The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, April 24, 1883, Image 1
*
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. Cl. APRIL 24,1883.
ESTABLISHED 1848
THAT NIGHT.
You and I, and that night, with its perfume and
glorjl
The scent of the locusts—the light of the moon;
And the Tlolin weaving the waltsera a story.
Enmeshing their feet in the weft of the tune,
TUI their shadows uncertain
Reeled round on the curtain,
While under the trellis we drank In the June.
Soaked through with the midnight the cedars were
sleeping,
Their shadowy tresses outlined In the bright
Crystal, moon smitten mists, when the fountain’s
heart, leaping
JTorev* r, forever burst, full with delight;
And its lisp on my spirit
Tell faint as that near it
Whose love like a lily bloomed out in the nUrht.
O your glove was an odorous sachet of blisses!
The breath of your fan was abreese of Cathay!
And the rose at your throat was a nest of spilled
kisses'
And the music!—In fancy I hear It to-day,
As I sit here, confessing
Our secret, and blessing
My rival who fotud us, and waltsed you away.
AT LAST.
Don’t you know me ?” said Martha
Minkley.
The Hev. Paul Blossom was digging-
up a bed for late peas, under the pink
clouds of the apple-boughs, with his
straw hat tilted on the top of his head,
his linen coat fluttering in the wind,
and his brow beaded with prespiration.
One little Blossom wag following at
his heels with a toy rake, smoothing
down the lumps of fragrant earth ; a
second was building houses with oyster
shells, in the angle of the garden wall,
while two others were engaged in the
wholesale manufacture of mud-pies, at
the kitchen door-step—all four dirty,
happy and demoralised.
Mr. Blossom looked hard at the trim
figure, with its neat, cheap hat, black
and white chocked plaid shawl and
flounced alpaca dress.
He was a little near-sighted, a little
absent-minded, and yet—surely this
sweet-voiced, cherry-cheeked woman
was none of the sisters of his flock.
“No,” said Mr. Blossom ; “I can’t
say that 1 do.”
Miss Minkley smiled and colored a
little.
“Try and think back,” said she, “to
the days of the Wesleyan Seminary, on
Rose River, where we recited Roman
history in the same class, and old Dr.
Dodge heard us in rlietoric and English
literature—old Dr. Dodge, who wore
green spectacles and talked through his
nose 1”
Mr. Blossom dropped his spade.
“It’s Matty Minkley,” said he.
“But, dear me, how you’ve changed!”
“I haven’t grown any younger, I
don’t suppose,” said Martha, bitiR? her
lip. “But that’s a complaint tbit is
common to us all, Mr. Blossom.”
“Yes, I know—I know 1” admitted
Paul, turning red to the very roots of
his hair as he realized what an awk
ward mistake he had made.
“Time doesn’t spare any of us.”
And then feeling that he had not
bettered matters, he made haste to ask—
“And how came you in Toppleton
village ?”
“My cousin’s husband, Hiram Dodd,
keeps the hotel,” said Martha.
“I’ve come to see about a situation
as housekeeper for a gentleman that
- Mr. Dodd knows: for I’m not above
earning my own living, Mr. Blossom.”
She spoke with a little fulness in her
throat, for she had somehow cherished
Paul Blossom’s memory kindly since
those boy and and girl days, and now
he had never even asked her to “Come
' ini”
“He might have introduced me to
his wife, at least,” said Miss Minkley
to herself, as she walked swiftly and
lightly along the green path.
“That wouldn’t have been too much
for old acquaintance sake.
“But if he chooses to forget old times,
I can only follow his example.
“I wouldn’t have thought it of him,
though.”
And the waving billows of the dis
tant apple-orchard swam in the disks of
two big tears, which momentarily ob
scured Miss Minkley’s bright black
eyes.
And Mr. Blossom mechanically d
the pea-bed up, planted the “wrinkl
marrowfats,” and went into the house,
where his sister, a middle-aged spinster
of a care-worn aspect and a very uncer
tain temper, was engaged in single com
bat with the children.
“I declare, Paul,” she croaked, catch
ing sight of her brother, “them chil
dren are enough to try the patience of
Job.
“All washed clean this morning, and
mended and darned—and now look at
’em ! Why. a gipsy gang couldn’t be
more discreditable in their appearance. ’ ’
“And somehow upon this very day
of all days, I feel moved to fulfil it.”
And he put on his best suit, and went
straightway to the “Eagle Hotel,” kept
by one Henry Dodd and Elvira, his
wife.
“Is Miss Minkley to be seen ?” he
asked politely of Mrs. Dodd, who came
from the kitchen with carmine cheeks,
and wiping her hands on a snowy rol
ler-towel.
“Oh, yes. I guess so,’’said Mrs. Dodd,
smiling ana curtseying to the clergy
man. “Squire Telwrighi has just been
to see her but I’m pretty sure that he
has gone now. Mat, Matty, where are
you ?
“Oh, she’s in the blue parlor.
“Please to walk in, Mr. Blossom.”
And the clergyman walked solemnly
into the pretty blue-carpeted room,
with its much-waxed mahogany chairs,
gaudy-rug, and stiffly-starched muslin
curtains, where Martha Minkley sat
knitting.
“Miss Minkley,” said 1ft, entering
without unnecessary prelude on the
subject which was at present abso bing
his mind, “we have known each other
from childhood.”
“Yes,” said Martha.
“And I believe you to be a devout
Christian, a conscientious woman, and
a good housekeeper.”
“I hope I am,” said Miss Martha,
rather fluttered by this unusual address.
“In my home,” said Mr. Blossom ab
ruptly, “I need all three.
“And I believe Providence has put
>it into my head and heart to appeal to
you at this critical opportunity.”
Miss Minkley neither blushed, gig
gled, nor burst into tears.
She rocked back and forth, went
composedly on with the red worsted
sock that she was knitting, and lifted
her black eyebrows just the least little
trifle.
“I’m very sorry,” she said.
“I only wish you had been a little
earlier ; but I’m engaged already.”
“Engaged ?”
Mr. Blossom’s lower jaw fell ; he
stood blankly looking at her.
“To Mr. Telwright,” explained Miss
Minkley.
“But he’s sixty,” cried Blossom.
“He is not young,’’admittedMartha.
“Surely, surely, Martha,” argued
Paul, forgetting all formalities in his
eager interest, “you cannot care for
him ?”
“N-no,” said Martha, “I can’t say
that I do. But he offers me a very
good home.”
“Is it possible, Martha,” said the
good clergyman reproachfully, “that
you can allow yourself to be swayed by
considerations like this ?”
“One must do the^best they can for
The Rev. Paul Blossom was happy ;
so was Martha Minkley; so were the
children and in a lesser degree, Mr. and
Mrs. Hiram Dodd.
But Miss Jemima Blossom was not
at all pleased, after hav mg selected
Miss Hester Henderson as her brother’s
second wife.
Neither was Miss Henderson herself,
who had already settled on the color of
her wedding dress.
And Squire Telwright was compelled
to advertise in the paper for a suitable
house keeper, after all.
But love, a late-blooming flower in
some lives, was beginning to brighten
Miss Martha Minkley’s solitary exis
tence at last; and what mattered any
thing else ?
How CoM W»T*a Trove 1.
The Moumto of Om Momolukeo.
Cold waves, so called—a name for
which we are indebted to recent mete
orological science—do not appear to
move in some instances, much faster
than a railroad express train. They
vary, however, in their rate of motion.
"Where do they come from? It is not
easy to say. It might be found, if one
could travel at express train speed from
the mountains of Montana and the
frozen regions farther north, that the
cold continued all the way to eastern
Alaska and on to Behring Straits, with
even a greater degree of intensity. In
fact, the coldest region is*probably the
wide expanse west, and especially north
west of Hudson’s Bay, in the neighbor
hood of the magnetic pole. A “cold
wave” is a wave of heavy air, following
the rarefied track of “low barometer,
and changing the rarefied track and
milder atmosphere (which is usually also
stormy) to one of clear, cold skies, a
heavy air, full of tonic power, and ex
hilarating and hunger-producing to
sound and healthy animal life. The
establishment of the modem. Govern
ment weather observation stations, with
their appliances, including the electric
telegraph and the daily press, has en
abled the country to see and compre
hend something of the movements of
these frequent cold waves. The move
ment is as marked as the advance of a
veritable sea Mave. It is one of the
impressive facts of meteorological phe
nomena. The telegraph heralds its start
from the Rocky Mountains (it always
seems to begin there, though in fact it
Rarely does-^having its origin much
i farther north,) and its advance can be
timed like that of a railroad train. Its
This Cftadel, Cairo, was, in 1811, the
scene of the massacre of the Mamelukes
by Mohammed All, a deed of base
treachery, but ol consummate and suc-
cessfrl policy; a coup d’etat, in fact.
The Mamelukes had risen from the po
sition of slaves to tliat of Sultans. The
Circassian dynasty produced a race of
military Princes /ho .waged war with
the Ottoman Sultans. The last but one,
Sultan Ghoree, was slain in battle in
Syria, and his successor. Toman Bey,
was routed on the plain between Cairo
and Heliopolis. He was taken captive
and hanged, and Ills head stuck on the
malefactors’ gateway, Bab Zooaylen.
Though the supreme power had thus
passed away from them, the Mameluke
aristocracy still maintained their ancient
valor, tin their brilliant cavalry was
routed by Napoleon at the battle of the
Pyramids, and but a small remnant left.
These Mameluke nobles had helped Mo
hammed All to the Pashalik, but it is
supposed that they had changed their
mi nds, and were plotting to destroy him.
At all events, having used them as the
ladder of his ambition, he found it ex
pedient to get rid of them. He therefore
invited them all all to he present within
the Citadel, when a Pasha was to be in
vested with some military command.
Four hundred and seventy of these mag
nificent beings accordingly rode up in
great state, but when they turned to de
part they found the gates closed, and
from every corner a murderous Are of
musketry rained upon them. From this
horrible carnage one alone escaped,
namely Amyn Bey, who forced his horse
to leap the rampart, a fail of 40 feet.
Happily he lighted on a heap of rubbish
and though the horse was killed the
man escaped, and, giving the horse into
the care of the Arabs, found protection
during the ensuing days, when the
houses of the Mamelukes were plundered,
and all their relations, numbering about
1,000 were murdered, and the gate of
Bab Zooayleh litererally covered with
those ghastly trophies, the heads of the
slain. It is said that from this massacre
one other man escaped, Suleiman A
by name, who disguised himself u
long blue robe of an Arab woman, ahd,
thus veiled, escaped his foes. This man
had been the Pasha’s prime favorite,
and the story goes ouL that without
showing any special disgust at his
friend’s treachery, he returned to his
post of favorite, and even repeated the
little joke of dressing ep as an Arab
ipearing before His High-
ed her own
around; and the body ? in its slight coffin,
is literally covered with flowers.
There is no, or very little crape known
in Spain, save in the larger cities; a
plain black dress is the usual mourning ;
the lady friends of the family kneel
round the coffin, kiss thA cold forenead,
and turn silently away.
The priests, some four or five would
be the average number, are at the door;
if the coffin be that of a child, it is very
slight, not to say flimsy, and painted of
a light blue, picked out with gilt stars,
costing two dollars more or less; if a
grown up person, it is of slight or mas
sive wood, according to the pecuniary
means of the family.
The lid is constantly left open.
Every male friend of the family is
waiting outside; the laborer has left his
hoe in the field, the carpenter his work
shop, the tailor his counter, all, in fact,
who knew the dead man, follow his re
mains to their last earthly resting-place,
the priests going before, in white and
black robes, with cap on head, preceded
by choristers and macebearer, and light
in costly lanterns, and singing the
mournful strains of the Spanish funeral
anthem.
At the cemetery gates the ceremony,
so far as the Church is concerned, is at
an end the priests turn back, the crowd,
high and low walking side by side, as
befits men who walk in the presence of
a common foe.
The bricklayer, trowel in hand, stands,
ready beside the opened niche, tne coffin
is pushed in, brickdup. cigarettes are lit,
and the crowd wends its way home.
Within three days a printed paper is
sent round by the mourning family, to
notify their friends on what day and at
what hour they will hold their funeral
reception, and a most simple and touch
ing ceremony it is.
The days of mourning are strictly ob-
seved; those of a widow should number
a year and one month, after which she
may ‘change her name.’
The bereaved family sit in their re
ception room in deep mourning; you
pass in, express your sympathy in kind
ly words, and pass on to your usual
business.
Each year, as it rolls round in its
quiet course and brings the anniversary
of the Spaniard’s day of griel, is marked
by a solemn service in the mortuary
chapel of the parish church, and from
the dark incense-laden aisles the simple
prayers of all who loved their lost one
ascend up to God.
The Bed Box et Breekbwt.
“it would be downright sinful to doubt I the Asiatic shore,and the equally frigid I folks in Cairo,
wel
SI
lowtom,
speed varies from forty to sixty, or some-
tunes even seventy miles an hour; I damsel, who appearing
usually it would seem about fifty. It
rolls over the country, a real wave, an
aerial counterpart, on the shore, of its I case, whereupon, remog
congener, the tidal wave of the ocean; I displayed the features ol
and ita dkeetia** is usually from the | i*
. «■ owta—nwi < ■ «* ■ ~'
slowly down from the
carried her
her veil she
leiman, who
bMMMBh
jEaTfriend of the Pasha and other great
that all is ordered for the best.
“It is the will of Heaven.
“I always liked you, Martha, and I
believe your life with me would have
been both useful and pleasant.
“At least, no effort of mine should
have been lacking to make it so.”
“I am very sorry,” said Martha de
murely. “But first come first served,
you know.”
“I should like occasionally to call and
see you,” said the clergyman.
“You will still be in my parish, you
know ?”
“Oh, certainly,” said Martha.
“I hope that we shall always be the
best of friends.”
And Mr. Blossom almost fancied that,
for a quarter of a second, the tender
grasp of his hand was in some measure
returned.
He walked dejectedly out.
“I am too late, Mrs. Dodd,” he said,
wilds of the American mainland in the
Arctic circle, to our Atlantic coast—in
breadth reaching all the way from Nova |
e Ha
Deuth and Bartel In Spain.
Scotia to Cape Hatteras, and frequently
making its chill presence felt as far
south as Florida. The Bermudas— |
ences of our “cold waves” very percep
tibly. That solitary little group of small,
low-lying coral islands, which can be
can be reached by steamer from New
York in the same time it would take to
go to Savannah, happen to lie on the
leeward side of the Gulf Stream; and
that great therma: current of the ocean
forever saves them from frost keeps them
in spring foliage all winter; but, while
it finely tempers and modifies the north
wind, it cannot quite rob it of all its in
trinsic character—and the result is a
wind that may be at times cool and fre-
Tha WorrlM of Authonhlp.
There are many disappointments in
life, and among the saddest is that of
the author who ftndann maritet for th»
has beWlenThe Drigbfest of Tntelfecw.
The coinage of tbeir brains, stamped
with genius, has found no currency
during the author’s generation.
“Paradise Lost” brought John Milton
only a paltry five pounds—about twenty-
five dollars of our money.
Wordsworth once told Matthew Am-
‘Yes,’ said the boy, with a vacant
look, ‘I take no interest in the pleasure
of the chase any more, though I did
have a little quiet fun this morning at
the breakfast table. You see pa is the
contrariest man ever was. If I com
plain that anything at the table don’t
taste good, pa says it is all right. This
morning I took the syrup pitcher and
emptied out the white syrup and put in
some cod-liver oil that ma is taking for
her cough. I put some on my pancakes,
and pretended to taste of it, and I told
pa the syrup was sour, and, not fit to
eat. Pa was mad- in a second, and he
poured out some on his pancakes and
said I was getting too confounded par
ticular. He said the syrup was good
enough for him, and he sopped his pan
cakes in it and fired some down his
neck. He is a gaul darned hypocrite—
that’s what he is. I could see by his
face that the cod-liver oil was near kill
ing him, but he said the syrup was all
right, and if I didn’t eat mine he’d
break my neck; and by gosh I had to
eat it, and pa he guessed he hadn’t got
much appetite and he would just drink
a cup of coffee and eat a donut. I like
to dide, and that I think makes this
disappointment in love harder to bear.
But I felt sorry for ma. Ma ain’t got a
very strong stummish, and when she
got some of that cod-liver oil in her
mouth she went up stairs, sickern a
horse, and pa had to help her, and she
had nooralgia all the morning. I eat
pickles to take the taste out of my
mouth, and then I laid for the hired
girls. They eat too much syrup, any
way, and when they got on to thut cod-
liver oil and swallowed a lot of it, one
of them an Irish girl, she got up from
the table and put her hand on her corset
and said ‘howly Moses!’ and went out
into the kitchen looking as pale as ma
does when she has powder on her face,
and the other girl, who is Dutch, she
swallowed a pancake and said, ‘Mine
Gott, vas de matter from me,’ and she
went out and leaned on the coal bin.
Then they talked Irish and Dutch, and
got clubs and started to look for me,
and I thought I would come over here.
1 , hft wlyde family is sick, but it is not
: rom love, like my illness, and they will
get over it, while I shall fill an early
l :rave; but not till I have made that
l [irl and the telegraph messenger wish
hey were dead. Pa and I are going to
Chicago next week, and I’ll bet we’ll
lave some fun. Pa says I need a
change of air, and I think he is going to
ry to lose me. It’s a cold day when I
jet left anywhere that I can’t find my
way back. Well, good bye, old pota
toes.’
They will never return | The bright
days of yore have gone; the friends we
loved have irone; and they will never re-. „— .. . , , .
come; the tropic, the autumnal rains— manv went becrmnir
all wiil return; but the hours, days,
years, and friends that have passed come
no more!’ . .
Children of nature, holding their
tenure of life by natural more than arti
fiical right, it is in spring and fall that
the Spanish die; in the summer heats,
deaths arc very rare; and in the chilly,
but little-varying temi*erature of the
winter, still more rare.
And so the Spaniards call Autumn
"i am wio iam, mrs. iwuu, ue t»m, ■ "—~~z~ r. ’' r n u. i au- iWorvemt nf the acred.’, and Spring, l <juiicuw »nu mcmnu*,. *•*»*<*=
meeting the cheery landlady, who was] fluently boMwouA but never really o, I ^ ijj arve8 t 0 f the young’, and almost I struck off by his publisher. A
coming in with a pair of newly-bright- and those lonely 5 I invariably it is at night the Host is year or so, the author received
ened brass candlesticks. | wide-reaching coral^reefe^ave all vrin- ^riably^is^at mgnt tu I -- -
ter a pleasant climate of spring
is almost all that they, or the more
southern islands of the Bermudas, ever
know of our winter “cold waves.”
These come in an almost rhythmical
succession, and have their causes, doubt-
less, as potent as those of the ocean’s
tides, which they strikingly resemble.
Shopping In Mexico.
It is 8 or 9 P. M. of autumal eve;
suddenly from the old church tower
ring out three, then three more, then
three more—a trinity of sharp clangs of
one bell; the priests assemble in the
chapel—they live hard by, in their
clergy-house, and one always keeps a
outside his window, in wakeful
Dear, dear, sir !” said Mrs. Dodd.
“She has already promised herself to
Mr. Telwright. Though how, to be
sure, she could ever have made his ac
quaintance—”
“She wasn’t acquainted with him,
sir,” said Mrs. Dodd.
“Not at all.
“At least, not until I introduced
them, an hour ago.”
The Reverned Paul looked horrified.
“And yet,” he gasped, “she is going
to marry him!”
Mrs. Dodd, in her consternation,
dropped one of the brass candlesticks.
“Blessyour heart alive, sir!” she. - ,
cried out, “she ain’t agoin’ to do noth- busily employed doing nothing. After
ing of the kind. waiting for some time one will approach
“She’s only going to be housekeeper! you with the most nonchalant air and
for him at $150 a year, and two servants ask what you want in a tone of voice,
kept. Top won’t e-n**ning, .it, ”0'^ I
ed into many languages, went begging
from publisher to publisher, before one
recognized its great merit.
Hawthorne, for twenty years contin
ued to be, to use his own words, “the
obscurest man of letters in America.”
“There is not much market for my
wares,” he said at another time. But
he ranks iMay among the American
classics.
Thoreau was another example. A
thousand copies of his “A Week on the
Concord and Merrimac Rivers” were
After
j won
that his work would not sell, and that
seven hundred and six copies were oc
copying oellar-room wanted for other
use. Accordingly, they were transport
ed from Boston to Concord.
The work had gone forth in its naked
ness and now returned in fine clothinj
of calico and leather, back to the old
homestead, as so many poor unfortu-
lamp outside his window, in waiteiui iioui»«ha**i.
.. _ slumbers, ready to rise if summoned and nates who have failed in the struggle of
Clara Bridgeman, writing of her ex- cany heraMed^a^ylnlSi ThoiSiu^ve them kindly thoug
perience in a Mexican dry goods store, | hisbeU, and preceded | sorrowful welcome. He laid them on
rers, the clergy carry-
'■mirinx-
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
Show respect for old age. YoutL
does not always last.
Keep up the fire of resolution by fre
quent replenishing.
It is not necessi ty to be offensive in
order to be decided.
An obstinate man does not hold opin
ions; they hold him.
Impudence can not be laid to the
charge of good sense.
The love of God imposes on us no im
possible conditions.
Piety belongs to the wise, and is a
great premotor of happmes£
The art of life is to know how to en
joy a little and to endure much.
Time is immessurak'y long to him
who knows how to value and use it.
Unless you wish to reap the same
kind of harvest, do not sow wild oats.
Select a worthy object in life, and
bend all your efforts in that direction.
Under all eartn runs water, if we dig
deep enough; under all life runs grief.
Labor is the divine law of our exis
tence; repose is desertion and suicide.
Bj taking revenge a man is but even
with his enemy; but in passing it over
he is superior.
Riches are given to make life pass
comfortably: but life is not given only
to mass riches.
He that will not look before him will
have to look behind him—and probably
with some regret.
There is fellowship among the virtues
by which one great, generous passion
stimulates another.
It is worth a thousand pounds a year
to have the habit of looking on the
bright side of things.
The causes which start men upon
their careers are often seemingly the
most slight and casual.
This life’s contradictions are many.
Sdt water gives us fresh fish, and hot
words produce coo'ness.
L ich man is a hero and an oracle to
somebody, and to that person whatever
he says has an enohanoed value.
If you were to try to recall all the
good deeds you have ever done in your
life, would half an hour be too long?
Take a true view of life; be proud
that you have work in the world’s busv
path, and do it well and honorably.
All men if they work not as if in the
great Taskmaster’s eyes, will work
wrong both for themselves and you.
The proper function of a Government
is to make it easy for people to do good
and difficult for them to do evil,
ft
goocSemporium I petticoat., ttagtagM*bell, a?" Preceded
.m.i a larcra nmnViAr nf clerks. I by six candle-bear
and murmur prayers, their hand elapsed
around each other’s waists.
The tinkle of the bell waxes fainter
and fainter along the dusky and wind-
his back and carried them “up two
flights of stairs to a place similar to
that which they traced their origin.”
With a sort of grim humor he said, “I
have now a library of nearly nine hun
dred volumes, over seven hundred of
which I wrote myself.”
It was real funny to see him brace up
as he turned the comer, button his
hreadbare black coat, adjust his hat,
shove a pencil over his ear, and try to
disguise himself. When he had fixed
limself he passed down the street, en-
ered a saloon, and walking straight up
o the bar he asked:
“fa your name Blank?”
“I expect it is,” was the reply.
“John Blank?”
“Vhell, der poys call me Shon.”
“Can I shpeak to you in private, Mr.
Blank?”
“You can sneak right oudt here. No-
xxly is aroundt except my poy, und he
dean’ hear us.”
“I thought it would lie better to sit
down at a table and talk over our glasses
of beer, ”
“I guess not. I can shtand oop und
hear all you say.”
“Well, Mr. Blank, I have lieen depu
tized to ask you if you would be a can
didate for Mayor next year.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You are said to be one of the
most popular men in Detroit. Yon are
rich, popular, liberal, and could be elect
ed by a large majority.”
The saloonist looked at him for a long
minute and then asked:
“Are you dry?”
“Never was so dry in my life.”
With a perfectly placid countenance
Mr. Blank filled a “schooner” with
water, placed it on the bar, and looked
the man square in the eye as he said:
“I vhas a tousand times obleeged to
der poys, but I can’t except dot office.”
“You can’t? Don’t you want to be
Mayor of Detroit?”
“No, my friendt. I haf sometings
better ash dot. I vhas going to run for
Governor next time! Come in real of
ten und dhrink to my success!”
Henry Cloy* Cnotlnf 8h»kep«.T.
“I was asking her to be my . wife,
| said Mr. Blossom solemnly ; “and I ful-
interest whatever in the answer. When
Mr. Blossom looked fee^STaTthe]^‘believed that she understood me to|yoia wantYsmade known-andyouteej
chubby, rosy, dirty flock.
“It never used.to be so when Mary
was alive,” said he.
“Well, and that’s just what I am
saying,” said Miss Blossom tartly ;
“and what I say every day in the week
—you ought to marry again.”
“Yee,” said Mr. Blossom, with a
sigh, “I suppose I ought.”
And by some curious link of ideas
he thought of Martha Minkley. stand
ing out there among the apple-blossoms,
with the delicate pink color on her
cheeks and the old vognish sparkle in
her black eyes.
“Certainly you ought,” said Miss
Blossom, thinking of Hester Hender
son, the village dress maker, who had
money in the bank, which ought fairly
to compensate for her Gcrgon-lke severi
ty of countenance. “Some one of ma
ture age and ripened judgment.”
“Of course, of course,” said the Re
verend Paul.
“Who would befit her position as a
clergyman’s wife, and keep your house
for you in a model manner, as it should
be kept,” went on Miss Blossom, “and
govern your children with discretion
and mildness.”
that effect.”
Mrs. Dodd grasped eagerly at the
sleeve of his coat.
“She couldn’t 1” she said.
“Just wait a bit, sir—wait a bit.
“Martha! Matty I come out here this
minute !
- “You haven’t understood a word that
the Reverned Mr. Blossom has said to
you. He has asked you to marry him I’
The knitting fell from Mias Minkley’s
hands.
She turned very pale, and began to
tremble.
Was it then true—the crushed out,
forgotten dream of her whole life ? The
reaching instinct of her hungering
heart ? *
Did some one really love her at last—
even her ?
“I—I didn’t comprehend 1” said she.
“I supposed that he wanted me to
his housekeeper. I believed that
wife was living.”
‘She’s been dead theae four years,”
quality
-he wifi
assured as to the exact width,
and color of the goods required-
depart, api>arently in quest of the ma
terial; how sad is your mistake, however,
if you expect a speedy return, for on the
way he will stop to play with somebody’s
baby, or to hold a long conversation with
one of the fellow clerks, or to take half
an hour’s pull at his beloved cigar, and
sometimes, during an unusually lengthy
period of suspense, we have been temp
ted to believe that he indulged in a si
esta. At last, when body and spirit are
both nearly exhausted you will perhaps
succeed in finding the stuff for yoifr
dress; but this, you soon discover, is only
the beginning of your troubles; you ask
for buttons, and are told to Teek them
in a fancy store in the next block; for
pins, needles, hooks and eyes—they are
, to be found in a hardware establishment
be I around the corner; for thread—it is kept
his I at another shop several squares off; for
black sewing silk—that can be bought
only where machines are sold; for ribbon
—and you are answered with a look of
• and suclr
in a dry-
have
interjected Mrs. Dodd. . — .
“And ! f ever there was a saint upon surprise at your ignorance, at
“and I earth, Martha Minklej, and a man as thing is never to bamet with
t0 I& urui^art^ll tU?mriou.
Yes to be sure ” said Mr. Blossom. | Martha held out her hands. | appropriate places, and arnwyajmes^on
“I llKl knoTiheTe^ person to
realize all these ideals.” years Weslevan
“So do I,” said Miss Blossom oracu- boy and girl together at the Weideyan
“And not a hundred miles away, Semtoary, “doyou care for me ? Do
you love me, Paul?”
“I do,” he answered solemnly.
“Then I will be your wife,’' said
Martha, with a little sob.
In this world nothing is altogether
satisfactory. ' ~
sick man’s door, while the priests walk
upstairs to administer the Host to the
^AH around are heard the sounds of I
woe; the hysterical wailing and weeping;
the men are smoking the soothing ci-|
garette, that universal and chief com
fort in this land, and stand, reverently,
here and there.
But there are some terrible diseases,
in which the Host cannot be adminis-
cannot retain the wafer
or he is
A Kioto Corporation,
Henry Clay, who left a seat in the
Senate for one in the House, but after
many years’ service at the other end of
the Capitol returned to the Senate
chamber, exercised a powerful control
over the politics to the republic. Idol-,
ized by the Whig party, his wonderful
powers of personal magnetism, and
his rich, manly voice would enable him
hold an audience for hours. He made
but little preparation, and used but
few notes in speaking; but when he
The patient cannot retain tne water, i wrote out his remarks for the press,|his
too far gone to swallow it; it manuscript was remarkably neat, vrith-
cannot be. out interlineations or blots. He seldom
The friends are consulted, and they indulged in classical allusions, and his
sav ‘We desire, on his behalf, that the occasional attempts to make quotations
Churcl should give him extreme unc- Uf English poetry were generally fail
tion ’ which is done, only however in ores. r ‘- '^ r ' Qa<r,n hft ,,awl thl
faviy.
pit hpr ”
“In this \ery village
“Exact’y,” nodden I
ter,
“It Is certain^ my duty,”
Blossom. .
.’’said Paul,
his delighted sis-
said Mr.
every side, you will be ready to agree
with us in saying that Mexican store
clerks are institutienspeculiarly obnoxi
ous to Americans.
Baa « nT « T ' T ^ t are moustea on terra-oot-
ts plaques. Figures carved on terra cot
ta peer o>ver the edge ol the ahella and
appear a* ]f perfectly at home In their
curious tenement.
desperate cases. The bed-clothes are
turned down; with due decency, the
forehead, chest, soles of the feet, etc.,
are ‘anointed with oil in the name of
the Lord ’ and the kiss is given, and the
sufferer dies. , ,, .
In this semi-tropic climate, there is
none of that keeping of the cold day in
the house as long as possible, and the
funeral follows close upon the very heels
of death. „ , . .
In ancient days, in Spain, the dead
were robed, according to their sex, in
the garb of monk and nun, and thus
buried. ... ,,
But now they are buried, according
_ On one occasion, he used the
well-known phrase from Hamlet, “Let
the galled jade wince, our withers are
unwTung,” but misquoted the last syl
lable, calling it “un-«trt*ny.” The gen
tlemen who sat on either side of him
noticed the error, and simultaneously
whispered “unwrung.” This double
prompting confused “Young Harry of
the West,” who straightened himself,
and with stronger emphasis repeated
“unhung.” This raised agenerallaugh,
the close of which Clay, who bid
The Canadian Pacific Railway Com
pany is one of the richest corporations
in the world. It started out with a
grant of 756 miles of road bnilt and in
operation; another grant of 25,000,000
acres of land, said to be worth an aver
age of $5 per acre, and a Government
guarantee of the clear gift of $25,000,-
000, to be paid in instalments, so much
upon the completion of each section of
twenty miles. Its charter exempts the
rood, equipment and capital stock from
taxes forever, and it has free right of
way, with all the materials for construc
tion and equipment free from duty.
The whole mileage to be built by the
company is less than 2400 miles. The
eastern half of it will not cost more
than $15,000 a mile, or $18,000,000.
The western half, including passage
through two ranges of mountains, may
cost an average of $35,000 a mile, or
$42,000,000; a total probable cost of
$60,000,000, of which the Government
pays $25,000,000, leaving for the com
pany bht $35,000,000, which 7,000.000
acres of thieir land grant from Winnigeg
westward will pay. They will then
have left their entire capital stock and
18,000,000 acres of land for the con
struction of connections and branches
meanwhile ascertained his mistake. 1 and equipment and for the creation of
shook his head, and said wjth one of j of connecting lines of steamships from
his inimitable smiles: “Ah! murder will Montreal to Europe at the East, and
out! Unwrung’s the word.” The fas- from Port Moody with Australia,
laid out in its white baby clothes; a'his political adversaries. — —
. «„ w wpddinff-dress. i able; but he was imperious and domi- surplus, ought to become a regulator or
br The short while toe body lies in state, neering, exacting unconditional and all the other transcontinental railways
to the atrast, lighted candles burn all friendship. teea went the public.
fo/whst Is Jne is. that he has earned it
If oar whole time was spent in amus
ing ourselves, we shoald find it more
wearisome than the hardest dsy's work.
Good breeding consists in having no
partiouiar mark of any profession, bat
a general elegance of manners.
Bo courageous and noble-minded ;
our own heart, and not other men’s
opinions of us, forms our true honor.
The best government is not that which
renders man the happiest, bnt that
wbioh renders the greatest number
happy.
True glory takes root, and even,
spreads; ail false pretenses, like flov-
tw, fall to the ground; nor can any
counterfeit last long.
A Russian proverb says: “Before go
ing to war pray once, before going to
sea pray twice, before getting married
pray three tunes.”
Kind words produce their own image
in men’s sonls, and a beautiful image
it is. They soothe and comfort the
hearer. They shame him out of his
nnkind feelings. We have not yet
degan to use them in such abundance
as they ongat to be used.
Life is made np not of great sacrifices
or duties, bnt of little things, of which
smiles and kindness, and small obliga
tions, given habitually, are what win
and preserve the heart
The conditions of success are these:
First, work; second, concentration;
third, fitness. Labor is the genius
which changes toe ugliness of the
world into beanty; that changes the
greatest curse into a blessing.
If the superior being of the nniverae
would look down upon the world to find
the most interesting object, it would
be the unfinished, unformed character
of young men, or of young women.
Thou onghtest, therefore, to call to
mind toe more heavy sufferings of
others, that thon mayest the more
easily bear thine own very small trou
bles. And if they seem unto thee not
small, beware lest thine impatience be
the cause thereof.
As the rays came from the sun, and
yet are not the son, even so our love
and pity, though they are not God but
merely a poor, weak image and reflec
tion of Him, yet from him alone they
come. If there is mercy in our heart?,
it comes from the Fountain of mercy.
H there is the light #f love in ns, it is
a ray from the fall San of love.
Constrained worsuip is corpbreal
inanimate, obscure and gloomy. Bnt
unoousiraiued worn 1 up, when it is genu
ine, is spii itual, living, lucid and joy
ful; spiritual, because there is spirit
from the Lird in it; living, because
there is life from the Lord in it; lucid,
because there is wisdom from the Lord
in it; andjoyiul. because there|is heaven
from the Lord in it.
Yon may know and be able dearly to
explain the whereabouts of the ark of
the covenant, the pot of manna, the
tables of stone and the wrecked frag
ments of Pharoah’s chariots. Yon may
be able to speak eloquently and learutd
of Abraham, Lumo and Jacob. May
be up in toe Jewish dispensation, and
know, to an inch, the length of the
High Priest’s robes. May be able to
explain creation, and even to draw a
■limftTam of the Garden of Elen, bnt
knowledge of theae never will
your pupil i to Christ. Better evidence
than all this is suppiied'by a knowlm go
of Christ in your own heart; by T
of purpose, truthfulness " *“*
pure and godly life.
a,
\
v;-..