OUR COLORED BROTHERS.
; became “convicted of sin,” and leaped
j into the swaying circle. The brethren
i gathered around her, praying, exhorting,
i and pouring wild promises in her ear.
; In the twinkling of an eye “all her sins
I were washed away.” She was so happy
; that she tried to tear her clothing off in
I the effort to go straight up to heaven,
j Some converts fell on the floor as if in a
I trance. The voice of the exhorter took
i a sterner tone, and the excitement be-
I came more intense. A calm succeeded
: Nearly all were converted, and nearly
I all were physically exhausted. As a
j finale, some happy brother struck up
I something like the following :
I’se got on de back ob de Mefodis’ mule—
Sinner don’ you stan’ dar lookin’ like a fool!
; De bridle bit am silber, de saddle hit am gold,
i An' I’m boun’ fer to go to Aberham’s fold.
An’ I’ll ride
(Yes I will),
A n’ I’ll ride right on to glory
I I’se sunk my sins in de savin’ pool,
I An' got on de back ob de Mefodis’ mule;
! An’ here I sticks lak er big black leets [leech]
Till de ole’mule stomp on de golden streets.
An’ I'll ride
,^- ^-iUY
An’ I’ll ride right oh to glory
| Oh, come from de chu’ch an’ de Sun’ny school,
An’ see me ridin’ on de Mefodis’ mule,
; Dem Baptisses ain’t got no sort o’ show,
I An’ I make dem ’Piscopal horses blow.
An’ I’ll ride
(Yes I will),
An’ I’ll ride right on to glory!
Saturday was the darkeys’ holiday.
On that day the streets of Tallahassee
were crowded with all conditions, ages
and sizes. Thrilled with the fever of
shopping, they packed the stores of the
thrifty descendants of Moses. Impromtu
business meetings were held on the
corners. Occasionally there was a but
ting match between two stalwart ne
groes, unduly excited by cheap liquor.
The political situation was discussed
with all earnestness and gravity. The
negroes spent their money for any article
for which they took a fancy, regardless
of its value or the benefit that might
accrue from it. One of them fell in love
with a large bottle of cucumber pickles,
price $1. It had some fancy emblems
on that pleased his artistic eye. He
bought it. He went out under a tree
on the edge of the public square and de
liberately sat down, uncorked the bottle,
and in. the most dignified manner ate
every pickle it contained and drank the
vinegar. It had no more effect on him
than a tumbler of whisky would on a
professional carpet-bagger, and I expect
that he is still voting “that good ole
‘publican ticket.”
Oviuetimoo two good aged colored
ladies, old-time friends, would meet un
expectedly, and the conversation would
run about like this :
With an elaborate bow : “Why, Mis’
I Williams, good mornin’, ma’am. How
is your health dis mornin’, ma’am ?”
“Right pohty, Mis’ Brown, h thank
you, ma’am. Ise got a sort o’misery in
the back, but I don’t complain much,
I thank God. How is you and Mr. Brown
I an’ de chillen, ma’am?”
“Tollable, tollable, only tollable, Mis’
Williams. Mr. Brown is jest sorter
stickin’ together, thank you, ma’am.
He has a risin’ on his hand, but he put
some anarchy on hit, an’ hit’s right
smart better now. I reckon you heerd
my da’ter ’Liza’s gwine get married ?”
“Why, now, Mis’ Brown, you ’sprise
me, ’deed you does. Who she gwine
marry, Mis’ Brown ?”
“Why, a young gemman who works
on Major Goldon’s plantation. He’s an
exhorter, too, and kin beat ’em all hol
lerin’ in prayer. I know de Lord mus’
hear him ! Good-by, ma’am. You mus’
come an’ see us.” ,
“Thank you. I feels proud to do so,
Mis’ Brown, ma’am.”
And so they separate, each to her lit
tle world.
A favorite amusement among the
negroes was to catch a rat, saturate it
with kerosene, set fire to it, and then
turn it loose where there would be no
-’ganger 6 constructive. . ^nce
saw the waiters at one of the hotels have
a large rat, a regular veteran, which
they put to the ordeal of fire. After
soaking him thoroughly in kerosene,
j they took him in the back yard, touched
a match to him, and started him on a
i run down the path. An old gray-headed
I negro was so heartily amused that he
rolled over and over in a spasm of de
light.
About 9 o’clock one beautiful moon
light night I was idly strolling along one
of the quiet back streets, when I heard
the pleasing sound of music, both vocal
and instrumental. On turning the near
est corner I saw a colored man and a
pickaninny 'sitting on the edge of the
sidewalk. The man had an old battered
banjo with only two strings, on which he
was playing, accompanied by the boy
vocally. The song detailed the troubles
of an unfortunate rabbit. It ran thus,
as near as I can remember :
De rabbit am a ciinnin’ ting,
He hide hiss'elf in de briar,
An’ he nebber know when de trouble come
Till de broom grass catch on fire !
Chorus [expression of astonishment and con
sternation on the part of the rabbit]—
Big-eyed rabbit, boo !
Big-eyed rabbit, boo !
PICTURED OF THE SUNNY SOUTH.
Scenes in Tallahassee Just After the Close
of the Rebellion as Viewed by Northern
Byes.
■When I first came South, many years
ago, says a Florida correspondent of the
New York Sun, the negroes were a con
stant source of amusement to me. Their
ways were so different from anything I
had ever seen, their actions so childlike,
and their ideas of freedom so extraordi
nary, that to me it was better than a
circus to observe them. Freedom made
a striking revolution in them socially.
They tried to drop at once all the catch
words of former familiarity, and adopted
the most extravagant and elaborate
forms of courtesy. It was “lady” and
“gentleman” and “Mr.” and “Mrs.”
among themselves. Ail the ceremonies
and genuflexions in use among the for
mer slaveholdi'j" aristocracy were home-
ster ' X L us tlilm ..
^v. -’'' /T ^^ riding through u he str-eu or
" v ' ; „ j a j aE8C0 one morning with Dr. S. B.
Conover, then State Treasurer and own
er of a fine plantation, when an incident
occurred that has never left my memory.
It had been reported that the Doctor
was looking for hands to work on his
plantation. When we got opposite the
postoffice, where a crowd was waiting
for the mail, we were hailed by an old
colored “auntie.”
“Oh, Dr. Conover! Oh, Dr. Con
over !” she shouted, “stop here a min
ute, please, sir!”
At her side was a woe-begone-looking
negro in complete raggedness. Any
respectable Western cornfield scarecrow
would have refused to exchange gar
ments with him without a heavy bonus.
The old auntie had him by the arm. As
• . we drew up she said:
“Dr. Conover, I done heerd you
wanted to git some gemman to work on
your place, an’ I done sent for dis yer
gemman to come to town, so’s you could
hire him.”
The “gemman” was all the while look
ing sheepish, and grinning to an alarm
ing extent. After a little conversation
the contract was made, and he went out
to the plantation to pick the Doctor’s
cotton.
The negroes, male and female, were
passionately fond of fine clothes and
finery of every description. They
eagerly invested all the money they
^■lUd /'om in prticlos ' F per^v^a o^-v
ment. I was tola by one of the most
fashionable milliners in the place that
the finest and costliest bonnets and hats
were purchased by the negro women.
White ladies were satisfied to dress more
in consonance with the reduced state of
their- finances, but the recently liberated
colored lady must have gorgeous head
gear, even if the rest of her person was
covered with dirty and ragged calico.
A lot of colored ladies on some street
corner discussing questions of domestic
economy or religious faith would ex
hibit a dazzling array of ribbons, laces,
feathers, and bright colors.
With them freedon meant to step at
once from the sphere of the cotton field
to the dressing room of the petted dar
lings of society and fashion. A foot ap
parently eighteen inches long would of
ten peep coyly out from beneath a flash
ing blue silk dress. With perfumery,
too, they were fascinated. Many a
dusky belle, to enhance the value of her
personal charms, would invest a hard-
earned dollar in cologne, and empty the
contents of the bottle on her head and
garments.
One beautiful Sunday morning in the
early spring, as I was riding out on a
pleasant country road, I met a colored
Adonis on his way to church. He looked
ike a piece of animated bric-a-brac. He
wore a dress suit of black, palmed off on
him by the Hebrew children as broad-
^''th. His neck was encircled with a
Cal Wagner collar and a flaming-red
scarf. A high silk hat crowned his
noble brow. But his feet were bare.
His wealth had become exhausted by
the time he got to his feet. He did not
seem to labor under the least embarrass
ment, however, and stalked along the
dusty road in barefootedness, a true
child of freedom.
The strong point of the negro has
always been his religious fervor. One
of their old-fashioned revivals is calcu
lated to fully discourage the devil and all
his imps. After the usual evening service
the pastor, redolent of fried chicken and
watermelon, descend ed from the pulpit,
and, surrounded by his staff of deacons,
all good men and true, prepared for a
pitched battle with the hosts of the evil
one. The mourners crowded the altar,
groaning and shrieking. Louder and
louder rose the singing, exhorting, and
praying. The bodies of the saints and
mourners swayed in rhythmic measure
with the music. Hands were patted as
though participating in a breakdown'
and excited feet stamped the dustyfloor. I
Suddenly, high over all the noise, ex- '
citement, and confusion, there was a!
wild yell. One of the female mourners ’
The negro very, early in freedom de
veloped a surprising enthusiasm for pat
ent medicines, especially when they
came in the shape of pills. His faith in
them bordered on the sublime. No
matter what ailed him, old-fashioned
universal “misery,” cut finger, head
ache, cramp, colic, sore toe, or any
thing else, down went half a dozen pills
or a dose of liver regulator. He was al
ways impatient of results, and preferred
cathartic medicine to any other kind;
and as most of his ills arose from too
free indulgence in sugar cane or water
melon, or else were mainly imaginary,
the pills answered all purposes.
Music of any kind was the negro’s
passion. On Saturdays, when the town
was full of country darkies, with their
wives, children, sweethearts, uncles,
cousins and aunts, let some dusky war
rior produce a drum, even if it was made
of an empty nail keg with a coon skin
stretched over the ends, take his posi
tion in the middle of the road and strike
up, and a procession was soon formed.
They^marched steady hour after hour,
with no object in vDw save to be behind
the music. As the drum rolled its stir
ring notes ' upon tlie air, men, women
and children swelled the ranks and fol
lowed where it led.
Happy hi their ore idea of freedom,
giving no thought to the morrow, trust
ing the future with a simple, childlike
faith, no happier race ever gave a more
picturesque outline io history.
Hamilton jay.
Napoleon’s Method of Questioning.
Prony, with his hair nearly in my
plate, was telling me entertaining anec
dotes of Bonaparte, and Cuvier, with his
head nearly meeting him, talking as
hard as he could, not striving to show
learning or wit—quite the contrary—
frank, open-hearted genius, delighted to
be together at home and at ease. This
was the most flattering and agreeable
thing to me that could possibly be.
Harriet was on the off side, and, every
now and then, he turned to her in the
midst of his anecdotes and made her so
completely one of us, and there was
such a prodigious noise nobody could
hear but ourselves. Both Cuvier and
Prony agreed that Bonaparte never
could bear to have any but a decided
answer. “One day,” said Cuvier, “I
nearly ruined myself by considering be
fore I answered. Heasked me: ‘Ought
we to introduce beet sugar in France ?’
‘In the first place, Sire, we must think
of the colonies.’ ^hall we have beet
sugar in France?' ‘But, Sire, we ought
to study the subject.’ ‘Bah, I will have
to ask Berthollet.’ This despotic, laconic
mode of insisting on learning everything
in two words had its inconveniencies.
One day he asked the Master of the
Woods at Fontainebleau: ‘How many
acres of wood here?’ The Master, an
honest man, stopped to recollect.
‘Bah !’ and the Under Master came for
ward and said any number that came
into his head. Bonaparte immediately
took the Mastership from the first and
gave it to the second.” “Qa’arrivait il ?”
continued Prony. The rogue who gave
the guess answer was soon fotnd cutting
down and selling quantities of the trees,
and Bonaparte had to take the ranger-
hip from him and reinstate the honest
hesitator.
Apples for Export.
Painted in black, on a white pine
board, in the salesroom of a Dey street
firm, was the sign, “Newtown Pippings
—For Shipping.”
“Are those apples for the European
trade ?” was asked
“Yes, but trade is not very brisk.
Apples are more plenty on the other
side, and are rather scarce on this, as
compared with last season.”
“Where do the shipping apples come :
from ?”
“The sign there calls for Long Island
apples. We get larger and softer ones
from West Virginia, bjik they are a little
too son, 'vtood denary apples grow in
most of the Middle states, but shipping
apples must be vey choice. We sort
them over as they c >me in. Then we
repack them, sometimes in cork dust,
sometimes wrapped in fine paper like
oranges, and somelmes without any
thing to separate then from each other.
They keep well in eh ter packing for the
length of time required for the trip
over.”
“What is the price of the shipping
apples ?”
“From $4 to $12 a barrel. Exporting
apples is a risky business. Sometimes
the market is caught and money is
made, only to be lust on the next lot.
More than 800,000 barrels were exported
last season, but those figures will not be
reached this winter.”-Wew; York Sun.
A man going home at a late hour in
the night saw that the occupant of a
house standing flftsh with the street had
left a window up, and he decided to
warn them and prevent a burglary. Put
ting bis head into the window he called
o^ “H^o! goodpeop—.” That was
all he said. A whole pailful of water
struck him in the face, and as he stage
gered back a woman shrieked out : I
“Didn’t I tell you what you’d get if you *
was’nt home by nine o’clock.” I
A STUDY OF A TORNADO.
j An Observer who Thinks that Springfield
j was Demolished by Electricity.
i
I A letter from Springfield, Mo., to the
New York Sun says: A tornado, or
i whatever else it may be called, that will
i take a hickory tree, sound and young,
I twenty inches in diameter, and, without
] uprooting it, twist it to splinters in the
! twinkling of one’s eye—that sort of
I thing deserves examination from scien
tific men. Of this description was the
late tornado here. Before looking into
the matter I was prepared to assert with
great confidence that the late disaster
was owing entirely to imperfect, slip-
shod building. Af ter a thorough, criti
cal, and entirely disinterested examina
tion, lasting a week, I am persuaded
that all current theories and explana
tions in reference to this and all torna
does elsewhere are at fault.
My reasons I will attempt to explain.
With the exception of perhaps two
buildings, the structures blown down at
Springfield are of a sort little qualified
to withstand oidmary Atlantic^^oast
gales. Undoubtedly far worse gales
than this Springfield tornado, in point
of violence, have been familiar to east
ern people for generations past.
I maintain that wind did not do the
damage.
Suppose that you take a group of
seven houses, for example, closely
bunched together.
A. storm comes up; three of the seven,
fully as substantial in every particular,
are pulverized to atoms by the storm,
while the remaining four are entirely
uninjured—untouched, in fact! How
can we account for such caprice on the
part ol the elements? Are such caprices
characteristic of wind storms ?
The woolen mill at Springfield was
built, as I am told by its builder, a Ger
man of solid, practical experience east
and west, of better material and with
more lime in the mortar than most brick
walls are composed of. The walls were
massive; the work was done under criti
cal supervision. This mill building was
demolished, while the frailest of frame
dwellings, buildings with no larger tim
ber in frame than 3x6, were left unin
jured, standing in the track of the tem
pest.
How can we account for this?
The frame dwellings that were de
stroyed by the tornado do not resemble
anything recognizable in the form of
timber, lumber, or any building ma-
( icxial whatever, 11 Tho ointo t£ ohaotio
confusion and demolishment in which
the' storm has left them. They look,
rather, as though Vulcan’s hammer had
struck them into a mass of formless rub
bish. This is fact, not exaggeration.
I have examined carefully several
times the remains of Father F. J.
O’Niell’s Catholic church at North
Springfield, entirely demolished by the
storm. The building was of firm and
thick brick walls; in size, 36x70 feet. It
was securely prepared, as to every es
sential to safety, when the tornado scat
tered it to the winds. There is scarcely
a brick left standing upon another above
the ground. The wreck looks as though
a great mill had passed it through the
hopper, through the runs of stones, and
out into formless void.
Father O’Niell’s dwelling, a frail cot
tage of the lightest of light pine lum
ber, put up in the ramshackle manner
usual with the Southern carpenters of
twenty years ago, escaped without so
much as a shingle being disturbed on
the roof. It stood some forty feet, per
haps, to the north of the demolished
church.
There were some remarkable, if not
miraculous, exemptions from the wreck
of this Catholic church. Father O’Niell
showed me several things which puz
zled the coolest brain. Everything per
taining to the, mass was taken from the
chaos of rubbish by Father O’Niell un
insured. The altar shone wes set in a
heavy frame of wood, this frame being
ground to splinters by the storm, but not
a scratch on the stone, of Italian mar
ble, could be detected. The missal or
mass book, a richly bound volume, was
perfect. The chalice, a solid silver cup,
elaborately engraved, was taken from
the wreck uninjured. The blessed sacra
ment and the tabernacle both were saved
intact. The organ was thrown across the
street. A little glue will right that.
A man told me of a group of fowl
which the storm caught. Every feather
was singed from them. They stood
bare of feathers, and their skin was
turned black.
Here, then, is a clue. These storms
are simply a concentrated force of elec
tricity, bursting upon any given object,
hurling it asunder, grinding it to pow
der, in many cases burning, singeing it
to a burnt crisp.
What else could take a hickory tree,
twenty inches in diameter, and twist it
from its roots, leaving it a formless heap
of splinters and pulp? C. W. H.
Among intelligent people antipathie
are more irreconcilable than hates.
There are men whose friends are more to
be pitied than their worst enemies.
WIT ■
! IN the mati ;
is the silent pr
The tramp i
' try. It is the
. Women loses
the looking-gla
j before the socle
I “Bum, you’i'
i wear!” “No !” .
j heap the worse
j In a man em j ,
j head, no man ;
1 him. An inves. .
| ways pays the 1
! Whatever di
j pear to be in :
; still a certain co.
I ill in all, that m:
A Burlington
cent watch and r' 1
i has named it ‘
! without works is
j Darwinian thee
! Norristown who '
' key.” The monke
} gan grinder and at
toy.
A YOUNG MAN, VlOx
pretty seamstress,
business he was in,
said: “I am develop
■ chine attachment.”
i A New York man ha
| vorce because a mustai .■■.
I on his wife’s lip. As a
1 man mad to have any m.
! wife’s lip but his own.-
Transcript.
! “Mary,” said a mother to
i ter, “has Henry proposed yet
yet, ma, but I think he will befi
days.” “What makes you thii
“Because he asked me if you e>l.
to live with me if I married, and a
him no.”
During the thick fog the other evt
ing Gom Gom took' a poor blin.
man by the hand and led him to his door.
Telling the story to a friend on the fol
lowing day, he cried: “It is terrible to
be blind in such a fog!”—Boston
Courier.
IN order that your husband may not
forget to bring in coal, place the hod
near the door where he cannot fail to
fall q,ver it. The chances are, by all
hods, that he’ll not try to scuttle out
of his duty, after a few mornings’ gentle,
reminder.
“Give me,” said the schoolmaster, “a
sontenGa in which the werrts ‘n. burning;
shame’ are properly applied.” Imme
diately the bright boy at the head of the
class went to the blackboard and wrote :
“Satan’s treatment of the wicked is a
burning shame.”
Seasonable hint to young men:
Don’t throw any obstacle in the way of
your lady friends when they express
curiosity about the size of your feet.
Christmas is coming, and if you lie
about the matter, the chances are your
new slippers will be four sizes too small
Such is the encouragement given to
flattery, in the present times, that it is
made to sit in the parlor, while honesty
is turned out of doors. Flattery is never
so agreeable as to our blind side ; com
mend a fool for his wit or a knave for
his honesty, and they will receive you
into their bosom.
AT a party the other night a young
man got a girl into a corner ,.and began
whispering to her. It was very weari
some to her, and just as she was about
to faint she startled the company by the
despairing shriek of “a girl over-bored !”
and this brought immediate relief.—
Philadelphia Chronicle.
STATIONERY POETRY.
Why did the penholder so tight,
And let the paper cutter so?
When Papa Terry knew ’twant write
To have a ruler for a beau.
Why did the inkstand idly by,
And note that things weren’t straight?
It should have tried to rubber dry,
And make the paper weights - -
—Merchant Traveler.
The director of the mint advises that
the coinage of gold dollars and three
cent pieces be discontinued. So far as
the gold dollar part of the advice is con
cerned, we do not care; but when the
three cent piece is withdrawn from cir
culation we shall feel that our financial
friend has been taken from us.—Ark.
Traveler.
“I am passionately fond of flowers,”
said Miss Fussanfeather to Algernon,
the other evening. “I always have
some kind of aflower about me.” “Well,
I can tell you,” replied the devoted Al
gernon, “that you must have had a mighty
mean kind of flower with you last
night, for I have worked on the lapel of
my coat for an hour and I haven’t got it
all o ffyet!”
IT was bitter cold last night, yet we
had a beautiful midsummer dream. We
dreamed we were walking in groves and
grottoes with a beautifiul dark-eyed
maiden with oh ! such ruby lips; and as
we were about to 3 .*cch a kiss we felt a
shake on the ’ ..der and heard a voice
saying, “G e, George ! Get up and
poke the fire/^ Some women can’t let a
fellow .’-".^ a girl even in a dream.