Newspaper Page Text
,v.W-r f' •. HIT' ?5r A STORYyOF TW^Igg^EARS AGO. Mr. B. was a gj^ ^^pant in Balti more. 6no mori?*W*p{»pr was passing over the vessels at the wharf, he stepped on the deck of one, at the stern of which he saw a negro, whose dejected countenance gave sure indication of dis tress. He accosted him, with: "Hey! my man, what is the matter?" The'negro lifted up his eyes and, look ing at Mr. B., replied: "Ah massa Ie in great trouble." "What about?" "Kase I'sefotched up here to be sold.' "What for? What have you been do-' ing? Have you been stealing? or did you runaway? or what?" "No, no massa, none o' dat. Its be kase I don't mind de audes." "What kind ot orders?" "Well, massa stranger, I will tell you. Massa Willum werry strict man,- and a werry nice man, too, and eberybody on the place got to mind him, and I brake frew de rule, but 1 didn't Col. C. replied that he did. What do you ask for him?" I expect to get $700." 1 How old do you reckon him to beS" "Somewhere about thirty." "Is he healthy?" "Very he never had any sickness in his life, except one or two spells of the ague." Is he hearty?" Yes, sir he will eat as much as any man ought and it will do him as much good." "Is he a good hand?" "Yes, sir he is the best hand on my place. He is steady, honest and indus trious. He has been my foreman for the last ten years, and a more trusty negro I never knew." "Why do you wish to sell him?" "Because he disobeys my orders. As I said, he is my foreman and, that I might want bim, I built his hut within a hundred yards of my own now—for .* •'_&!. /W ,fI4 :tend to brake de rule doe 1 forgot myself, and I got too high." "It is for getting drunk, then, is it?" "Oh, no, sah, not dat nother." "Then tell me what you are to be sold for?" "For praying, sah 1" "For praying! That's a strange tale. Will not your master permit you to pray?" "Ob, yes, sah, he left me pray easy but I hollers too loud." "And why do you halloo in your prayers?" "Kase the spirit comes on me and I gets happy 'fore I knows it den I knows notting 'bout massa's rule." "And do you suppose your master will really sell you for that*" "Oh, yes no help fur me now. All de men in de world couldn't help me now— kase when issa Willum says one ting he no do anoder." "What is your name?" "M'ises.1' "What is your master's name?" "Massa's name is Col. William ." "Where does he live?" "Down on the Easin Shoah." "Is he a good master and treats you well?" "Oh, yes no better man ic de wuld." "Stand up and let me-look at you." And Moses stood up and presented a robust firame and as Mr. B. stripped up his sleeve, his arm gave evidence of un usual muscular stiengtft. "Where is your master?" "Yandtr he is, jes' comin to de warf." As Mr. B. started for the shore he heard Moses give a heavy sigh, followed by a dee| groan. Moses was not at all pleased with tbe present phase of affairs. He was strongly impressed with the idea buy him, and it was this that made him so unwilling to communicate to Mr. B. the desired iuformation. Mr. B. reached the wharf just as Col. 0. did. He intro duced himself and said: "I understand that you w^nt to sell that negro man yonder, on board the schooner." \10use, soon after he got religion, they, asked me it they might be married, tod I presume they were." "What will you take for her and the »-ohildr^n?" "If you want them for your own use, u- will take $700 but I shall not sell Mioses nor them to go out of the State." "I wish them all for my own use and will give you the $1,400." Mr. B* and Col. C. then went to B.'s store, drew up the writings and closed the sale, after which they returned to the vessel and Mr. B. approached the Moses made a low bow, and every muscle in his face worked with emotion, as he replied: "Is you, massa? Where is I gwine, massa? Is I gwine to Georgia?" "No," said Mr. B., "I am a( merchant here in this city. Yonder is my store, and I want you to attend on the store, and Iv have purchased your wife and children, too, that you may not be sepa rated." "Bress God for dat and massa, kin I go to meetm' sometimes?" "Yes, Moses, you can go to church three times on Sabbath and every night in the week, and you can pray as often as you choose and as loud as you choose and as long as you choose: and every time you pray, whether it be at home or in the church,*1 want you to pray for me, my wife and all my children for if you area good man your prayers will do us GO harm, and we need them very much and if you wish to, you may pray for every body of my name in the State. It will not injure them." When Mr. B. was dealing out these privileges to Moses, the negro's eyes danced in their sockets and his full heart laughed outright for gladness, exposing two rows of as even, clean ivories as any African can boast and his heart's response was, "Bress God, bress God all de time, and bress you, too, massa Moses neber tinks 'bout he gwine to hab all dis com modationers dis make me tink 'bout Joseph in de Egypt." And after Moses had poured a few blessings upon Col. C. and bidden him a warm adieu, and re quested him to give his love and farewell to his mistress, the children and all the servants, he followed Mr. B. to the store, to enter upon the functious of his new office. The return of the schooner brought to Moses his wife and children. Early the next spring as Mr. B. was one day standing at the store door, he saw a man leap upon the wharf from the deck of a vessel, and walk hurriedly toward the store. He soon recognized him as Col. C. They exchanged saluta tions, and to the Colonel's inquiry after Moses, Mr. B. replied that he was up stairs measuring grain, and invited him to walk up and see him. Soon Mr. B's attention was arrested by a very confused noise above. He listened and beared an unusual shuffling of feet, some one sob bing violently and some one talking very huriiedly and when he reflected upon Col. C.'s movements and the peculiar ex pression of his countenance, he became alarmed and went up to see what was transpiring. When he reached the head of the stairs he was startled at seeing Moses in the middle of the floor down opon one knee, with his arm around Colonel's waist, and talking most rapidly, while the Colonel stood weeping audibly. So soon as the Colonel could sufficiently control bis feel ings, he told Mr. B. that he had never been able to free himself from the influ ence of Moses' prayers, and that during the past year he and his wife and children had been converted to God. Moses responded: and I have never rung the bell at any time in the night or morning that his horn did not answer in five minutes after. But two years ago he got religion, and com menced what he terms family prayer— that is, praying in his hut every night and morning, and, when he began his prayer, it was ion possible to tell when he would stop, espec'ally if (as he termed it) he got happy. Then he would sing, and pray and halloo for an hour or two to gether, that you might hear him neirly a mile off. And he would pray for me and my wife and my children, and our whole family connections to the third generation, and sometimes, when we would have visitors, Moses' prayers would interrupt the conversation, and destroy the enjoyment of the whole company. Tbe women would cry and the .children would cry. and it would get me almost frantic, and even after I had retired it would sometimes be almost daylight be fore I coii Id go to sleep, for it appeared to me that I could hear Moses pray for three houis after he had finished. I bore it as long as I could, and then forbid hid praying any more—and Moses promised obedience, but he soon trangressed, and my rule is never to whip, but, whenever anegro proves incorrigible, I sell him. This keeps him in better subjection, and is less trouble than whipping. And I pardoned Moses twice tor disobedience in praying so loud, but the third time I knew I must sell him, or every negro on the place would soon be perfectly regard less of all my orders." "You spoke of Moses' hut. I suppose from that he has a family?" "Yes he has a woman and .three children, or wife, I suppose] he calls her 1-Bress fcct negro, who sat with his eyes fixed upon the deck, wrapped in meditation of the most awful forebodings, and said: "Well Moses, I have bought you." God, Massa C., doe I way up hea, I neber forgit you in my prayer 1 olles put de ole massa side de new one. Bress God, dis make Moses tink about Joseph in de Egypt again." The Colonel then stated to Mr. B. that his object in coming to Baltimore was to DUV Moses and his family back again. But Mr. assured him that was out of the question, for he could not part with bim and he intended to manumit Moses and his wife at forty and his children at thirty yeais of age. Moses was not far wrong in his refer ence to Joseph. For when Joseph was told into Egypt, God overruled it to his good, and he obtained blessings to his good, and he obtained blessings that were far beyond bis expectations so with Moses, he eventually proved the in strument, in God's hands, of saving the man's soul who sold him. Old Moses is stiil living, and at pres ent occupies a comfortable bouse of His own and is doing well for both worlds. jV. T. Graphic. Singular Superstitions. Virginia, Ner., Chronicle. Sailors are generally considered the most superstitious men of any calling, and indeed it would be strange if in the mys terious ways of the deep, with its wonder ful phenomena, somethitg was not found to base superstition upon. It is the same way with miners. There are wonderful things to be studied in the vast laborato ry where Nature has stored her treasures. The men who toil in the caverns of the ground and tread the endless windings of the drifts have their presentiments of coming'calamity, and at times feel the touch of death in the very air. A Chronicle reporter was talking with an old miner a few days ago, who im plicitly believed that no death, ever took place in the mines without a warning of some kind. "You see," said he, "death never comes cf a sudden upon the men in the mines. You reporters* write up accidents, and tell how something gave way or fell quick and killed somebody. Now, this ain't so. There's always some warning. When I see my lantern begin to burn low down anld blue, know that there. is danger ahead. If it keeps on for a few days, and then begins to waver and• flicker, I'll watch it close to sea where it points. Now, you may set mo up for a fool, but Is "forty, fat, and fair." SKSgppj^Sfcfc^ what I'm tellin' is gospel truth. Wfra the flame leans over, as if its bting work ed by a blow-pipe, and points to a man, death has marked him. Some years ago when Bill Hendricks was killed in the Savage, the flames of my lantern pointed right to him tor over an hour, and when he moved the flames would turn just as if Bill was a loadstone and the flames was a mariner's needle. I knew he was gone, and told him to be careful about the blast. Well, he got thrcught that all right and got on the cage. As we went up the candle kept acting strangely, and at times the flame would stretch out long and thin toward Bill. At length it gave a sudden flicker, and Bill reeled to one side and was caught in the timbers. I heard his dread ful cry as he disappeared down the shaft, and while he was bounding from si|s to side, dashing out his brains and scatter ing his flesh down to the bottom, my light went out. "I never lit that lantern again. It hangs up in my cabin now, and it always will. There's more in a candle flame than people think. I'd ra'her see a cocked re volver pointed at me than a candle flame a revolver sometimes misses, but a candle flame is sure to kill when it starts toward a man. I must start for my shift now. Don't give my name to anybody. Tnere are some who would laugh at me." The man here picked up bis bucket and walked away. There are plenty of miners on the Comstock who have just such superstitions. Some nail up horse shoes over the entrance of adrift "for luck." Others belfeve that good and bad luck come in streaks just as quartz and porphyry. For three years past there had been no accident in the North Consoli dated Virginia until a few days ago, when Champion had his thigh crushed. The miners said at once that a "bad streak" had been str ck, and more acci dents mivht be expected. Yesterday two more men were injured by falling thirty feet into the sump. This was caused by the breaking of a two-inch plank that seemed able to bear a dozen men. The Old School-Koom. My school-desk! it is many a year since in this little room I lingered o'er my tiresome task, And longed for noon to come Or watched the lengthening shadows Creep along the dusty floor, And tried to catch one golden gleam Of su :shine through the door. Here is the place I cut my name— I fondly hoped 'twould last! Another's hand has now effaced The record of the past. But on the time worn window-sill The very words remain In which I tried to paint my love To charming "Mary ane." Methinks I see the fairy now, With curls ef golden hue, A mo ith all dimpling into smiles, And eyes of sol test blue, I have a treasured url I stole Of the same golden hair Alas for woman! Mary now My schoolmates! ye are scattered far, And some are "gone before," Ob, wouid I were a happy child, Beside that desk once more! Where is the man that would not live His childhood o'er again— iYho has not memories in his heart Of some sweet "Marv Jane!" —Journal •/Education. EM. BY ERTHER 8E1VLE KENNETH. The Chetwynds* considered their fam ily quite perfect and complete when the youngest arrived, and so she was not particularly welcome. A girl, and quite plain, too. The twin-SODS were very handsome, the twin daughters very pretty. Em* was looked upon at first as a very undesirable addition to the family. Later, she was found to be useful finally she became quite indispensable. Having never been taught to consider herself, she grew up to consider every body eise, and this made her a very, con venient member of the household. It was her especial work to attend her papa, nurse her invalid mamma, cook Jack's pet dishes, serve as amanuensis to Tom, do Grace's hair, trim Garcia's hats, and serve as housekeeper to the entire family—this long before she was sixteen. At this time her ither died, and the household was plunged into comparative poverty. Her mother had hysterics daily a month after tbe funeral. Jack and Tom no longer gave the family the support of their countenances, but married quietly and took their brides—two sisters—West, The remainder of the household re moved from their city home to an old farmhouse deep in the country, where Grace could nr-.ver find anew way to do her hair up, and Garcia sulked because her mourning was so unbecoming. Here Em was not only housekeeper and nurse, but literally maid-of-all-work. No more uncongenial home could pos sibly have been allotted to this family. They knew nothing whatever about the managmentof a farm, which was not strauge. They had an aversion to their bucolic neighbors the domessic conven iences of tbe house were most primitive, its outside aspect rude and not even pic turesque. But it was all that was loft of the Chet wynd property, and little Em had come as picneer, and smooth the way—as far as possible—for the rest. They came and settled down to their discontent and repining. Stern necessity obliged Grace and Garcia to make some effort for their daily comfort but it was very little. tJpon Em came the heat and burden of the day. This was looked upon as a matter-of course. Did not Em know ~ow to cook and wash dishes? Grace had never cooked a meal and washed a dish in her life. Fm could make bread, trade with the F," J»-A S I I RT :t' butcher, and walked three miles to the post-office twice a week. Garcia declared that small things made her sick. So Em made fires, cooked meals, did the family washing and ironing, nursed her mother and waited on her sisters. The girls had each a lover. It was a little strange, thougfi Grace and Garcia declared that Em had drab hair, Em had nevertheless, a most dovoted lover—John Melvin by name—a young doctor, and as yet too poor to marry. Em's sister could not reproach her with this, for yotlng Boroen—Grace's lover— and Lieutenant Egbert—Gaicia's Jfoanee —were neither of them rich enough to marry penniless wives. To do them jus tice, they did not, however, desert the girls when they became poor. "We are just ruined for life," said Grace, when they first came to Strawber ry Farm—why thus titled I. cannot say, for there wasn't a strawberry on it— '•just ruined! How can I ever be mar ried in style, now?" "For that, matter I don't seo how we can be married at all," responded Garcia. Lieutenant Egbert's pay barely sup ports himself, and Borden don't want to bring a wife on his father. Tisn't likely!" "Don't scold! Oh, my head—my head!" moaned poor Mrs. Chetwynd. "All the time Em was silent, though her troubles were equally important— why not, she was only Em. "There's no hope of ever getting out of this," reiteiated Garcia, in a lower tone. "My dears," faintly essayed their moth er, "you forgot your Aunt Bethia." "Oh, she will "leave her money to an institution for providing nondescript dogs with silver collars and patent ven tilated dog kennels," cried Grace, who was the witty one of the family "I don't know why you should be so scornful of your aunt, my dear girls. She is eighty years old, now, and has always treated you civilly, though not seeking your society. She is feeble, and prefers seclusion and her pets to more exacting society. I, myself, have no doubt that she will remember you both—all"—re membering Em—"in her will. Now be comforted with that idea, and don't fret any more to-day. It quite wears me out." "The summer went by. Em's hands grew hard, and her young body so weary that she often could not sleep .at night for the aching of her limbs but she infused into the family what little comfort and content existed in it, and no one com plained of her lot but John Melvin. The three young men usually came out on the train every Saturday night, walk ed from the station, and spent Sunday at Strawberry Farm. Melvin saw Em grow ing thin and pale, and he very well un derstood the reason. "lt'3 too bad—a burning shame. They'll kill yqu among them, Em. Why can't Grace take care of your mother, and Garcie help do the housework and sew ing?" "Grace can't be broken of her rest at night. Mamma always take nourishment in the night, and it would be too hard to get up. Garcie does help a little with the housework, but she don't know how to cook, and don't like, to sew it makes her side ache." "UmphI 1 don't suppose your side ever aches, E n? Your aie made of cast iron, aren't you? You look like it. See here! who weeded that onion-bed?" "I did." "I knew it. Easy, isn't it?" "No it's rather hard—that is, to work all the afternoon, when one's a little tired to start with. But our neighbor, Farmer Stebbini9, advised us to work the garden. The vegetables help along with the living in the winter. We got it planted, and I take care of it." "That's enough. I won't stand it, Em! £'m going to manage some way to take you away out of this." "Oh, oh!" cried Garcia, dancing into the open doorway. "Aunt Bethia's dead, and she's provided torus all in her will.", "Garcia!" cried Em, starting up and turning pale, "Garcia, don't speak so." Well, I'm delighted, and there's no use pretending anything else. Come in and hear the letter read!" So they all went into the next room. Thf letter had just arrived trom Pennsyl vania, where Aunt Bethia had lived for many years, though it was not her native place. Her will had been left in care of her lawyer, who, upon her death, which had been uncomplimented by visits at her re quest, had written to her deceased broth er's family informing them of the dow ries. The singularity wa3, that while they were named, they were not respect ively presented. "We are to take our choice!" cried Garcia. "Stop!" said Mrs. Chetwynd, leaning upon her pillows and reading the letter with a flushed face, while Em regarded her anxiously. It is recommended that the eldest daughter take the unimproved Pennsylvania land. That's you, Grace.'* "1 won't have it," cried Grace. "I am going to have the Gothic cottage on the Hudson!" "Recommended," went on Mrs. Chet wynd, reading "that the next take the Hudson River estate." "Grace has thatM'ragoing to have the Eke raMe-farm and new house out West. I'd to go West. Jack and Tom are do ing first-rate—making a fortune. Lieu tenant Egbert shall leave the army and turn farmer—he was brought up on a farm-—and I'll keep house in the West ern style, and you shall ail come and partake Of my hospitality once a year!" cried Garcia,"generously. "But the Western estate is recommend ed to Em," hesitated Mrs. Chetwynd. "And those Old marshy Pennsylvania lands left to me!" cried Garcia, angrily. "That is just as you and Em can agree," interposed Mrs. Chetwynd. ^®iOk 'Get 4ti •ydfewWr*v.t?f«r* 1 is /•. iV it certainly was a home, and would en able the owner to marry nicely John Melvin, too, preferred to go West for practice. Em stooa silent and pale. "If Em wants it, she muse have it, I suppose," said Mrs. Chetwynd. "Yes!" cried Garcia, "and I lave noth- ingl Be doomed +o stay and die in this hole! Take it,-Em. Of course you will. Em had involuntarily looked up at Ji -hn Melvin. He felt the delicacy of in terfering, bat his momentary ^aze seemed to bid her hold her rights. But at Gar cia's stormy words she started, and her patient eyes dilated with pain as she looked at her sister. "No, no, Garcia it is harder for you to stay here than for me. You shall have the new house and be married. John and I can wait awhile longer. She looked up at him cheerfully, but he turned white with bitter disappoint ment. As for Garcia, she had not even the grace to be giateful to her sister. She only exclaimed, pettishly: "Wait? I could wait as well as you there was anything to wait lor. I am not an old maid yet, if you are five years the youngest, Em!" "Yes that is the way they took all her sacrifices. For Garcia, of course, took tbe beautiful, highly cultivated Western home, and Em was left with the marshes.' Grace and Garcia were married Neither of them offered to assume the care of their invalid mother, who would certainly be an invalid all her days. Ttiey considered that Em's work, with out a doubt. Well, the life at Strawbery Farm was a little easier after they were gone, certain ly and often, while finding no better opening, John Melvin and Em came to think that it might do for a. home for both, though there was already three doc tors in the neighborhood. At last they were married. "I never was lucky, and there's no use in our waiting until we are both old and gray for our ship to come in, John," said Em. "Let us be marritd, and take what comfort we can at Strawberry Farm. Perhaps one of the gouty old doctors, who neglect everybody about here to at tend to their own ailments, may die some day,fand you will find a good practice in this place after all. So they made tne best of a bad matter. John Melvin fell to work and cultivated the stubble-fields until they blossomed as a rose. Em's rose-vines grew around the windows, and her pinks and mig nonette perfumed all the airland the old place came to be both profitable and pret ty at last. At length, one day when John had been to the post-office, he came back wi.h a bit of news. "Real estate has risen, Em. Your Pennsylvania property is worth some thiug now." '•How much?" "Two or three million dollars." "What?" "The land is full of oil. And here is a letter making you a magnificent offer for it." It was true. Em's ship was in at last. 147 "Don't get into a passion, Garcia." They all looked^at Em. She, rather than the others, seemwi quite suited to be the mistress ot a Western farmhouse and The Cultivation ol Sorghum. Baral New Yorker. The continued high prce of sugar coupled with the fact that the United States import $750,000,000 worth annual lv, gives importance to any effort which may, in part of whole, tend to supply this deficiency. One of the means of. in creasing the supply of syrup, if not of sugar, is the cultivation of the sorghum plant, sorghum sacchar:um, now exten sively introduced all through the central Western States. Two species of this cane have been introduced, the true sorghum from China, and another from Africa, called impbee but this is of less vaiue for cultivation. Sorghum was first introduced into Frace in 1851 and into tbe United States in 1858, since which time its use has been extended quite rapidly machinery tor grinding it has been provided, and process of cultivation and evaporation has become well understood. Surgbum grows on any ground suitable for corn, but well repays high fertility. The plant resemoles Indian corn before its seed clusters come out, and grows to a height of from eight to eighteen feet. The cul tivation is the same as for corn the stalks are cut just before frost, the leaves stripped off for fodder, and the stalks pressed. Well ripened stalks yield half their weight In juice, and from five to ten gal lons of juicc are required for one gallon of syrup. Tbe yield of syrup averages from 150 to 175 gallons per acre, though in exceptional cases, the yield is much larger. The product'is chiefly in the syr'por a glucose used as a substitute for sugar in candies, wines, and for simi lar purposes. The product varies much with the cultivation and care in manu facture. The syrup carefully made from ripe stalks has a clear, bright, amber col or, and is preferable to comm jn moles lasses. The total amount of sorghum moiasses produced in the United States in 18(50, was 6,749,123 gallons, and in 1870, 1,050,089, since which time the product has probably further increased in the same proportion. Some growers recommend cutting off two or three feet of the top before the seeds are fully ripe, which gives a fuller ripeness to the stalk, and the part cut off makes better fodder. This fodder is of about three fourths the value of the same weight of hay. The cane may be crushed between horizontal rollers as with sugar cane, but where only small fields are raised, an upright mill, run by horse power, is usually employed. The total cost of an outfit should not-exceed #200. The national game is still spreading. Even in some of our churches they have 'f* their regular bass bawl every Sunday. &«fk I Mr VJlUHl'* "S* .** VSt:*--' v.