Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 2, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 July 1883 — Page 3

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THE MAIL

A

PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

j.

To the Dude.

When'er 1 take my walks abroad How ROAM' Dude# I MO. And when I turn and look at them

Tbcycannot took at me. g||

Their collar* tiarbt curtail tbelr aigkt. Their heads they cannot turn Why walk they thus with solemn air?

Their mission I would learn,

7%e days of finance taint* are not yet passed 8t Simeon Styiites was not the last Of those truod souls who felt they fulfilled best

Their mission and their masters last behest,

By fietf-lrifticted tortures and a life Made gloomy by a stern, unyielding strife 'Gainst merriment and outward signs of joy,

Lest sagfat but their own tnisskMi should tbeir thoughts employ.

K'en so the Dude is now oar modern saint. With-saddened eyes yet without complaint, He dafiy walks our street with looks intent,

His soul and being on his minion bent

Thatmission which is ever fresh and green While social life retains its lustre and its sheen. To show how in a land where arts do grow

That absolutely nothing man can know.

Oh, luckless Dude, we pity and we mourn Your hopeless state, your misery forlorn «o, hie you to some tailor's shop and try

To, as a clothes-horse, view the passers-by.

A CHARITY SCHOLAR.

"I'm going to school," said little Bessie Gale, "to-morrow morning." Bessie stood on the doorstep, her yellow curls blowing about, her freckled face all red with excitement, and her mouth stretched in the broadest of Hmilos. ••AreyowP" said Theodora Barclay. Theodora was dressed very prettily in a white embroidered frock with a dark-blue sash and dark-blue stockings. Iler boots wore new and shining, h« hat was of the very finest Leghorn, and altogether she felt herself to be very stylish indeed. "To Miss Milton," added Bessie. "Mother is to wash for Miss Milton, and that will pay for my schooling. Won't it be nice?"

At this, Theodora turned up her little nose. "Upon my word," said she, "washerwomen's children are looking up in the world!"

Bessie did not understand this, so she only smiled the more gleefully, andre-jM-ated, a second time, "Won't it be uiiu!? The public school is so faraway, ami Cora says thnt tho children there ure so rough, so that mother didn't like the idea of me going there, and "IM my Swiss muslin dress ironedP" rudely interrupted Theodora. said Bessie, "it's all ready, in |/basket, and I'm going to take it home 'his evening." "But I wjwit it now," said Theodora. "I am fading to wear it to tea at Mrs.

well," said Bessie. "Then I

*vill earr^ it-over at onee!" Ami she ran cheerfully for the basket. Bessie (iale'a mother wan a hard-work-ing little woman who had seen better days, and who was anxious to educate her children so that life should not be such a drudgery to them as it had always been to bur.

And Mrs. Barclay, Theodora's mother, who was a delicate woman ami could fnly go out occasionally in a carriage, used to sit by her window and watch the washerwoman's little children swarming arross the road, and Mrs. (Jale herself, ith quick steps, cherry cheeks, and skirts pinned well up around her. hanging clothes on the line, and would say to herself, with a sigh, "Mrs. (iale is a lucky woman!"

Miss Milton^s little Hock of scholars was assembled in the school-room the next morning at nine o'clock.

There had been a heavy thundershower in tlve night, and the srrass and bushes were too wet for the little girls to play, as uui:vl, around the door, while /Very tinn? the wind blew a miniature shower descended from the houghs of the old elm. where the wooden seats were plneett

Bessie Gala had arrived bright and early, with her curls tied back with blue ribbon, her face shining with plenty of soap and water, and a stiilly-starch-ed calico divss rustling at cveiy morement that she made.

She had come smiling Into tho schoolroom. prepared for a cordial reception from the other scholars, most of whoiv she knew previously but, to her dismay and surprise, they all turned coldh lroiw her, answered her remarks witr brief, blunt replies, and assembled in little knots by themselves in variom arts of the room, leaving her all alone. "Girls," said Bessie, alter a few minutes of trouble and bewildered silence, ••what is the matter?"

The girls laughed and whispered a lit tie among themselves, but made no answer. "Is there aovthing wrong with my dress?" persisted Bessie, looking down at the poor little stiff calico dress ol which she had been so proud. "I know it isn't quite new but it Is my clean, and neatly mended."

Just then Miss Milton came In. so that further discussion was checked. Bui little Alice Hodges stole up to Bessie as they were taking their seats, and whispered. as she laid her cheek against Be®' •ale's shoulder: "I know why th© girls won't play with you. It's because Theo Barclay told 'em yon were a charity scholar! What is a charity scholar, Bessie? Is it wron* to be charity And what make? yon oo it?" "Alice, go to your seat!" Miss Milton's clear distinct voice here interposed, and Bessie sat there, quite still, with the big tears gathering in her ey«s and an uncomfortable feeling all over her. And so downcast and dejected wm she that Miss Milton herself oWwd it, and called her to the desk at recess time. "Bessie," said she, "what is the matter?" "Nothing, ma'am," the child answer ed. "Why are yon not playing with the other little girls?"qu«rtloncd u»e teacher. ••They don't want me, ma'am, I think," said Bessie, still in the same suppressed voice. "Theodora Bare' *j has told them that I was a—a charity scholar!" "That is all absurd?" Milton

sharply. "Your tuition ts paid for as much as that of any of the other children. If Theo Barclay has said so, the is talking nonsense.".

And Miss Milton resolved thaflt 8 the children did not alter their line of conduct she would have a serious talk with them. 1 *2

Theo Barclay went home taker mothei that evening full of the story of Bessie Gale. "A charity child, mamma," said she, leaningon the arm of her mother's chair. "Her mother pays for her schooling with washing! How can she expect the rest of us girts to play with her, 1 wonder?"

Mrs. Barclay looked sadly down at the child's excited face. "If that is what you call being charity child," said she, "and mind don't say that your logic is correct—1 know of another one ia Miss Milton1school!" "Who is it, mamma!" cried Theo eagerly. "And why didn't you tell me of it before? Is it Augusta Moor? I'm almost sure that it is Augusta. Or else it is Pheb Gregory!" ~It's a little girl,"" quietly went on Mrs. Barclay, "whose father has been unfortunate in business, and was goin to take her out of school because he fe that he could not afford the expense of her tuition. But Miss Milton was verykind, as she always is, and so she has offered to keep her on for nothing until the child's father gets into business again, and they are able to pay. So you see that this litfie girl is even more of a 'charity scholar,' as you call it, than Bessie, whose schooling is paid for, every week.by her mothers honest toil. "Mamma, -cried Theodora, "who it? lo tell me who it is?" "I had not intended to divulge the secret, mv child," said Mrs. Barclay "but

,s

"I'll never, never tell," interrupted Theo. "I'll promise not to tell, if ywn'U only whisper to me what tho little girl'* name is." "it is Theodora Barclay," said iier mother with a sad smile. "And remember, my dear, that 1 should never have told you his, had it not been fo the foolish contempt which you hav shown towards little Bessie Gale."

Theo had hidden her face h» her mother's shoulder, and was silent for a minute or two. "Oh, mamma," she said at last, in a choked voice, "how foolish I have been! Oh. how I wish I hadn't said a word. Oh, mamma, what shall I do nowP" "What do you think it would be most right and honorable to do?" Mrs. Bar clay asked her with a sad smile. "I kn6w," said Theodora, after a momentary struggle with herself. "I will po and tell all tho girls that I am a chanty scholar too."

Her mother gave her a tender kiss, "My little girl is right," said she. The very next day Theodora went bravely to school and told the little girls all that sho had learned from her mother.

She went up to Bessie and kissed her, and asked her forgiveness, while the other children all cried out with one voice: "We don't know anything, or care anything about charity children, but we all think that you are the nicest girl in the school, and Bessie Gale is the next nicest"

So the little storm blew over that had threatened to darken the school horizon, and the girls wero all happy together once more in Miss Milton's small world.

The Late Bishop Peck a Victim of a College Boys' Prank. The recent mortal exit of the late Rev. Bishop Peek recalls an incident that mado national mirth at his expense over thirty years ago a clever trick of tho undergraduate boys of Diekiuson College, perpetrated soon after his accession to tho Presidency of that institution. The now distinguished Monoure D. Conway, then a Methodist preacher in prospect, has tho traditional credit of being one of the devisers of the scheme. In tho Spring of 1849 the Baltimore Methodist Conference held its annual session in Staunton, Va., the seat of one of the throe State lunatic asylums.— While President Peck was on his way to the conference, the young rascals in the college wrote a letter to the Superintendent of the Staunton Asylum stating that a lunatic had escaped from confinement in Pennsylvania, a very large man, very bald-headed, with great, round, staring blue eyes, whose special form of mania was that he was a Methodist preacher and President of Dickinson College. It was thought that he had gone to Staunton to attend the conference to which he fancied he belonged. He answered to the name and title of "I)r. Peck." The friends of this unfortunate gentleman would be exceedingly obliged to the Staunton Superintendent if he would watch the cars, and, if the individual described made his appearance, quietly take charge of him and keep him under asylum restraint till some friend could gel to him. All charges for his detention would be promptly met. The Superintendent was on hand at the time indioated( singled out his man readily, and courteously addressed him: "Dr. Peck, I believe?'1 "Yes, sir." "President of Dickinson College?" "Yes, sir." "I hare a carriage In waiting for you."— "Yon are very kind," said the unsuspecting stranger, as he took his seat in the vehicle, and was forthwith whirled off to the lunatic limbo, where he would have been incarcerated as a dangerous maniac, if the preachers of the conference had not interfered and assured the incredulous keeper of the Old Dominion cranks that the Fabtaffian doctor was as sane as the average of humanity and only the victim of a ridiculous hoax.— Troy Tims*.

Another mountain summit is to be conquered by steam the coming Summer, provided Secretary Teller permits the constructkm of a cable tramwa Pike's Peak—a Government The line will start from Manitou. and it is supposed that the summit, 14.900 feet away, can thus be reached in three hours. A stock company has been formed to carry out the project with a capital of fcftffltOOQt of which one-half ha* been subscribed, aad itb said that work will begin as soon as permission is received^

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TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

8ome Mistakes in the Proof, "I think you are just too mean for anything!" exclaimed a bewitching damsel, as she boiled into the managing editor's office, sank into a chair ana burst into sobs. ••Oh, look here! Don't!" remonstrated the managing editor, s: ^oing the corkneck and i, is intJ I

screw down the b&ck the still lighted pipe intJ I coat pocket "I published your poem, you know! Promised I would and I can show it to you. Don't make a row!" And the managing editor wrapped a beer bottle in a page of manuscript and ordered the office boy to take it to the foreman, with instructions to carry it as a leader under penalty of the law. "It was the prettiest thing we ever had in the Eagle., and I set it np in type myself so there wouldn't be any mistakes. Let up oc the weep now, that's a good girl." "I— I know you pub—published it!" moaned the fair visitor. "But what did it look like when itefcame out? When did I ever say "•We'll meet in the valley With poker and tongs 1' "I wrote it: 'We'll meet in the valley with jokes and songs!' "And you made me say: 'Here's to the madman that hove me swill!' "And if you had any sense, you'd have known that it was: 'Here's to the maiden that loves me still!'"

And here she went into a fresh set of convulsions. But that's all right!" pleaded the managing editor, wishing he'd left out that whopper about setting up the matter himself. "The new idea about the alley was an improvement on yours, because it brought it under the head of this new realistic school of poetry, and I tell you," added the managing editor, solemnly, that poem, just as it appeared in our paper with your name attached to it has attracted more attention and been more extensively copied than any other production that has appeared in this country for twenty years! "Do you mean to tell me that as a fact?" demanded the fair poetess, straightening up with a jerk. "Is that really so?" "If it hadn't bedn that we run short of Eagles and had to let people have our exchanges so they coufd scrap that poem, I could show you the gem in over two thousand first class journals," replied the managing editor, smiling cheerfully, and rubbing his hands. "Didn't any of them seem to notice thatawful blunder, where it said: 'Pine pigs illume the monkey shine?" "when I wrote it: 'Pine sprigs perfume the mountain side!' "Didn't they seem to think that was a—a little far fetched?" "I think more people bought papers on that one line than any other," protested the managingeditor. "One critic came out boldly and congratulated the universe on the development of a poetess who had the nerve to do what you had done. Any one can string rhymes together, can talk about sprigs, but where's the artist who had the audacity to put tho domestic animals into fiery verse and make poetry for the first time in all histbry the medium for the simple experience of all the worl to the mind or even the humblest reader? That's the way people are talking about that poem, that you, in your modesty, pretend you saw no beauty in! If you could hear that poem talked about as I have, I think you'd want to die!" and the managing editor assumed a virtuous expression and then looked hurt

Of course, no genius is as good a of their works as the intelligent readers of papers. I understand that" and the new poetess simpered and looked downcast "But how did they appear to take the line: 'The qualinv winds like cow's milk flow!' "Really I ve forgotten whether I wrote it in that way, or whether I put it: "'The balmy winds like cbm silk blow!' "Do you remember how that wasP" "We minted it just as you wrote," returned the managing editor, severely. "I am surprised that you should charge this olUee with the grandest poetical effort of modern times. That is over modest nnd I'd rather you would be frank and truthful with me." "Pardon me," besought tho fair one. resting her hand on his arm. "I was wrong. Forgive me, and to make amends, I will let you have four more poems that 1 had" intended for other apers!"

The managing editor blanched, but his nerves came to his rescue. "I think the effect of the first will not wear off until Fall," said he. "We can let these stand over until then or even until Winter. There's no use of blasting a reputation by exciting the ennnty of the critics and the envy of the old hands at the poetry business." "Of course yon know best" replied the disappointed beauty. "I am willing to leave the whole matter with yon, for I am sure you will watch my interests better than I conld, but don't you think you could get them out before the cold weather?"

Utterly out of the question," responded the managing editor, assuming prodigious independence. "In fact 1 think they would do better to wait perhaps two or three years. That other one will last at least that length of time. No, I must decline to touch them under three years," and the managing editor turned to his work and relighted his pipe, as though he had not seen a visitor that day.

Pretty well done," smiled the city city editor, strolling in as the lady took her departure. "When she first came I thought vou were done for." "Oh, no," replied the managing editor, carelessly. "You have only to know how to handle these people."

But the poem she was talking about wasn't hers at all," continued the city editor. "It was written by one of the reportex* as a bit of fun." Her poem is out in my desk now."

Sill itP* roared the managing editor, on the city editor. ••Kill the thing,' aad by the way, I saw that two of the New York papers beat you on an Hem of Brooklyn news this

The next time that happens

you will be hunting around for some one to start a paper lor you!" aad as the crestfallen city editor turned away the editor commenced an article on "The Press as a Moral Guide aad sa Educator of the Masses."—

Folly Shots.

"Meet me on the Bridge, Love, a Half-Pait Nine" is the title of a new song by a Brooklyn girl whose parent retire early. "Did you hear any of Wagner's operas?" isked a Boston critic of a Cincinnati lady who had recently returned from a tour of £urope. "I heard them all," she replied rather languidly. "I suppose the first time you went you were quite overcome by the grand concatenation of sounds." "Oh, I didn't mind it" was the response. "I've been married twenty years, and my husband is a fearful snorer."* "Pork dealer." No we don't believe Prince Bismarck would make any exception in favor of American petrified hams. They would, of course, be free from trichina, but you couldn't make a purely German metaphysical mind like his see it

First Tramp—Bill, have you ever read the new book called "Poverty and Pro-

Second Tramp—No but I've heard it's a good thing, and I hope the author'llget wealthy out of it

First Tramp—Why? Second Tramp—Because then he'll give you and me enough to live on without working,

A Wisconsin farmer who heard that a cyclone was approaching thoughtfully concealed his wife behind a woodpile, where she was easily pulverized by the falling logs. There are many ways in which a man can avoid the trouble and expense of a divorce suit if he will only set himself to thinking them up.

The man who found the overcoat that Governor Cleveland lost on the day of the bridge opening and returned it to its owner, says: "It was a thick coat too heavy to carry upon my arm conveniently, so 1 put it on and wore it. I didn't mind the neat although it very soon grew uncomfortably warm but when two or three New York aldermen greeted me with a 'How air ye, Guv'ner wild ye moind takin' a dhrink wid us?' I felt as if I wanted to crawl into some coal hole and stay there until nightfall."

A writer for one of the weekly contemporaries says that "Herbert Spencer miglit be described as a thifx dilution of Emerson." People who had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Emerson, especially during the last days of his life, will be pained to learn from this description that Mr. Spencer has reached a degree of attenualiou which would make Sarah Bernhardt look fat beside him. .,

One of the most prosperous grocers in a neighboring village is a church deacon, A member of the congregation who was asked if the deacon was much of a praying man, said: "Yes, he prays a good deal, but sometimes he prays harder than he does at others, ana during his periods of maximum devotion I always find that the articles I purchase at his store are short weight"

Tne instance is valuable as showing the value of a sensitive conscience in the grocery business.

Metropolitan Life.

Mrs. Blatherskite lives on Fifth avenue. Last week Mr. Erudite, a Harvard student, paid her a visit She told him to stay a month. He consented. She telegraphed to Vassar College for her daughter Grace to come down immediately. Miss Grace came." Mrs. B. wanted Mr. Erudite to become her son-in-law. Mr. Erudite was. bashful, but thought he could. Mrs, B., knowing tho worth of evidence should he ever back out and a breach of promise ensue, told the maid to keep a sharp eye on Mr. Erudite and Grace. The maid did., ii.

Billing and cooing noted by maid. Mrs. B. to maid: "What does Mr. Erudite say to Miss Grace when they meet in the morning?"

Maid to Mrs. B.: "He says, ma'am, •have more tea.' I think the pooryoun^ gentleman isn't right in his head, ma am. He says 'have more tea' so often to Miss Grace. Here's a card, ma'am, that he put under her door yesterday morning, but he spells so odd. He has no a inliis tea." "Give me that card. Dear me, what does it mean? 'Amo te, amo te.' Surely, that's Greek. Happy thought. I'll ask Prof. Buchsmeller what it \peans when he comes to give Grace her Latin lesson. m.

Mr. Buchsmeller is a graduate of Heidelberg. Is dead in love with Mrs. Blatherskite. Never told her so. Nevei told her husband so. rv

Mr. Buchsmeller rings. Mrs. B.Jtake* him into the back parlor and hands him the card with amo te on it.

l"

i*. v.

Mr. Buchsmeller throws his arms around the neck of Mrs. Blatherskite and gives ber 992 kisses. He exclaims. "My cup of happiness is filled. My love, my darling, let us leave this very day—fly on the wings of love and leaye your pig and husband

VI.

Mr. Blatherskite comes home early. Meets Mr. Erudite to the dining-room. Both walk up to the parlor. Both witness the tableau. Mrs. Blatherskite faints. w®

VII.

The gentleman from Heidelberg jumps rougn the window minus hat sans spectacles*

I

Mrs Blatherskite is served with a summons and complaint in divorce proceedings.

IX.

Mr. Erudite goes back to Harvard a bachelor. Jmo te,

Anglict, I love thee.

—New York World.

A Barton man who h»" made fortone baying Mid renting boose* says b« does not awn boose thai does not net him a profit of 10 per cent. I

TBADK MARK.

^•jp-

We prHBst no pretended miracle.— Troth Is mighty and mast prevail."—No sophistry can withstand -the power or it* honest utterance.

Editor of Eveni»g Pro*: DEAR SIB,—Feeling deeply grateful for the great benefits which I have receive*! from the use of A very valuable article which has its origin and home in our bsantiful city, ami hoping that others wl»o are afllieted as 1 have beau may fiuU like relief from its use, 1 lx*g th indulgence of a few lines In your vnlua&e piper for the privilege of communicating you a brief statement of facts, for the beneS* of the multitude of sufferers to be met on every side. Many of n»y friends well know th.it 1 have been very severely afflicted villi h"art disease for a number of years, u.. have suffered from it as oaly tho«e rr.: snff-jr who have that disease it rctlucel Uiy strength so low that I could scarcely across my room, and the le-ust ex-.Tt:... remlertNl me so short-brenthed t!:at 1 u.w scarrvlv move, and life seemed vi-r b-.::vcu-so»n •, I v.Nis treated for my nuljtdy by t!i» best ji.ij'siuiiuis, and derired no bcacfli tiieir treatment or prescriptions n:itil I v. advised by my family physician to use Remedy, as my trouble was caused by inue tion of my kidneys, which affected very scf"ously the action of my heart. 1 comw-jiKsc takinz it (having littlu faith ia it or any otiic medicine), and it has helpeJiuo \vout!cirulland 1 am now a great deal better, and hav been ever sinee I began its U«M\ in have taken no inediciue that hrvs benHl' me so greatly. My breathing is easy, as have gained in strength so much that I lit able to do my housework. 1 cheerfully recommend Hunt's Remedy to all who may !»t? afflicted as I have been, or who arc suffering from general debility and nervous prostration. Respectfully,

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