HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-7-12, Page 7MISCELLANEOUS READING.
GRAVE AS WELL AS OAT.
.fteading For Leisure Momenta for 014
and IrOung" Interesting and Proiltaq
Wel
The Baby Over the Way.
cross in ray neighbor's window,
With its folds of satin and lace,
I see, with its crown of ringlets,
A baby's innooent face.
'The throng in the street look upward,
And every one, grave or gay,
If ae a no. and a smile for the baby,
In the mansion over the way.
Just here in my cottage window,
Hjs chin in Itis dimpled hands,
AM a Pateh On his fatted apron,
The child that I live for stands.
He has kept my heart from breaking
B‘or many a weary day;
And his face Is As pure and handsome,
As the baby's over the way.
Som,etImes, when we sit together,
My grave little man of three,
Sore vexes me with the question,
"Does God M Heaven like me?"
And I say, "Yes, yes, my darling,"
Thought almost answer "Nay";
AS I see the nursery cancllee
In the mansion over the way.
And oft when I draw the stockings
From his Mee tired feet,
And loosen the clumsy garments
From his limbo eo round and sweet,
I grow too lintel: for singing,
stiv heart too heavy to pray,
As 1 thine of the dainty raiment
Of the baby over the way.
*
011, God in Heaven forgive me.
For all I have thought and said)
My envious beget is humbled
My neighbor's baby is: dead
I saw the little white coffin
As they earriea it out today,
And the heart of a mother is breaking
111 the mansien over the way
The light is fair in my. window,
The flowers bloom at my door;
A boy is chasing the sunbeams
That dance on the cottage eon
The roses of health aye crowning
My darling's forehead to -day;
But the baby is gone from the window
of the niaesion over the way!
The Land of "Pretty Soon."
1 know of a land where the streets are paved.
With the things which we -meant to achieve,
It is walled loth the money we meant to have
saved ;
And the pleasures for which we grieve,
The kind words unspoken, the promises broken,
And MARV a coveted boon,
Are stowed away there in that land some-
where—
The land of "Pretty soon."
There aee aneet jewels of possible fame
Lying abotait in the dest,
And many a noble and lofty aim
Covered with mold and rust.
Awl oh! this place. while it seems so near.
Is farther away than the moon.
Though our purpose is fair yet we never get
there—
The land of "Pretty Soon."
The road that leads to that invstie land
Is strewn with pitIful wrecks.
And the ships that have sailed for its shining
strand
Bear skeletons on their decks.
It is farther at noon than it was at dawn,
And farther at niglit than at noon
OIL let as beware of that land down there—
The hind of "Pretty Soon."
Stab Ends of Thought.
Nothing is infinite.
We are shaped by our yesterdays.
Love doesn't wait for an invitation.
Advice should be well shaken before
taken.
Man makes the conscience oftener than
conscience makes the man.
When Cupid meets a woman he smiles
and sits down.
If there had been no God, Christianity
has done for the world what would make
one.
Courtship is to marriage what the silver
sands we stroll on in the sunshine are to
the unknown depths of the ocean.
The perfectly independent man may be
an admirable character, but he doesn.'t
know what it is to have the absolute
devotion of friends.
Aphorisms.
Beware of little expenses; a small leak
will sink a great ship.
We do not count a man's years until he
has nothing else to count.
There is a long and wearisome step be-
tween admiration and imitation.
I3e gentle. The sea is held in check,
not by a wall of brick, but by a beach of
sand.
One may live as a conqueror, a king, or
a mgistrate ; but he must die as a man.
It is by attempting to reach the top at
a single leap that so much misery is pro-
duced in the world.
Man is an animal that cannot long be
left in safety without occupation.; -the
growth of his fallow nature is apt to run
to weeds.
The preacher who leaves it to his hear-
ers to apply what he says to them trans -
fere to them the most essential part of his
own business.
Clip, clip. Patter, patter. The seeond
vehiele was approaching nearer, An-
other ten minutes and. the race would,be
loet.• jack had apparently played for
desperate stakes, and stood. a,good eliance
of losing,
"How muck farther is' it to the minis-
ter's, jack ?"
Ten miles."
"Oh, dear,there's the tollgate."
Like a whirlwind the waggon dashed
up to the low wooden structure. A man
'with sandy whiskers eame out. jaek
pressed a $5 bilhinto his hand.
"Never mind the change," he said,
"quick, lift the gate. It's life or death,
You're a good friend of mine, 33il1 ?"
"You can bank on that, squire. I
knower' your father and his father before
ham, and the family—"
"Don't waste a word than, Bill, Let
me through."
"Elopement ?"
'1
"Old man bank there ?" pointing to the
approaching cloud of dust.
" Yes, yes."
"Pretty hot, I guess,"
" Yes, quick or—"
" Got a gun, I guess?"
"For heaven's sake„ lift that gate
or—"
"He'd use it, too, he would. Why, I
remember when—"
"Up with that gate, Bill,"
" All right. It's rather unsociable
ye-ou are this morning, but 1 spose ye-ou
are rather busy, Good morning. I'd like
to be there and give away the bride, for
O bonnier girl there ain't to be found in
the country, even if she is the darter of
the meanest man in the vicinity, and, it's
Bill Goggins who says it."
Like an arrow from a bow they shot be-
neath the uplifted pole and Bill gazed
after them meditatively.
"Well, well, young blood and warm
hearts," said he. "That's just like me
afore I got old in the plow. Gosh, ain't
the old man tearing mad. Look at the
dust he's raising. He's rollin along like
a cyclone, waving his arms and shoutin'
mad. They -won't be much left of Jack
after he gets through with him."
The cyclone was approaching nearer
and nearer. In the centre of the cloud
could be seen a waggon, and in the wag-
gon an elderly man who held the whip
with one hand and the reins with another,
while between his knees was a formidable
looking weapon which looked like a
blunderbuss. He dashed toward the toll-
gate at about a 2.20 clip, and was about
to ride through when down came the pole
and. the horse sank back upon his
haunches.
" Toll," said the mild, pleasant voice
of Bill.
I ha,ven' t any time to bother with you,
you scoundrel," was the reply. "Lift
that bar."
"Really, now, that ain't a perlite way
to talk."
"Let me through, you rascal, or I'll
horsewhip you.'
"Well, now, two can play at that little
game. Toll, please."
The old gentleman fumed and raged
and then felt in his pocket. In his haste
in donning his trousers his change had
dropped to the floor and he hadn't a
cent.
"Here," he said, "I haven't any money
with me. I must get through. I must
catch that scoundrel ahead. Lift that
bar at once."
"We ain't doing business that way,"
was the calm reply. "It cost $228 last
year to maintain this private thorough-
fare, and we ain't running a charity toll-
gate."
The old gentleman nearly fell from his
waggon in an apopletic fit.
" You won't let me through 9"
"No, sir-ee." When Bill added the
extra syllable that meant business.
"Then, confound you, I'll—"
• He raised his gun. In a twinkling it
was wrested from him. Then Bill raised
the old blunderbuss and pointed it at his
opponent. The old gentleman got behind
the seat in alarm.
"Now, if you don't keep away I'll blow
• off your thinking cap," he said, as calmly
as ever.
The old gentleman dunked his head
more than ever to save that valuable por-
tion of his anatomy.
" Now I guess we can talk business,"
said Bill. "This ain'tmo Bastile, and it
ain't goin' to be stormed in that fashion.
You haven't got the price 9"
"Then you can't go through. Them's
the orders. '
Por an hour they expostulated. At the
end of that time another carriage ap-
proached and the oldgentleraan borrowed
a nickel from a friend and dashed on his
way. The man at the tollgate would not
surrender the gun, which he said had
been raised against him, and which he
wanted as evidence. Whet the old
gentleman reached the house of the min-
ister the young couple and the reverend
gentleman was strolling out of the front
door. Jack surveyed his irate father-in-
law calmly.
"You're a little late in getting here,
father," he said. "We hopedto have the
pleasure of your company, and, indeed,
wanted you to give away your daughter,
but time was pressing—and you under-
stand the anxiety of a lover—so we de-
cided not to wait. Still, better late than
never. You willat any rate have the
satisfaction of being the first tp eongratu-
late us. There is my hand sir. I thank
you for the honor of haying 'given me
your lovely daughter, and trust that I
may never prove unworthy of the con-
fidence you have bestowed upon me.
Edith, dear, receive the parental bless -
Hearts Won..
Clip, Clip, went the whip. One of the
most exciting races that ever took place
in the county was on. Dashing around
the conntry road came the black stallion,
and in the light waggon were seated a
couple whose destiny depended upon the
speed of the thoroughbred. A. young
man held the reins tightly, while his
companion, a girl with her hair flying all
over her face, gazed behind her at an ap-
proaching vehicle with apprehension
written upon her spirited features.
"Oh, Jack, they are gaining," she
breathed.
Clip, clip. The stallion was straining
every nerve. It was a stern chase and a
long one.
"11 pa does 'catch us, Jack, he'll kill
you," she whispered.
The waggon now was rocking like a
boat in a storm, and she clung with sol-
icitude to his arm.
"See, jack, he's got his gun."
A• & muttered something, pressed his
lips more closel3r.and again touched his
'whip to the flanks of the gallent nag.
"11 he only hadn't changed horses on
us sweetheart, weld have beaten him out
oethe county."
"Dad was always full of mean trinks,"
"That's so, the meanest man on
earth."
"No,not that, Jack—"
"Then -what does he want to come be-
tween us for? You belong to me, don't
you?"
"'Yes, bilt--"
"If that confounded dos hadn't barked
we'd have got away all right."
"I thought he'd bitten yott when he
flew at you like that."
"Only got a piece of cloth for his
trouble. Still it's embarrassing. If
had only an Ulster to put on. Might
trouble nee to eAplain to the minister—'-"
"11 .We only get there," sighed the
other.
" Get there ? We will or
"'Ye, die together."
eyes and stare blankly at the °Mors and
Utter no word,
" did. it, Reub ?" whispered
the wife.
Dan. Meachem, I reckon," he replies.
" Him went to town today on his rnewl.
Rim's just that honery."
They handeuffed him and hurried him
awav. The children drop back on. their
pillows and fall asleep again and the wo-
man blows out her candle and seeks her
bed. Dan Meachem is the constable at
the erose -roads hamlet, three miles away.
The woman could recall two or three
other cases in which he was believed to
have been guilty of giving information,
and as her heart hardenedshe said aloud:
"11 they -all let Reub go it will be all
right, but if they put him in prison Dan
Meathera shall die,"
There WAS no more thinking, or won.
dering, or planning. She said she would
do thus and so. Her resolution was un-
changeable. She hoped her husband
would return that day, but he au not,
Days passed, and at the end of a week a
neighbor told her that the Government
had a case against Reub and would hold
him for trial. She aid not fling herself
down and weep. Her eyes were not even
moist as she turned to her children and
said calmly:
t i
Chldren, yo'r pop's gwine ter be shet
up in jail fur a right smart while, and
it's no use to look fur him."
'1 What's jail?" asked. one in a dreamy
way,
"Plane fur pore fairs who try to make
o livinh Scatter off to bed now, 'cause
yo'r main wents to think."
She sat in front of the log fire with her
elbow on her knee and her chin on her
hand until they were fast asleep. Then
she rose and reached down the long -bar-
reled rifle from its resting -place on the
deer horns. It was loaded. She drew the
charge, -wiped the barrel clean and re-
loaded. Her face had worn an expression
of sadness as she sat looking into the fire.
She had no sooner taken down the rifle
than a dangerous gleam came to her eyes,
an4 she shut her teeth so hard that her
breathing was labored.
"They -all ar' gwine to hang to Reub,"
she said as she replaced the gun, "and
to-naorrer I'll ambush Dan Meachem."
That settled it. She was abed and
asleep twenty minutes later. In the
morning she would shoot the man who
betrayed her husband to the officers.
Why nob? An eye for an eye had always
been her maxim. Of course she would
shoot him. He no doubt expected her to
A Moonshiner's Wife.
At midnight there came a sudden
knocking at the door of the mountaineer's
cabin.
"Who's thar ?"
"Open the door, Bush! I have five
men with me, and it's no use for you to
resist. le we have to fire into the win-
dows some of your family will he killed."
" come out. What ails ye -all,
anyway ?"
"We for moonshining, Bush."
"Ruh! Ihn not skeart of that. Yo' -
all would a -showed more sense to come by
daylight. Reub Bush hain't been a -hid -
in' from nobody."
A deputy United States marshal and
posse on the one side and the owner of a
twenty -acre farm on the other. There's
a still hidden away in some gorge in the
mountains, but the marshalte men have
spent days and days in a vain search,
Some one has given iaforination that
Reub Bush is a moonshiher, however,
and he ie to be carried off to jail in hope
that a case inay be worked up against
him. In ten Minutes the naoonehiner is
ready to go with the posse. He betrays
neither indignation nor sueprite. lis
wife has few questions to ask and no tears
are shed. His three children have been
eroused from Sleep, but they rub their
do so. She never slept more soundly.
After breakfast next morning she said to
the children, as she opened the door to go
out:
" Mam's gwine to the cross-roads. Yo'
all kin keep the cabin while I'm gone."
Dan Meachem was hoeing corn in a
field half a mile from. his house. At 10
o'clock, as he reached. the west end of a
row and leaned on his hoe to rest for a
moment, a tongue of flame darted out
from the bushes, a rifle cracked and. the
man fell dead, shot through the heart.
"1 said I would, anal hey,
" whispered
Reub Bush's wife as she stood up and
looked over the hazel b-ushes at the man
lying on his back three rods away. "Dan
was onery. Him give Reub up. Him
deserved. it."
At noon she was horo.e with her chil-
dren. They were not observing children.,
or they would have noticed her pale face
and compressed. lips. She had work to
do, but she laid it aside and sat down on
th.e doorstep with her pipe. She hadshot
a man. She was waiting for men to
come and arrest her for the crime. She
had been seen on the highway with the
rifle on her shoulder, and no doubt she
would at once be suspected. Very well,
let them come.
An hour before sunset an officer drove
up.
" Howdy, Mrs. Bush?"
Meetly, Tom ?"
"Got to go with me fur shootin' Dan
Meachem."
She put on her sun -bonnet, refilled and
lighted her pipe and was ready. The
thildren betrayed no curiosity, asked. no
questions. As she followed the officer out
to the waggon she said:
" Yo'all shut up the cabin an' go over
to Uncle Jim's. They -all is gwine te
hang yo'r mam fur shootin' Dan Mea-
cham."
She climbed over the wheel to a seat
and was driven away, never once glanc-
ing backward—not a word to the man
who was driving her to her death.
of the fifth day Frank returned late te
his tent, troubled about his inan's safety
and worn out with the duties of the day.
In front of the tent he found a limp,
draggled speeimen of the genus home,
class Ethiopia, erotiehing over the fire,
nursing a, wounded arm—Zeph ! The
peer fellow arose, and, muttering some-
thing about '1 dat Yankee bullet," hands
ed a euriously-shaped package to his
master. It was wrapped in a. piece of
begging that was fastened with a thorn.
With tremblingfingers the captain seized
it, tore off the strange wrapping and re-
vealed—her answer I A pito knot !
Heroism of Women,
Man is the stronger sees undoubtedly,
but -which is the more heroic? The very
fact that we can ask this question after
the preliminary statement ehows that
woman is, Heroism means to triumph
over your own weaknesses, your own in-
firmity, over the pressure of circum-
stances around you, over temptations,
dangers and difficulties. he silent work-
ers, the noble martyrs to prineiple, the
uncomplaining household drudges who
sacrifice themselves for husbands, broth.
ers and children, and do it not in the
face ofan a.drairing audieiace, not to win
the plaudits of the crowd, not to be
cbronieled in story, but simply and un-
osteni aniously in the line of daty—these
are the true transfigured band of hero-
ines, greater than any epic heroes who
conquer heroically or heroically fall.
Yet eTell in the more obvious sorb of hero-
ism, even in the storm and. stress of
worldly action, even as military leaders,
as conquerors, as potentates, women have
inscribed their names on the most vali-
ant pages of history. We have all read
stories of Zenobia, of Semiriamis, of De-
borah., of Joan of Are. We have all
heard of Artemisia, queen of Carla, in
whom Xerxes boasted that he had found
ablescbravest counsellor and chief.
Her whose conduct at the battle of Sala-
mis wrang from him the exchimation
that his men were behaving like women,
his women like men, little knowing that
the highest compliment he could. pay his
women was that they were behaving like
true women. We remember how. when
Calms, queen of Carcassone, was besieg-
ed in that town by the Saracens, and
they in tlaeir masculine pride, taunted
her for that she should be spinning and
not fighting, she threw the taunt into
their faces by appearing in their very
midst with a lance wreathed around, dis-
taff like, with hemp, which she had set
aflame, a,nd how ingloriously they fled
from her.
In more recent history a less familiar
instance is that of Lady Dumont:ad. Her
husband, while in command of the Mil-
ian Rea, got becalmed in his flagship
under a battery, whence he was assailed
with redhot shot. In the face of that ter-
rible fire the gunners retreated from
their posts. Neither threats nor entrea-
ties were of avail. If the fire were not
returned the ship must inevitably be
destroyed with all on board. Lord Dun-
donald went down to the cabin where his
wife lay. "If a woman sets the example,"
he cried, "the men. will be shamed out of
their fear. It is our only hope." With-
out a wordshe rose and followed him.
As she stepped on deck she seemed to be
confronted by a flaming furnace of fire,
belching out death and destruction. She
calmly took a match and fired the gun,
which Lord Dundonald pointed. The
men were shamed. They returned to
their posts. The battery was silenced;
the ship and its crew were saved. One
of the greatest achievements of mascu-
line heroism has always been held to be
the defence of the pass at Thermopylae.
Modern historians have thrown grave
doubt upon the whole episode. They
doubt that there were only 8001they
doubt whether all or even the majority
of Leonidas' troops remained to be slain.
But no historian has thrown any doubt
upon the story of the 280 peasant women
of Switzerland, who during the French
invasion of 17982 rushed te, arms in re-
sponse to the patriotic eloquence of aged
Martha Glen and defended. their homes
unti1180 of them had been killed and all
the rest more or less wounded. These and
similar stories show that in the more
obvious forms of heroism, in the smoke
and. dust of battle women can play and
have played as glorious a part as the
most intrepid of their brethren—nay,
that they have frequently put their
brethren to the blush. In peace also wo-
man's victories have been no less glori-
ous thaii those won in war. The stories
of Grace Darling, of Florence Nightin-
gale, of Sister Gertrude, are all familiar
instances.
A great deedproperly recorded lifts the
heart to God; it brushes aside the vale of
prose in wheel our daily life is shrouded.
It shows that beneath the vale lies the
poetry, the romance, the awful beauty of
the godlike heart that makes us one with
God. It teaches us to think better of
ourselves and better of our fellows when
we find that a responsive chord within
all of us thrills at the mention of a
worthy deed. But what of the unchron-
icled deeds greater than even those that
have been recorded? Men live before
the world; they take part in the exter-
nal struggle of daily life; their deeds do
not so often as those of Women fall un-
noticed by their fellows. But women,
who are even more heroic than the most
heroic men, do and suffer in silence.
Theirs is th.e sacred solitude in evhich
they coene face to fece not with man, but
with God. Theirs is the true pathos and
sublimity of human life. Shall we sine
of heroes, of conquerors, of martyrs wee
have given their bodies to the flames and
build no lofty rhymes for those who have
experienced the cross and not worn the
crown of glory? Shall we miss the high
impetus that is afforded by the ehronicle
of deeds that have illaminated the sanc-
tuaries of private life? To a certain ex-
tent -we must. The inner conflicts that
flncl 310 expression through smiling lips,
how otherwise may they be expressed?
Much of the most bles, ed side of human
life and human experience we can only
guess at; we can never truly know. Let
us look around us end about us and see
that the chosen are still with us; that
the heart that beats to -day under calico
dresses, in humble tenements and in
lowly surroundings, is the same herb
that beats under the coat of mail of Joan
of Arc amid all the pomp of war—the
infinite, all encompassing heart of true
womanhood.
Her Answer (Pine Knot).
Alter two days' hard riding and. dodg-
ing of Yankee cavalry, Captain Frank
Barrett was very near his ideal of Para-
dise. That is to say, he was in the par-
lor of Colonel Selton's mansion, kneeling
beside a rocking chair in which was seat-
ed fair Mistress Marie Belton. A solitary
tallow -dip was the only witness of the
scene.
He opened his lips to tell her the love
that impelled him to take that foolhardy
ride, when the door was flung hastily
open. His servant rushed in crying:
"Ds Yankees is comin' ! Run, Males
Frank! Po' Gawd's sake! l'se done got
de hooses at de back doh"
With a fierce oath, Captain Frank
sprang to his feet. Pausing, he stooped
suddenly and kissed Marie, then, without
O word, dashed through the hall, leaped
on his horse and rode for his life.
A squad of Yankees turned the comer
of the house in time to witness his flight,
and, firing a Tolley after him, they gave
chase. As the bullets hummed around
him, the captain only bent a little lower
in the saddle and urged his horse to
greater speed. Closely pursued at first,
he finally distanced his enemies and de-
cided to cut across country and join his
regiment. Fortunately, he fell in with
his company the next night. In spite of
the fact that he was glad to be with his
men again he was nnhappy, for he was
uncertaixe how his suit had prospered.
Marie was looking towards the door -when
he stole that kiss, and afterwards poor
Frank groaned in bitterness of spirit.
There were weeks of hard fighting on
hand; he timid not apply for leave. As
for a letter—here he groaned again. It
was in the last days of the Confederacy,
and the voice of the greenback was scarce
in the land. Captain Frank had not a
cent in the world, and, as he knew, weld
neither beg nor borrow a bit of paper.
He was almost. in despair, when an idea
struck him ; with an exclamation of de-
light he hastened to an adjacent wood-
pile and procured a pine chip. He
smoothed it off and wrote on one side of
the chip in pencil "1" and on the other
side "thee "—I pine for, thee !
He ealled his man ZePh and gave him
the chip, with orders tie take it to Mise
Seitoti and beiag her aneWer. Zepli eon-
cealed it in his clothes; promised to re-
turn in three days mil vanished in the
wtiods. Three days passed, four, five,
still Zeph did not retitin. On the night
man or child pas deg eastward 04410t0a
OW point for Mr. A., those .going 'west-
ward for Mr, B. A red-haired worean
eounted five, a negro ten and a clog
twenty. In order to be counted every
man, woman and dog must pass eatirely
beyond the limits of the street bonuclary
of the hotel on the same side of the street
on which the hotel was situated, but dogs
were allowed the privilege of the Medway
so long as they did not get on the oppo-
site sidewalk. One hundred points cen-
stituted the game.
At 12 o'clock 110011 the game was called
and A scored two on a cou le of drygoods
clerks from one of the two neighborin
stores. B tallied three on a -woman wit
Iwo ehildren. Eight men, thve boys and
O lady shopper added twelve to A's score,
and B scooped in sixteen on a colored
muse wheeling a baby carriage, three
lawyers and the mayor and his wife.
Traffic maned for a moment when a,
hack drawn by a white horse dashed by
going eastward, and A. called out : "Tally
me five." "What for?" asked B. "A,
red-headed girl," responded A, "I don't
see any red-headed girl," said. B. "Oh,
but you are a chump," replied. A. "Don't
you see that white horse ?" And sure
enough a red-heaeed sehool-girl wended
her way by the hotel on her way home.
"Nineteen, nineteen," called. the scorer
ar d the stakes were &gabled.
B was the first to score after the tie,
adding two men, a lady and two telegraph
boys but he was quickly passed by A., who
drew a dog, a negro and an Italian organ
grinder with a monkey. Here a dispute
arose. A claimed that the monkey should
count the same as a dog, but was willing
to compromise on an allowance of a
negro's score. B refused to allow any-
thing, as the monkey was not m.entioned
in the catalogue of countable objects.
The bartender of the hotel had been ap-
pointed referee on account of bis
SuBi-
vanion physique, and he promptly al-
lowed A five, by splitting the difference
between the allowances of a white man
and the negro. Score, A 52, B 24,
B was falling behind, but he was game,
and there was not a tremor in his rocked-
in-the-eradle-of-the-deep bass voice when
he called for a tally of nine on account of
O bevy of typewriters, four of whom were
brunettes and one a strawberry blonde.
A policeman counted one (it ought to
have counted game, they are so scarce)
for A. A ray of hope lit up B's counte-
nance as he saw a shepherd dog coming
from the eastward alongside a butcher's
wagon, but it almost instantly vanished,
for just as the dog reached the eastern
boundary of the hotel front the dog's at-
tention was called to another canine,
who was disporting himself on the oppo-
site sidewalk, and, with a bark of recog-
nition, he hastened to join bow -wow No.
2. and together they raced. along the
wrong sidewalk until the western bound-
ary was reached, when they once more
took to the middle of the road. "Just
my luck," quoth B, and the scorer called
out: "A 56, B 88."
Hardly had the scorer made the an-
nouncement, when it became evident
that there was something in the wind. to
the east of the hotel. T wo doors below
was a saloon, where five -cent whisky was
the attraction' and one of the habitues
having strucka good game, had imbibed
five drinks in rapid. succession and, as a
natural result, he became boisterous and
started ili to disfigure the bartender. He
was promptly fired out and, a crowd of
men and boys flocked from. all directions
to witness the "shindig." Twenty-eight
men and eleven boys came from west-
ward andd, passed the hotel. thus making
A's score ninety-five, while not a soul
went in the opposite direction.
A now needed but five points, while B
was a long distance on the wrong side of
the half mile post. A was jubilant and
sent the bell boy to the barroom to order
a pousse-cafe. B had lost fihl hope and
had made up his mind to drink nothing
but beer when there came to his ears the
sound of muffled drums and the weird
strains of a funeral dirge. He pricked up
his ears, looked to the westward. and
there, sure enough, in the roadway was a
brass band heading a funeral procession,
and on the sidewalk coming toward the
hotel, in a column of fours, headed. by
the regulation officers, was a lodge of col-
ored Knights Templar.
A's jaw dropped on his breast and the
;corer shouted "B -wins in a walk."
AN BXDITIND CONTEST'. '
A New Gable or Absorbing Interest foe
Hotel Loungers.
Two well-known actors sat iii the office
of the principal hotel in a small eity some
time ago., and for the perpose of killing
time devised a name whieh they played
for drinks. Th•ry called the genie "The
Passing Regiment ." The betel was situ-
ated in the middle of the bloat On the
mein street of the city, Every man, WO.
O good boy ?" Mother Gooee Melodies is
a natiiral book, in the ss xis() that it is the
expressiou of the instinet iron' whieh
baby.tallt sprinp. It is not an intellect-
ual exereise, but it is an exercise of affee-
tion. It charms the nascent Sense of
rhythm, and suggeets fautenies WIWI to
A hearer "trailing clouds of glory are
not nonsense. Those impressions are not
readily recalled in later life, but the An-
cient tales and gayety of the nursery are
as persistent as other great facts. The
crusade against fairy lore is like the cru-
sade against the stage.
Auld. Lang Syne,
A. fog was on the Thames. The lights
along the quay were Wettest ia chill an The
tide was running, and its moan and sob
and sigh suggested to my mind a direly
lighted room, a little coffin and a haggard
-woman kneeling. 1 sat upon the taffeail
of a ship, and as I looked upon tbe great-
est city of the world asleep, and thought
of how the lilies bloomed and beautified
its slums, and gaudy poppies grew upon
the richest lawns of Little Dorritt and of
Becky Sharp. of Chatterton, his ininger
and his tragic death, and of Beau Brum.
mel's empty head and empty heart—as
painful paradoxes such as these came
crowding in my mind, Iturned my glance
upon tlae Thames and said "Now, in
tl30 name of God and justice, take these
peeple out, into the sea and bid them go
to other lands -where virtue, purity and
merit find reward." The thought was
barely formulated when I heard a sound
across the water that seemed to come in
answer to my invocation, " Clack-elack-
claelaelack-elack," It was a steamer's
capstan, and the metal paws in sharp,
vibrating intonation on the brakes told
me that the heavy non chain would soon
be taut. A breeze came up the riverand
the fog was slowly lilting. I discovered
a mighty vessel lying on the stream. I
heard a sailor's song, almost a wail it
was—
'The anchor is weighed. the anehor is weighed;"
and growing louder with the repetition,
the word e soon drowned the noise of cap-
stan and of creaking cable in the hawse.
Up through the hatches rushed a motley
crowd—half-clad men and boys, and wo-
men with the r babes held in their arms;
young girls, unmindful of their bare and
glistening feet and heedless of their naked
limbs, and toddling children. A thous-
and souls came up into the night and
stood upon the decks, teneath the hang-
ing lamps. The sailor ceased his song.
The regular staccato of the capstan came
again. A ragged man, wild -looking and
unkempt, sprang on the rail, and, taking
off his shabby hat, sent forth in pure aud
silvery tenor voice:
" Should mild acquaintance be forgot.
And never brought to min.'?
Should auld acquaintance be foixot,
And days o' auld lang syne 2'
I have heard five thousand voices Sing
in swgigerfest "Die Wacht am Rhine;"
I heard the Marseilles sung by an angry
mob, and once, in Denver. Col., -with Lo-
gan at their head, I heard the battle hymn
of th.e republic sung by veterans of the
war; but never did my heart throb so
tumultuously as when I saw these -women
hold their babes aloft, -with faces to the
quay, men weep unconcealingly, and lit-
tle children with their faces searedsand
pale, and. heard. the wondrous chorus of
their voices singing "Auld Lang Syne."
Slowly as they sang the great ship swung
around, and, with the ensign floating in
the gentle breeze, went out against the
tide. A boan that left her side was rowed
across our bows. " Boat ahoy!" cried. I.
"Iloilo !" "What ship is that?" "She's
the Australia." "What is she?"
"Emigrant, sir; the biggest one afloat;
she's outward bound, for New South
Wales." " My God I" I thought, "how
these poor people love their native land!"
Somehow my heart felt kindlier toward
the sleeping city. With all its painful
paradoxes, its sorrows and its wces, Crom-
well's harsh religion or Charley Stuart's
lust, the British of oak well love
old England still.
Must Mother Goose Go?
The sweet credulity of the nursery ac-
cepts Mother Goose without speeulation
or enquiry. When and where she lived,
whether there were a Father Goose and
little goslings, the rapt audience of her
rhymes does not ask. They are the fast
ver -e, except some now I lay we down
to sleep," which the children hear, and
they find in the rhymes nothing strange
or extravagann. They do not laugh nor
disbelieve. Little jack. Horner and little
Miss Muffet are as authentic personages
as their own companions Lucy and Mary
Jane, and that the cow jumped over the
moon is no more surprising than. that she
came in to be milked or chewed the cud..
From the domain of Mother Goose the
child glides into the world of faery, and
beholds Jack the Giant -Killer and Tom
Thumb and Cinderella and Jack of the
Bean -Stalk, and enters the lovely realm
of the Sleeping Beauty and Graeiosa and
Percinet and Beauty and. the Beast. It
is a realm of endless charm. Reiteration
does tot tire, and the young mind teems
with the fond fancies that outlast many
a sober thought and serious purpose, and
seem to the man a preliminary phantas-
magoria of life and human character.
But the child is neither a humorist nor a
moralist, and when, still later, he OOMeS
to read Pope's Homer and the mythologic
tales, it is with the same uninquisitive
wonder that he heard that the mouse ran
up the clock, and the legend of the house
that Jack built. Elia's protest against
the moral tales than, sought to supersede
the love of the nursery, and to transform
that Barataria into an infant school,
sprang from sympathetic instinct. "The
children of Alien call Bartrutn father,"
and although her quaint lover went un-
mated to his grave. his love of ehildren
made him their interpreter, and stiiged
his protest against the ruthless endeavor
to despoil childhood's- prieeless possession
—the world. of faery. The old. question
has been letely asked anew : "Why fill
the infant mind with images of cruelty
and horror? Why suggest to innocence
the dreadful visioa of ogres fattening
eaptives like sheep for there table ? Why
torture it with that appalling cabalistic
bloody invoeetion—Fee, caw, ? Why
permit the hoary murderer Blue neara to
terrify the young before in historical se-
quenee they reach Henry the Eighth, in
no extenuating page of Fronde, but as the
grisly murderer and defender of the faith
of the older annals? And why perplex
the callow pilgrim scarcely embarked oiz
the jeers -ley of life, whieh the reverend
atid the wise deseribe as a moral warfare,
by the rhyme whieh declares the greedy
thief Of a phut from the eopiods pudding
When Baby was sick, we gave her Castoria.
Nirhen she was a Child, she cried for Casteria.
When she became Miss, site dung to Castoria,
When she had Children, she gave them Castoria,
Did You Rnow This?
A newspaper cannot be run to suit the
individual tastes of its readers. It should
be treated as a bill of fare—you take the
things you like and leave the things you
dislike.
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