Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 10, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 September 1872 — Page 1

THE MAIL.

Office, 3 South 5th Street.

[Written for The Saturday Evening Mall.] A PLEA. it tih .It-* 'it

BY I. H.

VOBD. 1Cr I.J- K-J

Dream not my child, *Tls

a

world of hard strife, not of dreams. Tlie farmer looks not at the gl^ainii

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Of the sun through the wild Twining vines of the wood, But abroad oil his wide, waving grain And he dreams, but his dream in of gain, And hi* deed follow* fast on his dream. Dream not and work well!" Such warning spake a voice now dead, •, My father, how have I obeyed 1 Ah, what, what have I done Instead •,

Alas! I have not worked, bot dreamed. Year In, year out, my soul has teemed With fancies which were not, but seemed.

I have not worked. The wild turmoil Of life affrights me. I reeoii From ith hard ways and weary toil.

I go book-laden to the wood, And, In the calm, sweet solitude, Waste hours and nours in dreamy mood. I shriuk from man, I know not why, Huye ttiat a look, within his eye Forbids to ask his sympathy.

Men call me profitless, a drone. In the vast work-hive, where they groan, Wearily Jaylnx stone on stone. s,

What are your dreams to us," they say, Whose tireless lolling smooths the way, O'er which with aim.ess feet you stray

Alas! I know not. But it seems 4 »ts I can not gather aught but dreams,

Take them—for I would do my share, Some little of the burden bear Of the great world's great load of care.

Yet am I still the self-Mime child On whom my father godly smiled, Have now somewhat less iroe and wild.-

Then lot mo dream, 0 busy throng, Whose hearts are brave, whose arms strong To bear the tide ol toil along. Be me the child to watch your work, V* And In cool, nhady places lurk, Nature's predestinated ulilrk!

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Aught which another one esteems. v. Oil, take them I have nothing more.. I cannot add to the world's store, jjut these poor bits of worthless lore,

Save while I dreamed the years have fled And left gray hairs upon my head amvs And In my heart fond visions—dead,

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Town-Talk.

f,

hooks

are groat tolltalos. They tell family socrots and personal secrets. If one has learnod to listen to the gossippy talk of books, and to understand It, he has acquired nlmost fts great an art for loaming socrots as that of the modern clairvoyant or spiritualist. It would startlo some peoplo to know that a book cannot stay In tho family, in fact •can hardly enter the family, without having lamily seerots and bits ot family history written all over it. Tho practiced oyo will detect this writing In among the letters of tho tltlo, in tho binding material, on tho clean white pages, and under and around tho marks of soiled lingers. Inside and out theso books show tho mark* of a printing press not run by steam or daubed with Ink. T. T. has learnod to study books for tho sako of information not convoyed by the black lines of letters and words. Hooks often foroe upon him information, sometimes pleasant and sometimes not pleasant, while waiting In the parlor or drawing-room for tho man of the house, or tho woman, as the case may bo. Sometimes Information, pleasant or unpleasant, comes from a glance,— an unintentional glance, at tho books on tho center table, tho case, or whatnot. Thoro Is old friend Shakesides. Tho lirst tlmo T. T. went to his house while waiting in tho libraiy he saw on one shelf among his staid and sober books, a copy ol Pickwick Papers on another shelf sandwiched between other stnid works, was a volume of Artemus Ward's nnd little further on Phenlx Papers, and little further yet a book containing the wittiest sayings of Lamb. The histories and books on science aald, "Shakesldes is a thoughtful man," and the book* of fun aud nonsense said "Shakesides is a jolly fellow." T. T. knew before he had set eyes on any thing but tho books, that he was about to meet a good natured man, one who could onjoy, and probably crack a good Joke, a man genial in business, pleasant in his family, and cheerful tn his religion. T. T. knew all this just as well after he had read it

In tho titles ot those books as he does now after a doseu years' enjoyment of the friendship and society of Shakeaides.

Then there la Glum. Any stranger would know what to expect from his books. Sober, serious, heavy books, and nothing else. The sober, serious and he*vy book* tell of a thoughtful, •arneat man, and there being no others, these books tell that ho is only sober, serious, severe. The children must be **111116 men" and "little ladle*" In hi* house. There is no ring of loud laughter from old or young. No jokes. "Grand, gloomy and peculiar** la the story which these books tell.

The other day T. T. took thff Inven tory of a center table and book shelf, and (bund two or three of Dickens' works, four ol Charles Heade'a, and in fact, nearly all the works of Action, all tho most fashionable works of fiction,

which had appeared within a year or two, some of them very good and some ol them about as bad as they make them. These and nothing more. T. T. had hardly become conscious of the conclusion, briefly expressed in the word "Simpletons," when Mrs. Flash was introduced. Mrs. Flash, the own* er of the books, was a woman well dressed,—a little overdressed,—with rather a pleasant face, but Ave minutes conversation confirmed the report of the books. She evidently is a woman without thought, could talk dress, parties, tho weather, and nonsense endlessly, but good sense not at all. Bah Such a woman. One thing Is more disgusting, and that is such a man. The books told it all.

Mr. Grand, the merchant, has some beautiftil books of engravings, very costly, but nothing to read. Nobody reads in this house.

Mr. and Mrs. Grundy have put some beautifully bound annualson their table which say^ "Mr. and Mrs. G. think it is nocossary to have some books, and they haven't sense enough to judge of a book except by its binding. Poor fools!" That is a story which T. T. reads on the books in a great many parlors.

T. T. went over a house the other day and found in different parts of it, books of poetry, novels, histories, books of fun, and all scattered here and there in such delightful confusion, and in out-of-the-way places. Each book seemed to say "somebody has just been reading me." And they all together told of a family of literary tastes, of culture, thought, earnestness and cheerfulness, and withal of a happy family.

Deacon Positive's books all declare that be believes as his fathers did, and never will change. Captain Confident's books declare that he is bound not to hold any more old views than he can possibly help. If Darwin is right he is bound to know it, and he rather thinks he is. Deacon Positive's books are all on the orthodox side and Captain Confident's all lean towards skepticism. A stranger need only see the books to know the men. Books are great telltales*

Husks and Nubbins.

"-4U'* falrfW

SEER.

To me there is alwayssomething peculiarly painful in the death of a young person. It seems so hard and unnatural. When I sit by the bod of such a ono wasting away day by day until the doatli-mark grows plainer and plainer beneath the bloodless skin, 1 almost involuntarily ask:

Who has sinned, this man or his father, that so great a curso has come upon him ?»_for it does soem indeed that gomo malignant demon is wreaking vongeance for some real or fancied wrong. It is but natural that tho old should die they fall oasily, like rlpo fruit. They have seen and acted, enJoyed aud suffered—or at least havo had ft chanco to do so, and their end is liko evening at the close of day. And even when death cuts down thoso in the prime of lite we can reflect that perhaps they have exerted the best power there was in them and done, if not all, yot the most worthy of which they were capable. But how different with tho young! Tbe end at tho beginning night, sudden, aud dark, while the beams of morning are breaking Every young person is a conundrum which only the years can solve. Look at the pallid corpse of your friend there in the coffin what a mystery, never to bo unfolded In this world, he Is. What could he have dono What would he have done How many chances there were In life for him. How many paths branching off here and there, leading God knows whither. Ah, what would you not give It those stony lips oould open once more and the spirit from tbe other world speak through them, explaining the dark mystery!

The ancients, who used to love to tell their truths In poetry, said that, whom the gods love die young," and gentle-hearted Wordsworth expressed the same Idea In his familiar lines. "The good dle^roung, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust

Burn to the socket." And it does seem that those of the youthful group on the play-ground whom tho death-angel singles out for his own are the beat and purest. Or is it that these are less able to escape him Perchance so. The stern, ruggod nature will battle successfully for life against all odds. If It Is wounded It heals the wound with tbe balm of its inexhaustible vitality If it i* crushed, It will struggle up and regain its wonted strength after the wheel of misfortune has passed on. It laughs at untoward circumstances nnd snaps its fingers In the face of death for it carries a magic charm In theexnberanceof itssanfnine nature and it knows that it can no more die than life itself. But the gentle, th* tlm'd, the goM they have all delicacy and lack all strength whose Imaginations are strong as their »,{ 3# 1 1

bodies are weak "The precious porcelain of human clay," how hardly the rude world uses them! Over them how fate rolls its lumbering wheels and soems to glory in grinding them to powder!

The other dsy I heard that such a one was dead. When I went upon the college grounds, a shy and timid boy, he was among the first I met. His quiet and modest bearing drew me to him, and during the years that followed he was one of the few I loved. Of a graceful and not robust form, with a fine, clear cut and too bloodless face, there was a manly frankness and sincerity in his countenance which could not help prepossessing everyone in his favor. He was good-natured and cheerful and while not overflowing with mirth and hilarity, was of a fine social disposition in his quiet way. None of us suspected, as he came morningafter morning, to plod through the tedious, and, to ono of his imaginative cast of mind, weary routine of the day, that the seal of death was on his brow and that the slow poison was already at work in his veins. But so it was. No quick change was visible, but term after term his strength decreased as if some secret vampyre were were sucking his life away.

The years passed by, one, two, three, four, and at last he stood with his classmates on the graduating rostrum. To him, the graceful and favorite essayist, was assigned the congenial task of writing the "class prophecy." Poor fellow! could he then have prophesied of his own so untimely end Better than any of the performances of 1870, was the prophecy of the "class seer." Full of dainty thought, quaint humor, sparkling originality, startling suggestiveness easy, flowiug, charming with its melodious arrangement and interesting with its aptness of illustration, the prophecy, road in a clear and earnest tone, held everyone in the vast assembly a° delighted listener. I rememher.well its burden, what shall we young men do? Thrown out now upon the current of the busy, thronging world, whither shall we go and what shall we do that will be seen and noticed Ah, the seer prophesied well but where now is the seer? Those of whom he spoko are scattered fur and wide, putting strong hands to the spokes and broad shoulders to the wheels of the vehicle in which lies their destiny. One by one they are taking up tho tools which others have laid down forever, and pushing on the work of progress. But where, in the midst of toil and strife, is tho seer.? Ah, even tho light pen foil from his nerveless fingers when ho had only shown with what grace and delicacy be could wield it. Slowly and patiently bis comrades aro working their way up in tho world's notice where is ho who should have occupied a higher position and hud a wider fatne than any of them? Scorning life, tho gentle spirit took its flight to tho world where, perchance, there are no rudo winds to strike it with their cold blasts. Those that remain will not forget the seer, and, remembering his short and blighted life, will complain less of their own buffettings and discouragements.

For one,let mo place ii Wroath of flowers 011 the grave of him who is unknown to the world,but whom the world would have known only to honor, had it not been written otherwise. Nor do the few who know him honor him the less that tho harps within his breast remained untouched when his fingers might have wrought from it entrancing music. Rest in peace, gentle dallier with the nymphs and graces. Perhaps for thee it is as well that the clouds weep rain-drops on thy grave and weave upon it a web of everlasting greenness. Perchance it is as well for no harsh blasts shall buffet thee where thou now art, nor shalt thou brink from the heavy tread of a world which tramples heedlessly on the flower to gather the coarser plants which mingle it its food. Perchance it is as well for if thou hast done but little, how many things also hast thou escaped suffering If thy name is known only to a few, is not the love of the few that which brings fullest joy and is most valued Perchance it is as well for who knows whether the gatherings of our earthly life are ought but dross when the light of the soul world falls upon them Who knows whether our earthly jewels shall not turn to dust as we carry them through the portals of the tomb Perchance it is as well there may be a death that is better than life, and Fate may sometimes soften its fiat from a curse into a blessing. So, at least, wo would fain hope.

IxittASAPOLT* is oecomlng a perfect

Kbi

ntdise fbr murderers. There are no th*n four awaiting trial now In tho Jail. Life seems to be regarded as of so little value that It may be taken upon the slightest, often upon no provocation whatever. It will continue to be so until the aqueamishness about hanging gives place to an earnest desire to avenge tbe outraged law and protect a much abased community from :hc reefc* disregard tor life, which is generally evinced by a large portion of 'our population.—{Ind. Mirror.

People and Things.

Barnum is worth 9000,000. Joe Jefferson is worth |100,000 Lydia Thompson is worth $250,000 John Owens takes care of 600,000. Charlotte Cushman is worth 1300,000. Mark Twain's father-in-law wants him to write a life of Christ.

A Western preacher says: Lose your conscience and tbe jig Is up. Advice to DentistB—Teeth should not be pulled until thoroughly ripe.

JEsculapius invented the probe, but tbe elephant introduced the proboscis^ Ben-Zlne and Maggle-Zine are of the same family. Both liable to explode.

Edwin Forrest tries to keep healthy, because he's got $1,500,000 to tuko care of.

There are one hundred and sixty-four coopers in the Illinois penitentiary at Joliet.

It is now said that King Amadous got up that assassination attack just for popular effect.

Mr. Stanley's little bill against the New York Herald is only $50,000. Africa is expensive.

There was one Christain at the Louisville Convention this week—Christain Schawrtzwalder. j?

According to a German paper, if musician has recently died at Schauenstein whose will was fouqd set to music.

There are two things in this world that are not safe to trifle with—a woman's opinion and the business end of a wasp. "The Lord Almighty has just left," was Mr. Lincoln's way of saying he had just received the honor of a visit from Senator Sumner.

An economical old bachelor on Greenwich avenue, New York, utilizes the sun by cooking his noontide chop with a burning glass.

Jacob Thompson, of Mississippi, Secretary of the Interior, is the only Cabinet officer of Buchanan now alive who aided secession..

An indulgent gentleman in Lawrence, Kansas, sold his cooking stove for $11 in order to take his thirteen children to the circus.

Last Thursday a man ran through Detroit shouting that he was "hunting the road to Heaven." It was generally believed he was off the track.

A man who twenty years ago commenced life without a dollar he could call bis own, was in our office yesterday to borrow the price of a drink.

The Siamese twins are at last "divided"—ono is for Greeley and the other for Grant.—The only instance on record that a house ever stood divided against itself.

Washington Mills died a lew days ago at Jersey City of fever created by inhaling tho perlume of flowers.— Which goes to show that one can be killed oven with sweets.

The editor of tho St. Joo Gazette has at last reached tho height of human happiness. He has a shirt that opens at the back and feels so good that he wants some one to kick him.

A ridiculons bet has recently been made in Salt Lake City, Utah, between two men on tho result of the. Presidential election. The loser agrees to wear a Chinese suit of clothes for ninety days,

A young man hunting turkeys at Kalamazoo, Mich., thought he saw one in the grass, but a Coroner's jury decided that it was the head of the farmer who owned the premises, and was taking a nap.

Frilz Vanvonderblinkenstoefenheimensstronseoorn is a citizen of Hamburg. For our part we would rathec have been born plain John Smith than to drag through life with a name that people are constantly liable to mistake for a mile and a half of well-rope.

A cruel man, Joseph Sharp, at Jacksonville, Illinois, started out with gnn and lantern (the latter carried by Mrs. Sharp) to shoot that cursed cat, the other night, and was about taking aim when his wife's eyes, sharper than his, cried: "Hold! Joe, as I live, it is a baby." And it was.

One of our merchants was troubled all day Monday with something in bis boot, and, on drawing off that article in the evening, discovered his wife's sunday bat in the toeof it. It nearly spoiled the hat but, being of a philosophic turn, he merely said: "D—n.a woman, anyhow." a

A Utica man has invented a trav eling trunk with this improvement: Taking hold of tho handle and lifting one end from tbe floor, a sharp pull draws out a hand bar similar to those by which a hand cart is drawn or propelled, and at the same time two strong ^heels drop beneath. The trunk is at once a box on wheels, and the traveler can draw It awsy independent of porters or expressmen.

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Feminitems.

Immense belt buckles are coming in fashion. Col. Tennie C. Clafllu is studying for the stage.

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High heels are going, and spines will go up agaiu. It is said the washerwomen are getting up a wring.

A lady's last glass before going to bed—The looking-glass. The Lisa Weber burlesque troupe has disappointed Boston.

There is nothingwomen despise more in a man than bashfulness. Queen Victoria has ordered seventy bairels of Michigan apples.

Horace Greeley is said to have a Missouri neice who is a Grant man. The kingdom of petticoatery is a phrase of the gallant Saturday Review.

A wild girl is the sensation in Nevada. Wild girls have ceased to bo a sensation in the Statos. 1 •,

Kate Hoflman, the belle of Newport, is said to require neither belladonna, black lead nor lily white. 'Ace-High" is the last sensational drama, and all young ladies know how effective a sigh sometimes is.

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A young lady won a barrel of flour at Hartford last week by rolling it a long distance on a wheelbarrow.

It is of no use any longer for ladles to wear expensive jewelry the imitation can not be told from the real article.

A Detroit maid is sweet sixteen and weighs but forty pounds.—We should judge this maid was but scaroe half made up.

The editress of a Western journal recently announced that the arrival of an extra male" prevented the prompt issue of her paper.

Some envious traducer declares that Anna Dickinson's "glorious energy and inflexible resolution" is nothing but pigheadness.

In playing croquet, the females of Louisville use billiard cdes. When the foot is planted on a ball, no ordinary mallet can reach it.

Some wag has christened the old dowagers and spinsters who bathe at the seaside in the most outre of costumes, "animated rag-bags."

An aged lady could not sit up with a sick neighbor tbe other night, bacause she could not bear any excitement, being naturally "historical."

A Chicdfeo bello dropped her chignon in the street tho other day, and in loss than two minutes a yellow dog had shaken it into mortar stiffening.

Her sister advertises In Now York for information concerning Mary Cornfield. If sho will come West about husking timo sbo can find many a merry cornfield.

A Mrs. McKey, who lived near Garnett, Kansas, was killed by lightning the other day while sitting in the midst of her family reading. No other member was injured.

Miss

Nettie Longfellow, a telegraph

operator of Newton, Iowa, is a candidate for County Recorder. Though no relation to the other Longfellow, it is thought she can tun well.

How should a lady, going buggy riding, dress herself?—[Damorest's Monthly. Either by putting 'em over the head or stopping into them, whichever will keep your sweetheart waiting the shortest time.—[Dr. Woods-

"I don't miss my church so much as you suppose," said aNew Haven lady to her minister, who had called upon her during her illness, "for I make Betsey sit at the window as soon as tbe bell begins to chime, and tell me who are going to church, and whether they have got cm anything new."

An old lady of Lowell, Mass., died at an almost centenarian age a few days ago. Before her death she give minute directions for her funeral. Among other things, she said she wanted to be "laid out" in her black silk gown, and they must not take out the back breadth, as they did when Sally Smith was laid out. For," said the old lady, deprecatingly but seriously, "what a finger Sally will cut at tbe resurrection without any back breadth in her gown!"

The expectation that Miss Nellie Grant Is to "come out" this season fills the hearts of the fashionable young ladies of Washington with unwonted hope. It was understood before she left on her European trip that this winter her appearance "in society" would be the key-note of many others budding in their latest

teens

to enter tho

arena of social fashion. Long years have passed since the White House could present such a boon to the metropolis ass maiden just entering upon the threshold of womanhood to ornament and boautify with rare modesty and queenly deportment tbe executive parlors of tb^natlon

Price Five Cents.

Connubialities.i

Midnight and June .• The yellow phantom of a moon Far out at aea, Dark branches arching overhead, The river flowing In the gloom. And heavy scents of leaf and bloom Making It just a joy to be! And in tbe dew. Beneath the branches bending too, Two faces bentBent In a swift and daring dream, An ecstacy of trembling bliss, And sealed together in a klssAnd the night waiting passion spent.

For this the day, •*. .y s, Swooned from its flery skies away For this the night 'r* Built up its stars and silences For this he royal summer came Wrapped In her robes of fragrant flame This moment pausing on Its flight.

Midnight and June A dreaming bird repeats his tune The sea replied— Perfume and hush and darkness still, But nothing as It was before, Subtly aud sweetly all made o'er With love's unsealing ol the eyes!

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Gold Bonds—Wedding rings. '•Let tho toast be, dear woman," as tho man said to his wife, when he wanted to eat it all himself.

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Madame Nilssen-Rouzand will continue to sing. Matrimony never yot shut a woman's mouth.

A Sayannah, Georgia, negro put agunload of buckshot into his wife, because she didn't want to "divorce."

It is a complaint against some young ministers that, while their bodies are in the pulpits, their hearts are in the pews.

They are putting on airs in TerrcHpute. Couples are "nuptiated," instead of married, there.—[St. Louis Globe.

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A man'in tills ctfy has such an in-' tense dread ot cholera morbus that be will not kiss a woman whose lips are not ripe.

He thought she was a paragon—she thought he was a paragon and now, being married, they find themselves a pair-o'goners.

In Ujjavani—if the accomplished' reader know where that is—marital infidelity is punished by cutting off the offender's nose. s- ''/i*,5**

Jacksonville, Illinois, widows countermand the order for tombstones and invest the amount in jewelry when they make the second engagement.

A wag, in what he knows about farm' ing, gives a plan to remoye widow's weeds he says a. good-looking man has only to say: "Wilt thou," and they wilt.

Rose Eytinge, Consul Butler's wile, is about to return to the stage. When Butler married her ho was too drunk to remember it afterward. Rose should havo boon sober enough not to havo married a drunkon man.

Women require more sloop, it is said, than men. Blifkins disputes this, as he says tho last sound I10 hears of nights is tho voice of Mrs. B. in lior nocturnal lecture, and tbe first in tho morning is her matutinal admonition.

It is a groat mistake to supposo that a woman with no heart will bo an easy creditor in the exchange of affection. There is not 011 earth a more mercilosM exactor of love from others than a thoroughly selfish woman and tho more unlovely sbo grows tho moro jealously and scrupulously she

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love to the uttermost farthing. The Salt Lako Journal says that when the jury in the case of Obey (on the trial for killing a gambler who had most foully libeled his wlfo) returned with a verdict not guilty, "Mrs. Obey with an intensity of feeling which a woman only knows, threw her arms around his neck and londly kissed him." She seems to recognize her obligations to lovo, honor and Obey.

A Newport correspondent gives thv following touching hit: "While standing on the extremity of the sido piazza, which was flooded with tho moonlight, I heard a slightly amusingbut no doubt important conversation, between a young couple. She was banging on his arm half lovingly, and they were both looking up at the queen ot night He said, tenderly bending down his head, "Do you lovo the moon?" Sho answered in a low voice, "Yes," Ho replied, with dep tenderness and feeling in his voic», "Would I were the moon." They passed on, while I momentarily exclaimed, "No cards."

A happy young bridal party went down from Peoria, on tbe P., P. fc J. Railroad, the other mornlug. Tho blushing young bride thrust her head out of the car window, as the train Ktartedoff, and, after looking around for a moment or two, suddenly jerked her bead back, with a quick exclamation, and buried her face itf her bands.. Her loving, frightened husband sought to learn the cause of her dismay, and offered feeble consolation. "What is it a in W ha if dear? Tell it's own hubby! What makes it cry There wasn't much to cry about, to be sure—oh, no Darling had only dropped a set of glittering teeth out of the car window—that was all. The sad affair has cast a gloom over the entire cemmunity.