THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER
VOL. 111. NO. 20
7— ~ ——■—a
THE
Charlotte Messenger
18 PUBLISHED
E'l'ri Saturday,
AT
CHARLOTTE, N. C.
In the Interests of the Colored People
of the Country.
AMoaiil well known writers will contrib
uto to its columns from different parts of the
country, and it will contain the latest. Gen
oral News of the clay.
Ti*e Messenger is a first*class newspaper
and will not allow jiorsonal abuse In its col
un t It i<mot sretarian or partisan, but
independents- dealing fairly by nil. It
serves t no tto criticise the shortcomingt
of all public the
worthy, and recommending for election such
men n» *: its opinion arc; best suited to scn*e
the int.rests of the ]<y»ple.
It is frit«E<lo«! to Supply the long felt need
, ® n r , 'V S^’>, r’ < : ’ tr advocate the rights and
ctoleca iho intei' »ts of the Negro-American,
especially »n » iie Jirdmont section of the
Cftrr^iU't.
SUBSCRIPTIONS:
{Always in Advance.)
year #1 .Vi
months - -1 00
*> men Hr- ... 75
I months - - .V)
II months - - - 40
A ddrers,
W, C. SafISTH, Charlotte, N. C
There is a for smugglers in the
trick ust played by some Prussians,who
wrapped SI,OOO worth of lace around a
strong ten months’ heifer, and tied a
false skin over the whole so successfully
as to defy detection. They passed the
he fer very easily at the customs office,
the excise commissioners admiring her
si e opd beauty, and some of them offer*
ingijcr feed.
The Per. A. L. IBllman, of Atlanta,
owns :t farm in Taliaferro County,Georgia,
on which is a big alum rock. He decided
to d g a well beside the rock in ho|:cs of
getting an alum spring. A shaft twelv<
feet deep was sunk, and then a niche
was cut in the rock that water might col
lect the e. The hole, or well, or shall
ha:* now developed remarkable curative
powers. It has cured several persons
who suffer: d from rheumatism, and ah
they did mss to go down in the hole. Mr
Hillman thinks it is full of ele tricity ,
others think tbs alum does the business.
Alum is i-o ttroig in the shaft that it i>
fa6ted with every breath inhaled.
A carpet merchant in Vienna has a cu
rious collection of ancient woolen and
linen cY ths, including more than three
hundred specimens. Many of them have
been taken from tombs and are stretched
on folios of cardboard to preserve them.
Some of the iragments are only a foot
square, but the larger ones make up an
entire i oman toga, which is *aid to be
the only one in the world. There are a 1
great many embroidered dresses and a
deal of knitting and crewel work.
Loublc chain stitch cems to have been
as familiar to the Egyptian seamstr sses,
sewing with bone needles, as it is to
modern women. There are some very
quaint and unusual designs in the old
collection of cloths, but there are also
some very common things. It is curious
to fi::d that the common blue check pat
tern of our dusters and work house aprons
was in gene al u e anoeg the Egyytians
more than a thousand years ago.
. It is stated by Fran'- Leslie'* that “the
Crowded quarter of New York city, of
which a r >t Broadway and Hester, Lud
iow, Bast r, Mu berry. Bayard, Mott,
Division, Es e<, Chrystic. Elizabeth and
Cherry streets arc the m in arteries, h
picturesque, but undeniably dirty. Itis
the region of swarming tenement-houses,
lidewalk bootln and stands, and cellar
grocery stores where unwholesome food
md decaying vegetables are the staple
1 tides of trade. The population con
;ists chiefly of Hebrews, Bohemians,
Poles l uagarians. Germans. Italians, j
Irish and Chinese, and is, as a whole,
Doth poverty-stricken and filthy in its
nodes of life. In these breeding places
M u, ease, unusual vigilance i* required
an the pa tof the Board of Health In
tp tors, particularly during the summer
ir.d autumn, when fruits and vegetables
»r<* : b ndant, and fish and meat will not
• keep.” All the refus j provisions and
ov< r-ripe or unripe fruit of the city seem
to gr vitnt'j towards the s e district*,
wher the poor people swarm about the
markets or vender* 1 wagons to get bar*
Min-—l iking no matter what, so long
as it is plentiful and cheap. The In
spectors have to make wholesale aeizures
here, carrying off wagon-lea la of villain
ous trash at each raid. Os course th?
dealers land in mortal terror of these 1
officials, ao l many of them have their
malodorous stock in-trade ready to be
bole 1 up or bundled into a dark ccllarat
a moment « warning. Hotten tomatoes
and bad c. gs b ing plentiful and cheap,
they are not inf cqently employed as
missiles when the dealers venture upon
war with th« guardians of the city’s =
health.”
J NO TIME FOR HATING.
LoZ r ~~ hb feud! away with strife!
Our human hrnrte unmating;
Let us be friends ugain! This life
Is all to short for bating!
So dull the day, so dim the way.
So rough the road we’re faring—
Far better wend, with faithful friend,
Than stalk alone, uncaring!
The barren fig, the withered vine,
Are types of selfish living:
But souls that give, like thine and mine
Renew tbeir life by giving.
While cypress waves o’er early graves,
On all the way wo re going.
Far better plant where seed is scant,
Than tread on fruit that's growing.
Away with scorn! Since die we must—
And rest on one low pillow;
There are no rivals in the dust—
No foes beneai h the willow.
So dry the bowers, so few the flowers,
Our earthly way disposes,
Far better ttoop, where daisies droop,
Than tramp o'er broken roso3!
WHAT THE TIDE DID.
Jessie Burke, the heroine of my story,
sat, on this warm summer afternoon, In
a am ill, plainly furni hed room, in the
dwelling house of oid tap'n Benson,
the keeper of “Shining Light.”.
Ihe hou c was attached to the light
house tower, and the whole structure
was situated on a sandy belt of land,
projecting out into one" of our well
known harbors on the Atlantic coast.
Jessie was sewing, aud occasionally : he
wou d glance up from her work, aud
look out of the small window and aero s
the shining water; at t,.esc times she
would sigh ns her eyes s anned the fat
horizon, and as she turned back to het
sewing, ate r would fall upon her work.
She was a small, sight figure, with
clear cut features, dark b own eyes, and
sott golden hair; a tho.o gh lady, in her
plain calico gown, and looking out of
place in the grim old light house and
uncongenial surroun t.ngs.
Jessie wars cut of place—and to explain
how she hap ened to be there. I must go
back a year, to the time when Jessie
Btlrke, as hanpy and fortunate a young
lady as we often see, lived with her par
ents and youn er broiliers and sisters ir
a la ge Eastern city of these United
Btot .a
Mr. Burke was apparently a well-to
do and highly -respected ' gentleman,
blessed with a lo ing wife ana a fa.i.ilv
of fine looking, happy children; for be
side Jessie, who was then twenty, there
were fifteen-year-old Margie, Kobert, and
Justin, respocti. ely eight, and six, and
lastly “Baby Hue.”
But alas for the short lived prosperity
of our happy family! That fatal bubb.e
of stocks which to many of our citizens
have cause to remember in the summer of
Id—, and whicu when it broke reduced
so many hundreds of men from afhuence
to poveriy, fell heavily—how heavily
only he himself knew—on our good
friend. Mr. Burke. Subject as he had
a ways been to heart disease, ho was un
able to survive this last shock, and died
one August morning about a week after
his misfortune, leaving his sorrowing,
and poverty-stricken family dependent
upou their own resouices. Deeply as
this combined catastrophe affected airs.
Burke, who had naturally rather a deli
cate constitution, poor Jessie had even
more to bear than her moth r, for beside
her keen and despairing grief at pu.t ng
from her father, with whom she had at
ways been the favor.ic ch Id, she had the
anguish of another, even harder parting
to endure—a parting which at any time,
had she known it as she did now. to be
forever, would have broken her heart,
but which now, with h r other trou des,
wa almost too much for her slender
strngih. i-'or Jo-sie had for the
pat 6ix mont .s been engaged to a
young gentleman of fine physical end
intellect ,al qualities, aud to whom she
was devotedly attached.
I eginald Turner was not wealthy, but
be ides his health, cnorgy and good busi
ness prospects, he was th herr of a rich
o'.d 1 ncl-, who had educated him and
by whose aid lie had reached his present
position; so, w th such a bright future
before him, his engagement to Jessie had
not promised to be a long one. licgi
r.ald was absent on a business trip at the
time Mr. Burke s failure o currcd, and
much as she loved him. und on that very
account, perhaps, Jessie’s resolution of
immediately releasing him fr m his en
gagement was soon taken; and more
than that she intended 10 hid - from hint
so effectually that tic should not be able
to get the fiilnte t clue to her where
abouts, for she knew that trie brave ami
generous fellow would not rest until he
Bad found them, anil that he would In
sist thut they sho id be married immedi
ately, and also taka upon himself the
support of her helpless family. -‘Wo
mu-tnotbe a drag upon him mother,”
she sa d. “He i« yo .ng, aod—and will
aoon forget me,” she added with an ef
fort. So in pursuance of a plan she had
formed at her father's death, sue began
to make preparations for the removal of
the family to the >m ill seaside town in
who h her father hud lived as a boy.
Mr«. l urke s health Wiutoo poor to al
low her to be of much i-.-.p at this junc
ture, and it was by an almost supei human
energy an I strength that Jessie arranged
the whole journey, engaged a smalt cot
tage at Sea V lew. ai d >u. oru,tended the
removal of the family thither, with the
few aril let whiih they had kept from
their o.d b me, before the lint • f the
following 1 eptemher end beioie her
lover had retur ed from h s journey.
It was p irt of essie'a plan to eave no
trace or . ltie b-h.n l he n ns to where
they had gone, an i this was d no the
mom easily, ns mot 01 the him lie. with
whl e the l.n.kes w. re intimaie were out
•f town st the time of Mr. Burke's fail
ore and death.
CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1886.
The Burkes themselves had Wen pre
vented from going to the country early
in June, on account of the illness of
“Baby Rue,” and after her recovery they
had put off thi-ir trip until buaineas af
fairs should allow Mr. Burke to accom
pany them.
flow, alas I they were going to the
country, but under what altered circum
stances, and without the father for
whom they had waited!
A small, very small, income bad been
left to Mrs. Burke alter the settlement of
her husband’s property, and with this,
and Jessie's earnings as a dressmaker in
their small village,"they were able to live
on quietly for a year when something oc
curred which again changed the current
of their lives.
Over in the lighthouse pretty Mollie,
the daughter of the old Cap’n and his
wife Martha, was going to the married,
and she had sent for Jessie, who was a
great favorite with the country belles, to
come for four days and help her make
her wedding outfit.
“I hate to leave you mother,” Jessie
had said, “and particularly at this time,”
for it was near the sad anniversary of
her father's death. But unselfish Mrs.
Burke had replied that Jessie was to go
by all means, for it would be a change
for her, and besides it would be a pity
to disappoint Molly Benson.
So Jessie went, and it is on the after
noon of her second day at 1 ‘Shining
Light” that we saw her in the beginning
of our story, sitting by the window and
dropping stray tears on Molly’s brown
merino.
Leaving her there, we will return to
Reginald, who, when he came back from
his Sap, a year ago, had gone straight to
his rooms, and finding two letters on his
table, hid carelessly taken up the upper
one and found it to be an announcement
of his uncle's death and a copy of his
will leaving him sioo.ooo. Mingled
with his grief at the death of bis kind
benefactor, who had educated him. was
t feeling of freedom and the thought
■ame that now he could marry Jessie;
ind takmgup his hat he was about to
»cck her and confide to her his g ief and
good fortune, when his eye fell upon the
other letter, which he bad not noticed
until now. Opening it he found it to be
from Jessie,telling him the circumstances
of her father’s death, and of their pov
erty. and finally bidding him “good-bye”
for over.
Since that day. Reginald had been
continually searching lor his lost love,
but ayi ar had p issed and he was no
wiser concerning her; and at length, al
most despairing he had started in his
yacht, with only his skipper for com
oany, for a cruise along the shores of
Maine and Massachusetts. They had
been out some days, and tho vessel was
drifting a J ng near a sandy belt of land,
in a little Massacnusetts harbor. It was
almost a calm, and oa the water lay
great flocks of sea-gulls, which rose and
now away in ev-ry direction as the yacht
app cached, filling the air with the flut
tering of wings, and their little hoarse
cries. At the end of the belt of land,
along which they were sailing, was a
lighthouse, and they were rapidly ap
proaching this point, when Reginald was
aroused from his reverie by an exclama
tion from the skipper, who was unac
customed to this locality, and had care
lessly allowed the vessel to drift upon a
sand-bar, near the main strip of land.
N'o damage was done, but as the tide was
rapidly receding, the further progress
>t the yacht was stayed,until such a time
in the night as the tide should be sutti
riently high to allow the vessel to float
>ff.
Being in this predicament, Reginald I
decided to wade to the shore and go up
to the lighthouse in search of alven
urcs. So leaving the skipper in charge
if the vessel Reginald started for tue
shove, promising to return within an
hour or two; and if he did not keep his
promise he surely is not to be blamed,
.’eginald had not got far in his ascent
if the sandy bill, which separated him
from the lighthouse, when he encount
ered an elderly man. who, -eated upon
the s md, was engaged in mending a net.
He explained his presence there and re
1, it;d liis accident to the man, who he
ascertained was the light-keeper, and
who pressed him cotdi illy to come up
1 and take supper with him, saying: “The
aid woman’ll be glad 'uough ter see ye,
lur strangers is few an' far between at
the light ; and she won’t be a bit put out
st yer stayin’ ter supper, nuthcr, for shes
j got a lot of stuff corked up a purpose fur
I comp’ny, fur our darter Molly's goin’ ter
] lie married, an’ the dressmaker’s over
| from the village a helpin’ of her sew.”
Hoping for amusement and really
■ pleased with the old man’s cordial hos- .
l pitality, Reginald followed him up ;
I toward the lighthouse, listening to !
Cap ii f’en9oD (for of course it was be) as |
he toid of Molly and Mo ly’s man, who j
he said was “as 1 kely a young chap at I j
care ter see, and be and Jiin (my son, j
Jnm owns a schooner, the Molly Benson, :
and they're up ter the Banks now fisbin', !
but coinin’home soon fur the weddin’,"
he concluded contentedly, as they arrived
it the kitchen door, who e Reginald was
warmly welcomed by “Mother,” who
brought out freah doughnuts and sweet
cider for h s entertainment. Bhcrtly
j »fter Mrs. Ben-on entered the upper
j room, wheie essie and Molly, who had
o ned her, were sewing busily. ‘ Come.
I gal ,” she rried, “put up your work, lur
I want yer ter co nc an’ he p me with the
| supper. Molly, fur we want ter kind o' !
fix up fur the young gent, yer know; and 1
yo i, turning to essie, “had better run
cut on the beach an take a breath of
fe h air; you look so kind o' pie an' .
| tired. jfer needn’t be afraid o' mce In'
mn.’’ she add id, not! ing easic’s re
in tnnee—for sho had a morbid dislike to j
meeting strangeia ever since their mis
fortune—"fur Pa tuck the young mm (
ever t'other side ler get clams >0 you just 1
run out, ,M iss Burke an' yer ran hcv yer '
sumv r up here quiet, if yer ruther.” i ;
Thanking her gratefully, Jeasie want
nut into the soft warm air, and sitting
down on a great rock, looked over the
water to the tillage where her mother
and the children were. And as she sat
there thinking, she did Aot notice how
fast tiie sun was disappearing below the
water.
In the meantime Reginald had come
back from the clam digging and was
sauntering slowly down the beach; he
turned a comer suddenly and came upon
a great rock with a girl s tting on it, her
head silhouetted against tho rtjjl glow of
the setting sun.
For one moment hri heart seemed to
Btop beating. He had found her at last,
after this weary year of vain search and
trial. Bhe' djd not see him yet, and com
ing up close beside her he said softly:
“Jessie!”
She turned qulck’y, her face as white
ns death, and in another moment she was
in his arms. “Oh, how could you leave
me so cruelly, darling, without any bint
or clue? You mn-t havo known I could
not live without you, lo e!”
“I—l thought it was best, then,” she
whispered softly, her head on his
shoulder; and ns they stood there with
the Incoming tide rippliDg softly at theii
feet, the departing sun sent its lost ray
across the water, and above them, bright
and gleaming, burst forth the Cap’u’a
light.
Thanksgiving Dinner in 1683.
Thanksgiving meant much in the early
time of New England, when the very
life of the colony might depend upon a
shower of rain. Cn all the coast oi New
England there is pretty sure to be a
period of drouth in the su umer, and this
drouth caused the first comers extreme
apprehension.
The Eoil jras light, the .atm was horn
ing hot, ahd the di-coursged farmers
saw the earn upou which their existence
depended withering day by day. One
of the old ministers of 11)33 wrote in the
quaiot manner of .the period, and not
without a tom h of Y'aukee humor:
“The chiefest corn the people planted
before they had pi >ws was Indian grain,
whose increase is very much beyond all
other, to the great refre-hing of- the poor
servants of i hrist in their low begin
nings. Ail kinds of garden fruits grew
very well, and let no man make a jest of
pumpkins, for with this fruit tho Lord
was pleased to feed His people, to their
good content, till corn and cattle were
increased.”
lut even pumpkins will not grow
without rain. In the summer of 1633
there was a dry time so p olonged and
so alarming that the people gathered to
gether to pray for a saving shower. As
the writer already quoted records, “they
fell down on thsir knees,” and urged it
as “a chief argument that the mnl gnant
adversary Would rejoice in their destruc
tion.”
The answer promptly came: “As
they pou ed out water before the
Lord, so. nt that very in-tant, the Lord
showered dowu water on their gardens
and fields, and, as the drops from heaven
fell thicker and faster. 60 the tears from
their eyes, by reason of the sudden mix
ture of joy and sorrow.”
To crown their happiness, “whole
shiploads of mercies” arrived from be
yond the seas. In grat tude for this tor
rent of blessings, the 6cven churches of
New England appointed the Kith of Oc
tober as a Day of thanksgiving and
Praise. Thanksgiving was no mere
form. 1 ‘They took up the cup of thanks
giving, and paid their vows to the Moat
High.”— Youth's Companion.
War Elephants in Biirnudi.
Attached to he Brit'sh Indian army,
which is now in B ir.nah trying to wip«
out tbr murderous bands of dukoits til i
arc alighting the country, is an ele
phant battery. Seven-pound guns, in
cluding their c rriugos. are fastened to
framework and fa-teaed upon the buck:
of the eleph nts. In this way the tri ops
ere able to transport tbeir artillery
through long stretches of country when
there are no wngon roads, and whert
they would not be able to take their • an
non if they did not have bca-ts of bur
nen strong enough to carry the artillery
on their backs. W. on the troops meei
the enemy the gun are quickly unloaded
by means of a tripod, to which is at
tached a swinging arm and tucklc.
The elephant takes a more humblt
place in war than formerly. He used tc
be one of the combatants, but in tbest
days of gunpowder ami bombshells h<
has been reduced to the transportatiot
department. Ccnturie bis-re tilt
Christian era the rulers of Egypt main
tained stations as far south as hbartoun
for the sole purpose of collecting wile
elephants to be Rained for war purposes
They were used not only to carry arcberi
and javelin huriers into the field, but
were also trained U rush upon the euemj
and trample them under so t Vb. It
opposing wrrriors on their elephant
fought at short range the elepbanti
thorns -lie would fight each other I'
is said that the notion that tbs Asistit
elephant is superior to his Afrieat
brother dates from the time when, in I
battle be ween Antioebus 111., king o
Syria, and Pioleiny Inlopster, in 31. B
C., the Asiatic elephants in the arm)
of the Syrian mensrc killed every om
of Ptolemy!* African animals. This idc
of the superiority of the As st c ele
p aot la st II eld by many, though it i
probably groundless.
Area of Important Islands.
The table below gives the size of the
moat important islands on the gkubo -
tiq. ifiws. ay. M/lu.
Azores W*S Mi'agasear...333,3ls
Bahamas. 5,433 .i.alta Mi
Borneo fOJ.OOO Ns -V /(-aland.. 04,000
Ceylon. 2t,:uo nnd-i1cb..... 8.000
Crete 3,30 -’an Con logo. 18,000
Cube 43.38 81 lr 400
Synrus V,OUO Staten Island. ]I3
ayU 11,OK) 6a Helens ... 47
Long Island.. 1,883 Vaoeoavers... 13.000
HARVEST THANKSGIVING
C&.EBBATINO THE CLOSE OP THE
HARVEST IN GERMANY*.
Lord and Peasant—Drawing the
Festooned YVagon—The Pastor's
Blessing—Merry-making.
In Germany, writes Mary Gordr-n in
the New York Obsentr, the close of the
harvest is celebrated by tho “Ernte
dankfest,” or harvest thanksgiving. It
is not a general festival like its Ameri
| can relative. In New England ea:h
farmer is owner and master of the bit of
j land from which, by the sweat of hi
brow, he keeps the thorns and thistles,
and thus all the little proprietors may be
j United and centered like a composite
flower, and blossom ont into one general
thanks giving. But in Germany the lan<l
remains chiefly in large estates, and the
extent of these domains places the own
ers so far asunder that it would be diffi
cult to uuite them iu one common idea
Almost every castle has, nestled down
just beyond thj confines of its park, a
little village or “dorf,” where the people
live who d i the work, and help carry on
the estate of the gentleman. Loch vil
lage has its church, parsonage and
school-house, but the church affairs,
ss wall as the educational, are largely
,in the hands of the lord. Ti e leudal
idea was long since exploded in
, Germany, but wneu the explosion took
t place many pai tides of the o d system
- remained in the air, witl someth ng of
the fabulous vitality ascribed to atoms
of musk, for the atmosphere .bout these
large isoiated estates is stll charged
! with them, and they arc very perceptible
to one stepping into that air from the
! untainted, almost ineverent atmosphere
of America. Everything centres in the
j “flerr” or lord. The dwel ere in. the
little village regard the dwelio s in the
castle as a race of superior beings. Even
the clerg -man makes a humble classifica
tion of hi mad i when in the pr.sence of
this representative of a long lino of
landed prop iotors, and holds it a great
hoini, annually or s mi-anuually, to be
b ddun to leave his simple parsonage
board and sit at the caatlc feast. When
the nobl mau and his fa nily drive out,
the peasant pauses witu ba ed head while
the carriage passe: and follows it with
a look of pride at the thought that he
has served its proprietor so long that his
grandfather served his master’s grand
father, and so back through the respec
tive grandfathers of generations.
Each proprietor having many peop'e
under him—often hundreds—"arranges
the Harvest Festival as be t suits nis
convenience. It is in reality a ineiry
; making for his retinue of servants.
When tho graingdd is ready to yield up
j its last load of t easure a "large, cart is
drawn into the yard of one of the peas
ants, and the young people gather abou
it end trim it with wreaths, flowers and
leaf-festoons. To this are attached s x
or eight horses likewise decked with
garlands. The cart is taken to the field,
where the loading of it goes on more as
sport than as work. When the last
sheaf has been tossed up, a po c, sur
mounted by a gay wreath, is stuck in
the load, and the fanciful but heavy
laden vehicle rumbles and sways on its
way to the village, followed by nu ever
growing i rowd of women and children.
When the parsonage is reached the
cart stops the pa-tor comes forth with
his litiie black skull-, ap on, and q l.u-h
falls over the merri - out, whi e the good
man returns thanks for the bounty
of the harvest, and craves a l>le< ing
upon its use. Then the gay proces
sion resumes its jollity, and its line
of march toward its destination
Tho whole day, and often two, are
given up to merry making and feasting,
for which many hands have been busy
for days preparing the viand u One
evening at least is devoted to dancing.
Borne large, airy burn is selected as a
ball-room. The floor is swept, the wall-,
the hay-mows md the stalls of the cattle
arc profusely di corated w.th boughs of
the linocn and oak, relieved by hou ,urts
and garlands of bright flowers. The
girls bring forth the trea ures of their
wardrobe, and appear with bright ’ker
chiefs fastened tastefully over their
tightly braided flaxen locks, or with an
immense stiff b nek bow attached to the
back of tiie head, ns tuste or custom dio
tate. Olten a bodice is worn over a full,
light waist, and the c, w.th the bright
colored short petticoats, made of heavy
woolen stuff, add gicatly to the pktur
esquenew of the whole scene. Tuc old
village fiddler—for there seems always to
have been one in every village sioc- the
time of the Nibelungca —comes with hia
violin, and furnishes the-music-wi:h a
rapacity for endurance which could h ve
been cvol. cd only by beer and sausage.
One caunot rightly say that “the light
fantastio toe’’ grows upon such broad,
practical feet ns go jumping over the
barn floor. ' heir daily walk is ever
li e's roughest paths, and t at in v ooden
shoes: hut there is a spontaneous grace to
youth, wherever found, and the enjoy
ment of the older ones, who have grown
stiff in faithful service, sor ns not in the
least m rr. d by a s mse of tne lack of it.
Often the servants from neighboring es
tates come as guests to t' o festivities.
Tue sons ( torn the castle leave their dig
nity for once, and rte found turning the
pretty pea nnt grl in the danoe. The
ladies, who usually are present u *p cta
to s, often have a dance or two with tbs
overseer, who is almo t alweys a person
of some culture; but as he is'not noble,
to dance with him is s condescension for
these dames, who roll their family “von”
ns a sweet morsel under their tongues.
Schiller refer-.to the harvest festival in
his “Bon* of the Bell."
A naturalist has satisfied himselt
beyond a doubt that the sv rage rat
travels a d'stance of eighty milea ev- -j
night. Then it mu-t be ths other cat
that aits on the back fence several hours
e ery night, loudly complaining of the
high taxes or something-
Terms. $1.50 per Annm Single Copy 5 cents.
WAIFS OF A WORLDk
Lons ere Columbus in the breeze unfurled
His venturous sail to bunt the setting sun
Long ere he fired his first exultant gun
Where strange canoes all round his flagship*
whirled,
The unsaiiod ocean which the west wind
curled
Had borne strange waifs to Europe, one
by one, * *-•
Wood carved by Indian hands, and tree
like none
I Which men then knew, from an untro-iden
I world.
; Dh for a waif from o’er that wider sea
1 Whose margin Is the grave, in which we
think
A. gem-bepebbled continent raav be!
But all la .vain we catch upon the brink;
No waif float up from black infinity,
AVhere all who venture out-forever sink.
— 7 * ht> Academy.
HUMOR OF THE DAT.
Tbs violinist .is Always-up to his chin
x business,— judyt.
It takes a handsome young’bo ler-mak
tr to rivet himself for life.—JV. Y. Jour
nal.
Tt is very annoying to have a bald-
Shaded barber try td sell you a battle of
his hair elixir.— Puck.
A newspaper article is headed. “Earth-
Suake Loro ’ That is right, the lower
le better.— Pittsburg ChwniHe.
' - -A musical-exchange has an article on
“Silent Music.” The worst of : t i< that
there is altogether too little of tho ar
tide.—Poston Post.
Eighty-one and a quarter tons of qui
nine wero used in this country during
tho past year, yet that did not prevent
; the shake in Cnarleston.—' biflings.
“When I go to bed,” obs r-es a Bcs
! ton ed.itor; “1 always try to lie still.”
We ha.'fl no doubt of-it. He as so
much -practice during the day. —Hinc
Harm Nexus. ..,
“I've been digging for water to the
depth of fourteen or flfteei feet, '-ut I
floa t sum to get along.” ‘ Well, dig
forty or nfty feet, then yqu’ll get a long
well. ” — Katnller.
Creditor—‘Td like to know when jou
ere going to pay that little bill of mine.”
Debtor—“ See here Fm not going into
any details with you regarding my private
affairs.”— The Judge.
James Wh'tcomb Riley has written
versos to show “A'hat Poets Know.” A
great many of them d n't know when
the tide is high in the editorial scrap
basket.— Newart(N. J.) News.
D makes the clothier, who stills half
i*tten garments us all wool, as mad as a
jornet when he finds that the grocer has
palmed'cotton seed oil on him as ths
genuine olive. —Phttaietphin O.rcniele.
"It’s got to come-!” said the solemn
man. solemnly straio-nq away at the
handle of a door. “What has got to
comeexcitedly asked a dozen bystand
ers, rushing up.. “Christmas!” said the
solemn maD, solemnly, letting go tho
door handle. And the bystanders rushed
down again. —FowrrcWe Journal.
“Is any one w itihg on yon?” inquired
the polite salesman of n Wcstville maid
en. “Well, I can’t hardly tell,” she
bluebingiy replied. “Aometim 1 1 think
there is, and then again I ai i t certain,
but Will’s so sort of funny, you knov ”
snC then she blushed again and asked to
look at aomo lace collars.—Wee Riven
News. ' -
How Postage Stamps are Made.
The design of the-st-mp is engraved
on steel, and, iu pr nting, plates are tsed
on winch two hundred stamps have been
engraved. Two men are kept busy at
w -rk tovering these with colored inka
and pasß.ng them to aman and girl, wae
are cqu lly busy printing tnem on large
hand-pres es. Tnrce of these little-quads
are employed- all -1110 time. A.ter the
small sheets of paper conta.ningtwo hun
dred printed stiuips are d ied enough,
they are sent into another room and
gummed. . The gum used for this pur
pose is a peculiar composition, made of
the powder of dried potatoes and other
vegetable! miie I with w tor. Afterhav
ing bien again dried, this time on little
ra ks fanned by ste tm power tor about
an hour, they arc p it between sheets of
pasteboard and pressed in hydraulic
pres-es capable of apphiug awe ght of
two thousand tons The next thing is
to out the sheet in'two; each sheet, of
course, when cut containing one bun
dr, d stamps. This is done'by a girl,
with a largo, pair of shears, cutting by
hand being preferred to that dona by
machinery, which- would destroy too
many stumps. Next thoy are pressed
once more, snd then packed and labeled
and stowed uwty to be sent out to the
vara u* offices when ordered. If a single
stamp is torn or in any way mutilated,
the whole sheet of one hundred stawpe
is burn.d. Not lest than i:ve hundred
thousand are said to be burned every
week fiom this cause. The great st curs
is taken in counting the sheets of stamps
to guard aga nst pilfering by employee
a id it is said that 4u ing the past twenty
years not a single sheet nu bean lost is
this way. ~: ■ _
The Great Secret of Oratory.
Demosthenes wqs asked: “What it the
first requisite to s ice et» in a public speak
er!” lli< answers was not as it usually
given, action, but: - The power of mov
ing others.” lie ws« asked: "Whet is
the second requisite?” Hi answer i ts:
“The | ower of moving 1 th*r«.” Again
he wisaskel ’ Whs’ is ihe thlra re
quisite-?” Stilt bis answer wa : “Ths
power of moving others.” ctinn often
repelt others from u<. Whether in a
teacher or public speaker, th • Imrao tsl
answer nt the crestost of 1 reek orstors
will. tend as the expression of a great
tru h. th t the great secret of success it
not action, but the power of moving
[ other*.—6cW Journal.