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S"n
CONUCORDIA
VOL. VIII. VIDALIA, LOUISIAN , SATURDAY, FE
The Leaky Bembes..
A ermer travellg with il lhid
Picked up a horseshoe la the led
And hlled it ls io ab rs deer,
That leok dlght down.muae him poor,
Sat every bLning hkoan to I is
u ameow han dmes lad his" wUh,
Dae mW upor po hahrm .
Dsee d ipel , ms growai b .
iit hea deelie b t mi o o r eg
* lsera.ht M tl g F
Mtildwe1 and smted an s oarl
Hisdgram refuted 1s ea4p Mhays
TIse mia.e died, or weas(t Wa;
In bshot, all moved the sesuked way.
Next spring a great dnouth balel the rod,
And roested every pea il pd;
So long .s eature eed emd;
Redundant Inae rn ed their brood
To starve or leek of Juldy lood;
The raves from barrel ides wet of I
As if ther had the hoalopeoogh,
And nothing of the ue tel ind
To bold together felt inelined;
In short it was no nee to try
While albthe land wee in at fry.
One mor, demorUlid with grief,
The farmer clamored 0er SaW;
And prayed right hard to tadersland
What witohoralt now paemoed his land;
Why house and farm in misery gIew
Since he naled up that "lamky" shoet
While thus dimayead o'er matter wroeg
An old man heanoed to trudge slo g,
Toawhom he told, with worwood tears,
Row his aaIhie were ina aears,.
And whet a desperate state of things
A picked-up borseshoe sometimes brings.
The strenger asked to see the eaoe,
The farmer brought it into view;
But when tbeold mn irsed hbis ead, o
He laughed outright, and qu;ohly rid:
" No ronder ekes epon you firown
You've nailel the horsebhoe up ide down!
Just turn it round, and soom you'l me
How you and fortune will agree."
The farmer tarned the bhorseshoe round,
And shower began to swell the grond;
The munshine laughed amog h.s grain,,
And heape on helps piled p the wain;
*e arn let Mllla hm ab eedae --
His cattle did as they were told;
His fruit trees needed sturdy props
To bold the gathering apple crops;
His tunip end potato ieldst
Antonished all men by their yields;
Folks never saw such ears at corn t
s in his smiling hills were born;
His barn was lull of burdting bins
His wife presented him with twines;
His neighbore marveled more and more
To see the increase in his strae.
And now the merry farmer msg t
-' There are two ways of doing things;
And when for good luck you would prey,
Nail up your horseshoe the rlght way."
--J. T. Fields, in Harper's X.Mapase.
'PHEBE'8 FIDDLE.
" I think I'll take that one," said Mrs. t
Marinus Marohell, pointing with the end
of her finger in one particular dirtotion.
It wgs quite a little life picture-the a
row of eager-eyed girl standing in the i
stuffy little reception roomof theorphan t
asylum at Bloomington, each clad in I
her dingy gray stff gown, with a green I
gingham bib-apron, and her hair cut s
close to the head-a style of coiffureI
which gave an undue predominence to
the ears, and would have made the di. e
vine Venues do Milo herself look like a
female pickpocket. Just behine them I
stood the matron, a fat old woman with I
crumpled hair, white cap, and three dism -
tinct layers of chin, and a hungry dog 1
peeping 'n at the half-open door, ocm
p!eted the tableau.
Deborah Dove, a stup py girl of thir
teen, with empurpled fngers and blunt
noee, sighed deeply; Sarah Jackson'e
freckled countenance fell. The others
looked solidly about them, indifferent as
to Mrs. Marobell's preference or ne
glect; and a littlelgray.eye lassie at the
end of the line, weo had been balancing
herself uneasily on one foot, like a crane,
started forward with a" half-stifled cry
of delight.
"Phebe Looketi" cried the matron.
"Phebe Locket, if that's her name,"
said Mrs. Maroheli, decidedly.
"Why, she's the smallest one of the
lot," said the matrno.
" She'll grow," said Mrs. Marohell.
" And the ugliest," added the matron.
And at her un~onsidered words, poor
little Phebe winced and held down her
hoed as if some rude had had struck
her.
"Handsome is that handeome does,"
returned Mdrs. Marehell, dldaotlOally,
i Mrs. Jenks. let the lady dlirectress
know that I have deoided."
As Phebe Locket rode away in the
open farm wagon, sittuing beidd Mlrs.
Marechell'e ample fligre, the farmer's
wife lookia down and emuht the clear
ejoes looking timidly up Into hers like
weds of gray water.
"Come," said Mrs. Marehell, bruequ
ly, "what are yt thinking habout?"
"Please, ma'am," said Phebe, "I wu
wonderiln why on earth yoo case me,
wh-t Caroline Purple whowas gamueh
retter, and Deborah Dove was a grea
aeltalleraad stronger."
"RuabP'" smid ~rs. Marehell, "I
obsesryo4>It eaueI T iiU year lwo.
T.'r little but you're wiry; yes l r't
as puy-as some of those slmplang
girls. et have an honest look 'ats
why I hosoe you."
*"Thank you, ma'am," sald hebe,
simply.
Anadshe eoiset sveat
pery of the~lsoeslagtds s ay
at last.
Mr. Marsuhbll a stot., goodhupbred
farmer, with a shining bald.lhesdl d a
gair of English .iro gray lMhkess,
welcomed the little girl with a kindly
pat on the head, and s admouitlon to
be sure and do her duty, sad it woold
always be dose by her."
And Charley Marshell, the only son,
and heir of the red brick farehouse,
with its sores of golden wheat and
emerald stretches of pasture land, nick
named her ",ties Midet" on the spot.
" Because you are msob stauated little
affair," said he.
Phebe Imaket had not been "bound
girl" at the Marahell house for more
than a few months when, one day, Mrs.
Marchell came into the great airy
"keepingroom" with a perturbed ex
pression on her o0-dIanae.
"I thought I heard a Addle some.
where," said she.
"Just what you did hear." said
Charley. "It's Phebe, in the garret."
"Phebe!" ejaculated Mrs. Marohell.
"And wheg on earth did she get a Ad
die?"
"Borrowed it from old Mr. Findley,"
said Charley, laughing. "'You never
saw a ereature so bewitohed after a Ad
die as she Is."
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Marchell,
sharply. "What business has a bound
girl with a fiddle, or with say sort of
musi.o for that matter?"
" It's no harm, wife-no herm," said
the farmer, indulgently.
"Bat it ia har," sald . Mar
shellM, 'aesi mle- a .ead . -
And Phebe Locket, seati Tbrk
fashion on the loor of the old garres,
with a tattered shawl wrapped around
her shoulderp, and the red level light of
the winter sunset weaving itself around
her short auburn curls, was interrupted
in her musical reveries by the abrupt
entrance of Mrs. Marchell.
"Give me that fddle," said Mrs.
Merchell.
"Ma'amf" said Phebe, dropping her
bow in amasement.
"It's a silly waste of time," said Mrs.
Marchell, " besides being sinful."
"But," pleaded Phebe, "I've done all
my work."
"No matter whether you have or
not," said Mrs. Marchell; "there's al
ways your patchwork to do, and 'Blair's
sermons, to read, besides the weekly
paper. Give me that fiddle, I say l"
Poor Phebe gave it up, trying hard
to choke down the tears and sobs.
Old More Findley, the village violin
ist, who odficated at dances, weddings
and merry-makings in general, and fill
ing up the interstices of his time with
the making and mending of shoes.
looked fairly astounded when Mrs,
Marohall bounced into his seven-by
nine shop and flung the musical Instru
ment on the work-bench.
"Eh" said old Moses, adjusting his
spectacles on the bridge of his nose.
"There's your old Addle." said Mrs.
Marchell; " and I wish after this you'd
be kind enough to keep it at home and
not go putting nonsense into my bound
g'rl's head I"
"But It isn't nonsense," samid old
Moses. "8he's got a capital idea of
music, Phebe has, and-"
" Nooam sel" said Mrs. Mashell.
"And a very decent voice, if only it
was cultivated."
"Pshawr' said Mrs. Marchell, and
she flounoed out of th e shop in a rage.
But if Mrs. Msrchell was the child's
temporal mistress, music was her
spiritual one. Phebe Looket went
quietly about her work in the years that
followed, but she could not forget the
divine strains which the well rosined
bow had drawn from the antiqnue violin,
in the red glow of the winter sunset,
that January afternoon in the garret.
Mrs. Marohell had done up her front
hair in papers, assumed her gray flannel
dressing gown, when chancing to look
out of the north kitchen window, she
saw, or thought she saw, the glimmer
of a light in the top window of the
barn.
"I can't have been mstake," said
Mrs. Marebell; "it isn't the time of the
year for flrefies, and will-o'-the.wisps
don't go dancing and twinkliag round
ou, barn. It's trampe-that what it
is."
",Fiddlestitksi" said Mr. Marchell,
sleepily from the exact center of a downy
feather pillow.
'There was two men asked for a
duink of milk at the buttery dox just
about dusk," added the lady. "and I
didn't mush like their looks at the
time."
" a al rlight, I dae say," syad
Mr. Marchell.
"'Well," oled the fa mires, aSet
iolpy, "if you don't go to loula It.
lad mialag har heshrad's l It
eercoat around her, and tki'ths
in ane band, she harnte Mbr h
She was rItb; the was a d l
lw eadle sralag t- the bam.
er, so bty is slekerlag
well-thumbed muele.
Shestarted up with a ry at theap.
parition of Marhell in the doour
way-an aveging specter, with a
s,4y overcoat and a dark lantera.
"Ungrateful airl!" tragietlly eied
out Mrs. Marhaed; "how dared tou
disobey me?" I
"I meant no harm," faltered PhIbe
"I hired the violin from the village
muso store, with the dollar shat Mr.
Marehell gave me 'for fnding his gold
spectacles, and Mrs. Musard gave me
the music; and I come out here of a
nlght so that the noise should not aes
turb you."
"Phebe, what a gooasyouare? Why
didn't you stick to your needle, and your
rolling pin, and your scrubbing brush,
as other girls do? How do you expeet
to find bread in the strings of a fiddle '
Phebe hung down her head, and said
nothing in reply.
"We may as well break the charm at
once." said Mrs. Marohell. "I'll take
you to the concert at Bloomington to
morrow night. They tell me there's to
be a girl violinist there as plays like
playing; and if that don't oure] yoof
your silly ambition, I don't know what
will."
Phebe Locket orimsoned to the very
roots of the hair.
"I can't gor'said she. "That is, not
with you. I promised Mrs. Musarsto
go to her home; but perhars she will
take me. The Muard are all going to
the concert."
" It.don't matter how you go," said
Mrs. Marchel', "nor with wham. so
Mss as yu ses reel ea ll~ses ad isal
the > eti 70. ri-t it-,
"But,"faltered Phebe, "hy houd't
I be a good player, sometime, too?"
" Why shouldn't the sky fall, and we
all catch larks?" oontemptuoll~ly retort.
ed Mrs. Marohell. "As for you the bee:
thing you can do is to go into the home
and go to bed as fast as possible."
And orestfallen Phebe obeyed.
Mrs. Marohell dressed hersJ in her
best black silk to go to the Bloomington
concert the next evening.
"For I suppose it will be somethine
very fine," said she. "Where's my eye
glasses, Charley? I must take them
along if I expect to see anything, for I
do declare I'm getting blinder every
day.'
"I expect, mother," Charley answered,
with a little laugh, "you'll see a lot of
things to surprise you."
The concert had proved an unusually
great attraction in the neighborhood,
and the hall was crowded when the
Marchell party arrived, so that Mrs.
Marchell was forced to be content with a
camp-stool at the very book of the room.
"Dear, dear I bow psovoking this is!''
said the old lady. "And Charles didn't
fnd my glasses after all. I shan't see
anything."
"But you can hear," said Charley.
"Hush-sh-shi" said his mother.
"Isn't that the violinist-a pretty light
complexioned girl, in white, with roses
n her hair? Now, I do hope Phebe
Locket is here to see this."
The violinist was greeted with shouts
of applause, which died away into si
lence as the delicious music rose upon
the air. floating upward like the halos
we see in ancient pictures.
It was a short capriccio. -sad when it
ended Mrs. Mauhell"was in tears.
"I never thought before that I cared
so mouh for music," said she to Charley.
'Bat such music as that! Do you
know, Charley, it seemed to me exactly
as if my little baby that died twenty
years ago was whispering in my ear.
Oh, if Phebe could only hear this!"
The female violinist was certainly the
feature of the night. And at the close
of the concert she was again and again
called betare the curtain to receive the
rapturous plandits of the Bloombagton
pubdo.
"Where's Phebe?" said Mrs. Mar
chell, standing on one of the benches to
look around her. "Has any one seen
Phebe here?"
"I have," sid Charley, dryly. "Shall
I take you to her?-here in the little
room adjoining the stage."
"Bt what is she doing there?" said
Mrs. Marhell, perplexedly.
" Couantng her bouquets, I suppose,"
Charley said, with the same odd little
laugh.
SAnd without further ceremony Mrs
Marcohell was ushered into the presenoe
of the female violinist herself, all in
white,with deep red roses glowingin her
hair, and cheeks aflame with happy trl.
umph.
'Phebe," ejacelated Mrs. Marchel),
fairly out of breath with astonishment,
*" this is never yon!"
Phebe £aw fr Mte. MahkdL a
"Yes, der, dear fiend."e
" It isL "
"Wyr da't ye, tell l" si
fam et. w I reus a 1 .
B"snens I was s- dd art
pase would b a f$ $ ."
"I sappn e ea n ilver asse
to the trmboen *oeft* stai
"TYou hall pestes e a te
hoeqsr' eid Mrs. Marehe L.
D'MdnatI tell you, msothr," raid trl- c
t' plans Oharley, " tan ha o'ud we
somuehlag to surprise ofet st yo'll 1
be Alllu moei~prid wbea"-
eOharsly, don'tl" ered qat Phebe,
than .
you need't," said Mrs. Marobell.,
o n from r to the other, " Ian
' She's mob a darling, mother." uadd
p yone man.
And Phebe threw both her arms
od th elder woman's neek, and
pered softly, "Mother."
The mere narrative of Garibaldi's life
tads like a medieval legnd or a tale ot
lerolo times. He is at once the Ulysses
d the Achilles of the Italian national I
e. Long before his name had bea If
iesrd in Eurore his exploits, both by I
and land, had made It a word of
war in the new world. Having been
ivolved n revolutionary intrigues he
lttedEuropein 186 tfor South Amea
I only to return after twelve years'
ile, the story of which, with ts stirring
ventures both of battle and. peaceful
terprise, s as romantic as any subse
quent portion of his wonderful career.
It 1848 Garibaldi returned to Europe,
altured, like so many other Itallan pa
trelts, by Plo Nono's accession. But
though he on found that his hopes in
that direlcln werp to be disappointed,
Garibaldi did notreturn in vain. His
share in the defense of Rome against the
troops of the French republlo under
General Oadlinot and his victory over
aos t sb ow his enateoTm
that they would not want a leader ready
to go all lengths when the time came.
The time did not come for another tap
years, and the Intervening perlbd was
one of sorrow and humiliation for Garl
baldi.
After the disautousltoman campaign.
ending with the occupation of Rome by
the French troops and the overthrow of
Mazsini's triumvirate, Garibaldl was
hunted from place to place; two of his
devoted friends were taken by the
Austrian troops and shot without any
form of trial; his heroic wife, Anita,
the companion of all his adventures and
perils, succumbed to the exposure and
privation of his flight, and the general
himself only escaped from his more is
o:soable fees to be arrested by Sardinlan
troops and carried to Genoa, where La
Marmors, who held the command, sl
owed him to retire to Tunis.
When Victor Emmanuel made his
peace with Austria, and the hopes of
Italy seemed extinguished for the mo
ment, Garibaldi once more crossed the
Atlantic and settled in New York as a
tallow chandler. He returned to Eu
rope in 1856, and in 1860 the war be
tween Franoe and Austria brought him
again into the field. Here we approach
the better known, or, at least, the better
remembered, parts of Garibaldi's event
ml career. All the world recollects the
exploits of the Chasseurs des Alpes,
whom Garibaldi organised for moun
tain warfare and led with consummate
daring along the sab-alpine ranges and
to the very summit of the Stelvio pas
before the sudden peace of Viilafranca
put an and for the moment to the rising
hopes of Italian patriots and statesmen,
Still more familiar is the story of the
campaign of the following year, which
was began in Sicily by Garibaldi sad a
few devoted followers, and ended
in a few months at Naples, when
the victorious patriot, who took no re
ward for himself and asked for none,
handed over the crown of the Two
Sicilias to Victor Emmanuel and retired
to his farm in Caprers.
This was the crowning point of Gari
baldi's eventful career. Bere end not
indeed, his efforts, but his trent achieve
meals, in the cause of his country's free
dom. The crowning of the edifioe was
reserved for other hands than his. and
the 'ask was to be accomplished by
other means than he knew how to
employ.-London Let'er.
At the Winter palace at St. Petesr,
burg there is a room full of dim s
pearls and other precious stte An
empres of Russia is allowd borrow
from this room, after gl a receipt for
what she takes, and the grand
duchesses are to borrew from
it also. The editor of London re
members once going into this room with
a French diplomatie lady. 8he beat a
haste retreat after one glance romad, lor
she felt that if she stayead her principles
would suonumb to her admirati, anad
thashe would trwy to steal same of the
- sad vima l-esets wa
ad ei4 d La Ue-asi dia wid
sn--WrM emolmtI fIM lgt M
in bil; tsesmanm.imimonte .
tanr color--Ba*ir pleaDose ris
and tigoeus; color i moe por by of
bred..
Tals-Tall aMein, tdlk a met atp
Sim-Accordlng to head.
..U I.eeks nwasrd. T'ese
Tme osM.aseile GaseNs aes Apple
treasay be trasplasted at my time
frol the emation ef growth or the fall
ginto open i spring, when the weather
is not cool or frusg. The usual time
is from the middle of October till the
ground frses. sad from early in April
until some weeks afterward. The ad
vantage of autumn planting is that the
sil becomes more perfectly etle
abott the ot befre the growth com
maeas. The disadvantage is that the
surme becomes crusted and is noi
broke up nad made mellow a it shdold
be lathe spring. Care houldi be taken
that the fall-set tree are not whipped
about Ip the winde, and on heavy rll
perfect drainao should be provided.
steed eansese simn oste L
Major Prees, the loag-time editor of
the Germantown tleeruet, say: As
the eason has arrived whea curing
applmin Ibeeore. we repablsh usof
ellcn of water, take oe and one-hal
pound of salt, e-half pound of sugar
aowhalf ounce of saltpeter and our-ball
oaes -of potash. Omit the potash ln
les you can get the pure article Dr
gls usually keap it.
In this ratio the pickle can be in
creased to any quauntity deired. Lt
these be boiled together until all the
dirt from the sugar rises to the top and
is skimmed of. Then throw it into a
tub to cool, and when cold, pour it over
your beef or pork. The meat must be
well-covered with pickle, and should
no be put down for at least two days
aftr killing, during which time it
-hould be slightly sprinkled with pow.
dred saltpeter, which removes all the
urfaoe-blood, etc., leavring the mat
tfresh Some omit biling the
pickle, and i well,
though the operation of boiling
as the pickle by thawing of the dirt
always to be found in salt and sagr.
It this recipe is strictly followed, it will
require only a single trial to prove its
superiority over the common way, or
most ways of ptting down meat, sad
will not sor be abeadoned for say
other. The meat i unsurpassed for
sweetneas, delipc and freshnea of
color.
l ans " aste.
APrrPL StL wD ,WaoLi.-Pare anad
core some afrm, tart apples arrange
them on the bottom of a porcelain ket
tie, wll the centers with sugar and
powdered spice, or grated lemon peel,
ard pour over them enough syrup to
cover them; to make the syrup, boll a
pintof water to a paound of eager, ad
tke then i oimeter fine sadbtes t then
smoothe; IIatm be ei thte
syrup until they look lear, them take
them up without breaking them, and
strain the syrup over them; cool them
before using.
ArnLe tnnaem.-Weigh three pounds
of apples and a balf-pound of sugart
peel and ore the apples, ut them in
I thin salice put them Ito a porcelatn
lined-kettle with the sugar, the grated
rind ad iue of one lemc sad a tea
spoonful of ground Saiger samer all
these nlgredlenat slowly until the apple
is tender enough to rub through a sieve
with a pottemasher; meantime scald
a quart of fresh aream, mix the apple
pulp with it, beat lt thoroughly, and use
Sit ejr warm or cold.
,/Arm.a Snow.-Peel, corea and slice
six large apples; stew them to a pulp
with saclent sugar to sweeten them;
take them from the ire and beat them
smooth; meantime beat the white of
sin es toa tifr both, gently mix them
I with two heaping tableepoonfula of
powmred meat and the apple pulp, ad
pile the mow thus made In a rough
bespea high dish; efew bitaofbright
colored jelly, or a row ofeandied orage
or learn dtog, makesethedlh lok vry
pretty.
a The megs whe atbotheUnited
Stiateedaie3,USU
ST ,,e -w he T tl ,v wesa
bthen shiqw.
Wheia theepot ie oot duer 1af4-8
A w n whroees teeh to e
aher seals n ak b ia tkelgsima.
Th e ivatim s vies an* g e bn *
sma ao se iea us.-hs am.
SBeabse feon the eses o Well, eads,
whot have yes ktlledf" "1isu my
A Boston ass has Javeated a Mew
ead * eemorolegp," ad
who ern proomees it.-Btes ltoid.
"Der dr, mid an amateer mast,
ust from the ou r, wri to the
secretary of an agrl hicltel mso I,
" put me down s your list d ade tor
caU."
We are progreassng mas anole towetd
relneeant. The wheelbarrow is now
called the uoylacle. BR It is est as
hard to re with a big trunk on it as it
was undethe old name.- iaes e Me.
When a boy walks with a girl as
though he were afraid some would
e him the grl is hise slter. I he
walks so class to hb as to nearly ewe
some one ee .
"Arer y any relation to imy seatr'
He blusheid ad steameel until asth
young lady, taking pity hi e, eelve
the matter by sayint "r o, but he'd
The gase and vapors of ma~nuootur
ing towns. especially where chesoeel
works abosed, produce variatia om l
the color of moths, even in the fall
grown ldot, but not in their destre
tiveneams.
The Boston Pst cites the ease of a
Veraont man who recently killed two
birds with one stone, and did not feel
very.proud of it either. He shied the
stone at a hen and hit thebirds la a cage
behind a plate-glass window.
A Norristown ma who Is so neart
righted that he cannot recognise his
friends sanses the street, always dodgs
around a oarner when one of his oredi
tos Is a square off and cominng toward
bhim. It muet be instinot.-NxriiSom
erald.
A transoedental presoher took for Lis
eed my lambs." As he came
out of church a plain old farmer said to
him: "Tht was a very god tet; but
yo plaed the bhay so high in the rao
that the Iabs coaldn't reach it, nor the
old sheep either."
The editor oInthe New Orleans Pie
ase having been out unauccessfully
with a dog and a double-barreled shot
gun longs for the good old das when a
man could kill two birds with oue
Some fellow has discovered that theus
are 33,55 ways of spelling sclssors. If
he had been correcting manuscript for
a newspaper, he would have discovered
that there are about s999 ways of
spelling every word in the English lea
ANw avertied that l r ame
dollar he would send directions how to
ouren turn-up noee. A young lady wbho
forwarded a dollar received thelereo
tiones net day. She was advised to
employ a blaeksmith to strike be a
heav blow on the end of the no" with
a sledgehammer until a caoe rias e
feted. A very striking remedy, but she
didn't follow the directions.
Tum, with kind words Fairtae ejole bie
Mriend,
SDear Dik, on me, thcu mjyest assured dei
pead;
I know the fotene is but Very sOat,
But ever will lsee my friend In want."
Dick, oo n jeil, be leved his triend wold
htee him;
He kp his wratd-la wanthe amr would asee
him.
"What do ya oharg for a eharve
here?" akn a dsty, trave!-utined ma.,
enterig a barbIer shop. "It Jnt dc
peads on ma'a oceapatlio," w the
reply; "wrbt do you do?" "I'm a
book gent." "Then it will cI jon
twenty.ve eran." "Why, yo• eharged
the un who wet out oealy flue eeats."
"I khnow it; bt bhe's a llgbteigsed
aegl ed a al,1dJ of photar- pi~ s
tiskbeamd he allow. me to bce. my
seneca. his etrs.-Uamnr eeses.ilb s-
