus addressed by six hundred men,
seemed surprised for a moment, bnt
overcome though he was by physical
weariness he was sufficient for the emer¬
gency. Straightening himself up, and
looking askance at his revilers, he faced
them, and said, in a squeaky, drawling
voice:
“Gentle-men, I hain’t no goober grate
bier nuther. I am from North Carliny,
the best State in the Confederacy, and
from Rutherford county, the best county
in the State, and I’m from one of the
best families in the State, and they was,
too, the best livers in the State, and I
recollec’ when I was a boy my pappy he
calls me, and sez he, ‘Get up, Sammy,
and go down to the branch and wash
yer face, and come right back and climb
the persimmon-tree and git yer break¬
fast, and then go to school.’ ”
Then that North Carolina regiment
had not another word to say, but let
the Cracker severely alone.— Harper's
“Drawer."
The Victim of an Octopus.
The following account of an attack by
a cuttle-fish on a boy is given by the
Hiogo Hews: that cuttle-fish should
It is not strange
damage vegetables growing in fields by
the seashore, but the surprising news
reaches us that a boy has been killed by
one of these hideous creatures. We
hear that some few days ago a boy about
fourteen years of age was fishing at
Tomiokamura, Amakusa, Hizen, and a
huge cuttle-fish stretched two of its ten¬
tacles out of the water and grasped the
boy’s right arm. The boy shouted for
assistance, as the fish was dragging him
in, and some men who were near released
the lad by cutting the tentacles. When
the boy reached home his arm was cold
and motionless, and, notwithstanding
medical aid was called in, he died five
days afterward.
In England riders on the bicycle and
trycicle are called “bikes” and “trikes.’
THE OLD 8TOBY
d a smile on his face, and in harm!
A knife hung a,’ Msside *** 8 H
A girl it was who opened the door—
Like raven’s wing her hair.
I ve come,” the visitor said <( tn
And as down If you'll she prim sat these the lines editor'Thai’ l ^i ..
on *
A pang his bosom smote. ’
Now, had it been UkebfanpoletSj
And thin.
The journalist . would have clinched hi
And driven him through sfi9t ‘
the wall.
At last a thought-sweet happv thought
C a £ e anCU,g hishead
“Tho’ T’v o
The edrtor s gun didn't kill anv
And the maid husband one
a gained
A. I. ItOBEBTl
The Love of Bears for Mel ons.
The Denver Republican tells thiJ
bear story:—
I once worked on a water melon
tafion where had 100 If nlar,
we acres tit
vines at one time. The curious
about the business was that our hard®
bears-bkek fight wasn’t bears. agm weeds. We’d It Was S 2
all shooting along, got the
melons some of them with 1,1
the old on'em as big as a pumpkin, and
man was ...
rirer cleared ouUo im”t„
‘ ‘Something and has broke down the word
xence battered up about an acre J
vines in the clearin’.”
We’d just cleared about ten acres
woodland the past winter, n
doing and rndoni
were amazingly well ffi that field
So you may know the old man was
when he heard this. Him mu
down to and I Wen
see what was up, and we sawi
a minute that it was bears.
There were tracks, just as they wen
made by men walking on their hands
in the soft earth all over the field, am
the vines was torn up, and ripe and greei
melons mashed to flinders in a way tha
nothing but a bear could do.
old “They’ll be back to-night,” said tk<
man. “You and Josh and Henr
clean out your rifles and be ready fa
There was a full moon that night, ant
I tell you things looked purty. J os l
and Henry and I settin’ behind stamps
with our rifles across our laps, waiting
The fence was still tore down at tin
point nearest the woods, and the moon,
light shining on the dark forest, when
we then expected the bears to come from, vines, anc
on the field of watermelon
whose looked white mighty tendrils purty. glistened like silver]
Now and then we heard a screech owl
yelling down in the woods, but we dicin’
pay no attention to that; and presently]
saw a bear come out and walk slowly
into the field. He was a big fellow, a]
black as coal in the moonlight, and h«
wasn’t along in any slow hurry either. He saun¬
tered as as you please over tej
a big striped Georgia melon, and, settid thai
down on his hams, he just picked
melon up in his two fore paws anc
smashed it between ’em like paper. dripl 11
half a minute his whole head was
ping with juice, and I could hear hia
smacking his lips like a hog.
We let him alone, according to the old
man’s instructions, waiting until then
should be a bear a-piece for us, for th
tracks showed tliat at least six of ’em had
been around the night before.
In a few minutes along came anothe
one, and then there walked in an oldshl
with two little ones at her heels. Wj ni
had three bears now, but nary one of
fired. Watching them bears was thj
biggest picnic ever I saw. Sometime
they’d catch up a melon just as you’
take up a baby, and holding it close t
legs ’em, until travel they’d across the field bigger on their one, hinj
see a
then smash would go the rind, and tt
juice would drip off ’em like they ha
just come out of a hath.
I was watching the old she teachin
her young ones howto break into tl
juicy part, when crack went Josh’s rilli
and the whole gang started on a rui
The vines tripped ’em up so that the
couldn’t go very fast, and we each bagge
one of ’em, mine being one of the your
We watched every night after that fa
the season was over, but they were to
of ware now, and we never shot moi
than one in a night. While wed 1
sitting in one field waiting for then
they’d be rip-snorting away at the tro
on the other side of the plantation. watermeloi
Bears are keener after
than a negro, and I can say no m
than that.
A Palace of Delight.
The eccentric King of Bavaria, *
sleeps all day and keeps awake at mg
who abhors women and is a passiom
lover and is of music, worshiper who believes of art m is demure bmidi
a will stupas I
himself a home which and arte
sa^Hasjsiai comfort, elegance, splendor,
I
at the entrance of Bavarian D* • ,
the resources of art have been
construct this palace of dehg statuo •
noble halls will be nned wutli ■
the and choicest the spacious paintings waffs of deoor modern 2V m
The that wood put carving any other will existiug . be fS bmi^ to l ,
on iastening i
while the very window designed and «
door knobs will be
cuted by first-class artists. . 8
wayward king intends to keep alone
tiful palace villa for Iximself pubte r^ :
is not to be visible from any f
and all save the king and his
will be forbidden entrance to it.
S’inSon this palace are the rums ol an oia^ .
W8S AUhoughconst^
_ an eminence passing travelers where it and m » a S
all splendid' 1 ^ 1
commanding country. a But y a ,
rounding is nothing if not ecc w
of Bavaria he wj J
Were he a per man J J
called a crank, but his kmgV 3
£is gives strange a glamor tagJ^tStic to JustwJ , 4
figure as one of the m T 0 J
arehs of the nineteenth oi w. -|
century.