Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE LEDGER: GAFFNEF, S. C., OCTOBER 15, 1896. 3 . ON OLD ROCKY. Tho Poop^i Aro Natural and tho Poop^p Aro Human. A “Variegated fool’’ in Love with • Young America 1 Woman—Kanaj on the Hainan lAaln—In tho Val ley and thK Shadow*. If it wafit from tha «ly murried, and if I , tliat I am al- diA’thnve what seenS^o me like the hestiV^nmin in the world, what you reck on I would do this beautiful Sunday morn- in? I w o ul d wneh my love ly countenance, climb ri#tot up into my Sun- dny-go-to-meet- in clothe*, sprinkle a few cinnamon drape on my wayward, wanderin locks ami pitch out and /fo n courtin over to the old Pollard place. For why? There is a youn/r lady over there which coukl chnn/fc her name syid administer on the Sanders estate before tho sun went down if she wanted to. Miss Susie Bell Pollard is her name, and you moug-ht ride three days and nights before you could And more good, pure womanhood done yo in one bundle of dry goods. ^ One Fool on Her String, IVhitoj>eoitk\ did you ever take any pnrtlclar notice of a natural-born blame fool in love with a rale handsome woman? If you never did there is yet a whole possle for you to learn in regards to the ways ami moons of the human race. It never was no trouble for Miss Susie Bell Pollard to catch a beau. All she ever had to do was to put on the halt and fling out her hook and pull cm in, eomin and a gwlno. Blamed If I haven’t seen her out at picnics and par ties and candy pullins nnd protracted meetins and the like of that, with the boys so thick around her till she put me in mind of the band wagon on ft cir cus day. Understand me now, I couldn’t blame the boys for that. Xo doubt if I had lieen a boy myself about that time I would have been the lend dog of the pack. But along in the fall of last, year Miss Rnsie Bell caught a natural-born fool on her string—which, of course, if want her fault, nnd nobody eoukln't blame her for that. Cialx* Rankins is the cnlycat son of old man Bum Hankins ami his wife, nnd they are tremendins well fixed in the way of this world’s goods. The old man has got land on top of land oil the way from Murder Creek to Caney Branch, ami the general talk around amongst the people is to the extent that he is like wise also plum lousy with cash money. L\nd ns to the old Rankins stock of lepple, they have nil got sense enough fo eat wh< n they are hungry, nnd go to lad when they get tired, nnd save money. But Andy I.ucns was wobblin around |>owerful dost to the hull’s eye when he g!va it out over at the cross roads one day that the youngmnn Cnbe was way out on a back sentwhen they handed round the brains. Well, you rnh.y couldn’t blame Gabo for that. And neither could you blame the old folks for linvln a fool In the family. He couldn't hi Ip It, nnd they coujdn’t hdp jt. You couldn't blame nobody. There wxts nobody to-hlame. The big break come in w hen old man Bum took up a notion that he could run his hand dow n into his flank pocket and take his money and do what the good Bord, In His own good time and way, didn’t do—make n few brains and put cm In Gabo’s head. The human brn'n, fellow citizens nnd friends, is n powerful skccrcc and pccurlous thing. Tin* world don't give it, money won’t buy it and colleges can’t make It. Pdcss Hod for that. Old man Bum has l»cot k" clean out of sight in regards to Mh .money on general lines. But It Kvould of l>ccn money In his flanks If he had only come over to see me nlxiut that college business. But tho old man had tlie money, nnd Gal>e he want to college. When the money was gome and Gabo come lock home he had a few fancy eollcge clothes ntvd yet no brains to sj>enk of. If any thing he was a bigger fool—or more dif ferent sorts of a fool—w hen lie got back than when he went nwuy. I never will forge' the little piece of good advice which Blev Scroggins give him the flr^t time they met up together after Gnbe’s return back from college: “Been off to college, have you, Gnbe?” “Yes.” “Didn’t git lost, gw Inc or eoniiii’?'' “No.” *‘0ot back safe and sound ooest jnore ?" “Yes.’’ “Bully for you, Gain*. Go ami ellmbn tree, row, ond fall out nnd break ymir n<vk,” nomcthlnr Unit to "DTOfv'’ The next Sunday, it would secin.Gnbc crawled into his fine college clothes and put out and went over the creek to see Miss Susie Bell Pollard. Anti r.nturj'ly, of com we, he feel luols over appetite In love with Miss Susie Bell. Well I couldn’t blame him for tint. 1 think a whole passlcof tlKitglrl myself—J'.st as much as the law allows. But Gnlie, he didhnvcutremejKllusbadcnse of It. The more he sow of Mias Suale Bell the more he wanted to hco. The more l** went over to the old Pollard place, the more he w onted to go. It wn* ever} Himdny for n time, and then one night in the week for pood mcnnire. Finally, at last, it was every Sunday the Bord sent nnd two or three nights in th* week till (»<vl)c Rankins was stickin more closer to <h“ old Pollard place than n sick kitten t:> a hot Brick. He wn;‘ there so rcglnr and f > frequent nnd so eoiMtant, and cut such a furious high dash with fUIs college clothes on till fiveol hur hoys \Jold ilow ii their hands gradually by dc- gracu and quit the game. In tho main time anybody could hoc, with one eye shot, tluit Miss Susie Bell —kind-hearted and patient nnd long- sufferin as she waa—was weary of life nnd tired to death. All along for the last six months I have been lookin for somethin to git. ripe and drap. It come to pass on Friday night before the last third Sunday—over at the old Pollard place. Gabe Rankins was there. 1 was not there. But two or three days J after that Miss Susie Bell was over to | our house. I could tell that somethin had come to pass the minnit she lifted | the latch and eomo In the front gate— I she dkl look so freah nnd happy nnd brigllt and rested like. She put me In mind of a yofteg colt which had slipped the bridle nnd turned herself loose In a big pastor. And she didn’t tarry around there long before she up nnd told me nnd mother the latest news— which was to the general extent that everything wn« over ns between her and Gnbe Rankins. ARP ON AARON BURR. Patriarch Carnochan Makoo tho Philosopher Rotroopoctivo. Write* of Hu mil ton's Sluycr—Son of I’rlnce- ton’* First I'rcHldcnt Denounced ClirlHtlanity — Father Was a Great Preacher, The Same Old Etory. “If he had told me he. loved me otiest, I reckon he had told me the same thing 40,000 times,” says she. "But to save my life I never conltl respond back to him accordin. He had went oft' to col lege ami wore flue clothes, hut he was such a mortal, monstrous fool. The Ranklnscs have got plenty of money, and I can tsee w herein money would be a mighty nice thing to have In the fam ily, But Gabe he is such a variegated fool. He told me I was an angel on the earth—w hich, of course, anybody ought to know better than that—and it showed to me Hint lie was either a fool for the want of sense, or couldn’t tell tho truth with a rest. I uint nobody's angel so far na I know. I don’t even make out like I am sproutin any wings ns yets I am nothin more and nothin less than a young American womn.n in tho plain and rcglar w ay. If I ever do git to be an angel—which 1 ho/x; nnd trust I may in tho future hereafter— bless goodness I won’t need any of these mutton-headed youngsters in my busi ness. I give out my private opinions ‘along that line to Gabo, but it was like sayin your Sunday school lesson to a lazy mule, “By-and-by he told me how It would Jest naturally kill him to give me up— that he would die a slow and terrible death If I didn’t marry him. To be certainly, of course, I didn’t want to break over tho ten commandments nnd kill anybody. Yet still at the same time I felt like it would bodneiously kill mo if I had to mix clothes through good and bad reports with such a unanimous fool ns Gnbe. Bless gracious, a man that didn’t have no better sense than to turn loose and die for an;, - livin human wom an on top side of the green earth—w ell, Susie Bell Pollard never w as cut out to flt into a weddin match with that sort of a man. So at last I told him I w ns mighty sorry, but the deed would have to be did. I had one consolation, any how—I lowed if 1 killed him in a cir cumstantial way they never could prove it on me in the county court. “But bless your sw eet I He, honey, Gnbe didn’t keel over and die. He poked oft home and come back the next.night. He come in sighin and cryinnnd blub berin and gain on pow erful. I w as good and tired by this time, but 1 had to stand and take it as best I could. I stood everything till the idiot ft il down on his knees and went to beggin me. That was really more than my sad and weary ligart could bear, I hauled off once to spit on him, and I did nt last tell him if he didn’t git up nnd goon home I would sick the dogs on him. And he went. “They tell me that for a common thing women arc better than men. I don’t know so much about that. But one thing I do know-1 ain’t a blessed bit better than the common run of women, nnd I don’t reckon I nm so nw ful much better than the right sort of men. Anyhow, I don’t w ant no grown man cryln and sighin nnd kueelin and proyln around me. If I ever do git mar rlod—which I hope and trust I will in the fullness of time —give me a man a* good ns I am, nnd one that could tell the difference between a plain young American ’woman and a snow-white angel.” In the Volley nnd Ehnclovra. But the very nextdny after Miss Susie Bell came over to our house and talked a little bit and said a whole lot we got some pad nnd suddent news fnom the old Bollard place. From general up- pennnenta It would seem like Gabe had made out like he was goincrazy—which cvcryliody says he wouldn’t have no king journey to make. But he didn’t Jay down and die accordin to tho prom ise he hud made Miss Susie Bell. In- stid of that he had brought the old man Bum down into the valleys and shadows of death, whihrt the old Indy Rnnkinq was fluttcrln around on the outer edge* of despair. Right here I will have to switch off long enough to tell you that when the good Bord made Gnbe Rankins—sense or no senoe-—lie made him long for this world. Some jicopio, you under stand. jest naturally run to brains whilst others run to legs, nnd Gabe Rankins he is one of the others. Nobody was there to tell the story straight, and ns to Gabe he never did know- anything for certain. But at any rates that night he had a bad dream or a flt, or a nightmare rid him in his sleep, and unbeknowunce to everybody he straightened out them long legs too quick and suddent nnd kicked the bed down. The general noise and smash- up woke old man Bum, nnd he didn’t know but what his own and onlyest .son Gabe IiikI blowrd things up witli a kag of powder. Conaequentiaily he went tenrin in there to see what was •what and w ho was who. In his big hur ry. and in the dark nnd terrible confu- sionmenf, he run headforemost into the door jam and fractured his skull. They now think he will pull through by the hair of his head and the skin of his teeth, ns it were, but hi* had a scnndloua clout call. ntTpra banders. —The letter F, while old, is obscure In origin and history. I fhu) that my old friend, Sam Car nochan, of Rome, hn.s recently celebrat ed his 8Gth .birthday. He is still hale nnd hearty and loves to talk to his friends about the good old times. lie is a harness maker by trade, and perches on his stool and btlks while he works and feels tho feeling of an honest, In dustrious mau. Apprenticed to the trade when ho w aa 14 years old, he Imvs continuously pursued his calling for 70 years, and in all that time I do not sup jKise that he ever defrauded any man. I have never heard him complain of his lot or of hard times. I never heard him abuse anybody more than to say: “He sliould not have done that. It Is wrong. What a pity; what a pity.” And yet he is n man of opinions and convictions nnd does not hesitate to express them. How came old Father Carnochan to be so Industrious and work so hard and live so long and enjoy life and have good health? He says lie reckons it just hap pened so, but my opinion is that his curly habits had much to do w-ith it. For seven years he was "bound out,” ; as wo used to call it. Bound to a sad- i dler and harness maker in New York | city to learn (be trade. That used to lie common at the north, nnd I liave known some cases In the south in the long ago, but not many. My father had nn orphan boy bound to him for seven years, and the covenant was board and clothing nnd two months’ schooling every year and $200 in money at. the end of his time. He was smart, handsome nnd willing, ami made a good merchant and married well. Mr. Carnochan says he had to work diligently, nnd by the time his term was out, the habit of work was fixed upon him nnd kept him out of mischief. There is the secret. But few of our boys have formed a habit of work. If they do any at all, they look upon it as a hardship. Tiie old man say* that Aaron Burr traded at their shop, and ho remembers him well, a handsome, courtly old gen tleman dressed in tip-top fashion and with manners like Bord Chesterfield. Years lie fore lie had l>oen forced to leave the country and lived in exile,but he came back when the storm blew over nnd he was such n great lawyer that he soon got lots of practice and made lots of money. He drove fine horses nnd was a high-born aristocrat and never lost a minute's sleep aboutkilling Ham ilton. I wnc: reininoting about that, for there Is no story like it in American biography. Tho young people ought to rend it. Hie father’s name was Aaron Burr ami he waa a very learned and pious prenc-h *r and teacher. He was founder and Irst president of Prince ton college, nnd is buried there, nnd six ether presidents are buried near him. He married Fsther, the only daughter of Jonathan Edw ards, the great preach er and profound thinker. A man whose sermons made the people tremble and cry out and beg for mercy. The younger Aaron hud a sister named Esther, and these two were left or phans at an early age. They had a good estate nnd the best of guardians, nnd received a good education. Aaron was sent to Princeton, where he grad uate! with distinction. It was cx- peeted that he, too, would lx* a preach er, but he suddenly astounded his friends by denouncing Christianity as a humbug, and declared his admiration for Bord Chesterfield, whom, he said, was the finest gentleman in the world. Then ho studied law, nnd soon became the top of the profession. When the revolutionary war was Impending he was given a high position, and became an inmate of Gen. Washington’s fam ily; but he did not like Washington’s steady habits ami religions principles, and left him. At the close of the war he married a wealthy widow—a Mrs. Provost, an accomplished and pious Christian woman. She became the motluer of Theodosia, celebrated in her day for her beauty and her graces of mind and heart, and universally la mented for her sod and mysterious fate. The only child, n son, died when he was 13 years old, and she herself wit* lost nt sea but a few weeks after; no one ever heard of the vessel after it sailed from Charleston. There are many stories about it liming been poized by pirates and Theodosia with other pas sengers being made to walk the fatal plank that dropped them into tbc Fx*a. Not long before th/s wid event Burr had forced Hamilton tofiqht a duel with him, and killed him, not only w ithout regret, but w ith unfeigned satisfaction. This put him under the ban, nnd he had to fly to avoid arrest. He fled to Carolina, where hisdnughtcr lived. She had married Joseph Alston, one of South Carolina’s best citizens, and w ho after wards became governor of the stute. Burr was the vice president of the United States when ho killed Hamilton. After this he conceived a great political scheme to found n limited monarchy in the southwest, with New Orleans ns the seat of government, nnd he was to be the monarch. Ills treasonable de signs were d is covered, and he was ar rested nnd tried, and barely escaped conviction. Theodosia saved him through her pleadings, her devotion and her fnecinating beauty. But bucIi was the public temper that he had to exile himself nnd escape to Paris, w here he lived for several years under the assumed mine of Aritot. When he dart'd to return he resinned the prac tice of law in New York, and soon be came entangled in many smiulals and intrigu.is. When ho was 70 years old he was still l.cindsqme nnd engaging, and ro beguiled u French couutcitH of great wealth that she married him. Uc wasted her money no lavishly that she separated from him in a short time and he was left penniless. Ills few' friends abandoned him and he died ilegraded and disgraced at the uge of four score years. In his last days lie lend the Bible anew—mul and pou- dertd, and with sadness and contrition raid: “There is the most perfect sys tem of truth the world has ever seen.” WhAt a life, what a record, what a wreck of great talents, nnd nil because he forsook tho teachings of his noblo- Christian ancestors and became a rcoffer, nn infidel, o Cbcsterfh Id. What bitter memories—what anguish he must have felt in his Inst daye—his last- hours. when he begged to be buried at Princeton by the grave of his father. Verily it seems like Providence followed him w ith an avenging hand and heaped misery upon him nil his life. And my old friend Carnochan mw that man and heard him talk and felt magnetized by his presence—and ho wws old enough to vote for Jaclcron for proa 1 dent and since then hn« voted for 17 presidents. What a world of mem ories the old man has. You can’t alarm him with fears of the nation going to ruin through the currency question. Ho has heard the cry of ruin too long and too often. It makes him smile to h«*ar the boys talk ruin now. It Is the same, old tocsin that pealed the alarm In Jackson’s day, when the United States bank was demonetized, and he remembers tl®t. It was a bigger fuss than this, he says, though there wasn’t so many people nor so many newspapers to make. It. The old man came south in his early manhood and rode on t he first nnd only railroad of any length that had then been built. He is a concord ance, a chronology, an antiquity. Thero are some older men, but not many who are. ns bright, as genial, as •on- tented. His long life of industry is an object lesson to the rising generation, and I hope they will see It and think of it. He has done no big thing to givo him fame or fortune, but he has fought a good fight and set a good example. Pence to you, my old friend. May you keep on living until you are tired and then depart in pence.—Bill Arp, In At lanta Constitution. LIVED UNDER THE GROUND. THE RISING GENERATION SamJonos Draws a Picture of tho Children of America. Kentucky Bachelor Once Crossed In Lore Took Revenge on Illm*elf. He was a Kentuckian, stopping at an uptown hotel. At the same time ho was not six feet toil, he was not chew ing tobacco, he was not twirling a cork screw in hij fingers and he was for sound money. “You know,” he was raying, “that in many parts of Kentucky there are won derful caves. Of course we ail know of Mammoth cave, and yet there are some quite as remarkable as that, and possi bly ns deep, if, indeed, they are not ports of It, and one can go from one end of tho otate to the other under tho ground. Several towns have caves un der them, and in Bowling Green the sewerage of one section of the town in simply the eaves beneoth, and if the householder wants a sink or pool for receiving the waste water from his bouse he simply drills a hole into the ground until he breaks through the rock into the cavity below, and he has what he wants. “In Mammoth cave are houses where consumptives lived in hopes of cure, ami so on, with a list of cave curios, hut the oddest one I know of is an old bachelor who has made his home In one of these caves near a thrifty in terior town. He is a man of CO odd now and for more years than I can re member he has lived in this hole in the ground. The romance is that when he was a young man he was in love with a girl who refused to marry him because there was Consumption In his family and her re-fufial crazed him and drove lihn clear to the ground, so to speak. “Whether she refused him on that ground I do not know, but It is true that lie was threatened with consump tion and began to try his life under ground, there being a fine cave on his father’s farm. Here he fixed himself a dwelling-place, which wns to all in tents and purposes a house, for it was built of wood and celled throughout. The cave was perfectly dry, and so the house wns, and tho temperature being always the same, It was not such a bad place, to live In, When the young man first took to tlie cave he had learned the trade of shoe-making and this he has kept tip all these j’cars, having a shop near hio house. “Since the introduction of electric lighting he has had things much better down his way, ami, being a studious man, he has found plenty of time to im prove his mind. He isn’t a brfc of a crank, ami whenever the weather is pleasant ho comes out and goes around town attending to whatever busineos he may have on hand nnd making calls on his friends. A colored man does Ids cooking for him and takes core of hi* house, does his marketing, calls for and delivers his cobbling and shoe work. He Is a beautiful workman, nnd makes quite a comfortable little sum out of It to odd to what ho gets In rent for his farm, for he is the only survivor of the family. It is a rare tiling to sec him on tho streets In win ter, and t hen only on the balmiest days, and he never comes out in the summer time.”—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. A Bad Mistake. A former minister to the United States from Argentine found great difli- culty in learning tho English language. “I make often many meestake,” bo said, “when I speak Americano. I make a bad blunder the last time I a.’n received nt the white house. A beat.- t.iful ladoo tell me something which happened In your civil war. She say she set* It. Now, I think to myself, I will be polite and make the senora a grand compliment. “ ‘It is impossible that you see It, madam,’ I Buy. ‘You must have been born many, many years before the war.’ “All the. time,” ho added, “I meant after the war. But I made a meestake. I say before. No, Ih© ladee was not pleased. She felt much oontempt. H — Washington Post. The tipper and Lower ClH**rs of Society— Effort* of Alleged Culture — How American Clvtllxatlon I* to B« Perpetuated. Civilization ns history shows it is like a road In the hill country, np and down. Ixirn in poverty and ignorance, and dying in affluence nnd pleasure; thus the history of the past is but the history of the rise and fall of nations. However from the high tide of each nation some thing has been preserved to add to our permanent progress. The question often arise*, will our mngniiicient civilization go on to jierfection or rot at tho top, like other civilizations. The hope of a . country is in her succeeding genern- I tions. The boys and girls of to-dny are the men nnd women of the next genera tion. We may read In our children the future of our nation. As my children begin to take position as citizens, this question becomes more interesting to me. TIIE CHILDREN OF AMERICA! When I liegin at New Orleans on the gulf, 1 find the steps-, of the foreign part of the city crowded with French nnd Italian children, ns distinctly foreign in looks, language and habits, ns if born in France and Italy. When 1 come np Into the cities nnd towns of Alabama. Georgia nnd Mississippi, and find the cabins in the negro quarters jammed together nnd ns full of negro children ns n cheese is of fdcippers; and when 1 find the old farm residences of ante-bel lum days deserted by the whites, who have moved into the towns and cities, nnd literally full of negro children, all of whom are growing up almost ns ignorant as if in the heart of Africa; when 1 go to the northern nnd eastern cities, nnd find the crowded jxirtions of the cities made up of foreign popula tion, with foreign languages and habits, and almost every home crowded with children; when I add to this the fact that the saloon get* its heaviest jiatron- sge from these classes and consequently these children are born into the world part drunkards by heredity; nnd when I add the other fact that these children are without homes, with no religious training, turned loose in streets and alleys as scavengers of all the impure things about them, drinking, stealing, gambling, cursing nnd lewd ness, on every hand, I confess the picture is not encouraging to me. In the face of tiliis picture i« another fact, that in the homes of the more cul tured Americans there are few chil dren to be found, and to wliat is called high society, child-bearing is becoming a reproach, nnd children are nn acci dent and a nuisance, guarded against by infernal medical skill. I ask you ns a thoughtful citizen to get into your buggy, and drive down lihe leading street* of your city, tlhon in the Ixick streets, and count the children. Turn look forward 20 j’enrs and count citi zens and voters. Hut ns dark as this picture looks., I am candid to -ay I have as much hope in the lower classes ns I have in what is called the highest class of society. I have very little hope in either. My hope is in the middle elans. So far as making useful citizens is con cerned, I had about as soon risk the ig norance and neglect of the slums ns i Ik* card table, wine (nipper, dance and thea ter of the upper aleuss., The United States is taking some inter est in stock raising ami in amusements. We are raising well-bred horses, cows, hogi and dogs. Wo have journals on horee breeding, journals on dog breed ing, nnd on cattle breeding. I think it would be well to have some more good literature on the breeding of children. I do not think our ancestors came from tho monkey, but I do think w© hod better block up the road that leade to the razor-back hog. The coun try seems to be headed that way. I notice from the papers that oil our schools and colleges are fuller this juar than usual. This is a good Indi cation, but the boys ami girls arc lo- 6ated in college boarding houses nnd private families, away from the kind and salutary Influences of tho mother. The bad our children get away from homo at school, mixed with the good they get, makes in many cases a doubt ful compound. The higher colleges arc going to “seed” in amusement “clubs” nnd “teams” and secret societies. “Col lege yells” are becoming more prom inent than college honors. The average eollcge boy who can wear toothpick shoes, part his hair in the middle, set his hat on the back of Ids head, belong to a “team” and give tho college “yeli” seems to be satisfied with himself, pro vided his daddy foots the bills. In many eases the daddy had better foot the boy. Thank God there are many schools where girls nnd boys may secure the very best training of head and heart. It seems that every fad and new inven tion is bidding for our boys ami girls. The ballroom and the bicycle bid for our modesty. Moonlight bolls and moonlight bicycle parties bid for our purity. Sunday bicycle excursions, street ears, parks, lake* and pavilions bid for our Sunday-school boys nnd girls. Social clubs, dances and cards take our boys from home at night. The various tricks of trade bidding for the honesty of our boys, the cigarette, the saloon, the card table, the bicycle clubs and ball 'teams bid for their health nnd morals, nnd tlie boy who runs the gaunt let to-day nnd makes a clean, boneat business or professional man is the rare exception. Tlie hope of tho country lies In tho few homes where, by the family altar and proper restrictions nnd care the boya nnd girls are raised for God, the church and a successful businesa life. Has our civilization reached Its ze nith? With our eyes turned backward in all ages nnd in all nations, the hand* writing has appeared upon tho wall. Not only nt the feast of Belshazzer, but at the downfall of Home, the min of Jerusalem and the decay of Greece; when Imagination takes the field and* wo look at tho rapid strides in tho last half century, of science and art, of mechanism nnd mind, we frequently ask ourselves tihe question: "What vantage ground the Nineteenth century will have for it* rapid strides and de velopment towards perfection?” Men only are the masters of the situation, as men only are tho authors of the ad vancements we have already made. Al ready there is a dearth of statesmen; a dearth of great preachers; u dearth of philosophers. Already one is forced to ask the question: Jins manhood, nnd ehnrnrte.r kept pace with the times? 1 would Feorn the pessimistic view, which snj’s: America has reached her zenith, nnd soon will begin to decline; but it is a fact, nevertheless, that tho rising generation seems to be illy equipped to gather the world in hand and carry it on to manly contest nnd nobler achievements. We hn ve too many dudes nnd dudinee; too many bums nnd thugs; too many idle boys and giddy girls; too many millionaires nnd too few men, to con template the future without concern for its welfare. When right rhall mlo nnd character shall outrank everything, nnd God shall reign above gold, and we shall make the ndvaneeir.er.t of our race, the manhood of our boys nnd the nobility of our girls the chief aim. and then mnke ever} - thing else secondary to this, we can Fay that the American civilization is but at its dawn, and tho noontide of its day shall lx* more glori ous than the dreams of her old men nnd the poetry of our nation can paint it. Bet us, then, pay nttcntYm to the things that lie nt. the very basis of all that is good end true and noble in cliar- netcr. for the perpetuating of noble character in the generations which shall follow ns forms the very basis of immortality hero and hereafter. SAM P. JONES. CARISBROOKE’S DONKEY. Ho HoUtfl Water from the Well of the CatUlo o:i the Isle of Wight. A little knot of people slowly gath ered outside tho wooden door of the tiny stone hut, patiently awaiting their turn to enter. Despite rain and the discomfort of standing in a puddle un der dripping umbrellas, we were eager ns Dotty to see “the wheels go round.*’ Presently we heard a bolt draw back, the solid old door creaked open on ita hinges, and we walked into a one- roomed cabin. Almost at the back, in the middle, was the old well. In ap pearance it resembled most other wells, being merely a dark hole surrounded by a stone guard, around which had been placed a two-stepped wooden platform. Over the well was the usual arrange ment of ropes and n bucket. When tho keeper, or showman, rather, had care fully locked the door again, lie mounted the steps, and began in a slow, monoto nous voice: “This well is 700 years old. It is al most 200 feet deep—175 feet down, and 25 feet of water. It has never been known to go dry. It would take a man too long to wind the bucket tip, :x> wo have it (Ioik* this way. t ome, 'Jacob!’ ” l\e turned in the direction in which the showman had called, and saw that a huge wooden wheel, about 25 feet in diameter, had been put alongside the well, and arranged in such a manner that its axle formed the lienm around which the buokct-rojic was coiled. The wheel ami a tiny space to the left was partitioned oft by a low railing, and in this inclosurc stood a small but wise-looking donkey. He had a very laa-gc* head, enormous ears, and a fat, round little body. While keeping one eye on the shew man, he playfully thrust his head over the rail, and with his teeth seized an, apple from the hand of an unwary countryman who waa gazing at the hanging rope. However, on hearing the words “Come, Jacob!” his donkeyship immediately dropped the apple, assumed a business-like air, and entering the w heel, began to trot. The wheel revolved fairly rapidly, and looked much like that in a Equirrel’s cage, on a large, scale. When Jacob thought it about time for the bucket to come up, he stopped, and glanced round to see how much rope hud been wouud up, and then continued his trotting. After doing this tw o or three times, he finally gave an extra spurt, and upon seeing the bucket appear, jumped out of the wheel before tho man had time to call to him. Jacob stood quietly by, panting a lit tle, and gazing with interest at us toseo if we properly appreciated his feat. We each were offered a glas* of tho clear, sparkling water, and then a lighted candle placed in a stand was lowered to enable us, by looking over the curb, to judge the depth of tho well. —Edith V. B. Matthews, in SL Nicholas. HI* Llttlo JoRo. An English comedian was traveling some few years ago from Ipswich to Cambridge. The train w as a slow one> and the journey In consequence very tedious. When Bury St. Edmund's wns reached the comedian wn* thor oughly worn out at the length of time the train wa* delayed at the station. Calling a porter, he asked in a very bland manner for the station-master, who, all ]K)litencss, bustled up in a very busy manner to the door of the carriage in which sat the actor, look ing ns solemn a* a Judge. “What is it, Bir?” asked the official. “At whnt time is the funeral to take place?” inquired the comedian. “Funeral, sir! whese funeral?” asked the wondering station-master. "WhoHe funeral!” continued tho actor. "Why, have we not, come to Bury St. Edmund’s?” Exit stntion-muster in a huff.—Chica go News. Not Ncrdcd nt ’I lino*. “Do you find it necessary to drink coffee at night tokeepyourself awake?” he usked for no particular reason ex cept that the conversation seemed to bo lagging. “It depends oa who’* coming to call,” she replied w ilh n yawn. And for two days he scow led every time timt remark recurred to him.—Chicago Post.