Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 January 1888 — Page 2

t THE INDIAKAPOLtS JOURlTAIi SUNDAY, JANUAHY 1, I8S8-TWSI4VB PAGES.

UNCLE MINGO'S "SPECULATIONS."

Euta McEnery Stuart, ia Trlaceton Review. "L-Lord-a-mnaay, Boas! Ton d' know nut'n! De idee o you a-stinnm' up dar an aim me Whar I goes. tor markit! ' "Heah! Heah! Well, you see, Boss, my markit ' moves roan'! Some days hit's right heah iu front o' my residency an' den I goes ter markit wid a dran-line an a' hook; an' some days hit's hack heah in de Jedge's giarbiage bar'l, an' den I goas wid a hook agin a hook on a stick. 'Don't von co to heavin' an' a-hawkin an a-spittia' over my markitin'. Boss! I'se clean ef I Is black, an' I'se prettckilar ef I does go to mar kit pomiacyus! I aint nuver seed a fresh giarbage bar'l outtide o' do quality kitcheu do', whar de cook bad food changeable habits, whar I couldn't meek a food day's markitin'. but I has ter know de " ' habits o' de cook befo' t patternizes a new bar'l. an' dat barTs cot ter be changed an' seal ted out reclar. ef hit gits my trade, eaze I nayer eats stale pervision. "In cose, Boss, I usea 'scretion long wid my hook, eaze some o' de contentionsV de bar'l aint fitten fo' no gen ter man ter eat, but seen as dish water an' eoffe-grouns, dee don't tantalize me, eaze dee don't hook up, an I nuver markits wid so dipper, eaze it markits too pomiscyus! "Why, Boss, ef you was good-hongry, you'd at de cyabbage an' little bacon eena arter I'se done washed an' biled 'em! "De bacon eens wid de little pieces o' twine in 'em looks like dee was jes' lef to be hooked! I tell yer, Boss, de wuckincs o Providence is behelt in de leavin' o' dem twine strings. "You see. yer has ter onderstan' how ter , scraps. Dey's kitchen scraps, an' dish scraps. i an' plate scraps. De kitchen scraps I uses mos'ly I to seasonin de green tops o' de mgons, pasley ; stems, cilery leaves an' sech. De dish scraps is ' de chice scraps. Dee's fowl cyarcases. an' ham 'bones, an' roast beof bones, an' de likes. De plateoscraps I aint nuver fooled wid. I aint come te dat yit! I nuver likes terjsee de pattern o nobody s mouf on my vittles! ler see, I was raised high. Boss, an' I aint nuver got over it. "Tali about gwine ter markit! I don't want no better markit uan a fns'-class giarbage bar'l an' 'scrimination. Ef I wants ter know who's who, jes" letnme peeo in de giarbage bar'l, an 111 tell yer ef dees de reei ole-timers, er new sprouters er just out-an'-ont po' white trash! My old madder uster say, 'Show roe de cloze-line, an' I'll tell yer who folks is!' an' she couid do it. too! but I say, show me da giarbage, an' I'll tell yer ef dee 11 parse muster!'' The speaker. Uncle Mingo, was . an Aged, white-haired black man, and he sat, as he talked. on a log of drift-wood on the bank of the Missis sippi river at Carmllton, just above New Orleans. I often strolled out for a breeze and quiet moke on the levee during the warm summer evenings, and it was here that I first met Uncle Mingo. He was a garrulous old negro, who lived alone in a shanty outside the new levee, and was evidently pleased in discovering in me an . Interested listener. Jn reply to his last remark I said, "iiut yoa forget, old man, that most of us 'old-timers,' as you call us. are poor now!" lie raised bis face in surprise, and exclaimed: "Lord, Boss, does you suppose I'se a-talkia' 'bout ricbs? I'se one o deze befo-de-war-yers, an' I knows! I tell yer. Boss, hit aint on'y de money what inecks de diffence. hits de hit's de Boas. I wiaht I had de book words ter splain it de way I knows it in heah!" He tapped his breast "Hits de diffence in de in de cornsciousness. Dat's de on'y way I kin splain it. Hit seems ter me de o'e-time folks bad de inner cornsciousness, an' all dese heah sew people aint got nut'n' but de outer corn sciousness! "De inner cornsciousness strikes out mighty kind an' sweet when it do strike out, an' bit's gentle in high places, an' when de waters o' trib ulation rnns agin it, hit keeps a stiff upper lip. an aon t mecu no sign. "Dar's my ole madam. Miss Annie, now. dat ester smile on ev'y nigger 'long de coas , so 'feerd she moutf be a slightin' some o' she's own veoole. eaze she own so many she don't know half on 'em dar she is now, a-livin' back o' town a-meckin' yeast cakes fo' de Christian "Woman's Exchange, an', Boss, I wish you could see her! "You reekin she talk po' mouf? No, sir! She's xnouf warn't cut out by de po' mouf pattern! She nuver lets on, no more'n ef de ole times was back agin. "I goes ter see hor de days my rheumatiz lets up on me right smart L goes ter see nor. an' she sets in cat little irons room de two little yellow steps a-sottia' out at de front do', an' she axes me how I come on, an' talks 'long peaceful like, but she nuver specifies! "No. sir. she nuver specifies! Fo all you see. she mout have her ca'ge out at de front do' an' be out dar to see po' white folks on business. Dat house don't fit her, and Marse Robert's potrit a-hangin' over dat little chimbly look like lilt's lost, hit look so onnatarel. "I axed Miss Annie one day how long she pecs ter live dat-a-way, an ef Gord forgives me. I ain't gwine tor quizzif y her no mo !" The old man hesitated and looked at me, evi dently expecting to be questioned. "Why. old man, didn't she answer you?" I asked. "Oh. vas sir! She answered me: she say. Well. Unc' Mingo, I hardly know. I finds it ts'v pleasant an' ouiet out heah!' - " 'Pleasant an' quiet!' Lord have mussy! An' 'bout a million o po' chillen a-rippen and a-tar-rin' up an' down de banquette, an' de organgrinder drowndin' out de soun' o' 'Ole Sweet Beans an' Ba'ley Grow' on her little box steps dat minute! "I aint nuver answered her, on'y jes' tunned rnv haid an' looked at de crowd, an' she say. Ob. de chillen. dee are a little noisy, but I meant in a' some kind o' way is.dey got sich a word as soshual. Boss?" "Social) Yes." "Dat's hit in a soshual way she say she fine hit's a uiet. eaze. she say. she aint made no new 'quaintances out dar; an' den she aint said no mo-offy axed me ef de ribber'a risin', an' I see . ens done shet de do' on my quizzitym . An X aay ter mysef, 'New 'quaintances' I reokin not! New 'quaintances in dat mixtry o' Gascons an' Dagos an' Lord knows what! I reckin not Why, Boss, I kin smell de gyarlio jes' a-talkin' 'bout 1'em! DeLord!" 'Does she live alone, old man?" I asked. "Oh, no, sir, she got 'er ma wid 'erl" "Her ma! I thought you called her 'old madam.'" "So I did. Boss. Miss Annie's we's ole madam, he's jes' laekin' a month o' bein' as ole as me, but Ole Miss, she's Miss Annie's ma. she's ole, ole. She's one o' dese heah ole Rivolutioners, an' he's git tin' mighty 'cripit an' chilish. I "She's got 'er Da's commission in de army Vignt by Gineral Washington. All we ole fambly servants knows all dat, eaze we's seen 'em teck it out .an' show de han'write too many . times! " "Yas, sir, she's a ole Rivolutioner, an' in place o' dat, heah she is to-day a-livin' back o' town f ratin' coccanul!" "Grating cocoanut! What do you mean?" "Ter meek pralines ter sell, Boas!" "And how does sell them, pray?" "She don't sell 'em, ble. yo' heart, no! My daughter, she sells 'em!' "Your daughter!" "Yas. sir, my younges' gal. Calline. She's de nies' oda o' my chillen what's lef. She's de baby. She mus' be long 'bout fifty." "And you have a daughter right herein New Orleans, and live here by yourself, old man! Why doesn't she come and take care of yoa ia your old age?" "An who gwine to look artar we's white folks? lit ole Miss in an' out o' de baid, an' go of arrant, an' do de pot an' kittle wuck, an' ea'y de , yeas' cakes to de Exchange, an' sell pralines, an' answer de do' knocker? Yer see. Boss, do folks at de Exchange dee don't know nut'n 'bout Ole Miss an' Miss Annie. You see Calline, she's dee's pertectorl I aint a-sufferin', Boss, I aint! An' ef I was, bit would be Gord'a will; but we aint made out'n de kine o' stuff ter try ter meek we selves comfable, whilst wo's white people's in tribulation." I turned and looked at the old man. A ray from the sun, now setting, across the river, fell into his silver hair and seemed to transform it into a halo around the gentle old face. I had Vften foucd entertainment in the quiet stream $A retrospective conversation that seemed to flow without an effort from bis lip, but this evening J had got the first glimpse of his inner life. ' "And don't you feel lonely here sometimes, old wan?" "I know hit looks ter you dat-a-way, Boss I know hit loolts dat-a-way but when I nets beah by de water's aidge, you cyant see 'em, but company's all arount me! lee a-settin' heah an' I aint settin' heah! I'se away back yonder! Sometimes seems like dls h.veo U de ole plantation, an' in dat place whar de sun's a-shinin' on de water, meckin' a silver road, all de ole-time folks comes out dere an' seems like dee talks ter me an' I Jives de ole times agin! "Sometimes deo comes one by one down de , thinlat road, an' sometimes a whole passel on 'em at onet, an seems like dee sets down an' talks ter ma. "Lonesome! If ever I gits lonesome all I eot ter do is ter come heah on de river bank an' ponder, and when I Vius ter speculate, heah dee eome, a-smilin' jes' like dee was in de ole day, an' sometimes, Boss, you mout come to de top o' de levee dar, an' you rnout look out heah an' es can, a ole black driod-up critter, settin' heah .

in rags, an' maybe at dat minute I mout te a million o miles from heah, a settin' up on top o' Ole Miss's ca'ce. a-drivin' my white folks to

chivch. an' Marse Robert, de one dat was kilt in de army, a little boy no mor'u so high, a-settin' up by my side, a-holdin' one rein an' a cluckin' ter de horses! , "I tell yer. Boas, when I uster git up on dat silver-mounted ca'ge, wid my stove-pipe hat on, dey warn t nobody what couid o' bought me out I wouidn t o sole out to de Juke o inglanl was dat puffed out wid stuck-up-ishness!" He paused, smiling in happy contemplation of his departed glory. "Uncle," I said, "I am going to ask you some thing. W hat was the matter with yoa last even ing?" "Istiddy? Why. Bos3f" "Well, I was sitting out here on the levee with a party of friends, smoking, and while we laughed and told old lokes. X thought x heara someone sobbing crying out loud. Peering through the twilight, 1 saw you right here where you sit now. We stopped ana listened, and presently, I think ye3, I am sure yoa were laughing. Would yoa mind telling me what was the matter? "Did yoa heah me. Boss? I reckin yoa lowed dat I was gone 'stracted, didn t you? "Well, no, I can't say that, but it did sound queer, out here by yourself." "An' you'd like ter know de 'casion of it. Boss. Well, I'll tell yer, but I'se afeard, ef I H rta a -f.All vr Trof:1-1 'lnnr jafc T'aa wna 'trrapfA dan yer did befo'. Howsomever, nit was dis-a-way! "Istiddy mornin' I wss a settin' in my cyabin a-sortlh' out my markitin' a-puttin' a pile o' cyabbage-leaven heah like, and de ebicken-haids like heah, an' pilin' 'em up accordin' ter dey kinds, when, all on a suddint, a picture o de ole times eome up befo' me, an in de place o all dese scraps, I see de inside o' Ole Miss's kitchen, an. seemed like I could beah de chicken a-fryin'. an de hot rolls was piled up befo' me, an' 'fo' I knowed it, seemed like I was a-ftyin' roan' de big breckfus table wid a white apon on, an' all de diffent kinds o' seasonable steams out'n de dishes come a-puffin' an' a-pnfQn' up in my face an' I couldn't get shet ob 'em! "I tell yer. Boss, I nuver did have my day's markitin' look so po' as it did in de presence o' dat visiom o' de ole dinin'-room! An' when I looked at my ehicken-haids, seemed like all dee's eyes was a lookin' at me sort o' gretful, like dee had feelins fo' me, an' like dee 'lowed dat I mout bab feelins fo' dem, seein's we was all bavin' hard times togedder. "Yer can look at me, Boss, an' 'cuse me o' high-mindedness, but my stummick turned agin dat vittles, an' I couldn't eat it, an' I upped an' put it back in de baskit, an I baited a swimp-bag an' a hook, an' I eome out heah to fish for my dinner, eaze I says ter myse'f, 'When giarbage markitin' goes agin yer, yer cyant fo'ce it!' "Hit warn t 'zactly goin agin me, but bit was goin' agin' my ricollections, an' dey aint much diffence, eaze dey ain't much lef o' me les'n 'tis ricollections. "Well, Boss, ef flingin' dat dinner in de ribber was Chilian in me, Gord was mighty good. He never punished me, but humored me, same ' as we humors a spiled chile. an gimme good lues wid de Dag an' line, an' I eat offn fried cat-fish an' biled swirops fo' dinner. "Well, dat was in de mornin'. Dat was my first spell o' onsatisfaction. an' arter dinner, hit sort o' come on me agin, an' I got sort o' lone some, an' long todes evenin' I come out heah f b company. "I d know hove 'tis, but I meets all de ole-time folks better out heah on de ribber bank dan any place so I set down an' I commenced ter ponder, an' treckly heah dee eome. an' fus' thing 1 know seemed like I lef my ole lorg heah, an' slipped out'n my rheumatiz. an' was outinde silver road wid dares', a-fiyin' an'a-dancin' roun' wid all de young, boys an' gals what I knowed way back yonder. Seemed like I really was dar. Boss? an' de wah, an da breckin' up, an' all de tribulations wo been pass fro, was blotted out, an' I was young agin! An now, Boss, come de strange 'speunce dat upsot me. Whilst I was a-dancin in de light an' ac'in' skittisher 'n a young colt, I happened ter tun my baid roun an look todes de levee, an' X see a 'cripit, lonesome ole man, a-settin' still on a lore by hesef, an' de bones o' he's laigs a-showin' froo de boles in he's breeches. "Fust. I aint knowed 'im, twell I . looked agin, an' den I seed 'twas me, an' seemed like I was a-settin' on de outside aidge o' de worl', an' I cyant tell yer how I felt, Boss, but hit sort o' upsot me. I tried ter laugh an' den I cried. I knowed X waren t ac'n sponserable, an' bit was chilish in me. Dee does say when a pusson gits ter a sut'n age dee's obleeged ter ao' chilish, an' I reckin' I mus' begin agin , but whensumuver I comes out heah ter ponder, arter dis, I'se sho'ly gwine ter set heah an' look back, eaze a-gwine back an' lookin dis way don t bring no comfort "Ter teck comfort out o speculatm yer has ter know which een ter start at!" It seemed to me the old man was weaker than nsual when he rose to go into his cabin, and he Allowed me to take his arm and assist him. When we reached his door I foil reluctant to leave him alone. "Let me light your candle for yon," I said. "Candle! What fer, BosbT' "Why, so you may undress and go to bed com fortably." "What use is I got fer a candle. Boss? All dese years I bin livin' heah, I aint nuver had no light yit All I got ter do is ter lay down an' X se in baid, an' ter git up an' I se up. I aint prayed on my knees sence de rheumatiz struck my lef j'int" 1 slipped a eoin in the old man s hand and left bim, but the realization of his lonely and feeble condition was present with me as I walked down the levee, across the road, up through the orange grove to my comfortable home. I re alized that age and want had met at my own door. What if the old man should die alone, within reach of my arm, in an extremity of poverty for which I should become personally responsible, if I allowed it to continue? The question of old Mingo's relief came again with my first thoughts next morning, and when Septima's gentle tap sounded on my door, and she entered, freshly tigaoned and aproned when her black arm appeared beneath my mosquito netting with my morning cup of steaming Mocha, I thought of the lonely old man in the levee cabin and of his tremulous handling of his cooking utensils that moment, perhaps, in the prenaration of bis lonely meal. The picture haunted me. and so the warm breakfast which Septima carried him was sent as much for the relief of my own mind as for his bodily comfort, as was also the dinner which I myself placed on the waiter. The boiled heart of a cabbage, with a broad strip of bacon, cut far removed from the perforation that betrays the string, and the headless half of a broiled chicken with no eye to witness its own humiliation or to gaze in sympathetic con templation of the old man's environment of poverty. . In the early afternoon, while the sun was still high, I yielded to an impulse to go out and see how my protege was getting along. I found him sitting with head uncovered in the full of the afternoon sun, outside his cabin door. "Are you trying to bake yourself, Uncle? ' I said, by way of greeting. 'Ob, no, sir; no, sir. X se ies a-settin' out heah tackin a little free-nigger-fire," he said; and immediately began thanking me for my slight remembrance of him at meal-time. "iou mus o' been trym' ter meek my visiom come true. Doss, eaze when x looked at dat breckfus dis mornin', hit come back ter me, an', Boss, I'se ashamed ter tell yer, but I did ac' chilish agin, an' my froat seem like hie stopped up, an' I kivered da plate up an' come out heah an' cried scan'lous. Hit looked like Gord was jes' a-spilin' me wid humorin' me dat-a-way. 'But treckly dat passed orf, an' I come in an' sot down, an' seemed like I was xnos' starved, I was cat bongry, but X saved orf a little speck o everything you sont me, jes' so dat ef I los' mysef in ponderin , an mistrusted de sho-nuf-ness o dat breckfus, I could fetch 'em out fo' proof, eaze hit don't meek no diffence how big visioms is, dee don't leave no scraps; an' yoa know, Boss, ies' livin' like I does, ter mysef, sort o' on on de aidge bertwix visioms o' de mine an' visioms o' de eye, I does get mixed up some days. an' I scacely knows ef I kin put out my ban' an' tech what X sees or not" "How lone have you been living this way. Uncle?" I asked. "Well, 1 d' know ezzactlv. Boss. I stayed long wid Ole Miss, down in Frenchtown, s'long's 1 could mectc a little o2'n my buck an' saw, 'an' dee qnarls at me reg'lar nowfo' leavin' 'em inspecially Ole iYLiss. fone so 'reered X mout get sick an' dee not know. Calline, she comes up mos'ly ev'y Sunday ter see me, aa' fetches me clean cloze an' a pone o' fresh braid, an' Ole Miss suns roe a little 6tnall change, an I daresn t 'fuse ter teck it, needer, but I aint nuver used it Lord no! I couldn t use de money dee mecks wid dee's white little hans " The old man seemed to forget ray presence and his voice fell almost to a whisper. "You didn't tell me how long yoa had been here. Uncle." 'Dat's so. Boss data so. he said, rous ing himself. "I was a-sayin' 'bout leavin' Ole Miss I nuver liked it down dar no how in Frenchtown, whar dee lives. Seemed like I couldn't git my bref good behint dem clost rows o' box steps, an' so when I 'seivered dat I could git reglar wuck a-sawin' drif wood up heab, I come up an' rid down in de eyars ev'y day, but dat was wearin' on me, an' so Yoa ricolleo' de time o' de cavin o' de bank below heab, when two o my color, Israel an' Hannah, got drownded? Well, dat sca'd off mos' o' dem what was a-livin' outside o' de new levee, an' dey was a heap o' shanties up an' down de coas' lef empty, an' I moved inter dis one. Dee's mosly caved in now. Ev'y time my daughter beahs now o' de cavin' o' de bank up or down de ribber, she comes an' baigs me ter go

home but I ain't afeerd. no. I aint. Dis bank's

got a stronger holt on de main Jan' dan Ifjpt on de bank o' Jordan. "You talk about Jordau as if it were nothing. Aren't you ever afraid when yoa think of it, Uncle?7' , "Afeerd o what. Boss?" "Of dving." I answered, plainly. He smiled. "Was you afeerd o' yo' pa when you was little, Bossr "Why. certainly not" "Den I aint afeerd nuther. Ain't Gord we's father? He done handled me too tender fo' me ter be afeerd o' Him. Yas, He done bandied me too tender, an' now. when I'se gittin notion ate. He's a-spilin' me wid humorins' and indulgms'. Afeerd? 2io, nor The requirements of beauty, as Ir.id down by authorities on the subject, are always resolved into a question of lines and color, of eurves and tints a certain synthesis of corresponding parts into a perfect unit of grace. It may, or may not be, that an analysis would demonstrate that the conditions had been for the moment ful filled in the unconscious person of this old negro. I know not how this may be. but I am euro I never saw any countenance more spiritual and beautiful than the gentle brown face he turned upward toward heaven, as in half soliloquy he thus spoke the childlike trust of bis undoubting heart I understood now how he might evtn doubt whether he might not "put out his hand and touch" the hand of the Giver, who was as real to him as the gifts with which he felt him self "humored and indulged." "Except ye become as little children " God give us all such faith as this! "Yoa are not all recollections after all, Uncle," I said. "Not in de suerit Boss jes' in de mine. Yer see. de sperit kin go whar de mine cyant folier. My mine goes back an' picks up ricollections same as you tecks dese heah pressed flowers - out'n a book an' looks at 'em. My mine is de onies' book I'se got, an' de ricollections is pressed in hit same as yo' pressed flowers. ' "Gord aint forbidden us to gyadder de flowers what He done planted 'long de road, an' de little flowers we picks up an' ca'ys 'long wid us, dee aint a-showin' dat we's forgittin' we's journey's een." ' I left the old man with a keener regret than ! had felt the evening before, ana I was annoyed that I could not shake it off. I knew the thing that 1 ought to do, out it involved an annoyance to me- which my selfishness resented. I bad cultivated the old negro to put him into a book. and now X felt impelled to move him icfo my yard. I could not deal otherwise than gently with this antiquated bunch of aristocratio recol lections, nor treat with dishonor the spirit that soared to heights to which I bad not attained. I strolled up the levee and back again several times, always turning before I reached the little cabin; but finally I approached it and seated myself as before on a log on its shady side, facing the old man.. "Uncle," I said, plunging headlong into the Bubject, "I want you to come and live in a cabin in my yard. You can't stay here by yourself any longer." "Yer reckin' dee'll mine ef I stays?" he said"Reckon who'll mind?" "De owners o' de cyabin. Boss. Yer reckin dee'll mine?" . "I'm the owner, Uncle, and I don't mind your staying, but I can make you more comfortable in another empty cabin inside my grounds. Won't you comer' The old man looked troubled. "You'se mighty kino, Boss an' mighty good; but, Boss, ef yer don t mine, i ll stay right heah." "The other cabin is better," I said, "the chim ney of this is falling now look at it" "I know. Boss, I know; hit ain't dat but hit's my white folks. Dee's dat proud dee wouldn't like me ter be berbolten ter nobody but dem. Yer see, I'd be a 'umblin' dem, an' dat ain't right" "Well, Uncle," I said, "do yoa know where I could get a good, steady old man to come and stay in my little cabin and look after things? I am away a good deal, and I want some reliable man to carry my ben-house key and gather eggs and vegetables for me. i d give such a man a good home and take care of bim." "H-how did you say dat, Boss?" m I repeated it "Yer reckon I'd do, Boss?" "Well, yes, I think you'll do. Suppose yoa try it, anyway." We moved him over that evening, and he seemed very nappy in nis new borne, lie even wept, as, on entering it. hegianced around at its homely comforts; but he was evidently failing. and it was not long before he often kept his bed all day. He had been with us a month when, one even ing, be sent for me. "Set down heab, Boss, please sir," he said. "I wants ter talk ter yer. I'se worried in my mine 'bout my people my white folks. Dis worryment aint nuver come ter me fo' nut n, an X se stnrbed in de sperit" "Aren't you sick yourself. Uncle?" I asked, for he looked, very feeble. j. w ".No. sir, I aint sick. Is jes a-neann' home. Some days bit seems to me I kin heab de ripple o de water, X se dat neab de aidge. De bank s nigh cavin' but Gord's a-lettin' me down mighty tender mighty tender. "But dat aia't what meek me son for you. iioss. x se trouoiea 'Dout my people, x had a warnin' in my dream las' night, de same warnin' 1 had when .Marse Robert was kiit. an when Ole Boss died, an' when all we's troubles come; an' I 'spicion now dat hit's Ole Miss gone an' would yer mine 'quirin' 'bout 'em fo' me. Boss? ' Mbrusting his nana nervously under the pil low, be brought out a little soiled package, wrapped and tied in the corner of an old bandana handkerchief. "An' won't yer, please, sir, ter teck dis little package wid yer, an' ef Oie Miss is daid, jes' give dis ter Calline fer me? Don't 'low nut'n ter nobody else jes give hit to Calline, an' say as I sont it. Hit's $20 what I saved from my woodsawin', 'long wid all de change Ole Miss sont me. "I done saved it by, 'gainst de comin' o' dis time fo' Ole Miss, an' may be dee mout be scase o' money. Dee's address is in dar." Untying the handkerchief, I found on a scrap of paper tho name of a street and number, but no name of a person. Sometimes pride survives after a fall. "Tell Calline," the old man continued, "I say hit's fo' Ole Miss's buryin', and don't specify ter Miss Annie, case she's dat proud she moutn't teck it, but Ole Miss wouldn't cyar she wouldn't cyar. Ef I 'lowed dat Ole Miss would cyar, I wouldn't fo'ce it on her, eaze I would't have no right but she wouldn't cyar. "She nussed me when I was a baby Ole Miss did. "My mammy, she nussed Miss Annie reg'lar, an' yer know she an' me is jes' a month older dan one anudder, an' yoa know how women folks is, Boss, jes' cbangiu' roun' an' a nussin' one anudder's babies, jes' fo' fun lite. Ole Miss cay'ed me roun' an olaved wid me, same as you'd pet a little black kitten, an' soon's I could stan' up deed meek me clap an' dance, an' I couldn't scarcely talk befo' dee had me a-preachin' an' a-shoutin'. "Dee had me fur a rer'lar show when dee bad company. Dee jes' out an' out spiled me. I was jes' riz up wid 'em all, right in de house; an' den, all indurin o' de war. when all we's men folks was away. I slep' at Old Miss's do', an' Calline, she slep' on a pallet in dee's room, 'twix dee's two baids. "Dat's de reason we loves one anudder. We's done seen good an' bad times togedder good an bad times togedder." His voice faltered I looked at him quickly. He Beemed suddenly to have " fallen asleep. I felt his pulse gently, so as not to rouse him. It was weak and flickering, but not alarmingly so, I thonght. Calling Septima, and bidding her sit with the old man for awhile, I left him. About bedtime Septima summoned me to come into the cabin. I'dingo had fainted. He was reviving when I entered, and his eyes wandered with uncertain glance about the room. When he saw me he smiled. "Tell Ole Miss don't be afeerd," he said; "I'se a-sleepin' at da do'." His mind was wandering. He lay in a semi-, conscious state for an hour or more, then he seemed to be sinking again, but reaction came a second time. "Hit's a-cavin' in cavin' in easy an' slowHe's a-lettin' me down mighty tender." Suddenly a new light shone in his eyes. "Heah de come down de shinin' road Marster!:' The Master had come. At this supreme moment, when bis spirit passed away, his face wore again that expression of exquisite beauty, that illumination as with a spiritual light from within, that had gloirfied it once before when he spoke of the surpassing love of God. Early next morning, a neat old colored woman came in haste for Uncle Mingo. It was Caroline. The old lady, "Ole Miss," had died during the night, and Caroline had come for her father. Finding the levee cabin empty, she had mads inquiries and been directed here. Sha was in great distress over her new sorrow, and seemed much disturbed lest the old man had missed her. I insisted that I was the old man's debtor to at least the paltry sum needed for his burial rnd was it not so? We pay directly or indirectly for the privilege of hearing sermons; we pay for stories of self-sacrifice and devotion; we pay for poetry; we pay for pictures of saints. P had gotten all these, and what had I given? One month's rent of an old cabin, and-a few crumbs from my table. And in another sense still I was old Mingo's debtor. Had ha not made known to me the silent suffering of two Southern gentlewomen; and inasmuch as every true Southern man feels himself to be the personal champion and friend of every needy Southern woman, I might now become, in this small matter, a friend to the lonely ladv who hid her pride, as well as her poverty, in the little grief -stricken house on a shabby street "back of town." I asked this much, but a dainty note ia a

tremulous feminine hand "thanked Monsieur most heartily for all, his kindness, and for his present generous offer, but assured him that the privilege of caring for the body of one of the most beloved of her old servants was one which his former mistress eould not forego." There was no signature, but what was the need of one? A plain black hearse, followed by a single carriage, in which Caroline sat alone, came in the afternoon for the remains of Uncle Mingo. Moving slowly down St Charles street to Canal, they turned down and across, out four, five squares, then down again, till, finally, hesitat-, ing a few moments, they fell into line with another hearse that stood before a pair of boxstens in a tenement row, and continued to the old St Louis Cemetery. The old lady sleeps her last sleep in a marble bed, the stateliest in a stately row. I started as I read the name: "These people here and in want! Robert Marse Robert! Yes No, it cannot be! We were friends in "the army together he was killed at Shiloh. Something mustbe done but how? I must inquire down town at the. Pickwick. Or maybe through Caroline " As,-in the old days, Mingo slept outside his mistress's door, bo, in a little grave all his own, in the corner of the family lot, he sleeps now at her feet Written for the Sunday Journal. Heart and Soal. '.'Loving hearts and gentle souls shall rule the world some day." F. Marion Crawford. If Heart and Soul, upon the throne of Life, With gentleness, swayed scepter over men, And ruled with laws that unto mortal pen Were Love's, this world would be no strife Nor race for Mammon's portals, but a great, Glad June-day fraught with aroma and flowers And winefof health exhaled from Flora's bowers With peace of heart and mind man's purest state! And if that time were come methinks this earth Would be as when the Father spoke to man; And when the fruit of that one tree 'neath ban Hung mellow and untouched, of tempting dearth. But until then, might, not Right, will rule: And Love made Lust's capoed, belled, bedriveled fool! Will Robert Williams.

CHIPS. "Accept the season's greasing," said the basting-spoon to the turkey. ' . "When is a white horse not a white horse?" he asked his red-headed girl. And she smiled and answered: "When it's a chestnut" Strikes are queer things: the makes a living by them, while man loses by them every time. base-ball man the street-car A Michigan town boasts a young woman six feet and a half tall. She will have some trouble in finding a man to look up to. In the light of the . Rev. Mr. Pentecost's flop from religion over into anarchy, it is rather sig nificant that his initials should be 11. O. P. It is distressing to reflect that in time all that will linger of the present administration will be Mrs. Cleveland a recipe for brown bread. There is talk of a new magazine again. If it is at once adjusted to eat a wide swath among magazine poets, American literature will be ap preciably benefited. The Denver people must be trying to harass the Rev. Myron Reed into other fields of useful ness. X hey have commenced puousning a wood cut portrait of him in their daily papers. Edgar Fawcett, in an early nnmber of Lippincott, is to attempt the demolition of Robert Browning. It was a billy goat, wasn't it, that undertook to butt a locomotive off the track? Professor Fechner, of Leipsie University ,'died recently in Dresden, at the age of eighty-six years. There are those who believe he might have lived to be a hundred if he had not under mined his constitution by writing a work called "The Elements of Psychophysics." The Working Woman's Union, in Boston, re cently discassed the question, "Why does the Average American Woman Object to House work?' Thats easy enougn; it is because she cannot answer tbe door-bell with one hand and simultaneously bake batter-cakes with the other. It would certainly be strictly in order if the Right Rev. Bishop Potter should issue a card announcing that he is not by any means to be mistaken for the M rs. James Brown Potter, whose theatrical exploits have so long wearied the public mind. Science must hereafter be regarded as one of the deadliest enemies of rural courtship. Some meddling savant has discovered that a turneddown kerosene lamp is a magazine or noxious , gas that lungs must not be exposed to. A Brooklyn theater makes the announcement that it will furnish its patrons with umbrellas should it begin to rain during the performance. There is nothing startling about that; anybody can lend an umbrella. Getting it back again is where the trick will come in. The bustle is said to be going out. It is to be hoped that its banishment will not be universal. Bustle may not be in place in society, but it is the making of politics and business. The young woman who threw vitriol in her lover s face in Reading, Ira., the other day, is entitled to full benefit of the extenuating cir cumstances in the ease. She worked in an eye glass factory, and it was only force of habit that inspired her to make a spectacle of her lover. Another London Parker is coming to this country. Me is an evangelist ana is to nil en gagements wherever he may find them. If he is wise he will at once, upon his arrival, card the press disclaiming any relationship with Eulogizer Parker; then the public will endeavor to receive him without prejudice. All wool-growers and officers of wool-growiDg associations in the United States are requested to send their addresses to Albert Chapman, Mlddlebury. Vt. If it were only "wool-gather ers," now, lots of us might hear of something to our advantage. In New England the question has been dis cussed as to "Whether thought had ever crossed the Hudson river." If the Concord school represents "Thought' in tbe New England mind, the West rises hastily to resent the implication of any desire to ever become tangled up in any such foolishness. No wonder ballet girls prefer to spend a re spectable old age on the stage. A Liverpool woman, sixty years of age, has just been sentenced to seven years' penal servitude for steal ing a pair of pantaloons. It is a good thing that Jumping Dog, the In dian who fired the Cheyenne agency, committed suicide. Had ho lived he would have been se verely dealt with for bringing journalism into disrepute, having stabbed two men to death with a pair of shears. The Sentinel recently made touching refer ence to the "small craft which struggle far behind in its wake." "Behind in its waka" is a beautiful stroke of composition in itself. The Sentinel always was a blundering old party, and if it includes the Journal with the small eraft alluded to, tbe public will at once perceive that it has made the serious mistake of wearing its wake in front Type-Writing Made Easy. Philadelphia Record. Ihe new electric type writer relieves the operator of every duty except pressing down tho keys. The carriage moves automatically to the starting point whenever the end of a line has been reacnea, and also moves up one notch or line at the same time. But the most important office of the new instrument seems to be it's, use in receiving and transmitting telegraphic dispatches. It is said at the Patent Office that the instrument can be used both as a transmitter and receiver of intelligence over a single w ire, no matter how great the distance may be. The receiving instrument does not require the attendance of an operator, but prints the dispatch automatically. The instruments at both ends of the line print the dispatch sent, and so a safe guard against mistakes is provided. It is claimed that the relectric type-writer will be valuable as a local aid to business, and offers many advantages over the telephone. One advantage claimed for it is that no matter whether a person called up is at nis place of business or not the message can be printed through the medium of his type-writer, and will be there for perusal on his return. The dispatches printed are in letter form ana not an enaiess tape, x ne instrument has been christened the dynamograph. Atkr's Sarsaparilla braces vip the system, purifies and inrigoraUi. Invalids need it.

AN ASSASSIN'S CONFESSION

Noah Noble's Narrow Escape from Being Murdered While Governor. The Plot Revealed by the Confession of a Dying Criminal, Who Was Released from Prison by the Governor. A reporter of .the Journal was the guest of a nephew of the late Gov. Noah Noble a day or two ago. and, in the course of an hour's talk, the gentleman related an incident in the life of bis uncle, which appears to have escaped the notice of the chroniclers of Indiana events, but which constitutes a strange and not nnromantio chapter in the history of the State, showing how a brutal and unprovoked murder saved Governor Noble from assassination and how he subsequently pardoned the murderer and wonld-be assassin, and by this act of kindness brought out a confession from the repentant and dying criminal. Gov. Noble's residence, during his term of office, was situated on the rising ground about four hundred yards north of Washington street, and about the same distance east of what is now known as Noble street, and which was then the western boundary of'hT farm. The residenee was a brick structure fronting towards Washmgton street on '4 sleuth, and toward the ottane west, that nart of town of Indianap the city lying be n't western boundary of the farm and Al street being a large common. Whateve me the Governor could spare from the duties of the executive office was devoted to the improvement of his farm, and he took special delight in tending a large garden that stretched down the slops from the west front of bis house. But the Governor's happiness in the possession of a fine garden bad one alloy of misery. Mike Van Blaricum, a burly Irish neighbor, had the most prolific sow in the State, and with each recurring season her pigs made sad havoc with the plants in the Governor's garden. Van Blaricum owned a ferry-boat which plied the river just below tbe present site of the Washington-street bridge, over White river. "Mike," said the Governor one day, as he met Vnn Blaricum going to his ferry, "what will you tiike for that sow and her pigsl" Tbe Irishman din't want to sell and said so. The Governor told the owner how much the pigs troubled him 'and asked him to set a price, three times their worth if he chose, and the purchase would be made. Van Blaricum refused to sell at any price and the Governor said: "Money is the end of the law and if you will not sell at any price, I will shoot the pigs if they trouble me again." "If you do," was the heated reply, "I will shoot you," and with this the parties separated. True to their nature the pigs found their way into the Governor's garden the next day and, true to his promise, the Governor emptied the contents of a shotgun into the litter, killing two or three and crippling nearly all the others. Some three or four days after this incident Van Blaricum murdered an inoffensive young man named McPherson, under circumstances which aptly illustrated his brutal nature. McPherson lived west of the river in what was called Stringtown, now West Indianapolis, but wa3 employed as a cierk in one of the stores on the east Bide of the town proper. He was careful and neat in his dress, quiet and gentlemanly in demeanor, and, doubtless for no other cause than this, Van Blaricum conceived a strong dislike for him. In crossing the river twice each day as he came to and returned from his work, McPherson was forced to avail himself of Van Blancum's ferry, and on such occasions no opportunity was lost by the ferryman to taunt and insult his customer. McPherson bore the oft-repeated insults for a locg time, but finally purchased a canoe and ferried himself across the river each night and morning. This enraged the Irishman, and as McPherson was crossing the stream one morning Vanblaricum - rowed bis boat close up to the canoe and tipped it over, thus throwing McPherson, who could not swim, into the water. The drowning man caught hold of tbe side of the boat in the effort to save himself, but Vanblaricum beat his hands loose with an oar, and tbe helpless (victim was suffered to drown before his eyes. Vanblarieum was arrested and within a short time tried and sentenced to the State prison for life, the jury returnine a verdict of manslaughter, instead of murder in the first degree, as the prosecution had. failed to show that the brutal act was the result of premeditation. Vanblaricum was transferred to the penitentiary in 1S33, and soon became a victim of eonsumption. He had always lived an active, outdoor life and his confinement told upon him from the time he entered the prison walls. In February, 1835, a petition was presented to Governor Noble, praying for the release of the prisoner on the ground that he was in the last stages of consumption, and on the first day of April following. Vanblaricum was pardoned and returned to bis home hern to die. Within a few days after his t re turn, and when it was plain that his life was limited to but a few hours, he Bent for Governor Noble to come to his bedside. When the Governor reached the bed of the dying man, Vanblaricum referred to the shooting of the pigs just before his arrest for the murder of young McPherson, and stated that, on the night of the day that the threat regard ing the killing of tbe pigs was carried into exe cution, he had armed himself with a shotgun, and, seeing the executive leave the house, ha bad crept into the Governor's garden, and con cealed himself behind some shrubbery to await his return, determined to shoot him as he passed through the garden. Vanblaricum appeared very penitent, and expressed himself as happy that the Governor bad selected some other route borne that' evening, and had thus escaped the impending danger. He said that the kind ness of the Governor, in permitting him to return home to die, surrounded by relatives and friend3, had led him to confess the terrible deed that he contemplated in revenge for the killing of his pigs. The dying man sank rapidly from the moment of the Governor's visit, and a few hours later the vital spark went out, leaving a form which was but a shadow of the powerful being that less than two years before had murdered the unoffending McPherson, Upon thinking the matter over, tbe Governor recalled the fact that he had come down in town on the night in question, but, wishing to locate the site for a water-gap which he designed plac ing across Pogue run in his farm, he had gone to tbe northern part of town and thence to his farm. After locating the site of the proposed water-gap, he returned home and entered the house from the north instead of from the west, as was his custom, and had thus escaped Vacblaricum'8 murderous purpose, and, in fact, remained iu ignorance of it till the dying man relieved his soul by a confession. DISTINGUISHED INDIANA SCIENTISTS. Special Branches in Which Some of Them Are Recognized as Iligrh. Authorities. The Indiana Academy of Science represents the thorough investigation and methods of the younger scientists of the State, who keep abreast with discoveries and advanced studies of mod ern scholars. In the sessions of the organization recently closed those who furnished the fresher ideas and sustained the discussions are still young men, with the best of their work yet to come. They constituted an assemblage that have suffered nothing in comparison with older academies. They showed that Indiana natural ists are forming a school that already is leaving a marked impression oa scientific thought. Each has his specialty, in which he has become distinguished, the reputation of some being world-wide. There was Dr. D. S. Jordan, for instance who, though only thirty-six years of age, is at the nead ot the state u niversity, ana is regarded as the highest authority in ichthyology. His knowledge of fishes, their origin and ' habits, is not only wonderful, but has npBet many theories popularly favored until he eame into the study with the power of vigorous thought and original investigation. He has made many trips to Europe, and the British Museum often refers ichthyological questions to bim for decision. His opinion is accepted as authoritative. Dr. Jordan is a fluent talker and clear in the exposition of subjects which others would surround with technicalities and mystifying phrases. His writings are sketchy, spirited and within tbe comprehension of those least familiar with his special science. Dr. Jordan was born in New York, but his fame and reputa tion are largely of Indiana development. Prof. Jolin M. Coulter, or Wabash uouege, is also thirtv-.ix years old, with botany as his soecialty. His- researches have been extensive, while his works show the strong maiviauauty of an advanced thinker. The plant growth in the Mississippi railey has been made a matter of

special investigation by him, and his cooe.usions therein appear in two books, with whieh'he has enlarged the limit of botanical knowledge. H and his brother Stanley were both in China, where their parents, nativea of Indiana, toad gone as missionaries. Prof, Stanley Coulter, who is about thirty years of age, has the chair of zoology in Purdue University. He was graduated from Hanover College and has a penchant for botanical studies, although his reputation as a zoologist is high. He is one of the most promising of the younger generation of botanists. . . Prof. J. P. D. John, born in Indiana, is devoting his special study to astronomy. He holds a, high place as a mathematician, and is director of the McKisn Observatory at DePanw University. He is a tireless worker and clear thinker, ' and is making a reputation as an astronomer that will bring him to tbe front rank of this class of scientists. Prof. John C Branner, of the State Univer- .. sity, is a geologist whose decisions are looked upon as conclusive. Under an imperial commission he made a geological survey of Brazil, and is now surveying Kansas, with authority from that State. He is a Tennesseean by birth, but his education came largely from an Indiana ins titution. Of Ohio origin is Prof. T. CL Mendenhall. of the Rose Polytechnic, an authority in physics. He is known in all the academies of tbe old world as an experimentalist whose successes have done much to advance the science. Prof.

Mendenhall is an enthusiast in the study of seismology. In the American Academy the membership is limited to lOObut that number has never been reached. There are ninety . members, though, and of these "immortals" Prof. Mendenhall is one. For six years -he was In Japan, where be organized the imperial, technical schools. He was also the chief of tha Signal Department of the United States. Prof. O. P. Jenkins, of DePanw, is noted for his zeal, clearness and comprehensiveness of learning in biology. Like tbe others named he is young, only a little way beyond his thirtieth year. 'He is an Indianian, with the brightest future before him. Prof. B. W. Everman, also an Indianian. is one of the faculty at the State Normal Sehool. Hia study is ornithology, in which he has a high and wide reputation. He has written largely on American birds, and the American Ornithological Association has assigned to him the district of Michigan and Indiana, in which to study tha migration of birds. Amos W. Butler, of Brookville, is the indispensable factor in the academy. He ia atfenthusiast in science, and thoroughly versed in birds and reptiles, in which studies he divides the honors with Prof. O. P. Hay, of Butler University. He is the academy's secretary; and the accuracy with which he notes the proceedings and tbe neatness with which he puts them into form, are in keeping with his scholarly appearance. Prof. C S. Waldo, of tbe Rosa Polytechnic, is a mathematician, enthusiastie and progressive. He has written some twenty-five books on this subject,the latest, just issued, being a work on descriptive geometry. All difficult and incomprehensible problems go to him for solutions. Maurice Thompson, the State Geologist, also takes a great interest in the academy, in which, he speaks of those studies that have given him a national reputation as a writer and thinker. THE ORIGINAL NATURAL GAS MAN. Mr. George R. Root's Success in Finding Valuable Things in the Earth. Mr. George R. Root is the original natural gai man of Indianapolis. Two years ago he got up an ordinance providing for the introduction of natural gas into Indianapolis at a cost not to ex ceed 50 cents per thousand feet The fuel wai to be used for heating and mechanical purposes. Mr. Root had tbe ordinance printed and sent copies to all the municipal officers interested in the enactment of the legislation. The ordinance attracted the attention of certain elements which had more power than Mr. Root and the measure was Killed. Air. Root, with a twinkle in his eye, has since said that the elements which destroyed the ordinance might consent to its passage now, for time bas demonstrated that 50 cents a thousand is a good price for natural gas. "what led you to believe there was natural gas in this territory!' inquired a Journal reporter of Mr. Root "Wen, x cannot say, unless it was my experi ence," Mr. Root replied. "As a miner I have been boring holes in the ground for thirty years. When natural gas was first found in Trenton rock I concluded that it existed here, for I believed tbe stratum of Trenton ran this far west I knew that the stratum would be much the same everywhere, and that, if channels filled with gas existed at one place, they were to be expected at another. I wanted to drill d own and see. My idea was, on tbe passage of that ordinance, to go up northeast of the city, about Lawrence or Oakland, and drill a welL I would have found gas there. Then I intended to go south about ten miles. I would have found gas there. Then I was going east, in each direction ten miles, and there I would have struek gushers." "Can a man besome so experienced at finding things in the earth that he can tell what the geological elements beneathhim are by walking over the soil." "I think I can tell wberecoal exists nine times in ten. I found the good coal fields of tbe Indianapolis & St Louis road, in this State, after various experiments had led the railrod people to believe they were out of the territory. One Sunday one of the railroad officials came to me and inquired: 'Why is it we have no good coal on our linel' I told hint there was good coal in the territory, but that the road ran over the baekbone of the formation and that he would have to go north a mile or two or south into the Vandalia territory. I told him I would find coal north of the road if he would give me trackage to the mines I opened. Ha consented, ana I went out ona day and picked the place. It was a farm in Clay county, belonging , to State Senator Lindley, of Rockville. I came back home and wrote to him. We made satisfactory terms and I began drilling. At a half -dozen holes I found veins from four to six feet, and only at one place was the vein too thin to be worked with profit I opened these mines and they located the vast coal fields on the north side of the St Louis railroad." DR. HAWN'S MATRICULATION. A Joke That Was Played Upon the Late'Secretary of State While in College. Dr. T. B. Harvey, of this city, Dr. John M. Gray, of Noblesville, and Dr. J. I. Rooker, of Castleton, met at the New Dennison Hotel a day or two ago, and began recalling incidents of their student life in the Ohio Medical College at Cincinnati. In the course of the conversation a story was told about how Dr. Hawn. late Secretary of State, martriculated. The joke, it is said, was one Dr. Hawn would sometimes tell on himself, and one over which he always enjoyed a hearty laugh. Harvey, Gray and Rooker' had been in the college for some time when Hawn came down to Cincinnati. He was then a stockily built young Hoosier with ' a remarkably strong frame, on which he afterwards placed about 300 pounds of flesh. The verdure of Hawn was rather cheerful, and the boys soon found that he had recently added the word "martriculate" to his vocabulary. He used the word frequently, both on and without occasion, and was so anxious to martriculate that the boys told him they would not require him to wait until the regular dato, the succeeding Monday. A party was formed about the sturdy youngster, and started up Vine street to cross the canal, going over the Rhine, as it is called. Just beyond the canal there was a large packinghouse which happened at the time not to be operatise. The proprietor, a big jolly fellow, was present, and when the boys told him they wanted to martriculate Hawn, he readily fell in with the scheme. The young man was taken into the private office, stripped to the buff,, and then escorted through such of the various instruments of dressing a hog as would not hurt him. One of these consisted in bandaging his ankles and swinging him up head down with a gambrel stick, where he was properly doused with cold water and scraped. After it was all through the boys took Hawn to the scales, weighed him, gave him a lading receipt and took $5 as the matriculation fee; the money being applied to a continuation of the ceremonies in which the jovial Hawn participated with happy abandon and an occasional whoop. Dr. Harvey, Dr. Gray and Dr. Rooker are all white-haired, men now, "and they don't believe in hazing. Johnny's Composition Washington Star. Gees hisses, but ducks quacks, and wen Franky, that's the baby, is painfle in bis lap he hollers, but the lion roars like dissant thunder and makee the welkon wring! Uncle Ned. wich has been in Injy, and evry were, he says one night a lion com out of tbe woods and went to his correl to eat his cattle. Uncle Ned he got up and looked in the correl thru a erack, tbe lion shode his teeth, and Uno'.e Ned sad, "The iddiot thinks I am a dentist, but I havn't no time for to tend to him. He send for tbe lion tamer tc quell him with his I." Gees hisses, but ducks

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