The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, September 06, 1894, Image 4
- AN AVERAGF. MAN*
A ealistic story
Vitbout, any gush or rdory
-With no sentimental 1i1zeligh3
' And no firowork display. -
Bout a poor old iguorani'us
Who was never rich nor fanon!, ,
And -who couldn't. iguite the rlNr'
And who worked out by the dA,
A ,erv common feller
Was this Ebenezer Weller.
*-Nith the usual shIare of virtue;
And with vices tvwo or t bree;
E'd no fatal gift of beauty.
but an averago sense of 6i'v.
SNteither very good nor e% ii
. Just about like you and mie.
Ard he -wed an averAg woman,
Very nice and vt ry buinan.
Just about lile Evenezer.
.Neither very g. od nor bad;
Oft in barmonNy thev'd warble.
Often they would scold and squabble,
but they loved each other dearly.
And they couldn't continue usad
Kever had enongh on Monday
To supply the bouse till buIday
Never made enough in April
To 2upport t bemiselves in May ;
If they worked hard in Novenler.
They uust work hard in Deceuibr.
And the enarse breaRd of to-morrow
Was the hard work of to-day.
They worked on. grow gray and grayer,
Ter. they never =ade him mayor.
And she plucked no social honors.
And his wages Ltil were siall;
Then thu :oad of years grew weighity
And th-v died when tboy were eighlty.
And they put theni in the graveya1rd.
And they left them there. Tha's all.
A realistic story.
Witbout any gunh or glory,
Yet this fellow Fbeeuzer
Represents the human elan;
His the Lverge share of pleauro,
iis he average inck of leisure.
liS tie average joy and sorrow
Of tho counu average inaLl.
I ATE1R PURISSIMA BELLS
Captain Simon MaMtthewSdidl somle
imes (ill't!e the Bihlie. but always inl
slighting, Cil l ial phrase and
nlerely to su1it his private purposes.
For instance, "that, there apple
,u iness" was thrown at Josefa, li
vranddaughter, as an unanswerable
leZaSonI Why she shoill not be given
the liberty of his orl hard.
To irrigate, to spray, to annoint, to
Aumigate his few trees was the anx
ious delight o. his life, lie aceounlted
or his enthusiasm over soIle 1lin1
persimminons ill words that m1 iht
asily have had a human applicat ion.
"ive watched that there fruit."
e'd say, "pickini' its way along from
a bud."
Josefa, too, or "Chepa," as she was
icknamed, had been -picking ier
way aloig" unl(er his eves.
She had pretty, caressing tricks,
vould lay her soft, round cheek down
upon her grandfather's arm. lut
:hildren do not choose coinvenient
.imes. Old Matthews' attention was
absorbed by a thousand trilles. If
le was busy, the arm Chepa pressed
remained as irresponsive as a bone
under its flapping gingham sleeve.
Chepa had a feeling that hergrands
ather locked her out of his heart
with the same key clicking sharply inl
the padlock of his orchard gate.
Indoors there was always her Aunt
?orfirlo, a representative of the Mexi
an element of Pueblo Viejo, where
Matthews had been settlcd these
hirty years.
The senora secretly called the Cr.p
ain "that robber." Ihad he not been
eady to snap up) a bit of property
henever her improvident counltry
nen were forced to sell?
With a man's dullness the Captain
ad never discovered this domestic
nemy, or how Chepa's life was enm.
itteredl by her.
She hated Chepa as the heiress oi
aif the Pueblo.
When Chepa's last and dearest
paymate, Pablo McNamara, left the
ead town to seek a hivelihood else
here the girl would have run away
rom home; but, profouindly ignoraut
s she was, a vague terror always ac
ompan ied her speculationls upbn suchm
course.
At 16 she had touches of beaut
bout her fit to dream upoa, a rich
culpture of the lips, a dewy fire deep
n her dark eves, a glint of ravishing
olor where her somber hair ridged
itself to the suin.
But she pondered too deeply about
erselef. There was much in her
-nely habits to draw her to forsaken
laces. Such a place was one of the
2any ruins in Pueblo Viejo. "Mer
edes' house" it was called, after a
bride killed there by the falling of a
tile through a weak place in tihe
hatch.
T dwelline with all it contained,
bad been superstitiously abandoned.
uch rooms as were open had been
obbed by Indians, but the death
hamber at one end oif the rowv, her
etically sealed by the weight of the
sinking roof, remained untouched.
A footpath leading from the placita
o the little Catholic Chapel on the
utskirts of the town would have
been shortened by going past Ner
~edes' house, but curved off widely in
stead.
A thicket of castor-bean and wilL
rbacco grewv rankiy around it..
hepa couid be sure of solitude there.
One afternoon she iled to 31ercedes'
house in bitter revolt. Shlegave vent
o her feelings with childish abandon
y tearing at the braids of her hiair,
ilto which lhack strings hadl been
tightly woven-a hideous 31exican
fasion.
She Idung1 tile string on the floor.
er two brais diideid inltcix (dee piv
aving st rinds; she attacked eacht
strand, whipping it about. I ier
tboughts went even faster than her
.n gers.
KMy zrandfather w'ill (10 what lit
pleass with his own," she declared,
addressing her aunt, Luise Poriltiri.
n imagination. '-You cannot stop
him."'
lJ'r loose locke spreadl graduallt
Into a rich miass. She ilng thenti
around util il her head swain andi an
electric life awoke in each airy tila
nien t.
The .rnchine pouring down through
h broken roof oif the roi n where she'
at took this mlagnli teenit miist of hair
o itslf. settinig it alire.
Cepa was uivertied from one cause
f a nger~ to aniother.
"is this Indian hair?" she askedI,1i
transort of scorn and delight.
For the Senora Portirio had not
:ept fromr he'r the ugly ol rumnor tha;t
e gruntIlllther's first n ife. her ver it
he gzra.l~nmother had been. Ino t a
iexican womau, but an Iudian
Little birds. accustomed to makefree
ith Mercedes' house, couild not wail
'r the disappearance of that gloritied
ippartltionm.
Sitting silent on a rubbish-heap
uir,-i irop iigntiy cown nesiac rer.
She welcome-d -r visitor with a
han : . half whistle. a cliarm slh
had learned from a Cahuilla Indian
girl.
With a hop the bird tok the edge
of a tile-shard nearer to that mys
terious simmfonfl. H., twisted his
head with insatiablI curiosiv.
As the hissing whistle went on in
quisitive twitterings fell from ragged
fringes of thatch overhead. excited
shadows wiuked across the sunshine;
bird after bird slip-ped down the gold.
en chute and alighted.
In the midst of this growing flock
Clpa was cautiously gathering up
'he hem of her gown so as to make a
deep bag.
Whistle, whie. A knot of snakt
grass. stirred by lleaven knows what.
ror nothing else was stirring, rustled
aith sound of life trailing by: but
:ot a bird took fright. Whistle,
whistle. A wild tobacco tree, whose
top, dripping slenderly over the
wall, dipped deep into the sunstream,
sprang up suddenly, riding some flaw,
and sprinkled Chepa and her en
hanced observers with sundrops.
Whistle, whistle. Swiftly Cliepa's free
hand darted out to catch a bird, and
.eturning, whisk it into her improv
ised bag.
The other birds flew wildly away,
but Chepa knew how to lure them
: :iek until her game pouch .s as
:ull as she cared to have it.
What did she mean to do? With.
>ut doubt the Cahuilla girl had kept
aer captives for the spit.
Chepa Stood up, gathering the
,kirt of her gown closer and closer.
he talked to her prisoners aloud:
"You will never, never ily again:
An ever-recurring "n'' froi the
spanish tongue wa- shaded to infinite
:ieanings oi Chepa's lips; was defer
mtial, gracious, wistful, from mood
i m0ood.
'(Only your feathers will fly wher,
[ pick them. One by one they will
ly away to the top of the trees;
way high up to the sun."
The imprisoned lirds chirped fran
ically. Chepa was thrilled by the
ect of their tiny feet kicking and
cratching.
-But you will be dead, dead, dead."
With this dire repetition she gave
he tumbling, palpitating mass an
estatic squeeze-and let her gown
~all.
The birds rolled downward as one,
Du, only far enough to catch thei
ings, and whirr! They were slant.
.ng madly up the sunbeam-up, up,
1i if iot, to stop short of the sky.
"hepa's very heart rose with them.
3he stretched up her arms as if to
fhare in their glorious liberation.
Her rebellious mood had given way
'o an ecstasy of hope.
This hope had some foundation. A
:orporation of medical specialists
xere bargaining for a thousaud acres
f her grandfathier's land. 'They
ere to build a sanitariur.1 for con
sumptives, to plant gardens and or.
:hards in which patients might work
ut their own cure.
The Captain thotught it a magnsfl.
:ent scheme. Hie had gone into it
aart and soul, raising his price en
thusiastically from day to day. lHe
talked to Chepa incessantly, with
asfles of youth in his weakc. old eyes,
f what he would do with changing,
et always fabulous sums of money.
The birds were gone. Chepa sat
own once more on the rubbish heal)
n the, midst of her red-gold bush of
A dream of the future glittered
and spurn like the sunshine, adorably
pure, laden with balm and ozone
hich men were coming to buy with
aer grandlfather's land.
Out of this dream of the future,
idvancing to meet the self she was to
e, came her lost playmate, l'ablo
WeNam ara.
Ie turned adoring eyes upon her.
"You are beautiful," lie seemed to
my, "and I love you."
A sound not human hnke upon her
ears with startling nearness. Jtust
ne thrilling note, and at an omin
us interval another.
'The bells of the Mater Purissima
bad begzun to toll.
Ineffably clear and right at hand,
nd yet those tones had a singular
soundl of remoteness. No material u
Lerposition produced this etfect. It
was a spiritual quality, an aloofness,
n touch with the dead pueblo, with
ts summer-burned hills and the
eeping away of life.
rThose vibrations as they widened
ut toward infinity took Chepa's soul
vith them. 1Her dIream of the future
assedl inito themi as a breath passes
ito a wide-winged wind and is lost.
She rose quickly and went to look
hrough the great blossom brushes of
he castor-bean with an instinctiv~e
iort to lay hold upon somne object
hat wold~ bring hack the present to
er senses, bring back her hopes for
he future.
Bevond the thicket, across a sun.
aked open space, stood the little
~hapel. A s through a mist she saw
s side d(or standing ipen, its (lark
nterior shiowinog as a nuiche of shadow.
Rude fliures which the sunshiine
oubl nuot enl iven were crowding out
f thli S shiadow. (n )iof~i t hem bore
i miy box decorat ed with gay tatters
> clot h a nd piper.
''It is only an Indian baby," Chepa
said,. in a daze.
1;ehind the chapel rose up austere
ly the bare posts arid cross-beams
where tihe bells hung, or. as now,
rolled languidly against the blue of
the eep sky.
Seen through these posts as in a
framnie, i mmeasu rabldy perlectivyes of
wild land merged in the sapphire up.
lift of False Bay.
11pon this vacant water the after
noon was passing in Ilights of golden
Would those bells never (cease! Tht.
priest who. only, lia1 the right to
ring thuem was lying haek their cou
errated tongues.
Iut whenever Chepa awoke that
night their vibrations seemedl to be
til widening outward from her brain.
Chepa's heart was full of delirious
expectations. The hours that sepa
ated her from a new life of travel
md luxury, such as her grandfather
iad garrulously pictured, were ' .
:heir way. At noon sharp, that very
ay, the great land deal was to be
~onsummated.
A t 10 o'clock. giving up an attempt
0 s.41 tlie ioruuig as usgaL. i~n hig
am
How Insects Mlake lln;ie.
. Everybody is familiar wPith ii
musia of the katydid. 1Iere, again,
sava the Washington Star, it is the
male that has the voice. At the base
of each wing cover is a thin mlil
branous plate. He elevates the wiag
covers and rabs the two plates to
gether. If you could rub your shuilder
blades together you could imitate the
operation very nicely.
Certain grasshoppers make a sound
when flying that is like a watchman's
rattle-clacketty-clack, very rapidly
repeated. There are also some moths
and butterflies which have voices. The
"death's-head" moth mkes a noise
when frightened that strikingly rt -
sembles the crying of a young baby.
How it is produced is not known,
though volumes have been written on
the subject. The "mourning cloak"
butterfly-a dark species with a light
border in its wings-makes a cry of
alarm by rubbing its wings together.
P The katydids, crickets, grasshoppers
and other musical insects are all ex
aggerated in the tropics, accuming
giant forms. Thus their cries are
proportionately louder. There is an
East Indian cicada which make a re
markable loud noise. It is called by
the natives 'dunnub," which means
drum. From this name comes that of
the genus, which is known as dun
dubia. This is one of the few scientitie
terms derived from the Sanskirt.
: The "deathwatch" is a popular
name applied to certain beetles which
bora into the walls and floors of old
houses. They make a ticking sound
by standing on their hind legs and
knocking their heads against the
wood quickly and forcibly. It is a
sexual calL Many superstitions have
been entertained respecting the noise
produced by these insects, which is
sometimes imagined to be a warning
of death.
k Entomologists have succeeded in
recording the cries of many insects
by the ordinary system of musical
notation. But this method does not
show the actual pitch, which is usually
several octaves above the staff. It
merely serves to express the musical
intervals. It is known with reason
able certainty that many insects have
voices so highly pitched that they can
not be heard by the human ear. One
evidence of this fact is that some
people can distinguish cries of insects
which are not audible to others.
A Cowboy District Attorney.
Everybody in the Panhandle kuonri
Lorenzo Dow Miller. Better than thaIt,
everybody likes him and admires him.
Dow lives at Panhandle City, and is Dis
trict Attorney, and rules over twenty-ni
counties. He is a genius.
Born in Texas, he went to the Pan
handle years ago, when the Indians were
still in the country. His capital ca'n
sisted of an unusual amount of comniu
sense and a six-shooter. He went out
on the plains as a cowboy and has
punched long horns all the way froan
Lost valley to the neutral strip. Around
his camp fire at night he pored over an
old volume of Blackstone. Before very
long he bought some more books. Hon
est, sober and industrious, he mile
friends as fast as the prairie grass grows
in the spring or a yearling runs in a
stampede. He astonished the wcrld one
- -. day by announcing his candlidacy for
District Attorney. He astonished the
world on the day after t te election by
having beaten W. H. Woodman, his op
ponent.
From that time Dow has gone on un -
til he is invincible in his district. Oae
of his arguments, made before a G:eer
County jury before the vernacular of the
ranch had given way to the polish of the
effete East, was as follow4:
''Gentlemen of the jury, look at that
prisoner. His phiz is dead tough. Hie's
a thief, and a sneak thief at that. Lok
at those knots on the back of his hea'd.
They are the bumps of cussednaess. How
[ came to know is I traveled witha a
-Ircus once and got on to thae racket.
Niow I want to give yoa a conlilential
stiff and drop a few points into your sys
tem. If you turn that fellow loose the
bars of every ranch in this county will
be down before Sunday night and so:ns
ine steers will be lost."
He left the case go and the ma got
.wo years.
You must know Miller to apprezit
aim. You must hear him tell ho.v he
>lutfed a judge out of fining himt for
:ontempt by threatening to attach the
foresaid judge as a witness in HFi tr I
Dounty, and thus c:>:pAl hin to ":.''
-niles across the couatry la Lh sno.. -
ialveston (Texas) Ne .vs.
*Senator Bate's Historic'.! ('ustomu.
Senator Bate, of Tennessee, has a~
custom that is both pictiuresque and1
historical. He is never to be seeni
without having what hie calls his dry
smoke, that is a ciga'r stickin~g ont of Ino
corner of his miouth. No ,onesince he
has been inCo'ngress has ever seen him o
light one. In fact, he hias not lighx d
a cigar since the year 15t3. Up'
that time he was on inveterate smo ker
and always had a ligh ted cigar bet ween
his teeth. He was in the Con federate
army during the war and in that year
was serving in the camipaign of \>r
ginia. In one of the battles of that!
campaign he and his brother were,
riding together. Bate took out a
couple of cigars, handel one to be
brother. Then tried to light a mnatech
on his saddle. As he did s'o a camnnu
ball whizzed by putting out the matchj
that the future Senator Bate had li?ghi d
and at the sanme time taking otl the
head of his brother. Date carried the
dead body from the tield and after
some of the excitement had passed
away he found the unlighted cigar still
in his mouth. He did not light it. and
from that day to this he has never
lighted a cigar. The shock was so
great that he never fully recovered
from it and the unlighted cigar is the
one sad remaindler and vet onlyv tobaccoe~
solace has he iuduiited in ,since that
To chose time is to sa fe iimo'e ard an
ureasona'' mo ' sIu ei m th
air.
What is taken fr nm the iom tun also
ma; haily be: so muc-h lited fran the
Sul.
Every man thinks he mPkhit become
famous if lie hdl more time to write
1t is hard for anybodyv e' se to l'ease
the man who is well pleased with him
~eaf.
I orcT-Ud, ihe CaptaImii had iessed
himself with distinct reference to his
dignity as a man of means.
The tails of his gingham shiits
.vont to hIow free, were tucked in.
JIis hair, ordinarily left to draggle in
gray wisps over his shouldors. was
:irawn up and Fjire'ad painstakingly
tha to conceal an extensive baldness.
A stro,. ngusty odor exaled froi a
bran new silk handkerchief kiatted
about his throat.
Chepa. onl tiptnr with exuitatIon,
.nnounced to hii constantlv how
many isore teams and horses were
aitching in the placita.
Ile remarked with an air of pride.
"They've heered of this big 'huy'
ill over the country."
The Senor Poriirio, who had taker.
the Captain's side against Luise Por
firio and other mossback cpponents of
the sale. dawdled uneasily back and
forth between his open (loor and the
Captain's.
"You might spring an advance o!
Sve thousand on them, " he advised a
the last Tuinute. i-They' would not
let their scheme fall through for five
.housand.
"Think ye? Think ye?'' demanded,
the Captain, grouping and regr->up
ing his wrinkles to the expression of
7arying shades of cupidity.
With the suddenness that surprises
us in things long waited for, the great
interview was actually taking place
Chepa had fled to an adjoining
roomr to listen. 11er head and heart
throbbed together with joy-then
terror.
Was that her grandfather's voic
3reaking out furiously?
"Who 's made ye a better offer9
Porfirio? ie hasn't an acre in his
>wn right. Forty dollars an acre?
Take him up, then, and when your
impr oveinents are in see If there ain't
a rightL o di 'wer or trust deed, some
d n Mexican tricki'ry, trumped up
to dra-v yc into litigation?"
If Senor Porlirio had spoiled Cap
;ain Matthews' sale the Captain
looked to a prompt return or the at
tention.
Those eminent specialists went else
.Mhere, leaving Pueblo Viejo to its old
ways.
After such a terrible disappoint
ment Chepa found the deadly monot'
ony of things indoors unendurable.
A golden perch swimming in circles
oounded by a glass bottle startled so
stupidly at nothing. The round
wooden clock on a bare wooden shelf
was perpetually rolling over on its
head and ticking placidly upside
down. When Chepa was half mad
with drawing threads from endless
strips of perlillada, her aunt's favorite
species of Spanish lace, she ran des
perately to her grandfather.
Snhe found him talking aloud tc
himself as he stooped over a pepper
vine.
She laid her cheek, pale with
thoughts, upon the arm he needed to
have free.
"What's the miatter of ye anyhow?'
ne shouted.
She had startled him when he was~
deeply pre-occupied.
"Let go, there? Eh, eh?''
Chepa had said something in a low
tone which he could not hear.
Hie jerked his face up at her and
instantly, in the intensity of a peev
ish inqiuiry, drew his toothless lips
apiart.
What has an old man of 80 to dc.
in the Captain's agitation he pulled
off a green pelpper and stood up fumi
bling at it and blinking his weak old
yes at Chepa.
"What's on ye, Chepa?"
She tried to speak, but could onl3
draw her breath hard.
The Captain's (discomfort pushed
him to seek relief in a general accusa
tion.
"Weemen are al'ays hankerin for
somethin'."
'"Grandfather," said Chepa with a
.eep. still gaze upon him, andl a child
ish quiver of her lip, "could not a girl
like me be a religious, a nun? is it
no(t good, no?"
How had the Captain's life pre
pared him to answer such a query?
"Who's been a-talkin' to ye?"
"Nobody-sure, no. i think of it.
myself."
"i've got along all niy life-and i
Ain't gomn' to b'gin giv'in' in to such
notions. You're your grandmother
all over."
With the green pepper still in hit
nand he had disemboweled it and ate
the carcass with a furious churning of
the jaws. is eyes were redder than
usual from the burning.
'"But when she got (ane o' her spellh
' hankerin' on 1 jest uppedl and off
fer a week's huntin'. When I got
back she was pertty generally ready
to take things as they come."
"Grandfather," said Chepa, looking
at him as never before. with eyes that
summoned him before the judlgment
bar of a soul, "'I have often thon'fh*
o myself I would ask you, Is that
tory true that I hear? Was my
randlmother all Indian?"
Hecr lip) quivered, not childir
ow, as she waitedl.
"'Is it true, grandifather?"
H e answered sharply, ''You're a
:01:"' andl turned his back on her.
As Ch'pa was going vaguely out of
hei~ gardent she saw Palo McNanmara
whirling away from the town in a
ja:nty dhs-cart.
J~ead grasses li'ekered ghost-like in.
he placita. The sunshine absorbed
there by dark walls lay dimly as in an
eclipse.
A t a curbless well, covered by a lid
et inito the street like a trap-door, a
superannuated horse was waiting for
sonic one to give him a drink. He
blew his nostrils at Chepa and pawed
at the wooden lid.
Sho drew wate:- and gave him to
rin k.
The chapel door was standing open
apon the eternalt shadow of its in
teior. A priest praying alone befor'a
the altar did not look up while Chepa
stood about.
Behind the chapel those bells
s~~ee to be fore ver' waiting for youth
to be dead and borne to its burial.
A second time that strange seizurel
Staring up soberly at the bells Chepa
fond the present with its despair
trembling outward from her soul to
possess that vacant landscape. the
world, eternity itself, in ripples of
olemn sound.* * *
. * 9
A stxanp cnt hnd nuickened
)f life.
Ciepa 3Matthews' sudder? disappeart u
ince was associated with I'ablo !Me
Namara's equally sudden departure
from that sectioni of the country. v
Mut Capt. Matthews charged fu-ri' t
.uvly upon all gossips with another
thery. Iis "little Chepy" had be-en ru
"inveigled awaiy fri 1 hin b1- rest
who wanted hi-, lai. Ili
An liliaii biy sin.I. biti neo ai
Mercedle' hu.e leard a strai.ngC C1
ouintd in I ee.
The house hadi awars been i unted. C(
I was long before lileni were led to st
scareh it. it
A heap f stones and tiles rudelv L<
ilting a nlight of steps led from1
the earthen flo 'r u1p tO theC roof of co
Mercedes' death chaniher. tb
Looking thro.gh th e rniinus hatch pe
Into the cell-like gloom below a sight m
xo chill the bloed was seen. a
Rooted amid dust and cobwebs. he til
Nild hair in a sunless inkt, stood w,
what had been Ch'pa Matthews. a I
Her arms hung rigidly down in front
o her; the nands, locked together, %b
r made one fist. hc
At odd nioments, far apart, movea 'ro
oy some blind iiechanin, her arms gu
lifted toward her breast, the fist Tl
.,m,.te there, and a voice, not hers, lh
but hollow andl vibrant. answered the 1
stroke as a bell its clapper. One
lamentabe great tone, and at oninous th
intervals another and anot her: de
'Oh-h! Oh-h! Oh-h!" 0o
Then marble silence agzaiii. De le
,(out Catholies saw how thiS ailliction
had come about.
Had not that. robber of a capt air.
ust "floated a <laim" over the land e!
jn which the chapel stoody W
To punish this heretic, those blessed ca
)ells had "gone to Chepa Matthews' PU
brain."
Solenin groups stand for hours at an
;afe distances from Mercedes' house t
to hear and shudder at those lament. di
able great tones. d
''oh-h Oh-h! Oh-h!' W
Thus ringing her own knell die4. hi
2hepa Matthews, aged 16.
No other knell is rulng for her
he pi-stly guardian of the bells
will n(7 untie their austere sweet
tongues. ag
on
Ephraim's; Sin.So
Uncle Silas was a very honest, and co
pious old colored man who, jr eached a
ano
on. Sundays,and had a geat int!uence pa
for good upon the others in the set
tlement. During one of his revival
an
seasons, among a dozen or so at the th
mourners' bench, was a black boy
called Eph, about 21) years old, and ca
for a long time unregenerate. Lncle cei
Silas was greatly re:oiced to see him
come forward, and at once went to th:
him. Eph was erying. is
"Hain't no use in mv comin' up.' of
be sobbedi. '-I'se sinied away de day pe
ob grace."
-No, you ain't. brudder," protestef he
nche Silas. "You am de kin' whiat pe
dec Lawd wants toi save . All you got be
ti do is to gib up sin."'co
"'se duii donie dar, Uncle Silis,' an'
sobbed~ Eph, '-but dey ain't no salva- Ca.
tion fer nme." thb
"Yes (dey is, too. honey. Dey aiin't at1
no sin so b'ack dlat hit ain't washed tu,
white as snow." q
"I done stole fo' chickens las' . Co
week," con fessed the penitent. idy
"Dat's all fuggi b, Eph'm." po
"An' two de week befo', Uncis ' ho
Silas." Up
"DIat's fuggib, too, Eph'm." thb
"un' two de week bei'or' dat, Uncle ins
Silas.'7 TJ
"Dat's all right, too, Eph'm." ,51l
''But dem two was you'nl, I ncle ibu
Silas. Demi fat pullets you low'd se ! 00l
much sto' by, Uncle Silas." I tb
"Wha' (dat.?" exclaimed Unct~e Silas, be;
sudd~enly. th
'-D~em las' two Wuz/ yo' pullets, jai
Uncle Silas," sobbed Eph. Lh'
Uncle Silas became solemn and 'ai
stern.
".1 reeon, Eph'im," he said, slowly
''You' case nieedis advisement wic,
pira'r. I ain' shio dat we wanter he tio
clutterin' up de Kiingdom of' Hebben mi
wid chicken thieves, an' you better t
stay right on de mio'ners' bench tillit
de meetin' ami done, an' we kin up
dezamine yo' state ob sin for per- ein
ticklers. "-Free Press. S
Capt. Calile',t Crew of lav'eq.
The death (of Capt. George W-. br<
Cable, one of the earliest or Misscuri ess
River steamboatinen, cuts the list of gr<
old-timers notably. lie was 84 yearsfe
ld when he died. lie had been th;
naaster, mate, engmneer, owner, and the
pilot. He was :23 when he began his 'po
areer. In tive years he was a ha
licensed engineer. Three years later otl
he~ was commissioned as a pilot from ti
New Orleans to the Rocky Mountains| tic
and on the LUpper Mississippi to St. ensd
Paul. As those were the days of muag-'ne
niticent salaries in the sti-amboating soi
bushi es~x, Capt. Cable miade a great -e
leal of mioney by carefully invest- se~
ing the liberal pay t hat he received. bu
It was not long until he became a Lh
steamboat owner in his own name. hna
Of the famous boats of the forties ha
and fifties that he ownedl the Edward
Walsh, George Collier, Mary Mc
Donald, and Luther Kennrett were
the largest and fastest. Later he die
was5 miater and part owner of the ne
John Aulli, piobabily the faust est boat asl
that ever cut the muddy waters of -1
the Missouri River. -
The crew of the AMill were negro we
slaves, the property of the boat mai~n- or
agement. When Capt. Cable was rei
most prosperous he used to while pi<
away the evenings on the hurricane sul
:eck, throwing handfuls of silver flo'
half-dollars mnto the air, letting them Tt
fa ein the forecastle, where he could wC
watch the crew scramble fuor them. cre
Misfortune overtook him with the ga
:omings of the railroads. ik boats Pc
and other property were swept away, ag
leaving him in his old age poor in tal
poney and health, with oinly a t
memory of the brighter days to cheer T
himn. diy
The sooner a man becomes convinced -
of the things ha can't do the quick~er he ol
wi1 succeed in life. (of
Measured by our tiune standard all
there are forty -ears -of constant day. Ca
light, followed by forty years of un
broken night, around the spole' o1
Uranus. And the sun rises in the w a
amd sets in the Last there.
If thou thy part do well, the prize ita
sure; all shall inheret bliss who to the
end endure.
WITH HiS WHIP,
ilicked the Revolver From the Stagi
Robber'- =And.
'"There is quite a difference be
Feen staging in the early days of
. State and now," said William
iller, the owner of the stage line
rining from Cazaaero to Ukiah.
"When I came here from Boston
1S54, I drifted about a bit, and
ally went into the service o:
iarles McLaughlin, the man who
is afterward killed by Jerome
ix. He was the owner of the longest
ige line in California at that time.
ran with relays from San lose to
>s Angeles.
"I remember once, in a lonely
ast range canyon, through v:hich
e road wound, we bad a little ex
rience that was thrilling for the
)ment, It was about 10 o'Glock and
moonlight night. I was just put.
1z the horses through. The stage
ts full of passengers, and t ere was
ieavy treasure box.
"Ju-t as I got around a bend in
e roal i saw a figure of a man on
rseback standing by the side of the
id. He yelled to stop, and I saw a
n barrel gleam in the moonlight.
ie horses were going at a speed
at might be called breakneck, and
ust made up my mind to tak the
ance of getting through. I saw
e gun raised to the ,ellow's shoul
r as we approached. I haa my
ig whip in my hand, and with a
peration born of peril of the mo
mt I made a vicious swipe at him.
"1 don't know how it occurred, but
e lash wound itself around the
n, and as we dashed by the whip
is drawn taut, and I knew It had
ght, so held fast. I was nearly
lied out of my seat, but the gun
La dragged from the robber's band
d fell to the ground, at the same
e it was discha.ged by the shock.
rattled along the road for quite a
tance before the whiplash un
und itself. I don't know what the
hwayman thought, but I'll bet he
s surprised."-San Francisco Call.
Lighting from Storage.
ghting cars electrically by stor
? batteries has now been practiced
the Chesapeake and Ohio road for
ne months and at present eight
iches, eight combination, eight ex
-ss, five dining and four postal cars
provided with the necessary ap
ratus. A comparative statement
the cost of working and mainten
ee, indluding interest charges of
se thirty-three ca s, twenty-one
-s lighted by Pintsch gas and 137
-s lighted with ke osene oil has re
itly been sent to the General Man
r of the road. The report states
it the cost of the electric lighting
bout 13 per cent less than that
lighting by Pintscb gas and 70
- cent. more than with kerosene
aps. The storage batteries are
d in oblong boxes weighing com
te about 600 pounds, forty boxes
ng enough to lighb an ordinary
ten from New York to Cincinnati
I return, although most of the cars
ry six boxes. In the run between,
se cities the apparatus requires no
,ention whatever, the trainmen
-ning the light on and off as re
red. The cells are charged diZ
vington, Ky., where there are two
amos driven by a seventy horse
wer engine running steadily ten
urs a day. The bat~tery Is built
of leaa plates laid 'horizontally,
positive and negative plater be.
separated by a special packing.
e negative plates wear out very
wly, say in eight or nine years,
. the life of the positive plates is
y about eighteen months. Al
ugh the plates are kept In rub.
ce is and are handled carefully at
(barging stations, the constant
ring of the cars is fouud to hasten,
~ir destruction, just as does 'the
ring of street railway cars.
Mahan on Battle Ships.
rapt. Mahan was asked some ques-.
ns the other day by an English
.n about the battle ship of the f u
-e, and this was his answer: "Mil
ry superority in warfare depends;
ran heavy blows struck at ths
amy's organized fihting force.
eh blows miust be struck by massed.
ces, the units of which should be
lividually powerful for off-ense and
~ense, because so only can they be
>ught under the unity of command:
ential to success. The same ag
~gate of force in two ort three dif
ent vessers will rarely be equal to
t concenwitted in (.ne, becaase of
Sdia:culty o: insuring mutual supa
-t. This means heavy vessels or.
tle shipis. Of course, like all,
ier statements. this means limita-i
n. The size of vessels is condi
ned not only by construction con-.
erations, but by the fact that you
al to scatter at times as well as
icentrate. This involves the ne
s:ty of diviaing your force into
eral vessels, becau-:e a ship once
It cannot be divded. .Between
two horns of the dilemma you
.st strike a mnean; but always a
~tle ship.
Condiments.
[o those who preach simpnlicitv of
I, conaiments seem not only un
:essary but injurious. Why, they
:should one take a pie e of cheese
,he bigher" the better, of course
fter a full meca , or why is it that
.avor our viands with sauce this
sauce that?~ Science has an answer
dy: Because the condiments,
kies and cheese are all -so many
stances which tend's to hiavor a
e of the digestive secretions.
ey stimulawu digest-on. in other
rds, because they cause an in
ased s cretion 'f the saliva and of
tric juice wherewith o'ir foo'ds are
rt indigested. Again, they are
reea;le to the palate, and the men
izuluece.which is thus shed on
a similation of food is of n-a
in value in determining that go d
estion should "wait on appetite "
-he first known European library
ginted in the presont to the fain ly
Ii gulus b~y the Roman Senate of
the books seized at the caipture of
)NLY two pcop.le attend a real pic
S wonx~v can lace herself so tighi
a man can drinik himself.
[here are 13,000) varieties of postge
mnns in the world
A GOOD BREAD CRUSADE"
4 Englihaann Win Try to AceOmplishe
MNch Needed Reform.
Of all the crusades recently starte(
for the referm, improvement, or pro,
pagotion of this, that, or the otheM
the very latest is one looking to the
netterment of physical mankind
through the correction of dietetic eri
rors of various sorts into which civii
ized people have fallen. An Englishi
man named Herbert William Hart N
the high priest and moving spirit of
this crusade, and although 55 yearl
of age, he is said to be a most con.
vincing example of the excellence o
his ideas as applied. Mr. Hart
such followers as he has alrea.
gained hold to the belief that the
nervousness, lack of reserve force,
and general want of robustness
among moderns, especially the classee
living in cities and engaged in seden.
tary occupations, are due almost en
tirely to lack of proper nourishment.
Even the present labor and business
troubles, theyaver, are due to mental
depression and excitement superin.
d uced by want of wholesome and di
gestible food.
With the meat we eat and the reg.
etables even, the crusaders have no
particular quarrel. It Is the bread
that a ma'ority of the civilized peo
ple of to-day put into their stomachs
which Mr. Hart and his disciples
severely condemn as being innutrit.
ious, provocative of fermentation and
consequont dyspepsia and other dis.
orders, and altogether harmful in
various ways. Our bread, made o1
bolted and reboltei wheat flour, say
they, contains little else but starch,
and starch does not.supply nearly all
the re :uirements of the human sys
tem. Wheat, as taken from straw,
contains a number of elements elim
inated in the modern milling pro.
cesses which are absolutely necessary
to the restoration of tissue and the
formAtion of blood and bone. Conse
quently bread should be made from
whole wheat flour-I. e. f'our manu
facturod by the simple process ot
crushing the wheat grains. It was
upon such ftour, says Mr. Hart, that
the apostles built up the constitu
tions which enabled them to perform
their great work ot evangeli.ation-a
work requiring wounderful physical
energy and endurance as well as great
mental power. it was upon whole
wheat fou', they say, that ths
Greeks became the most learned, the
most artistic, and the handsomest
people the world has known, and
upon it the Romans nourished the
warriors and statesmen which made
their capital the mistress of the
whole known world. Shakspeare,
most industrious and fertile-brained
of all poets an writers, was wont te
take his own selected grain to Lucy's
miil and have .t made into meal from
wh ch no element was eliminated,
and the American and African abo
rigines. whose splendid health and
sinewy frames have caused the white
man envy, never ate breadstuffof an9
other kind than that cont.alning t~be
whole grain until brought into con
tact with civilization.
Lime iron, and silex are the prop
erties of wheat elimated in mode-rc
bread making, and they are all vi
tally necessary to the human const:
tution. When Mr. Hart and his fol
lowers have succeeded in bringin~g the
world to a realization of this fact, and
consequent rationai milling and man
ufacture or breadstuffs, it is safe tc
say that the general health will De
vastly imneroved. even ir all men do
not become ma. vels of streug~and
intelMet,--rwomen paragons et
beauty and grace, and all doctors and
dentists unnecessary and superfluous
adjuncts of society,
elispronunciation of Words.
Many mispronunciations may be ac.
counted for on the ground of laziness
inherent in man. It is a great
deal easier to pronounce the
vtiwel sounds than the consonant
sounds: and, by the way, it is a curi
ous fact that man is a coasonant
sounding animal; animals use vowels;
it is the province of man to shape
these vowels into words with the use
of consonants. Hence, Homer de
fines man as "speech-dividing." It
is a great deal easier to say sah,
mistah, and waht, than to say sir,
mister, and war. It is easier to say
mornin', evenin', than :morning,
evening. But on the other hand, there
are cases when the destroyer of English
seems to take considerable trouble to
accfmplish his purpose. Is is easier
to say borrer than borrow, or garding
sass than ga:den sauce? It is eas er
to) say 'uss than horse; but why go to
the gratuitous labor of nrefixing an li
in a great many cases where it does
not belong? Almost anybody could
say asparagus, but it seems to require
some little etymological erudition to
say si arrow grass. A country friend -
:>f the writer invariably called succo
Lash su -cothash. being apparentl
under the impression that it is an 'fl
geniouis compound of the veget fle
and the aninmal, coming under the
general name of hash. Another ac
guiaintance, who speaks very de'i er
ately, sa. with an e xasperatmng j'I
know-I-an right" expression of chun
tenance, laboriously adds a "g'/ to all
w >rds ending with "n"--as capting,
Bosting. and so on. H~is mlispro,
nunciation seems to proceed from aa
sire to be unusually exact and ti~ebel
in speech. and it would require sinne
:ouramge to call him to account 1o,
his errors.
The progress of science has ca.R fd
a new cr'ime into existence. A ca.e
recently came .before a certain 1:ry-~
tourt in which a man, with son,e
knowledlze of electricity, cause.l the
mecter which registerea the anmount
which he used for illuminatmng pur
pesto recordi les; thar. lie had con
ium:-d. The lawy er who defende:d
hoim ingenoiusy arg i that as elec
tri.:ity was an intn.; ible -omie'thlin.4
of which no onec Cu'Ui rea'ly state t .e
exace'natuire.Oand t"e. at lawv it wvas
actully nknon. ; 'client coulad
noat be c onvicted ol' mtal .ng it. But
the lawyer nit hzis mtcth on the
other sidle i a one who uhowed th.:g
was a'so unak owaV 1 corumon~i law,
!.ut was recogni~ed as a thing th -1
cuild be stoen. In~ the se inel ti.4
judge took advanturec of a certain
-:t stute which makes 'ra. d co-mmitte-d
with a view to theft, i fe'ony, and
the man who stole tly electricity is
therefore likely to med with the re
wma of his nnsde.4 ..