The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, January 12, 1886, Image 3
f: %' *.?V*Y-"Srvmy.T?v
? ' ' ' ' . ' ~
J """ WBATMYLOVJSBSAID. \]
i
r -Bv the merest chance, in the twilight gloom, ]
In the orchard path he met me, J
In the tall wet grass, with its faint perfume, j
And I tried to pass, but ho made no room, i
Oh! I tried, but he wouldn't let me. j
Bo I stood and blushed till the giawj grew red,
With my face bent down above it, I
While he took my hand, as he whispering j
said?
How the clover lifted each pink sweet head j
To listen to all that my lover said! j
Oh! the clover in bloom ?I love itl
In the high wet grass went the path to hide,
And the low wet leaves hung over,
For I could not pa>s on either side,
- For I found myrelf when I vainly tric4
In the arms of my Bteadfast lover.
- And he htld mo there and he raised my bead,
While closed the path before mo,
And ho looked down into my eyes and said?
nAn, 41,/v |AO?/.ci a
11u v* uiu iud ita uu?? xi 11vu1 vuc i/uu5110
o'er head
To listen to all that my lover Baid!
Oh! tho leaves hanging lowly o'er mo!
< Had he moved aside but a little way
I could surely then have passed bim.
And he knew I could never wiBh to stay,
And would not have heard what he had to say
Gould I only aside have cast him. <
' It was almost dark and the moments sped
And the searching night wind found us;
But he drew me nearer and softly Baid?
How the pure sweet wind grow still instead
To listen to all that my lover Baid?
Oh! tho whispering wind around us!
[am Buro ho knew when he held mo fast,
That I must bo all unwilling;
For I tried to go and I would have paused,
: h As tho night was come with its dews at last
' ' And the sky with its stars was filling;
But he clasped me close when I would have
fled
And he mado me hear his Btory,
And his c>oul camo out from his lips and said?
How the stars crept out when the white
moon led
To listen to all that mv lover Baid!
Oh! the moon and tlio Hlara in glory!
' C know thai the gr&B3 and the leaves will not
tell,
And I'm sure that the wind, precious rover,
Will carry his secret so nafely and well
That no being shall ever discover
One word of the many that rapidly fell
From the eager lips of my lover.
And the moon and the stars that looked over
Shall never reveal what a fairy-like spell
Thoy wove round about us that night in the
dell,
^n the path through the dew-laden clover;
Nor echo the whispers thut made my heart
swell
As they fell from the lips of my lover.
Homes Gbeene.
MILLY.
.
"I guess poor Jim will haVe to go
tifull v>?.. 11 1
nnuuut uia Duppur lU-Ul^Ill, HU1U,
Widow Hosmer, as she peered anxiously
out into the bleak, rainy twilight. Pete
has sprained his leg so, slipping down
out of the hayloft, that he can't take a
-step on it, and I s'pose you and 1 will
have to finish the chores, Milly."
"All right, mother; I can milk old
Speckle as well as not; and then we
have only to close up things for night.
Pete managed to get the hay down before
he got himself down, but I do think
he is the most awkward, unlucky creature
that we ever had on the place.
Here it isn't a week since he almost cut
his thumb off, and it's a mercy he didn't
burn the house up yesterday when he
went and started the groat fire in the
fireplace without ever taking the boards
off the chimney!"
"Yes, that's so; he does seen a bitun.
balanced; but I feel sorry for the poor
fellow. He's groaning dreadful with
v his leg, and won't let me do a thing for
it; says he has got it wrapped up and
thinks it will get easier after he gets to
bed. I gave hiin some liniment for it
and he went to his room. And now
comes this disputch from Jim, and no
one to go to the station with his lunch."
"Never mind, mother; we'll fix it
somehow," answered pretty, brown-eyed
.Milly, as she bustled about, putting on
y her waterproof and overshoes preparatory
to finishing the _ chores, and the
darkness hid the rosy flush with which
I- filin ttnirl no 4-Vw? five* finl'lini#
uuw MM?V4 kitv UAOV KlttailU^ OtlUntllO Ui
inilk made music in the tin pail :
?: "Mother, I belifevc 1 can carry Jim's
f;' lunch down to him myself!"
"Mercy, Milly! I'd never dare to let
you I?the night so dark and the road so
long 'and lonely 1 No, indeed, child;
Jim would never allow it."
"I know, but it is too bad for the
poor fellow to go without his supper
this cold, bleak night, and I know every
inch of the way with my eyes shut."
Mrs. Hosmer shivered a little as she
drew her shawl closer agninst the keen
autumn blast, and one could see that
her resolution wavered a little.
"A cup of nice, hot coffee from home
would seem sort of cheerful to him,"
?lie said, in a meditating tone, "and it's
. proper kind of you to make the offer,
|?p child; but I doubt it's being safe for you
going so far alone."
"Nobody would be likely to be out
. ?uch a night as this, unless it should be
iff -some of the neighboring fanners, and
evep if there were the darkness would
hide me."
"I'm a raid to let you go, Milly. I've
heard of tramps, and?"
"I'll tell you, mother; I'll take Jim's
revolver! He left it in his room the last
?: time he was at home."
"Well," began Mis. Hosmer, doubtfully,
* though you'd never dare to use
it."
"Yes, I would, if I really needed to!"
Tespondcd Milly; "so let us call it settled,
and go in and get something nice
put up for lunch."
Really pleased down in her maternal
heart for this regard for her son's comfort,
Mrs. Hosmer gave a rcluctant cons'.
sent; for Jim was her only and almost
idolized child, little Milly being only
tne daughter of a dear dead friend
whose child Mrs. Hosmer had gladly
taken to her home and heart.
The farm was small and Jim detested
farming, so a man was always employed
on the place, while ambitious Jim risked
life and limb as an engineer. He was
now a handsome, stalwart fellow of
twenty-six, whose broad shoulders,
bronzed face, and merry eyes were secretly
enshrined in Milly's heart as her
U ideal of all that was noble and manly.
Am for Jim, he, too, had an ideal, and
often aa he sat waiting on his engine he
-V'*.: '
A-i * >} fy-. /f y V /%...;/ ; * \ '
->v; /' .
'>*" v: v^cv w^Rgft - > -n.'.,
pictured a future fireside to which he
could turn for rest instead of to his barren
boarding-house, and the woman's
face that always smiled his welcome in
its light was wonderfully like the little
picture of Milly that lie always carried
in the pocket of his blue flannel shirt.
Many a time the engine light shone over
the sweet face as it lay on his grim palm
in intervals of work, and Jim would
whisper, softly, "By and by, little girl,''
us lie carefully slipped f it back where it
beat with every beat of his heart.
"Working faithfully and steadily, secretly
laying the foundation of that ideal
home, Jim had gained the respect and
confidence of his employers and was on
the road to promotion. But his work
now was somewhat varied, and when
Hie busy season came and freight was
moving freely, he often ran a "wild
train" through liocktield, as the little
place was called, where a station had
been erected for the accommodation of
llic surrounding farmers.
On these occasions he generally sent
home a dispatch, as in the present case,
und ou return found a tempting lunch
waiting his coming, and sometimes, if
the weather was tine, got a glimpse of
Milly and his mother and a moment's
chat. His dispatch to-night read :
"Run through Itocklield to night just
ahead of ten o'clock express, reaching
there about a ouarterof ten."
"I will start only just in time to get
there as the train arrives," said Milly, as
they made the coffee and frizzled some
slices of liam; "if I walk fast I can get
there in fifteen minutes, and I don't believe
the coffee can get cold iu that
time, all wrapped up in this big bottle
and shut up in the pail."
"You might carry it in a little pail
and set it on the stove in the station till
Jim comes," suggested Mr. Hosmer.
"1 don't believe there would be a fir<
there; and besides, I woidd rather not
tro in. I can't bear Tom Kennedy's
comments or company. I shall just
stop under the poreh till the train
comes, and then I can hand Jim the
lunch-pail and slip away before any one
notices me."
"Maybe that would be best," assented
Mrs. Ilosmer, who knew how disagreeable
the attentions of the sandy-haired
young; station agent were to ner adopted
daughter. 4'But, Milly, do be careful
and take care of yourself. If anything
should happen to you I should never
forgive myself ?never! In fact, I have
half a mind not to let you go, after
all."
"What! with this for company?" said
Milly gayly, showing the revolver
clutched tightly under her waterproof;
"what a foolish mamma! Now goodbye!
I shall be back before you know
it." And with a kiss JVlilly disappeared
in the dismal drizzle with a skip, and
a good little laugh as soon as she was
out of sight at the thought of seeing
Jim.
Arriving at her destination, she softly
crept up into the shelter of a deep doorway
and looked down the track, where
sue expected even now to see the distant
light of Jim's engine. But not the
faintest gleam was visible. Surprised,
she crept along and peered in at the
clock through the station window. The
hands pointed to half-pust nine.
"That stupid old clock!" she exclaimed
petulantly, as she slipped back
to her hiding-place, "we might have
known it would be too fast or too slow;
it uever is right, ev;ept by accident.
Now Jim's coffee will be as cold as a
stone?and I too, for that matter!" she
added, shivering and drawing closer
into the corner out of the wind.
But the next moment the sound of
low voices almost at her side sent her
heart into her throat, and at the next
bound her blood flew through her veins
like fire.
"Don't turn cussed fool now," exclaimed
a gruff voice in a hoarse undertone.
"It's a little late to turn soft
hearted just when the game is ours; and
I aint no hand to put up with no nonsense,
you know that, Bill."
"I don't mean nothing?only if I was
sure there wouldn't be no women and
little children?specially little children
?ever since little Tillie died ?"
"Now bottle that!" angrily interrupted
the other, with a fierce oath.
"If I'd supposed you'd ever turn out
such a chicken-livered coward I'd seen
you starve before I'd have taken you
into this. But it is too late now; there
is a cool fiftv thousand on thnt ?\nrfss
train to-night, and I'll have it or die.
You do your part and share the plunder,
or you back down and I'll put an end to
you. But you shan't stop me?I'll see
to that, Bill."
"Jest give me a pull at the flask and
I'll be all right. I never desert a friend,
you know that, old fellow."
"All right, then," suid the other, now
molified; "let's get to work. Mike is
at his post, is he t
"Yes, jest the other side of the building.
If that station chap sets foot outside
before we've had tin;e to finish our
work Mike will send a bullet into that
sorrel top of his before you could wink.
He will meet us at the old oak ten minutes
after the train is due, and we'll be
off. Now let's go up to the cut and get
them rocks down onto the track mighty
lively. There ain't much time to spare."
As they noiselessly moved away the
man's last whisper rang in Milly's ears
like a death-knell. Sure there was not
"much time to spare!" Of course, they
knew nothing of Jim's train, that would,
within a few minutes, come rushing into
the death-trap they were to set. And
she could give no alarm. The express
never did more than slightly clack its
speed to drop some package on the platform
; no one was at the station except
t.Vift rIaatw Rornnt. A.11 iinnnnafinna r?f t rin
""IV ?? 1 ?"w ***'
terrible guard that stood beside him;
long before she could get the nearest
neighbor there it wouldjbe too late?all
these thoughts rushed like lightning
through Milly's distracted brain. There
was no one to know or to aid but God
and herself. She lifted her eyes to tho
starless sky in mute appeal, then turned
and sped like a deer through ihc darkness
toward the spot choscn for this
dreadful deed. Well was it that she
knew, as by instinct, every step of this
ground, even the very rocks piled on the
edge of the rocky gorge, that now were
meant for the crushing out of human
liftf. Only at Jim's last visit she had
walked with him here to this very spot.
New, as she approached, she heard a
heavy, grinding sound and the subdued,
panting exclamations of the men as
. . * ... " . ' i '
. ; : . ! r- ,. . Jty :V.
?A % *U
they strove to move the heavy stone* 7
from their beds.
"By the Eternal I there she comes!
they've changcd the time! Quick, now,
with this biggest one!"
Poor Milly! she knew what light was
drawing so fearfully near. Not the express,
but the engine of the man she
loved better than her own life. She
drew near to the panting, cursing men,
till she felt as if they could hear her
heartbeat, then, as they cried, "Now!
over with it!" she breathed, O Jim! my
darling, my darling!" and fired two
swift shots at the men before her.
A groan and a cry of rage told her that
she had not failed in her aim. The
train passed swiftly by below her assured
her that her lover was safe; then she
sank down in a little, quivering^heap in
the darkness. Nothing mattered now.
Those dreadful wretches might find and
tear her to atoms now if need be; she
had saved the man she loved, and that
was enough.
But in a moment, or two she rallied,
as the cool rain bent upon her face, and
rose softly to her feet. She must see
him now at all hazards; she must see and
tell him all or she could not live. She
flew over the ground like a mad creature.
Nothing held her flight until she
reached the train, where Jim's face
shone upon her from the engine cab, and
she fell with a speechless gasp beside it.
Til n. llioinpnt film WOU in lim>D nrma
some one brought brandy and dropped
upon her cold lids, and after awhile she
heard Jim's tender woids as he lichl and
kissed her, and then sat up, pale and
trembling, to tell her story.
But the express stopped that night,
and when it went on it bore with it the
two wretches who had sought to destroy
it with its precious freight of life,
and left a heavy purse for brave Milly,
a contribution from the grateful passengers
whose lives she had saved.
On going to the top of the cut the
men had been found pinioned by the
rock that they had partly lifted to hurl
upon the track below. Milly's bullet
had gone through the arm of the one
called "Bill." As his hold relaxed, the
heavy rock hnd rolled back upon their
legs, holding them both prisoners. The
second man was Pete, Mrs. Hosmer's
hired hand. Mike had disappeared.
But Milly was the heroine of many a
day, and when, soon after, she was
about to become Jim's happy wife, she
irnt. II fiilvnr tl'il SPrvirn fit for (I nrinpuss
"With the gratitude and best wishes of
the Ex. Co., for James Ilosmer's
brave wife."?ArthurHome Magazine.
WAITING FOR THE VERDICT.
The Untimely End of n Tennc?Hre 'olleclor
of Taxe*.
"I had to do it?yes, had to do it,"
he exclaimed in a Tennessee court room
to the jury. "It was a matter of selfdefence."
"Did this plaintiff here, whom you
had shot twice, draw any weapon?"
asked the lawyer.
"I don't say as he did."
"Was he about to?"
rlnn't enr oolio ?*oa 'Hnn/-! T miAan
A w MU 11 vy ?? t?0? iyv,CUj JL ^ UCOO
he didn't have no weepins with him."
"But you plead self defence."
"Sartin, I do. I went oil tliar in
township last fall We lived on sassafras
tea and lean bacon all winter. This
spring got in a few hills of corn and taters,
and I kinder got track of several
bee trees, and kept my eyes peeled fur
coon tracks. Things begun to look as if
we had seen the wust. The o!e woman
was reckonin' on a new kaliker, and I
was planum' to git my ole rifle fixed,
when when "
Here the prisoner seemed overcome
by his emotions, and it was two or three
minutes before he could continue:
"Well, I might a-knowed tha some
calamity would come along sooner or
later aud kick the skillet oil the chimbly.
I was always a poor critter?poor,
but 8trivin' to be white all the way
j through."
"Proceed," said the lawyer after the
prisoner had wept some more.
"I sot out there on a log, kinder
hopin' that the corn and taters wouldn't
| grow fast 'null to keep me from goin'
fishin', and the old woman she was
smokin' limweed in her pipe and wonderin'
if the children had treed 'nother
coon, when?when this 'ere feller what
got shot swooped down like one o' them
sighclones. All was changed in one
minit. All was?"
They let him have a few minutes to
crowd down his feenngs, and he went
on: 1
4'He didn't make any bones about it,
'tall. He axes if my name was Dan'l
Scott, and I says it was. He axes if I
owned the farm, and I gin it to him
straight. Then he pulls out a paper
and says:
44 'Dan'l, I'm cum fur.'
" 'Fur what?'
" 'The taxes.'
44 'What taxes?'
44 'State and county, Dan'l.* We can't
run this 'ere best kentry on airth and
her Liberty and Union and a Fourth of
July every year without money. Them
as owns land must pay taxes '
44 4Never!'says I. 'The tyrant don't,
live as kin put his foot on the neck of
Dan'l 8cott!'
44'But you must pay,'says he, or I'll
have to sell you out.'
44Wall, gents, that was threats. That
was drivin' me to the wall. The ole
woman begun cryin', the children cum
lip and sniveled, and corn and taters and
bee trees and coon tracks and bright
prospects all went to the dogs. I couldn't
?no I couldn't."
"Couldn't what, Mr. Scott?"
"Uall me Don'I, onless you want to
hurt my feelins. I meant I couldn't
put up with no sich threats of assassinashun.
The old woman sneaked the double-bar'ld
shotgun over the brush fence,
and I popped away, and popped to kill.
Yes. gents. I'm tellin' you the solemn
truth, and I want to ax if there's a freeborn
American citizen and Tennessee
patriot among you who wouldn't hev
did that very same?"
At last accounts the jury was still out.
"Elevator accidents kill more people
than boilor explosions do," says the
American Machinist, which wnnta a law
compelling the periodical inspoction of
pnssenger elevators, with a ctausc prohibiting
vouths under 18 years of i;gc
from operating? them made general and {
applied to freight elevators.
j - rROVcv ' "V ' - -A' ... *K S,
THE MYSTERIES OF A DAYr
STRANGE, CUllIOUM, AND MTARTL1NQ
THINGS OCCURRING AIIOUT V*.
Where the Turtle* Come From?A lleinnrknble
Htory?The V.ftun Turned to C'bieken?-The
Sen CaptalnN Ilorwe- The Baltimore
Journalist, Etc., Ktc.
Uncle Billy Adams was furnishing the
music for a gathering at the residence of
a well-known planter in Dooly county,
Missouri, given in honor of a visiting
young lady from Augusta. The night
was warm, and the windows were thrown
open. Miss Alice, weary of dancing,
noticed the bird cage hanging among
the vines which grew over the veranda,
the inmate of which was arousurl to its
sweetest strains of song by Uncle Billy's
fiddle. Tupping her finger lightly upon
the cage, Miss Alice felt the vinelmds
playing about, her hand. "My God!"
exclaimed one of the dancers, as he
looked toward the girl, "look there!"
A shriek from Miss Alice, and she fell to
the floor. As she fell a lnige snake was
seen circling down her arm from the
cage across her shoulders, and as she lay
prostrate gathered itself in a huge coil
upon licr bosom. "With its mouth wide
open, its fangs set, and pressing its head
closely to the girl's check, the moment
was one of intense excitement. The
ominous rattle was heard when Uncle
Billy's fiddle gave forth one of its liveliest
airs, and the reptile quickly crawled
olT, wriggling its way toward the music
and out of the house. "I dess knowed
dat 'ud fotch utn," said Uncle Billy, as,
he caressed his instrument. "Does
creepin' crecturs is a might fond of
music." The reptile was followed and
killed, when it was found to measure
eight feet.
A iietirkd old se a captain in the
North of England bought a horse
tit nlnncd l>!o ?fifn T1!'" ....I
ij.io n> itv. i lit u111mill
proved to be frisky, ami several
times sticceeded in spilling the old
lady. At last, the captain attempted to
break the unruly steed of his vicious
habits. He took a kedge anchor, with
a stout line, and fastening one end of
the line to the axle of his phieton, took
the kedge aboard, and the two men
started for a drive along the shore. Soon
the vicious animal spied something which
gave him an excuse to run away, and
dashed oil with frightful vivacity. The
captain dropped the reins, and summoned
all hands to let go the "anchor."
The anchor was let go, and caught firmly
in the sand. The unsuspecting quadruped
pranced joyously along until he got
to the end of the roue, and then ho
paused?paused so suddenly that the
phieton was demolished, and the two
men shot up into the air like a couple of
sky rockets, coming down in a fearfully
dilapidated condition.
The Lancaster ledger publishes the
following remarkable story: "On the
plantation of Mr. R. T. Dun lop live two
negroes whose house has lately been
showered with rocks from the skies.
This wonderful phenomenon of rocks
falling has been going on in that locality
at intervals for more than ten days, and
people for miles around gather there to
witness it. The rocks vary in size from
an egg to a eocoanut. A peculiarity
about them is that they have fallen upon
several persons without giving any hurt
or pain. A number of white men who
hooted at the idea, have visited the
place and are convinced of the truth of
the story. A number of gentlemen
rode out on Monday to witness the phenomenon.
They were not there long
before a sound on the shingles notified
them that a rock had fallen. It was
picked up and found to be quite hot. It
resembled Hint and had something on it
which resembled soot. A very honest
old darkey told a party that he saw a
rock rise un from near a neanh troe and
# i _ t
go straight up in the air."
Pkinck's Bay is full of sea
turtles. IIow the turtles came
there is explained by the fact that
a few weeks pgo several vessels came
into port at one time, bringing large
cargoes of green turtles. The result
was that the market was overstocked,
and green turtle became too cheap to
please one Yankee captain, who decided
to hold his stock for a misc. He ran
his vessel down to Staten Island, and
along the Kill von Kull found two
unused docks close together. He built
a bulkhead across the ends of the docks
and tumbled his cargo into what he
supposed was a secure pond or corral.
There were in that pen many tons of
| material for fine turtle soup, but a big
siorm swept aown from Newark Bay,
bursting the captaiu's turtle pen, and
letting his turtles escape.
Tiikhk is a journalist in Baltimore, a
I man of long experience and with habits
i almost Puritanical in their steadiness,
who spends his vacation in a very novel
manner. He is a man of family, and in
his residence there is a large and comfortable
cellar. If his family desires to'
go away he interposes no objections, but
no say8 that, as far as* ho is concerned,
he is not going to pay $3 or $4 a day
for being cooped up in a summer resort
hotel room when he has right at hand so
many facilities for comfort. So, when
his holiday comes, ho hus the cellar
thoroughly cleaned and fitted up with
sofa, easy chairs, hammocks, etc. He
collects the best things in literature, lays
in a stock of provisions and plenty of
cigars and tobacco, and for two weeks
he enjoys the luxuries of life like a
king, exiled in his own cellar.
rp?? t w iL i_ f 1-?a
M. nr* VIIIH^u ui pjiubwuiui, IU .ciigmuu,
was recently virited by a remarkable
plague of flies, which simultaneously
covered an area of one mile. At some
places it was impossible to move without
clooing the eye* and mouth. Around
every lamp in the town the spectacle was
most curious. Attracted by the light
thick swarms abounded, and their buzz,
resembled that of a hive of bees. At the
Post Offiec, where . the upper portion of
the door is open for ventilation, and
where necessarily the light is kept burning
till the early morning, the insects
covered the sorting boards, letters and
bags, and hail to be continually swept
on with brushes. At ono lamp they
simply hung down in clusters.
Tiib Cologne QazetU points out the
Curious fact that Munich has 244,000 inhabitants,
and only 11.000 citizens. To
become a regular citizen it is necessary
to pay 100 to 150 marks ($25-$87}, and
this only a small portion of the inhabitants
have done. Thmt who are not
r/PfljLifP ' v.ssf.. ' : ,.,7 * . .
* ? - s ":' /* /.v'i ... ? \ ' ' ' . .
regular citizens are obliged to pay tho
same taxes as the others, although they
are not entitled to vote on commercial
affairs. Regular citizens, in cases of extreme
poverty, are entitled to liberal pecuniary
assistance.
Tiie employees of a Chicago commission
house a few days ago were greatly
surprised at hearing the chirping of
chicks proceeding from a case of newly
received eggs they were handling. Upon
investigation a novel hatching was developed.
Snugly located in half a dozen
spaces where should have" been eggs
were young chickens. As the eggs had
been in transit by the railroad longer
than a day it is evident that the chicks
were hatched while en route to the
market. This is the first time such an
incident has been reported' in the egg
trade of Chicago, and is a new departure
in finding supplies for poultry customers
or confirmatory of the report that
the weather has been warm.
In the northern part of Nebraska an
Irish colony, called Jackson, has been
settled for twenty nine years, six of the
colonists of which are worth from $40,000
to $00,000 each. Tlicv were verv
poor when they arrived there, and were
so discouraged by the desolate appearance
of the prairie and the loneliness
and desolation, which alTected the Irish
so much that if they had the money they
would have left. Fortunately they had
not. They had come up by the steamers
from the Southern States, where they
had been digging ditches.
A fakmkk near Middlctown, N. Y.,
who was losing his potatoes by parties
digging them up at night, resolved to
watched his patch. lie and a friend
armed with guns, took a position near
the patch, but both fell asleep, and upon
awakening, found thattwo rows of potatoes
had been dug and their guns were
stolen.
THE OBEAH MAN.
Horrible SupcrwtltioiiM of the Ignorant NegroeM
of tlit? West Indie*.
[Jamaica L^ttei to Philadelphia PresB.]
Obcnh, in the West Indies, is a twofold
art?the art of poisoning combined
with the art of imposing upon the credulity
of ignorant people'by a pretense
of witchcraft. The Obcnh man or woman
is one of a great guild or fraternity
of crime. Hardly a criminal trial occurs
in the different colonics in which he
is not implicated in one way or another.
Ilis influence is unbounded, the credulous
peasantry holding him as prophet,
priest and king of the district over
which he holds sway. If a negro
maiden wants a charm to make her lover
"good to her;'' if a man wishes to avenge
a wrong, or to know the secrets of the
future, the Obcnh man is nt hand to supply
the means and to proffer his assistance
and advice.
Under the title of "bush doctor'' he
wanders from place to place at the cost
of his dupes; supplied with food by one,
with money by another, denied nothing.
TTia i^rntonci/inu nrn Viirrli Knf
means at hand to enforce them. lie declares
himself powerful to cure all diseases.
He can protect a man from the
consequences of a crime; he can even
reanimate the dead.
Ilis knowledge of poison is immense.
Every bush and tree furnishes weapons
for his armory. Unfortunately, in too
many instances, more effective agents
are not wanting to his hand. How many
planters have had poison administered
to them in their coffee; how many bookkeepers
have come to an untimely end
by the mixture of ground glass in their
food may be seen in the records of the
slave courts of the different colonies?
Barbadoes and Jamaica especially. Next
to cholera and yellow fever, Ob?ah was
the greatest danger which every white
man connected with the administration
of a sugar estate had to encounter.
There is something indescribably sinister
in the appearance of the Obeah
man, which is readily observed by persona
who have mixed much with the
negroes. Sometimes, as an outward and
visible sign of his trade or calling, ht
carries about with him a staff or wand,
with serpents wreathed about it or the
rude likeness of a human face roughly
delineated 011 the handle. Lizards'
bones, cats' claws, ducks' skulls, grave
dirt?that is, earth taken from the grave
of a freshly-buried corpse?hang in a
bag at his side. He has his cabalistic
linnL" /nlhoit Vir? /?nn onlilnm full nl
strange characters, crude figures and
roughly traced diagrams and devices,
which he pretends to consult in the ex|
ercise of his calling.
On one occasion I happened to be in a
court-house during the trial of a notorious
thief, when I noticed one of these
gentlemen enter the room; a very dirty
handkerchief was bound tighly around
his head, and from under his shaggj
brows I could see a pair of small, cunning
eyes which never took their gaze
from the face of the Judge. The pris
oner was undefended and was finallj
convicted, but I was afterward told thai
instead of employing a lawyer he had
retained for his defense this Obealr
man, and had actually paid him the sum
of three guineas for his services. Th<
wizard had undertaken to '*fix the eye'
of the Judge, and had persuaded th?
miserable dupe that this would infalli
bly secure his acquittal.
Yonng Girls and Skating Rinks.
A man writes to a New York paper ai
follows:
Chief of Police John Y. McKane 01
Coney Island-said to me while speaking
of the number of girls between th?
ages of 14 and 10 who have been arrested
on the Island by his officers foi
disorderly conduct and othei
offenses: It is a fact, that mj
private book will substantiate that nini
out of every ten of these girls upoi
private questioning by me, date then
,fall from the time they commenccd t<
frequent skating rinks.
This is no exaggeration. I used t<
think, when I read of clergymen and
others denouncing the rinks for the im
morality that was bred there, that tin
rinks were harmless, and that thos<
fgentlemen were inclined to sensations
ism. Now from the stories told me b}
these young girls, right here in mj
private office, I can appreciate th<
truth of their remarks ana realize thi
danger that surrounds the young femali
in such resorts. I esteem this fact or.
such importance that I think it ough
to be known.
* 1 ???*+mm?
TALMAGE IN THE PULPIT.
Saflcrinfr for Other*.
The usual overflowing congregation
greeted I)r. Talmage on Sunday inorning.
His text was Hebrews, xix., 22?
"Without the shedding of blood there is
uo remission."
Dr. Talmage said that the poet Whittier
asked him iu the White Mountains
if there is a fountain literally filled with
blood. The answer was in the negative,
and Dr. Talmage went on to say that
the people who do not want what they
call "slaughter house religion" are too
ignorant to look through a figure of speech
into the great truth behind it. If mpn
depended upon the literal blood oi
Christ for salvation, there would not
have been a soul saved in eighteen centuries.
Some people, said the speaker,
are shocked at the idea of an innocent
person suffering for another, yet I can
show you five hundred cases of the substitution
in suffering for another to-day
in this city. All the sacrifices and suffering
in business, all the sleepless nights,
tho aching brains and agonizing insomnia
are that loved ones are comfortable
and happy at home. Of the ten business
men I bury nine die of overwork for
others. The mother who has buried
three children sits up through long
nights to save Iter only remaining child,
and it recovers; but reaction comes, she
sinks and dies from prostration?giviug
up her life for her beloved one. The
mother far away in the country gives
her fortune, her prayers, and her life for
the reformation of her wayward son, hei
last words breathing of sacrifice and
love as she whispers "Oh, my poor boy!"
The thousands and tens of thousands of
soldiers in the army who suffered on
fields of battle and died mangled and
unknown, gave their lives for their
country. The physicians who left fame
and fortune to aid those suffering from
the horrors of yellow fever arc examples
of Christian sacrifice. "VVm. H. Seward
became illustrious for his delcnce of a
helpless negro idiot condemned for murder.
Kuskin arose to greatness by his
chivalric devotion to the painter 'urncr,
iong despised and maligned by the art
critics of England. But all these illustrious
examples of self-sacrifico, and all
the noble acts of the patriarchs and
apostles fail to express the infinite idea
expressed in the text, because Christ is
the one perfect example of sacrifice.
Christ came down from a heavenly
TI:., . ?i...J.?i. it.
II1UIIV cuiu oat KJII inn UWli 1UUIMWU1 , XTC
descended from celcstial glory into the
valley of humiliation; lie left honor fot
shame. lie was attended by angels was
mocked by brigands. But out of that
sacrifice came victory for all humanity.
The weakest and most despised of mankind
were made heirs of the heavenly
crown?inheritors of immortality and
partakers of life everlasting. "Life for
life, blood for blood?substitution," was
the epigrammatic peroration closing each
of Mr. Talinage's sentences.
A Modern Fabie.
There was at one time a good old man
living in Carlisle. His back was bent,
his step was slow, and men who gazed
upon,his snowy locks and wrinkled face
whispered to each other : "He is a
good old man, who has not long to live."
The old man had been well off in his
day, but when he found himself on the
i snaay siae, wiie acaa ana home broken
up, he said to his j-on: "William, take
all that 1 have, and let your homo be
my home until I die." The son took the
all, and the father was given a cozy corner,
a big chair, and a pipe. Everything
went well for a year or so, and
then the son and the son's wife began to
make it uncomfortable for the old man
in the corner. They threw out hints,
deprived him of his comforts, and one
cold day in winter he was told he had
better go elsewhere. The old man's
heart was sore as he went out into the
world to battle against hunger and cold,
and when night came he cowered in a
doorway and wept like a child. "Who
is making that row up there?" asked a
rej>orter, whose steps had been arrested
by the sobs, and he went up the steps,
petted the old man on the head, and by
and by the story was told. "Come down
to the station with me," said the reporter,
taking the old man's arm. "Your
son is a brute, and I'll help you to fix
him." Next morning one of the daily
papers contained an item to the effect
that an old gentleman named Goodheart
had been found wandering about the
streets at night, and when taken to the
station-house two thousand pounds'
? aU l 1. i r J m-? ?
nuiui ui uitim uuivs wuru iouiiu uu miuv
The old man rend it over three times,
slapped his leg as he saw the point, and
a beautiful smile covered his face, and
climbed up through his hair. In about
an hour his son William rushed into the
station, and called out, "Father, dear
father, come homel All of us were crying
all night long, and my wife is lying
in a comatose state on your account."
The old man went home with him, winking
at the lamp-posts, and smiling as he
turned the corners.. He had all his
comforts back, and his son bought him
a costly pipe and a pair of fur slippers
that vory day.
"Snowshoe" Thompson's Grare.
The Carson (Nev.) Index relates this
story: Mrs. John Scoss, the widow, of
j'Suowshoe'' Thompson, last 8aturaay
| had a tombstone placed at his grave in
| the Genoa cemetery. At the top of the
' stone a pair of snowshoes, twelvo inches
in length, standing one across the other,
| are besutifully carved. John A. (Snowshoe)
Thompson was a native of NorI
way, and departed this life May 15,
! 1876, at the age of forty-nine years and
sixteen days. His son and only childv
who died in June, 1878, at the age of
j eleven years, now rests by his side.
Snowshoo was known far and near as
the mountaineer who used to fly across
the lofty Sierra on snowshoes the winter
through, carrying the mail between this
section and California. It is said he
rcccivou na mgn as f<> per leccor as compcnsation
for bringing the mail over tho
mountains when the winter storms wcro
raging.
I "Ark your domestic relations agreeable?"
was the question put t-o au unhappy-looking
specimen of humanity.
"Oh, my domestic relations aro all
right,"was the reply; "it's my wife's iclations
that are causing the trouble."
> 1
' , ^ f*
v* -^v'AiS