Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 7, Number 43, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 21 April 1877 — Page 2

9

THE MAIL

A. PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, APRIL 21, 1877.

FRANKIE SINQINO.

BT MOLI.IE ELLS.

Jesus, lover of my soul," Bang my baby boy to-day, lis Ii Both

Kod

lttle dimpled hands, lit"

Busy with his childish play.

Let me to thy bosom fly," All unconsciously he subg. And 1 listened dreamily

To the music of his tongue.

Hide me, O my Savior, hide," While his sweet voice softly strayed O'er the tender, pleading words.

All my soul within me prayed.

Hide me, O my Savior, hide," In thy love compassionate, From the evils that betide.

From the trials that await.

Till the storm be overpastAll the storms of doubt and sin, Till the pearly gate at last

Open wide to take us in,"

Other refuge have I none," Ah! my-darl ng. says't thou so Kneeling low before his throne

He will Bhelter us 1 know.

Let me with my babv plead: All my cares to Thee 1 bring (Jover my defenseless head 'Neath the shadow of Thy wing."

THE

Circuit Rider.

A IX) YE STORY OP EARLY LIFE IN THE WEST.

BY EDWARD EGGLESTON.

AvXker of The Hoosier Schoolmaster," End of the World," Mystery of Metropolisville,'' etc.

CHAPTER I.

THE CORN-SHUCKING.

Bnbstraction is the hardest "cipherlog in the book. Fifty or sixty years off tkc date at the head of your lettter is easy enough to the "organ of number," but severe strain on the imflgination. It is bard to go back to the good old day* your grandmother talks about— that golden age when people were not roasted alive in a sleeping coach, but geattf tipped over a toppling cliff by a stage-driver.

Grand old times were those in which beys politely took off their hats to preacher or schoolmaster, solacing their freah young hearts afterwards by making months at the back of bis great coat. Bleasedi days! 1B which parsons wore stiff, white socks, and walked with starched dignity, and yet were not too

to drink peach brandy and cherry unce with 'folks when Congressmen were so honorable that they scorned bribes, and were only kept from killing one another by the exertions of the ser-geant-at-arms. It was in these old times of the beginning of the reign of Madison that the people of the Hissawachee settlement, in Southern Ohio, prepared to attend "the corn-shuckin' down at Cap'n Lumsden's."

There is a peculiar freshness about the entertainment that opens the gayetiesof the season. The shucking at Lumsden's had the advantage of being set off by a dim back-ground of other shucklngs. and quiltings, and wood-choppings, and apple-peelings that were to follow, to say nothiHg of the frolics pure and simple—parties alloyed with no utilitarian purposes.

Lumsden's corn lay ready for husking, in a whitey-brown ridge five or six feet high. The Captain was not insensible to considerations of economy. He knew quite well that it would be cheaper in the long run to have it husked by his own farm hands the expense of an entertainment in whiskey and other needful provisions, and the wasteful handling of the corn, not to mention the obligation to send a hand to other huskings, more than counter-balanced the gratuitous labor. But who can resist the public sentiment that requires a man to be a gentleman according to the standard of bis neighbors? Captain Lumsden had the reputation of doing many things which were oppressive, and unjust, but to have "shuoked" his own corn would have been to forfeit his respectability entirely. It would have placed bim on the Pariah level of the contemptible Connecticut Yankee who had bought a place farther up the creek, and who dared to husk his own corn, practloe certain forbidden economies, and even take pay for such trifles as butter, and eggs, ana the surplus veal of a calf which he had killed. The propriety of "ducking" this Yankee had been a matter of serious debate. A man "as tight as the bark on a beech tree," and a Yankee besides, was next door to a horse thief.

So there was acorn shucking at Cap'n Lumsden's. The "women folks" turned f-nf ivA oorasion into farther use by uilt on the frames, ana es of the party spend the afternoon in quilting and gosslpping— the younger women olushing inwardly, and sometimes outwardly, with hope and fear, as the names of certain young men were mentioned. Who oould tell what disclosures the evening frolic

miaht

producer For, though "circum­

stances alter cases," they have no power to change human nature and the natural history of the delightful creature whioh we call a young woman was eosentlallv the same in the Hissawachee Bottom, sixty odd years "go. that it is

on

Murray or Beacon Street Hill In these modern times. Difference enough of manner and oottume—linsey-woolsey, with a rare calico BOW and then for Sundays: the dropping of "kercheys" hy polite young

tnrls—but

uSiT iwmton, «o under the mod'""1

these things are

»only outward. The dainty girl that turns away from my story with diaguat, beoause "the people are so roygh, little suspects how entirely of the cuticle is her refinement—how, after all, there is a touch of nature that makes Polly Ann arid Sarv Jane oousinsgerman to Jennie, and* HatUe, and Blanche, and Ma-

It was just dark—the rising full moon was biasing like a bonfire among the trees on Campbell's Hill across thecreek —when the shucking party gathered rapidly around the Captain's ridgeof eorn. The first corners waited tor the Otben, «nd hmoi th. Urn.toktajc iUb.

hospitable warmth to each new but brought his voice up at

the

knew

lwtlike

a whip cracker, there wsa what Dr. Rush would call the of his enunciation, which person addressed that Captain Lumsden, though he

how to treat a man

SIS

with politeness, as became an old Virginia gentleman, was not a man whose supremacy was to be questioned for a moment. Es reached out his hand, with a "Howdy, Bill?" "Howdy, Jeems? how's your mother gittin', en? and "Hello, Bob, I thought you had the shakes—got ont at last, did yon?" Under this superficial familiarity a certain reserve of conscious superiority and flinty self-will never failed to make Itself appreciated.

Let us understand ourselves. When we speak of Captain Lum-den as an old Virginia gentleman, we speak from his own standpoint. In his native state his hereditary rank was low—his father was an "upstart," who, besides lacking any claims to "good blood," had made monev by doubtral means. But such the advantage of emigration that among outside barbarians the fact of having been born in "Ole Virginny" was credential enough. Was not the Old Do minion the mother of presidents, and gentlemen? And so Captain Lumsden was accustomed to tap his pantaloons with his rawhide riding whip, while he alluded to his relationships to "the old families," the Carys, the Archers, the L*es, the Peytons, and the far famed William and Evelyn Bird and be was especially fond of mentioning his relationship to that family whose aristocratic surname is spelled "Enroughty," while it is mysteriously and inexplicably pronounced "Darby," and to the "Tolivars," whose name is spelled "Taliaferro." Nothing smacks more of hereditary nobility than a divorce be twixt spelling and pronouncing. In all the Captain's strutting talk there was this shade of truth, that he was related to the old families through his wife. For Captain Lumsden would have scorned a prima facie lie. But, in his fertile mind, the truth was ever germinal—little acorns of fact grew to great oaks of fable.

How quickly a crowd gathers! While I have been introducing you to Lumsden, the Captain has been shaking hands in his way, giving a cordial grip, and then suddenly relaxing, and withdrawing his hand as if afraid of comproinisingdignity, and all the while calling out, "Ho, lorn! Howdy, Stevens? Hello Johnson! is that you? Did come after all, eh?"

So the ridge of corn was measured, and divided exactly in the middle. A fence rail, leaning against either side, marked the boundary between the territories of the two parties. The next thing to be done was to select the captains. Lumsden, as a prudent man, desiring an election to the legislature, de clined to appoint them, lr— chuckling kind of laugh, "Choose for yourselves, boys, choose for

***•&*? .-Y&i

4

When once the company was about complete, the next step was to divide the heap. To do this, judges were selected, to-wit: Mr. Butterfield, a slow speaking man, who was believed to know a great deal because he said little, and looked at things carefully and Jake Sniger, who also had a reputation for knowing a great deal, because he talked glibly, and was good at off hand guessing. Butterfield looked at the corn, first on one side, and then on the end of the heap. Then he shook his head in uncertainty, and walked round to the other end of the pile, squinted one eye, took sight along the top of the ridge, measuring its base, walked from one end to the other with long strides ss if paoingthe distance, and again took bearings with one eye shut, while the young lads stared at him with swe. Jake Sniger strode away from the corn and took a panoramic view of it, as one who scorned to examine anything minutely. He pointed to the left, and remarked to his admirers that be low'd they was a heap sight more eorn in £he left hand send of the pile, but it was the long, yaller gourd seed, and powerful easy to shuck, while t'other eend wuz the leetle, flint, hominy corn, and had a right smart sprinklln' of nubbins." He 'low'd whoever got aholt of them air nubbins would git sucked in. It was neck and neck twixt there 'ere and that air, and fer his own part, be thought the thing mout be nigh about even, and bad orter be divided in the middle of the pile. Strange to say, Butterfield, after all his sighting, and pacing, and measuring, arrived at the same difficult and complex conclusion, which remarkable coincidence served to confirm the'popu lar confidence in the infallibility of the two judges.

Laughing his ana saying,

yourselves." Bill McConkey was on the ground, and there was no better husker. He wanted to be captain on one side, but somebody in the crowd objected that there was no one present who could hold a taller dip to Bill's shuckin." "Wbar's Mort Goodwin?" detuanded Bill "he's the one they say kin lick me. I'd like to lay him out wunst.',' "He ain't yer." "That air's him a comln' through the cornstalks, I 'low," said Jake Sniger, as a tall, well-built young man came striding hurriedly through the stripped corn stalks, put two hands on the eight rail fence, and cleared it at a bound. "That's him that's his jump," said "little Kike," a nephew of Captain Lumsden. "Couldn't many fellers do that eight-rail fence so clean." "Hello, Mort!" they all cried at once he came up taking off his wide rimmed straw hat and wiping his forehead. "We thought you wuzn't a oomln\ Here, you and Conkey chyose up." »'Let somebody else," said Morton, who was shy, and ready to glye up such distinction to others. "Backs out!" said Conkey, sneering. "Not a bit of it." said Mort. "You don't appreciate kindness Where's your slick?"

By tossing a stick from one to the other, and then passing the hand of one above that of the other, it was soon decided that Bill McConkey should have the first choice of men, and Morton Goodwin the first choice of corn. The shuckers were thus all divided into two parts. Captain Lumsden, as host, declining to be upon either side. Goodwin choee the end of the corn which had, as the boys declared, "a desp'rate right of nubbins." Then, at a signal, all hands went to work.

The corn bad to be husked and thrown into a crib, a mere pen of fence rails. "Now, boys, crib your cern," said Captain Lumsden, as he started the whisky bottle on its enoouraging travels along the line of shuckers.

Hurrah, boys!" shouted McConkey.

off! Ttunder and blaaesl Hurrah!" Th«s loud hallooing may have cheered his own men, but it certainly stimulated those on the other ride. Morton was more prudent he husked with all hia might, and called down the lines in an undertone* "Let them hoUer, boys, never mind Bill allthebreath he spends in noise we'll spend in gUUn'theoorn peeled. Here, you! don't you shove that oorn back in the shucks! No cheats allowed on this side!"

Goodwin had taken his place In the of his own men. where he could overlook them and husk, without intermission, himself knowing that his own dexterity wss worth almost as much ss the work of two men. When one or

TERRB "R AUTE aAXURDAY EVENING MAIL.

two boys on bis side began to run over to see bow the others were getting along, he ordered them back with great firmness. "Let them alone// he said, "you are only losing time work bsrd at first, everybody will work hard at the last."

For nearly an hour the buskers had been stripping husks with unremitting eagerness the heap of unshucked eorn had grown smaller, the crib was nearly full of the white and yellow ears, and a great billow of light husks had arisen behind the eager woikers. "Why don't you drink?" asked Jake Sniger, who sat next to Morton. "Want's to keep his breath sweet for Patty Lumsden," ssid Ben North, with a chuckle.

Morton did not knock Ben over, and Ben

never

knew how near he came to

^It'wa/nowise fast heavy pull of the shuckers. McConkey had drunk rather freely, and bis "Pull away, sweats!" became louder than ever. Morton found it necessary to run up and down bis line once or twice, and hearten his men by telling them that they were "sure to beat if they only stuck to it well."

The two parties were pretty evenly matched the side led by Goodwin would have given it up once if it bad not been for his cheers the others were so near victory that they began to shout in ad vance, and that cheer, before they were through, lost them the battle—for Goodwin, calling to his men, fell to work in away that set them wild by contagion, and for the last minute they made almost superhuman exertious, sending a perfect hail of white corn into the crib, and licking up the last ear in time to rush with a shout into the territory of the other party, and seize on one or two dozen ears, all that were left, to show that Morton bad clearly gained the victory. Then there was a general wiping of foreheads, and a general expression of good feeling. But Bill McConkey vowed that he "knowed what the other side done with their corn," pointing to the husk pile. "I'll bet you sir bits," said Morton, "that I can find more corn in your shucks than you kin in mine." But Bill did not accept the wager.

to

After husking the corn that remained under the rails, the whole party adjourn ed to the house, washing their hands and faces in the woodshed as they passed into the old hybrid building, half log cabin, the other half blockhouse fortification.

The quilting frames were gone and a substantial supper was set in the apartment which was cbmmonly used for parlor and sitting room, and which was now pressed into service for a dining room. The ladies stood around against the wall with a self conscious air of modesty, debating, no doubt, the effect of their linsey-wool-sey dresses. For what is the use of carding and spinning, winding and weaving, cutting and sewing to get a new linsey dress, if you cannot have it admired?

CHAPTER II. THE FROLIC

The supper was soon dispatched the huskers eating with awkward embarrassment, as troutlermen always do in company,—even iu the company of each other. To eat with decency and composure is the fiual triumph of ciyili zation, and the shuckers *f Hissawachee B3ttom got through witu the disagreeable performance as hurriedly as possible, the more so that their exciting strife had given them vigorous relish for Mrs. Lumsden's "chicken fixln's," and batter cakes, and "punkin pies." The quilters had taken their supper an hour before, the table not affording room for both parties. When supper was over the "things" were quickly put away, the table folded up and removed to the kitchen—and the company were then ready to enjoy themselves. There was much gawky timidity on the part of the young men, and not a little shy dropping of the eyes on the part of the young women but the most courageous presently got some of the rude, country Dlavs b-going. The pawns were sold over the head of the blindfold Mort Goodwin, who. as the wit of the company, devised all manner of penalties for the owners. Susan Tomkins had to stand up in the corner, and say, "Here I stand all ragged and dirty,

Kiss me quick, or I'll run like a turkey." These lines were supposed to rhyme. When Aleck Tilley essayed to comply with her request, she tried to run like a turkey, but was stopped in time.

The good taste of people who enjoy society novels will decide at once that these boisterous, unrefined sports are not a promising beginning. It is easy enough to imagine heroism, generosity and courage in people who dance on velvet carpets but the great heroes, the world's demigods, grew in just such rough soc'al states as that of Ohio in the early part of this century. There is nothing more important for an over refined generation than to understand that it has not a monopoly of the great y, ana that it must somehave grown scarce as refinement has increased. So that I may not shrink from telling that one kissing play took the place of another until the excitement and merriment reached a pitch- which would be thought not consonant with propriety by the society that loves round dances with roues, and "the German" untranslated—though, for that matter, there are people old fashioned enough toRhink that refined devllty Is not much better than rude freedom, after aU.

Goodwin entered with the hearty animal spirits of his time of life into the boisterous sport but there was one drawback to his pleasure—Patty Lumsden would not play. He was glad,- indeed, that she did not be could not bear to see her kissed by his companions. But, then, did Patty like the part he was taking in the rustic revel? He Inly rejoiced that his position as the blindfold Justice, meeting out punishment to the owner of each forfeit, saved him, to some extent, the necessity of going through the ordeal of kissing. True, it was quite possible that the severest prescription he should make might fall on his own head, if the pawn baDnened to be his but he was saved by his good luck and the penetration which enabled him to gueqs, from the suppressed

chuckle

of the seller, when the offered

pawn was hi* own. At last, "forfeits" in every shape became too dull for the growing mirth of the company. They ranged themselves round the joom on benches and chairs, and began to ring the old song: .. WSS

Oats, peas, beans, and barley grow— Oats, peas, beans, and barley grow—f You nor I, but the farmers, know Where oats, peas, beans acd barley grow. Thus the farmer sows his rnedT, Thns be stand and take* bis ease. Stamps his foot, and claps his hand*. And whirls around and views his lands. as grass grows in the Held, on th?s carpet you most kneel, your troe love, ki*h«r sweet, rise again upon your feel.

Sure Down Salute your And It Is not very different from the little children's play—an old rustic sport, I

doubt not, that has existed in England from immemorial time. McConkey took the handkerchief first, and, while the company were staffing, ho pretended to be looking around and puszling himself to decide whom he would favor with his affection. But the girls nudged one another, and looked significantly at Jemima Huddlestone. Of course everybody know that Bill would take Jemima. That was foreordained. Everybody kuew it except Bill and Jemima! Bill fancied that be was standing in entiro undecision, and Jemima—radiant peony!—turned, her large, red cheeked face away from Bill, and studied meditatively a knot in a floor board. But her averted gsze only made her expectancy the more visible, and the significant titter of the company deepened the hue and widened the aiea of red in her cheeks. Attempts to seem unconscious generally result disastrously. But the tittering, and nudging, and looking toward Jemimat did not prevent the singing from moving on and now the singers have reached the line which prescrioes the kneeling. Bill shakes off his feigned indecision, and with a sua 1en effort recovers from his vacant and wandering stare, wheels about, spreads the "faandkercber" at the feet of the backwoods Hebe, and diffidently kneels upon the outer edge, while she, in compliance with the order of the play, and with reluctance only apparent, also drops upon her knees on the handkerchief, and, with downcast eyes, receives upon her red cheek a kiss so hearty and unreserved that it awakens laughter and applause. Bill now arises with the air of a man who has done his whole duty under difficult circumstances. Jemima lifts the handkerchief, and, while the song repeats itself, selects seme gentleman before whom she kneels, bestowing on him a kiss in the same fashion, leaving him the handkerchief to spread before some new divinity.

This alternation had gone on for some time. Poor, sanguine, homely Samantba Britton had looked smilingly and expectantly at each successive gentleman who bore the handkerohief out in vain. "8' man thy" could never understand why her seductive smiles were so unavailing. Presently, Betty Harsha was chosen by somebody—Betty had a pretty, round face, and pink cheeks, and was sure to be chosen, sooner or later. Everybody knew whom she would choose. Morton Goodwin was the desire of her heart. She dressed to win him she fixed her eyes on him in church she put herself adroitly in his way she compelled him to escort her home against his will and now that she held the handkerchief, everybody looked at Goodwin. Morton, for his part, was too young to be insensible to the charms of the little round, impulsive face, the twinkling eyes, the red, pouting lips and he was not averse to having the pretty girl, in her new, bright, linsey frock, single him out for her admiration. But just at this moment ha wished she might choose some one else. For Patty Lumsden, now that all her guests were Interested in the play, was relieved from her cares as hostess, and was watching the progress of the exciting amusement. She stood behind Jemima Huddlestqn. and never was there finer contrast than between the large, healthful, high-color-ed Jemima, atypical oountry belle, and the slight, intelligent, fair skinned Patty whose black hair and *yes made her complexion seom whiter, and whose resolute lips and proud carriage heightened the refinement of her face. Patty, as folks said, "favored" her mother, a woman of considerable pride and much refinement, who, by her unwillingness to accept the rude customs of the neighborhood, bad about as bad a reputation as one can have in a frontier community. She was regarded as excessively "stuck up." This stigma of aristocracy was very pleasing to the Captaiu. His family was part of himself, and he liked to believe thein better than anybody's else. .But he heartily wished that Patty would sacrifice her dignity, at .this juncture, to further his political aspirations.

Seeing the vision of Patty standing there in her bright new calico—an extraordinary bit of finery in those daysGoodwin wished that Betty would attack somebody else, for once. But Betty Harsha bore down on the perplexed Morton, and, in her eagerness, did not wait for the appropriate line to come—she did not give the farmer time to "stomp" his foot, and clap his bands, much less to whirl around and view his lands—but plumped down upon the handkerchief before Morton, who took his own time to kneel. But draw it out as he would, he presently found himself, after having been kissed by Betty, standing foolishly, handkerchief in hand while the verses intended for Betty were not yet finished. Betty's precipf-. tancy, and her inevitable gravitation toward Morton, had set all the players laughing, and thejaugh seemed to Goodwin to be partiv at himself. For, indeed, he was perplexed. To choose any other womau for his "true lovo" even iu plsy, with Patty standing by, was more than he could do to offer to kneel before her was more than he dared to do. He hesitated a moment ho feared to offend Patty he must select some one. Just at the Instant he caught sight of the esger face of S'manthv Britton stretched up to bim, as it bad been to the others, with an anxious smile. Morton saw away out. Patty could not be jealous of S'manthy. He spread the handkerchief before the delighted girl, and a moment later she held In her band the right to choose a partner.

The fop of the party was "Little Gabe," that is to say, Gabriel Powers, junior. His father was "Old Gabe," the most mUerly farmer of the neighborhood. But Little Gabe had run away in boyhood, and had been over the mountains made some money, nobody could tell how, and bad Invested his entire capital in "store clothes." He wore a mustache too, which, being an unheard of innovation in those primitive times, marked bim ss a man who had seen the world. Everybody laughed at him for a fop, and vet everybody aimired him. None of the girls had yet dared to select little Gabe. To bring their linsey near to ttore cloth—to venture to salute his divine moustache—who could be guilty of such profanity? But 8'mantby was morally certain that she would not soon again have a chance to select a "true love," and she determined to strike high. The players did not laugh when she spread her handkerchief at the feet of Little Gabe. They were appalled. But Gabe dropped on one knee, condescended to receive he*- salute, and lifted the handkerchief with a delicate flourish of the hand which wore a ring with a large jewel, avouched by Little Gabe to be a diamond—a jewel that was at least transparent.

Whom would Little Gabe choose? became at once a question of solemn import to every young woman of the com aany for even girls

rree

in linsey are not

from that liking for a fop, so often

seen in ladies better In her heart nearly every young woman wished that Gabe would choose herself. But Gabe was one of those men who, having done many things by the magic of effrontery, imagine that any tiling can be obtained by impudence, If only the immdeace be sufficiently transcendent, knew that Miss Lnmsden held her-

•it-Hs

self aloof from the kissing plave, and he knew equally that she looked favorably on Morton Goodwin: he had divined Morton's struggle, and he had already marked out his own line of action. He stood iaqulet repose while the first two stanzas were sung. As the third begun, he stepped quickly round the chair on which Jemima Huddleston sat, and stood before Patty Lumsden, while everybody held breath. Patty's cheeks did not grow red, but pale, she turned suddenly and called out toward the kitchen: "What do you want? I am coming, and then v.alked quietly out, as if unconscious of Little 0866*8 presence or purpose. But poor Little Gabe had already begun to kneel be had gone too fkr to recover himself he dropped upon one knee, and got up immediately, out not iu time to escape the general chorus of laughter and jeers. He sneered st the departing figure of Patty, and said, "I knew I oould make her run." But he could not conceal his discomfiture.

When, at last, the party broke up, Morton essayed to have a word with Patty. He found her standing in the deserted kitchen, and his heart beat quick with the thought that she might be waiting for bim. The ruddy glo* of the hickory coals in the wide fireplace made the logs of the kitchen walls bright, and gave a tint to Patty's white face. But just as Morton was about to speak, Captain Lumsden's quick, jerky tread sounded in the entry, and became in, laughing his aggravating metallio little laugh, and saying, "Morton, Where's your manners? There's nobody to go home with Betty Harsha." "Dog on Betty Harsha!" muttered Morton, but not loud enough for the Captain to hear. And he escorted Betty home.

CHAPTER III. a: OOIXO TO MEETING.

Every history has one

Had he worshipped her less, he might long since have proposed to her, and thus have ended his suspense but ne had an awful sense of Patty's nobility, and of his own unworthlness. Moreover, there was a Hon in the way. Morton trembled before the face of Captain Lumsden.

Lumsden was one of the earliest sew tiers, and was by far the largest laM owner in th© settlement. In tnftt d&y of long credit, he had managed to p.aoe himself in such a way that be oould make his power felt, directly or indirectly by nearly every man within twenty miles of him. The very judges on the bench were in debt to him. Oh those rare occasions when he had been opposed, Captain Lurtsden had struck so ruthlessly, and with such regardlessneu of mean's or consequences, that he bad become a terror to everybody. Two or three families had been compelled to leave the settlement by his vindictive persecutions, so that his name had come to carry a sort of royal authority. Morton Goodwin's father was but a small farmer on the hill, a man naturally unthrifty, who had lost the greater part of a considerable patrimony. How could Morton therefore, make uirect advances to so proud a girl as Patty, with the chances in favor of refusal by her, and the certainty of rejection by her father? Illusion is not the dreadfulest thing, but disillusion—Morton preferred to charish his hopeless hope, living in vain expectation of some improbable change that should place him at better advantage In his addresses to Patty.

At first, Lumsden had left bim in no uncertainty in regard to bis own disposition in the matter. He had frowned upon Goodwin's advances by treating him with that sort of repellant patronage which is so aggravating, because it affords one no good excuse for knocking down the author of the insult. But of late, having observed the growing force and independence of Mortons character, and hfs ascendancy over the men of bis own age, the Captain appreciated the necessity of attach ng such a person to himself, particularly for the election wblch was to take plsoe In the autumn. Not that he had any intention of suffering Patty to marry Morton. He only meant to play fast and while. Had he even intended to give bis approval to the marriage at last, he would have played fast and loose all the same, for the sake of making Patty and her lover feel his power as long as pessible. At present, he meant to hold out just enough of hope to bind the ardent vounn man to his interest. Morton, on his part, reasoned that if Lumsden's kindness should continue to increase in the future as it had la the three weeks past, it woufci become even cordial, after awhile. To young men in love, all good things are progressive.

On the Sunday morning following the shucking, Morion rose ear.y, and went to the stable. Did you ever have the happiness to see a quiet auttimn Sunday in the backwoods? Did you ever observe the stillness, the solitude, the softness of sunshine, the gentleness of wind, the chip-chip-chlurr-r-r of great flocks of blackbirds getting ready for migration, the lazy cawing of crows, softened by distanoe, the half-laughing bark of cunning squirrel, nibbling his prism shaped beech nut, and twinkling his jolly, child like eye at you the while, as if to say. "Don't you wish you might

'^Nbttbat Morton saw aught of these things. He never heard voices, or saw rights, out of the common, and that veiy October Sunday had bwn set apart for a horse race down at The Forks. The one piece of property which our young friend bad acquired during his minority was a thoroughbred filley, and he felt certain that she—being a horse of the first

families—would

WmSfSSi

be able to "lay

outM Anything thEt could be brought against her. He was very anxious about the race, and therefore roso early, and

f^»ysppvfi'

Wm

went out into the morning ligLtthat be might look at his mare, aud feel of her perfect legs, .to make sure that ahe was in good condition. ''All right, Dolly?" be said—"all right this morning, old lady? eh? You'll beat all tbe scrubs won't you?"

In this exhilarating state of anxiety and expectation, Morton came to breakfaat, only to have his breath taken away. His mother asked bim to ride to meeting with her, and It was almost as hard to deny her as it was to give up the race at "The Forks."

Rough associations had made young Goodwin a rough man. His was a nature buoyant, generous, and complaisant, very likely to take the color or his surroundings. The catalogue of his habits is sufficiently shocking to us who live in this better day of Sunday 6chool morality. He often swore in away that might have edified the army in Flanders. He spent his Sundays, in hunting, fishing, and riding horse raoes, except when he was needed to escort his mother to meeting. He bet on cards, and I am afraid he drank to Intoxication sometimes. Though he was too proud and manly to lie, and too pure to be unchaste, he was not a promising young man. The chances that he would make a

fairly

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Quality

in com­

mon with eternity. Begin wliere you will, there is always a beginning back of the beginning. And, for that matter, there is always a shaiowy ending beyond the ending. Only because we may not always begin, like Knickerbocker, at the foundation of the world, Is it that we get courage to break so me whore into the interlaced web of human histories— of loves and marriages, of births and deaths, of hdpes and fears, of successes and disappointments, of gettings and havings, and spendings and losings. Yet, break in where we may, there lsalways just a little behind the beginning, something that needs to be told.

I find It necessary that the reader should understand how from childhood Morton had rather worshipped than loved Patty Lumsden. When the long spelling class, at the close of school, counted oft its numbers, to enable each scholar to remember his relative standing, Patty was always "one," and Morton "two." On one memorable occasion, when the all but Infallible Patty misspelled a word, the all but infallible Morton, disliking to "turn her down," missed also, and went down with her. When she afterward regained her plaoe, he took pains to stand always "next to head." Bulwer calls first love a great "purifier of youth," and, despite his fondness for hunting, horse racing, gaming, and the other wild excitements that were prevalent among the young mon of that day, Morton was kept from worse vices by his devotion to Patty, and by a certain ingrained manliness.

successful trip through life

did

not preponderate over the chances that he would wreck himself by intemperance and gambling. But bis roughness was stri

angely veined by nobleness.

This rude, rollicking, swearing young fellow had a chivalrous loyalty to his mother, which held him always ready to devoto himself In any way to her servioe.

On her part, she was, indeed, a woman worthy of reverence. Her father had been one of those fine old Irish gentlemen, with grand manners, extravagant habits, generous impulses, brilliant wit, a ruddy nose, and final bankruptcy. His daughter, Jane Morton, bad married Job Goodwin, a returned soldier of the revolution—a man who was "a poor manager." He lost his patrimony, and, what is worse, lost heart. Upon his wife, therefore, had devolved heavy burdens. But her faoe was yet fresh, and her hair, even when anchored back to a great tuck comb, showed an errant, Irish tendency to curl. Morton's hung ia waves about his neck, and he cherished his curls, proud of the resemblance to his mother, whom he considered a.very queen, to be served right

SutTt was hard—when he had been training tbe filley from a colt—when he had looked forward for months to this race as a time of triumph—to have so severe a strain put upon his devotion to his mother. When she made tbe request he did not reply. He went to the Darn and stroked the Alley's legs—how perfect they were?—and gave vent to some very old and wicked oaths. He was just making up his mind to throw the saddle on Dolly and be off to the Forks, when his decision was ouriously turned by a word from his brother Henry, a lad of twelve, who had followed Morton to tbe stable, and now stood jn the door. [TO BB CONTINUED.J

•THK CIRCUIT RIDER will be found 0110 of the most inteiesting stories that has over appeared.in this P'PSC It is also Instructive. The author says "Whatever Is incredible In this story is true!" The tale he tells will seem strange to those who know little of social life in the West fifty yoars ago. These sharp contrasts of corn-shuckings and camp-meetings, of wild revels followed by wild revivals these contacts of highwayraam and preacher this melange of picturesque simplicity, grotesque humor, and savage ferocity, of abandoned wickedness and austere piety, can hardly seem real to those who know the country now. And yet the scenes depicted in this story will be remembered by many of the early pioneers now living In our midst.

In this pictureof early life neltner the Indian nor the hunter Is the center-piece, but the Circuit Rider, the early pioneer of Met'*. odlsm. And yet it is not a "religious novel," one in which all the bad people are as bad as they can be, and the good people are a little better than they can be. Perhaps it may be a damaging recommendation to some good people to say ia the start that, frem first to last, it is a love story. But this is not the author's fault. It is Clod who made love so universal that no picture of human life Can be complote where love is left OUt.

LET THEM ALONE.

Never try to rob any one of his good opinion of himself. It is the most cruel thing you can do.

Moreover, it is by no means doing what you would be done by. Crush a woman's self-esteem and you make her cross-grained and snappish.

Do the same to a man and you only make hl morose. You may mean to create a sweet, humble creature, but you'll never do It.

The people who think best of themselves are apt to bo best. Women grow pretty iu believing they are so, and fine qualities often crop out after one has been told one has them.

It only gratifies a momentary spite to force your own unfavorable opinion of him deep into another's mind. It never,

never, never did any good. Ah! if this world, full of ugly people and awkward people, of silly people and vain people, knew their own deficiencies, what a sitting in sackcloth and ashes we should have

Tbe greatest of all things that a man can possess is a satisfactory identity. If that which he calls I pleases him, it is well with him otherwise, he is utterly 1 miserable. ,,

Let your fellow-beings alono bold no truthful mirrors beforo their eyes, unless with a pure intention to uproot sin. So may a mirror without a flaw never be prepared for you.

In those things which we cannot help, may we ever be blind to our own shortcomings. We are neither ugly, nor awkward, nor uninteresting to ourselves IJ if we do not know it.

An idiot may have the wisdom 0. Solomon in bis own conceit. Let him be, and the path to the grave will be easier for bim to tread you will be no worse, but much better.

Leavs every man as much self esteem as his conscience will allow him to cherish. It may be a pleasure to enlighten people as to their faults of mind and ffrson but it is certainly not a duty.

"Ob, heavens! save my wif shouted a man whose wife had fallen overboard in the Hudson river, recently. They succeeded in rescuing her. And her busbsnd tenderly embraced her, saying: "My dear, if you'd been drowned what should I have done? I ain ever going to let you carry the pocket bcok again.!!

An drfgan was some time ago introduced in a parish church in theNorthof Scotland, and some of the members took offense and left. One of these soon afterward met another member and inquired "how the organ was gettin' on. un, fine, "was the answer "jlst blawin awa the chaff an'keepin'tbe corn.

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