Newspaper Page Text
THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE: WASHINGTON, D. C, NOVEMBER 12, 1881
THE ROUND OF LIFE.
Two children down by the shining strand,
With eyes as bine as the summer sea,
While the sinking sun fills all the land
With the glow of a golden mystery;
Laughing aloud at the sea-mew's cry,
Gazing with joy on its snowy breast,
Till the first star looks from the evening sky
And the amber bars stretch over the west.
A soft green dell by the breezy shore,
A sailor lad and a maiden fair;
Hand clasped in hand, while the tale of yore
Is borne again on the listening air.
For love is young, though love be old,
And love alone the heart can fill,
And the dear old tale that has been told
In the days gone by is spoken still.
A trim-built home on a sheltered bay;
A wife looking out on the glistening sea ;
A prayer for the loved one far away,
And prattling imps 'neath the old roof-tree.
A lifted latch and a radiant face
By the open door in the falling night ;
A welcome home and a warm embrace
From the love of his youth and his children bright.
An aged man in an old arm chair;
A golden light from the western sky;
His wife by his side, with her silvered hair.
And the open Book of God close by.
Sweet on the bay the gloaming falls,
And bright is the glow of the evening star ;
But dearer to them are the jasper walls
And the golden streets of the Laud afar.
An old churchyard on the green hillside,
Two lying still in their peaceful rest ;
The fishermen's boats going out with the tide
In the fiery glow of the amber west.
Children's laughter and old men's sighs,
The night that follows the morning clear,
A rainbow bridging our darkened skies,
Are the round of our lives from year to year.
GEORGE JONES'S DUEL,
The morning was fair as had been the preced
ing night. The sun, rising as the moon -went
down, lit the world from the same cloudless sky.
The early breath of morn mingled with the
breezes from the sea, and there was that sweet
buoyancy in the air so welcome in the dawn of a
summer day. All was calm and beautiful.
The duel was to take place at six. Jones, who
rose at an early hour, felt nature's garb of beauty
almost a mockery. He was in a sullen, obstinate
mood, disinclined to see good in anything. Why,
he asked himself, should the day smile to see him
die ? And, failing an answer to that question, he
dashed his boots upon the floor, and sought for a
clean shirt to fight in.
It was nearly half-past five when Mr. Lyne
came in to see if he was ready. That gentleman's
unruffled countenance and perfect ease was a fresh
aggravation, and Jones felt inclined to tell him
that it was the duty of a second to feel in exactly
the same state of mind as his principal.
"I could not see you last night I was in bed
before you came in, but, as we have no weapons,
I have arranged with Calonbert that they shall
provide the swords."
" Let 'em. What do I care ? I never handled a
sword in all my life ! But what does that matter,
so long as they are satisfied ? "
Mr. Liie shrugged. his shoulders.
"You had the choice of weapons. You chose
"Yes, for your sake, not mine. If it had been
pistols it would have been ten to one I should
have shot you instead of that murdering de Sle
cal. A mitrailleuse was what we wanted, so that
it could do for us all in a bunch."
Mr. Lyne laughed. His experience in these
affairs was necessarily limited; he supposed it
was quite the proper thing for a gentleman in
Mr. Jones's position to fly into a passion. So he
waited patiently while his friend finished his
toilet raving at everything, from tooth-brushes
to boot-jacks, from de Slecal to his own folly.
Finding the looking-glass reflected his fiery
countenance he struck it with the hair brush and
cracked it down the centre. Shortly after that
they started for the scene of action.
It was on the left of the town, beyond the
Etablissement, among the hills. No particular
spot had been selected, but it had been arranged
to meet outside the town, and then proceed to
gether till a spot was found. They found their
antagonist waiting their arrival ; three de Sle
cal, his second General Calonbert, and a doctor.
On their meeting, everybody raised his hat and
bowed to everybody all formal and correct.
De Slecal seemed, if possible, stiffer than ever.
as though he could not bend his back to save his
life. General Calonbert was a fire-eater of a dif
ferent type. He had won fame in the Franco-
Prussian war, and, if report spoke truly, had done i
wonders in leading on his men from the rear.
1 le appeared to treat the whole thing as a splen
did joke, and this view was shared by his friend,
the doctor, a stout, jolly, red-faced gentleman,
who clapped Jones on the back, assuring him
that this would be the first duel which had been
fought since he had been in the town. Where
upon Jones stopped short, and :isked if he meant
to insinuate that there had been no idiots there
before he came.
u I think," remarked Calonbert, as they reached
a part where the ground sloped to a little dale,
tolerably level, hidden from the surrounding
country by the higher lands, "that, subject to
Monsieur Lyne's approval, this will suit our pur
pose." Mr. Lyne agreed. His cue was to agree to any
thing within bounds, he having as much idea of
how a duel ought to be conducted as he had of
Sighting one himself. He only knew that he had
to place his man in front of the other man, put a
sword in his hand, and tell him to fight like
blazes. After which, he opined, his duty would
be to look on. and see who stuck the other.
" We will place them," observed Calonbert
Avhile the doctor rubbed his hands and grinned
"""sideways to the sun ; that will give each his fair
share of light."
Perceiving that Monsieur de Slecal took oft' his
coat and waistcoat and turned up his shirt sleeves,
Lyne suggested that Jones should do something
of the kind. But Jones told him that he would
see him shot, and that he should fight as he saw
proper. On Calonbert insinuating that the object
of this partial disrobement was not only to give
free action to the limbs, but also to show that no
unfair defense was concealed beneath, Jones tore
off his coat and waistcoat, and would have torn
off his shirt also if Lyne had not stopped him.
" I call you to witness," exclaimed Jones, when
the sword was in his hand and all was ready for
the fray, "that if I kill de Slecal it will not be
my fault, because if it had been a question for my
consideration you wouldn't have caught me fight
ing in a hurry, and if he kills me it will be the
clearest case of murder since Cain killed Abel."
Calonbert looked indignant, the doctor aghast,
de Slecal frigid. Even Lyne felt that this was
not quite as it should be, but he was so utterly
at sea that if they had taken to blackening each
other's eyes there would have been no objection
on his part. But Calonbert knew his business
" I would state that the remark of Monsieur
Shoones is improper; his affairs are in the hands
of Monsieur Lyne. H Monsieur Shoones refuses
satisfaction (waving his arm) there is all the
country for him to run away."
"Come on! come on !" cried Jones, waving his
weapon so near the General's nose that that gal
lant officer sprang at least three feet backward ;
if de Slecal wants to fight, or anybody else, you
will find George Jones is not the one to balk his
This, it appeared, was equally irregular. Mr.
Jones had no more right to issue indiscriminate
challenges to mortal combat than he had to
attack the party all round. Lyne tried to im
press upon him, as well as he understood it him
self, that everything must be arranged by the
seconds, and that gentlemen kill each other with
courtesy and good breeding. At last the prin
cipals were got into position, and Calonbert gave
the signal to commence.
Jones's attitude was a study. He stood broad
side, not sideways, to the enemy, holding his
sword over his shoulder somewhat in the fashion
the woodman his hatchet when he chops down
trees. De Slecal, an old duelist, skilled in every
trick of fence, looked astonished. His attitude
was as it should be, only there was no sword to
cross his own. But by no law of dueling can
you compel your antagonist to fence as you like
and not as he likes, especially when that antago
nist is as ignorant as in the present case ; so Jones
followed the bent of his own sweet fancy.
It was the old story told over again. The
skilled boxer is beaten by a man who never put
on gloves; the trained swordsman is nonplussed
by a novice. So with M. de Slecal and George
Jones. This one's ignorance made useless the
other's science. Jones cut and hacked and
slashed in every direction, rushing round and
round de Slecal, making him whirl round like
a teetotum. How it happened in the confusion
he could hardly tell. They saw de Slecal's sword
snap, saw Jones strike him somewhere, saw him
throw up his arms and fall down on his back.
" Is he dead ? " asked Lyne, suddenly remem
bering that if he were it would be awkward for
seconds as well as principals.
" He is not dead," said the doctor, examining
the prostrate de Slecal, "but Monsieur Shoones
had better return to England."
The answer was suggestive,
as one in a dream, his sword, i
in his hand, staring at the littl
fallen foe. Mr. Lyne turned-l
bestir himself and prepare for
"He is not dead ? " he asked, as though he had
not heard the question and the answer.
"Xo, he is not dead, but" with a shrug of the
shoulders "it's on the cards."
Mechanically Mr. Jones dropped his sword,
put on his waistcoat, coat, and hat, suffered Lyne
to put his arm through his, and lead him off the
"Supposing he's dead," groaned Jones, as they
hastened toward the town.
" Let us suppose nothing so unpleasant. The
best thing yon can do is to pack your trunks, and
cross by next boat to the other shore. I shall go
probably to Paris. I had intended remaining
another week, but it's not worth risking. If he
does die the scarcer we make ourselves the better
for our convenience."
Jones made no answer. He had prepared for a
tragedy, but a tragedy in another direction. This
took him aback. The stain of blood was upon his
hands, not upon another's. This was so com
pletely a surprise that, as yet, he was not able to
realize what it would mean to him if the worst
ensued. He was only aware of one thing, that
the sooner Boulogne and he parted the better it
When they arrived at the boarding-house his
friend hurried him up-stairs, leaving him with
the brief reminder that the boat left at midday
to his own reflections. Instinctively he locked
the door, and sat down upon his bed to think.
By degre&s consciousness returned, and he saw
" If he dies if he dies, I murdered him. That's
a comfortable thing to know. And what becomes
of Agnes and all my dreams? What shall I seem
to her with his blood upon my hands? What to
myself? What to all the world? Oh, Joues!
boarders were then at breakfast. The girl, sur
prised by his appearance, his manner, and his
request, showed her astonishment by her looks.
"What are you staring at?" shouted Jones.
"Are you going to do what I tell you, or shall I
save you the trouble ? "
Thinking, possibly, that the English gentle
man was touched in the head, the servant re
tired, and Mr. Jones had another interval of
loneliness and impatience. Why didn't they
bring up that bill ? What was that woman up
to? Was this the way a boarder was to be
treated? Who was going to take down that
portmanteau ? And, in a confusion of thought,
Mr. Jones stamped up and down his room as
though every one was to blame but himself.
When Madame "Rontiton did appear she ex
plained to him, politely enough, that his agree
ment was not by the day but by the week, and
his time was not yet- up- What did that matter
to him ? He was willing to pay for the time
that the servant
Then he rush,
though it was no'
for him. Not ( t
the other boaro .
At the foot he 'k, '
of her he stood
possessed him ?
"What is tin ; ..,'
are not going t
vhen he had seen
lown, he did pay,
3g from his manner
a wrong in declaring
;ed down the stairs,
ilock. No breakfast
ot hungry, but face
: than he could do.
. shire. At the sight
. in the terror which
1 away entirely from
MANNERS AND SERVICE.
Many of the small annoyances that spoil
tempers and make life disagreeable might be
avoided by calling things by their right names.
For instance, a great amount of bad manners and
iusolence passes current in all classes of society
as independence, personal pride, or social supe
riority. It is difficult to define real independ
ence of character; to tell just what the combina
tion of self-respect, good judgment, and mental
strength is which makes it ; but it is easy enough
to tell what is not. When a cook boils the mut
ton she was told to roast she is disobedient, not
independent. When a writer revenges his per- j
sonal slights in a newspaper or gratifies his dis
like of his neighbor by false imputation of
motives, he plays the part of a coward and has J Moreover, their notions of "what 'oes together'
EATING AND DRINKING.' :
Doubtless most American bon-vivants, looking
over the recently-published bill of fare of the Czar
were ready to thank heaven that they were "not
born, as thousands are," to eat Russian food.
The old tradition that Russians devour candles
as English children eat sticks of candy, and drink
train-oil instead of Burgundy, has died out. But
the queer stuff which is prepared for so high and
mighty a personage as the Emperor of all the
Russias would turn the stomach of an Anglo
Saxon. It may be admitted without danger of
disturbance to international friendship that the
Russians are gluttons, orrather let nssay heavy
feeders. They eat fast and they eat a great deal.
Nor can it be denied that their feeding is toss
hat is wrong ?
And Miss (
arm. Her pn
hand upon his
and her touch
'' tTU, Htlii
Jones! what a fool you are!"
He buried his face in his hands, trembling as
with the palsy. Another thought came to him.
He started up, flinging his hands from him, his
countenance white as death.
" My God ! Will they hang me ? "
Hang him? Would they? It was a question
to which his imperfect knowledge of the law en
abled him to give no answer. But the thought
of such a possibility first froze the blood in his
veins, then sent it coursing through them with
increasing velocity. A fit of terror came on him.
He went to his portmanteau, threw it open and
flung in his possessions belter skelter, anyhow,
caring neither how he put them in nor for the
acted on him as a charm to awake him from a
dream. He stared at her, bewildered. Not only
was he flying from his punishment, but from his
love as well. He gave a cry of anguish, and
shrank from her.
"Agnes, do not touch me! My God, what
have I done?"
What had he done? It was a question she
asked as well as he. All she knew wTas that she
loved him ; that he .seemed to her in trouble ;
that it was for her to sympathize. She leant for
ward, laid her hand upon his arm, and whispered
almost in his ear, " George, tell me. What is
it?" Do not be afraid! I am here and and
you have my love. What has happened ? Tell
me, George perhaps I can help you ; if I can
not, you know I at least can comfort."
"Comfort! yon comfort me! Do you know
that I "
He did not finish. Some one coming down
the stairs from behind laid his hand upon his
shoulder and stopped him. It was Lyne. He
was starting for the station, en route for Paris.
Seeing them together, he suspected that their
conversation might be of topics in which he was
interested, and did not hesitate to interfere.
"You are what?" with his easy laugh. "Yes,
Miss Cheshire, Mr. Jones and I arg both depart-
uc ii-1- - -ek? oi k .. -di n.- a ' ay-
May I V that 1 ita-y Ik. allows! to look i'ur
WRrd to u - "- 'JHin M, Cheshire
upon if-v . j'f My "7n count' v --"
i. .. jujiic was u i." rve oi nis own
country history does not say, for he stopped, as
Mr. Jones had done before him, but for a very
different reason. The hall door was opened and
three people entered General Calonbert, the
doctor, and Monsieur de Slecal Monsieur de
Slecal, perhaps a little pale, but upright as ever,
and walking as though nothing inconvenient had
happened to him. Mr. Lyne stared, and Mr.
Jones stared; it was as though some one had
risen from the dead. Seeing their amazement,
the doctor put his hand to his side and laughed.
Even the General smiled: only de Slecal remain
ed as grim as ever. It was like a scene from a
"May 1 inquire," said Mr. Ljrne, when he had
regained the power of speech, "what, we may
understand from this?"
" This yon may understand," replied the doctor,
"what you see. Our cher Monsieur is not hurt
as we were afraid. No doubt he what you call
it tripped, Monsieur Shoones, he cut the skin,
but it was the fall, not the wound, hurt Mon
sieur." And the doctor waived his hand and laughed
again. The end was just as much a joke to him
as was the beginning. Far more of a ioke to
Jones. Miss Cheshire stared from one to the
other with a total lack of comprehension. What
was it about? The boarders had crowded out
into the passage, and Madame Boutiton peeped
from the landing. It was as good as a rare show,
and more mysterious.
The elfect of the surprise joyful surprise Ave
need hardly say upon Jones was singular. He
no courage in him. When a passenger stretches
his legs across a horse-car or sits sideways with
his feet in his neighbors wajT, and looks like a
thunder-cloud at any one who stumbles over
him, he is simply a nuisance and intensely dis
agreeable. The false nolion that work for an employer is
incompatible with independence and service in
compatible with pride have made immeasurable
mischief in the world. It is evident that the
old-fashioned doctrines of humility and self
sacrifice are of little account among men except
ing as pleasant theories to be preached from the
pulpit and moralized upon in conference meetings.
"In honor preferring one another," "ministering
instead of being ministered -auto," are not the
ordinary rules of life. Yet everybody is bound
to some kind of service ; everybody is dependent
upon his fellows ; the veriest recluse must have
food, clothes, and shelter; and if he can make
these himself he is still dependent upon the
courtesy of his neighbor to let him alone. It is
impossible to be wholly independent, and the
attempt might as well be abandoned. But it is
possible to be reasonable; that is within the
reach of every one. Sinecures and perquisites.
are sweet to the faithless and lazy1 of both sexes
and all classes, from the politicians and the
hangers-on of parties all the way along the line
to ignorant cooks and over-dress waiters they
are all alike undeserving the name of servant,
public or private, and they should be called, as
they are, shirks and sponges.
Here one is inclined to pause and ask at what
point in the social scale does the word servant
become objectionable? A public servant is
proud of the title ; and when a man calls him
self a servant of the people he assumes a title
that is finer to the common ear than that of a
servant of God. To be a servant of the church
is the ambition of brilliant and learned men ; to
serve at the altar means something better than to
officiate there. The measure of professional and
scientific reputation is the service done. The
expression of the most graceful courtesy is " Com
mand me how can I serve you?" The phrase
of formal respect is "your obedient servant."
And yet, unaccountably, the very service that
friends do for each other, that the members of a
,i c I. i- r n if ' - .nil.;:-- t"- -v
- ,ir u 'nou . . .s..t . rI i. .ousuj. t h.gi.s- ci.il.
in a well-ordered repast are sometimes very queer.
A Russian gentleman, long time a resident in the
United States, superciliously used to say that he
hated publie dinners; it was possible that at these
feasts one might see men drinking champagne
with their fish. JN evert heless, the Grand Duke
Alexis, when he was in this country, drank cham
pagne with his fish. But then he wore a colored
cravat to the opera. He was also very young.
All this, however, is a digression. What the
Czar eats would probably prove the truth of the
old adage that that which is one man's meat is
another man's poison. How would our club men
and Delmonico's curled darlings fare if, invited
to dine with the Emperor of Ru.u. thej- should
be asked to whet their appetites on "znkuska."
instead of the customary raw oyster or Little
Neck clam? The Czar's banquet begins with the
terrible zukuska, by way of bonne louche. This
dish is composed of caviar, herring, smoked sal
mon, sardines, smoked goose, sausages, cheese,
bread, butter, and raw beets steeped in brandy.
Isn't that- a pretty dish to set before the king?
Even though it be served on golden plates and is
eaten (or supposed to be eaten) before going into
r the banqueting-room, a civilized stomach would
certainly revolt against such a horrible mess as
this. But worse remains behind, or rather awaits
the happy guest who sits at the table of the Czar.
If this grand monarch happens to have ordered
his favorite soup, the "shtshi," to do honor to his
American visitor, let us say, there will appear a
potage of mutton boiled with beef, onions, garlic,
sweet herbs, beets, and spices, the meat being cut
in small cubes or junks. In Russia this is con
sidered a light soup.
But a still lighter soup, served cold, is said to be
a " mush " of various things. This is the famous
"okroska," a mixture of stewed apples, pears,
plums, oaten grits, small pieces of meat, herring,
and cucumbers. The Jenkins of the imperial pal
ace, when he had reached this stage of the descrip
tion, was taken suddenly ill, and was compelled
to bring his catalogue to a close by remarking
that a full account of the luxury of the imperial
table would take him too far. What he meant
by "too far" we leave to the imaginatfon of the
reader. And yet the Czar of all the Russias, one
of the most tremendous potentates upon the
-.its tb - ii. .- An r- V
t i"V til .. i
urt-s that e
a personal diaonor, when perfornifd for ages
T!, i:&u- .,..,,-.. roA : ...;v, .!. c. t
a-uc uwuwwi wimiuk vuiuo i uku uwusiY.iuiii - -v.a, xi.. j .- a. v.m
, i . ' ut-Ha.iww it -tusBJitii, ouu. ,- par ririjwri?;
--nHiaxT!r. -, -
tht s.'re tiring. The frij:fa?ml
condition in which
emerge. Only one
they would be likely to
His packing was a process which occupied lit
tle time. When it was concluded he was hot,
and the perspiration stood on his face. He rec
ognized this to be a condition in which it would
not be advisable to meet the public eye, so he sat
down upon the bed again to cool. He looked at
his watch it was nine o'clock, and Lyne had said
the boat started at twelve. Unable to control his
patience, he got up and rang the bell.
He bade the servant who answered it see that
his portmanteau was taken at once down to the
quay, and to ask her mistress for his bill. The
recognized first that he was free from guilt, and
then that he was free to love. And, when he
recognized that latter fact he threw out his arms
in his impulsive fashjfa. and drew Miss Chesh
ire an astonished victim toward him, kissing
her on the eyes, nose, lips, and anywhere.
That was hard upon Miss Cheshire, but good
fun for the boarders, who grinned or blushed,
were horrified or indignant, as the case might be.
Jones did not care either way, and perhaps, hav
ing been given due time for consideration, Miss
Cheshire did not care much either.
As for ourselves, in Jones's arms we Avill leave
Miss Cheshire, and Jones as well. Madame Bou
titon still carries on her boarding-house, Mr.
Jones is still alive, and Mrs. Jones. There is a
Master Jones, called Jeffrey James, after his god
father, Jeffrey James Lyne, at present residing in
New York City. Possibly some day, when he
has reached years of discretion, the parental
Jones will tell the filial Jones the story of that
duel upon the Boulogne Sand Hills, how it came
about, and how it ended. London Graphic.
Le President t tiid and so are : -jnslatot.
i'-ioabltf ' 'i. "oo-al-i. M' - rep?i''
and doctors and scientists. The fact is that heads
are so full of nonsense about these things that it is
hard to get at the sound reason which would set
them right. Everybody for the exceptions are
so few that it is safe to say everybody must
have relations with other human beings, his
equals, his inferiors, and his superiors; if he
lives he must do something, and what he does
must serve or harm himself and other people.
To be absolutely independent and free from
service, we repeat, is granted to no one, and even
the choice of service and of felloAV-workers is
very much limited. To talk of freedom is in
great part sheer boasting. We are born in har
ness, and the best- we can do is to keep the har
ness from chafing, and to make it a help.
Having tried to find out what they can do and
what they want others to do for them, let people
give the faithfulness they require, and let us
stop calling insolence spirit, rudeness independ
ence, noisy self-assertion manliness, conceit,
pride, and boorishness dignity. Give credit for
good work whether it is eulogy or pudding, and
confess that success is doing well that which one
undertakes. Duties as well as rights are to be
considered : and it can do no harm to use as
common every-day sense just a little of that hu
mility, just a trifle of that confession of weak
ness and blundering, which is made so uncondi
tionally and on so large a scale on Sundays.
There would be smoother days and less careworn
faces in return for it. All this has nothing to do
with social equality or an equal division of
property ; both are as impossible as individual
independence is. But decent, manners ought to
make all intercourse agreeable, and decent man
ners will never prevail while bad ones are bap
tized in all classes by false and misleading names.
Boston A dverlisrr.
is -r -Uiissitti he at :!'
The only lien on a farm of which a Norfolk
(Va.) man died seized, and which he left to his
two sons, was a claim of $3. The heirs wanted
a division, so the court ordered a sale of the farm.
It brought $900, and was placed in the hands of
commissioners for settlement. It took six years
to close matters, when the commissioners had
absorbed the entire proceeds by expenses.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Let the world .lide, let the world go ;
A fig for care, and a lip: for woo ;
If I can't pay, why I can owe,
And death makes equal the high and low.
An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie
abroad for the Commonwealth. Sir Henry Wot ton.
Treason doth never prosper what's the reason ?
"Why, if it prosper, none can call it treason.
Sir John Harrington.
Who are a little wise the best fools be. Dr.
Moderation is the silken string running through
the pearl chain of all virtues. Bishop Hall.
Art may err, but Nature cannot miss. Dryden.
Those who in quarrels interpose
Must often wipe u bloody nose. John Guy.
The law is a sort of hocus-pocus science, that
smiles in your face while it picks your pocket:
and the glorious uncertainty of it is of more use
to the profession than the justice of it. Charles
Dispatch is the soul of business. Earl of
Where law ends tyranny begins. William Pitt,
Earl of Chatham.
Making brick's wihont straw is easy enough,
compared with making money when you have
none to start with.
original barbarism of man survives in his choice
of food. Doubtless King Kalakana, in the privacy
of his royal closet, furtively devours a slice of raw
missionary by way of solace for the indigestible
cooked stuff which a slavish regard for the con
ventionalities of life compels him to eat. Never
theless, civilized men will pity the Czar, who, in
addition to the daily terrors of assassination, is
fed with incongruous and non-assimilative hodge
podge. Perhaps, however, the variations in man's gus
tatory judgment are due to heredity, not to edu
cation. It may require a few centuries to extin
guish in the imperial Cossacks those fierce and
crude appetites which they have inherited from
barbaric forefathers. The Latin race feeds on
garlic and onions as it fed on those pungent roots
when their luxurious ancestors mingled sea-water
with their wine, and smacked their lips over the
revolting mixture. What are called national
dishes are usuallv unsavorv to those who :ire not
to that manner born. When Lord Ashbnrton
was in this country he was invited to dine at
Xahant, with a party of Boston nabobs, a fish
chowder being one of the crowning features of
the repast. It is said that his lordship, being
pressed to give a perfectly candid opinion of this
preparation, replied: " I have eaten many na
tional dishes, in many lands, but never anything
so bad as this." A Swedish nobleman of high
degree, treated to a private banquet by a New
York friend, who was anxious to do him honor,,
put a morsel of terrapin into his mouth, and thenr
overcome with terror, rejected it with the single
exclamation, "Waugh!" A Cheyenne Indian
given a bit of salt codfish by a hospitable Yan
kee in Kansas, spat it out with energy, scoured
his tongue with a corner of his blanket, and
cried, indignantly: "You too much foolee meP
All of which proves that unreasoning hered
itary prejudice guides the taste of the world in
matters of choice for the palate. Probably no
education would make chowder endurable to a
man who had reached maturity before he exper
imented with it. Terrapin, the pride of Mary
land, is worse than caviar to the general run of
European gourmets. And salt food is like apples
of Sodom to a North American Indian. Tin self
sufficient Parisian or New York diner-out should
hesitate before he .condemns as uneatable every
thing that has not received the sanction of the
great cooks of modern times who are followers oi
Soyer and Francatelli. 1 it had been the hard
fate of some son of New England to have hceiv
bora in the Russian purple, he would have grown
up with a rooted fondness for "shtshi." Bntr
being nurtured in the shadow of Bunker Hill
monument, he delights in baked pork and beans
and accounts codfish balls as necessary to human
happiness. There is no universal standard of
taste. The human race is united only in living
to eat and drink. JVeir York Times.
'Smith," said Brown, "there's a fortune in that
mine." "I know," said Smith, "Fve put my for
tune in it.
He who can wait long enough will win.