THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER
VOL. 111. NO. 18
THE '
Charlotte Messengerl
T"LJ SHED
Kvory Saturday,
AT
CHARLOTTE, N. C.
11l the Intercuts of the Colored People :
of tho Cc~aUy.
AhU r; ria wt*!l known writer* will contrib i
nle to *j* columns from different parts of tho
ooun (/y. an lit vill contain the latest Gen
er News of the day.
1 hk Messenger is a first-class newspaper
n?!d Mill not allow jiersonal abuse in its col
wtrins It Is not sectarian or partisan, but
independent—dealing fairly by all. It re
serves the righ tto criticise tho shortcomings
•of all public officials—commending tho
rrorthy, and recommending for election such
men as in its opinion are beat suited to serve
tho interests ot the people.
It is intended to supply the long felt need !
of a newsimiier to ad\-o« ate the rights and
defend th*i’’t<'r sts of the Negro-American. .
especially in tho J'i-.dioont section of th»
Carolines.
M) INSCRIPTIONS:
t Atttaj/sin Ailyann .;
1 year ' #1 V>
8 iuontlis - I 00
<> month; - ?a
4 months ;.o
Rnmnths - - to
Address,
TV- C. Sflfi’TH, Charlotte, W. C
Science can do wonders, and it is now
•asy to produce “crocodile tears” or any
ither sort required. Tlie essential oil oi
onions can now Ijc extracted. A single
3rop of this oil upon the handkerchicl
produces a flow of tears; two drops cause
persistent sobbing, and three grief ot
toe most suffocating and gasping kind.
The earthquake has deprived Georgia
if one of her natural curiosities. The
“Shaking rock” will shake no more.
For over a hundred years it has been an
tojeet of curiosity to the people of
hglethorpe county, and hnnclteds of
■overs have made it their tryst inf; place.
The earthquake has shaken it off its
aivot, however, and it now rosts solidly
in the bosom of the earth.
Tho Supremo Court of Vermont re
cently held that a husband is answer
able in damages for an assault commit
ted by his wife on one of his neighbors,
even if the assault was committed i
“against the will and in spite of tho best ;
endeavors of the husband.” “This ,
ruling,” says the New York Independent,
“is a relic of the old common law doc
trine that husband and wife are to be
legally deemed one and the same person.
Wc had supposed that this notion had,
in this country at least, become obsolete.
It never was anything but a ridiculous
notion. ’ ’
dome ingenious person has extended
the domain of vital statistics to railroad
car wheels. He keeps the pedigree and
record of each of tho 168,00 J wheels be |
longing to the l ake Shore railroad frotr i
the date it is received from the foundri
until it is worn out and thrown on tin
scrap iron heap or reaches some othci
luckless fate. Its size, character, rateo! j
pressure on tho axle, name of manufac |
turer. number and a score of other useful I
points are first concisely scheduled; thei j
its history begins. A glance wdl indicate j
how long it has been in service or how
many miles it has traveled, what mishapt
it has met, who its m to at the other enc
of the axle has been, under what cars ii
has revolved,for what ailment it has beer
treated, and a host of other interesting 1
things in carwhcel dogy. The idea is tc ;
see that each wheel lives up to the guar j
antec of toe maker, who warrants it tr ;
run 1.0,000 miles. Wheels lasts all th< ;
way from one year to sixteen years, ac
cording to their excellence of construe j
tion and the vicissitudes of their career i
A vessel propelled by electricity ha;.
crossed the English Channel for the firs
time. A trial trip was made by 'hi
electric launch Volta, the crossing occu
pying three hours fifty-one minutes, anc
the return journey four hours fifteen min
utes. Speed was not so much the object ;
as the demonstration of the worth of thi
r v periinent from a practical point ol
view, the inventors, .Messrs. Stephens
wishing to prove the value of their in i
vention as applicable to to pedo anc
other boats, which could be carried bt i
large vessels, and available at any mo
rnent. The Volta travel d fifty mile;
without her itored-up electricity bein;
exhausted, t-lie is thirty seven feet it
length and nearly seven feet beam, 1 i
built of steel plates aud is so constructec
that the whole of the spree beneath th«
deck floor ran he fitted with electric cell,
or accumulators, of which upward o
sixty were placed on hoard. The move
ment of the boat was quiet and stealthy
and there was an absence of ad noise, am I
the other accompaniments of steam
which must lie a great disadvantage to i.
torpedo boat when approaching an en
emj's vessel. So noiseless was her pass
age that a gannet asleep on the sea wa ;
caught with the hand.
SOME DAY. 1
A child, upon the wind swept hill,
TTRh face aHame and eyes alight,
I watched the sunset paint the sky
With varied colors, warm and bright.
The woods had oaught the tawny gold,
With gold, the fields, as well, were dyod;
Tlie river ran a stream of gold,
With golden fleese on either side.
I clapped my hands in childish glee,
My laughter rang out merrily;
But, even as I gased, there lay
Upon my face a dash of spray;
''l am so small, the wot'ld so wide,
Tho hills reach round on every aide;
The sky dips low, then draws away—
No end, no end, look where I may!
I. some day, must know more,” I sighed;
“More, more, I am not satisfied.”
And then, from off the meadow gay.
Or from my heart, I cannot say,
There came, in thrush-like melody:
"Some day; aye. aye, some day, some day!**
And down the hill my tripping feet
Responded to the rhythmic beat -
"Some day!”
A girl, an ardent girl, I stood.
With youthful heart beats all athriU.
And quaffed the goblet beauty's hand
Extended from that wind swept hill.
Aj ein, upon the evening sky.
The sunset painted colors bold!
A ' urnished brush touched wood and hill,
The cowslips drank their fill of gold,
As when a child, I laughed with glee,
So glad my heart, so glad and free!
With kindliug eyes I ga/cd—and yet
My glowing cheeks with tsars were wet:
"Th re is so much to life,” I sighed,
•’lt circles us on every side;
It shuts us in, then draws away,
No end, no end, look where we may—
-1 must impulsively I cried,
"Know more, I am not satisfied!”
Ti en from the hiil-top> far away,
Touched by the sun's last golden ray,
There floated out the words: "Some day,*
Like thread of silvery minstrelsy;
And back was thrown, o’er landscape w»-.V*>
By golden sunlight glorified—
" Some day. *
A woman grown, agaiu I climbed,
With panting breath, and footsteps slfl A }
The rocky hill, and from its crown
I wot he.l the distant splendors glow.
The wood.as in the olden time,
Aga ; ust the ovoning sky stood limned
A citadel of fiatning gold,
While burnished gold the meadows rimraei
En wrapt I go* »d, and felt a thrill
Steel forth aod all my being fill;
I and yet, for all, for all,
I felt the blinding teardrops fall:
"There is,” I sighel, "so much to life;
One endless chain—joy, sorrow, Strife-
Look where I may, no end I see—
No cud, no end, it wearies me!
"I must, I must know more,” 1 cried:
"I am net, Father, satisfied!* 1
Then from the silouco seemed to grow
Ite-puisive echoes, soft and low:
'Life here is life but just begun,
Along only entered on;
Beyond, with joy iutesified,
We shall be more than satisfied.
Some day.'*
—Belle Kellogg Toume, in Good House keep
ing.
THE TWO ARTISTS.
A yellow, September morning had
risen over Crescent I’oint. Par off in the
d.stincethe glancing of white caps re
vealed a still breeze; up the slope of the
yellow, crinkly sands in iront the foamy
surges crept with a soft sound: and Alice
Aylmer stoppi d a moment at the door of
the old ruined lighthouse, to talk with
David Neill, the boatman.
“Another artistr"’ said she. “At
Crescent Point.' Oh, why can’t they
keep awayi”
“J suppose, roisq” said David, with a
shicwd shrug of the shoulders, as he
went od < sulking the seams of his
battered old boat, “they think it’s a
sightly place. I’vo many a time wished
I could paint myself, when I’ve been out
on the bay, of a moony night, or betwixt
day and dawn, when the sky was all
p nky red, and the morain’ star a-shinin’
like a lamp over the old light home too.
liut I hadn't never no talent way,” ho
added, with a sigh.
“Is it a famous artist?" Alice asked,
wistfully.
Old David shook his head.
“There you have me. og'in,” said he.
“1 dunno much about them things. Ills
name is Ksterfield, and he ain’t bad-look
ing.”
“Oh!" said Alice. “The husband of
that cross invalid at the Ocean House. I
pity him!” she added, with a sigh.
So she went on up the winding stone
stairway to the little lantern-chamber,
which she had transformed into an im
promptu studio.
When the lightship off Crescent Point
had usurped the office of the old light
house, farmer Aylincr had bid in the
strip of seashore and the ruinous stone
building at a nominal price.
“It'll do to store salt-hay and seaweed
in,” said he “if it ain't good for nothing
else.”
liut Alice, his granddaughter, had
pleaded for it.
"It will make such a nice studio for
me. grandfather,” she said, and she had
her way.
Alice Aylmer loved art with a genuine
love, and *ho put all her soul into ths
glowing little pictures that the sketched
on the conch-shells and bits of floating
spar and stones washed into perfect
ovals hy the restless ebb and flow of tho
tide*.
Each of them was a little gem in its
way, and as they were sold, one by one
to the tine ladies and languid “vacation
ist*” at the hotel, it gave Alice a seeret
pang to part with every one.
Hut it was her bread-winner, that del
icate taste of hers in color, perspective
CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY. NOVEMBER 6, 1886.
and line. Farmer Aylmer was old and
feeble, and it p eased Alice to think that
she Was helping the k r.d grandfather
who had been all the parent that she had
ever known.
Up to this time she had had no rival
in this ipccial line of art, nnd she was a
little amazed when old David announced
the appearance of th's new artist on the
field of action.
But if he has an invalid wife to sup
port, I can’t so much blame him,” she
thought. “Poor fellow! Every one
has trials in this world, so far as I can
seel”
When she came out of the lighthouse
at noon—sue would iikc to nave prose
cuted her work a little longer by this
glorious mid-day glow, if it had not been
for getting her grandfather’s dinner, at
the old farm-house under tho cliff—she
Baw a youDg man sitting on the keel of
David Neill’s upturned boat, and talking
with this sturdy toiler of tho sea. '
“Here’s the gen’leman I was fellin’ ye
’bout. Miss Alice.” said David, with” a
simple ceremony of introduction. “Mr.
Esterfield, this is our Miss Alice.”
“Mr. Esterfield took off his broad
brimmed hat and bowed courteously.
"I am told that your family owns this
picturesque old ruin,” said he, inclining
his head toward the lighthouse.
“Yes,” said Alice.
“I should like to rent it for a studio.”
“I already occupy it as a studio,” said
Alice, stitt y.
“Indeed! Then,” said he, “you arc
the young lady who paints those little
couch-shells and smooth stones. They
arc very pretty, indeed 1”
A1 ce bowed with conscious pride.
“That room up there would be a glo
rious studio!” said Mr. Esterfield, long
ingly. “Couldn’t you give me easel
room there? I think the sight of the
sea and the sound of the breakers would
inspire me.”
"I have no more space than I myself
need to occupy," said Alice, more frigid
ly than before.
Was it not bad enough for this patron
zing artist to come here at all, poaching
(so to speak) on her manor, but he must
zven want to crowd her out of her soli
tary tower of refuge? This was certain
ly the height of presumption!
But as Alice fried the fish nnd sliced
up the juicy, crimson- tomatoes for her
jrandfatheEs meal, a softer sentiment
Mined ill her bosom.
Perhaps the young man was poor and
friendless, struggling to make his way
in the world; and that invalid wife of
his, w o could not stir without crutches,
and who was universally reported to be
jo very uncertain in temper—was not
lhat trial enough for anybody?
Alice was sorry that she had spoken
jo sharply.
When she came back across the glis
tening sands, where the low tide had left
its deposit of feathery seaweed and deli
cately-tinged shells, Mr. Esterfield sat
sketching by the old boat.
“I havcchangcd my mind,” said Alice,
walking up to him. “There is space for
your easel, as well as mine, in the lan
tern room."
“May we share tho studio together?”
said the young man, joyfully. “Thanks,
a thousand times! and I will try to take
up as little room as possible.”
So there were two artists now in tho
round room of the lighthouse.
Grandfather Aylmer came there some
times to read his paper and chat. Old
David '’posed” more than once, after
Mr. Esterfield had made him compre
hend that he was to come in his fisher
man's suit instead of his Sunday clothes,
with a stiff collar and a hat that came
down over the bridge of his nose.
Alice grew to like her fellow-artist,
and she tieated him with a soft, gracious
dignity that became her well.
‘‘Everybody seems to admire your pic
tures so’much!” said she, w th a sigh.
“I wish I could paint as you do.”
"It’s all in practice,” said Mr. Ester
field, intent on bringing out the scarlot
touches in a cluster of autumn leaves
in his foreground.
“How me; it would be,” said Alice,
“if Mrs. Esterfield could come here and
look at you work.”
“Don’t mention such a thing, pray,”
said the artist, laughing. “I ve the
greatest respect for her, of course, and
consideration, nnd all that sort of thing;
I nut uetween ourselves, miss Alice, were
. a great deal more peaceful here without
| her than with her. She can't help
j scolding and fretting and finding fault,”
he added, apologetically, as Alice looked
| reproachfully at him. “It’s her nature,
j 1 suppose.”
“Poor fellow!” thought Alice. “But
he ought not to speak so of his wife."
She began to wonder wnat sort of a
person Mrs. Esterfield was as to looks.
Was she pretty? Was she young?
Yet Alice was too proud to ask ques
tions of anybody, and sin; was delighted
when there came an order for a painted
conch-shell from a Cuban lady at the
hotel, who djsired it for a souvenir.
“I will take it there myself,” she
thought, “and I shall see Mr. Kstcrficld's
wife. And then- then I think I hud
better accept Cousin Betsey Prideaux's
offer to go to Nebraska City, to teach
her little girls.”
For Alice had just begun to be con
scious that she w»i becoming too much
interested in Gordon Esterfield. He was
so young, so linndsome, so enthusiastic
in his art—and even the fact of that
great tr.nl of h s existence, the crippled
wife, lent an additional glamour to bis
surroundings.
The Cuban lady wub charmed with the
painted conch shell.
“I shall show it to I.a Donna Ester
field,” ahe said. “Come with me, sig
nora. Da donna is a critic—she knows
j all of art.”
And Alice timidly followed the fat
Cuban lady into n shaded room, where,
wrapped in shawls, a pallid, middle
aged personage lay on a sofa.
"It's pretty w* 1,” she said, discon
' tented Iv, surveyingthe shell. “It’s crude
—all thesthings are crude. What can
a young girl know of true art feeling?
Aobody undc istands—not even Gordon.
Where’s the young woman? Dether come
in. Let her come around by the wiudow,
where lean see her.”
The tables were turned. Alice had
come to see Mrs. Esterfield, and Mrs.
Esterfield was delermined to see her.
Blushing deeply, she obeyed. The yel
low faced little indy took a long stare at
her.
“Well,” said she, “you are pretty. He
said so, but I didn’t believe him. Sit
down. Let me talk to you.”
“No, thanks,” cried Alice, feeling as
if all her veins were filled with fire. “1
—I want to go back home now; grand
father will be wanting me.
And she made her exit with more ve
hemence than ceremony.
“Country-b:ed 1” said Mrs. Esterfield,
lifting her tow-colored eyebrows. “That
is plain enough! But pretty!”
“How I pttv him! oh, how sorry I feel
for him!” Alice kept repeating to her
self, as she hurried home.
Perhaps, also, she pitied herself a lit
tle, for the tears kept trickling down her
cheeks like the soft, slow drops of sum
mer rain.
“Alice 1 Why, what is the matter?”
It was Gordon Esterfield’s voice. He
was close behind her, in the narrow lane,
where the blackberry-vines were turning
scarlet, and the path was carpeted with
yellow leaves.
She tried desperately to recover her
self.
“The matter? Nothing! Why should
anything lie the matter?” retorted she.
“You are crying.”
“I am not crying! Why should I be
crying?”
“Alice, will you not tell me? Dear
Alice, I love you! I was coming this very
day to ask you to be my wife,” he
pleaded.
She turned on him with crimsoned
cheeks and flashing eyes.
“How dare you thus insult me?” she
exclaimed. “Goto vour poor, deluded
wife! ’
“Alice!” he cried; “what on earth are
you tattling anoutt 1 naven t got any
wife. I never had a wife. Anil I never
shall have, unless you will say ‘yes’ to
me.”
“But Mrs. Esterfield, in the hotel?”
“She’s my aunt,” he explained. “You
don’t menu to ;ay that you thought she
was—my wife!"
The comic dismay of his tone, the re
vulsion of feeling in Alice Aylmer’s own
heart, were t o much for her. She burst
out laughing, then she began to cry.
And bvtbe time that Mr. Esterfield had
succeeded in comforting her, they were
engaged.
“But—but,” faltered Alice, “Ithough!
you were a poor artist! I felt so sorry
for von!”
“Pity is akin to love,” Mr. Esterfield
responded. “lam an artist, but I am
not poor. Especially since you, my love,
have given me the treasure of youi
heart 1”
“Yes; but everything has ended so
differently from what I thought il
would." cried Alice.
“Hasn’t it ended exactly right?”
“Yes, but—
There was never any end to this sen
tence. Mr. Esterfield stopped it with a
kiss.— Helen Forres s Graves.
The Now York Stock Exchange.
New York has no more entertaining
public exhibition than its Stock Ex- I
ebango. It is one of the show places of
tho city. Thither goes tho citizen for
amusement and thither he takes his coun
try acquaintance. The latter is at first j
uncertain whether he has been brought j
to a madhouse or to Pandemonium. The !
idea th it thejnarket value of our leading
securities should be determined by what
appears to him to be a howling mob of
incurable lunatics is incomprehensible.
He can make neither head nor tail of it.
He looks down from a lofty gallery upon '
a large uncarpeted and unfinished floor
filled with walking figures, the most of
whom appear very angry and very un
mannerly.
TVhat exhibitions they do make of
themselves to be sure! Two well dre-sed
men suddenly rush at each other, shake
their fingers in one another’s faces and
shout. When apparently on the point
of clinching or striking they stop, pro
duce bits of paper, and notgs are made— j
evidently an appointment for a settle
ment elsewhere. Again, without any
visible provocation, a number of figures
cluster about a given point, gi sticulating,
scrambling and pushing for all the world
like a flock of hens when a handful of 1
grain is dropped among them. A mo
ment more and the circle is broken, its
members joining new combinations.
When a score or two cf these scrambles
are going on at the same time the effect
upon the unaccustomed spectator may
he imagined.
To the initiated there is nothing mys
terious or unintelligible in ail this
clamor. The iiaiticipnr-ts are simply
buying and selling stocks. The two
demonstrative individuals have discussed
and closed a bargain. Instead of an ap
pointment for a meeting, w th pistols
for two, their memoranda contain noth
ing more than the terms of their agree
ment. The volcanic cluster wai formed
about some one who wanted to purchiiso
or to sell a bio k of a certain stock, and
whose unnoun cment of that fact
brought about him a crowd of eager
dealers with offers or bids, as the case
m ght be.
When a sale is made the particulars
are at once secured by telegraph agents,
who flash the transaction all over the
country, and the price of one ;tock is
fixed for the time for an entire nation.
In that apparently rough-and-tumble
way transaction aggregating hundreds
of millions of dollars a day arc affected.
The Exchange is simply a big bazaar
for the sab- of bonds and stocks.— Hew
York J/eralJ.
If there is any one who should be i
“rap; ed in slumber” it is the man who
snores. 1 1
Terms. $1.50 per Annm Single Copy 5 cents.
BLOWN UP IN A MONITOR.
AN INCIDENT OF FABKAOUT’S AT
TACK ON MOBILE BAY.
One of the Tecumseh’s Crew De
scribes the Onset of the Federal
Fleet—A Destrettvo Torpedo.
Carrington Smith writes as follows in
the Detroit Free Press: “I was trans
ferred to the monitor Tecnmseh about
ten days previous to the fight in Mobile
Bay, and reached the station with her
only the day before the fight came off.
Parragut had only been waiting for out
arrival to begin the attack, and from
noon on the 4th of August until daylight
of the sth was a busy time with us.
Every portion of the Tecumseh’s machin
ery was overhauled, her plating ex
amined, ammunition replenished, and
the sick were landed and new men
drafted to replace them. I had oppor
tunity before we took our place in line
to look over the prospective battleground
and make a private calculation on our
chances. Mobile Bay had long been
the bugaboo of the Federal navy. The
strengthening of its defenses, with the
probable number of torpidoes scattered
about, had been passed from man to
man until even the coal-heavers had come
to consider that point invulnerable.
Fort Morgan, which must be passed at
close range, was a very strong fort,
mounting about fifty guns, while Fort
Gaines, a smaller work, mounted over
twenty. A line of piling had been
driven across the bay between the two
works, and the channels were filled with
torpedoes, rafts, booms and tangles of
rope. In addition to the forjs there were
one Confederate ram and three or four
gunboats lying above the works in a po
sition to rake any vessel which might
succeed in passing up. The forts mounted
guns throwing pro jectiles weighing from
twenty-four to liO pounds, and the ram
was iron-plated and had powerful Brooke
rifles and Columbiads. How the crews
of the other ship 3 felt about it I cannot
say, but I know that on board the Te
cumseh we talked the matter over that
night in whispers among ourselves, and
it was agreed that at lelst half the fleet
xvould be knocked to smithereens. Next
morning, when we found that the four
monitors were to pass in lino inside of the
rest of the fleet and come to a standstill
opposite Fort Morgan while the wooden
vessels steamed past, we felt that we
should he sunk inside of ten minutes.
While this feeling was strong upon us
ouz enthusiasm for a fight was not damp
ened in the least. I never saw men more
ready to go into battle, nor more deter
mined to give the enemy the best they
had
We moved about 6 o’clock on the
morning of the ’.th, the men having been
pipe l to early breakfast and the monitor
put in the best possible condition. The
twelve or fourteen wooden ships were
lashed in couples and took the outside
track, while the Tecumseh went ahead
at the signal and led the monitors into
the bay. It was a sight long to be re
membered. The Confederates were
ready for us, as all knew, and the flags
over the fort; streamed away in the light
morning breeze, which scarcely rippled
the surface of the water. On board of
our craft tho only sound breaking the
deep stillness as we moved up wa3 the
throbbing of the machinery. Every man
was in his place, and every voice was si
lent. We fired the first gun of the whole
fleet, and fiom that moment every man
felt free to shout and cheer and give
vent to his enthusiasm. The first
shot which struck us was one from
the Confedeiate fleet. It was a raking
shot and glanced off, but the shook
was sharp enough to be felt all over the
ship, and so startled those near the spot
where the shot struck. After that,
although bit lepeatedlv, we did not no
tice the shucks. This was owing to the
fact that every man was busy, and to the
horrible din of our guns. Every time
one was discharged the monitors would
heel to port in away to almost upset us,
while the ears did not lose the shock of
one discharge before another came. We
were moving at slow speed, and dis
charging our guns as fast as possible,
when we suddenly felt our craft lifted
out of the water. At the same instant
there was a terrible ripping and rending
of iron and wood, and when we came
down it was to disappear beneath the
water like a stone. I have no recollec
tion of being hurled or thrown, or of
making any effort of my own to escape.
The next thing I knew I was struggling
in the w ter v. ith others, with the
beach so do e at hand that I could sec
the Confederate gunners at their guns
and hear every command given.
They were firing over our heads, and
the fleet was returning the tire, while
now and then shrapnel or grape shot
spattered in the water around us. I saw
some of our men striking out for Bhore,
but being a good swimmer, and seeing
that the chances for reaching one of the
ships was equal, I struck out in the op
posite dinction and was presently picked
up by a boat. Ten or twelve of our
crew were rescued by the same boat, and
we had scarcely been pulled in when a
gun on the fort was trained on us and
kept np its fire for about twenty minutes.
Its shots dashed water over us repeated
ly, and two of tho tars were splintered,
but wo got out of range without having
a man hit.
When the Tecumseh was raised it was
found that a torpedo, which must have
been charged with several hundred
pounds of powder, had blown a large
hole in her bottom and opened almost
every seam in the craft.
No man for any considerable period
can wear one face to himself, and an
other to the multitude, without finall}
gelt ng bewildered as to which may b<
true. — Hawthorne.
Rudolph Falb, European forewarner
of seismic di-tttr nnee:. who has scored
one success, predicts there will be a great
flood on the earth in the year A. D. 6400.
SHADOWS AND MIST.
I watched the shadows of the night
Crush out the day on left and right
Till with the birds' last lingering croon
The shadows deepened, and the moon
Rose sad and white.
Rose sad and white, the moon, and pale
About its head a misty veil;
Or was it like a sainted soul,
Blessed with a heavenly aureole
Pore, radiant, frail?
Pure, radiant, frail the mist appears
“ 'Tis rain,” I thought. In after years
I found that In our lifetime's night
An aureole's faint, heavenly light
Betokens tear?.
—Julie M. fAppmnnn. in Jr\'Jr pendent.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
Moves in the best society—A fan.
The conductor is a ladies’ man. He lx
ilways after the fare.— Boston Budget.
No longer doth the unripe apple
With the small boys in’nards grapple.
—Boston Courier.
A tourist without money is a tramp.
A tramp who has money is a tourist.—
Siftings.
A debt of gratitude is too often com
promised at about 10 cents on the dollar.
—Kansas City Squib.
The next Congress will be Lth Con
gress. Let us hope it will also be an
Ltby Congress.— J.owell Courier.
“What is the matter with you, John
ton, you bark so?” “Oh. nothing, only
[ slept out under a tree last night.”—
Carl Pretzel's Weekly.
An agricultural exchange thinks that
the old fashioned plow is sozn destined
!o become a thing of the past. We have
often thought it was being run into the
ground.— Burlington Free Press.
An out of town paper tells its readers
how to pre erve fruit. Many now
fangled ideas arc set forth, but none
better than the ancient custom of leaving
the bull-dog unchained.— Graphic.
A wine merchant who had made a for
tune and retired once remarked: “They
sccuse me of having a thirst for gold.
On the contrary, 1 have the gold of
thirst!”— French Fun, in Till-Bits
DISCRETION.
Said Tom, when kicked
And valor seemed to lack,
“A man can’t help
What's done behind bis back.
—Judge.'
Oi eighty girls landed at Cast e Gar
den recently fifty-two were red-haired
As they all went West, scientists will.no
doubt, soon begin to see and diagnose
red sunsets again.— Binghamton Bepub
lican.
It is the general belief that the poet is
ilways soaring in the clouds; this is fal
la»y. There is not much soar to him
when the landlord comes in by the back
way with the monthly rent bill. — Boston
Courier.
“How can a worthy young man get a
jtart in life?” Thisoft-repeated question
wearies ns. We are able to think of
nothing at present that gets away with
the old-fashioned bent pin.— Burlington
Free Press.
When a man suddenly takes to wear
ing a plug hat and has an insane fond
ness for shaking hands with people upon
the street, he ought to be carefully
watched. He is developing symptoms
oi political ambition and is after some
office.— Fall Jliver Herald.
Family Love.
“There is but one pure, good idea
which is common to all men and .ani
mals.” says Poyntz, and that is—the
family.”
One of the wisest and most prominent
of living American statesmen once said :
“Whatever power I have of in uencing
other men, or of controlling mvself, 1
loirned at home, among my brothers and
sisters. We were a large family, with
differing tastes and characters. The re
straint. the forbearance, the tact neces
sary for a peaceful life with each other,
fitted us for friction with tho world out
side.”
Boys and girls are apt to look upon
the family relation ns a matter of course,
as inevitable and fixed as the rising of
the sun or moon, without recognizing its
effect upon themselves. How necessary
and permanent this effect is was Shown
in England lately by an experiment which
was made by some well-meaning re
formers. A large number of children
were removed from wretched homes.and
brought up in industrial schools under a
scientific and moral regimen.
When the girls were old enongh, they
were put out to service, but in every in
stance complaints were made of their
cruelty to children, of their ingratitude,
and of the impossibility of winning their
affection. “The human nature in them
is utterly dwarfed,” wrote one observer.
“They are only morose, ill-natured ma
chines ” Better that a child should be
reared in a bad family than in no family
at all.
Brothers and sisters often find it im
possible to feel a deep, true affection and
admiration for each other. There may
be a wide discrepancy in character, tastes,
and habits of thought between them.
After all, the dove does not ally itself
with the crow. But there is a genuine
loyalty which can take the place of spon
taneous sympathy. Beside this there is
no mortar to bind different parts of •
household together like kindness and
unvarying courtesy in trifles.
“I knew his mind wai affected, for he
spoke roughly to me,"said Castlereagh’s
valet. How mauv sisters could tnut
testify of their brothers?— Youth's Com
panion.
't he Salvation Army, at its recent in
ternational congress in London, claimed
to have 1,550 army corps, and ;t,603 offi
cers; and to have held an,Boo weekly
and 1,406,400 daily services, and to print
its newspaper in nineteen different lan
guages.