Indiana State Sentinel, Volume 28, Number 34, Indianapolis, Marion County, 20 August 1879 — Page 7

THE INDIANA STATE SENnNEK T7EDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 20, 1879.

tOTE'S YOUNG DREAMS.

Oh, lot them langh at "Lovesyoung dreams, Who have grown worldly-wise; Those sweet, bright dreams, so rosy-nued. Earth seemed a paradise. We love them yet, the most of us, Disown it thoagh we may. And strive to banish thoughts of them Far from oar hearts away. The one bright ray to many live In Memory's casket gleams: The jewels treasured then ar t now Are Love's sweet, happy d aitib. Then let young hearts dream fondly on, Nor strive to rudely wake; Oh, may they ne'er the bitter cup Of blighted love partake.

"TIMMY."

Tim been

that He

K. H., in Churchman. It was a wee face: drawn with pain and fever-burned, with a restless yellow head that tossed from side to side in a vain search ra cool spot on the hard pillow. A low, bare room; cheerless and cold enough in the easterly storm that was rag- ; rins to the one window a woman was

bending over her sewing. A few chairs, a table, a broken stove, fireless and the fast jonlrxr shadows to fill up the corners,

were all The little one's heavy eyes found to Tost nn -when thev opened.

rt Jnis the rain was beating down,

dashing with heavy tapping fingers against the closed doors and windows; hurrying down motors in noisv. tumbling rivers, and

swennincr the navenient clear of all but a few

hurrvins men, the dripping newsboys, and

now and then a scurrying dog.

Such a pitiless wind was blowing, tool It

Tiwtnd dunked, whirled umbrellas about.

d blew away hats without the slightest re

gard for people s feelings. As every dash

came louder and harder against the window,

the little sick boy opened his eyes and moan

ed:

""Where's my Timmy ? Oh, why don't my Tim my come home?" "Hush, dear, there's a darling; Timmy'll

come home just as soon as he can. Maybe

he'll bring that red rose. Yes seeing the brightening look in the heavy eyes, "just as . like as not he's bringing it now. lie still, J that's a dear, till mother finishes this shirt;

the daylight s almost gone.

So the little boy tried hard to lie still, and could only moan and toss about until even

liia fUvAr-nllf! ear eftiiht the sound of a

' The door opened, and with a glad cry the

little sick boy threw his arms around the neck of a Urger boy, who had stolen cautiously into the room. "Oh, my Timmy!" was all he said, while his hot head nestled close to his brother's wet jacket, and a faint smile stole over his tiny pinched face. The big boy said nothing at all, but his face was working as he smoothed the tangled hair with his rough, grimy fingers.

"He s a lot better, ain t he, mother: Tim said at last, as he tried to look hopefully at

his mother, when the little one had dropped off into one of his brief sleeps. "No, Tim, he ain't no better," his mother said, mournfully, putting down her work to

rock backward and forward violently a mo

ment. "No; and he 11 never be any better again in this world. He's goin' to a better, and I wish you and me were good enough to

go along."

The big slow tears gatnerea 111 11ms eyes and slipped down on the yellow head over which he was bending, when, with a start,

the littie sick boy woke up and began his old

moan of "I want my Timmy. VV here s my Timmy?" "Here I am," Tim answered, pressing the little head closer to him. "Yoa've forgot I

just come in. . Waked up kinder sudden-like,

did nt you, dear "Did vou bring mv wed wose, Timmy?"

he moaned, "my beautiful wed wose? Mother

. said you d bring me one. "No, dear, I didn't," answered Tim gently. "It's a very bad day for roses," he went on, looking down in the eager, hopeful little face. 'You see, roses, big red roses, don't blossom

when the wind and the rain blows like as it does now, except in the glass-houses where rich people keep their flowers. Before very

long it 11 be summer, and then Timmy will

carry you u to the park. We 11 have a

jolly ride in the horse-car all the way, and

you 11 look out ot the winder and think

.you're drivin' the horses; and there you'll

see all kinds ol nowers lilacs and roses,

pink roses and red roses, and lots and lots of climbing vines all over blossoms. And, like

.as not, little un, it 1 ve had an extra day, a

rea :tip-topper you'll have a ride in a goat

kerndge, big as anybody, sittin up straight,

saving lio long, just like the little boys we

see last summer."

A wan little smile came over the sick boy's

face as he listened to this pleasant prospect;

but it faded, and soon he began to toss about

Again and say, "1 want a wed wose. 1 do

want to smell a wed wose, iimmy. i m so hot! so hot!" till Tim could not listen any longer, and, unclasping the hot hands from

his neck, hurried down stairs and out into

the fast darkening streets.

W irhmit f hmtriTii, mhof -it .1-11 1' Hmn Tim

. ,, iiinwu .uiumiig rt 1111b h-j woo uisiug, -1-11,1 had taken up his box as he left the house, and when he reached his usual stand the base of a great monument in the middle of a

square, across which too busy streets ran

he put it down in iront of him, the brushes

and blacking-box m their places, and lean'

ing against the cold gray stone tried to think it all out. Tim belongs to the shoeblack brigade, and

in pleasant weather his stand is a very profitable one. The 10 cents skip in very rapidly on bright mornings, and Tim's sharp eyes

never let a cnance lor business escape him; but in such rainy weather no one was willing

or anxious to have his boots blacked, as Tim

well knew, and he had been wandering about

all day in search of horses to hold, or any

thing in the way of work that would bring-

mm a iew pennies. All the money that Tim amd his mother

ould earn, even the little nest-egg they were beginning to lay up for the next winter, had

been used ia the little brother's sickness, and no matter how diligently he fumbled in his

ragged pockets, not one stray penny reward

. his search.

"How shall I get the little un a rose?" he

said to himself; "a real stunner of a rose that's got lots of smell in it. He's got to

have it!" -

The rain beat against him; the wind flut

tered his ragged clothes and tried to run off

wih his battered hat; a grinning newsboy shouted "Shine!" into his unheedin? ears:

and it was quite dark before Tim had made

p his mind what to do, and he came back to

i world with a start and a shiver to find

hip beat quite deserted and the gaslights flar

ing! on me wei pavement. I "The little un's got to have a rose anyhow,1

he Said again,- aloud this time, and then, pick

I n r' 11 TA Ilia .'Tllll fKU llllil'll1 T-.n-- Tim 1iii,m.1a4

' (-Ji t ' wvuwia. 1 1 1 1 11U1 L 1 1A4

across the;, street, and plodded up one and

down another,, until' after a long walk he

found himself m front of the flaring light of

a market. Around a hot coffee-stand ever so

maiiy bootblacks and newsboys were gathered, fxja knew very well where to find his

roendsoH a .rainy evening, it was not quite tieater time, and the boys were reinforcing

i.tiemselves with coffee and rolls "against the

evenings pleasures.

. 1 When Tim opened the door he wag greetied with "Here's Tim!" "Tim, have some

coffee, 111 treat" ""Where's

blacking shoes to-night?" But Tim had no time to spare now he had made up his mind what to. do.

said:

Boys, I want to sell mv kit. Here's tw

brushes, a hull box of blacking, a good stout box, and the outfit goes for two shillin's!"

win- away, Tim f asked one boy. "No. not exactlv. bovs. but I want a Quar

ter the worst kind just now." "Goin' on a 'scursion termorrow?" asked another.

"Got short of peanuts and must have some

more? I'll lend you ten cents," added a third.

" Wants some ice cream, I guess." propos

ed a fourth.

"No I aint after none of them things.

boys; but I must have a quarter," answered Tim.

One of the boys hunted 25 cents out of his

ragged pocket, and took Tim's box, who

looked a lttle wistfully at it, muttering, "I don't know what we'll do tomorror," and

then turning around hurried out of the market without anotherword.

"Somethin's the matter with Tim," the

boys agreed among themselves, and one of

their number decided to follow him and see what was the matter, and departed, whooping, cat-calling, running under horses' heads and dodging policemen as only a bootblack knows how. Tim made his way back through the same streets, past the monument, and up into the broad, brilliantly lighted streets, where windows were filled with beautiful things, and handsome carriages picked their way among the omnibuses and horse-cars. He stopped at last in front of a flower-

store and looked cautiously in between the bouquets displayed in the window. There was no one in the store but a man behind the counter looking over flowers; and as Tim watched him, he with a few twists of his skillful fingers put a few fresh geranium leaves around two beautiful deep red roses.

Tim opened the- door and stole in. The man only raised his eyes long enough to

shake his head at him, and then went on

with his work.

"How much for them?" Tim inquired,

coming up to the counter and pointing at

the red roses. Twenty-five cents; rather beyond you, I

guess, my bov,"the man answered.carelessly.

"I'll take 'em," Tim said briefly, laying

down his money. There was something in the boy's sad face that prevented the man from joking about

his eueer purchase as he covered the roses

carefully with paper and gave them to Tim.

Another sharp pair of eyes were looking

in the window, wondering more than the

flower-man did what Tim was going to do

with his flowers, and a very active pair of

legs that carried the sharp eyes around had a sharp race to keep up with Tim as she dashed along with his precious bundle. "When Tim opened his room door the little yellow head was lying very quietly on its

hard pillow, and the heavy eyes did not open until Tim, kneeling down on the floor beside him, said softly:

"See, little un, see wnat 1 ve brought you. Here's your roses."

The little arms were a long time in grop

ing their way to their old place around Tim's

neck, and the little voice Was very faint and

hoarse that answered:

"Hold 'em up so I can smell 'em, Timmy,

mv Timmy that's so good to me." So Tim

held the heavy head on one arm and the roses to the little hot face with the other hand, while Teddy's eyes traveled from his

brother s face to the roses and back again.

"What makes you cry, Timmy.' he said,

presently; "where I'm a-goin' they have all the wed woses a little un can pick, That's

what mother says. I'll save some for you

and mother, Timmy. like these," and the lit

tle boy triad to rub his white cheek against

the smooth rose petals.

Tve got my woses, he said again, "and

Timmy, I do love you."

Alter that there was a long silence; and when in the early gray of the morning, Tim laid the little yellow head carefully back on the pillow, and stood looking down at what was left of his "little un," he whispered to his mother: "I guess the Lord lets such as him go right in among the roses; don't you, mother?"'

When Tim, his eyes so full of tears that

he could hardly see where he was going, opened the door a good while after, he stumbled over his own box, while a bouquet of flowers rolled off from the box on the

floor. Fastened to the flowers was a bit of

paper, on which was printed ia very straggling letters, "Fur the litul un," and Tim

knew irom the clattering leet that went hurrying down the stairs that some of his friends,

the boys, had been watching over their pre

sent perhaps all the long hours of the night.

it was a queer bunch ot roses that the bootblacks brought for little Ted; very full in bloom they were, battered, half wilted,

and fading, for they had lain since early

morning in the hot breath ot the market;

but as they nestled among the yellow curls, and with the beautiful red roses were clasped

so tightly in the little one s thin fingers,

somehow Tim could not for the life of him have told why they seemed to comfort him

so much.

Like as if, you know, mother," he said,

tearfuily, the little un had so many roses now

he could leave such a lot behind him. t'an t vou 'most see him a standin'. with them curia

blowin' back, holdin up both hands full of

nowers, and a-callm , 'Timmy! 1 want my Timmy to see.' Oh, little un, little un, what made the road to heaven so short for you and so long for me? But I'm a-going to try. you

just remember, and some day you'll come a-

runnm to meet me, and 1 11 see the flowers

you've told so much about.'

That was long ago, and everybody but Tim and his mother have forgotten the little boy who loved red roses. ' Almost, but not quite, for only the other morning I was sitting in the public gardens watching the busy, chattering sparrows, when I overheard a

queer conversation. Some little ragged bootblacks were sunning themselves on the other end of the bench, counting their morning's

harvest of pennies and chattering quite as

briskly as the sparrows till at last one said

"But when it comes to bein' real good; the goin' to Sunday-school and keepin' straight along all the week kind; lookin

after the little fellers and seein' that nobody don't steal their brushes and punch their heads; yes, 'n standin' treats to the little fellers on rainy days; never sayin' a bad word before them, and keepin 'em under his eye all the time, that's Tim, and I guess the reason is don't you remember? the little

un."

Yes, they all remembered, and thought so too; and I thought, as I listened, of the blessed, beautiful promise that the dear Lord has made to those who are loving and gentle

to little children, and that if Tim always remembers, and tries hard to be good, patient,

and tender in this world, that in the world to come, somewhere very near the threshold, he will find his little one waiting for him, when his work on earth is done.

STUDY SKETCHES.

' I would not deprive life of a single grace or enjoyment, but I would counteract whatever is pernicious in whatever is elegant. If among my flowers there is a snake, I would not root up my flowers, but would kill the snake. , .

Marriage of To-Daj mad Yesterday. f ronMT Prograa. Wo are living in an unpoetic and unheroic

age; we discuss, investigate, and sell-examine until practical deductions have 'become the characteristic instincts cf modern civilization. Unlike our forefathers,, we take

nothing for granted passions and politics.

manners and means, time and eternity, all

alike, are subject to analysis and discussion. We have no more Mark Antonys ready to sacrifice life, fame, and victory for the love of woman; no more Bomeos and Juliets, Heloises and Abelards, immolating life and happiness, upon the altar of their love. Hence, our practical lover is a young philos

opher; lie counts the cost that will pay the

way, and if he can not find the ideal Juliet, he is pretty sure to content himself with the prosaic Mary.

Very Tow ol us would venture to be as.

practical as Miss Lucy Stone, a native of Massachusetts, and a woman of rare abilities. She was married, in May, 1855, to one of the

leaders of the Abolition party, and in the contract this very curious protestation -.is found expressed: ,

" W hue we acknowledge our mutaK affection, by publicly assuming the sacred "relationship of husband and wife, yet, in justice to ourselves and a great principle, we deem

it a duty to declare, that this act en our part implies no sanction of, or promise of, voluntary obedience to such of the present laws ot

marriage, as retuse to recognize the wife as an independent rational being, while they confer upon the husband an injurious and

unnatural superiority, investing him with legal powers which no honorable man would exercise, and which no man should possess.

W e protest especially against the laws which give to the husband: "1. The custody of the wife's person. "2. The exclusive control and guardianship of their children.

a. -inesoie ownersnip ot her personal, and use of her real estate, unless previously set tied upon her, or placed in the hands of trustees, as in the

case of minors, lunatics, and idiots.

"4. The absolute right in the product of

their industry.

"5. Also, against laws which give to the

widower so much larger and more perma

nent an interest in the property of his deceased wife, than they give to the widow in

that ot her deceased husband.

"6. Finally, againt the whole system, by

wnicn tne ic.gai existence ot the wile is suspended during marriage, so that in most States she neither has a legal part in the

choice of her residence, nor can she make

win, nor sue or be sued in her own name,

nor inherit property.

"We believe that personal independence and equal human rights can never be forfeited except for crime; that marriage should be an equal and permanent partnership, and

so recognized by law; that, until it is recognized, married partners should provide against the radical injustice of the present laws by every means in their power. We believe that, when domestic difficulties arise, no appeals should be made to existing tribunals; but all difficulties should be submitted to the equitable adjustment of arbitrators, mutually chosen. Thus, reverencing law, we enter our earnest protest against rules and customs, which are unworthy of the name, since they violate justice the essence or all law." The minister, Reverend T. W. Higginson.

of Worcester, who married this remarkable couple, in writing to a friend thus expresses

nimseii:

I never perform the marriage ceremony

without a renewed sense of the iniquity of our present system of laws in respect to marriage a system by which man and wife are one, and that one is the husband. It was

with my hearty concurrence, therefore, that

the protest was read and signed, as a part of

tne nuptial ceremony, and I send it to you that others may be induced to do likewise.

Ihere may be those who would regard

such an act of eccentricity as positively blasphemous, and while women may congratu

late themselves upon the many modifications in the above law referred to, and upon the success of some of their radical movements,

especially in tne industrial held, yet we know they are not a few who would enjoy a little opposition to the laws that not only

regulate tne tormation ot marriages, but the

interests and questions outside ot the mar

riage relation. It certainly is a sudden tran

sition lor an American girl partn-nlarly-

this marrying into a state of complete de

pendence, from one of absolute independence, and to become thereby legally incapacitated for the exercise of rights, as to place

ner nearly in tne condition et minors, or. those declared incapable of directing their own affairs. Is it not insulting the intelli

gence she was supposed to possess before

marriage On the other hand, the women of this part

of the world are not like those of Persia and Russia, for instance, where the bride's

first attention from her lord and master is a kick, and then a command to pull off his boots as a token of wifely submission. In Russia, one boot contains a whip, the other a trinket, and should the obedient lady be unfortunate enough to disclose the whip first, she gets a stroke for her trouble; whilst the selection of the trinket boot, is a most favorable omen. So imbued were they with this idea of servitude, that it was quite the fashionable custom for brides to present their lords, with artistic little whips of their own making, with just the same pride and pleasure, as though the gift were a pair of slippers, or a dressing-gown. Nor are we, like the Assyrians and Babylonians, sold off to the highest bidder. When the most beautiful were disposed of they were sure to go first the money received for them, was bestowed as dower upon the plainer girls. This method had at least, the advantage of providing husbands for all. The Spartan and Dorian maidens were captured by violence, and carried away on horseback. The married women of Athens were never allowed unveiled in the streets, and was entirely subject to her husband's rule. "The relation of husband to wife is that of master to subject," was the teaching of Aristotle, and even Plato somewhere hints that to become a neat and obedient housewife, should be the highest aim of woman. Other Greek writers when alluding to families, always considered wives as inferior to children. It will thus be seen, that the Athenian law and wisdom , recognized the respectability of a lawful wife, and not much more. As near as we may judge from history, Aspasia was the first woman to change and broaden their ideas upon this subject. The Athenians wished never to acknowledge her as the legitimate wife of Pericles, as it was against the law of Athens, under severe penalties, for a citizen to marry a foreigner, and Aspasia unfortunately was born a foreigner, said to have been a Milesian. No man dared openly oppose Pericles, but thev

so succeeded in branding with infamy the

name oi nis eiorious wue. that she was ac

cused of, and tried for crimes, of which Pericles knew her to be innocent. -He plead for

her, not with eloquent Bpeech alone, but with falling tears. He publicly . recognized her,

fended her against the unjust law of Athens.

The strange laws and customs of different

countries and ages have not been limited to the female sex. I am happy to be ablo to

state that men, have not always had such

easy times and all the advantages. These

same Greek legislators punished a man who

remained a bachelor; he was obliged to walk, naked, through the market place in winter.

singing a satirical song on himself. And under the laws of Plato, any mnn who did not marry before the age of 35, or who mar-

rieu aoove, or. below his rank, was punisnable. In 1605 it was decided by vote that

every unmarried man in the township of

Jwtham, Massachusetts, was compelled to kill six blackbirds, and three crows.

yearly, as long - as he - remained single; and should he, during the period of his penalty, really wish to marry, he

would be restricted from doing so, until he had ki. 'nl his quantity lof birds, and any

that 'V 'e in arrears. And in 1756, the As

sembly of Maryland laid a tax of. five shillings a year upon all bachelors, above 25 years of age, who were possessed of 100, and of 20 shillings yearly, upon bachelors, and

widowers without children, who were above that age, and worth 300. Would it not be

well lor our solons of the Jjegislatureto con

sider the feasibility of passing a law, taxing

our bachelors and childless widowers.'

It is said that in Venezuela, where a lover

asks for the hand of his inamorata, her father

gives him a very bard stone to pierce. This task takes a long time, and it is only when it has been accomplished, that the suitor's

request is granted, were such an undertaking to be given to the young men of this country, a labor-saving machine would doubtless soon be invented to expedite the operation. Marriages in France and England are a sort of royal gambling an exalted species of lottery. They should more properly be called alliances, they are so nicely calculated, a sort of a give-and-take arrangement, with no bond, no union, no

sacrament. And yet, wherein lies the nobler incentive in such a mariage de convenance as this, or in a human, congenial, and loving union as that of G. H. Lewes and George Eliot. Must we shut our eyes to right and

wron g, in order not to see the right? That there

is a strange lascination in a noble passion.

there is no contesting; and when one hears of

a truly sympathetic union, such as the one

just quoted, we have all sufficiently loved, to be ready to excuse, if not to palliate. They did

as Lucy Stone suggested; they appealed to

arbitrators, mutually chosen, who decided

their fate for them.

The life of the English girl is more like our own, only without the same freedom, or,

as our conventional cousin will have it

loose manners of the Americans. Young

English ladies, however, do walk out in the

daytime alone, but never in the evening do they attend places of amusement or parties

with gentlemen, not even with their betrothed husbands. I am told, however, that an engaged couple may make a visit of ceremony together, but this is an innovation. .And then

when the young lady is married, she is not overburdened with freedom, so that it is

rather difficult to determine which is the

hitppier period of her existence, the married

or si ngle state. AVere she permitted to follow

the dictates of her heart, she might not miss her freedom, but, considering all things, one can not assume that our fair English cousins

have a pleasant time of it. The French

woman, on the contrary, while she may lead a secluded life as a girl, is comparatively a free agent as a married woman. She loses

none of the thousand marks of diference lay

ished upon American women, but gains much in the advantage of complete guardianship;

and when the inevitable and proverbial rainy

day . comes, she is equal to the emergency, and without any appearance of false pride, falls to, and helps the husband.

She may make bonnets or robes, keep accounts or sell goods, give lessons in music or

painting, or utilize, in some way or anotaer,

one of the many resources she has within herself. Philosophers, from time to time, have decided that marriage was death to love, and

the many cases proving this doctriue, have

strengthened the foundations of the heresy,

There have been, and are, intellectual beings

who are not adapted for happy matrimony

There may be too much love, on the one side,

and too much mind on the other. Then

comes a lack of comprehension from the lov

ing one, and a lack of love from the Intel-

lectual, and thus the little wedge of division

commences its work. Alas! for the dura

bility of such a union. I wonder how the much-honored custom, once extant in Zurich,

would affect the disposition of such a couple.

When an application was made in Zurich

tor divorce, based on incompatibility ot tern

per the magistrate, according to the customs of the country, had the parties applying shut

. ...... - . -

up in an isolated tower on the lake. There they remained for 15 days, obliged to in

habit the same room, having only one bed, one chair, one knife, one fork; so that they

were entirely dependent upon each other for

their mutual comtort, it, alter this, trial.

they still persisted in their demand, then the ordinary procedure commenced, and the legal tribunals decided. Very frequently the

application for divorce, at first so warmly solicited, was entirely abandoned, upon the

release Irom the tower.

There are no marriages more ill-assorted.

than those of Americans with.foreigners; as a rule they prove a mistake. I remember

onco listening to a dissertation upon ' this

very subiect from one of our foreicn consuls,

He referred, principally, to the bargaining for titles, indulged in by ambitious American

mothers, and the actual selling, of rich and beautiful daughters, for a titled name, to the

cruel treatment they invariably received, to

the mutual differences in opinions their diverse religions, customs, and friends. And

it was enough to make one s heart ache, to

hear of the cases that had actually came un.

der his personal observation. Uno tact be remarked as being particularly noticeable, namely, that foreign ladies are rarely sought in marriage by American gentlemen. There may be two reasons for this; first, that the ladies in question have no desire to entomb

a high-sounding cognomen by becoming

plain Mrs. John Jones, or even Mrs. T. J. B,

Mortimer. But let us hope for the credit ot

our own dear girls that the second reason

may bo, the- superior attraction of home

material.

as his cherished wife. That he found in her

a companion, worthy to share his honors and fortune, is proved by constancy with which, at his own peril, he stood by her in

all her trials and ' vexations, defied the calumnies of the hostile rabble, and de-

POK'S WONDERFUL, INTERPRETER. The Old Richmond Negro Wfcom the Faet Tanght to Recite His Lines. Mew Yrk Son.

"Do you see that fine-looking old negro

coming down the street, with bine coat and brass buttons, and a slight limp in his gait?" said my friend W , as we were walking up Main street. Richmond. "Yes." I replied. "Well, sir, that -was formerly the bodyservant of Edgar Allen, the gentleman who adopted Poe. We take great pleasure is the old darkey here, and hardly a week passes that he does not assist at some private entertainment. Though he can neither read nor write; his memory serves himr and almost all the poetry Poe taught him he retains, and he delivers it well. You must know hin," By this time we had approached, and my friend introduced James Stirling. A fine specimen of a negro he was tall, well-shaped, and but little bowed, though 70 winters had frosted his hair, and "tried to twist his joints," he said. He was on his way to Zion church, where he was deacon and trustee, and was a little late.

"But I want to introduce you to my New

York friend, who is a great admirer of Massa

I'oes poetry, said W . That was enough to deter the old fellow, and without any seeming pride, but all affection, he removed his hat the second time, and stood the rest of the interview un

covered. We talked long enough for me to

get his promise of an afternoon conference at

VV a 1 lace s tobacco warehouse, where he was

night watchman.

My thoughts all sermon time were of the

negro and the treat in store for me; and I learned from him afterward that more of the spirit of Poe than of God possesssed him

through his morning service.

Two o clock found me before the long, low

warehouse, and soon the limping step of the

negro sounded but a little way off. He came wiping his brow, heated more by the excitement that the occasion promised than by the

weather. A quick recognition and a hasty

entrance and we were alone. He seated me

on a rather dilapidated stool in the second loft,

and there began his tale of the poets life. The incidents were of the common sort of childish

scrapes, outbreaks of temper, gambling, de

bauchery, and the end in .Baltimore, the sight

of which, "thank God, he (Sterling) had been

spared!

These were ot no interest to me, for they

were out of all reason, and were unlicensed,

inasmuch as Poe had had bright example and

kindliest discipline. But when the old negro

came to reeitmg oe s lines, hethrewsomucb

fervor into them that 1 felt the poet s spirit.

and remained entranced and delighted. What a voice, and what control 1 The

telling ol "Annabel Tiee was made more pitiful than you can imagine; and so were many other of the shorter poems. But "The

Bells went beyond all my idea of human

power. "Jlassa 1 oe had told him there was

no use trying to make sleigh bells, but uad

made him stop and listen to all Are and fun

eral bells." And well had he studied them,

and what a delight it must have been for Poe

to hear him imitate them, making them near or distant. With poor acoustics, still he

made that old loft ring out his pleasure, his fear, or his grief, as the poet had taught him to feel and to express them until with dying

measure and echo he pronounced, "To the moaning and the groaning of the bells!" and

burst into tears.

The "Raven" was given in a mood of

revery, until the first response of the bird.

then jocularly, then with great seriousness,

and, finally, exasperated to madness, the in.

terpreter threw the box, that had served him

as seat and rostrum, at the imaginary bird,

and fell prostrate. His voice in the last lines

weakened to a husky whisper, and his eyes

wandered with the "shadow on the floor. 1

have seea fealvini in "Uivil Death, and can

only instance him as an approach to that

negro s abject terror and surrender. Two niirhts afterward I slept in the poet's

room in the old Main street mansion, where conclusively to my mind were started the thoughts that produced "The Raven", and

"The Bells. I he room had an 'oriole win

dow and deep door casings, and the furniture

was old-fashioned and heavy. The stuned raven was there "above the door:" the bust

of Pallas was missing. As soon as I saw the bird in position I grasped the whole situation and could imagine the poet watching, as he lay with his hands under his head (as was his

habit) the moving curtains, : the flickering

candle light, and the shadows. Until long

past midnight 1 busied myself in changing the raven's position, trying to get his shadow on the floor, and I succeeded. Satisfied with

that, I tried to sleep, but 'twas no use, every sound was magnified, and the fire bell was

my only relief.

1 remember that roe, in answering certain

malicious articles as to the conception of the

Kaven, wrote that it was simply a mechan

ical effort, and that the last stanza was writ

ten first. I was convinced of the partial un

truth of that statement, A stronger nerve

man than Poe would have treated differently

sound and shadow, and I could imagine him scared beyond sleep and giving his fancy

rein, while the bird and the lire bell were

simply the motives.

VV hat became of the negro f

We buried him in 1806, and James T.Bra

dy,-Kate Bateman, and myself paid the ex

penses.

' Love of Children.

That is a bold person who willingly con

fesses so flagrant a fault in his character as ah absence from his composition of the love

of children. . For that love has become uni

versally recognized as a necessary ingredient of worthy character, as, in fact, something

by the absence of which one is indeed un

natural, and, so to say, monstrous, uwirig to this fact, it is very seldom that one admits,

even when feeling it, that children are a nuisance, and more generally people consider

it wise to pretend interest and anection whether it is genuine or not. Of course, as

everybody knows, the politic person, the

electioneering man, the woman with an ob-

lect to gain, always begin by kissing tne

children; and tne behavior oi many young

ladies in regard to the matter was long ago j

eancatured when they were represented

crowding areund the nurse who brings in the baby to the christening, and asking, as if

with innocent ignorance and a reminiscence

of kittens and puppies, if the dear little thing can open its eyes yet.

But there are many people woo honestly

think they do love children, and would be mightily indignant if told that they deceived the selves; that children annoyed them, and were on the whole rather disagreeable than otherwise to them. These individuals do love children for a little while, as an amusement when they have nothing else to do, and to caress when the child is sunny and pretty

and sweet and clean. But let the child be

care whether the child screams or not; often

inoeea, to them, as to the old miner in the California theater, who, when a baby set up its pipes, called out to the orchestra to stop

their strumming and let bim hear the baby yell, the sound is a sort of music; and like the man who considered being beaten at

whist the next pleasure to beating, they had

rather hear a baby yell than not to have one

around at all. -

Those who love children are not those who

merely love the pleasure they can get from children; those love, not the cWldren, but the pleasure, and the moment it ceases to he pleasure, then farewell to the children. Those who really love children,, love all of them, the troubling and the teasing that they make, the washing, wiping -and worry

ing; they do not tire with their lretting, they are not disgusted with their carer they are not annoyed with their questioning, they are not made nervous by their bawling; they take them in their entirety; it never occurs to them to say that these things are disagreeable, for, in reality, the agreeable things the

loveliness, the velvet cheeks, the exquisite mouth with its little pearls, the perfect eyes, the opening soul, the charming intelligencer the constant sense of the creation of a new human being going on under the eyes, the receptivity of love, the thing of love, all so far over-balance anything that is not in accord with them as to put it entirely out of .:-u i " s 3

Bigub aiiu iiimu.

lo those who love children it does not oc

cur to wait before giving love in order to see-

if they are willul and spoiled, whether they cry too much, whether they are going to give ; trouble or not; they only say, "Here is a

child; let us love it." They are ready to get up in the night with it, to walk the floor

with it, to tread on tiptoe if it sleeps, to

abandon themselves to its amusement if it

wakes, to sing to it, to talk to it, , to obey all its little tyrannies, to stay at home from

other pleasure for it and think it no sacrifice

to forget themselves in its existence and when it is the most trouble to be thankful that there is a baby in the house.

These are the people who love children

not merely they, i may be seen, who love the peachy cheek which yields to their kisses

with pleasant sensation, and the fra

grance of the sweet baby breath; not

merely they who like the tickling that their vacant or tired minds recive from the action of the young expanding intellect of the tiny creature, who are entertained by the stam

mering of the first thoughts and the effort after the first syllables, who are pleased in

fine weather and run away in foul. 1 hese latter are the summer friends of the little people, and full soon do the little people find it out; for, as a general rule, one needs no better criterion as to who it is that loves children than observation of the fact of whom -

it is that the children love. It is true that children will be amused and pleased for a

while by the summer sort of friends; but let a tumble, a grief, a pain, come to them, and the summer friend is discarded unerringly for the one whose sympathy is steadfast, and

who does not ask whether it is a good child

or a bad one, a pretty or a plain one, a rich

or a poor, a clean or a dirty, but only whether

it is a child.

"Frank, I love good little bovs," said a

worthy parent, trying to do his duty to an

obstreperous young son.

"Yes, papa, came the reply ot the lour-year-old, "but Uncle So-and-So loves little boys whether they are good or not." And that, it seems to us, is the only way to love them; for it is not the way in which

we hope we ourselves are loved, not only by one another, but by the Power above us? It is also, indeed, the only way in which to btain lasting pleasure from the little beings; for it is only when we have surrendered ourselves, without thought of what we obtain in return, but because we can not he'p it, and

would not help it if we could, that we find

out what they have done for us, the light and

joy that they have brought into the house,

with all the labor, contusion and care that they have brought there, too; for more than once has it chanced that into a tumultuous and halting household the advent of a little child has brought peace and harmony, and

love, too, not only foritselt, but lor all around it, till it has made lives dear atd desirable that before it came seemed impossible to live;

for there are few such peace-makers as a baby; none such, if we may believe the poet, as a baby's grave. .

" Keep the Body Erect.

An erect bodily attidue is of vastly more

importance to health than most people gen

erally imagine, urooked bodily positions, maintained for any length of time are always

injurious, whether in the sitting, standing or lying posture, whether sleeping or waking. To sit with the body leaning forward on the

stomach, or to one side, with the heels eleva

ted on a level with the head, is not only in

bad taste, but extremely detrimental to

health. It cramos the stomach, presses the

vital organs, interrupts the free motions of I ugly, and it does not attract them; let it be the chest, and enfeebles the functions of the neglected, and of a dirty face and it repels

abdominal and thoracic organs, and, in fact,

unbalances the whole muscular system.

Many children become slightly humpbacked,

or severely round-shouldered, by sleeping

with the head raised on a high pillow.

When any person finds it easier to sit, or stand or walk, or sleep in a crooked position

than a straight one, such person may be sure his muscular system is badly deranged.

and the more careful he is to preserve a straight or upright position, and gat back to

nature .again, tne better.

them; let it scream, and they can't for the lifo of them see why people should bring

their children on journeys, or to church, or into the drawing-room, or at the table according to the situation of the particular annoyance at the moment

But they who surely and absolutely love children do not stay to see whether their faces

and frocks are clean and pretty or not the child is a lovely thing to them under all the

masks of the dust of which we are made, the

soil, the wear and tear; they do not much

Humor in the Family. Good humor is riehtlv reckoned a most

valuable aid to happy norae life. An equally

good and useful faculty is a sense ot humor

or the capacity to have a little fun along with

the humdrum cares and work or lite. W e all know how it brightens up things generally to have a lively, witty companion who sees the ridiculous points of things and who can turn an annoyance into an occasion for laughter. It does a great deal better to laugh over some domestic mishaps than to cry or scold over them. Many homes and lives are dull because they are allowed to become too deeply impressed with a sense of the cares and responsibilities of life to recognize its bright, and especially its mirthful side. Into such a household, good, but dull, the advent of a witty, humorous friend is like sunshine on a cloudy day. While it is always oppressive to hear persons constantly striving to say witty or funny things, it is comfortable, seeing what a brightencr a little fun is to make an effort to have some at home. It is well to turn off an impatient question sometimes, and to regard it from a humorous point of view instead of becoming irritated about it. "Wife, what is the reason I can never fin a clean shirt?" exclaimed a good' but rathe impatient husband, after rummaging some time all through the wrong drawer. His wife looked at him steadily for a moment, half inclined to be provoked, then with a comical look, she said "I never could guess conundrums; I give" it up." Then he laughed, and they both laughed, and she went and got bis shirt, aad he felt ashamed of himself and kissed her, and then she felt happy; and so what might have been an occasion for hard words and unkind feel

ings became just the contrary, all through the little vein of humor that cropped out to the surface.

Some children have a peculiar faculty for

giving a humorous turn to things when they are reproved. It does just as well oftentimes to laugh things off as to scold them off.

Lauzhter is better than tears. Ix't us nave

a little more of it at home.

Wtmmtt. I detest the talk we so often hear about tho

relative excellences of the two sexes about

the superiority of one and the inenonty of

the other, To me the idea that a woman

wants only a "clear stage and no lavor null training and education, and suitable

circumstances, in order to develop so as to be

able to cope with him in the struggle oi mo to me such a thought is utterly repulsive

The great charm or a woman is mat sne is diverse from man; not a man in the lower stage of developement. She is the complete ment of the man; her nature, her disposition, her powers, supply what is lacking in him. The two together make a complete orb; apart, they are only segments of the circle. Kindness, U nothing itronirer, should Induce anyone to use Dr. BuU'a Baby Syrup for the relief of the diseases ol babyhood Prloa, 25 cents.