Semi-weekly Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 November 1897 — Page 3

YALORATSHADYRILL

A BRUSH BETWEEN RAILROAD MEN AND BUSHWHACKERS.

Inlsneo Who Saved the Ladle* of a Good Old Southern Fkmlly From Band 1 Marauders—Comedy Contributed by a Negro Servant and a Fireman.

P^All day the train had been waiting at Phady Bill for orders. Once in awhile the engineer wpuld a^k the, brakeman to cut fcim'ttpj, arid, he would ,race up and down thQ ,track, in oydesr to- "pump her," for there ware no injectors on the locomotives 171.1862, AH day the conductor sat in the caboOce, where an operator was working, expecting orders to back away, for the

Johnnies wore getting the better of the Yanks. Once, when the engineer went down the track in to the pine forest, he saw a band of bushwhackers riding leisurely through the wood in the direction of Shady Hill. These were not men of the north nor yet of the south. They were marauders, murderers, masquerading as soldiers arid equally dangerous to each army. Tho engineer told the conductor what he had seen, and, taking a.cpuple of muskets and one of the brakemen, the captain put himself into the wocd tank and set out to hunt the bandits. It was an odd way to go to work, but the conductor considered it better than remaining at the run to be plundered, if not murdered by the band. The bushmen must have heard them coming, for they were sitting on thoir horses, still as statues, when the old wood burner came creeping round a curve, her links arid chains rattling like a dray on cobblestones. "Halt!" cried the leader,.and thq engineer hooked her over. "What do you want?" demanded tho conductor. "What have you got?" asked the bushman.

The negro fireman mast have seen the humor of the mail's reply, for ho poked his head round the corner of the cab and laughed a laugh that warned tr. come from the very bottom of his bare fees. It filled the forest and rippled away down tho wood like the song of a reaper reaping in a valley near the hills. "Fo' do Lawd, dat am funny," said the negro, wiping his eyes. "Nothing that you can have,- said the conductor back at the bushman.

Immediately the negro opened his mouth and began to tipple again, but this tame the flow of his mirth was broken by the 60und of muskets. Bang, bang! went tho guns of tho marauders, and the negro, changing his laugh to a cry of pain, fell upon the deck and begged the brakeman to shoot him. "I'ze dono killed. Fo' de Lawd, I'ze shot plumb frew de ha't." "Then die, you crazy nigger," shouted the brakeman. "Think I'm going to waste a load on you?"

When the conductor and the brakeman had emptied their guns at the gang, the engineer opened the throttle and backed away with the bullets rattling on his front end and smashing the glass in the cab windows.

Upon arriving at Shady Rill they found that only the tip of one of the negro's fingers had been shot away, and when the engineer had bathed tho finger in black oil, bound it up with a rag and kicked the negro three or four times tho fellow was able to take his place at the furnace door.

The conductor instructed the operator to report what had taken place to tho army officer in charge of the railway, and then went over to the Shady Rill plantation to warn the women there of the coming of the bushwhackers. He bad been over once or twice for supplies, which were given, if not grudgingly, reluctantly, for how were these poor women, whose fathers and husbands and brothers were doWn there where tho steady, monotonous booming of cannon spoke of danger and death, to smile upon the people of the north? These men were come into the country, the women were able to persuade themselves, to take the property of the people and lay the country waste. So now, when the conductor lifted his hat in the presence of the venerable dame and her proud daughter, tho women drew themselves up and looked down upon him from the veranda. "If they ah no'the'n soldiers, I reckon they can't more'n kill us, an if they ah southe'n soldiers they ah southe'n gentlemen. So we might bettah take ouah chances with them than with you all, who ah not soldiers at all." "Neither arc these soldiers. They are bnehwhackers and murderers. Come, I beg of you, let me help you to escape."

At that moment tha sound of musketry was lieard from down behind the orchard, and a moment later an old white haired wench came falling round the house, rolled up the veranda steps and threw harself at tho feet of her young mistress. "Fo' de Lawd, honey," she howled, "do wood fni'ly full o' Yankees. I fought dey dun beon our folks, case dey dun hab on blue clo's, but minit dat fool Jim poke his head ojseh de fcnce an shout, 'Git out dls yeah o'chad,' dey all bang loose at him, an, fo' do Lawd, dey dun tak' ho heart out an eat it right fo' my ole eyes."

A negro can always be depended upon to supply tho details in an exciting narrative and to fill in with bits of pathos, but the women, making duo allowance for the exaggerations of a frightened negro, had no doubt that they were now in great danger. "Shall we have time to dress, sub?" asked tho lady with a hauteur that under the circumstances was pathetic. "No. Fly for your lives," said the conductor, for oven as he spoke he saw a oouple of men riding under tho apple trees.

The women saw them, too, and throwing on whatever lay in reach in the way of wraps hurried over to the train. The old r.egress, still telling her story, went with tho two women and helped them into the caboose. Now the two robbers who had ridden through the orchard saw the trainmen and immediately opened fire. Tho conductor and the brakeman, walking backward, kept the desperadoes back, killing one of their horses. Just as the trainmen reached the caboose the conductor was shot and fell near the rail. The rest of the band'hadcome to the rescue of their comrades, and now the lead was raining upon the side of the car. The brakeman, having dropped his gun, stooped to lift the conductor aboard, but he could not do it Now this delicate young daughter of the south, seeing tho danger in which these men, her enemies, had voluntarily placed themselves for her sake and her mother's, leaped to the ground and with her whit® hands that had never lifted anything heavier than a riding whip helped, the brakeman to lift the limp form of the conduo for into tho car while tho bullets rained around her. Wheu they had laid him upon the locker, tho young woman lifted his head and held it in her lap, and so, as the engine backed away, the conductor died. —Now York Sun.

FARMER AND MEGAPHONE.

Roir a Pilot on a Boat Stopped a Horse In a Corstteid. 1 1 was on the upper Ohio once when the river was low, and was much amused over the use to which a pilot put a megaphone, 13e bought the thing to call ashore any message thr.t might have been given the) boat fo carry. 'Ibis was to save time, tor those Httie boats in tfttK local trades area pmU deal like the old fashioned mail carriers—anything to nevounuod&te the props along the hank. "W« vrciv in (he pilot houst* and the boat: was running up a shoot near the

4

Wast Virginia s:de of the river. In a cornlt»id was an olu faraieg, who was fcdlbw-

Jng a plow behind an old, flea bitten gray that only needed a half Invitation to stop at any time.5 The pilot put the megaphone to his mouth and shouted 'Whoal' and the old gray whoaed. 4 "The fanner heard the sound, and he thought, evidently, that a neighbor was there or thereabout, for he looked around to see whence the sound came. Then he tossed a clod at tha old horse and started him up. 'Whoal' said the pilot, and again the old horse stopped. Then the old Rube went to the river bank Mid looked down in the willows, but not a soul oould he see. He looked up and down and then at the steamboat and scratched bis bead In surprise. He couldn't afford to waste any time in looking for the ghost, for he went back to the plow and started -on with hia job.

Once more the joking pilot said' Whoa!' and again the horse stopped dead stilL You could see from the boat that the old fellftw was all mixed up, far jhe looked tip and down the river and #hen at the hillside behind'him to see if he could find the man who was working him and his old horse. He made up his mind that he would take it out of the old gray, and to fix for the ocoasion he went to the underbrush and cut a stick that was 10 feet long. He started the,horse with a vengeance. When the pilot hollered 'Whoal' again the old man gave the gray a lick that sounded clear to the boat. We could almost bear him say 'Thai-, gol darn youl I'll teach you to stop when you hear a spook hollerin at you.' "But the pilot kept up the good work and hollered 'Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!' and again and again the old man hit the gray. Finally it looked as if he had caught on, for he let the old horse stop while hs watched the boat. "Then the pilot thought he had had enough fun and he called out: 'Feed the old gray I Feed him I He's so hungry that he can't work. That's all the matter with him.' "Then old Rube got his voice arid we heard him say: 'You go to thunder with your old voice! It'd stop a railroad train anywheres!' Cincinnati Commercial' Tribune.

A

YOUNG MARRIED PEOPLE.

It I* a Sad Mistake For Them to Bests Lif» In a Boarding House. Edward W. Bok, editor Of The Ladies' Home Journal, always a stanch and uncompromising advocate of the home, assorts that a home, however humble, is a million times better place for young married couples to live than is the most luxurious hotel or best boarding house in the land. "It is always a sad thing," he saySj "when a young married couple begin lift in a boarding house or hotel sad because they start life practically outside of themselves. The furniture around them Is noi their own. The young wife may bring with her all the trifles she chooses. She may add a touch of her own here and another touch there. But the things in the room are not theirs, and sooner or l&tei she realizes it, "During the day the wife is alone. No duties oall her. Nothing is there in hex life to exercise her ingenuity or develop her womanly talents. She cannot prepare any little pleasure for her young husband, for things are prepared for her. When her husband leaves her for his office, she turns back into the room and wonderi what she can do during the day how she will employ herself, where she will go. There is nothing in hej room to appeal tc her to stay there. home duties confront her. So she goes out and shops perhaps for awhile runs around to her mother's calls upon some friends goes back to her room to practice a llttlo, if she is musical and has a piano, or, if she is fond of books, she reads. There is nothing in her life—two-thirds of herself lies dormant. Sho is glad when the time comes for her husband to come home giad to feel that she has some one to whom she can talk glad of company. And hel What can he do to express himself to hia young wife? Nothing around him is his. Everything is by lease his for a time, foi so much money. And after he is through paying for it he leaves it behind. The end is the same as the beginning. That is why boarding house or hotel life is so injurious to young married people. It, makes them practically homeless."

long Vacation.

M. D'Artout, who filled more than on« important post under the Frenoh govern ment, was.a man of easy going disposi tion, which was taken advantage of by those subordinate to him. He never punished and raroly reproved, and the result was a lax discipline, notwithstanding tha energy which he infused into his own department through the exercise of his own influence and ability.

In "La Vie Paris," Viliemot relates that when M. D'Artout was at the head oi the ministry of the interior there was a clerk in the bureau who could write a remarkable hand with as remarkable speed, and tho minister always kept him in his own offioes as private secretary.

One day the minister missed his secretary and inquired where he was. "He is not hero, today. His father dead." v?

D'Artout bowed and said nothing. A month afterward the minister again called up the chief and asked him the same question. "He is not here, monsieur," was the answer, "for his father is dead."

The minister bowed again in silence, but went away with a puzzled expression in his eyes. Three weeks later the same thing happened once more. Upon receiv ing the same answer, D'Artout spoke up rather sharply. "What!" said he. "Is he going to stay away from the office all the while his lather is dead?"

How "The Scarlet Letter" Wai Written. The old Saying, "Bvery olond has its silver lining, should often bring us comfort when the world appears 0 be frowning upon us. A rare exjnflple of this was shown by Hawthorne's wife, who proved herself to him a true "friend in need." One wintry day he had received notice that his services would no longer be required at his office. Weary and downcast, he returned to his humble home. His young wife stood waiting for him and noticed at once that something was wrong. He told her his troubles. Straightway the brave little woman with her owji hands kindled a bright fire fctahed pen. Ink and paper, which she set beside him then, with a beaming face, she touched the sad main on the shoulder and said, "Now .you can write your book!" Immediately the cloud cleared, and things presented themselves to Hawthorne under a changed aspect. He felt a freed maS the office appeared as a cage from which be had escaped. The Scarlet Letter' 'jras written and proved a marvelous suoecS, and fame rewarded Hawthorne and the brave little wife who had faced the cloud and found its silver lining."—"Tho Yalueof a Life," by C. & Burke.

The Famous Qnlncys.

The famous Quincys, father and son, of Massachusetts were so initfch aliko at one time, in spite of their difference in years, that it was hard to t«ll them apart. Once at a public dinner, where both rather and son wore present, ntoast was given to the father. Instantly the ydunger Quiney rose to his feet, and pointing to hi.- venerable father Mid. "My son will respond,

The diamond b, odiuiuoirgr the earliest gems known u» man It has nut been found In the ruins of Nincvoh in the Etruscan sepulcheis nor *u the tombs of the PheeniciAUs.

TP*

•TERRE HAUTE EXPRESS, TUESDAY MORNING. NOVEMBER 30.1897

JOYS OP THE BLIND.

THERE ARE MANY PLEASURES IN THEIR LIVES, SAYS ONE OF THEM.

TiMii mill EnJojrmdiit From Othw Senses. They Go to the Theater, the Opera and the Parka, and Seme of Them Travel.

Marvin Clark, the Blind Journalist.

A blind maa'i life is by no means without its joys. His days are not spent In pightlfiM sorrow. He has his pleasures, all the keener perhaps because "he Is deprived of the great one of looking at people and things. Marvin R. Clark, who is known among his friends as the blind journalist, believes that the joys far outweigh the sorrows in the lives of those born blind or deprived of sight. "A general opinion prevails among people who can see," he said, "that when a person becomes blind he becomes helpless. That idea is the greatest handioap a blind man has to contend against and his greatest task is to wear it away. Blind people are just as self reliant and just as brave as people who can see. "You aak me how the blind man amuses himself, what joy he finds in life. A blind man amuses himself just like one who can see—according to his tastes, provided he has the money. It is nine years since I became totally Wind and in all that time I have found my greatest source of recreation in my literary work. I have continued to write fiction and special stories for papers in and out of town. Since I returned from the Bermudas I've written two comedies and a novel of 130,000 words and In all of this work I've found the keenest pleasure. "Many blind men are very fond of the theater. I seldom go on account of my ill health, but when I do I enjoy it thoroughly. Of oourae I oan't BOO the beautiful scenery and costumes or watch the facial expressions of the players, but I got much pleasure from the play just the same, though I wouldn't if I went alone. I always go with a friend and obtain my enjoyment almost entirely through him, just as a person who can see partakes of the enjoyment of a companion. There is a bond of sympathy between two persons who are friends, and the pleasure felt by one communicates itself to the other. It is different with the opera, and I get a sense of enjoyment out of that, alT my own, which can never come from a play or any speaking part. A blind man usually possesses all of hia other senses, and they improve to a degree that compensates in a measure for the loss of sight. His sense of taste grows stronger, and he is able to enjoy his food more. The touch becomes finer, and he is better able to appreciate the texture of objects. The hearing is rendered more acute, and I have not the slightest doubt that people who are blind hear sweet sounds that are never heard by men who oan see. However, the other senses are never so strengthened as to offset the loss of sight. If I had it, I would willingly, eagerly give the wealth of all the world to recover my sight, and any other blind man will tell you the same thing. I can't see anything that is beautiful. A flower is given to me, and I am told that it is beautiful, but I cannot eee its beauties for myself. I can only touch n.T»rt smell it. Some one tells me that a magnificent building is going up. I can only ask what style of architecture it is, how many stories high, what material is being used, and so on, and thon picture in my mind what it looks like. I can't enjoy a beautiful bit of scenery, a vessel on the water, the facial expressions of those to whom I talk. I can only be told about these things and see them in imagination, which is more often wrong than right. "We blind people make a great many mistakes, especially concerning the personality of those we njeet. Of course we judge a man largely by his volee. For instance, if I meet a man with a full, deep voice, I immediately picture him to myself as being a tall, stout fellow, middle aged, with black hair, a full black beard and very well dressed. Nine times out of ten if I ask for a descriptien of him after he is gonosome one says, 'Oh, he's a little chap, with a little sandy mustache, about 25 years old and very shabbily dressed.' "There are three sources from which a blind man can derive almost as much pleasure as one who sees. They are walking, driving and traveling. None of us is too poor to walk and many blind men are brave enough to walk about the city Btreets alone. Others, who are totally blind, are too nervous to do this. The great majority of persons said to be blind are not totally blind. I am. "Nearly every blind man enjoys a long walk through the park in summer or along one of the avenues in winter. He feels the beauty and life and motion about him, and that is more than a great many who see these things do. The blind enjoy driving just as much as they do walking, and I am sure that the blind man who can afford to keep his own turnout or hire ono every day is much better in health and spirits. "It will be hard for you who see to believe that a blind man oan get any pleasure out of traveling in strange countries, I suppose. Well, he can. I spent eight months in Bermuda, and I never enjoyed a stay anywhere as I did that trip. It was far more beautiful to me than any place I ever visited before I lost my sight. The descriptions I had read of the place were not equal to nature in any way. My enjoyment was in the climate and in the peculiarities of the people. I knew that they were out of the usual by their conversation and by the descriptions that I heard. Most people think that the blind are inclined to draw themselves into their shells, to grow morose and cynical. I am a member of the Press club and used to go there a great deal onca. When Colonel Cookerill was president, he often said to me: 'Marvin, you are the happiest man I know,' and he wondered at it. One day he said to me, 'How do your thoughts tend? Were you nevor downhearted?' 'Yes, colonel,' I answered. 'No human being was ever so downhearted as I was during the five years I felt my sight going from me. It was like passing through* the dark valley Qf the shadow of death. When I lookad at things, I would say, "This may be my last look." I went about the city looking at^nrtaln bouses frnrt places. I looked at objects about my room, I looked at the people I loved, realizing that my sight was fading day by day and tried to burn certain pictures on my bnln. 1 was most miserable. On Thanksgiving morning, 1888, the last vestige of sight faded, and wken my mother came into my room I sai\ Mother, it has all gone." Then my haV in ess returned to

The agony was, ver.' "—New

York Sun.

STOMACH STUF&,

Ion* Common £ease

R«moi Ih

Shoald Not Be Greedy.

What special pleasure is there, after all, in overloading the stomach? It certainly Is not a sensible thing to do, and yet the so called greedy people often form this habit simply because tbey do not take the trouble to reason out the certain results. We see almast daily reports of death attributed to heart failure. Bid you ever stop to think what it is that the heart fails to do?

The heart is said kv be the uiost pcrfeot organ of the animal wonooay and one that never shirks its duty, It is "stomach «tuffing." :«:d not ''heart, inihiif.thatrauscs the trt.ubk- hi many ir„sianc *p The heart gow right »!uing srs

Uutv

through­

out. OUT \v ifh-'Hif oue rest, night jr h»y. v. si' tfceic UTmission^if :t single puliation for years or n:«!:v

At every lx*«t ».it:pals l-\:u ounces

blood through its structure. At 75 pulsations per minute, 9 pounds of blood ie sucked in and pumped but every hour, 640 pounds every day, 12,960 pounds every year, 4,780,400 pounds every 100 years, 473,040,000 pounds, and all performed without one moment's rest verily, a good record.

Now the heart has the very meanest neighbor that ever an organ had—namely, the stomach—especially if it be the stomach of a greedy person. This organ is a drunkard, a glutton, a trespasser and almost everything that Is bad. It ought to be walled in and compelled to keep on its own grounds.

The stomach lies directly under the lieart, with only the diaphragm between, and when it fills with gas it is like a small balloon and lifts up until it interferes directly with the heart's action. The stomach itself never generates gas, but when filled with undigested food fermentation takes place and gas is formed, and the interference depends upon the amount of gas In the stomach.

To overcome this obstruction the heart has to exert itself in proportion to the interference, more blood is sent to the brain, and the following symptoms are the result: A dizzy head, a flushed face, a loss of sight, spots and blurs before the eyes, flashes of light, zigzag lines or chains, often followed by the most severe headache. These syniptosas are usually relieved when the gas is expelled from the stomach.

Now when this upward pressure upon the heart becomes excessive, there are more dangerous symptoms. A larger quantity of blood is 6ent to the brain, and if blood clot in tho brain result the patient dies of apoplexy. When a sick person or an old one or one with weak digestion sleeps, digestion is nearly or quite suspended, but fermentation goes on in the overloaded stomach and gas is generated.

A man is found dead in bed, and the medical attendant pronounces it the result of heart failure, and such is the certificate of burial given. Now that man was out and partook of a lato supper ate roast beef, turkey, lobster, oysters, mince pie, plum pudding, ice cream, cake, on orange, nuts and raisins and drank three or four cups of coffee, or perhaps several glasses of beer or wine. He went home at midnight, retired, and died of heart failure before tt the next morning. What did the heart fall to do?

A more truthful verdict would have been: Death from a habit of greediness formed in youth, ending in an exaggerated case of stomach stuffing.—Philadephla Times.

-^LESSON FROM THE OYSTER.

Many a Pearl of Wisdom to Be Gleaned From His Life. The oyster is pre-eminently a creature of leisure, and he consequently has much time at his disposal for thinking and reflection, and, in the absence of proof to the contrary, we are obliged to accept the deduction that he employs that time profitably, though he may keep his wisdom to himself and employ it for his own uses. He certainly has reduced light housekeeping to a fine art. He lives right in the water hence the question of water supply and drainage is one that he never has to concern himself about.

He manages also that the water shall bring him his food consequently matters of commerce, of supply and demand, the prices of commodities and other questions which worry other members of the animal creation, whether they are quadrupeds or bipeds or whether they walk on the earth, fly through the air or swim in the water, do not concern him. As for his house, as soon as ho settles down, after a very brief period of wandering and sowing his wild oats, he builds it himself right out of the material brought to him by th§ accommodating water, and thereafter he lives a, life of ease.

Ho knows perfectly well that things will come his way. He doesn't even bother with having legs and eyes, for he has no need of transportation. He does not need to see in order that he may gather his food, and be finds no necessity for idly gaping about, and thus uselessly exciting his nervous organization. He sits down under his roof, if not under his own vine and fig tree, and enjoys a life of quiet and dignity. He has enemies, but he does nothing to stir them up, since he eschews all religious and political controversies, and he thus manages to retain the good will of all the denizens of the land and sea. There are many lessons indeed to be gleaned, from the life of the oyster that we might learn and follow with profit.— Pittsburg Dispatch. "'d'S

Something to Learn.

As Mr. Huff edge sat down after having elbowed his way baok from a between acts trip, ha happened to see some Japanese 6tudehts sitting farther in front. "A great many Japanese come over tc thlfe ootontiy to get civilized, don't they?" he remarked- "I suppose it takes them a good' while to get used to our ways." "I Suppose so," said Miss Cayenne. "And I don't think those young men have been hert very long. "Why?" "I haven't seen one of them climbing over the people between him and the aisle every time the curtain went down."— yKftghington Star.

Mousetraps.

There are various kinds of *&ouBerraps, Including those that require no setting and that take mice alive and those that require to be set and that kill the mice. In this last class are the familiar old fashioned wood mousetraps, some mude square and some round, having holes in the sides through which the mouse thrusts its head to get at the bait fixed on a hook within. Traps of this kind are called chokers. Many kinds of mousetraps are 6old by the gross or dozen. The wood chokers, varying in Bize, are sold at wholesale at so much a dozen holes. Takiag all the kinds together,' there are made in this country and sold here millions of mousetraps annually, and American mousetraps in large numbers are exported to many foreign countries.—New York Sun.

A Sfwmatnasred Compliment, "I consider it an insult," said Mlsi Passeigh.

"You

don't refer to that immense bunch

of rosea?" "I do. It's a birthday remembrance, *ad the o&ni on it says, May each of these beautiful flowers represent a year of your Ufo.' "—Washington Star. wl jA'' Hi. Olft to Bddle.

Little Willie—Papa, Is it nwre blessed to give ibw to rsosbra? Papa—That's what the Bible tells us, and the Bible must be right.

Little Willi®—Then I ought to get a credit mark for giving Eddie Warner the measles, oughtn't I?—Chicago News.

'it Couolation

MM

LoMliceM.

"There Is one idea that every spinster aecuretjy cberi^es." ."What is itT'' fi-v "That lots of men wiah they had married her instead at the girls they did many. !—Chicago Record.

Andrew Lang tells of an authoress hs knew who saw'a novel sort eI ghosts— namely, the characters in her novels. She oti00 saw the principal character of one of her novels glide through the door straight up to her. it was about the site of a large tloil

An Irishman v#as onoe asked why he wore his stocking inside out. "i^eoauao tfcerp is a hole at t&e other side," he replied.

NEGRO HOUSEWIVES.

THEIR THRIFT AND INGENUITY UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

Only Excellent Economists Conld 3£ake the little They Have Go So Ste—Fatteat and Indtutrlou—-Clean ted Tidy Xot withstanding Their fewrty.

The most notable economists In this country today are tho negro women down south, the field workers who keep house against odds, yet achieve creditable results. "I couldn't git hold of no jar nor nothln to put up peaches in dls year, butt I'ze got pretty near a bushel of out apple an peach dry an stow 'way In bags," a cabin housewife will tell you. "Them hams an sides up there?" sbo goes on. "All both of 'em is frost de Bhotee what I raise on homo viotuals an leavln's. Dey never turn out no lard worth countin, but de meat is sweet."

Another time 6he will show you her quilts, six or seven of them folded away neatly, ono apiece for each of the children, as she says. "When do you do your sewing?" you ask her. "Mostly in de night time, when lie chillen is out de way an de mens is lay down or gone huntin." "But you have no lamp?" "No, but I keeps a good turn of fat splinters an pine knots handy, an dey makes a good blaze to see by. Days when I does half task in de field I works 'bout de bouse in de afternoon, but dere's de washin to do an de patchin an scrubbin an one t'lng an anudder. Den, if I has new cloth, I makes breeches or frock, one. Dere's always sewin waitin." "How do you manage about tho cooking when you are 60 busy in the field?" she is asked. "I mostly makes de chillen a stirabout or some bread 'fore 1 start out in de mornin, an every night 'fore I lay down I slip some taters in de ashes to. done slow for dem. Den I gen'ally don't cook no more till I come out de field at sundown. When I git chanoe, I docs majte cake an sweetened bread if eggs is plenty.'{, "But you sell yotir eggs?" "Yea Dey mostly gees for sewin thread, sometimes for a little sugar an coffee or maybe kerosene. I always keeps a bottle of kerosene bandy, 'causo it ao good to drink for misery in de head or to rub with when your j'ints is painful. "I does make sharp money out of my butter, too, when do cow ain't gone drjv" she adds.

The average negro farmer who plants his little one horse or two horso acreage that he rents barely makes enough income to keep body and soul together. In the flush harvest season he earns the equivalent of 40 cents a day. His wife, according to her interpretation, has to "turn swift" in order to make things hold out. She buys as little as possible and makes use of such resources as are at hand. Even food for the cow has to be considered, as is evidenced by the "going dry." "If we could make out to gi'Sook a mash of cooked peas night an mornin, she would keep up her milk all de year," says Sook's mistress, "but we can't do dat nor rent no* good pastur' lan' neider, an in de winter de grass what's growin in spare lan' ain't much. You see we got de mule to feed too." Thus she tells ol her simple needs. The negro housewife's broom is made of broom straw gathered from the fields and bound securely with strips of homespun. The scrubbing brush, that plays an important part in the weekly cleaning up, is made of shucks from the oornhouse pegged into a piece pi board with a long handle to it. By cutting off the necks of the gourds that grow each year under the eaves large bowls arie made, to hold anything that needs be kept over In the wooden cupboard. For cooking conveniences there are only the crane in the open chimney place and the heavy lidded oven, skillet and big mouthed pots, which are lifted about, no matter how hot or how full they may be, by a bent poker or stout, knotted stick.

The mistress of the oabln hoes her halt acre task each day. She helps with every department of tie field work, froni getting the ground ready for the seed in early spring to the harvesting in autumn. Many of these women plow as well and have little side crops of rice or cotton. Nearly all have young children."

A good many negroes are shiftlcsH and irresponsible some are dirty, but a majority of the wives and mothers 011 the plantations are ambitious and make a brave effort to put the best foot foremost and keep things shipshape. They rival each other at raising turkeys and chickens, and will walk miles hunting up somo secretive guinea hen's nest or searching for a missing duckling that has strayed off from the brood. Tho sewing that they do is crude. Somo of the quilts that they are so proud of look grotesque enough because of inaccuracy iii tho cutting and carrying out of the pattern, but they are 0 monument to the patience and industry of the makers, when ono thinks how rough and coarse from hard labor aro the hands that wield the olumsy scissors, big needle and coarse ball thread with which they are made. The garments they make are cut out on the original scale, with little regard to fit, but the stitches hold firmly, and the forms, large and small, that wear the clothes are so well knit and lusty that the garments soon fall into shapo. The patching done by these women may bo classed as an art. Every possible economy is practiced in these homes. One set of smoothing irons often does tho ironing fori a whole neighborhood, and the starch that stiffens the go to meeting petticoats and the husband's shirt is mado out of rice water boiled down to the requisite thickness. *Every skimming of grease or bit of bone is s^yed for soap, and even the lye noeded for the soap is extracted from wood ashes.

On a Saturday afternoon, when one of these cabin homes is fresh scrubbed fur the next day, the wooden shelves and tables white as elbow grease can make them, even the brass hoops on tho water bucket scoured Into newness, and the pickaninnies spanking clean, it is a picture of homely simplicity, a glimpse of which would go far toward dispelling the idea that because a negro is poor he must be dirty.

The negroes on plantations remote from towns are primitive in their modo of life and remarkably thrifty. Thctr strong piety has something to do wlt& their cleanliness. They regard it as a sin to be dirty on the Sabbath.—Now York Sua.

ORETAMER AND SCHEMER. V*1

fTapoleon Itonght Ha C00M Win Sew Glory la Stexko. Mr. Cornelias Btevanson contributes an article entitled "An Imperial Pimm" te The Oe&bOiT- It deals with tfce tVtnoh Intervention In Mscdco. Mr. Stevenson saya

When the Mextoaa empire was planned, our olvil war bad been raging tot nearly two years. From the standpoint at tba French rulers, the moment tdemod auspicious for Franos to interfere in American affairs. The establishment of a #reat Latin empire, founded us0ar Freoch protection and developed la tfaa gftsratf of France, which must oeoessarlly derive the principal benefit at the stupendetM wealth which Mexico held ready Cb p&ur into the lap of French capitalists—of an empire which In the west might put a limit to the supremacy of tba Ueitpd S»t«, as well em counterbalance tin Beittsk riigremaey In the east, tha* ogpWag a formidable cheek to the encroachments rf the Angle-Saxon race in tie interest of teo Latin nations— such was Napoleon's plan, and I have baen told by one who was close to tin Imperial

family at that ttoe that the amparcr klzn•elf fondly regarded it as "toe conception of his reign."

Napoleon III labored under tihe disadvantage of reigning beneath the shadow of a great personality which, oonsciouely or nnconselonsly, ho ever sewrre to emulate. But however clever ho "may be, tho man who, anxious to appear or eves\ to 1* great, forces fr.to and creates i4?o*«rib!o situations that ho may cot a istvjlcg pars before the world is only a aohemor. Tin* is the key to tho character of Na*.o'«wn III and to his failures. Ho looked swuy and dreamed of universal achievement when at home, as hie very door, were tho threatening issues he should have manured. Tho story is told of him that oca evening, at the Tuileries. whan the imperial party were playing gams*, char.oe brought to the emperor the question, "What is your favorite occupationi" to which he answered, "To seek the solution of unsolvabls problems." It is also related that in his younger days a favorite axiom of his was, "Follow the ideas of your time, they carry you along struggle against !hem, they overcome you precede them, they support you." Truo enough, but only on oondition that you will net? mistake the shrill chorus of a few inter-, estcd courtiers and speculators for the voice of your time, nor imagine that you precede your generation because you stand alone. He dreamed of faraway glory and his flatterers told him bis dreams we?» prophetic.

A VALUABLE POSSESSION.

Good Manners Go Far to Slalce a Km Successful In Life. So many quotations have kept cropping up in regard to good manners that a partial list of them has bee* made. It is worthy of your attention.

Good manners are more serviceable than a passport, a bank account or a lineage. They make friends for us. They are more potent than eloquence or genius without them. "'hey spring from a kind heart and ara the dictates of good humor.

They are not something to be learned from fashion news and books of etiquette, and thc-y are not imported or borrowed.

The Due do Moray's definition of a polite man was, "One that listens to tilings he knows all about when they are told by a person that knows nothing about tbem."

Tho good mannored person does not tell us of our failings, does not lecture us. Hs does not wear his good manners merely because they are becoming or polite, but beoause he can no more exist without them thau without air.

They resemble the antique painted glaas of Albert Durer's day, in which the colors1 were not laid on, but stained through. 5 They are apart of a man's character.

There are those that seem to have a positive genius for good manners, as ethers have for conversation. They know how tO:(. sway others by them. People that are po-„, lite, in the true sense of the word, have an. Influence that Is not due to their position, their possessions, their learning or thoil* wit.

There are those who believe that good manners are only another name for good clothes, good food and good homes, with tho modern conveniences and luxuries that they are talkative and emphatic and showy, but observant people SOOH discover that this is far from the truth.

Good manners are something that no one can afford to do without, no matter how rich, how powerful or how intellectual he may be.

They acid to beauty. They detract from personal ugliness. They even cast a glamour over defects. They ameliorate tha round shoulders of this person and tho squint of tho other. Where they exist, imagination supplies deficiencies in every other attraction.

They are coutagious, it is claimed, Ilka tho measles, but they must be moro than Bkin deep to bo of any service.—Philadelphia Times. f-

OFFIC1AL RECORD BLUNDER,

The late of Hamilton's Dnel and Death Entered Erroneously. It is a curious fact that the only official record of the death of Alexander Hamilton on file in the bureau of vital statistics Is erroneous and gives the date of his death as Julv 11 and the date of his ?vel with Aaron Burr as July 9. All histories giv*the date of the duel as July 11 and tha date of Hamilton's death as July 18. Tba latter date is inscribed on Hamilton's monument in Trinity churchyard and on the church record.

The record perpetuating this blunder la in an old volume now in the custody of the registrar of vital statistics in the board, of health. This volume is one that waa handed down from the old city inspector's office, and until recently was supposed 4a be trustworthy, although not conaeaotive entries, for the years of 1800 and 1808 follow tho record of Hamilton's oeofch 1b 1804. All the cntrieB except that of Hamilton appear to have been written by t]j» same hand. His is written with much greater care and heads the list of fit's. It is "Alexander Hamilton, born In Santa Cruz, W. 1., died July 11 disease, oasualty buried Trinity church osfyetery, Thomas Collister, sexton." Undte tha he.'wl of "remarks" in the margin is vfttfcton: "Fell in a duel with Col. Aaron fiu*r, near Woehawk, N. Jersey, on the morning of the 9th of uly. Interred at the expense of the city of New York. "—New York Commercial.

Letters Sent Up Stairs In Flats. An ingenious letter lift is to ba fount* in some of the larger buildings in Geneva. Tho lift has a compartment for each of the stories. The deposit of a single letter makes an electric contact, which does not cease ringing until the letter is taken out. At the same time it opens tho faucet of a tank on the roof of the house, which causes water to flow into the cylinder forming the counterweight of the letter carrier until the weight is heavier than tho box, when the -box ascends and the flow of water ceases simultaneously. As tho box passes each story the correspondence intended for it—letters, papers and small packages—falls into boxes on the'f corridor of that floor. The ejection is performed by a small spring at the bottom of each compartment in the elevator, which causes the bottom of tha compartment to catch for a moment, and the it-lease throws out even a singls piece of paper thinner than a post card into the stationary box provided for its reception. When the box has passed the uppermost floor, tb«f cylinder filled with watar strlkos a bolt provided at the bottom, which allows the water to flow out and by its own weighs the box descends to its plnce on tho ground floor. Should by any mischance a single piece of paper have remained in the elevrtor upon striking the bottom it will at once go through the same scries of movements as before.—Invention.

Needs a Stronger Alan.

Mr. Piper—De Blank is so lazy bo hr-i to hire a volet to smoke for him. Mrs. f.—I shouldn't think he'd uc pay a man for doing that.

I

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Hit. smokes

Mr. Pip«r—But he you see.—IX-troit Free

-..v-'kH'J

Where do the swallows of England pj for the winter? Sane go to Rome, fco»u» to Sine ahd Macaco, seine to Algiers mnl seme to 8g$pt 4 naturalist who tied tuu of red silk to strallavs naught in Kngland identified o&» 2? tMfe same birdu in tho neighborhood of ttre wyfiunlds-

WltbiA tha ttust Stnyeats ISO new peerages laOi^tAgtelttfears been crecttetl, w^iiie 64 £sve bcoome rxninct. Nearly half the peerspand banorifets haive inherited or received thoir tittts vHthlfe Hie last ten