THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. 111. NO. 41.
THE
Charlotte Messenger
IS PUBLISHED
Every Saturday,
AT
CHARLOTTE, N. C.
In the Interests of the Colored People
of the Country.
Able and well-known writers will contrib
ute to its columns from different part* of the
country*, and it will contain the latest Gen
eral News of the day.
Tiie Messenger is a first-class newspaper
and will not allow personal abuse in its col
umns. It is not sectarian or partisan, but
independent-dealing fairly by all. It re
serves the right to criticise the shortcomings
of all public officials—»commending the
worthy, and recommending for election such
men ns in its opinion Sire best suited to serve
the interests of the people.
It is intended ♦*> supply the long felt need
of « newspaper to advocate the rights and
defend the incercsts of the Negro- American,
especially in the piedmont section of the
Carolinaa.
SUBSCRIPTIONS:
(Always in Advance.)
1 year - (l AO
>* months - - - Ino
* months . - - To
4 montlw - - 50
%S months - - - 40
Address,
W-C. SMITH, Charlotte NC,
Bishop Warren, of the Methodist Epis
'•'•opal docs not believe in gentle
preaching to rich sinners. lie says there
o/r some pastors who go at it in this
rfyle: "Brethren, you must repent, as it
were; and he converted, in a measure;
1 r you will be damned, to some extent.”
Honduras is reported to be making
* apid strides in substantial development.
The national debt is being reduced)
schools, colleges and telegraph lines are
■ ir.g established, and roads are being
Gv\i!t. Under this favorable condition of
affairs American capital is flowing into
the country, it is amply protected
by law, amd valuable concessions granted
to; public improvements. A bank the
orst in the country -has just been cslab
r.hcd. by Amotions at Truxillo.
"Englishmen, Germans, Americans,
Frenchmen and Italians do not take
kindly to bull-fights,” says the Boston
Tra. icrif t. "Spaniards and their dc
r cendnats delight in them. Englishmen
■Germans, Americans, Frenchmen and
T taliansmake good soldiers, and Spaniards
nd Mexicans do not. Perhaps this is not
a coincidence, but it certainly is sug
gestive of a rare decadence, when people
enjoy a ghastly and cruel spectacle in a
bull ring and shrink from a battlefield.’’
Tlx Kansas City correspondent of the
A Gants Constitution tells a long and in
terring story of how a congregation in
Southwestern Kansas placed on the spire
• f its church, as a weather vane, a large
gildt 1 fish; and how a fishhawk hover
: ng about the vicinity was so deceived bj
L life-like appearance that it swooped
down upon it and carried it off in its
Taions.- The most interesting point in
the narrative is the presence of a fish
ha.*.k in southwestern Kansas.
A New York physician wrttes that.
«•*■ * ; ac, belonging to the class of excel*
i' iit remedies, is apt to beget a habit that
h Amo. t imporsible for the individual to
f ib 1 le—'i habit worse than that of alco
h*>’, cp'um or chloral. He recommends
the establishment of asylums for the
v:< i.r.s of morphine, chloral and cocaine.
TVs hypodermic use of morphine, he de
clares, is second only in evil to the use of
cocaine, and in-triimcnt makers should
he prevented from selling, under any cir
cumstances, an instrument to any one
who is not a physician. •
A curious proposition has just be cm
made by M. Camille Flammarion, the
w-Jl known French scientific writer. He
•:~hr*sn; one.? to p/eserve international
p .rp and to enlarge the sum of human
•am»wledge concerning the structure ol
the earth. To this end he would have
ti;' various Fnropean governments unite
and turn their soldiers into miners and
their bayonets into pickaxes and spades.
At some Miitable place a vast well should
he excavated, miles in depth. Indeed,
M. Flammarkm would dig downward un
til he r*?» hvd the "central fire,” or the ,
eentr • the glebe. Thus positive know
led;;n < i\'t structure of the earth would
he gun;!?; peace for the time .would be
secure.', ijv the nations would neither
fight nr. feir each other while nil their
nnnic • ere underground • and, indeed a
permanent re ‘.gn of pc ice would be; begun,
since the soldiers in the mine's would for
get. the arts of war. and the nations, find- j
:ng out how well they got along without
them, would r.iLe no more great nrma
meats. The New York Tribune says this
"is an ingenious plan, and probably would
have the results M. Fi iimnarion predicts,
if the Powers eonld be persuaded to go in
lor it. But wc fear that if’ is fatal.”
THE VILLAGE 0-**CLE,
Beneath the wcathor-bc&6en porch
Tliat shades the village store,
He sits at case, an aged man
Os threescore years and more;
That ample seat for him is placed
Beside the open door.
His face is very keen hud .shrewd,
And piercing nre his eyes,
As with an air of prophecy
Ho scans the cloudy skies;
And children look with awe on him,
For he is weather-w ise.
And jolly farmers riding by
On loads of fragrant hay,
Call out: “Good morning, Uncle Dave,’’
And “Will it rain to-dayF
While boys who would a-fishing go,
Await what he will say.
“Wal, es the wind should change about,”
(They listen eagerly,
But he is very slow and calm,
For thus should prophets be;)
"Mebbe them clouds will bring us rain,
But—-I dt?»;~ 0 We
And ever as the M*»«uns come,
And as the sear.ms go,
The oracle is asked the signs
Os wind, or rain, or snow;
And still he never hesitates
To answer: “I dunno.”
—Miss Anna K. Treat, in Siftings.
ANNA SHIPTON’S TRIAL.
_ "Your mind is made up, then, Anna.
You threw me over for them.”
"Throw you over, George,” said the
girl in a pained voice. "Oh, no! no! nol
But don’t you sc- that my first duty is to
my parents? Oh. you must see it,
George; so, please don’t so hard upon
me!”
"It’s you that’s hard on me I think,”
responded the young man bitterly, "and
I see nothing of the kind, Anna, neither
will your parents, lam sure. You know
it was always a promise that wc should
be married this April, and now you refuse
to keep that promise; if that’s what your
religion teaches you—-to go back from
your word - I don’t think much of it.”
“But, George,” looking up «t him
with the tears shining in her hazel eyes,
"don’t you yourself think it would be
wrong if I deserted my parents in their
trouble? liow could I hope lor God to
bless me in my married life if I failed in
my duty to them who loved me before I
knew it?”
"You talk so much of duty,” said her
lover, fretfully, “duty to them, I mean;
you never seem to think that I ought to
bo considered at all. but the truth is
you’re tired of me, arrd make your moth
er’s illness an excuse lor throwing me
over, only I think it would be more
straightforward if you said so plain out.”
"I thought you loved me, George,” the
girl said, looking into his eyes with her
tear-dimmed ones.
"Os course you know* I do, but it seems
as though you cared precious little about
me.”
"But. George, if you love me, how can
you think that I am deceiving you when
I say that the reason I cannot marry you
is because of my mother’s illness? Sure
ly one doesn’t doubt where one truly
loves. ”
"Ah! you are trying now to rake up
some okl grievance about me as a sort of
excuse for your not keeping your word;
out with it, then; give me a chance to de
fend myself.”
"I was not thinking of anything of the
sort,” she answered, a little indignantly.
Then laying one hand ou his arm and
looking pleadingly in his face, "George,
do not let us part in anger to-night; in
deed, I have enough to bear without that;
let me keep your love to help me to do
my duty bravely and cheerfully.”
"Your duty, Anna, is to marry me,”
he said, stolidly; "a promise is a "prom
ise.”
"And I would have kept it, George, oh,
how gladly! had it not been for my
mother’s illness. The doctors say it will
in all probability be six months, perhaps
more; before she will be able to get about
again ; but doctors are liable to be mis
taken, so perhaps it won’t he so long as
that; at any rate, wc will hope so.”
“I don’t at all see why we should not
be married in a fortnight’s time, for all
that,” urged her lover. "You could al
ways come over here once a week to see
her, anyhow, and tliat would be as often
ns she could expect, considering that our
hoipc would be seven miles away. Come,
my lass,” putting his arm round her, ‘pet
us go to the old people, and sec if I can
not persuade ’em to let it it be as I say.”
"Ah, no!” grasping his arm tightly,
as though to hold nim back from carry
ingoutsuch an intention; "you must not
do that. They might, perhaps,, give in,
thinkingthat if was for my happiness,
when all the while—”
"It.wouldn’t be!” interrupting her.
"No, because it would be a selfish
thing for me to do, and nothing shall
make me do it,” firmly.
"Vcay well then,” said the youg man,
taking his arm from round her waist;
"we will part, as you don’t rare for me
enough to marry me. I'll set about look
ing lor somebody else who docs and
will.”
With that George Harwood strode
away, she watching his retreating figure
with a numb pain at her heart, only half
comprehending that he had left her for
ever—was no more her affianced husband;
gone from her, never to return.
The knowledge, when she fully carno
to realize it, was so fraught with anguish
that she threw herself down on the sands,
convulsive sobs shaking her frame, cry
ing out—
" George! George! come back tome!
Come back to me!”
But the words fell ail unheeded on tho
evening breeze, he heard them not, nor
answered.
Ere long her wild grief had spent it-
CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 1887.
self, and she rose up with a prayer on her
lips, that she might be fenAbled to do her
duty bravely, and hot let her heart’s
agony hinder her from performing her
daily tasks, cheerfully, readily, remem
bering that He who had laid this trial
upon her would also help her bear it.
All through the. sweet spring time and
the glorious summer Mrs. Shipton lay on
her bed of pain. The doctors were right
in saying that in all probability six
months would elapse before she would
regain the use of her stricken side, if she
did at nil. The greater part of Anna's
♦bne was taken up with her mother, who
was very fretful and impatient, continu
ally .grumbling at her hard lot.
The winter snows were on the ground
before Mrs. Shipton was able to leave her
bed, and then she had not quite recovered
the use of her limbs.
When the sweet spring flowers once
more opened their eyes again, after their
long winter sleep, Mrs. Shipton had left
her bed. And though she would never
be the woman she once had been, she was
yet infinitely thankful at once more being
able to potter about her little cottage and
employ herself as of yore. The words she
haa 6o often said of George Harwood had
come true. He had "taken-up” with
Fannie Spring. So the marriage might
be looked forward to any day. Anna
knew this and bore it bravely—bravely,
outwardly; but alone, in the solitude of
her chamber, the anguish of her heart
was unloosened and in tearless agony,
kneeling by her bed, she would entreat.
God to help her to bear w hat was before
her, seeing the man she loved wedded to
another girl.
One night whert Anna was returning
from the little shop, whither she had been
to make a few' frugal purchases for their
little household, she met her old lover,
arm in arm with his new love. A flush
came into her pale face, and her heart
took quicker pulsation as she passed
them.
Fannie nodded a gay "Good night,
Anna!” but her companion never spoke,
and she did not look at him. Hence
forth he must be nothing to her; he who
was still so dear—so dear.
Fannie Spring was frequently in the
habit of running down to the Shipton's
cottage; but, to her credit, she never
once mentioned her lover’s name to the
girl w hom she had supplanted. She was
a gay, volatile young creature, w ilful as
gay, and completely ruled her aged father,
who almost idolized her.
Anna always welcomed the motherless
girl kindly. Perhaps she v.*ns not so
thoughtful of her father’s comfort as she
might have been: but then she never had
anybody to teach her what was right and
dutiful, thefore every excuse was due to
her.
There arc some natures to whom duty's
dictates come naturally, but with Fannie
Spring it was not so; self was the chief est
with her. But her manner was so
bright and winning that it hid a good
many of her faults; and love's eyes are, as
we all know, proverbially blind.
This was the girl George Harwood now
intended to marry.
"What use was it having a nice snug
cottage dow n at Sutton, if there wasn’t a
w*ife in it?” he had been heard to say;
but that defect was soon now to be reme
died, for Fannie Spring was known to
have bought her wedding dress, so the
wadding must be close at hand.
One night a little girl came to the Ship
ton’s cottage with a message to Anna
from old Matthew* Spring,begging her to
come and see Fannie, who was "rarely
on it.” Anna set out at once, and found
the latter with flushed cheeks and wild
ly-gleaming eyes, in the first stages of
fever.
"She had not been well for a day or
two,” her father said,"but that night she
seemed a sight worse, talked such gib
berish he couldn’t think what ailed the
lass.”
For three whole weeks Anna stayed
with the fever stricken girl, nursing her
night and day with all asister’t affection
ate care. In vain. Nothing could bring
back the strength which the fever had
taken. Nothing would bring the hue of
health to the sunken cheeks. She was
fading away as surely as the summer
flowers when the autumn winds shake
the frail petals to the ground.
It was a cloudy April night when the
spirit foresook its tenement of clay and
soared upwards. Anna, seeing the end
was near, went down to the kitchen to
tell the poor father that his petted child’s
last hour had come, and to help him
upstairs to take a last farewell. She
found George Harwood seated w ith him.
This was the first time she had been
in his company since that April night a
year ago, for though the knew every day
he c ame to inquire after Fannie, she had
never came across him at those times.
"You will come upstairs, too, will you
not?” she said to him; "she is quite
sensible, and has been asking for you.”
When they reached the dying girl’s
room the father fell on his knees beside
the bed sobbing out:
"Mybonnio bairn! my bonnic bairn’!'*
George Harwood was more composed as
be tenderly bore the jx>or father up, and
bade him "not take on so, as it would
worrit.” But she was beyond all that
now, already the once bright eyes were
dim with the mists of eternity, the gay
voice low us the faintest echo. ‘ ‘George!”
and though his name was uttered scarcely
above a whisper, he, to whom she spoke,
heard it and went over the bed anxiously.
"Fannie!” and when her dim eyes
rested on the one wlm had nursed her so
untiringly for three long weeks, night and
day, she murmured: "so good!—happy
when lam gone.” She never spoke
again, gradually the lids drooped over
tiie once bright eye s gradually the breath
ing grew slower and yet more slow, until
it erased altogether; Fannie Spring was
dead.
Once more the scent of summer flow
ers tills the nir, the haymakers are busy in
the fields turning over the new-mown
grass, the bf/dt are tinging # heir sweetest
songs.
Two figures arc coming tip the narrow I
slope ieading from the seashore to the j
land, on whom the setting sun shines
lovingly.
"Why should wo wait, darling,” he
says. "Your mother is well again no‘W ?
and poor Fannie has been dead throe
months? Oh, Anna, if I had married her
I should have been over after a most un
happy man, considering that I loved you
best all the time. She knew this. I told
her so; but she was willing to have me.
‘I should forget you in time,’ she used to
say. But t knew well enough she was
not the one who would help me to do it.
Will you forgive me, Anna, for all the
hard words I said to you that April night?
I see now, darling, how good and brave
you are, putting all thoughts of self from
you altogether, and nobly doing your
duty. You have taught me a lesson, dear,
which I shall endeavor to live out to my
life’s end—that to do to-day’s duty well
is the best preparation for doing to
morrow’s well also.”
incidents at Fredericksburg*
Concerning incidents of the battle of
Fredericksburg, Private Smith of the
Second Wisconsin thus writes: A round
shot ripped open a soldier’s knapsack and
distributed his clothing and cards. But
the boys could not forego their little joke;
so when that column of cards was thrown
some twenty feet in the air, on all sides
could be heard the cry: "Oh, deal me a
hand!” Other shots in that battle did
queer work. Our brigade came to a halt
upon the river bank for a few moments
before going into position. We had been
paid off that day, and the gamble!* began
to play at cards the moment we halted.
A man who was about to * ‘straddle” a
"50-ccnfc blind” had his knapsack
knocked from under him by a solid shot,
and he "straddled” half a dozen soldiers
who were covered with a cart-load of
dirt. Another shot struck a paymaster's
tent. The struggle between that paymas
ter and the stragglers for possession of
the flying greenbacks was both exciting
and ridiculous. During a moment’s halt,
behind a slight rise of ground, we lay
down. A soldier facing to the rear was
conversing with a comrade. Suddenly
he made a terrific leap in the air, and
from the spot of ground on which he had
been sitting a solid shot scooped a wheel
barrow load of dirt. It was a clear case
of premonition, for the man could give
no reason for having jumped. On the
evening of December 14 our regiment
was on picket duty. We had not been
in picket line more than twenty minutes
before we made a bargain with the
"Rebs” and the firing ceased, and neither
they nor ourselves pretended to keep
under cover. But, at daylight, the
Twenty-fourth Michigan came to relieve
us. Before they were fairly in line they
opened fire upon the Confederate without
the warning we had agreed to give We
yelled lustily, but the rattle of musketry
drowned the sound, and many a confiding
enemy was hit. This irritated the Con
federates, who opened a savage fire, and
it was with difficulty a general engage
ment was prevented. All that day, until
about 4 o’clock, the picket firing was in
tense, but was abruptly ended by a Con
federate challenging a Sixth Wisconsin
man to a fist encounter in the middle of
the turnpike. The combatants got the
attention of both picket lines, who de
clared the fight a "draw.” They ended
the matter with a coffee and tobacco
trade, and an agreement to do no more
firing at picket lines unless an advance
was ordered.— Century .
What Becomes of Beer's Horns!
Mr. A. S. Fuller, the well-known au
thor, writes in the American Agriculturist:
"What becomes of deer horns? is often
asked of persons residing in regions
where deer are plentiful, but it is rarely
satisfactorily answered. That the horns
are shed annually, there arc no reasons
for doubting, for it is a well established
fact; but that the horns are rarely found
is also quite as true, as stated by Mr.
Yoder in the American Agriculturist for
February. I well remember looking for
shed deer horns, many years in the
woods of Wisconsin, and during one of
these rambles, extending over only a few
hours, I saw fifty-seven very lively deer,
some with very handsome antlers, but
failed to find a vestige of an old horn.
Upon inquiring of old hunters, who were
supposed to know all about the habits of
deer, I was informed that when a buck
dropped a horn he immediately dug a
hole in the ground and buried it out of
sight. Upon further investigation, how
ever, I was unable to find a person who
ever saw a deer performing the operation,
or one who ever found a horn that had
been buried by its owner or any other
similar animal. But in late years I have
had several opportunities to learn where
some of the naturally shed deer horns go
to, if not all of them. The deer shed
their horns in spring, and they no sooner
fall to the ground than the wood mice
attack them, and they disappear before
the teeth of these little rodents so quick
ly that a few weeks are sufiieient to ol**
literate every vestige of the noblest pair
of antlers. Even the squirrels like to gnaw
the deer horns and fresh bones of various
kinds, and it is this natural or depraved
taste that make ourcommonred squirrels
rob birds’ nests when the young are near
ly full grown ; for so far as I have ob
served, they devour the feet and legs of
the birds only. I have frequently made
them drop the young biros they were
slowly torturing, and nave always found
that they were eating the feet and legs,
perhaps because these parts had a nutty
flavor.”
In the Autograph Album.
A few days before his death. Mr.
Beecher was asked by one of his nieces
to write in her autograph album. He
penned the following lines:
“To Mother Earth:
“Give your greanent mound, and vour
fairest flowers, to your dearest lover.”
A SOUTHERN GAME PARK.
i
A HUNTING- PRESERVE OP 4,500
ACRES IN LOUISIANA.
Turning a Plantation Into a Shoot
ing Place After the English Stylo
—A Rich Man’s Idea.
A New Orleans letter to tlio New York
Bun says: Mr. John A. Morris of New
Orleans and New York, is seeking to
create in this State a shooting park,
preserves attached, such as are to be found
by the hundred in Great Britain, but
which are altogether new here; and, in
carrying out this idea, which he has had
for more than three years, Mr. Morris has
worked earnestly and systematically.
Louisiana, once an oxellcnt State for game,
has become an almost worthless field for
the sportsman. There is some shooting
of ducks and snipes in the swamps, but
with this exception the native gamo has
either been killed off or frightened away
by the negro hunters and their guns. Mr.
Morris, who is a great friend of sport,
finding that there waß no chance for it
hero, set to work to create a game park
for himself and his friends.
He was fortunate in possessing in the
Ilcnnen place an admirable location for
such a park. This place, some 4,500
acres in extent, is fifty miles or so above 1
New Orleans, on the Illinois Central Rail
road. The country there is varied and
beautiful, rolling in gentle slopes, well
covered with grass, with here and there
streams intersecting it, their borders j
fringed with oaks and magnolias. There j
is an agreeable mingling of fields, thickets, i
and groves, and more variety in tho !
scenery than is to he found anywhere eke
in Louisiana. !h the centre of tho place
stands the old Hennen mansion, nearly a
century old, one of those comfortable,
old-fashioned plantation houses, to be
found only in the South, with large, airy
rooms, and open fireplaces big enongh
for the largest yule logs. The house is
surrounded by flic broad verandas pe
culiar to the Southern residence of former
days. There is everything near to make
life comfortable; orchards of all varieties
of fruit, hot houses, etc.
It is the game preserves and park,
however, that are the distinctive feature
of the piano. The work of transforming
this old plantation into a shooting pari;
has been about completed, and bv thi
fall it will resound with the echoes of
shotguns. There was some game on the
place originally—mainly deer, quails,
doves, and native rabbits—but not enough
to afford much sport. Mr. Morris’s work
has been to supplement this by importing
game from England and from other parts
of this country. The first importations
were of pheasants, tho favorite bird for
shooting in Great Britain. Some of these
handsome birds were brought here more
than three years ago, and Mr. Morris has
continued importing them until there is
now a large number in the park. Other
importations from England wrre of park
deer, the objectionable burrowing rabbit,
about which such a row was raised;
English partridges, and hare. A pro
fessional game breeder came over with
them, who saw to their location in their
new home. The birds suffered severely |
on shipboard, and many died; hut since
they have been in their new home they
have thriven, become completely accli
mated, and are breeding rapidly. The
rabbits in particular have made them
selves thoroughly at home here. It is
strange that while the English birds did
so well an attempt to establish prairie
chickens, which are quite abundant in
western Louisiana, proved a failure. Tho
chickens are dying. Mr. Morris is also 1
seeking to raise wild turkeys, once abund
ant in Tangipahore, but lately destroyed
by the hunters by setting the tame
birds on wild turkey eggs, and he has
several large broods of this fine game
bird which will be turned loose on the
estate as 6oon as they arc large enough. It
will be seen, therefore, that as far ns
game goes the park affords an excellent ;
variety, that will furnish shooting all the
year round, including deer, hare, and !
rabbit, both native and foreign, squirrels, j
wild turkey, wild duck, pheasants, part
ridges, quails, doves, and such other -
smaller birds as arc nativo to this dis
trict.
The greatest care is taken to protect the !
game from its enemies, and to keep it
within the park and to provide it with an
abundance of food. The entire park is
surrounded by a wire fence, so high as to '
keep even most of tho birds within it,
and they are so well provided with food
that it is hoped they will be satisfied with
home, and never incline to roam.
The preserves proper aro each four
acres in extent, suiTOunded by high board
fences. Into these the birds with clipped
wings are placed, and remain for a year,
being allowed to breed.
It has been no easy matter to assure to
the birds a sufficiency of food and water.
Although there arc a number of streams
running through the place, Mr. Morris
deemed it prudent to provide an extra
supply of water for the game in the
event of a drought, and accordingly
bored a number of artesian wells. Theso
were not wholly successful, and he has
liccn compelled to resort to windmills and
pumps. Artificial lakes have been created,
along tho borders of one of which rice
has been planted in order to attract wild
ducks. The result has been thoroughly
satisfactory, the lake affording nn abun
dance of mallard and teal this winter.
The provisions for food seem almost
extravagant. Tho Hennen place was for
merly a valuable plantation, some 150
negroes being employed on it. It is not
to 1» cultivated to-day, hut 300 acres are
under crop wholly and solely for the
game, in corn, millet, buckwheat, peas,
and such other grain as birds, rabbits,
and deer like. The Innd is ploughed and
planted, and the crop cultivated like any
other; hut it is not to be harvested, and
the game animals are to he the only reap
ers. For the rabbits and pheasants sev
eral acres h-jf V'U planted in peanuts,
Terms. $1.5(1 per Aiumi Single Copy 5 cents.
REMEMBERED BELLS.
Chime, chime, O mellow belli, to ring
The roundelays of timet
Bring bock to me tha budding spring;
Now, with her swelling blossom*, bring
(Fond, fond the pealing chlmel)
That; full, keen voice, that heart* which
poured
Each fiery, melting, kindling word
By which ray life a bliss became
And upward rose in flame!
Bring back the rocking rose, the tender green,
The morning passion and the morning sheen.
The early grace, tho happy mystery,
Tho eager rapture, by a look set free,
O’erjoyed that joy to share,
Which filled tho breathing air.
Lost Youth! Lost Love! O faithful Memory,
Thine shall the chimes forever, ever bel
Thine till the dream, the spell, the magie
hour,
The potency that sleeps within the flower.
A maiden breast, with timid rise and fall,
Still yields, and at that tone confesses all.
Time irks no more; I set my heart toward
thee—
Bing! hollow bolls; ring! bolls of memory.
— D. 11. JR. Qoodale, in Independent.
HUMOR OF THE HAY.
A tussle with a boarding-house steak
is now called a "bull-fight.”— Houston
Vent.
The author who wrote "There if
beauty in extreme old age,” probably
never tackled an over-nursed egg.—Mer
chant Traveler.
Little Scholar—Why is "man” called a
noun ? Elderly Schoolmistress (with
acidity)—Because its the name of a thing.
—New York Sun.
Why is a watch-dog larger at night
than he is in tho morning ? Because h<
is let out at night and taken in in the
morning.— Sift ings.
A man has hard work to make his
wife believe that he doesn’t own the
farth when she gets him into a bonnet
•tore.— Fall Ilivcr Advance.
Break, break, break.
On thy cold gray stones, O sea,
Broke, broke, broke,
Is the song that you sing to me.
Louisville Journal.
Johnson—By Jove, Jackson, that baby
looks the very picture of your father.
Jackson—Well, when that baby has a set
Df false teeth, a red beard and the rheum
atism, I’ll believe you. In the meantime,
excuse me.— Lowell Citizen.
The deacon’s wife wanted to jot down
the text, and leaning over to her scape
grace nephew, she whispered: "Have
s*oll any cards about you ?” "You can’t
play in church,” was the solemn, reprov
mg answer, and the good woman was so
lustratcd that she forgot her text.—Cat
iaraugus Republican.
A new baby had arrived at little John
ny’s residence, and the youngster was.ad
mitted to take his first look at the little
stranger. He surveyed it calmly for a
moment, and then looking up exclaimed
enthusiastically: His face is just the
nolor of Uncle George’s. Gosh, but he
must be a hard drinker.— lHttsburg Dis
patch.
A Creole D!»h.
No cook in the world, says a New
Orleans letter, excels tho old French
negro cook, who is by the way, an auto
crat in her department; no one but she
can make, as ought to be made, that
Creole dish par excellence, the gumbo, in
all its varieties. "This dainty dish to set
before the king,” the inspiration of some
Creole epicure of the past, deserves a
wider gastronomic reputation than it now
has, "Mark Antony would have bar
tered a province to have gained a repast
of gumbo file for Cleopatra,” an enthusi
astic gourmet once said, "for did he not
bestow a whole municipium on a cook
who pleased this lady with a far inferior
dish?” "A dish worthy of Lucullus and
Apicius” heads a receipt for this most
toothsome compound. It is a thick soup
whose basis is chicken and beef broth,
afterward tilled in with oysters, a touch
of file added and then served with rice.
Ah. but the way it is cooked. Therein
! lies the secret of its perfection. The file
I is a fine powder made from the dried
! leaves of the red sassafras, and its use
was taugh to the early Creoles by the In
i diaus. The Indian squaws still have a
[ monopoly of the trade in file, which they
! bring in large baskets of their own make
j to Lie French market, where they squat
on the flagged pavement and sell file by
I ladlefuls to costumers. Crab gumbo is
another of the many varieties of the ex
> cellcnt dish.
A Scene at Sedan.
At Sedan there was a truce before the
final surrender. General Wimpffen, who
| was in command of the French troops,
j wanted favorable terms; but, like Gen
enil Grant at Fort Donelsou, the Germans
insisted upon an unconditional surrender.
"Then we will resame the battle,” was
i the reply.
"Very good, sir,” said Yon Molkc. qui
! efcly. “We liavc 240,000 men, you about
j 80,000, and 500 cannon an* in position to
i open on jour lines.”
De Wimpffen hesitated a few moments,
' and decided to surrender.
"Is it the sword of France,” said Von
• Moltkc, or of Napolcou 111-, which you
1 ore delivering up?”
"The sword of the Emperor, sir” was
i the answer.— Ban Francisco Call.
> Here, i*i try opinion, lies one of the
[ greatest seer ts of practical godliness,
and the hi: h”,t at tain moot in close
j walking With Oo.l—to come daily and
wa li, nn l \ t keep as great a value
for this ditc-v of forgiveness, r.t if it
were once oa v oh.aimed and no more. •*
[Tlioma* H dyburrm (*t>out 109^).